#like. I'm not going to come for anyone I just think that's absolutely unsupported. just bc he's rude to strangers???

[llycaons]

there's this quote from colin firth where he says the darcy is just terribly shy and he's not the only one who tries to downplay or soften darcy's dickishness which actually annoys me a lot bc he may be a private person and slightly socially uncomfortable with strangers but the fucking book is called PRIDE and prejudice he did legitimately have unfair judgements and classist assumptions and internal biases to confront and reassess which he openly admits to in the final few chapters and though which his development is EXTREMELY significant to the romance. like I get wanting a character you like to be more sympathetic but what's the fucking point of conflict if nobody needs to grow or change as a person. where is the satisfaction! elizabeth changed him as a person she had such a massive impact on him and you're just going to ignore that and pretend it was just like, social anxiety?????

[rimunagenius]

I’m Not Talking ‘Bout Boys I’m Talking ‘Bout Them.

ఌ pairing: Naomi Mcpherson x AFAB!reader

ఌ Warnings: RPF!! homophobia!! , slight smut, slight angst?, fluff, fluff, and some more fluff, realization about the preferred sexual preference (if that’s even a warning)

ఌ Word Count: 3.5k words (major whoopsie…no it’s not)

ఌ okay so as you may not already know, this fic is based off the song ‘girls’ from girl in red. it’s basically the prompt of the story. another thing, this fic is loosely based off me, being a bisexual woman, and not experiencing homophobia personally, but seeing how others around me speak and feel about people in the LGBTQ community, i haven’t come out to my parents. so writing this, i hope this helps in anyway, whether it’s a tiny small or big significant way, to help whoever reads this know it’s okay to be queer. to love women. to love whoever the fuck you want to love. be yourself unapologetically and once you stop caring what the people around you feel, and stop thinking about how you may offend them for your choices and feelings, you’ll truly live a blissful life. okay that’s it, enjoy!

ఌ

❧ I've been hiding for so long

These feelings, they're not gone

Could I tell anyone?

You have always been an ally to the LGBTQ community. You had many friends who grew up to be gay or lesbian, nonbinary, all of the above. You even have family members part of the community. You didn't realize until you had hit high school that you were into a spectrum of people. Freshman year, you were curious and never even experimented with anyone other than boys. But by your junior year, you had realized you loved anyone…you were queer.

The thoughts of wanting to understand someone so deeply and have a beautiful connection that would manifest in a caring and long relationship, was all you seeked. It was never a phase that every teenager convinces themselves they're going through—it was real.

But you knew your parents. They'd say they were supportive because you had family that were queer. But now and then, the unsupportive side of them would slip and it made you scared for the reaction you'd get if you had said you not only liked men but everyone.

❧ Afraid of what they'll say

So I push them away

I'm acting so strange

You so desperately wanted to tell your parents about the feelings you had and the thoughts you wanted to share. You just could never get past the what if.

Any conversation about your love life you had dismissed. You couldn't possibly say that you liked a girl or someone who was different than themselves in their eyes. You knew it was getting obvious with the way you'd shut down the topic. You knew that your siblings would catch on.

The jokes they’d make about you being queer because you haven't mentioned the idea of being with a guy recently were starting to irritate you a little more every day. You just had to suck it up and "forget" to tell them about the most beautiful person you had ever met.

❧ They're so pretty, it hurts

I'm not talking 'bout boys

I'm talking 'bout girls

You don't know when it happened but you just knew you had to speak to this person. Their beautiful curly hair, the perfect height, the perfect style, the perfect facial features that were accentuated with the prettiest gold jewelry in their nose. They caught your eye the second you had walked into the club.

You had been with friends and you just couldn't stop looking. Your friends picked up on the longing glances you'd throw their way any chance the conversation got dull someplace.

"Just talk to them!" Your friend yelled over the loud music. "What's the worst that could happen?" They sipped through the straw of their drink while moving their eyes from you to the person you couldn't stop looking at.

"No. Absolutely not. They're way out of my league, dude." Oh, absolutely not. Your friend was not about to take no for an answer. They knew about your family situation. Even though you were a grown woman, your parent's opinions still mattered to you. What they thought of you was important.

"Babe, you are so beautiful and hot. Please be real here. They're coming over here anyways, now's your chance." They smiled, sipping their drink again watching the person walk up to the bar.

"Are you fucking serious?" You took a small step back and bumped into someone. Turning around immediately, you saw them. The perfect person you had been staring at all night long. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I did not know you were right there,"

"No it's okay, don't worry about it." They smiled at you. The height difference was stirring a nervous feeling in your belly. Like someone had released a butterfly sanctuary in your belly.

"Let me pay for your drink, it's the least I can do for someone as gorgeous as you." It slipped out. You hadn't even realized you said it until you said it and saw their face looking back at you. The embarrassment was unbearable. A small smile graced their features and they were thankful you couldn't see the small blush creeping on their cheeks.

"Oh, you don't have to but thank you. What's your name, pretty?" They leaned down so they could hear you better over the music. Your knees were weak.

"Y/n. And yours?" You looked at them, batting your eyelashes. It was hard not to try and make them interested. You thought they were so pretty, you had to have them.

"Naomi. Nice to meet you." You both smiled and insisted on paying for their drink. You paid for it and smiled. The smile faltered as you realized this may or may not be the very last time you see them ever.

"Hey—" You both spoke at the same time. You giggled and looked up at them, signaling for them to finish. "Can I get your number? Sorry if that's forward but your beautiful and want to know if you'd like to get coffee sometime?" They asked, leaning back up to gauge your expression.

"Oh yeah! I'd love to." You gave them your number and for the rest of the night, you both went about your own business with your separate parties. Catching each other's eye from across the room every now and then.

They were the most beautiful person you had ever seen in your whole entire life. It hurt your brain to even fathom how they could exist.

❧ They're so pretty with their button-up shirts

I shouldn't be feeling this

But it's too hard to resist

You and Naomi had hung out a lot of times after the club incident. You were so glad you had decided to get out of your house that night. You didn’t think you could sit through anymore phone calls of your mom telling you how nice her coworker's son was for the last 5 months. You did have to, every now and then.

They had told you they were in a band. A relatively famous one. You hadn't known any of that and were about to explode when they told you they opened for Taylor Swift on her Eras Tour. What made you so oblivious to this information? You had been there. You even asked about the dates and you didn't even realize you had watched Naomi perform.

They also told you that they had a show this coming weekend and needed help picking an outfit or two for the music festival. They invited you over to their house, which was a pretty close range from your condo that you lived in. You had been over more than a handful of times. You guys have been seeing each other for almost 5 months, making it official in the third month. 

"I say, you give me a fashion show and we can decide from there." You smiled at them. You honestly believe that you have never been this happy. Yeah, a few hetero relationships you had in the past you were happy. But you weren't truly happy. Not like this. You haven't told your parents about them but you truly wanted to. You wanted to tell them that Naomi had awakened a newfound liveliness to you. That they had made everything so much easier. You thanked your lucky stars for bumping into them five months ago. 

"I say, that's a great idea, gorgeous." They walked up to you sitting on the foot of the bed, planting a kiss on your forehead, and then walking to the closet to grab an outfit to try on.

They changed in the bathroom and walked out in long basketball shorts, a white wife beater, a jean jacket, and a backward black LA hat. Heat rose to your face, and all over your body. Especially there. You blushed intensely and smiled. "So this outfit is a yes, then?" Naomi laughed as they noticed the immediate reaction your body had. 

"Oh, hell yeah. I honestly think you should never take it off. Unless I'm taking it off you." You smiled and laughed. Their face flushed as they turned away for a second and looked back at you. You gave them a small wink as they walked up to you, crouched down, and grabbed your face pulling you into a kiss. 

Both of you smiled into the kiss, which started to grow more hot and heavy. A small sigh left your nose and you pulled away. "As much as I love doing that, you have a fashion show to finish, baby." A small frown pierced their lips as they grabbed a few new articles of clothing from their closet and walked into the bathroom. 

Walking out in a white button-up shirt, a tie hanging loosely around their neck under the collar, and black vintage Versace jeans. You absolutely loved this outfit. You loved the other one but something about this outfit made them look so professional, endearing, and just overall adorable. You had always loved when they would pick you up for dates and they were wearing an outfit similar to this with a button-up shirt. 

"Oh my god, I love this nomi. You look so good." You smiled as you pulled out your phone and took a video. Naomi does a small spin before flipping the camera off. They laughed and immediately apologized. You both now laughing together. 

❧ Soft skin and soft lips

The soft light from the sunset started creeping in through the bedroom window, adding an even more romantic ambiance to the room. Your soft pants fill the room. 

"Oh..my...god." You sighed heavily, your hands gripping the sheets tightly. Your chest rose and fell with the swift motion and pace Naomi had set with their fingers curling inside of you. You could not lie and say this wasn't better than any sex you had ever prior to now. 

"You're doing so good for me, sweet girl." A whiny moan left your throat as their soft praises and new pet name coaxed you closer and closer to the finish line. Your eyes looked into theirs. Your walls tighten around their slender fingers. How could someone be so good with just their fingers?

"Uh...don't stop. So close, baby." Your voice rose and thighs closed. "Just like that. I'm so close." You could not fathom the feeling they were making you feel. In almost a mere second, their fingers curled in just the right spot causing a soft scream to escape your lips. 

"Oh, baby." Naomi looked down at you, head dropping to kiss up your neck. Their soft lips traveled across your jawline, lips brushing the lobe of your ear. "Let go for me." They whispered, another soft whine left your lips as you did what they asked of you. "Yeah, just like that, baby." 

Naomi maneuvered their body back in front of your aching cunt. Sliding their fingers out, catching whatever slipped out with their tongue. You let out a soft cry, overly sensitive to touch as you were still coming down from what felt like the best high in your life. Naomi then put the fingers they had buried inside of you in their mouth, sucking and licking off any remnants of your orgasm off their fingers. 

You wouldn't lie...you could've come all over again just by watching them watch you while they did that. They then placed a soft kiss on your clit, a soft satisfied hum leaving their lips. Their lips trailed up your body until they found solace on yours again. The passionate kiss left you breathless and tasting yourself on their tongue. 

Naomi’s arms planted on either side of your waist, you ran your hands slowly up their arms. From their soft and slender wrists, all the way to the open expanse of their shirtless back. Naomi sighs at the cool sensation of your rings dragging across their body. 

You then pulled them in for another kiss, your arms slung over the back of their neck. Your fingertips graze the beautiful crazy curls on their head. 

You could stay here forever. 

❧ I should be into this guy

But it's just a waste of time

He's really not my type

I know what I like

"No, mom." I am not going on a date with Nick. He's not my type at the moment." You looked at Naomi, an incredulous look on your face, a quiet tut of laughter leaving their lips as their hand glided up your thigh. 

"Why not? What is your type then?" Your mom asked over the phone. You didn't know if you had wanted to flat-out say that you had been seeing someone. The someone being a famous queer public figure. Your mom on speaker, Naomi being able to hear the whole conversation. 

They nodded their head at you, a look of encouragement in their eyes. This whole ‘your mom trying to set you up’ thing was getting old. You just wanted to tell her that you were so in love with your partner.

"Mommy, I'm already seeing someone. And they make me very happy, any more than a man could." Naomi squeezed your thigh, their head resting in their hand that was leaning on the back of the couch. You smiled at them, mouthing 'I love you.' They did it back. Big smile across their face.

"What do you mean "any more than a man could"? Are you dating a woman? Are you seriously dating a woman? Y/n, don't make me tell your dad about this. What do you think he'll say?" She sighed loudly over the speaker. You started to get super nervous. 

You rubbed your other hand that wasn't holding the phone, across your chest. A heavy feeling weighing down on you suddenly. "No, mommy. They're not a woman either. They're nonbinary, which means they don't choose to identify as a boy or girl. I love them. They make me happy." 

"I don't want to hear details about this gay relationship." 

"I never said anything about that." 

"Well, I don't want to hear about it. I have to go. And I'm going to tell your father about this." You didn't even feel nervous anymore. The hard part was over and you honestly felt irritated that your mom couldn't just be happy that you were happy. Why did it matter who was making you happy?

"Okay, whatever." You hung up the phone and flopped your head against Naomi's chest. "I'm sorry she said what she said, baby. I didn't think she'd take it that bad. For once I thought she’d just listen and still accept what’s happening." You looked up at them. They leaned down and placed a kiss on your lips. 

"It's okay. We'll be okay. At least she knows now. The hard part is over, love." 

"Yes. It's finally over." You both lay there on your couch, cuddling for the rest of the morning. You could only think about how their opinions slowly started to not matter what they thought of Naomi. It only mattered what you thought and you thought the absolute world of them. You had truly never met anyone like them. 

❧ No, this is not a phase

Or a coming of age

This will never change

You and your parents had been fighting over the phone and dinner for the last week. They couldn't get used to the pronouns Naomi had gone by and not identifying with a gender, how they lived their life, and how we both chose to live it together. 

You had slowly started to get over your parent’s projecting and ignorance and felt at peace with your life. With your Naomi. They had known how stressful this had been for you, so a nice romantic weekend was planned for the both of you. Granted the weekend had consisted of you two at Josettes parent's vacation cabin by the lake. It was honestly so beautiful. 

