#shit sent me into a massive depressive spiral last time

[black-rose-irl]

Trying to explain to someone that this thing that they do for fun was actually like, really traumatic for you the last time you did it (and is pretty directly responsible for you ending up on antidepressants) and that the mere suggestion to do it again triggers your fight or flight response, is really something.

[memoirsofabasicbitch]

The thing is, I’m not entirely sure I remember how to dream. How to write. How to imagine anything independently of a world created by someone else, in their mind.

I’ve grown so used to hanging my dreams on what other people have created for me that I don’t know if that person is still in there.

That weird little girl, who peeled acorns for squirrels, and walked in circles over and over and over again on the roots of the big oak tree. She had a big imagination. She told herself all sorts of stories.

Was it just because I couldn’t play the other games? Too slow - reflexes and running. Too weak - climbing, throwing, running, playing.

(Or was it because I wasn’t allowed to — couldn’t — play those games? I have a few dim memories of trying to play and being sent away. They’re dim though. I stopped asking.)

Or was it simply that I was filling time? Waiting until I could go back into a world I could navigate a little better than the playground?

Sometimes, though, I was waiting. Hoping, really.

More than a few times.

A lot.

I hoped, I thought, maybe - maybe if I walk in the right way, I’ll hear the trees laughing, like Anne told Diana about. Maybe they’ll talk to me. Maybe a faerie will come creeping out from a little crevice and wave, winking. Maybe a squirrel will come crawling down the wrinkled bark while I watch, and take the little heap of acorn meat I’d left for him. Maybe there’s a tiny scrap of magic somewhere in the world that I just haven’t found yet.

I haven’t had dreams for a long time. That’s what happens when your dreams have expiration dates. I’ve already missed most of mine.

Never really even came close.

I had a “schedule” that makes me want to cry to think of it. Meet someone in college or shortly after. Get married by 25, so we would have a few years together after college. Have our first child by 27, because mom always said I should start having babies by 30 if I really wanted to have more than one and space them out.

I’m 28. I’ve never had a real relationship with anyone, romantic or platonic. I’ve never had a best friend who would place me on the same importance as I would them.

I have borderline personality disorder. I have adhd. I am on the autism spectrum. I have depression and anxiety so severe they cripple me. More than one of these things may be false. The symptoms are nearly indistinguishable once you have more than 2. No one will give me a straight answer, and no two doctors can agree.

Added onto years of emotional and mental abuse - which is what it was, wasn’t it. Maybe because I’m autistic, maybe it really was that bad. Neglect, sure. Public humiliation, that happened too, I’m pretty sure. Being told flat out that I was stupid and fat and ugly and I was lucky to have any friends at all so maybe I should just shut up and sit down before I ended up with none.

I’m pretty sure that happened. I don’t really remember it though. I don’t really have any memories at all.

Supposedly that’s something that happens with “complex post traumatic stress disorder,” which generally crops up when a person is systematically ground down for a long time until there is nothing left but the stories they told themselves when they tried to explain to the fake audience in their head who they were. How they got that way.

I don’t know who I was, who I could have been if I hadn’t had the life I did. Maybe my memories are skewed.

My therapist didn’t seem to think so, but she also sometimes seemed to think I was full of shit. That’s probably me reading too much into things again. That’s what I do.

Was it really that bad? I remember a lot of screaming, and crying, and hiding, and wishing I was dead or that someone would just hit me already so I would have something to say, to tell people other than “they yell at me and make me cry and sometimes they grab my arms and shake me and sometimes they tell me they’ll throw me out onto the street to fend for myself and sometimes they tell me they love me so much they’re so sorry and then sometimes they cry”.

But how much of that was me? How much was that my perception of things? Am I really that crazy, or have I really been gaslit that much? Is it gaslighting if they didn’t even realize how much pain they caused you, which is why they say “it wasn’t that bad stop exaggerating”?

Did I imagine all of it?

If I did, if I didn’t, what was real? What had the weight I felt it carry? What should have been a minor blip in my life but instead metastasized into a catastrophe?

I don’t know. Maybe I never knew. Reality hasn’t ever been my friend.

Fantasy is so much better.

It’s painful now, though. To read some of these stories, these books I used to adore.

Stories about Mature Adult Women of 25! Whole! Years! Going on adventures and meeting their soulmates and having wonderful happy lives.

I’m spiraling. It’s late. I’m tired and a little high, wishing I was higher and maybe I wouldn’t be so bored.

Bilbo was middle aged, wasn’t he? When he went on his adventure? He had an adventure, and then he came home and had a long, rich, happy, lonely, bitter life. Hmm. Perhaps the one ring is not the best foundation for a guiding principle.

I went to law school because I’d come to the end of every plan I actually had. (You don’t really plan for a future when you’ve been suicidal since before puberty.) I figured I’d get to read and write at least reasonably interesting things, make good money, maybe even make a difference.

I’ve been a paralegal for the same law firm I worked for right out of college for two years now and I have never felt more like a shambling corpse.

When I graduated from college, I couldn’t get a job. Could I have tried harder? Sure. Is executive dysfunction a bitch? You bet.

So I worked for a family friend’s law firm. Personal injury and medical malpractice. She’s the mother of my older sister’s oldest best friend and has employed all of my mother’s three daughters.

She’s also a heinous bitch and a terrible boss. Her employees have a shelf life of about 2 years. I’ve hit my expiration date. Once you’ve audibly cried during a phone conference, you’re really near the bottom. Once she decides you suck at your job, there’s no coming back. Either you quit or you get fired. She prefers when people quit so she can blame them and not feel guilty. So she just increasingly treats people worse and worse until they quit in self defense.

I worked for her for a year. It was awful. I became an alcoholic and gained 25+ lbs.

I decided to go to law school.

I moved to New Orleans.

I made friends. I had an apartment all to myself. I had a life I actually enjoyed.

Then I graduated.

And I couldn’t get a job again.

(Of course, all of this is underpinned with my cyclical periods of intense illness, often accompanied by being hospitalized and missing long periods of school. In college and in law school, actually.)

(All the cocaine and drinking didn’t help either.)

(Ah, New Orleans. How I miss thee.)

So I ended up at the same firm again. Living with my parents. Again.

Then I passed the bar.

Now I’m doing the same work as my younger sister, for the same amount of money. (When she graduated from her masters program and was unemployed for 6 months, I convinced my boss to hire my younger sister again, and my sister to work for my boss again after a semi-disastrous summer job.)

(To be fair, while I’m technically a licensed attorney, she has a masters in education, so it’s not like there’s a massive education disparity here.)

(It doesn’t help that I’m barred in a different jurisdiction than the one my firm typically works in, so there aren’t any cases I can really work on as an attorney, and then on top of that my bosses don’t want to pay for malpractice insurance for me so I’m not allowed to practice as an attorney or put that I’m an attorney or call myself an attorney or even put in my letterhead that I’m licensed in the District of Columbia.)

Then there was a pandemic, and I decided I probably shouldn’t try to make a huge life change during a pandemic.

The pandemic is still fucking here. Nearly. Two. Years. Later.

So I guess I have to make a new plan.

Can I be a lawyer? I guess we’ll see.

I don’t really want to, though. I’m burned out and I wasn’t even practicing.

I want to move to a beach and write a novel and actually have a life I enjoy.

The problems with this plan are numerous. Not only is inertia an incredibly powerful enemy of mine, but I’ve lost all imagination.

I cannot imagine a future in which I am happy. Will I kill myself? Probably not, at least not for a long while. I’ve thought too long and hard about the long-lasting, far-reaching repercussions it would have. (Say what I will about my family, at least it’s always been clear that my death is NOT an acceptable outcome.)

I want to find my imagination again. I want to be able to imagine not only a future in which I am happy, but other futures, other worlds. I want to be able to dream, not only for me, not only for reality, but for unreality. I want to create worlds in my mind again, and allow them to take whatever shapes they wish.

I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if all those horrible teachers, all those “peer editors” in fucking elementary school were right, and my story ideas are hackneyed and overwrought.

Wouldn’t it be nice, though, if they were wrong. Wouldn’t it be nice, to start writing, and to find that my imagination didn’t go so very far.

It’s been hiding in the intertwined branches of a birch grove, slim and tall and ringing with laughter. In the space between stars. Down the path shaded with wisteria and jasmine and honeysuckle, where the scent and the heat and the humidity are so thick you can feel the heavy perfume coating your lungs. Tucked away, safe, waiting to peek out. Waiting to creep down the wrinkled bark of a huge old oak and wink at the little girl playing among its roots.

I hope it is there. I hope I can find it.

I’ll keep you posted.

This is my own personal void to yell into, after all.

[pennswoodsman]

I’m at the Acme on Passyunk ave with my dad. I’m really struggling to keep my head up lately. I made the mistake of deciding to let my prescription for Zoloft run dry to see if I still need it. Clearly I do. This last week on several occasions I got triggered with something then fall into a crippling depression for the next few hours, sometimes until the next day.

I got a raise at work for the first time in 4 years. At first I was thrilled. Then I find out it’s because their minimum wage has increased and they had no choice but to raise it. So....I haven’t bothered to tell anyone. It doesn’t feel like a victory. In fact it depressed me knowing that I’m now just making the banks minimum wage, I went from being a supervisor to an aimless loser making shit wages...again.

A few days later I’m at the Amity park for an ice cream social with the boys. This is the first time I’ve been to this park in about 5 years. A sudden rush of memories of being happy with Dawn and socializing with other parents and their kids overcomes me. I find myself again re-living all of Dawn’s lies and the hurtful things she said and did in 2017 and 2018. I realized I was about to have a panic attack right there and then...while I was waiting in line for ice cream with the boys. I was trying so hard to be pleasant and strong for Kevin and Nate, but I felt that god awful nothingness in my chest and that feeling of about to tear up. Plus my teeth were sore from clenching my jaw so much. I drove home feeling exhausted. I felt a little better hanging out with the boys and watching a movie together.

Now it’s Thursday and I have a long shift. I am so depressed I can barely speak above a whisper. Everyone is annoying me. At one point a team member puts me on mute to talk to a customer and I start looking at naked chicks on Reddit. Without thinking about it I mutter to myself “man, that’s an edible vagina” to suddenly realize I said that while on mute, not on hold. I panic and hang up. It’s a recorded line and now I am wondering if it’s only a matter of time before they hear it and fire my ass.

That night, I had a series of nightmares. One was right when I first fell asleep. I was driving the Rogue by myself late at night. It was somewhere in Berks county. I felt really out of it, like I was drugged up on prescription meds or something. I accidentally drove up on the sidewalk and just stopped myself from crashing into a tree. I continued to drive even though I knew I was severely impaired. I was reversing to get back on the road and I ended up driving off the road again, this time going into the woods. My seatbelt was wrapped around my right arm, pinning it against my chest. I was trying to free it with my left hand but it kept slipping out of my fingers. I finally got it out but, right on queue, the car slide down a refine and off a cliff. I calmly watched the car plummeting toward the ground through the windshield. I said “goodbye world” and I knew that was it. I woke up with a jolt as the car was literally about to smash from 200 feet.

