Depression is humiliating. It turns intelligent, kind people into zombies who can’t wash a dish or change their socks. It affects the ability to think clearly, to feel anything, to ascribe value to your children, your lifelong passions, your relative good fortune. It scoops out your normal healthy ability to cope with bad days and bad news, and replaces it with an unrecognizable sludge that finds no pleasure, no delight, no point in anything outside of bed. You alienate your friends because you can’t comport yourself socially, you risk your job because you can’t concentrate, you live in moderate squalor because you have no energy to stand up, let alone take out the garbage. You become pathetic and you know it. And you have no capacity to stop the downward plunge. You have no perspective, no emotional reserves, no faith that it will get better. So you feel guilty and ashamed of your inability to deal with life like a regular human, which exacerbates the depression and the isolation.
Depression is humiliating.
If you’ve never been depressed, thank your lucky stars and back off the folks who take a pill so they can make eye contact with the grocery store cashier. No one on earth would choose the nightmare of depression over an averagely turbulent normal life.
It’s not an incapacity to cope with day to day living in the modern world. It’s an incapacity to function. At all. If you and your loved ones have been spared, every blessing to you. If depression has taken root in you or your loved ones, every blessing to you, too.
Depression is humiliating.
No one chooses it. No one deserves it. It runs in families, it ruins families. You cannot imagine what it takes to feign normalcy, to show up to work, to make a dentist appointment, to pay bills, to walk your dog, to return library books on time, to keep enough toilet paper on hand, when you are exerting most of your capacity on trying not to kill yourself. Depression is real. Just because you’ve never had it doesn’t make it imaginary. Compassion is also real. And a depressed person may cling desperately to it until they are out of the woods and they may remember your compassion for the rest of their lives as a force greater than their depression. Have a heart. Judge not lest ye be judged.

Pearl (via psych-facts)

This is seriously the most accurate description of depression. Wow.

(via fake-that-smile-babe)

Dean/Cas fic: no salvation here (2k, nsfw)


post-9x17 fic: 2K, rough sex, pwp, nsfw

Inspired by one of dovahkiindean’s headcanon things; thusly, I am blaming her for all of this.

For my days pass away like smoke, and my bones burn like a furnace - Psalm 102:3


The Mark is a living thing on Dean’s arm, all heat and poison and teeth. It beats faster than his heart, throbbing when he’s trying to sleep, flaring up sharp and angry when he’s fighting, when he’s fucking, when Cas touches it, tracing his fingers over the rough, raised edges, digging his thumb into its scar-thick center.

"Don’t," Dean hisses, his dick twitching in his jeans, a jolt of white-hot need zagging through him like lightning. He tries to pull his arm away, but Cas is still faster than him, still stronger.

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Me, singing Cosmic Love at our concert. 


did i accidentally made a pentagram or something because YOURE HEREEEEE
did you miss me

i can only be summoned by blood sacrifice and vials of tony tears

(there’s an incantation, but you have to go look for it)

Took the job.

I will officially work at a museum doing really cool shit this summer. And will have a professional thing to put on my resume. People live on min wage all the time and I will be fine and my diet is already rice and beans anyway because that’s all my body can handle. 

So, good. Rachel, Museum Assistant. 

ETA: And, I don’t have to go back to Maine where my Aspie dad and doormat mom live to die a slow emotional and creative death. 


Shared 1 day ago + reblog
25 notes
# psa 

  • Me: I got a job.
  • Me: It's the museum one.
  • Me: It's min wage.
  • Mom: Why can't you just get a professional job?

No, I’m not dead, just losing my shit. 

No, Sins of Omission is not abandoned. Yes, it will be finished. 

Yes, I am about to graduate and fucking freaking out about it. 

Shared 5 days ago + reblog
16 notes
# PSA 

When I was a student at Cambridge I remember an anthropology professor holding up a picture of a bone with 28 incisions carved in it. “This is often considered to be man’s first attempt at a calendar,” she explained. She paused as we dutifully wrote this down. “My question to you is this – what man needs to mark 28 days? I would suggest to you that this is woman’s first attempt at a calendar.”
It was a moment that changed my life. In that second I stopped to question almost everything I had been taught about the past. How often had I overlooked women’s contributions? How often had I sped past them as I learned of male achievement and men’s place in the history books? Then I read Rosalind Miles’s book “The Women’s History of the World” (recently republished as “Who Cooked the Last Supper?”) and I knew I needed to look again. History is full of fabulous females who have been systematically ignored, forgotten or simply written out of the records. They’re not all saints, they’re not all geniuses, but they do deserve remembering.
— Sandi Toksvig, ‘Top 10 unsung heroines’ (via memereve)


Captain America!AU: Jensen as Cap and Jared as Bucky.

I’m reuploading these old artworks per request. They date back November 2011 (hence my style being a bit different) and I drew them for a LJ challenge called Spn_Cinema. (Photoshop CS + SAI)


the winter soldier.


the winter soldier.

Steve gets a frowny face on ethics.

– Adam, who is on Chapter 8 of Sins of Omission

(snorting about it tbh)

So I've been wondering, would you be interested in an awful fic prompt?

depends what the “awful fic prompt” is

"You're my best friend" "You're my target"