The second night you were there, you celebrated your one-year anniversary with a nice candlelit dinner and walk outside by the dock. When you reached the end of the dock looking out across the lake, the moon casting the perfect light over the royal blue waters. "Naomi look how beautiful." You looked across at the landscape in front of you, your smile faltering when Naomi said they couldn't see it. "What do you me- Oh my god." 

Naomi was on one knee, a beautiful diamond ring in their hand. "Holy shit. No way. Naomi." You couldn't help the tears falling and the laughing trying to hide the fact that you were literally sobbing. 

"Y/n. You are so perfect. From your hair to your contagious laugh. Everything about you is engraved in my brain. I think about you when I'm thousands of miles away and when I'm right under you while you sleep against me." You could not stop the loud sob that escaped your throat. You immediately got on your knees and cupped their face. "I can't even remember what my life was like before you were in it and I don't want to know how it is after. I never want to have an after-you. This," they motioned their index finger between the two of you. Their eyes welling up with tears too. "Is forever. You and me. Will you marry me?" You kissed their lips, the kiss so tender yet so full of every emotion you could possibly feel in a moment like this. 

"Yes. Yes. It will always be a yes, baby." You continued to cry as they slid the ring on your finger. You could not have imagined that this would be your life a year ago. You never wanted to forget this. Forget them. 

Your parents would never understand you both. No matter how much they tried to will this relationship away. You both had already left an imprint in each other's lives. This was forever or nothing. Happiness or nothing. Your love for each other was never going away. 

❧ They're so pretty, it hurts

I'm not talking 'bout boys

I'm talking 'bout girls

You had spent the next day at the cabin wrapped in the sheets and each other's embrace. The bliss that came with Naomi was something so sacred and real. You knew that when you looked at them. 

You had woken up before them. The sun shining through the window behind you. Sitting up, wrapping and holding the sheets over your naked frame, you reached over and took a picture of their peaceful state of sleep. 

The way the sun shines on their features, accentuating the gorgeous freckles across their face, you posted it on your Instagram story. The first time your family will see that this was never a phase. It was real and it was happening.

Captioning the picture, "I can't wait to marry you." You had tagged Naomi before turning your phone off and laying back down next to them. Snuggling in closer, they wrapped their arm around your frame and pulled you closer before placing a soft kiss on your head. You both had gone back to sleep. Just you two against the world. 

❧ They're so pretty with their button-up shirts

They're so pretty, it hurts

I'm not talking 'bout boys

I'm talking 'bout girls

You knew you couldn't count on them to be here. The one special day that you'd ever have in your life and your family couldn't set their pride aside and be there. It didn't bother you much because you had friends and they showed up for you. That's what counted. That's the only thing that matters aside from marrying the love of your life. But it still hurt.

Josette had suggested she walk you down the aisle and you loved the idea. As you both walked down the aisle, you looked at her and then at Naomi. You three had all been crying as the seconds ticked that the marriage was official. 

Naomi in their tux, you in your long white wedding dress. This was perfect. They were perfect. A button-up shirt never looked as good on them as it did right now. 

❧ They're so pretty with their button-up shirts

'Cause I don't know what to do

It's not like I get to choose

Who I love

Your honeymoon consisted of laying in bed, sex, beach, sex, laying in bed, more sex, and sleeping. Falling for them was singlehandedly the best thing you had ever done. You could not believe this is who you got to do life with for the rest of it. 

You didn't choose to be queer. But you sure as hell glad that it got you here in this moment.

❧ They're so pretty, it hurts

I'm not talking 'bout boys

I'm talking 'bout girls

They're so pretty with their button-up shirts

And they're so pretty, it hurts

I'm not talking 'bout boys

I'm talking 'bout girls

They're so pretty, it hurts

Being out, not giving a single damn about who had to say what about your marriage, was a blissful life. You get to watch your soulmate do what they love, be who they are, and choose you to be a part of it. Going through the suppression and ignorance to get here...was so rewarding. 

Naomi. They were so pretty it hurt to even express the amount of attraction and admiration you had for them. You got to have them. All of them. 

Forever.

ఌ loving someone for who they are is all that matters. Whether your bisexual, lesbian, pan, etc. You don’t owe anyone a damn thing. Even if your not out yet, that’s okay. You won’t be in the closet forever, you will be yourself openly and unapologetically, whether it’s tomorrow or in the next year (and i’ll be on that journey with you); Loving a woman, loving your partner, is not a crime. It’s not wrong. No matter what anyone says. They can’t take your love, your identity, yourself, away from you. Never forget it.

[all-pacas]

Can you talk more about Chase's moral stand in The Dictator and what made him do such a shift? While Chase did care about people outside of his immediate circle at times,it was (almost) always by the way of him relating to said experiences and/or bonding with the patients.

I really don't think it's that complicated. As fun as it is to joke about Chase's utter lack of morals and empathy, that's never actually been true. He reaches out to Foreman in Family with empathy and an offer to go drinking; he reaches out to Cameron in Cursed with offers to do work so she can go home and to… go drinking (Chase has one move). He is very upset when he loses patients in Maternity and Forever (both babies; still). He cries over House's "cancer" in Half Wit even before the hug. He falls very hard for Cameron; he reaches out to 13 in After Hours, his pro-euthanasia stance in Informed Consent is about easing pain. One of my favorite little moments is in Cane and Able: the child patient's parents are exasperated and unsupportive of their son's alien abduction delusions, and Chase makes a point in talking to them, telling them pretty frankly that they need to support their son, even if they think he's nuts. He didn't need to do that. He was absolutely right. When he finds out House lied to the transplant committee in Control, he does rat to Vogler… but he doesn't do anything to undermine the transplant, which proceeds. Generally speaking, he knows right from wrong and doesn't approve of "harming people" (in particular children) or "hurting people." Yes, we mostly see that with the people he does care about, but. He doesn't really like Foreman much. Foreman is often quite dismissive of Chase. Chase still offers to go drinking. Is he the nicest and sweetest guy ever? Nah. But he's not evil.

Where his "lack of morals" comes in is that Chase puts himself first. He's not selfish in the way we usually think of it; he does care for other people, and quite a lot at times. But he's a survivor, he looks out for himself first. The rare times he refuses an order from House, it's because he thinks the risk to his career or license is too high. If a task requires him to go out of his way when he doesn't care about it, he won't do it. If a task leads him into an uncomfortable situation, as in Safe — faced with the choice of revealing to the patient's overprotective parents that their daughter is sexually active, or just billing them for a test and letting them find out on their own time — he chooses the easier-for-him option. He doesn't really care that House is on drugs. He doesn't really care about all the shady things his job comes with, as long as he doesn't risk losing it, getting arrested, or the end result. Lying to a patient? Why not, if it gets the job done. That doesn't mean he's pro murder. It just means he's lazy and pragmatic. Again, the rare times he defies House, it's when House is asking him to do something that is too "high risk" for Chase.

So the thing about Dibala is that Chase actually feels that murder is still wrong. He has morals, and those morals are: don't kill people, it's wrong. He makes it pretty clear.

CHASE: You can't want to kill anyone, especially not your own patient. CAMERON: It's only natural to feel he should – CHASE: No, it's completely unnatural. Only psychopaths can kill other people without having some sort of breakdown. CAMERON: Not when it's justified. Look at soldiers. CHASE: Even when it's justified.

Except the entire episode, all Chase is hearing is the opposite. I'm not saying Cameron pushed him into it or anything: he made up his own mind. But Cameron keeps telling him he's evil and should die. Dibala's would-be assassin tells him, twice, that Dibala is evil and should die and here is what he witnessed and did.

So let's look at the scene where Chase decides to do a murder. Cameron has been going through her own Arc in this episode, passive-aggressively hinting someone should kill Dibala but not making any moves on her own. Dibala gets sick of this and grabs her, challenging her to act, not just talk, but Cameron can't do it and backs down, leaving Chase and Dibala alone.

CHASE: If you touch my wife again, I'll kick your ass out into the street. I don't care who you are. DIBALA: I did her a favor. I showed her her true character. CHASE: She's a better person than you are. DIBALA: She is too weak to act on her beliefs. That is not her fault. Most everyone is. Even my own advisors. My own colonel. All they do is negotiate and debate and sign treaties. They are appeasers. And all the while, we are beset by assassins and traitors, the scum – CHASE: Cockroaches? What are you going to do about them? DIBALA: What is an enemy to you? Some younger physician who covets your office? In my world, there are dangers and bloodshed and death. And that makes you a man. And men make choices. CHASE: And your choice is to send bands of drunk, crazed children to massacre an entire people? DIBALA: Don't ask me questions you don't want to know the answer to. CHASE: I saved your life. I deserve to know what you're planning to – DIBALA: Whatever it takes to protect my country.

Chase is mad: he just hurt Cameron, and more than that, Chase is a little betrayed. He and Dibala kind of got along before this. I wouldn't say Chase liked him, but they bonded. Until this moment, Dibala was polite. He was complimentary. He offered Chase excuses, and Chase probably wanted to believe them. Not anymore! Dibala just hurt Cameron, called her weak, and told Chase blatantly "I'm planning another genocide."

Chase is angry: I saved your life, you need to be honest with me, you shouldn't be like this.

Until now, Dibala had polite excuses: it wasn't his fault, he had bad subordinates who killed people, he made mistakes. Weak excuses, but the kind of excuses Chase probably did believe, kind of wanted to believe. Not anymore! This nice old man has just revealed himself to be planning more murders!

That's what makes Chase act. What tips him past "I'm not getting involved" into "time to do a murder." He spends the entire episode hearing everyone talk about how someone should kill Dibala. And then Dibala betrays his (very misplaced) trust, reveals himself to be just as evil as everyone has said, and even gives Chase a nice little speech about how strength is to act, how to be a man is to make a choice, not just sit back and do what's easier.

It was never a matter of lol Chase is fine with murder, he doesn't care about anything. Chase cares about quite a lot of things. The trick was getting him to care enough to put himself at risk and act.

[mariana-oconnor]

The Naval Treaty pt 2

Here we are, back again. Last time we learnt about Watson's previous life as a school bully and I took an instant and entirely unsupported-by-the-text dislike to a man named Joseph Harrison because he was described as being nice.

This is also a problem I sometimes have in real life, btw. I am suspicious of people who seem too outwardly open and friendly. My brain assumes that they are hiding something. Maybe my soul is broken.

I'm still convinced he's a secret puppy-murdering villain, though.

"I was a happy and successful man, Mr. Holmes, and on the eve of being married, when a sudden and dreadful misfortune wrecked all my prospects in life."

Look, look, look. If there's one thing these stories have told me it's that in Sherlock Holmes world the time just before you're married is the most dangerous time in your life. Evil parents, lost loves, evil exes and all sorts of foul fiends crawl out of the woodwork of your past and try to drag you down. Engaged people should have constant bodyguards in this world.

"They should not leave my bureau were it not that it is absolutely necessary to have them copied."

I'm feeling like I'm about to have a bit of a rant about opsec and how to protect confidential documents. Percy, if you take this treaty offsite, we're gonna be having words.

“Excuse me an instant,” said Holmes. “Were you alone during this conversation?”

Exactly what I was thinking. Did you take proper precautions before talking about the secret documents that you were going to be moving from their secure location? Was anyone listening at a keyhole?

“My uncle's voice is always remarkably low. I hardly spoke at all.”

His uncle whispers constantly. Is that because he feels like true authority never shouts? Or does he have some sort of a condition? Does he just smoke so much that now he constantly has a rasp?

"One of them in my room, Charles Gorot, had some arrears of work to make up, so I left him there and went out to dine."

You mean he's working on these top secret documents and locking them up in a shared office space. But the other people sharing his office do not have the clearance to work with them? And he just... left the building? With someone else right there?

Nope. Nuhuh. If they're as important and secret as indicated, could he not have a private office for the duration. You said he's working on these after hours, so you could totally lock him in a separate room with a guard on the door (it's a fire hazard, but it's the Victorian Era, so I don't think they cared). Are there no free rooms available in this building at all? Have you never had this situation come up before?

Also, those desk drawer locks are not very secure.

“When I came to examine the treaty I saw at once that it was of such importance that my uncle had been guilty of no exaggeration in what he had said. Without going into details, I may say that it defined the position of Great Britain towards the Triple Alliance, and fore-shadowed the policy which this country would pursue in the event of the French fleet gaining a complete ascendancy over that of Italy in the Mediterranean."

Percy. That's too much detail. No. You don't talk about it. You don't talk about it. Oh my god. You are bad at this. If it's so secret that no one in your office was supposed to know about it's existence in that office, then it's way too secret for you to just go about telling these two guys who just rolled up - one of whom used to beat you with wicket stumps - anything about its contents.

Percy... please...

(image from Wikipedia)

“It was a long document, written in the French language, and containing twenty-six separate articles. I copied as quickly as I could, but at nine o'clock I had only done nine articles, and it seemed hopeless for me to attempt to catch my train."

There is a theme in these stories of people being set tasks to copy out documents that are too long for the copying time allotted. Did ACD have a job as a copyist at some point. This feels like some shade coming from personal experience to me.

A quick glance at his biography doesn't give me any indication of that, but does reference his school being run on 'medieval principles' and I can well imagine that one of the things they were forced to do was copying. But that is only my imagination.