A couple of days later I was on Reddit again and a man who was in his 40s was asking a question in “dating over 40”. The man said he doesn’t have a good job, his mother pays his mortgage and grocery bills and is this a deal breaker for the ladies. Not that I was shocked by this, but I don’t recall a single woman saying anything but negative things. Saying why would anyone want a loser? Why would anyone want a man who can’t take care of himself? Etc. I sent him an encouraging message to not listen to them, shit happens and if you have a parent who can afford to help you it shouldn’t be the end of the world. I then suggested to not mention his mother pays his mortgage and other bills until a few months in so that way, she could get the know the “real you” and not pre judge you. Some random woman sent me a reply stating that not telling his dates right away is being manipulative. I honestly don’t agree. Since when do you discuss how you pay your mortgage and bills in the first few months of a relationship? I know I never have and would never ask. I said that and all she said was “look up manipulative in the dictionary”. It made me remember how Dawn claimed I was manipulative without even the seeing the slightest bit of irony in that accusation and it got me spiraling towards another panic attack.

Which brings me to today. I worked my Saturday shift, gathered as many family photos to bring to my dad’s house as my trunk would carry and headed out. I put on the “AskReddit” things to hear about entitled celebrities from the stage hands. Once that story is done it automatically went to “ladies what are examples of a man child?” By the first 5 minutes I was so depressed I could barely lift my head up. I am a fucking man child. My house is filthy, I have a shit job and my father pays my way through life. I have a brand new car which is normally a thing to be proud of but I find myself feeling shame that it wasn’t me who paid for it. I feel massive shame for almost being 46 and still dependent on my father. I feel massive shame for being 46 and still having no real career to speak of. For having this generous GF who deserves such a great man but sometimes I feel like she deserves better than I.

The thing is, it hasn’t even really been a bad week per se. Kristan got us SECOND ROW TICKETS FOR DEAD AND COMPANY!! She loves Jimmy Buffett, which is great because making the leap from Buffett to the Dead really isn’t that big of a change. Plus she has heard Scarlet Begonias live a ton of times and didn’t even realize it was originally a Dead song. Her birthday was last week and I wanted to send her some Scarlet Begonias from a florist. I checked all the websites of the local florists and none of them had any. So, I ordered some faux ones from Target. I also got her Jimmy Buffett tickets this coming August. Mine are only lawn seats though. So, not quite as awesome. I did agree to wear a grass skirt and coconut tits at the show. Hey, when in Rome, right?

Sigh....

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Shackled - Ch 2

Summary: After nearly ten years, Sam Winchester calls Miriam Bard to collect on a life debt. Unfortunately for Miriam, Sam leaves out a few important details.

Warning: Implied loss of family, grieving, depression, cursing, Demon!Dean, Sam’s tendency to leave out vital details for folks helping him to save Dean (read: Sam’s tendency to be a Winchester), threats of violence, emotional manipulation, mind fuckery (expect LOTS of that in upcoming chapters)

Word count: 1597

Author’s Note: This story would not be possible without @thoughtslikeaminefield , who convinced me to write and finish this story, cheered me on every step of the way, and convinced me that even after over a year of not finishing a single thing, I hadn’t lost my writing after all. MJ, thank you for poking the story til it squeaked. And for the banner. And lots and lots of other things. Thanks also to @cracksinthewalls for checking my work. You make everything you touch better.

If you’re reading this, hi! Have a seat and strap in, it’s gonna be a bumpy ride (in the best way!).

In case you missed it:

Ch 1

Chapter 2

The wave of sheer malevolence that rolled over Miriam nearly knocked her from her feet, and she only just kept from throwing her arms up in defense.

Nothing was coming at her, no weapons, no attacks or enemies. But the sense that something in this room was absolutely wrong couldn’t be denied any more than she could deny the mental and physical effort she had to exert just to stay by Sam’s side.

Torn, she thought, eyes darting around the enclosure. She wanted to bolt from the room, from the whole bunker, find the furthest cave, and bury herself in it.

And yet...

Moment by moment, she had to fight the urge to walk straight over to the man bound to the chair not fifteen feet away, a chair she couldn't help but notice was bolted to the floor.

What the hell did she think she’d do when she got there, exactly? Where was this coming from?

Her stomach twisted as she forced herself to breathe normally, to ignore the flush rising through her skin, and really look around the newly revealed room.

Dungeon, her scattered mind projected. The Winchesters have a dungeon.

A massive devil's trap, much larger than any of the few she’d seen, was painted on the floor. The sigils were painted in black against the grayish white of the floor; detailed, huge, and precise, the mystical symbols couldn’t help but draw her gaze. She examined the lines for a long moment, studiously ignoring the one thing in the room she suddenly needed to look at.

“My eyes are up here, sweetheart.”

Dean Winchester had aged a little better than his brother, but he’d obviously weathered some tough times, as well. That his arms were both cuffed and tied to the chair in which he was sitting, his eyes blacked out in true demonic presence, did nothing to ease every instinct within Miriam that screamed for her to run.

Sure, Sam had said his brother was a demon, but…still. Dean Winchester, the Dean Winchester, an actual demon? That wasn’t a fact that could be conveyed through simple words.

“Gretel, it’s been too long. Where’s Hansel? Did a mean old witch toss him in an oven yet?”

The demon smirked at his wit, and Miriam felt her lips drawing back in an involuntary snarl, but Sam’s earlier words echoed in her head, and she throttled down the instinct to find a very swift end to this abomination. Nostrils flaring, she cracked her neck slowly to one side, then the other, closing her eyes for a two-count before opening them again.

Dean watched her, head cocked inquisitively, showing the first signs of real interest since she and Sam had walked in. His obsidian eyes narrowed as he gave her a thorough once over. His gaze lingered on her neck, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he took in the ruined skin, the pulse beating along the column of her throat. When he spoke again, his velvet tone throbbed in her veins, even as his words sent her stomach spiraling.

“Nah, I think the big bad wolf found you both. Ate up baby brother and started in on you for dessert. Bet he thought you were real sweet. Wouldn’t mind sinkin’ my teeth into that neck, either.”

Sam’s hand on her shoulder brought her back to herself, out of the rushing void. She blinked, cleared her throat, tasted blood.

When did I bite my cheek? she thought.

She shook her head like a dog shedding water, and suddenly she was back with herself. She glanced at Sam, looking for guidance on what to do next. Every hunter instinct she had screamed at her to drown Dean in a vat of holy water, or behead him at the very least. Anything to not look into those eyes again.

Those empty, black eyes that pulled when they should repel, that called to her to jump into the abyss rather than backing away from the precipice like any sane person should.

But Sam, the same man who didn’t hesitate to tackle the witch about to finish Aaron off as Dean set fire to the hex bag all those years ago, was frozen in place, his mouth a thin, painful line as his red eyes shone wetly under the harsh lighting. Then he cleared his throat and looked away from his brother as he arranged some flasks on the metal table nearby.

“Dean, I’ve gotta get some supplies for the ritual. It’ll take me a couple of days. Miriam is going to watch you, keep you...company. Then we’re gonna fix this.”

The harsh, gritty laugh that rumbled up from Dean’s chest was as amused as it was mocking.

“Are you still on that crusade, Sam? I don’t need a babysitter. Let me go, and we’ll just forget this whole brainless little scheme of yours. I don’t need fixing.” Dean grinned wider as his brother visibly flinched. “Ain’t broken, Sammy. Just improved.”

Sam’s lips pinched together hard, his eyebrows drawing down sharply, but he didn’t reply, instead turning his attention to Miriam.

“I know it sounds crazy, but we’ve figured out a way to cure demons. I can get my brother back, but it’s not gonna be easy. I have to go get the materials, some kind of specialized stuff, and it may take me a few days. I need your help; our other...friend is dealing with something and can’t get back here, and somebody has to watch Dean while I’m gone, just in case.”

Miriam glanced disbelievingly between the two brothers, one very obviously at the breaking point, if not well past it, and the other seemingly bored despite being chained down.

She took an unconscious step towards Dean before she could stop herself, then planted her feet hard. What the hell was that? she thought.

Dean eyed her speculatively for a moment, taking in her odd internal struggle. His nostrils flared briefly as he inhaled, and a smirk began to curl at the corner of his mouth.

“I think we need to talk in the hallway for a sec, Sam,” Miriam said, her lips pressed into a thin, tense line.

Sam huffed out a breath, and Miriam could see he was relieved she wasn’t outright refusing. As he led the way back to the hall, she glanced at Dean. He’d reverted to his natural appearance; warm, clear green eyes sparkled across the room as he winked at her.

“See ya soon, sweetheart.”

She shuddered and hurried after Sam.

The air in the hallway was by no means the fresh air she’d prefer, but it was bracing and clear after the tense, conflicting atmosphere she’d left behind. She took a moment to gather herself, to get her overwhelmed thoughts into some sort of order. Before she could find her words, though, Sam broke the silence with the last thing she expected or wanted to hear right now.

“I heard about Aaron. I’m so sorry, Miriam. I know it’s a rough time for you right now, but-”

“That's not the point, Sam,” she interrupted before he could finish, irritation and pain flaring hot in her chest. “You said you needed my help. That implies there’s something I can even do here. You want me to watch Dean, but what the hell do you think I can do if he gets out? I can’t hold back a demon by myself! You could’ve warned me, saved me the trip!”

“He won’t get out,” Sam said, his fingers clenching reflexively on the edge of his sling, and he grimaced. “The cuffs are inscribed with runes, and he’s inside a devil’s trap; you know those will hold demons as long as the lines are intact. Those flasks on the table back there are loaded up with holy water. Anything happens, you run like hell, call me, and I’ll be back here as soon as I can.”

He stepped into her space suddenly, and she was overwhelmed by the sheer size of him. He grasped her shoulder with his good hand, leaning down to hold her gaze. His desperation was etched into every line of his face, and she felt a sudden, unexpected affinity to Sam Winchester.

“I had no one else I could trust. I knew if I told you the whole situation over the phone, you might not come. But I never forgot you and your brother, and I never forgot your promise. I knew, out of the few people I could turn to, that you were the only one who’d understand that I’m going to do everything I can to save Dean.”

Sam’s fingers dug into Miriam’s shoulder blade, but she didn’t flinch, holding his gaze for a long, weighted moment. Then she nodded. He was right. Of everything that had happened since she answered the phone seven hours ago, this was perhaps the one thing she really, truly understood.

“You’re gonna have to load me up with holy water, though. Maybe a water gun to hold it. You got a Super Soaker lyin’ around somewhere?”

Sam coughed out a sudden laugh and released her.

“I can do you one better,” he said.

He reached behind his back to pull out a knife from a hidden sheath. He held it out to her handle-first, and her eyebrows shot up as she took in the inscribed, serrated blade. She’d heard stories about that knife, but she never thought she’d actually see it, much less hold it.

“Shit, Sam, I knew you respected me, but I didn’t know you actually cared.”

...

