Insist Upon Your Cup Of Stars

To be fair to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, if I wrote some pulp short stories for a quick buck and an obsessive fandom sprung up around it at a time when fandom culture as we now know it didn't really exist yet, and I had to witness people being insane about my characters while having very little precedent for what the fuck was going on, I would also be confused and frightened and desperately trying to escape from the situation I'd ended up in.

do y’all remember usernames??? from back when every fuckin website didn’t need your email phone number home address social security number just to join/sign up for something?? when you could make website-specific accounts that weren’t linked to literally anything else??? they tried to boil us like a frog slowly switching to “username/email” and then just asking for your email. but I remember. I remember usernames.

having both anxiety and depression is like that post about washing your meds down with redbull. you’d like to think that the constant fear of failure caused by your anxiety would cancel out the lack of motivation you feel thanks to your depression, but no. they are both working so very much and you cannot stop it.

It’s the duck paddling on the water thing.  The mind is going 100 mph, the body is just sitting there.

Julian Bashir must have a bladder of steel bcuz if I got woken up in the middle of the night by some guy who wanted to talk intergalactic intrigue, I'd be like, 'sorry man but we gotta put this on hold for two minutes or I will be pissing this bed'

write this please

I am imagining that if Julian Bashir were to groggily interrupt Sloan to be like “brb, gotta piss”, Sloan would be like “not a problem” and then follow him into the refresher to continue talking.

i support women's wrongs