Also, I can empathise so much with Percy here. The 'oh god, I'm going to miss my train and be stuck here if I don't finish this work soon' feeling is real and valid and very upsetting.

"I was feeling drowsy and stupid, partly from my dinner and also from the effects of a long day's work. A cup of coffee would clear my brain."

Accent on the stupid, I fear. Are you about to leave this top secret document on your desk while you go looking for your caffeine fix. Say it ain't so.

"I rang the bell, therefore, to summon him."

I stand corrected. And wow - personal delivery service of hot beverages at the office. How times have changed!

Although, since I now work from home I do get biscuits delivered to my desk every day, so I can't really complain.

“To my surprise, it was a woman who answered the summons, a large, coarse-faced, elderly woman, in an apron. She explained that she was the commissionaire's wife, who did the charing, and I gave her the order for the coffee."

OK, problem number 1 - your own colleagues weren't high enough clearance to be in the room when you're copying this, but the commissionaire is?

Problem number 2 - you don't recognise this lady. She says she's the commissionaire's wife, but do you know that. And even if you do know that, does she have clearance for this document?

ALSO - 'large' and 'coarse-faced' given the time period, this could well be indicative that this is a man disguised as a woman.

“I wrote two more articles and then, feeling more drowsy than ever, I rose and walked up and down the room to stretch my legs. My coffee had not yet come, and I wondered what was the cause of the delay could be."

Oh Percy.

Oh Percy you didn't.

You went and left it sitting on the goddamn desk didn't you?

Clean. Desk. Policy. NEVER LEAVE ANY DOCUMENTS ON YOUR DESK WHEN YOU ARE NOT AT IT. This is basic security protocol if you work with sensitive material, Percy. It's not difficult. This isn't something you do every day so you don't even have the excuse of just forgetting this one time. This is a specific document that you have clearly been told is not to be removed from its locked drawer except in exceptional circumstances. And you're wandering around the halls and leaving it just lying there. After having spoken to a woman you don't know with it right in front of her.

Oooh, we get a map. I love maps.

I thought for a minute the map was going to prove that there was only one corridor between his room and the commissionaire's office, meaning that if anyone went past, he'd see them, making him leaving the document on the desk almost acceptable. But no. There's a second corridor off. The man is a muppet.

Please have this image of an infinitely better Percy to tide you over:

"Then I put out my hand and was about to shake the man, who was still sleeping soundly, when a bell over his head rang loudly, and he woke with a start."

First instinct is that he was drugged.

But the commissionaire seems to know about the coffee... which he wouldnt' if the woman hadn't told him about it. So was she his wife? Was I off track with that? Or is she telling different lies to both parties?

“‘If you was here, sir, then who rang the bell?’ he asked.

GHOSTS!

I mean, no, but once again we have a horror movie sort of line.

“A cold hand seemed to close round my heart. Some one, then, was in that room where my precious treaty lay upon the table. I ran frantically up the stair and along the passage. There was no one in the corridors, Mr. Holmes. There was no one in the room. All was exactly as I left it, save only that the papers which had been committed to my care had been taken from the desk on which they lay. The copy was there, and the original was gone.”

I know I say this a lot but: Oh no! Who could ever have foreseen that this would happen? What a totally unpreventable occurrence! Clearly nothing could have been done to stop this. Fate is so cruel.

So nice of them to leave the unfinished copy, though.

“I recognized in an instant that the thief must have come up the stairs from the side door. Of course I must have met him if he had come the other way.”

Wow, look at that braincell chugging along. If only you had thought of this before.

"It was quarter to ten.” “That is of enormous importance,” said Holmes, making a note upon his shirt-cuff.

Obviously.

I feel like this might be because of train times. We had that comment before about Percy being afraid he'd miss his train, and now the time is important. Train timetables are where my brain automatically went to. Quick! To the Bradshaw's!

“‘Ah, that is only my wife,’ cried the commissionaire; ‘has no one else passed?’"

So either the wife is involved, or his wife is currently being impersonated. Which is a difficult task to pull off to the person's spouse, so I'm inclined to believe that his wife is just tall and coarse-faced and in league with Joseph Harrison (Stop looking at me like that! He'll be involved somehow. 'How could he possibly have known about Percy copying the treaty?' you ask. I don't know, there are two more parts of this story left. That guy's bad news. I feel it.)

“But I was not satisfied, and the attempts which he made to draw me away increased my suspicions. “‘Which way did the woman go?’ I cried. “‘I don't know, sir. I noticed her pass, but I had no special reason for watching her. She seemed to be in a hurry.’"

Like she was smuggling stolen documents???

Also, Percy is engaging his brain here. It might not be the right solution, but at least he isn't just blindly trusting that the commissionaire's wife is fine. She saw the document, he hasn't seen her since, she left after the document was stolen.

“‘You're only wasting your time, sir, and every minute now is of importance,’ cried the commissionaire; ‘take my word for it that my old woman has nothing to do with it, and come down to the other end of the street."

OK, commissionaire's also sus. We do not trust him. Maybe he isn't married at all. Maybe he's just been paid off by Joseph Harrison who is posing as his wife with a paisley scarf.

Still doesn't solve the question of how Harrison would know about the document. Unless the commissionaire was paid to tip him off about anything weird going on so he could capitalise on it. Possible.

It also doesn't explain the bell.

Why the bell? Why summon them back to the room when you're about to make your escape? I can't think of a reason for that to be a good idea. Although we only have the commissionaire's word it was the bell in Percy's office. Could have been any bell. But even then, why did they need him to find the documents gone right then and there?

Always possible someone was standing behind the door when they came in and in his panic Percy just didn't think to look around at that point. Classic locked room mystery trick, although this time there wasn't even a locked room.

“‘16 Ivy Lane, Brixton,’ he answered. ‘But don't let yourself be drawn away upon a false scent, Mr. Phelps. Come to the other end of the street and let us see if we can hear of anything.’"

This is a reasonable line for the commissionaire to take if the lady is his wife, but at the same time, there's something about the way in which it is phrased that still fills me with suspicion. 'don't let yourself be drawn away upon a false scent' is so very odd a way to say it. You'd expect more protesting his wife's innocence. The values of her character that mean she would never. This reads like someone who is very intent that Percy should indeed be drawn away upon a false scent, just the one he's dangling in front of him.

“Nothing was to be lost by following his advice."

Nooooo. Percy. You should have kept going. Believe in yourself. Sure, up to this point you've been pretty rubbish at this whole spy thing, but these were good instincts.

“How is it, then, that the woman who came into the room about nine left no traces with her muddy boots?” “I am glad you raised the point. It occurred to me at the time. The charwomen are in the habit of taking off their boots at the commissionaire's office, and putting on list slippers.”

This did not occur to me, but cool little bit of evidence, and nice to see Percy using his brain again. The man clearly used wisdom as a dump stat, but his intelligence is pretty high.

“We examined the room also. There is no possibility of a secret door, and the windows are quite thirty feet from the ground. Both of them were fastened on the inside. The carpet prevents any possibility of a trap-door, and the ceiling is of the ordinary whitewashed kind. I will pledge my life that whoever stole my papers could only have come through the door.”

Our options are these: it was the wife, or it was a third person who hid behind the door when you came into the room and then escaped while you were busy chasing after the thief you assumed had already left. The ringing of the bell makes no sense in either of these cases because it would be easier to just walk out without attracting attention back to where you are. it's not like they needed you to unlock the door. Why did the bell ring? Was it an accident?

“They use none. There is a stove. The bell-rope hangs from the wire just to the right of my desk. Whoever rang it must have come right up to the desk to do it. But why should any criminal wish to ring the bell? It is a most insoluble mystery.”

Precisely! I'm sure it's not insoluble, but as the case stands currently, I cannot make it make sense unless it was a mistake. But pulling a bell by accident is a strange sort of accident to have.

A young woman opened the door, who proved to be Mrs. Tangey's eldest daughter. Her mother had not come back yet, and we were shown into the front room to wait. “About ten minutes later a knock came at the door, and here we made the one serious mistake for which I blame myself. Instead of opening the door ourselves, we allowed the girl to do so. We heard her say, ‘Mother, there are two men in the house waiting to see you,’"

That's your serious mistake?

I mean, yeah, it's bad, but I think that is just the most recent in a series.

OK, so either the commissionaire has a wife OR the young woman is also caught up in this affair. It's becoming more convoluted to believe the commissionaire is involved, but if he isn't involved then are we to assume that old woman number 1 was indeed his wife and old woman 2 was an imposter. Or are they both his wife and he just doesn't know she's involved. He is sus, but his involvement makes everything more complicated and to occam's razor the thing, one thief is more likely than a conspiracy.

“Then for the first time the horror of my situation came in its full force. Hitherto I had been acting, and action had numbed thought. I had been so confident of regaining the treaty at once that I had not dared to think of what would be the consequence if I failed to do so."

Percy isn't very good at thinking ahead, apparently.

"It was horrible. Watson there would tell you that I was a nervous, sensitive boy at school."

Maybe that was because people beat you with sticks.

"What though I was the victim of an extraordinary accident? No allowance is made for accidents where diplomatic interests are at stake."

Uh, my dude. This wasn't an accident. This was negligence. You should totally be fired for this. Sorry.

"Here I have lain, Mr. Holmes, for over nine weeks, unconscious, and raving with brain-fever.[...]Slowly my reason has cleared, but it is only during the last three days that my memory has quite returned."

90% that the motive was not political because after 9 weeks there's no way a political threat hasn't already taken the papers and used them. No way of resolving that. But these stories often end with 'well, we can't get the bad guy', so maybe not. But I can't see them doing that in a case of national security because they tend to be fairly patriotic. It has to be somewhere close for there to be any chance of recovering the treaty.

"If you fail me, then my honor as well as my position are forever forfeited.”

You should already have lost your position. The only reason for you keeping it right now is nepotism. You were given a top secret document. You, through negligence, allowed it to be stolen. That's not even a vaguely unreasonable dismissal.

“There is one of the very utmost importance, however. Did you tell any one that you had this special task to perform?”

This is the one sticking point for my Joseph Harrison blame party. How would he have known? Unless he didn't know how important the document was, but then what's even the point?

"The authorities are excellent at amassing facts, though they do not always use them to advantage. What a lovely thing a rose is!”

Holy non sequitur, Batman!

“There is nothing in which deduction is so necessary as in religion,” said he, leaning with his back against the shutters. “It can be built up as an exact science by the reasoner. Our highest assurance of the goodness of Providence seems to me to rest in the flowers. All other things, our powers our desires, our food, are all really necessary for our existence in the first instance. But this rose is an extra. Its smell and its color are an embellishment of life, not a condition of it. It is only goodness which gives extras, and so I say again that we have much to hope from the flowers.”

O...kay... Objection: relevance?

“You suspect some one?” “I suspect myself.” “What!” “Of coming to conclusions too rapidly.”

Not helpful, Holmes.

“Then go to London and test your conclusions.” “Your advice is very excellent, Miss Harrison,” said Holmes, rising. “I think, Watson, we cannot do better. Do not allow yourself to indulge in false hopes, Mr. Phelps. The affair is a very tangled one.”

Oof, Miss Harrison is very direct. I like that. I hope she isn't involved, but I can't currently see a motive for her. 'Stop talking about roses and go do your job.' Heh.

“He was cold, but not harsh. I dare say my severe illness prevented him from being that. He repeated that the matter was of the utmost importance, and added that no steps would be taken about my future—by which he means, of course, my dismissal—until my health was restored and I had an opportunity of repairing my misfortune.”

I guess firing someone with brain fever does come across as a bit rude. Maybe I'm just mean.

I hope to conclude the tale in my next email.

But it says 2 of 4, Watson?

I'm still sure that Joseph Harrison has something to do with it. Sure, there's literally 0 evidence of that. He hasn't even been mentioned in this section that I've seen. He has no way of knowing about the document, no evidence that he was there. No evidence of motive (except that his sister is getting married and that makes people commit crimes sometimes apparently). But I don't like him, so I will persist.

We've got a mysterious bell, a fleeing woman who may or may not have been the commissionaire's wife and a document that no one should have known Percy had.

The only people who knew about the document were Percy, his uncle and the woman who came to take his coffee order, as far as we know.

So either one of them told someone, the crime was merely opportunity based and not specific to that document, or one of them committed the crime.

We're going to discount Percy because why would he call in Holmes if he did it himself and he's been pretty clear and explicit in his insistence that he did not tell anyone.

His uncle could have told someone. No doubt other people were aware that a copy needed to be made and could have made extrapolations, but that seems too distanced from the narrative at this point. His uncle could have stolen the treaty himself, but it seems unlikely he'd be involved in treason based on what we've seen of him. We have no motive for his treason.

Would the commissionaire's wife be able to read French legalese? Maybe? Was the woman even the commissionaire's wife. Or perhaps the wife herself is uninvolved. She came, took the coffee... but then how would her imposter know about the document?

Whoever the woman who took the coffee order was, they're the only person who had a chance to see the document. But why would anyone think to impersonate the commissionaire's wife if they didn't already know about the treaty? I keep going round in circles.

And the bell is still weird. Accident or lure? But why lure? How accident? Hmmmm...

[cannibal-nightmares]

For the ask game, 9, 10, & 34 !!

from this ask game!

9 - Tell a story from your childhood.