Chapter 3

[wiccamoody]

on fandoms, deppy, glee & my life changing through media

sometimes i think i must be silly or too obsessed or too attached when i think about how much dan and phil, and being in this community, have changed my life. 

people laugh when people talk about celebrities and fandoms changing their lives, and maybe one day they will be that realization that the celebrities and the fandom didn’t really change anything, that they were just a catalyst to the change you went through. maybe i’ll figure that out in 20 years or something, but right now the change is distinctly tied to these things, these people, these fandoms. 

i’ve been in fandom (and by fandom i mean internet fandom) for just over 10 years now. i remember being around 9 or 10 and wanting more from harry potter than just the books and just the 5 movies that were out and just the pc games we had. i did some googling and found fansites and forums and fanfiction and i was probably too young to be reading and looking at a lot of what i was looking at but i was sucked in and completely gone (and harry potter still remains the one constant fandom in my life. despite all the bullshit, it’s my one fandom for life, at least right now). i’ve been in many a fandom ever since this, and while i’d say harry potter and twilight (which i got into around the same time new moon came out) had the largest influence on me as formative fandoms, glee came into my life sometime in 2010 and that changed everything. 

i was 11 when i started watching glee. probably too young, but the awful jokes they made mostly flew over my head which is probably a good thing. glee was…my life. harry potter was too, and then twilight, but glee had this impact on me in such a different way than those two. harry potter was my escape in my childhood, something i could easily turn to, like a comfort blanket. twilight was my bridge into the young adult lit world, and into the emo, goth, monster loving phase i haven’t quite left yet. but glee…glee shaped my whole world for me. 

i recognize that this is quite problematic; the whole show is problematic. it complicated my relationship with myself, with others, how i valued my self worth, and ultimately in really formative years of my life (11-14 was my prime glee phase, also my prime puberty phase, and i started high school at 13) left a lasting impression that i carried with me. i wish i had been past those years when the show was airing, i wish i knew how to critically consume media but i was a literal child. 

it was great though. despite having to go through my late teens unlearning things, glee was so fucking great. fandom was great. fic was great, feeling seen was great. but now i’m just haunted by it and i love to hate it. and i know it changed my life. for the first time watching it i felt this…feeling of comfort, in an odd sense. glee was supposed to be (key words here: supposed to be) a show about the misfits, for the misfits, and comedic. it was all of those thing for me because i was a kid and i was lost and confused and stuck and i didn’t know how to critically consume media. i used to have episodes on to help me fall asleep. i spent all my birthday and christmas money on music and boxed sets. i read fic and i wrote some in my head because i was too chicken to post anything and i spent hours combing through twitter. it consumed me and i let it because it was a safe space for me. again, very problematic looking back, but it was that first space for me to feel comfortable. 

i grew up in a very accepting household, but my mum’s old school in that she relies heavily on “gaydar” and always said she would know if i were gay and she knew that i wasn’t. and mum’s always right, right? a few other things happened in my life tangentially to that, and i just never had the space to think about my sexuality as anything other than straight. i didn’t question…anything about myself because i was a walking conglomeration of self-hatred and glee character personalities, and my mum knows best, right? but i latched onto glee and what it was supposed to mean, and i latched onto klaine and everything it meant to me, and when i was constantly asked “why are your favourite characters always the gay ones?” i never had an answer besides i liked them and they’re just…my favourites, when deep down they resonated with me in a way i hadn’t experienced before so i kept them close to my heart. 

the glee got progressively shittier and my interest was waning and i turned to other things. my best friend got into these dan and phil guys some time in october 2014 and begged me for months and months to watch them until she sat me down in december 2014 and forced me to watch a dan video because “you’ll like it and you’re a lot like him!”. and i immediately felt both of those things. 

i fell so fucking hard for them. i spent my entire winter break that year watching everything with them in it that i could get my hands on, consistently watching the sunrise as vyou after vyou played and i scrolled endlessly on tumblr, taking in everything i could. 

i was so lost, 15 going on 16 and depressed without knowing it, feeling like everything was going to fall apart when i touched it, like my existence was the end of the world because i am also very dramatic. but watching them was (and still is, really) an escape. from reality, from my feelings, from everything. 

to make a long story short (because this is already so very long) despite everything happening in the phandom, i found so much solace in it. it was this space that fostered so much openness about sexuality and shit in our lives because a lot of people were my age. i was older and i knew how to critically consume media and i wanted to challenge the adults in my life so i took a lot of comfort in what this community was, and still is. 

i don’t know if i would know i’m a lesbian (which i still have trouble typing out; words have power and stigma, and this one has been used against me in many ways) at this point in my life, or earlier, or at all, if it weren’t for this space. there are a lot of things i wouldn’t have known about myself without this space, far too many to list. i don’t even know if i would have gone to get help again, to get an actual diagnosis instead of shrinking away from help because the first “professional” i reached out to told me my mental health was just a minor issue in my life, that just breathing and willing away the thoughts will help. i don’t know if i would be on the recovery journey i’m on right now if dan hadn’t made that video about his depression. the list goes on, in this personal sense. 

and i wouldn’t have the people i have in my life now if it weren’t for this community. if i hadn’t said fuck it and decided to write and post and then taken the leap to join a word war chat and get angry to the point of joining idb and ceasing my position as a lurker and have everything spiral into what it is now, i would probably still be who i was just under 2 years ago, and that person was so sad. the friends i’ve made in this community have truly enriched my life and i’m so happy to have them in my life and to be able to call them friends, more than i can say. 

there are so many things in my life that wouldn’t have happened without fandom. i could be here for hours and hours listing and explaining, but i’ll save anyone reading this far still. 

people still laugh when i talk about fandom, especially when i say it’s changed my life. people who don’t get it will never get it, and i’m trying to brush that off and unlearn the shame i’ve instilled in myself over the years because people are mean. i’m not sure why i typed all that out. it’s been on my mind, though, and i wanted to put it somewhere. media changes people. the media we consume is important, whether you’re a fan of the media or not. it’s important to society and important to individuals. fandom’s been there for me in too many ways to say, but i wanted to get some of that off my chest. i’m ~feeling things and i wanted to say something. even if no one reads this i’m happy to have gotten it out and sent it into the void. i’m obsessed, yes. silly for sure. but i’m not silly for knowing that things have changed my life, and to continue to say that they have. i still have a lot to unlearn in the way of shame, and i know owning it is part of that. so maybe my conclusion to this massive wall of text is this is me owning it right now, owning the thing that people like to laugh at. it’s a step in the right direction, at least. 

[jaimistoryteller]

Jaimi’s Update

5/6/19 Update

Hi All

Thank you all for continuing to share Shelk’s GoFundMe, I really appreciate it and it’s been helping. Now on to that update I keep planning and not seeming to get to. 

This is a long post, so I will put it below a cut. 

About Me First

So March and April were both massively long and a more then a little painful, both physically and mentally. I had a depressive spiral because of something someone said, cause even though they hadn’t meant to set one off, their word choice did not help. I got it just about under control and someone else said something that sent it right back down. I finally got it under control again, back in the slow drag of getting out of it. Not that I know for a fact it will work or not. Life is never that easy. 

I spent way too much of the two months on the go, to the point where my body shut down a couple of different times and I was completely useless. At least I accomplished my goals though, even if I paid massively for them. 

I have a new therapist, she’s lovely but it’s frustrating, because I did not want to be changing therapists in the middle of shit going wrong, but alas it was a thing that had to happen since my previous one is officially retired for a variety of reasons (and I hope he enjoys it too!). 

Despite my best efforts, I am a foster fail again, and have a new cat, he is adorable and loveable. I’ve named him Silver for his chest and markings. 

[ID: Silver the cat laying partly on the laptop keyboard]

I’m trying to figure out how to pay my electric, it’s due on the 10th, I should have made a post on it, but I’ve been more focused on making sure my sister doesn’t lose her home. Plus I was under therapist orders not to think of anything money or work related for three days during this last weekend. 

Winston

[ID: Winston the rottweiler service pup laying on my lap while I pet him]

He’s doing perfect on his training, already has two of his tasks completely down, working on getting several more down. 

Unfortunately, there have been several problems with store peeps despite the fact I make sure he has his harness on and his leash on that says he is a service dog. They keep making a fit over the fact he’s a rottweiler, I even had one say it directly to my face. 

So I’ve ordered a bunch of business cards with the ADA online address on them, a copy of the two questions they can legally ask on the front:

Is that a service dog?

What tasks does your service dog perform for you?

On the back I put the four points people keep missing the most, copied directly from the ADA FAQ:

Staff are not allowed to request any documentation for the dog, require the dog demonstrate its task, or inquire about the nature of the person’s disability.

The ADA does not require service animals to wear a vest, ID tag, or specific harness. 

Covered entities may not require documentation, such as proof that the animal has been certified, trained, or licensed as a service animal, as a condition for entry.

Michigan has a voluntary registration program but it is not required.

The last point is from the state ADA, rather then the Federal one. If I had more room, I would have included the fact it’s illegal to try and force a registration, but alas business cards aren’t that big. 

I knew when I got him there was going to be questions because he’s so big, I hadn’t realized how foolish peeps were going to be over his breed. 

Both his leash and harness say Service Dog on them, but because I didn’t go out and buy the specialized one, but a training harness which was a lot cheaper and works for our needs just as well, people like to question it often. To the point where I even had one person tell me to get out of the store because someone else’s dog acted up, so mine couldn’t really be a service dog. Seriously, then she tried to back it with the ADA, while breaking the first three points from the back, and then insisting that the Michigan registry is required. 

Seriously, she’s one of the reasons I made the cards, right after I reported her and her boss, since she was insisting she checked with her boss, and her boss agreed. I even stressed to both the ADA and her company I didn’t want either fired, I wanted them properly trained, it should not be the customer’s job to print off the law and bring it in to make a point, just to keep shopping. 

I refuse to go back to having days I can’t go to the store because others want to have a problem with my awesome boy. If they have a problem with another dog, that’s the other dog’s handlers problem, not mine. To take it out on me is unprofessional. 

Shelk & Lot Rent

All of you peeps who have shared it (particularly you awesome one @noregretsnotearsnoanxieties) are wonderful! I appreciate all of the help. Shelk is flabbergasted and thankful beyond words for all the help. 

Last month we were able to get $555 within the $3,600. The lot owner accepted that, which set the eviction notice back to the 15th of this month. 

Right now we are at $150 this month, which is great as we are trying to get to at least $300, as that would pay at least one month. Currently she owes $3,345 between past and current due. 

A wonderful peep has said they are going to try and do something mid-month after getting paid, so I am rather hopeful, and I will be continuing to share, with updates every time there is a donation. 

Unexpected Meeting Kickstarter

I know I have two digital rewards to finish, I have been working on them, they will be posted by the end of this month. 

I am also going to start ordering the stuff to send out to people, getting the bookmarks, magnets, posters, and other goodies ready while the book is being edited. I can happily report the first few chapters have been looked at, though I have not yet had a chance to check the edits, which is why I haven’t shared snippets yet. 

It didn’t help that one of the rewards got corrupted when my computer updated in the middle of a save. Anyways, I’m excited! So bloody excited! 

Converging Lives

I will hopefully be returning to updating my @converginglives blog this week, I miss being able to post stuff there plus I still have the Spring 2019 A to Z Event to finish. 

I am also working on an actual website for it, which will have pretty much everything from the tumblr blog but in an organized method as I am tired of arguing with tumblr about it when making sure it’s in website format. 

