All you can do is the best you can do.

I don't know how people make these descriptions so pithy. American, 34, white, bi/pan, demi, in committed ltr, and I don't have many fandoms but the ones I do I do hard.
AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/users/bomberqueen17

Aug 27

threedollarwine:

crystalmethalicious:

I don’t think people realise how hard it is to re-discover the person you were before depression or even try to remember your own personality

and if you’ve had depression since early childhood you don’t even know if you have your own personality

you didn’t have time to be a person before depression

and it’s scary having no idea who you are

Which parts are my charming quirks and which parts are my crippling malfunctions? Who’s to say? Am I being true to myself, or am I massively self-sabotaged? Is my writing a symptom? It actually might be. Gosh. 

Is this a thing normal people worry about? 

(via drop-deaddream)


nestingcas:

me: i’m gonna write

me: [reads another person’s writing]

me: i’m never writing again

(via idrilka)


Aug 26

Let’s play a game!

foxberryblue:

Stand where you are, look around, and list whatever liquidy thing is closest to you. This is now your fanfic lube.

It’s actually a tie between the dregs of a mostly-finished gin and tonic and an actual bottle of lube, which is much more hilarious than the last fifteen times I saw this go by on my dash and wasn’t near anything remotely liquid other than my own viscera. … which, no. 

(via actualmenacebuckybarnes)


Is it possible to die from being annoyed


bomberqueen17:

Special Bonus Fic: It’s My Birthday And I Do What I Want Edition

I wrote this little vignette to take place somewhere way later in the continuity of the Post-CAWS fic I was working on; it was something I wrote on the side to get me through a grim patch of Bucky torture in the main storyline. 

And I was going to wait to post it until the story was at that point. 

But hell, it stands on its own, and I want to post it. So I am. 

Let’s Stay In Tonight, 3206 words, Mature, Steve Rogers POV, primarily Natasha/Bucky. (Implied Steve/Sam, or OT4, but Sam really just has a cameo in this bit.) Art, red lipstick, performance art(?), figure modeling, voyeurism, and so on. 

* * *

“I had this idea,” she said, and picked up a little bag from the couch next to her knee. Steve recognized it as her cosmetic bag. “Steve was talking about how the serum changed his vision because he’d been colorblind before.”

“Ohhhh,” Bucky said knowingly, “red lipstick.”

“Exactly,” Natasha said, pulling a tube out of the bag. It was an old-fashioned looking tube, too, not one of the modern ones with the weird applicator tips or things.

“I see where you’re going with this,” Steve said, and moved to take a picture as she took the cap off the tube and rolled the lipstick out. 

“Patience,” she said, flicking Steve a look, and that was a really good picture of her, looking mischievous under her lashes as she gestured with the lipstick tube. 

She put one hand on the side of Bucky’s face, holding him steady. “Open,” she said. She was holding the lipstick angled the wrong way— oh.

Oh,” Steve said, a shock of realization sparking something low in his spine. He remembered just in time to bring the camera back up. Bucky looked slightly stunned, and turned-on, and generally perfect as Natasha glided the lipstick across his lower lip. 

Shamelessly reblogging myself for the morning crowd because the theme of today is I Do What I Want.


(via hellotailor)


zohbugg:

Star Wars AU: Everything is the same, except R2-D2 doesn’t make beeps and whistles, and is instead voiced by Kayne West, who is given no script but is just reacting to all the crazy space shit going on around his little robot homie.

(via invisiblespork)


Special Bonus Fic: It’s My Birthday And I Do What I Want Edition

I wrote this little vignette to take place somewhere way later in the continuity of the Post-CAWS fic I was working on; it was something I wrote on the side to get me through a grim patch of Bucky torture in the main storyline. 

And I was going to wait to post it until the story was at that point. 

But hell, it stands on its own, and I want to post it. So I am. 

Let’s Stay In Tonight, 3206 words, Mature, Steve Rogers POV, primarily Natasha/Bucky. (Implied Steve/Sam, or OT4, but Sam really just has a cameo in this bit.) Art, red lipstick, performance art(?), figure modeling, voyeurism, and so on. 

* * *

“I had this idea,” she said, and picked up a little bag from the couch next to her knee. Steve recognized it as her cosmetic bag. “Steve was talking about how the serum changed his vision because he’d been colorblind before.”

“Ohhhh,” Bucky said knowingly, “red lipstick.”

“Exactly,” Natasha said, pulling a tube out of the bag. It was an old-fashioned looking tube, too, not one of the modern ones with the weird applicator tips or things.

“I see where you’re going with this,” Steve said, and moved to take a picture as she took the cap off the tube and rolled the lipstick out. 

“Patience,” she said, flicking Steve a look, and that was a really good picture of her, looking mischievous under her lashes as she gestured with the lipstick tube. 

She put one hand on the side of Bucky’s face, holding him steady. “Open,” she said. She was holding the lipstick angled the wrong way— oh.

Oh,” Steve said, a shock of realization sparking something low in his spine. He remembered just in time to bring the camera back up. Bucky looked slightly stunned, and turned-on, and generally perfect as Natasha glided the lipstick across his lower lip. 


Aug 25
“Until I started taking my antidepressants, though, I didn’t actually know that I was depressed. I thought the dark staticky corners were part of who I was. It was the same way I felt before I put on my first pair of glasses at age 14 and suddenly realized that trees weren’t green blobs but intricate filigrees of thousands of individual leaves; I hadn’t known, before, that I couldn’t see the leaves, because I didn’t realize that seeing leaves was a possibility at all. And it wasn’t until I started using tools to counterbalance my depression that I even realized there was depression there to need counterbalancing. I had no idea that not everyone felt the gravitational pull of nothingness, the ongoing, slow-as-molasses feeling of melting down into a lump of clay. I had no way of knowing that what I thought were just my ingrained bad habits — not being able to deposit checks on time, not replying to totally pleasant emails for long enough that friendships were ruined, having silent meltdowns over getting dressed in the morning, even not going to the bathroom despite really, really, really having to pee — weren’t actually my habits at all. They were the habits of depression, which whoa, holy shit, it turns out I had a raging case of.” Not Everyone Feels This Way — The Archipelago — Medium (via brutereason)

(via kat-rampant)


Reblog this if you can read a hand clock

vulgarweed:

askhumanitestitanlover:

image

just curious

You mean there are people over the age of 6 who can’t? That’s disturbing.

Actually the reason I finally figured out that I have a learning disorder is that I can’t. 

It’s called dyscalculia.

And yes, whatever method you can think of for learning how to read an analog clock, I’ve tried it. I turn 35 tomorrow. I know.


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