I'll admit, this ask sat in my inbox because of this question. I've realized I remember mostly only snippets and themes and flashes from my childhood, and I think I've taken the word "story" too seriously in this context; the actual "stories" that remain are either that of horror, or teenage mischief (in which I am not about to be a bad influence on the internet heheh), some of which I would need help from my friends to recall in detail. I tried to maybe find my old photos of when I dressed up as Crona for Halloween when I was about 12 years old, but they must be on my old computer. (For the record, I don't remember that Halloween, I just know it happened. My two best friends dressed up as Medusa and Eruka.) My memories seem to be that of a zoetrope with a lot of the frames cut out; don't get me wrong, I spin them, still, all the same, but I must say it took me a whole month to think up of something to answer with...

Let's see, how do I start this story... I suppose I should preface that I was a bit of an anarchist in high school, in the ways that I could be. An example of which, with the help of some friends, we started two clubs, one of which was an under-the-table incognito after-hours ordeal that was meant for queer kids to have a space with like-peers--especially if their homes were unsupportive and unsafe--and the second was the art club. Now, an "art club" may seem pretty standard, but it was more or less based around a similar idea to the former ^^; But the reason I am describing all of this is because the art club--being comprised of a bunch of other-minded LGBT and ally kids--simply didn't want to (or couldn't, due to their idenities) go to prom. Sooo, instead, we organized a trip to Volcom (RIP), an art studio, an outdoor art museum, and--the headlining event--the graffiti park (also RIP). The graffiti park was just as it sounds: Tiered rows of walls where the public could just come by to make art. We all dressed up in thrifted formal wear (yknow, stuff we could get paint on, dresses and button ups) and played around with spray paint for the afternoon. I caught a glimpse of what makes Austin TX that day as a guy sat at the foot of the hill with a typewriter--you could pay or trade him anything to have him write you a poem (I didn't get a poem from him, but I did get one from an artist last year ^^), and... A guy and his friends who spotted my buttons. He asked if I wanted to trade pins with him. Being a kid, I cautiously declined, but he departed with words I still hold very close to me to this day:

"Peace, love, and anarchy."

10. Would you say you're an emotional person?

This is a fascinating question because I have no idea how to answer it. When you initially sent this, I paced around about it until I got tired. I feel inclined to say "Yes, undeniably," and simultaneously "absolutely not." I'm mentioned before that I'm schizoaffective--one part schizophrenic, one part bipolar--but, I'll admit, the latter has hard for me to get my head wrapped around and conceptualize, I've only very recently have been able to observe and acknowledge when more intense emotions come and go, arrive and vanish without notice. But this is just the thing, right? Observation? I don't know how not to compartmentalize my emotions, so while I might feel something intensely, I sincerely don't know how to express it in a way that's adequate (or "appropriate"), so oftentimes I just don't. Or I get ahead of myself and know I am going to feel completely different--and very starkly so--so my subconscious tries to constantly find a middle ground to rectify future confusion for anyone else involved, or to mitigate the damage of whiplash. How do I explain this? It's hard to excite me, but very easy to interest me, and I often worry that discourages folks sometimes because I tend to have a flat affect about things. "Mania vs happiness" is a very new concept I've been trying to untangle and decode within myself, too. For whatever it's worth, the only emotion I have a firm grasp on is rage--nothing makes me more level-headed and laser-focused than pristine anger, hahaha, and, really, I don't know why. Am I emotional? I don't know. I guess on paper, at least, I am. I come upon social situations and obstacles and I can't help but break them all down to fact and observation. A sort of disorganized tidbit here, but, too, if anything, I struggle to name the emotions I do feel; when people ask how I am, I don't know how to answer other than describing whatever activity I'm doing or project I'm neck-deep in. With both constant compartmentalization and a broken affect (either generally flat or I can't stop grinning about nothing), it's hard for me to pin it down. Perhaps I should ask for an outside perspective... I hope this starts to answer your question.

34. Any pet peeves?

I could ramble on about how much I can't stand small talk from strangers or when my colleagues use work-specific lingo in trying to communicate with patrons, but I've got one better: It blows my mind (/neg) when people seemingly don't have a shred of curiosity about anything. Nothing? Really? NOTHING is fascinating? Okay, yeah, maybe plants are boring to the next guy and maybe they don't care about how the cogs in a machine work, but when I drop a foreign word at work or a patron comes in with a wacky hat or we watch birds court on the sidewalk or we hear a questionable factoid on the news and nothing makes you go, at the very least, "huh..." ??? Rocks my world in a bad way. And I'm not talking about someone with low energy or someone who has a hard time focusing to absorb these kinds of things, I'm talking about "Hey, do you ever wonder--" "No." WHAT. Nothing at all? And curiosity doesn't have to be factual, "why does the moon revolve around the earth?" it doesn't have to be social, "What's your favoruite color?" Curiosity can be dragging a pen across paper just to watch a line appear; so when someone has absolutely no fascination? Maybe it's just something I don't understand. Tell me, AITA? Curiosity is the only thing that keeps me sane, I swear by it.

Thank you so much for the asks and for your patience. ^^

[kalamity-jayne]

If I may ask, how do I come out to my homophobic family in the future? I have told no one in person that I'm a GNC lesbian, except for my therapist and a handful of friends at school. It's a scary thought and as dumb as this request seems, I just need some reassurance and advice. Thanks, Miss Jayne 💛

Hello dear! Apologies for my extremely slow response! I hope I’m not too late with this advice!

First off, your request is absolutely not dumb! So, my first piece of advice: Be kinder to yourself. We all deserve to be supported in times of need and there should be no shame in seeking it from your community. What you’re about to do is no small thing, even for those with supportive families!

Now, as always, I have to give give the caveat that I don’t have the full context of your situation so there may be flaws in the advice I give but you are of course welcome to follow up with me in the notes and we can have more of a back and forth.

Without further ado, lets get into it.

I am so sorry that your family is homophobic, whether their bigotry is quietly casual or openly hostile, they are hurting you.

You deserve better!

Now, before we can address the question of how to come out to your family it's important to ask yourself whether you should come out to them at all. According to your blog header you're a minor and that unfortunately means your parents or legal guardians (for the time being lets table the issue of siblings) have a good deal over power over you. DO NOT COME OUT TO YOUR FAMILY OR ANYONE ELSE IF YOU DON'T FEEL COMPLETELY SAFE WITH THEM! If you were an adult I'd maybe say proceed with coming out but because you're a minor you shouldn't out yourself unless you are reasonably sure it wouldn't result in violence, getting kicked out of your house, having money for college withheld, or unfair restrictions on your freedom (such as who you're allowed to be friends with), etc etc.

You need to step back and look at the bigger picture. Take your time to consider all of the angles and determine when you'll achieve full independence from your parents. Is it simply a matter of turning 18? When will you be able to move out and live on your own terms? Do you need them to pay for college? At what point will you no longer need them for anything? Independence here is when your parents can no longer materially affect the arc of your life. Once you've figured out where that threshold is, break down the steps and milestones you need to get there. Then you just have to keep your head down, stay out of trouble, focus on school and get good grades, save as much money as you can, and take every step you can to ensure you can to be free of them as soon as possible and never ever take your eyes off that prize.

Try to remember that the time between your current age and when you reach legal adulthood is going to go by fast. It may be hard to believe that now because you're young and very much in it but one day you will wake up with another decade or two under your belt and these teenage years will feel like a short but formative blip. Having said that, how do you maintain your sanity in the meantime? Find the people and places where you can safely be yourself! Got a friend who's gay or an ally and their whole family are proud diehard LGBTQ allies? Think of them as your surrogate family and spend as much time there as you can. Is there a queer safe space the kids at your school like to hang out? Go frequently! Do whatever you have to do to survive so long as it doesn't come at the cost of your own well being long term.

Now, let's say a few years have passed and you are officially free and independent. How to come out.

Coming out to unsupportive family is a minefield. However, especially once you've become an adult, you have a very good sense of where those landmines are which means you can probably predict and anticipate how they'll react which again will mitigate any potential harm to you because you saw the hit coming and were ready for it.

The most important thing is figuring out the shape of your boundaries and asserting them without flinching. Know your triggers and who's really good at getting under your skin, and plan out what you're going to say to assert your boundary ahead of time. For example: Whenever I talk to my parents they inevitably want to discuss the trans news of the day and let's be real, that news is usually very unpleasant and as soon as I'm done talking to them I tend to spin out in emotional distress because their attempts at virtue signaling are a reminder of how they rejected me as a nascently trans teenager. So now whenever my parents try to discuss trans issues I shut them down by saying, "I don't want to talk about that stuff with you cause I see it and live it everyday."

That brings me to the next aspect of being prepared. Set your self up for success. Don't attempt these conversations when you're not in the right headspace for them. Don't have the conversation at a time/place when/where you'll be distracted and remove any distractions that maybe present or come up. Make sure you're comfortable and do whatever you have to do to reduce the pressure of the situation, such as writing out what it is you want to say ahead of time, maybe even practice with friend.

Because your family is homophobic, I strongly recommend coming out to them over the phone (again, only works when you're fully independent). This way you will be safer and more secure in yourself and you can have an ally there with you, which I also strongly recommend doing. Whoever is in your corner, bring them in because their presence will give you confidence, and if you get hurt by your family they are there to hold you immediately and help you process the conversation when it's over. Do not hesitate to reach out to your people out of some misplaced concern that you'd be bothering them True friends will never be bothered or put out by a call for support. Real friends will be happy that you reached out to them for help.

Now comes the bitter pill I'm afraid. Because your family is homophobic and likely to react like a bunch of shit-asses, you have to be prepared to cut some or all of them out of your life completely. If they are unwilling to change and accept you for who you are, then you need to protect yourself from their toxicity. People are fond of saying, "you can't pick your family" and "family is everything," but I call that load of bs. Is your family's love really love if it's conditional on you living a lie? Don't fall for the hallmark channel nonsense about families and parents that our culture is constantly forcing down our throats because love is a two way street and you are under no obligation to maintain relationships with people who reject you and treat you like garbage. This is yet another reason why I would wait until you're an independent adult. Cutting out your family of origin isn't so bad when you've built a chosen family around yourself first.

I hope this advice was helpful and please feel free to follow up in the notes. Also, know that I'm rooting for you. Everyone reading this is rooting for you. Just hang in there a little longer cause freedom is just around the corner.

Sincerely,

❤️Mother Calamity❤️

[abysscronica]

I hope it's ok to ask, I noticed you don't interact with many blogs or fandom discourse in general. Is there a reason?

Okay, I've received a couple of asks and DMs more or less revolving around this topic, so I'm going to address it here.

My blog's main goal is to interact with my existing readers, since all my stories are on AO3 and Wattpad (I've only posted a couple here). I use it to answer your questions on my writings, the characters, and whatever you guys want to ask me, and I love it. Of course I'm happy if I get some more readers from Tumblr, but that's not my primary aim here, at least for now.

It would be great to use this page to expand my followers, but I barely have time to actually write these days, so unfortunately, at the moment, I can't afford to spend any to curate this space... except for answering your asks. (on this regard, I know I'm months late for some, please don't lose hope, everything is there and will be worked on eventually!)

That said, even if I do get time to dedicate to my tumblr at some point, it'll probably be ordering my posts and posting my other stories, not much more. Before I go into more details on my thoughts on fandom discourse and fics/headcanons, let me repeat the usual disclaimer...

The ones below represent my very personal views. They are not right or wrong, and it absolutely does not mean I disapprove of different views. I encourage you all to enjoy the fandom experience and community in the way you see fit, as long as it's not damaging you or anyone else.

Fandom discourse. I... simply don't really care about it. I'm talking mainly about One Piece, but this can apply to any content I enjoy. Here's how my experience goes: I read the manga, the SBS, watch the anime, consume basically any content available. I follow a couple of OP youtubers talking about every little thing, from chapter reviews to any kind of news (Tekking101 and Sawyer7mage). Then I write fanfictions based on all the knowledge accumulated, of course expanding into my personal headcanons. This pretty much satiates my thirst for content and need for sources.

Obviously I enjoy talking about OP with other fans, especially like-minded ones such as Kid Pirates fans. Buuuut being an active part of the community can also be exhausting. I'm sure you know there's a lot of Kid dissing going on for example, and Kid fans are often caught in battles to defend him. I honestly don't want to take part into it, because I don't think other people's feelings about a character should influence my experience of the show anyway, so I don't care about changing their mind either. I just... wanna do my own thing and share it with my mutuals & readers.

Analyses, meta, theories. Honestly, the two OP youtubers I follow (plus Arthur's posts on Twitter) fulfill this need in a very comprehensive way. I've yet to see a single tumblr post that comes even close to their insights (but if you know some, feel free to point me in that direction, I'll be happy to check them out). They often even contain inaccurate information. I do reblog whatever I deem interesting though, and I'll gladly answer to anything if you wanna know about my thoughts.

Fics & headcanons. Once again, I'll always be super happy to share my content with you guys. I cannot accept fic requests but feel free to ask for any headcanon you may be interested in!