Fanfic

Seeking is DONE - again. This time I emailed myself the file as well as typing it in google docs. Then of course docs didn’t have the problems it had last time. After 18 months of not being able to work on it, my muse finally got on the game. I’m so bloody pleased with that. I posted one chapter tonight, next Monday I will post the last chapter. 

I plan on posting the last chapter of Challenge Accepted on Wednesday as it’s done and I just need post it. 

I’m planning on working on Advent, Playful Stress Relief, Blessed, and Learning to Live. Why those ones? 

Advent is rough drafted out, might as well finish it. Besides, I don’t like the fact my lovely and fluff filled thing is still stuck in limbo. 

Playful Stress Relief is nearly done, I think editing was all I had left on that particular last chapter to finish it, though don’t quote me. It’s been awhile since I checked it. 

Blessed is calling me, though only lightly, and I’m not even sure there are peeps waiting for it, but hey whatevers. 

Learning to Live got a lovely comment which made me smile, in the height of a massive episode. I am updating it for that person, hopefully it will let me get on a roll and finish my oldest fanfic. 

You wanna see one of the other ones updated? Leave a comment on it, not just a “update please” but something you like, or a question, or even a smile face. Update please doesn’t encourage me, but pretty much everything else does. 

Cosmos Market

This is still being worked on, for those who don’t know what the market is, here is a link to the last post made on it. I’ll probably be updating it sometime in the near future, but at this moment that is a pretty good definition of it. 

I want -- need -- to get the market off the ground so I can stop needing to ask for help as I will have at least a small and stable income going. 

I’m not planning on making a lot off of it, just enough to pay my base bills, which will not put me out of the poverty line. I do expect it to be a success, however I plan on putting money into my employees and building instead. My sister being one of those employees in order to help her stop needing to ask for help as well since she’s been struggling to find a job. 

The market isn’t the only thing on the planner for business, it’s just the one I am focused on right this moment, though I have been eyeing my second rather heavily lately too, as it would be a much more passive situation for me to deal with. 

Disability

A lot of you know that I’ve applied for it in the past and was turned down as “disabled but not disabled enough”. I have reapplied for it. Why? Because I am still disabled, and a lot of times, things are worse then they were the last time I applied. 

This time I have been sent to deal with so many new doctors it’s making me want to scream. I don’t deal well with new people. Yet I have to. A lot. It’s frustrating beyond words. Still, if it helps over all, I will do whatever I must. 

It’s seriously my hope to get to the point where I can put it on hold, and only use it when I have a really bad flare up. Yes, things have been closer to stable since I got Winston, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t problems going on. I had a depressive spiral that lasted five bloody weeks. Sometimes I was able to force myself to get stuff done, other times I couldn’t even get out of bed because of my mind. It’s hard to be stable with that situation going on. 

Knowing my bills will be dealt with even if I can’t get out of bed would help a great deal. Far more than I really want to admit. At last, that’s the way it goes. 

Links

Rather then put the links in this mess, I will make a post just for them and then add the link to it here for those who want to share it. Any sharing would be appreciated as it helps more than you would imagine. 

I know a lot of people don’t have money, and while money is needed, that is not what I am asking for, all I am asking for is you take the time to share. Just a few seconds, a couple of clicks, can make a world of difference. 

While a lot of the links are about me, not all of them are as I also put up links to others who have helped me and friends who are in different tight situations. I’m a firm believer in paying it forward in any way possible. 

Link to Links

Previous Updates

5/1/19 & 5/3/19 

4/24/19

3/9/19 & Links

3/1/19

2/14/19

1/24/19

1/16/19

1/5/19

12/27/17 & 12/28/18

12/22/18

12/19/18

12/6/18 & 12/8/18

[writingwithadinosaur]

“Lost Battle.” - Oneshot

“Lost Battle.” - Oneshot

My Masterlist - Here

Kingsman Masterlist - Here

My Tag List - Here

Eggsy Unwin x Reader

Word Count: 2,051

Key: Y/N = Your Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color

Warnings: (TRIGGER HEAVY! PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION) Self Harm, Depression, Anxiety, Addictions, Negative Thoughts,

Summary: A bad mental breakdown leads you to lean into your addictions again, causing the downward spiral to continue. A oneshot that shows that support can mean the world to someone who has to focus on individual battles that add up in a massive internal war.

Author’s Note: This is a very selfish piece. My mental health has not been in the best shape as of writing this and it's been affecting my life more than I’d like it to. I wrote this in the middle/after breaking down on the phone to @witchymarvelspacecase the other night. I actually ended up using some parts of our texts in this story. This story is personal and what I wish could happen in real life after relapsing.

If you are struggling with anything, please reach out and talk to someone. Even just shooting someone a text message can be super beneficial in the end. And if you feel like you don’t have anyone, my messages are always open. <3 

If you would like to be tagged in any of my future pieces, check out my tag list above and let me know! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

<3

- DreaSaurusREX

There was no way you’d be sleeping at a normal hour tonight. Just like how your sleep schedule had been for the past two weeks. Late nights, barely any sleep, and for no reason. You were tired, but your brain wouldn’t stop reeling.

You fucked up. You fucked up. Goddamnit you’re such a fuck up. Everyone else is moving along and you’re still stuck. You can’t even get up and shower. Goddamn piece of shit.

You needed to get up and shower. You needed to eat. You needed to clean. You needed to do a lot of things today. But you ended up trapped in your comforter for a majority of the day thanks to the jagged claws, and life-sucking fangs of your mind until it was close to midnight.

You spent all day in bed? Sure, you went up and got around a little bit today. But what progress did you make? You’re still a goddamn mess.

Negative thoughts like that shouldn’t get to you. You know they shouldn’t, but here you were: Laying in your bed, listening to those thoughts, trying to figure out what to do next that didn’t involve your vices: Painkillers and razor blades.

You had talked to Merlin about taking some time off for personal reasons after breaking one of your clean streaks the night before. He agreed to it, not bothering to ask any further questions, and pretending not to notice the bandage around your wrist.

Your boyfriend, Eggsy, was sent on a mission while you were on leave. He should be back home within the next day or two, but there was no way of knowing for sure. You knew you could talk to someone at HQ if you needed to, whether that be Merlin or Harry or one of the medical professionals they had connections with. But you already felt like enough of a burden to everyone in Kingsman.

Taking a week off because you can’t keep your shit together? Wow. And they picked you to be a part of Kingsman? You somehow passed the tests? How? Maybe you should just save them the trouble and just leave. They’d all be better off without you.

You couldn’t stop the tears from flowing at that thought. You felt the thought coming, but still didn’t brace yourself enough for the impact it caused. You sobbed into your blanket, feeling nothing but sadness and numbness.

Why couldn’t you be normal? Why couldn’t you get a grip on yourself?

Everything was a blur as you untangled yourself from your sheets and found the shoebox under your bed. You lifted the top off and found what you were looking for: silver kisses and painkillers.

You slid against the wall and found yourself on your floor, fiddling with the thin metal at your fingertips. Before your thoughts could get any louder, you pressed the blade to your arm and left a horizontal line in its path. Letting out a shaky breath, you leaned your head back against the wall and closed your eyes, focusing on the stinging sensation on your arm. Without even looking, you began to cut again and again. Soon enough, you had a collection of lines on your arm, all of them with beads of blood in different stages of coagulation, stinging as you moved.

Stinging. You could feel it. You felt the dried tear tracks on your cheeks. You felt the AC coming from the vent across the room. You weren’t quite as numb as earlier. You had hoped that this would have silenced or even lowered the volume in your brain, but it ended up doing the opposite.

Holy shit… You really are pathetic. Relying on this shit to help you? How the hell is slicing yourself open supposed to help you? And let me guess, you’re gonna down some of those pills to make you forget the damage you did?

Sure enough, you grabbed for the pill bottle and downed three capsules with some water. Wishing tonight would quickly end with some sleep. But then you thought of something new to set you off:

What is Eggsy going to think? Yeah, he knows about your stupid addictions, but just think of how disappointed he’s going to be when he sees this shit.

You felt the tears welling up again. Eggsy shouldn’t have to deal with this.

Staying in your leggings and t-shirt, you slipped on your shoes, grabbed your cardigan and purse, ignoring the blood that was staining your sleeve, then walked out the door with no actual destination in mind.

~~~~

Eggsy’s mission had gone unbelievably well. It was a quick and easy interrogation and take down. Letting him come home earlier than expected. As soon as he got off the plane, he met up with Harry and Merlin for a debrief before he could go home and see you.

Thankfully, the cameras in Eggsy’s glasses caught the entirety of the mission, so there wasn’t too much for the men to discuss. After Harry dismissed everyone and said goodnight, Eggsy walked to Merlin.

“Where’s (Y/N) at? Thought she’d be part of the meetin’.” He looked around the room once more to make sure he didn’t somehow look over you.

“She asked for a few days off. I gave her a week as of the day before yesterday.”

“Oh.” Eggsy was a bit confused. You never asked for days off. Even when you were obviously sick. There was one time you had managed to come into HQ with no voice and a killer cold for half a day, avoiding everyone until Harry saw you and sent you home.

“Has she been alrigh’? Everythin’ fine between you two?” Merlin spoke in a hushed tone as to avoid anyone else from hearing.

“As far as I know, yeah. Why? Did she say something to you?”

“Actually quite the opposite. She didn’t say much of anything. I am concerned though. I don’t know if it’s anything related to her asking for a break, but she had a bandage around her wrist before she asked for time off. And there is no record of her going to medical before leaving.”

“Shit!” Eggsy sighed. Eggsy knew exactly what happened. He had been there to see the aftermath of a few of your breakdowns that ended with breaking your clean streaks. But you had just celebrated 6 months of sobriety from both of your addictions. Which meant that this break could be more dangerous than the usual.

“I’ve gotta go! Be on call if I need help!” Before he could get the last word out, Eggsy was running through the doors, yelling for other agents to move out of his way as he raced home.

~~~~

There was a small pier at the edge of a pond that was always vacant. It was a 20 minute walk from your flat if you took shortcuts. You hadn’t planned on ending up there, but you were glad you did. It was calming. You sat at the edge of the dock, leaning against one of the vertical posts, laying your arm on one of the horizontal beams. The location was the perfect mix of city noises and soothing waters.

Once you were comfy, you brought your knees up and relaxed your carved up arm on top of them. You rolled up your sleeve a little bit to see the lines in the moonlight. You could still feel the stinging, but not as much as when it was fresh.

So what’s the plan now, dipshit? Yeah you’re feeling shit again. But what now? You’re just gonna try and disappear? You work with, and date a spy. You can’t just run away. He’s going to--

Before your thought could go further, you were crushed by two familiar arms wrapping around you.

“Fuckin hell!” Eggsy was out of breath and you could hear the panic in his voice. “Thank fuck I found you.”

What the fuck? He’s not supposed to be home yet? But… SEE! You made him worry! You fucked up again! This is why you will never be--

You felt to guilty. Sobs punched through your chest and tears poured out of your eyes. He kissed the side of your head and moved you into his lap. You slowly wrapped your arms around him and buried your face into his shoulder, letting every last ounce of tears you had leave your system.