As for other people's stuff. I said this before, unfortunately I'm a terribly picky reader (this does not only apply to fics, but to literature in general). The slightest hint of "unjustified" OC, a Mary Sue trait on a MC, too many cliches, a writing style that does not catch me... I'll scroll ahead. I know many will roll their eyes at this, and they are right, but I just won't impose something I don't fully enjoy to myself, not with my limited spare time. But writers should write whatever they want and I'll never be unsupportive of that, even if it's not my jazz! The stuff I read and enjoyed, I reblog.

This should be all I have to say on the matter. If you have any further question, feel free to send and ask.

[seriouslyseravellan]

I know it's been mentioned by others before, but I absolutely love how DA2 has an unreliable narrator; specifically, in this case, when it comes to Merrill (especially a romanced Merrill).

It's shown in the game (however subtly) that Merrill is actually rather intelligent; she just doesn't get social cues (autism, anyone?). Merrill recognises the risks of using blood magic, and she accepts that her field of study may very well lead to her demise.

This is to say, I adore Merrill, and I find her to be a very compelling character. She's very sweet, intelligent, and (contrary to popular belief) not as innocent as the game (or Varric) wants us to believe.

Which is why I absolutely despise how the game handles the romance with her.

Throughout the romance (and I'm not even getting into the rivalmance), there is a very clear power dynamic: Merrill idolises Hawke, and they do not seem to be on even ground at all.

During Merrill's quest in Act 3, Varric approaches a romanced Merrill in her home; he asks something along the lines of what Merrill is doing there, and if Hawke even knows she's there. Merrill (rightfully) points out that she doesn't need Hawke's permission to go to her own home. Additionally, after Merrill's clan either banishes her or is destroyed, Merrill has a conversation with Hawke back at her home; she asks Hawke what she should do now that she can't go back to her clan. The other options are along the lines of "It's up to you" and "Rebuild the alienage", but the romance option is something like "You can stay with me".

... Seriously? After Merrill has been through a traumatic experience and lost her entire family prior to Hawke's crew (however unsupportive that family was), now that she doesn't know where to go with her life and is looking for serious guidance, the first response her partner (who is already in a position of power over her) has, the response that locks in the romance, is "be with me"? Are you fucking kidding me? Especially when the other responses are "do what you want" and "help your people here instead". (I think what Hawke actually says is similar to "Whatever you do, we'll do it together", which isn't as bad, but still.)

All of this is to make it very clear that while I love Merrill, I LOATHE the Merrill romance. But, to a degree, I understand it. At least from Varric's point of view.

Varric is being interrogated by Cassandra, who is a Seeker (AKA, a highly advanced Templar). For a decade, Hawke's crew managed to keep Merrill under the Templars' radar; now Varric is being interrogated by a Seeker, most likely one who already knows a little about Merrill (we all know Cassandra reads some of Varric's books -- it's not too far-fetched to assume she would have read Tale of the Champion before the interrogation). Basically, a Seeker knows that Merrill was a blood mage and that she was in a relationship with Hawke (I would think that info is in Tale of the Champion; please correct me if I'm wrong).

So, what can Varric do to ensure that Merrill is safe and that no Templars will come after her? He makes the dynamic of Merrill and Hawke's relationship seem like Hawke was in control. For a non-romanced Merrill, he makes her seem perfectly innocent and sweet, like she could do no harm. Sort of like, "yes there was a blood mage but she was harmless and lovely and Hawke had her under control so you totally don't need to hunt her down."

Of course, I still think Merrill was very sweet and lovely and wonderful and all that, but I definitely also think that Varric exaggerated some of that so Cassandra wouldn't think Merrill posed any danger to the Chantry.

Simply put, I think Varric exaggerated the details of the Merrill romance and Merrill's innocence in order protect her from the Chantry and the Templars.

[not-poignant]

oooh i've never read an omegaverse fic where the omega's ability to self lubricate is damaged. (could that be classed as a disability in this universe?)

it's going to be very interesting discovering how/if that's worked around later in the fic.

all Efnisien expects is pain because it's familiar and he's so used to it and his needs have never been respected or accommodated for, so i think it would be so fascinating to see him experiencing being with someone who actually takes the extra time to find ways to do things so they don't hurt despite the physical limitations lol

(could that be classed as a disability in this universe?)

Absolutely! While I haven't tagged specifically with disability, I have used the tag chronic illness in this fic, and I definitely think all of Efnisien's issues certainly at the very least come under having a chronic illness (and disability).

And how that's dealt with later in the fic is definitely going to be part of the story! There's no miraculous fix here for sure. Efnisien not being able to properly make the hormone larentin also means he can't really have proper or healthy heats. We're going to eventually see what that looks like, and it's not going to be fun for anyone.

A lot of this fic is definitely going to be around acknowledging chronic illness, giving space for that (and way way more compassion than Efnisien's ever had in the past) and Efnisien sort of learning that he even has chronic illness/es because he doesn't realise yet. There things he thinks of as normal (for example his chronic stomach upsets) which are painful and not great, that he has yet to realise aren't something that should just go completely unsupported.

This is fic is also going to poke a fair bit at biological essentialism, but we're not quite there yet, but...that's where we're headed.

Because Efnisien struggles to even realise there's value in telling people when he's in pain sometimes, it's going to be a choppy journey, especially with those directive/s! It's going to help that Efnisien can talk about what happens to him at the centre though, and I'm glad they've finally at least got a shoulder brace on him. It's a tiny tiny start, lol.

It's also one of the reasons I didn't want Temsen in the story just yet. As the facility doctor, I think he's going to have some really useful and valuable suggestions re: Efnisien and Dr Gary, and I didn't want things to be that easy for them in the beginning ;)

[terubakudan]

My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness by Nagata Kabi - Book Review and Impressions

(light reflection) Perfect :D Hoping Tumblr doesn't flag me for this xD

Ok, I'm going to start this off with 'this is probably the first and only book review I'm going to do' xD Because I rarely do read books now, and just as rarely buy them. Also, I would have preferred to buy the English version but alas they only had the Chinese version in stock ^^"

Stumbling upon this on the Internet, I was immediately compelled to buy this, as if I knew I would love it and that Nagata's story would resonate with me.

【Short Version】 I can't recommend this book enough, it doesn't matter what sexuality you are or from what culture are you. Nagata makes sure to tell an honest and 'naked' (without embellishments) portrait of her own personal experiences. How she herself is a college drop-out (having only graduated from high school), pushed herself to live/work while struggling with depression and eating disorders, not being sure of what she wants and feeling that she doesn't 'deserve' things, realizing her own sexuality in that she likes girls, and just not feeling 'good enough'...all through her cutesy and unassuming art style.

I will say again though, cutesy art style aside, the book deals with some very heavy topics. Nagata is very honest and doesn't shy away from the gritty details, and I admire her all the more for doing so. Many yaoi and yuri comics often portray an unrealistic and fetishistic view of the LGBTQ+ community whereas Nagata's story is much more grounded and sincere. This is not an easy read, but it's not an overly depressive one either. Nagata literally struggled for years with her mental health, but ultimately found light on the other side. Not mainly through the help of others, but through her own choice to forgive and love herself.

5/5⭐ Definitely recommend and would read again. And if I could, I'd give Nagata a big hug and a heartfelt 'thank you' for sharing her story.

【Long Version】 While it's written primarily from an Asian (particularly Japanese) perspective, Nagata's experiences are ones that should resonate with anyone who has been through the same or similar things, regardless of one's personal background. And I myself, while being fortunate enough to not have gone through eating disorders or self harm, am no exception.

I grew up in an Asian (Taiwanese/Chinese Filipino) household, while my parents weren't Tiger Parents (no offense but fuck Amy Chua for thinking that's a proper way of raising your children), they still had certain expectations on their children: to find a good husband/wife, have a good education, have a 'stable' career, etc. And while I love my parents very much, I'd be lying if I said there weren't any times where I felt they were smothering me, there weren't any times where they kept on nagging and bugging me for very trivial details. My biggest pet peeve: guilt-tripping me just for wanting to spend time alone.

"For me, my parents' opinion of me is absolute." (NOTE: While I won't be providing exact translations of the excerpts I used here, I'll do my best to summarize the gist of them.)

At the same time, I cared very much about their opinion of me. I made it a point to do well in school, to do things according to their wishes, and just like Nagata, I didn't know what I wanted. This even extended to caring about others' opinion of me, more than my own. In my freshman year of college, I 'went along' with being friends with someone, who while was nice to me, turned out to be a manipulative bitch skilled in passive-aggressiveness xD Being half-Taiwanese/half-Filipino, it was hard to fit in since people always treated me differently, it didn't occur to me I could be choosy with friends, I thought as long as they were 'nice' to me, that would do.

Asian culture is largely a collective one, where we define ourselves by our relationships with others, compared with Western culture (primarily America, I'll be using America as a reference point) where individualism is absolute, where you define yourself as you like. In Asia, it's also normal for children to still live in the same house as their parents well into adulthood, compared with Americans who are expected to move out the house once they finish high school or start college, and they're quite literally 'on their own', having to pay their own tuition, rent, etc. Where I live (Taiwan), it's normal for adults to continue relying on their parents financially well until college. Nagata for instance, while saying her parents really make her feel so pressured, is grateful that she still had a home to stay in (and she's 28!).

If you ask me though, neither a collectivist culture or an individualist culture is absolutely good nor bad. Each have their own pros and cons, and both Asian culture and Western culture could learn a thing or two from each other.

After going through quite a few job applications, one of the interviewers tells her "Ganbatte!" (You can do it!) after Nagata tells her what she really wants is to be a manga artist.

And sometimes that's all we need really, a small gesture or kind remark can do wonders. Even if there's no base or reason for it, it's something worth believing in.

I often have doubts if I'm doing what I really want, if I chose the right major for college, if I'm doing the right thing, if I'm 'good enough'. I didn't grow up with much self-esteem as a kid, and often derived my value from others. But even at my lowest times, a 'you're doing ok' was very reassuring to me, be it from family, strangers, or people I care about. Sometimes that's exactly what we need, it may be small but it could be the difference between continuing to wallow in depression or re-evaluating and choosing to be better to oneself.

I find it's really important to know, that however alone you may feel sometimes, there are other people out there going through the exact same thing. It's something universal, and while a lot of things are really unfair in life, each person has their own lot or burden to deal with. I have a Taiwanese friend who, while being more financially well-off than me, has terrible parents. And I mean parents who are quite so literally toxic, unsupportive of her, and would outright say the worst things to their own daughter.

How depression and anxiety can feel sometimes, we can literally feel like it's impossible to breathe and be in a state of disconnection from the world.

"The sounds that invaded my ears occupied my empty brain, making me unable to think at all."

If you only did what your parents asked you to do, wouldn't days like those be very painful? In the end, only you can understand what you really want.

Nagata's art style is one I would describe as simple, cute, and effective. I personally think had her story been drawn in a more serious style, it would have been even harder to read, much less finish. It's also a choice that has artistic appeal to me, serious subject matter juxtaposed with a 'kawaii' art style.

Nagata also depicts very well her mental state and thoughts throughout her struggle and journey to self-actualization. Depression is a really tough thing to deal with, and sometimes we don't even realize that we have it or if we do, refuse to acknowledge it. In Asian cultures especially, mental health has always been something of a taboo subject and there is a very heavy social stigma associated with it. Nagata herself even said that her parents seemingly refused to acknowledge that their daughter's mental health was in a state of distress. In Japan, there is a concept called gaman (我慢), which is described as 'enduring the seemingly unbearable with patience and dignity', and while it is portrayed as an ideal virtue that inspires perseverance, it can be a source of heavy pressure for others. Gaman also means that you are expected to suppress whatever emotion or negative feelings you have, often for the sake of others and no matter how tough the situation becomes for you. And while I agree that through gaman you can become more selfless for others, it shouldn't have to come at the expense of your own well-being.

I was quite fortunate to have grown up in a more liberal Asian household, but even when it came to mental health, our family also adopted the same kind of attitude towards it, by carrying on as if nothing was wrong, or just not talking about it. And to be honest, there were numerous times I wished we had been more open about what was bothering ourselves at that time. Talking and being open about your feelings is not a 'weakness' but something incredibly brave to do, and it's my wish for that to slowly become more acceptable in Asian cultures, which I know is kind of a stretch, but it doesn't hurt to hope.

Nagata makes the decision to clean herself up, by taking a bath everyday, habitually exercising, and no longer wearing worn-out clothes.

Depression especially can be a bitch. It deprives you even of your physiological needs, like your need for food. Nagata had to struggle with that on top of eating disorders for a long ten years. She ate so little and even felt that she didn't 'deserve' to eat, and at one point, anorexia became hyperphagia, and she would feel so guilty for eating almost expired/expired food. Things that would otherwise be simple to do also end up becoming difficult/impossible to do, like taking care of your personal hygiene, getting up from bed, doing simple tasks etc.

Thankfully, after Nagata realizes that she never truly 'valued herself', she starts to turn over a new leaf. Even just starting with cleaning herself up, she takes this as a form of 'valuing oneself' and her mood starts to improve, which her family also points out. In the end, taking care of yourself is not a selfish thing to do, it can even make you a better person who is there for others.

Nagata meets up with the female escort she hired, as a means to experience human sexuality, which she had always repressed her curiosity for and treated as a taboo subject. (NOTE: And I'm glad that she met a really nice girl for her first time too!)