“Shh.. It’s alright, luv. I’m here. Whatever happened, you’re not dealing with it alone. Shh… Please breathe, babe. Breathe with me, yeah?”

He took exaggerated breaths to help you catch on to the pattern, until your breathing started to get back to a semi-normal state. He leaned back and looked at your face. His hands gently cradled your cheeks, wiping away the tracks that your tears had left. He kissed your forehead before speaking again.

“Whatever’s goin’ on, it is not the end of the world. You have been in this position before and you made it out. And I’m not letting you give up. Not that easy.”

You let another couple of tears slide down your cheek only to meet Eggsy’s thumb. You leaned your forehead on his and took a shaky breath before struggling to speak with your raspy voice.

“I feel like a fuck up. Everything got to be too much. I was numb and didn’t even think before getting back on this shit… I thought I was getting better but--”

“But you are gettin’ better! Maybe not as much as you’d like, but progress is progress!”

“I relapsed. I broke both clean streaks.”

“Yes, that sucks. But you can’t be angry with yourself. Try to be patient.” He lifted your head so you could see his serious, but kind green eyes. “We both know how far you’ve come. And we both know how far you still have to go. And you won’t ever be alone. Not while I’m around.”

A small smile grew on your lips. The first real smile in a while. Eggsy grinned and leaned forward to leave a gentle kiss on your smile.

“I don’t know if there is really a way to ‘get over’ any of my bullshit.”

“Even if there ain’t, I’m always gonna be here to help the best I can. I love you, (Y/N). And I want to be a part of your life. All of it. The good times, the borin’, the frustratin’, the rewardin’, the worst. All of it.”

You didn’t have any more words to say. Instead, you leaned to his lips and kissed him. He kissed back, holding onto you as if you were going to turn into ash and fall from his embrace. Eggsy’s pocket buzzing broke your kiss. He pulled out his phone and held it to his ear, not letting his sturdy hold of you lessen.

“Yeah. She’s safe. … Mhmm. … I’ll let her know. Thanks for everythin’, Merlin.” Sliding his phone back into his pocket, he stood up and held his hands out for you to grab. You took them and relied on him for support until you got some energy back in your system.

“Merlin was worried about you. He may not show it, but he actually cares about you. More than he cares about me I bet!” You chuckled at the last part. “He just wanted to make sure I found you. He also extended your time off. You just gotta let him or me know when you want to come back and he’ll arrange it.”

“Thank you, Eggsy.”

“No worries, luv. Now, let’s go home, get cleaned up, and get some much needed sleep.”

Within an hour, you were in bed with Eggsy. Your back against his front and his strong arm draped over your waist, reassuring you that he wasn’t going anywhere. Your arm was cleaned and bandaged properly thanks to Eggsy’s help. Most importantly, you both were finally feeling the wave of exhaustion taking over, letting you both drift off to sleep.

As you closed your eyes, you began coming to terms with the fact that this was going to be a war, not just a single battle. And there would be some battles that you would lose. But you didn’t have to fight this war alone. And eventually, you would come out on top.

Tags - @melconnor2007 @ashenfallsof @geeksareunique @all-by-myself98 @witchymarvelspacecase @theeactress @thomasstanleyhoelland @white-chocolate-mocha-fan

[anogete]

Camping with Dr. Bruce Banner

Here is today’s answer to the Cool for the Summer Challenge hosted by FYDL.  It can be read alone but is intended to be one of five chapters.

Prompt: Napping in the Sun (3 of 5) Rating: T (maybe M in a couple spots, but nothing explicit) Characters: Bruce Banner, Darcy Lewis, Jane Foster, Erik Selvig Pairing: Bruce Banner / Darcy Lewis Words: 2,209 Tags/Warnings: Foot Fetish, Mention of Significant Age Difference, Bruce’s Sexual Fantasies, Flirting!Darcy Beta Thanks: @chocolategate , @bulmavegotaku , @itscoffeefordinner , @rachelladytietjens AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15562815/chapters/36161085

She was lying on her back on a blue quilt just inside the shade cast by a large tree a few yards past where they’d made camp. While Bruce listened to Erik and Jane debate over where exactly the third telescope should be pointed, Bruce tried to keep his attention off Darcy Lewis’ legs and on the conversation at hand. It was difficult. She had really nice legs, especially when they were sticking out of a pair of frayed cut-off denim shorts. He couldn’t see her quite as well as he’d like to from where he was standing, but he did see her shoo off the two young men who had been hired to assist with carrying and setting up the equipment and campsite. Their names were Rob and Tyler, and they’d been eager to make time with Darcy since they’d all arrived the day before.

The two young men were now having beers by the two Jeeps they’d ridden in on. He almost felt sorry for them because he knew how appealing Miss Darcy Lewis was and why they’d made more than one attempt to engage her. Bruce didn’t feel too sorry for them, though, because he liked that she seemed more interested in talking to him. She’d flirted with him last night and again this morning. Bruce wasn’t sure why, but he definitely liked it. Couldn’t do anything about it, but he liked it.

“Bruce?” Erik asked, pulling his attention away from the young woman stretched out on her back and toward the calculations on the notebook page in Jane’s hand.

He had nothing to add. His head wasn’t really in the game. His thoughts kept sliding off to the side, considering her motive in flirting with him. He was probably old enough to be her father. He was definitely old enough to know better than to consider messing around with her. If she was serious, then he’d just be leading her on because Bruce didn’t want to tempt the Other Guy with any kind of adrenaline rush, especially the rush he’d get from putting his hands all over her. Getting off with his hand and that godforsaken--yet useful--sex toy that Tony had given him were more his speed. He could control the level of excitement, back off if things got too heated. With her, he might just spiral out of control. Nothing would kill the mood like a massive green toddler throwing a temper tantrum and possibly injuring or killing the object of Bruce’s desire.

“Yeah, I don’t know. I--my head is… I think I need to take a walk a clear it.”

“Sure,” Erik replied, turning around to fiddle with the telescope they’d been adjusting. Jane had a notebook in one hand and a calculator in the other. Bruce wanted to help, but he couldn’t seem to shake the distraction, the way his thoughts slipped right through his fingers and slithered in her direction.

Bruce looked over his shoulder as he walked away, wondering if Erik or Jane had picked up on why exactly his head wasn’t in the game. They seemed oblivious as they turned their full attention back to their work. That should be him; he should be helping and focused. He was better than following his dick around, especially when he couldn’t exactly use it in any meaningful way when it came to her. Even if it seemed like she’d be more than willing to fool around with him.

Bruce shoved his hands in the pockets of his pants and walked the treeline of the clearing they were in. There was a small lake just beyond the trees, but he stuck to the clearing so he could look at Darcy. She was still flat on her back, and her legs were bent at the knee. As he moved closer to her, he saw those red-painted toenails and her flip-flops discarded in the grass beside the blanket.

He approached from the direction of her feet, imagining how he’d like to kneel there and lift her leg in the air so he could kiss and lick her foot, her calf, her thigh, all the way up to her…

“Hey, Bruce,” she said, interrupting his lascivious thoughts of eating her out. He wondered if he could manage that without fear of the Other Guy making an appearance. He hadn’t tried in years. God, she’d probably taste like heaven.

She couldn’t see him and all he could see of her were her perfect feet and legs up to her knees. He licked his lips and stepped to the side so he could look down at her raised head. “Hey, Darcy.” He didn’t know what to say. If he tried to come up with anything else he'd risk voicing all those ridiculous fantasies banging around in his head. He couldn’t do that; she’d think he was a creep. It was one thing for her to show interest and another thing for her to accept that he wanted to rub the soft soles of her feet against his cock while he ate her out.

“Did you get bored with sciencing?” Darcy asked, letting her head fall back to the blanket.

“Mmm, I don’t think science is a verb,” he told her.

“It is if I want it to be.”

Bruce chuckled and tilted his head as he looked down at the way her tits were close to falling out of her green tank top. She had to wear some sort of push-up bra contraption for them to look that good. “Fair enough,” he said.

She shifted over and patted the blanket beside her. “Come relax. Take a load off.”

Bruce glanced over his shoulder at Erik and Jane. “I should be working,” he admitted half-heartedly.

“Yeah, well, you can’t work all the time, despite what those two maniacs think.”

He looked over at the young men they’d brought with them and back down at Darcy. “Thought you weren’t looking for company since you sent those two packing,” Bruce said.

Darcy rolled her eyes and wiggled her fingers on the blanket again. “Wasn’t looking for their company.”

God, he was too old for this shit. It was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. It was also depressing as hell when he stepped back and reminded himself the winks and the seduction were going nowhere fast. “You were looking for my company?”

“What can I say? I got a thing for smart guys.” She waved away a bug flying in front of her face and continued with, “Those two aren’t exactly dazzling me with their wit.”

“And I am?”

“Sure.”

Bruce chuckled and settled down on the blanket next to her. He adjusted the edge of the fabric that had flipped over just as he felt her tug on the back of his shirt. Giving in without any fight at all, he lay back next to Darcy, her shoulder pressed up against his.

“Don’t you have any T-shirts or shorts, Bruce?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know about you, but I think eighty-seven degrees and sunny with the humidity in the sixties is an appropriate time to break out the casual clothes.” Her tone was dry.

“You mean my attempt to impress you with these stylish khakis and button-up shirt has failed?”

Her laugh was indulgent, like velvet in his ears and all the way down his spine. “Oh, I don’t know. I think you’re pretty impressive without the clothes,” she teased.

Without the clothes. He swallowed the nervous laugh before it could escape his throat. “Be careful with the way you word things, Darcy. You might give an old guy some ideas.”

“I was careful with my wording,” she replied. “What kind of ideas you got going on, Bruce?”

When he glanced over at her, her eyes were closed and a small grin was playing at the corners of her mouth. He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face even if he tried. What was it about her that made him want to let up on the wheel, loosen his grip and just try to have a little bit of fun. Fun. Did he even know how to have fun anymore? No, he didn’t. He couldn't afford fun. He couldn’t afford to let up on the wheel for fear that the Other Guy would gladly take over.

“Lots of ideas. And they’re going to stay ideas,” he said, folding his hands on his stomach.

This made her open her eyes and look over at him. “Well, that sounds lame.”

“Darcy, you know who I am.”

“Yeah, you’re the professor that everyone at Culver and probably every other university in the world creams their jeans over. Smart guy like you has bound to have some fun ideas.”

He laughed and looked up at the cloudless sky. “I don’t know about fun. I’m not really fun.”

She made a non-committal noise and said, “You’re just all buttoned up. Undo some.”

“Undo some what?”

“Buttons.”

“I don’t know how. I can’t afford to,” he replied, feeling despair set in. He’d come over to flirt and pretend like he was a fun guy just like she said, but it had all gone south when he’d been unable to shake the weight on his shoulders.

She rolled onto her side and propped her head up in her hand, arm bent at the elbow. “You want me to show you how? Thought your mom would have taught you how to when you were in kindergarten.”

“What?” he asked, glancing over. Those blue eyes and pink lips were a weapon and he was unprepared.

She chuckled and reached out to tap the top button on his shirt, the one right up against his neck. “I wasn’t being metaphorical, Bruce. It’s too hot for all the buttons. Cut loose a little.” When he opened his mouth, she rolled onto her back again. “I said a little, not a lot.”

Swallowing, he reached up and unhooked the top two buttons of the shirt. The air was hot and humid, but it felt cool against the skin he’d uncovered on his chest. “Happy?” he asked her.

“Sure,” she said, shielding her eyes from the sun that had come around the tree beside them. “Girls like the kinda-sloppy look, especially when a sexy professor is rocking it.”

Bruce’s laughter sounded almost like a bark and was loud enough to make everyone else at the campsite look in their direction. “Sexy professor, huh?” he asked her. “I didn’t see one around here, but you’re gonna make me jealous of this loser.”

“Bruce,” she said, her tone admonishing, “don’t call yourself a loser.”

God, she was witty and sexy, and she was shamelessly flirting with him. His brain was buzzing as those fantasies that he’d shoved to the recesses of his mind tried to crowd their way to his consciousness. What if she came into his tent that night and put her hands on him? He’d have to stop her, of course. Of course. But when? Couldn’t he just get away with a little bit? Couldn’t he give her pleasure without losing that tenuous grip he had on his control? Couldn’t he just run his lips over the arch of her foot and up the inside of her leg until he could…

“I don’t think Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum know who you are, which is pretty ridiculous.” Her observation knocked him right out of his fantasy.

“It’s probably for the best,” he replied, covering his eyes with his hand as the hot sun beat down on them. “They’d be nervous around me, otherwise. I hate that.” Bruce glanced over at her. She’d covered her eyes with her forearm. “Why aren’t you nervous around me. You know, about… the Other Guy.”

“Thor says you’re cool. He said I could trust you.”

“You know Thor?”

“I’m here with his girlfriend, so yeah. I know Thor.”

“Oh. Right.” Bruce folded his restless hands on his stomach again. “That’s nice of him to say you can trust me.”

“Thor’s, like, the best,” she agreed. “And also a good judge of character.”

“Well, except for when it comes to his brother,” he said.

This made Darcy laugh. “Yeah. That’s so true. Family gets you every time, dude. Every damn time.”

They rested there, side by side, on their backs as the sun climbed a bit higher in the sky. The warmth made Bruce feel drowsy. She shifted until her shoulder was pressed against his again. Tensing, he considered moving away, but if he did, then he’d be halfway off the narrow blanket. He decided to stay right where he was because the press of her skin against his shoulder, even though the shirt, felt indulgent. It wasn’t every day that he got to lie around on blankets with beautiful women who shamelessly flirted with him.

She didn’t push him further, just sighed and settled in for a nap. He did the same because sleeping next to her seemed like a much better use of his time than spinning his mental wheels with Erik and Jane while his consciousness kept drifting back to her red toes and her plush lips and how her skin would feel under his hand or tongue.

[master-sass-blast]

Strong as Stone --Part Forty

Okay, full disclosure, this isn’t edited. It’s 3AM, I’m exhausted, and my depression is killing me. Don’t @ me.

Last time: Infinity War Part Three.

This time: The conclusion.

(Look at all the fucks I don’t give. LOOK AT THEM.)

Rating: M for injuries and death.

Pairings: Okoye x M’Baku and Shuri x OC.

@the-last-hair-bender, @skysynclair19

There are going to be times when you’ll be exhausted. When your limbs will ache, and your body will be heavy, and you’ll feel like you can’t take another step.

Keep your eyes on the goal ahead, my dears, and don’t stop moving until you reach it.

“We’re not sure how long we can keep the portal open for, so you’re going to have to be fast. Retrieve essential persons only, and then get the hell back here.”

Okoye nodded grimly as she eyed the portal Loki, Wong, and Dr. Strange were working on making.

The plan was simple, admittedly. Sneak into the realm of the Soul Stone, find their missing team members by tracking the vital signs from T’Challa’s kimoyo beads, and bring them back to Wakanda so they could take on Thanos with as full a team as possible.

The execution, however, was going to be infinitely --heh--more difficult. According to the experts at hand --Wong, Strange, and Loki--the realm was patrolled by various demons and monsters to ensure that any of the captives there didn’t escape eventual consumption.

Because the stone itself, apparently, had an active hunger for souls. Which meant, at any point, they could be devoured as well.

Not to mention the fact that Thanos was in possession of the Mind Stone --the yellow gem that had powered Vision--which meant that he was probably already aware of their plan and was devising a way to stop them.

A worthy long shot, if we can get our people back, Okoye decided as she watched the portal spark to life in the center of Shuri’s lab.

“Our communications probably won’t work once you crossover,” Shuri added as she fiddled nervously with one of her display interfaces. “And that could mean with each other, too. Make sure you stay close to one another.”

“Yes, my Queen.”

“We’re ready,” Wong announced. “We need to leave now.”

Okoye checked to make sure she had her weapons with her one last time, then walked towards the platform the portal was hovering over with Gamora, Wong, Rocket, Bucky, and a handful of the remaining Dora Milaje.

“Be careful,” Shuri added quickly, before any of them could step over.

“I’m not really sure that’s an option anymore,” Rocket muttered as he crossed over into the Soul Stone realm.

Okoye grimaced and followed the raccoon. He might be right.

The realm of the Soul Stone, admittedly, didn’t look all that much different from how Okoye had expected a magical dimension contained within a supernatural-type gemstone that actively hungered for souls to look. It was a desolate, barren place, with massive outcroppings of rock that twisted and stabbed into the air in jagged spirals. The sky was a stark shade of scarlet, and ghostly, gray beings floated through the air at random, fading in and out of view at random.

“They are the guardians of the realm,” Loki explained in a quiet whisper. “They’re attracted to soul energy. We shouldn’t be all that noticeable right now--”

“But that’ll change once we save the others,” Okoye surmised. When the demigod nodded, she sighed. “We need to keep moving. The sooner we get this done, the better.”

“We’re getting close,” Rocket hissed as he looked at their position relative to the coordinates where T’Challa’s kimoyo beads were still transmitting his vital signs.

Okoye eyed the sanguine sky warily as countless ‘guardians’ flew overhead. They won’t notice us when we’re in the midst of all the other souls here... but once we’re separated again...

“It’s just up ahead! Past that ridge!”

Okoye darted ahead, careful to stay concealed by various outcroppings of rock, and peered over the edge of the ledge.

Thousands of glowing cells lined the crater below them, each of which housed an individual person or alien.

“Shit,” Gamora hissed. “It’ll take days to find everyone.”

Okoye pursed her lips as she assessed the situation. “Then we don’t find everyone. We find our most essential fighters --the King, M’Baku, your sister, anyone we need to make the strongest team possible in the shortest amount of time.” She pointed to the screen on the tablet-like device Rocket was holding. “That’s where T’Challa is. We start there. With any luck, the others will be nearby.”

Gamora nodded, then winced when a ‘guardian’ let out eerie shrieking noise. “Let’s move.”

Winding their ways through the cells was tricky business. Aside from the ghostly ‘guardian’ creatures, there were also multi-limbed, skeletal looking creatures standing sentry amidst the prison-scape. Many of the most direct paths were completely unusable, cut off by some sort of monster or demon in their way.

“We aren’t going to be able to get enough people in enough time if we stay together,” Rocket grumbled as they dodged being seen by another sentry. He tapped at his tablet, whacked it against the ground when it didn’t do what he wanted to, and let out a satisfied huff when it pinged. “Alright, I sent the King’s coordinates to everyone’s stuff. We’ll use him to meet back up in ten minutes, and then we’re getting out, regardless of who we have or don’t.”

“Teams of two,” Okoye added. “No divisions past that.” She nodded at Bucky. “We’ll go find the King.” She crept down a row of cells, motioning for the various captees inside to stay silent as they moved towards the coordinates where T’Challa’s vital signs were.

“Get down,” Bucky whispered, gripping her shoulder to pull her into a crouch as another sentry walked past.

She adjusted her grip on her spear, glaring at the back of the monster until it loped out of sight. “We’re close,” she hissed as they started stalking forward again. “Only a few meters now.” She started counting down the cells, looking for any sign of her King--

T’Challa looked up when they reached his cell, moving from leaning against the back wall of the cell to standing by the door. “General.”

She bowed her head, then lifted her spear and drove it through the chains holding the door on his cell shut, snapping them into pieces. “Let’s get you out of here, your Majesty.”

There were a few other snapping sounds, and then Bucky was helping Steve and Thor out of their cells. “I don’t see anyone else that was with us--”

“Okoye!”

She darted past them and found Aneka, pressing her face against one of the cell doors further down. She broke the chains on the door, then pulled her friend into a crushing hug. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too. Where’s Ayo? Is she--”

“She’s in Wakanda, waiting for us to get back.”

Aneka let out a sigh of relief as she stepped back. “Okay. Okay. What’s the plan? How do we get out of here?”

Okoye turned around as she heard several footsteps against the ground and saw the others running into view with most --almost all, actually--of their missing team.

And M’Baku.

Okoye felt her heart stop for a moment --felt everything freeze inside her--and then she was sprinting towards him.

He caught her in his arms, crushing her against his chest as he hugged her. “It’s good to see you, ‘koye.”

“We need to go,” Gamora said. “We had to kill one of the sentries, but they managed to send off a flare before we took them down.”

As if to punctuate the severity of the situation, another skeletal being dropped out of the sky mere inches from Aneka’s arm with a metallic sounding screech.

Wanda stepped forward and lifted her hands, tearing the creature to shreds before it could do anything else. “Come on!”

As Okoye had predicted, the journey back to the portal from the cells was far more difficult than their journey in. They managed to escape the prison area without too much trouble, but the guardian creatures noticed the presence of too many souls outside the prison area before they’d even made it twenty feet away from the ridge.

“Keep moving!” Rocket shouted from where he’d opted to hitch a ride on Steve’s shoulder. “Come on!”

“If you haven’t noticed,” Okoye snapped, stopping long enough to ram her spear through the chest of one of the guardians, making it dissolve into a cloud of ash, “we’re a little busy!”

“Well, I offered to help, but someone didn’t want to give me a gun!”

“I am Groot!” Groot added as he caught an errant sentry with a vine-like extension from his arm and whipped it about like a rag doll.

“Exactly!”

“I can see the portal!” Gamora shouted from the front of the group. “We’re almost there! Come on!”

Okoye clenched her teeth together as she sprinted forward, doing the best she could to ignore the shrieks of the monsters chasing them. Bast, please just let us make it...

They practically slammed into the lab, almost tumbling over each other and different pieces of equipment in an effort to get away from the things chasing them.

“Close the portal!” Okoye shouted once everyone was through. “Hurry!”

Shuri did so, bisecting one of the ghost-creatures as she did.

Okoye drove her spear through its head as it collapsed to the lab floor, just to be on the safe side.

For a moment, everything was silent.

And then everyone was smashing into each other again, exchanging hugs and crying. Sobbing.

Shuri practically tackled T’Challa to the floor, clinging to him like he was her only tether to the world.

T’Challa, though, was hugging her back just as hard. “Bast, I’m so glad you’re alright!”