Sex and sexuality is also a subject that I feel is hard to talk about sometimes, which I think also owes itself to most Asian cultures being relatively conservative about it. I myself have only recently identified as bisexual, which I attribute to internalized homophobia, not wanting to admit I was into girls too. And to be honest, 'coming out' is something I'm still uncomfortable about, because I don't want to risk my relationship with my family and it's still something I would choose to be selective about with colleagues and friends. I'm grateful though that as crazy the Internet can be sometimes, it can be quite accepting and tolerant towards things that we wouldn't otherwise discuss with even the closest people in our circle. Nagata's memoir ended up capturing the hearts of many readers ever since she first published it on Pixiv.

Exploring your sexuality doesn't have to be scary, it should be something exciting and liberating. Nagata decided to take matters into her own hands, and while the days leading up to the encounter made her really nervous and she even considered not going through with it at all, she willed herself to continue, because she wanted to do this for herself, it would be pointless if she gave up after coming so far in her decision to value herself.

And it's these series of actions that she decided to do that ultimately led to her life turning out for the better, it gave her the courage to do what she always wanted: to be a manga artist, which lead to the publishing of this autobiographical memoir, something she wanted to create that would 'make people want to buy this book' and from her own preference for reading stories that 'speak of secrets people wouldn't want to tell others'.

Nagata mentions what she calls 'honey': something that varies from person to person. It could be your reason for living, that thing that drives/pushes you, or even your sense of belonging. It may not be something permanent, but you can always find yourself a new one. (she mentions the last time she had her 'honey' was during her high school days, and while she has grown apart from the friends she made, she has found her new 'honey' in the form of being a full-time manga artist.)

Nagata stumbles and trips a lot on her way to being a better version of herself, but who doesn't? She admits to things not necessarily being smooth, but at least she's doing better than before. And it's that decision to at least try that counts. We don't have to be perfect, we're all human after all.

TL;DR My Lesbian Experience With Loneliness is a honest, down-to-earth, and ultimately hopeful memoir about the struggles of mental health and learning about one's sexuality. It's an amazing book, and very much worth the buy.

A big thank you if you read through all of this too. I know it's a mess and writing isn't exactly my strong point, but hopefully I've convinced some people out there to give this book a read! Please feel free to share your thoughts and I'd appreciate it very much too if you reblog/like this post.

[fairycosmos]

tried telling my best friend i might be trans and want top surgery and their response was “your boobs are too big” like ok… thanks. it’s shocking how unsupportive people are… like they’ll say they’re in full support of lgbtq+ and then someone close to them tries coming out as trans and they want nothing to do with that lol. it’s so fucking lonely- like i even brought it up with my therapist and how it’s been bothering me and they told me to just ignore it. how? and why? it’s just so lonely when you try to be you. no one in your life cares or wants to care. like, fine… i’ll just live life to my fullest discomfort 👍

god ur friend can simply choke. i really can't fathom what would make them say that or why they thought that was an appropriate response at ALL??? i'm really sorry you were let down by someone so close to you like that, especially in such a vulnerable moment - i'm proud of you for trying to talk to them in the first place, even if it didn't work out the way it should have. i know that must've been really hard. and your therapist can fuck off too??? that's an absolutely ridiculous response to a client trying to bring up such an important and personal thing like WHAT. i know this might seem drastic and it's much easier said than done, but if they're not willing to let u talk about this with them then i really would encourage you to look for a different professional because they're clearly not meeting your needs at all. and you deserve to be listened to, and you deserve to have ur identity acknowledged and validated, and you deserve to have your needs fulfilled. bottom line. it's not asking for too much, in fact it's bare minimum. and the fact that the people around you are being this weird about it says everything about how they live their lives - but nothing about how you need to live yours. i appreciate that it is very easy for an outsider to something like that and i'm not saying you have to cut anyone off or change things drastically overnight, i just want to stress that your life is still yours. that there is a future that exists in which you can be trans and happy/content, with a support network that encourages you to be who you are. obviously i've never been in your shoes before and so my perspective is very limited, so i was wondering how you feel about calling a trans hotline or looking into lgbt resources in ur area (if it's safe to do so and if there are any?). support groups, counselling, things like that. online even. i know it's not going to make up for the pain of having those you trust hurt you like this, but i do think it'd be good to try to connect with others who have been where you are and who get it. maybe it'll make it just a little less lonely, to open up, especially in terms of finding a better therapist. even if it takes a while to really get the ball rolling with any of this, i think it's all so possible for you. seriously. i'm rooting for you and i honestly believe there is a version of you waiting that is not defined by discomfort or repression. by shitty friends or counsellors. even if it takes ur whole life to fully meet that self, they can and will exist. sending you a huge hug, please take care.

[dreams-of-wings]

Daughter of the Devil

Imagine: Being Hades Daughter and meeting Carlos for the first time.

Small warning: So from rewatching D3 about 5 times I realized while I was writing this that Hades never actually used his powers on the Island, nor does the Ember actually glow either till it gets past the barrier - even though the promos that showed Hades in his hideout did in fact have him burst into flames. So for the sake of my sanity, let's say the barrier effects him a little differently because he is infact a god so I would like to think that the majority if not all of his powers do not come from magic, but also for the sake of him not being OP - it does hold him back like a lot.

It was a stupid move, Carlos would admit that. Some punks managed to corner him and hustled him for anything valuable he had on him. They let him go after they took his shoes, a couple nice shiny things he managed to snag, and the jacket off his back, but they said something and he just got so angry. He mouthed off to them and now he was running for his life, ducking weaving, jumping over obstacles. He was scared to look back, worried that if he did it would just allow his pursuers to catch up faster. He huffed, and wheezed as he ran through the tarnished, dirty alleyways of the Isle - knocking over a few garbage cans and unsupported stands. He hadn't noticed he was running out of things to help protect himself till he frantically looked from side to side and noticed there was nothing, and no one he could use as a shield. He went for the only thing he could - an old abandoned warehouse. Maybe he could find something there he could hide in.

Carlos could see the silhouettes of the thugs chasing after him, and he stumbled to quickly open the large sliding metal doors before turning around and closing them behind him in a desperate attempt to put up a barrier between him and them. When he turned around his blood ran cold, and his face paled. There was absolutely nothing here for him, no where to hide, nothing to defend himself with - just some large support columns and beams that were sturdy enough to keep the building standing for a few more years. There was an old red, rusted, metal staircase at the back but he couldn't see what it lead to since the top was covered by thick plastic and tattered cloth.

Carlos gasped when he heard the large door rattle from behind him, and he jumped back a few steps, almost falling onto his rear end from lack of coordination.

"We know you're in there twerp!"

Those kids were messing with him. Rattling the door and banging on it just to scare him.

"Go away!" Carlos screamed at the door, half knowing it was a pathetic attempt at getting the bullies to back of. He really did fall back when the steel door flew open, "No, no, no!"

"Just who do you think you are?!" The one who was obviously the leader of the group stomped a few steps forward. He was large, granted Carlos was pretty small compared to most of the kids his age. The salt and pepper haird boy panicked and tried to crawl back and away from the approaching group, "I'm sorry!"

"Yeah, your gonna' be!" The stocky boy to the right baited Carlos, moving toward him like he was going to lunge and causing him to flinch.

"I already gave you everything I had!"

The three larger boys were about to go for him when they heard an unfamiliar voice, "Hello?"

Carlos hadn't heard the voice over the sound of his own rapidly beating heart and labored breaths. However, the lack of punching and kicking got his attention, and he quieted long enough to hear the sound of metal 'thumps' and creaking under footsteps. He risked a peak through his arms towards the staircase he had seen earlier and saw what looked like a little girl with long, wild, vivid blue ombre hair. She wore tattered cloths and a well worn denim jacket that was definitely a few sizes too big for her. Before he knew it, Carlos had unfurled himself from the fetal position and now laid flat on his stomach on the cold cement.

"What's going on?" You stood at the bottom of the stairs, head tilted slightly to the right in confusion.

"None of your business," the leader of the thugs spoke up.

"Well you're in my house, so that makes it my business," you were quick to snap back. You had a short temper, just like your father.

Carlos' mouth dropped open, you looked like a harmless little girl, but your attitude seemed to suggest that you could handle yourself.

"We're just trying to get back what this twerp took from us!" The slightly lankier thug who had remained silent till now spoke up, and the stocky one backed him up, "Yeah, and he thought he could hide here so we followed him."

"Really?"

"Yeah," the leader smirked. Maybe they could get you on their side, then they could add getting beat up by a girl to the list of things they pick on Carlos for, "So you see, he's the one really trespassing. We're just trying to make sure he pay's for it."

Carlos swallowed thickly, looking back and forth between both sides as the exchange happened and he frantically shook his head, "N-no!"

"Cause it doesn't really look like he has much on him," the curious look on your face contorted into an angry frown - with your brows furrowing and your previously wide-eyed gaze turning sharp. The three thugs felt a chill go up their spine, as did Carlos.

"Look, girly," the leader took one step back as you took one forward, "If you're not going to help then beat it!"

"Who are you to tell me to leave?!" Your long tresses bursted into blue flames that extended down your arms. All four of them flinched back slightly both from fear and shock. How did you have magic on the Isle?

"This is my house," you took a couple more steps forward, "You don't have a say in what I do!"

Carlos practically lept to the side and out of your path as you continued your way towards the three burly boys, causing them to stumble back before they practically tripped over eachother to get to the warehouse entrance. Never had you heard such large boys produce such shrill screams.

"You're gonna' regret this!" The largest one had the nerve to turn around once he had crossed the entrance threshold and shake his fist at you.

"Try me." You watched them as they disappeared from sight through the alleyway they came from, all while your flames slowly died down to nothing. You almost forgot Carlos was there till you heard a quiet 'thump', and you whipped around. He had been trying to get up, but in his haste to leave before you could see him he slipped on a damp spot of old oil mixed with water. Carlos flinched when you turned to look at him, but quickly averted his gaze to the ground, "S-sorry," his voice was small, "I didn't mean to trespass."

You quickly made your way to him, causing him to flinch as you rapidly closed the already small distance between you and him, and for a second he cowered- afraid of what you would do to him with your flames. A moment passed, and when he felt no kicks, punches, slaps, or searing flames he looked up, eyes immediately landing on your extended hand.

He sat there for a good few seconds, mouth agape in awe. Were you helping him? His brows furrowed in confusion before he dragged his gaze upward, "What do you get out of it?"

"I was hoping a friend."

What?

"A friend?" Now he was definitely confused. No one on this island tries to make friends, just allies -if you can even call them that- relationships where both parties benefit, and there was no way you thought you could possibly benefit from having him as a "friend", right?

Before he knew it you crouched down to his level and gently took a hold of his hand - his still open mouth snapping shut at the action before he allowed you to pull him up. You took this as more of a 'yes' rather than a 'you know what you're right, I should at least get off the floor', and proceeded to drag him towards the red staircase, "C'mon!'

Carlos was still trying to process whether or not this was actually happening, and it nearly made him trip over the steps as you lead him to the top, "Hold on!" The platform the metal stairs led to was surrounded by those thick plastic bags and tattered fabric he had noted earlier, but now he would see that they hung and were tied to some lower beams - effectively shutting the world out. He didn't really have time to inspect any further as he was pulled through some makeshift curtains, and into a room that must have previously been some sort of office.

An old desk laid against the wall to the left, decaying wooden book shelves were huddled and grouped to the far right, and any other mesilanious items that would make an office an office lined the walls - all to make room for the mountain of torn blankets and patchy pillows that were in the center. How long had you been staying here? It was normally hard for kids yours and his age to keep a mildly decent place like this, usually the older residents of the island would have chased off anyone else from a place like this.

"Sit, sit!" Carlos was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of your voice. He glanced around the room one last time before cautiously making his way to the pile of fabric at the center of the room and sitting, watching as you walked over to the fallen over desk.

You shoved off the large piece of damp old wood that you had haphazardly thrown over the opening where someone would normally put their legs, and pulled out a black garbage bag. Carlos' brows furrowed as he watched you struggle with it for a moment, and he was about to go help you move it when you finally managed to pull it out of your little hiding spot before dragging it over to him.

What was in it? Stolen knickknacks? A dead body? Several dead bodies?

The trash bag rustled as you opened it.

Food?!

Carlos forgot his manners for a moment and snagged the loaf of bread that was at the top of the pile. He briefly wondered how you were able to get such a nice looking piece of bread till he turned it over and noticed it was burnt. Oh. Still pretty good though as far as Isle of the Lost quality is concerned. He rubbed off the chard flakes that created a shell over the bread, tore away the inedible portion, and was about to take a bite out of it when he paused and looked at you.

"Sorry," Carlos moved to hand the bread back to you, but you shook your head and sat down cross legged.

"Eat," you lightly pushed the bread back over to him.

He looked concerned for a moment, looking down at the loaf of bread before breaking it in half as best he could, and handed you the slightly large piece. You smiled and happily took it, placing it on your lap before rummaging through the bag.

The bag was full of food. Mostly canned goods that were past their expiration date - but that was the good thing about most canned food: they had a long shelf life and should be fine so long as they're sealed properly. You saw what you had been looking for and smiled with glee as you pulled it out. A quarter wheel of cheese. It had a bit of green mold beginning to grow on the corner, but you simply broke up that bit and tossed it to the side to let it be forgotten. Such a waist of food - figures those Auradon pansies wouldn't know that cheese wheels are dense enough to allow you to break off molded pieces and still have it be edible. Or perhaps they did know, but threw it out anyways because it wouldn't fit their 5 star standards.