Ayo found Aneka just as fast, pulling her girlfriend into her arms and not letting go.

Tony and Peter Park. The Guardians and Nebula. Steve and Bucky. Friends, companions, and partners alike, all being reunited with each other.

After all the loss and grief, it was good to see.

Okoye leaned against M’Baku’s side as he put one of his arms around her shoulders --then chuckled when Dewani strutted towards them, looking endlessly pleased with herself as she tossed the Chief’s staff from hand to hand. “Oh, this ought to be good.”

The teen smirked as she stopped a few feet away, leaning against the staff as she eyed her elder brother. “You look good for a dead person.”

M’Baku laughed along with the rest of the room and bowed his head. “My Chief.”

“Hanuman, no.” Dewani handed the staff back to him. “You can deal with the elders and all the politics. That shit is exactly not my speed.”

He took the staff, then stepped away from Okoye to wrap his younger sister in a hug.

Okoye smiled as she watched the two siblings hold onto each other.

“Is there even a point in this?”

Okoye looked over at Jhanvi as she assessed their newly refreshed team of people against the intel they’d gathered on Thanos and his fighting style from Gamora and Nebula. “What do you mean?”

The technopath shrugged. “I mean, if these stones are really supposed to give him all the power in the world, is there a point in trying to fight him? We’re stepping up to get our asses dusted.”

She’s not wrong, Okoye admitted to herself. She shrugged back. “Would you rather go down swinging or sitting?”

“Swinging. Any day.”

“Well, there you go. Do you have anything else to contribute to the actual strategy?”

“Yeah. We should just cut the arm with the gauntlet on it off.”

Okoye blinked, then smirked as she added the idea to their working list. “Yes, yes we should.”

The plan --if it could be called that, really--was simple.

Jump Thanos, cut off his arm, kill him, and reverse the effects of what he’d done in the first fight.

Okay, it wasn’t that simple, but it sure as fuck felt like it in comparison to the millions of missions she’d planned and run before now, where she had piles of tactical data and more than a few hours to make a strategy.

But time was of the essence; the longer they waited, the more the Soul Stone would consume the souls it’d captured, and they were all in agreement that they needed to save as many lives --reunite as many families, friends, and partners--as possible.

Jhanvi, Tony, Bruce, and Shuri were tracking the energy signature from the Mind Stone so they could find Thanos. Once they did, the team would break down into two groups; Loki and Wong would take those who had initially survived the first fight with Thanos to Thanos’s location to distract him and fight him head on, while Thor and Dr. Strange would take those they’d rescued to sneak in behind the Titan and --hopefully--get the jump on him. In the midst of the fight, Thor would use his axe to slice Thanos’s arm off, and then someone would execute the tyrant.

Okoye wasn’t sure how they’d reverse his erasure of the half the universe, though --and judging from the grim looks the science experts had exchanged in Shuri’s lab, no one else was, either.

She let out a shaky breath and braced herself against the top of her desk. Now that she was alone, her doubts were starting to get the better of her. Fuck--

“Hey.”

Her head jerked up and relief coursed through her body when she saw M’Baku walk in. We manged to save our friends. We can save everyone else, too.

“Are you alright?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she practically leaped over her desk and grabbed him by the collar of his chest plate, pulling him down for a bruising, consuming kiss.

He responded with a groan that seemed to travel through his whole body before he practically crushed her against him, just as eager to devour her as she was him.

She wound her arms around his neck, almost deliriously happy as he lifted her and pressed her back against one of the walls--

Her kimoyo beads pinged twice, shattering the moment.

Okoye sighed, then broke the kiss so she could read the message. “They’re ready for us.”

M’Baku sighed, but nodded. “Alright. There’ll be time for this... later.”

“You better survive until later,” Okoye said, pointing a finger at him warningly. “If you don’t, I might just kill you.”

He chuckled and pressed his forehead against hers. “Well, Hanuman knows I would never challenge the orders of the indomitable General Okoye.”

“Damn right you wouldn’t.” She tilted her head up to brush her lips against his, just a little. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Now, come on. We’ve got a world to save.”

“Damn right we do.”

Okoye felt like laughing and vomiting all at once when she stepped through Wong’s portal and saw where Thanos had taken up hiding. A farm. He’s on a damn farm. He destroys half the universe, and then he just walks away from it like it means nothing to him.

She was going to put her spear through his stupid, over-sized purple head.

“I’ll give him credit,” Dewani said. “He’s got his irrigation system rigged up really well.”

“Seriously?” Shuri hissed as they walked towards a cabin that stood in the center of countless fields of alien plants; it was the only building for miles, and since Thanos wasn’t out in the open, it stood to reason that he’d be there.

“What? I’m just saying!”

“Can you just focus on what we’re actually here to do?”

“I am --wait, is he not using fertilizer? No bone meal? Hanuman, what a fucking chump--”

“Dewani,” Okoye said as she fought the urge to grin.

“Right.” Dewani smacked the staff she was holding against the porch of the cabin. “Thanos! Get your ugly purple ass out here!”

There were a set of heavy footsteps from inside the cabin, and then the door opened to reveal the monster himself.

Thanos wasn’t wearing any of his armor, save for the gauntlet on his hand. “You should know that coming here was futile. What’s been done is done. Let it be.”

“Well, then you should know that humans are both tenacious and remarkably petty,” Dewani fired back. “Hand over the gauntlet and we’ll kill you quickly.”

The corner of Thanos’s mouth curled up in a smirk. “Your hubris amuses me. Perhaps I will spare you so you can entertain me.”

“You are, like, exactly not my type, dude.”

Shuri activated her hand cannons and aimed them at Thanos. “You’ve committed unspeakable atrocities against the universe, Thanos. Surrender now, and your death will be swift.”

“You couldn’t defeat me before with an army at your side. What makes you think you can do so now?”

Okoye angled her spear at him. “Because this time, you don’t have any backup to help you.”

There was a loud scream from overhead, and then Thor slammed down onto the roof of Thanos’s cabin, bringing down a massive bolt of lightning with him.

Okoye ducked as the shack exploded into thousands of pieces --most of which bounced harmlessly off shield erected by Wong and Loki--then charged after Thanos. “Come on!”

The oversized alien rolled to his feet with a growl. “I will not tolerate this insolence!” He curled his gauntlet-clad hand into a fist, Infinity Stones glowing in their settings. “You will all die here!”

“Think again,” Tony said as he started firing mini-missiles at Thanos. “Maximoff, now!”

Tendrils of red energy crept across the gauntlet, curling around the stones and effectively halting whatever attack Thanos had planned.

“Hit him with everything you’ve got!” Steve shouted as he darted towards the Titan. “And get him in position for Thor!”

It was over before it started. With Wanda rendering the Infinity Stones useless and with no army to support him, Thanos was no match for the sheer number of fighters bearing down on him.

Okoye jammed her spear through one of his knees, knocking the giant to the ground --

and Thor was there right after, driving his axe through Thanos’s forearm as the Mad Titan let out an anguished scream.

“Oh, that’s nasty,” Peter groaned as Thanos’s hand fell limply out of the gauntlet.

“You know, blood’s actually really good for plants,” Dewani said.

“Are you serious--”

“If I focus on what actually just happened, I’m gonna pass out, Shuri.”

“It’s over,” Tony said, helmet retracting so he could stare Thanos down. He gestured aimlessly with the gauntlet. “Now, tell us how to reverse what you did.”

“I did the universe a favor. I brought balance--”

“You know what? Nevermind. We’ll figure it out without you. Someone kill this guy.”

“Nebula,” Gamora said softly. She jerked her chin at Thanos when her blue-skinned sister shot her a confused look. “He’s yours.”

Okoye looked at Nebula, then at Thanos, then held her spear out to the woman. “Aim for the head.”

Nebula grinned ferally as she took the spear and stalked over to Thanos. She braced her foot on his throat and angled the tip of the spear towards his forehead. “You should’ve killed me when you had the chance.”

Thanos glared up at her, defiant. “It would’ve been a waste of parts.”

Nebula screamed and drove the spear through his head with a sickening crack.

Everything was silent for a moment as Thanos’s body went completely limp.

Dewani gagged. “Oh, Hanuman. I’m really gonna throw up now.”

“Is this gonna work?”

“We’ve been asking that question ever since Thanos arrived in Wakanda to inform us of his plans. I’m not sure there’s even a point in asking it anymore.”

Okoye kept her gaze trained on one of the many monitors in Shuri’s lab as Wanda, Dr. Strange, Wong, and Loki gathered around the gauntlet. “Let me know when they start.”

“Alright, in three... two... one...”

She could almost feel the energy in the room change, but kept her gaze focused on the screen.

At first, nothing happened.

And then, a little counter began pinging rapidly.

“It’s working! It’s working!”

They’d done it. They’d reversed Thanos’s slaughter and restored the universe. News stations were running story after story on the “reverse rapture,” speculating about just what had happened and showcasing different heartwarming stories about families, friends, and couples that had been reunited.

Okoye leaned against the trunk of the tree she was sitting under, exhausted and numb in the wake of everything that had happened, everything they’d done. I feel like I could sleep for a year.

It was done. They’d defeated Thanos and saved the world.

She opened her eyes as she heard a set of footsteps approach.

M’Baku smiled down at her. “Come here often?”

“Not often enough, it seems.” She shifted over on the bench so he could sit next to her, then slumped against his side. “I’m so tired.”

M’Baku pressed his lips against the top of her head as he put his arm around her. “It’s over now, Okoye. You can rest.”

She nuzzled his shoulder. “Believe me. I plan on it.”

[my-dear-hammy]

Falling Through Time: Book 2

Masterpost

Jamilton Series Masterpost

Basking in Firelight

Part Forty-Six:

Just Getting Started

----

Warnings: None

----

Funny thing about being elected as the first presidents of a Nation that had presidents previously is the white house was already built. There wasn't a bunch of moving around as the capital was decided. There was no watching it get built. Hamilton thought it was great they didn't have to worry about moving. Jefferson found it slightly sad. He loved watching things become something great. But he could also see all the history just under the fresh coat of paint and that history is what made it so beautiful.

Of course, that's what they thought. When someone told Jefferson that the white house would undergo renovation to accommodate the massive increase in personnel, Jefferson wouldn't allow it. All that history, gone, just to make room for eight or so more people and their cabinets? Not gonna happen. Hamilton didn't see what was so wrong with it. Out with the old, in with the new. But if someone didn't think about making sure what was happening today could be remembered tomorrow, then how much history would be lost? How much history was already lost just because people thought that no one would ever forget? Far too much. Jefferson was bent on keeping that from happening. That's why in his past life he always made copies of every single one of his letters, it's why there's so much history surrounding the birth of The United States of America, it's because it got written down.

So Jefferson insisted that the White House be preserved and instead used his own money to construct a presidential manor. A new house for a new nation, right? The best part, he got to design it himself. As much as he wanted to avoid the look and build of a mansion, there was no helping it. His first idea had been to build little cabin type designs for each member and a central building for meeting with ambassadors or cabinets, to keep it humble and simple. But Jefferson realized how inconvenient that would be. Imagine all the running around. No, everything had to be centralized which meant that Jefferson would be stuck with a mansion design after all.