You break the cheese in half and pass one half to the frost haired boy before you.

"I dont even know who you are..." Carlos felt a bit guilty. Maybe he shouldn't be taking your food. So far it seemed like you had no one, while he still had a mom to go home to. Sure she was terrible. But parenteral issues weren't exactly rare on the island. Still though, here you were- living in an old abandoned warehouse, sleeping on a pile of old, torn, smelly blankets, and scavenging for something to eat that wouldn't give you food poisoning. Carlos had gotten lost in thought again, and hadn't realized you said something.

"Huh?"

You introduced yourself again, leaving out the part about how your father is Hades, the God of the Underworld before asking him what his name was.

"Carlos," he smiled, watching as you took a bite out of the bread before taking one out of the cheese. He took that as his cue to eat as well, "I don't think I've ever seen you around?" Which was odd because this was a small island and there really was nothing to do other than wander and steal.

"I keep to myself," you shrugged, "I stay in the places where their aren't very many people."

He nodded and continued to eat, causing a silence to fall over the both of you. How does one make friends?

"Do you get picked on a lot?"

Carlos was caught off guard by that question. He wanted to lie and say no, but something told him you would know it wasn't the truth, "Sometimes," now it was his turn to shrug, "but I try to keep my head down," he said through a full mouth, "keep to myself and avoid trouble. Trouble kinda seems to find me though..."

"Those guys were jerks who obviously have nothing better to do," you interjected.

"What else is there to do?" Most of the youth on the island spent their free time engaging in gang activity.

"Nap," you answered simply. It was you and your father's favorite pastime.

Carlos snorted at this, "Napping is for babies."

"Napping is for everyone," you defended, "Napping helps you grow." You paused to look out the window towards the back of the room, "Shoot!"

Carlos looked back as well and furrowed his brows in confusion. The sun must have been going down. It was hard to tell on the Isle of the Lost due to all the clouds, but the sky would turn a dreary, muggy, pinkish-orange color around sunset.

"What," he turned back to look at you, but you were already tying the plastic bag back up and stashing it back in the desk before quickly tossing your half of the food in his lap.

"I have to go, or my dad's gonna kill me!"

Wait so you did have you parents?

"Your dad?" He sounded confused. He thought you lived by yourself, he thought this was your home.

"It is my home."

Oh, did he say that outloud?

"My home away from home." You dragged the plywood back onto the desk to keep your stash of food hidden, " if it were up to my dad, I would never leave our home."

You patted off your clothes before making a beeline for the entrance to your little den.

"Wait!" Carlos staggered to his feet, almost dropping the cheese and bread as he stood and by the time he got his bearings he could hear you making your way quickly down the stairs, "Hold on!"

He ran for the doorway, food still in his arms, "What about your half?!" By the time he got to a point on the steps where he could see you, you were half way across the warehouse.

"Keep it!" You called without looking back. You could hear the squeaking of shoes with crappy grips accompanied by the rattling of metal mesh as Carlos tried his best to catch up to you, "Hey!"

You stopped when you were at the entrance to the warehouse and turned to look back at the boy, "What?"

"C-could I maybe stay here a while?" He looked down at the ground, glancing up at you for a brief second before returning his gaze to the cement floor - like he was ashamed of asking, "I'm worried those guys might be waiting for me on my route home."

"Sure!"

He quickly looked up at you, slightly gobsmacked. You nodded and smiled, opening the sliding door, exiting the building, and then closing it behind you before you headed home.

Once you were sure you were out of earshot you let out a giddy giggle, happy you may have made a new friend.

[dxmedstudent]

Do you know anyone who has failed a block of FY2? I've just found out that I failed my first block of FY2 (in A&E) and I'm devastated. Now I'm worried it will impact upon the rest of my career and I'll never be able to do a competitive specialty. I think the hardest part about it is that my supervisor said there are no concerns about my clinical skills/ knowledge, just that I lack confidence in decision making, but failing the block has knocked my confidence even more.

Hello! I do, actually. They’re now starting an FY3 and about to have the time of their lives.  In their case, getting through uni and FY1 and FY2 has been a challenge, and I’m so, so so proud of how far they’ve come. I’m really sorry that you’ve had difficulty with FY training, I wish I could give you a hug and a hot drink of your choice. It’s completely understandable that failing a placement has upset you; it’s a scary situation in which people usually feel unsupported, let down by their placement, and unsure where to go from there. It’s worth talking to your academic supervisor (particularly if they aren’t the one who failed you) and your foundation lead if you can. Find out what they can do to help you. I think that their verdict was a bit harsh; at your level, it’s far more important to have an awareness of your limitations (for some reason I always ranked really high in this)  and know when you need support, because you don’t want to be overconfident and make decisions you don’t have the experience or knowledge to back up. It’s frequent for FY trainees to need some support. A lot of people feel a bit terrified, and A&E is probably the scariest rotation as an FY2 (you don’t even have it in FY1 usually), and frankly I’ve stayed away from it but I can see that it’s fast paced, pressurised, and decisions are often made quickly. I can completely see why you or many FY2s would find it stressful and not feel confident. And it’s a shame that it doesn’t sound that they raises this with you first; I do feel that people should discuss issues they have with trainees at an earlier time so they can address things together; just raising it at the end doesn’t give you support or time to do something about it. Are you OK, anon? I hope that you have the time and support to look after yourself and get yourself back to where you could be. I want you to remember that you come first. Before medicine. Before training. Before applying to specialities. You are the most important thing here, and you have a right to all the time and support you may need. I hope you know you are loved, and important, and you deserve your place in medicine, whatever happens. You’ve gotten so far, and you’re capable. Sometimes people just need more time or support to get to where they need to go. Having trouble isn’t always talked about, but it’s not uncommon in the NHS. I know lots of people who’ve had to work less than full time. Things happen. The way that training works is fast-paced, pressurised and relatively unsupported; we’re expected to independently jump through a million hoops to pass to the next stage, on top of actually doing the doctoring (which is stressful enough as it is!), and sometimes people struggle, or need help, or need more time. It’s not just you, this happens to lots of people. I absolutely recommend the Tea and Empathy group on Facebook for support (or, uh, Whiskey and Apathy if you’re less touchy feely and like to rant)Don’t worry about competitive specialities; the only specialities that matter are the ones you want to apply to eventually. And their criteria are straightforward; Pass FY1 and FY2 eventually, entrance exam result (if they have an exam), publications, audits, posters, etc, previous degrees. i.e things that have nothing to do with your state of health or if you needed some extra support or time.  And no, you don’t need to have ALL of the above to be considered. And plenty of people who don’t get in the first time take some time as a clinical fellow/staff grade and just reapply after they’ve bulked up their CV. If they never took anyone who had personal issues, or mental health issues, or needed some support or time out, they’d be hiring almost nobody. If you take time, deal with any problems you are going through, get help and finish your foundation training, there’s no reason why they would not consider you for different training options. They can’t discriminate on the grounds of health, including mental health. Once you pass, you’ll still get a certificate, so they may not even know that you initially struggled, but if they do, it should only be so they can support your training and make sure you get more support if needed. Just do your best, look after yourself, and you will deal with applications when you get there.  Good luck, and let me know how you get on.

[samwinchestermeta]

Where exactly does this idea of Sam being arrogant come from?! At least with the accusation of being "selfish" I can pinpoint the scenes in which some people must have either wildly misinterpreted Sam's motivations or took the other character's hurt feelings/perspective (probably Dean's) at face value and concluded selfishness without looking any further but ... arrogant?!! o_O Where?!! No, really ... where does that even come from?! Seriously, actually asking, cause I'm coming up empty here ...

I wish I knew, Anon. This answer comes only from my minimal experience withthese sorts of accusations and some guesswork.

I’ve seen some people call Sam arrogant because—well, because he’s smart,and because he’s not a wilting flower. If he thinks someone is wrong or their actionsare harmful to others, he’ll speak out. On occasion, when Dean uses incorrectlanguage or does something questionable, Sam will correct him with the acceptedterm or offer the patented Sam Winchester eye roll. This is not arrogance, but some people interpret it as such.

Some people call Sam arrogant because, while he loves his brother more than life itself and shows it allthe time in countless ways, he does not do what some portions of fandomthink he should and offer up effusive praise of Dean. Some people have a viewof Dean that is informed by widely-accepted (and unsupported) fanon rather than bycanon. They feel that Sam owes Dean some sort of reverence and franklyimpossible 24/7 support. 

A fair number have also bought into many of the wildfanon assumptions specifically about Dean’s life and upbringing which just aren’t supportedby actual canon. Just to offer a few examples… there are certain portions ofSPN fandom who believe…

 that Dean starved for Sam (not at all supported bycanon; the opposite is actually true and the evidence they use to back up theirclaims is cherry-picked at best), 

that Dean was abused physically by John while Sam wasnot and/or had a terrible childhood while Sam’s was privileged (not at all the case, and here’s some more on that topic–and some more)

That Sam has never shown gratefulness or love or care for his brother’s wellbeing (not so, and these are only a few of many examples, not even including the time he doomed himself to suffering and eventual, inevitable death by taking back his Hell memories just so he could wake up and be there for Dean)

and that Sam’s introversion and ineptitude with emotional expression means he doesn’t love Dean as much as Dean loves him (I can’t think of any meta right off the bat, but I think it’s pretty solid fact that a number of people who find Sam arrogant or selfish simply don’t register the emotional responses that are so apparent to me and many other viewers as genuine care. Even when he is in extraordinary mental or physical pain, Sam tends to think things out and express himself clearly, no matter how much turmoil he’s experiencing. Many people expect violent and destructive emotional outbursts–the kind Dean displays when he simply can’t hold himself together anymore–and they reason that since Sam’s expression of emotion is more subdued, his experience of those emotions is also either subdued or absent. As someone who expresses emotion much like Sam does, I can 100% guarantee you that is not the case, and it’s alarming to me that people assume so.)

Thanks to these assumptions, which many of them accept as fact, some viewers see Sam’s lack of effusive praise and gratefulness as arrogance and lack of feeling. It’s absolutely untrue, but it’s the only conclusion one can safely arrive at if one accepts the above assumptions as fact.

Finally, I suppose that some people assume Sam is arrogant because acknowledging that he isn’t infringes upon their interpretation of the show and its characters. I’m not saying this is common, and I’m not pointing my fingers at anyone, but there are some viewers who, (likely thanks to the culture on Tumblr and similar sites), need to believe their fav is flawless in order to justify liking him. If Dean is flawless, then Sam must be flawed. If Dean is selfless, then Sam must be selfish. If Dean is humble, Sam must be arrogant. If Dean is empathetic, then Sam must be apathetic (or even, memorably, a sociopath who performs but doesn’t feel emotion and uses Dean to get what he wants -__-).Dean, however, is a complex, deeply flawed character who has survived in a world where morality is muddled and survival demands sacrifice. In order to assume that Dean is flawless and solely a victim (but never an aggressor), such viewers have to jump through a number of hoops and radically reinterpret canon. Those interpretations often, if not always, cast Sam as a villain or arrogant, ungrateful child in contrast to Dean’s white knight. It is an unfair and inaccurate interpretation, but there ya go.

Understanding that my favorite character is flawed and broken and in need of help makes my viewing of the show more nuanced, but one thing I can’t even entertain is the idea that Sam is arrogant. He simply isn’t, and I have never seen any evidence to the contrary, especially since most of the “evidence” people offer is of times when Sam was literally high on some form of drug or mad with grief. 

[dandystones]

Yes means no.

***There are two parts to this long ass post because I didn't realise I had so much to say oops***

Setting boundaries, I recently learnt I've been terrible at that for most of my life.

I hate when people tell me what to do, to the point I'd do the exact opposite, but I always wanted validation. I sought it from everyone and their mothers because I never got it from myself.

The internet seems to talk a big game about how the universe will keep on sending you lessons in all it's glorious forms if we don't pick up on it; like how we always encounter the same toxic people and relationships, one after another.

It's funny when I recall them now.

***PART 1***

I like to think I've been very blessed when it came to friendship. All through my life, I've always felt that I made friends easily and had plenty of platonic support. However at different stages of my life, I've also noticed that despite all the good friends I surrounded myself with, I've always had that one person in my life who was just a little too self absorbed, borderline narcisstic and treaded way too close for comfort.

For reference, I'm going to list some people but not their whole names: my mum >> X >> O >> H >> C

The most coincidental thing I've come to realise is 1) that each person had a specific time in my life where they rose to prominence, or in other words, where they suffocated me the most 2) the end of each 'stage of prominence' was the start of the next. For example, when I thought I'd finally stepped out of my mum's narcissistic shadow, X stepped and morphed into that narcisstic figure until I'd decided it was time to cut ties. Around the same time, I met O and she slowly morphed into that person.

Continously, I realise I've always had that one presence in my life and each person would stay for many years until a breaking point, after which I would draw the line and keep my distance. As a rough estimate, I took about 25 years to understand that this exhausting cycle of going through toxic loved one after another is simply a lesson of setting boundaries.

I came to this realization in the past 6-12 months because I was having a particular hard time adjusting at work and it was really tough to master the art of stakeholder management. I won't say I'm an expert now, but I've gotten much better at putting my foot down and helping people to understand how their basic (read: brainless) actions are making my job unnecessarily difficult and defying my work ethics. I started to understand the importance of setting my own boundaries because we can never assume anyone would know them if we don't speak it.

Around the same time, I noticed the last person in this cycle, C had started to transition out of her role as the narcisstic shadow in my life entirely on her own. I've never had that happen to me without having to ruthlessly cut ties before. It's like something just clicked. On hindsight, the lesson just made sense and perhaps because I understand what it is now, there was no longer a need for the lesson to remain.

I always thought I was good at saying no to people, because I didn't care what they think which is true for the most part, I don't care what strangers think. What I came to realise about myself was that I needed help saying no to non strangers, people I care about, the people I need in my life.

***PART 2***

The word 'no' carried too much grief and associated history with abuse and neglect. My parents never made it easy for me growing up; affection was a competition between myself and both my younger sisters. My father could never find balance at work, so he overcompensated by trying to take control of everything at home. Nothing I said nor did could ever please him, he was always angry about the tiniest thing.

Everything was someone else's fault; between denying me any help with school work because I didn't go to a school of his choice and completely beating my self esteem down because I dare ask him for any help to a seemingly insignificant act like him accidentally stepping on my toes at the supermarket, he would twist and mold all my words until they made him looked like a hero in his own fantasy, that I was beneath him, and that everything bad that happened in his life was my fault and no one else's.

You couldn't fight him with reason even if you tried to, because he wasn't fighting for anything, he just wanted to win and he would say anything to wear you down. Every night would end in the same way, a disgustingly heated verbal mess between him, myself and my mom; abuse of any kind is simply the cheap power you get when you destroy people for the sake of your ego.

My mum was completely helpless in that regard, she stayed the hell out of his way whenever he had an outburst, even if it meant leaving me to fend for myself. I refused to back down from the injustice and his words dug its claws deeper in my gut, every quarrel we had made me sick with anger because no matter how hard I tried to defend myself, every takeaway was how each of his mistakes were the result of my failures even if it had nothing to do with it.

This went on for years. I knew I couldn't run away because I was underage, financially unstable and still needed a roof above my head. I felt absolutely helpless and remember crying myself to sleep all the time, praying to God to take me away - away from here, away from being the family's punching bag, away to another universe where parents actually protected their children, built them up and supported them.

Growing up in an environment where your survival thrived from avoiding all the stressors that could result in rage meant that I became extremely cautious in expressing my needs and opinions out of a fear of of displeasing my parents. Every subsequent outburst was a slap in the face, a painful reminder of how abandoned and unsupported I was in this family.

This led to a series of bad behaviors where I was desperate to please and longed for a life devoid of rejection. For the parts of myself who had endured so much neglect, I just couldn't bare the same devastation over again. Putting myself second and others first was easy as long as they were happy. I had this belief that if I accidently let myself be honest, people wouldn't accept me and I couldn't risk letting my guard down again.

Over time, I started saying yes to everything I wanted to say no to. Yes means no, no came with a '... but I'll do this for you instead' to overcompensate my fear. Slowly but surely, I became exhausted from pleasing people all the time. I said yes to social events I didn't care to be at, I patiently listened to every word of every person who needed me even if they didn't care to be there for me, I helped every toxic person who saw an opportunity to exploit my time and kindness. Without realizing, I was unnecessarily deriving a form of validation from being a yes-girl, I didn't know how to say no. Beyond that I'd lost my sense of self because I didn't know if anyone would care about me if I stopped doing all these things.

This obviously manifested in many unhealthy coping mechanisms and constantly wanting to be alone because I felt that everyone around me wanted something from me I couldn't give. It became a toxic cycle of self harm, feeling absolutely hopeless and finding sick joy in dreaming about the many different ways to end my life. At age 17, I've never felt more alone.

Ive had to see a counsellor for prolonged periods of my life and thisemotional abuse was one of the key moments that contributed to it.

Recovery was one hella of a slippery slope and had relapsed so many times I've lost count. I was convinced my abuse had rewired my body's ability to understand what love was, all I felt was the fire of resentment, burning my insides with the anxiety of having to live out the rest of my life in a bubble of 'my mistakes'.

Through my counsellor, we had to un-learnt the act of being too harsh of myself, as a result of the years I spent projecting my dad's expectations on myself. Rewiring your brain to calm itself down when you're triggered is difficult but not impossible. There were many scenarios where I became aware of the fact that the voice in my head mimicked my dad's in giving all but bone crushing criticism, guilt tripping my every move and spiralling myself into depression again.

Re-learning the notion of 'giving myself to others' whilst being 'unapologetically myself' was interesting and refreshing. Mostly, my subconscious got better at unlearning the act of constantly censoring myself for the sake of others; how to live freely & become a more honest version of myself regardless of the people around me. Not in any manner that might be of harm to others though, just in a way that allows me to stop relying on other people’s validation to keep my spirits lifted.

Every relapse back then sunk me into my depression, harder. Looking back now, I'm glad I didn't give up even though the chance was present and tempting every step of the way. Everyday still feels like a challenge, but I get it now when people say it gets easier

[queercapwriting]

If you had a moment, could we see Maggie/Alex reaching out to find their own support when the other is going through a rough patch, please? My girlfriend's struggling with depression a lot and I'm getting there with the whole support-her-but-still-look-after-myself thing, but it's a struggle because I'm really not good at asking for help. Thanks in advance, Mum! :)

Maggie’s used to taking care of people.

She’s used to it because it’s really all she ever does.

She overempathizes – she always has – but not deep, not hard, not desperate.

Because what she told Alex is true: there aren’t a lot of people that she cares about. Like, really cares about.

Abstractly, she cares about everybody. It’s why she is who she is.

But personally, passionately?

She cares about Alex.

A lot.

So when Alex sinks into a deep depression after Jeremiah, after almost losing Kara again, again, again, and when Alex tries – hard – not to drink, and fails once, and fails again, and Maggie picks up the pieces, she’s happy to do it.

Happy to do it, because god, she loves her, she loves her, she loves her.

Which is precisely why it’s so hard to watch Alex gasp for breath, tears streaking down her face, apologizing, apologizing, apologizing, her words slurring and the kisses she tries to give her sloppy – kisses that Maggie doesn’t accept because “not like this, baby, not when you’re drunk” – tasting like whiskey.

Which is precisely why it’s so hard to watch Alex sit on the couch, remote in hand, bottle of club soda open next to her, eyes vacant, not moving, not doing anything but staring at god knows what on the television, for hours, hours, hours on end.

She and Kara develop shifts.

To be with her. To take care of her.

Because alone time is important.

But right now, for Alex, alone time is a bit dangerous.

It was going to be Maggie’s night – they were going to watch movies and cuddle.

But she watched a child nearly die in the field today, and she can’t, she can’t, she can’t, be even partially responsible for someone else’s mood, for taking care of someone right now.

She calls her, though, because she needs to make sure.

Needs to make sure Alex feels loved. Feels cared for. Feels adored.

Because she is, she is, she is.

“Hey babe, how you doing?”

“Bored. I want an invasion or an explosion or something.”

Maggie grins and shakes her head faintly. “You’re in a league of your own, Danvers. Listen, I was thinking about tonight – would it be okay if I duck out of movies and Kara comes over instead? I had a rough case today, and I kind of just wanted to blow of some steam and lose my cool a little bit – “

“No, no, of course. Kara’s here right now, I – hey, wanna do a movie tonight?”

Maggie pulls the phone away from her ear at the sound of Kara’s excited squeal. There’s shuffling and static and then Kara’s voice takes over from Alex’s.

“Hey Maggie! I have just the musical in mind for me and Alex to watch! But um…”

Maggie hears footsteps, and Kara is clearly walking rapidly away from her sister.

“Are you okay?”

Maggie sighs. “Yeah, Little Danvers, I just… I need to take care of myself a bit, I need – “

“Yeah. Yeah, of course Maggie, whatever you need. Should I send Winn and James over to your place with boxing gloves and beer?”

She’s ready to say no.

No because she already feels horrible – like she’s abandoning Alex, pawning her off onto Kara, like she’s being a terrible girlfriend, like she’s being unsupportive and insensitive and a general, all around selfish asshole – by canceling their date, but she can barely breathe because her own depression is so strong, she can barely fight the gravity pulling at her chest because the weight of her own hurt is so heavy.

But Kara would die to protect Alex.

Hell, Kara has none of Alex’s ruthlessness, but she would kill to protect Alex.

And Kara isn’t angry. Kara isn’t calling Maggie selfish and accusing her of abandoning her sister.

Instead, Kara is offering to send in the cavalry to make sure that Maggie, too, is getting what she needs.

And the idea of Winn with boxing gloves really is hilarious.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay, ask them. Please.”

“Great! Okay, let me give you back to Alex – “

“Little Danvers – thank you.”

“Thank you, Maggie. I’m proud of you. Here’s your girl.”

“Hey.”

“Hey beautiful. I’m sorry – I think Kara’s gonna make you watch another musical.”

“Pfft. That’s what she thinks.”

“Al.”

“Maggie?”

“You know I love you, right, babe? And you know I’m so proud of you for how strong you’re being, with everything that’s going on?”

There’s a long silence, and she thinks she hears Alex sniffle.

“I love you too, Mags. Have a good time unwinding with the boys tonight, okay? Maybe we can get breakfast in the morning?”

“I’d love that.”

And, in the morning, she does.

But she also winds up loving her night.

Because James and Winn don’t ask questions when they come over.

Winn has pizza and beer, and James has a gym bag, and he admires the heavy bag Maggie has set up in the corner of her studio while Winn bustles through her kitchen grabbing plates and tugging through drawers for her bottle openers.

They don’t talk about anything real until James and Maggie have finally taught Winn to throw a proper punch, Maggie showing him how to align his fist, James helping him rotate his hips properly.

Winn begs for a break – “I finally did it right! Gotta go off on a high, right?” and collapses onto her couch with a slice and a bottle in his hands. He watches Maggie wrap her wrists, James steady the bag, and Maggie dig into it with perfect form, with perfectly dispassionate passion.

Of course Alex is in love with her.

Winn cheers her on around mouthfuls of pizza and gulps of beer and she grins and punches harder.

But her punches become less about form and more about rage after a while, and James and Winn exchange glances. Winn changes tactics.

“So how’s she doing? Your woman?” he in between Maggie’s blows and James’s soft encouragement.

Maggie freezes and James gently reminds her to relax her shoulders, and her nearly clips the side of his face with the force of her next punch.

“Not great.”

Jab, jab. Uppercut.

“I mean, of course she’s great. She’s amazing. I just… It’s never hurt me this much.”

Jab. Uppercut. Jab jab. Kick. Hook. Hook. Kick.

“What’s never hurt you this much?” James asks, eyes on Maggie’s, hands bracing the bag.

She slams into it until she can’t anymore.

“I love her. I love her. I love her like I’ve never loved anyone, and watching her hurt? It… it makes me want to… to murder people, you know, but… but sometimes there aren’t any people to murder, sometimes it’s just… brain chemistry or something, you know, and I can’t do anything about it, at all, so it’s helpless, I’m helpless, and I just… I love her. You know? I just love her so much.”

She rests her forehead on the bag for a moment, panting, sweating, staring at nothing in particular. At anything but James or Winn’s face.

The boys glance at each other, James with a soft smile on his face, because god, Alex has long deserved someone who loves her like this.

Winn swallows a gulp of pizza – he’d stopped chewing while Maggie was talking – and stares at her for a long moment.

“You know what makes everything better, Maggie?”

She grunts and halfway turns her face in his direction.

“Pizza.”

“You know I can still toss you in lockup for fun,” she deadpans, but she tugs off her wraps and grabs a slice, collapsing on the couch next to him anyway. James follows suit and settles on the floor in front of them.

“You know Lois almost died. A lot. When Lucy and I were together. Hazard of being Superman’s girlfriend, I guess. And Lucy would really get… well, down. She’d collapse in on herself, kind of like Alex tends to do.”

“It’s not a coincidence they’re both soldiers,” Winn chugs his beer, and Maggie toasts him silently, thoughtfully, with her own bottle.

“And it was hard. Watching her going through it, and feeling like I couldn’t do anything about it. But what you’re doing right now, Maggie? Taking a night to take care of yourself, to make sure you have the boundaries you need? Letting yourself acknowledge when you have your own tough day, and do what you need to do for yourself? That’s just as important as taking care of Alex directly, Maggie.”

“The man speaks the truth, Sawyer,” Winn chimes softly, and Maggie exhales slowly, softly.

“I’m not abandoning her?”

She keeps her voice steady and she keeps her voice invulnerable, but the question itself almost tears her throat on the way out anyway.

“No.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Anyway, Alex told me she’s going to make her watch Not Another Teen Movie.”

“Alex hates that movie,” Maggie’s brow furrows.

James grins. “Kara hates it more.”

“That’s… unexpected.”

“The Danvers girls are unpredictable,” Winn declares, and Maggie grins.

“And lovable. Super, super lovable.”

The boys both sigh with soft, resigned grins, and all three of them drink – deeply – at the same moment.

“Yep. Yep, they are.”