He could still do a lot with that.

In the meantime, they made the White House work. There were plenty of guest rooms. Jefferson didn't fully understand why the White wouldn't be suitable even without the renovations, but Hamilton insisted that it be either renovated or they moved. So Jefferson chose they move.

Hamilton was surprised by how easy being president was. There was nothing to do. Literally. He spent his time wandering the rooms. Jefferson had been saying there'd be so much stress, yet here they were, bored out of their minds. Where was Jefferson anyway? After a ten minute hunt, Hamilton found him sitting in the oval office, looking over paperwork. "Is that something we need to take care of?" Hamilton asked, excited that there was work for him to do.

"No, not for you anyway. These are the floor plans for the Presidential Manor."

"Oh, I forgot you were designing that yourself. Are you going to put in gardens?"

"Who in their right mind wouldn't?"

"Just asking, jeez." Hamilton looked around the office. "So, I thought you said this would be stressful and time-consuming."

Jefferson looked up at him. "Hamilton, the government just started up. You have to give it a few days. Last time was hectic because of all the issues that were glaringly obvious. In a couple days, Congress will put forward plans for commerce and laws that become evident as time passes. This time around there's no constant debate about slavery, thank God, and you and I don't have to fight over financial systems. That's not even your job anymore. I'm sure by the end of the week we'll be so swamped with paperwork that we won't be able to see the door. Besides, we can't get started until the rest of the elections are over. We still have to wait for our vice presidents."

"I bet the financial plan need reviewing. I should look it over."

"That's your treasurer's job, Hamilton. Now can you leave me alone so I can work on this, I'd like to have the plans finished before the flood of paper so we can actually get started on the Manor."

"I need something to do, I can't just sit around and twiddle my thumbs," Hamilton protested. "Who do you think is going to be Vice?"

"Well, Washington retired and went home. I'll bet Madison and Burr will be two of them."

"Yeah? What about the other two? I bet Lafayette could get a position."

"Can you imagine if Adams ended up being your vice?" Jefferson laughed.

"No-" Hamilton's eyes went wide. Jefferson was full on cackling. "Not going to happen. Nope. Nope."

"It's fully within the realm of possibility. You're in the same party, yeah? Very likely. At this point, I'd be surprised if it didn't."

"Yeah, well, you'll have to deal with fucking Burr. Remember how well that went the first time?"

"Shit."

"Yeah. So fuck off."

***

Ends up, they were pretty spot on for elections. Madison and Burr were Jefferson's vice presidents, Hamilton's was Adams, and to both Jefferson's and Hamilton's surprise and pleasure, Angelica was Hamilton's other vice.

Jefferson was right. Hamilton was swamped with work. Jefferson and Hamilton were running back and forth to each other's office every five seconds to get a signature or steal some important document or discuss something. Right now, they were dealing with the aftermath of the war. The nation was bankrupt thanks to the oligarchy and King George's taste for extravagance. There were small uprisings of Govey loyalists to deal with. King George disappeared and went into hiding as soon as the word spread if the Rebel victory. He still had to be found. Commerce had to be renegotiated and reestablished with other nations since the Eastern States was technically a new nation now, so all old treaties and agreements were void. That meant ambassadors had to be nominated and approved and then funded to be sent overseas. The infrastructure of the government had to be completely rebuilt from the ground up. That was the part of the government that dealt with building roads and cities and buildings. Keeping everything up and running. Electricity, power, gas, water, tram systems, licenses, everything. It all collapsed in the war and is nearly impossible to rebuild.

Unless you've got deep pockets. Deep, deep pockets. Something the government didn't have.

It didn't help that Jefferson and Hamilton argued over everything. Jefferson was constantly worried about Hamilton proposing another financial plan like the one before. Jefferson fought against it the first time because he predicted that from it would spring corporations that would grow powerful enough to slowly turn the Republican form of government into an aristocracy or monarchy. And was mostly right. Look around at the world around you. Corporations control everything. Jefferson bitterly regretted the day he and Madison traded it for the capital. But they would need a system for raising money and fast. If they didn't come up with anything soon, the nation could fall apart as it spiraled into depression.

Hamilton also wanted to use the military to squash the Govey resistance. Jefferson had to remind him daily that they were citizens and had every right to protest the government as long as they didn't endanger the nation and her people. Hamilton wasn't happy. He didn't like being slandered by the press. Every time something was published about him and his past affairs or supposed new ones or any awful slander people could come up with to rake his name through the mud, Hamilton was always right there with a sharp and barbed response, defending his honor. That's always been his weakness. The ones put against Jefferson went ignored. The people could say whatever they wanted, he wasn't going to dignify schoolyard taunts with a response.

"We should think of a flag redesign," Hamilton said one day, walking into Jefferson's office, plopping into a chair and kicking his feet onto the desk.

Jefferson eyed Hamilton's feet, debating whether or not to push them off and risk scattering his papers everywhere or leave them be. He really didn't feel like having re-sort his papers again, so he let them be. "A new flag?"

"Yeah. We're getting a new Manor, new government, new treaties, probably a new name when someone thinks of one. Why not a flag?"

"I suppose, but we already have so much to do," Jefferson sighed, looking at his desk and the tall stacks of files.

"So, we do what the old government did before the oligarchy was formed all those decades ago. Make it a contest. Anyone can participate. All the designs are sent in and we can decide from there."

"That's still a lot of work, Hamilton. Work we don't have time for."

"Nonsense. Pull a couple all-nighters and we'll be good. Just drink some coffee."

"Hamilton," Jefferson rubbed his face tiredly, "we've both already been up for three days straight. We literally walk into each other in the hallway and stand there confused about it for a minute until we realize we were heading to the other's office. I don't think our bodies can take much more sleepless nights."

"More coffee."

Jefferson hit his head against the desk. "Fine. Let's run it by Congress."

"Great!" Hamilton jumped to his feet, "I'll do that right away" he dashed out of the office, nearly running into the door on his way out.

Dear God, that man was going to be the death of Jefferson

----

[randomthingsthatilike1]

Was talking with @tomas-abe​ about this--have you ever thought of a supergirl leverage au?

Honestly, I’ve talked so much about how Kara isn’t a horrible liar—she’s a phenomenal liar. She makes everyone think she’s a bumbling, harmless, ordinary, average human—her kindness isn’t a lie, but as we’ve seen with RedK—it is a choice. And we’ve seen her with Clark— “you really have the clumsy thing down.” But for Clark that was real. For Kara, it’s an act. She’s the heir to a house renowned throughout the galaxy for its scientists—and she was about to become the youngest person in Krypton’s history to enter the science guild. But she was told over and over and over to be ordinary, average, unremarkable—to hide herself, hide anything that marks her as alien. She’s a genius in a room full of preschoolers who are just now learning concepts that she’s understood since before she could walk—of course she’s bored with earth science.

Supergirl isn’t a lie, but it’s not quite the truth either—and neither is Kara Danvers. Both are part of her, but at the same time they’re both personas that she embodies and can step into almost at the drop of a hat—they are constructed and built. And yes, when outright confronted, she is a horrible bluff—she can’t do it. But almost everyone forgets or glosses over how much pain Kara must always be in, the anger she carries inside of her of being the very last, of being sent away, of being alone. They forget that she is not simply a human with powers but forever and always Kryptonian with powers—like how everyone thinks of Clark, like we’ve seen in Myriad how even Clark thinks of himself, Kara never thinks of herself as human. She has a different language and values and culture and religion and she fools everyone into thinking that she’s just like them(for more about this, here’s the post I made that’s a lot more comprehensive). That isn’t Kara’s stage. This kind of complicated and woven falsehood is her stage. Sound like anyone?

Kara would totally be a grifter. Especially a Kara who wasn’t found by Clark, who wasn’t found by the Danvers—this is Kara without a purpose, who sees her cousin flying over Metropolis with the house of El’s Crest on his chest and doesn’t need her. She has nothing to live for—so she wanders, constantly pretending to be someone else and she gets good at it. She has a soft spot for swindling people who violate environmental laws because it’s easier—and never goes after anyone who doesn’t deserve it. That doesn’t mean it’s necessarily legal. She’s also got a soft spot for art—it’s marvelous, in a way even Krypton never was. And grifting is something that makes her feel alive, covering up for just a little bit the gaping hole in her heart where Krypton used to be. And really, she doesn’t have very many ties, or attachments—she travels light, easily able to switch identities and leave at the drop of a hat. There’s this undercurrent of sadness in all of her identities, even with the happiest of her personas—which just makes her a mystery and all the more magnetic to the people she’s trying to con—she’s able to seem so damn genuine and sincere it’s addicting.

Not to mention someone who can easily see everyone’s tells because of advance senses, hear their heartbeat and see infinitesimal twitches and expressions that pass in a millisecond—she didn’t visibly use her powers as Cat’s assistant, but she still kept the job for 2 years before using super speed or strength—and that was because of how well she could read Cat, who went through probably hundreds of assistants before finding Kara. That would be essential for a grifter. Plus, we know that she learned English in less than a week. An entire language in just a handful of days—being able to learn regional dialect and adopt accents and

She goes by so many aliases, trying to run away from the memory of krypton. But her current alias? Kiera. Kiera Deveraux.

Kara woke up alone on Earth and saw her no longer baby cousin with their family crest on his chest doing perfectly fine—he’s grown, he doesn’t need her. How would he even know about Kara in the first place, or any of it? Kara’s been doing this since she was 13, and now she’s probably 30 something, maybe 32. We’ve had Clark even say—Kryptonians age very slowly. She still looks like she’s in her early 20’s. She doesn’t seem to age maybe that makes her even more legendary but she likes to use make up to make her look older because that truly fucks with people, although she never goes after bad people.

One thing that is truly different from Krypton, and not in a bad way, or a lesser way, is the way humans create art—she loves art. And it’s something that she bonds over with their thief.

As for who’s Nate, the alcoholic whose young son died because of corporate greed, the mastermind who thinks of every contingency and almost obsessively observes and analyzes? Why, that’s none other than Cat Grant. Cat Grant

Cat, who was a war correspondent for the Daily Planet but god that was so much danger, maybe too much when she finds out she’s pregnant with Carter—she wanted a break from them and she made a split-second decision. She’s still planning on creating CatCo, but that takes money. And she’s not asking her mother for it. Journalism doesn’t pay all that much frankly—and she gets a commission off of the things that she recovers.

But she spends every single cent she saved up for CatCo paying for medical bills for her son. She has so many regrets in her life—this isn’t one of them.

She hasn’t talked to her ex in months—M’gann as Maggie, much more adjusted, still hurting but not self-destructing and spiraling like Cat is. They met when Cat was pregnant, Carter the result of an impulsive and kind of crappy one-night stand that she has no desire to track down. This is a Cat who knows about aliens maybe, a bit more discreet. Except—M’gann maybe isn’t the most-adjusted because hospital bills are expensive, and Carter may not be biologically hers but he was still her son too and she would have done anything to help pay for those medical bills—including illegal and shady alien fight rings to help pay for medical bills, almost killing herself in the process. The week Carter died M’gann could barely even walk.

It’s why Cat never told M’gann about the experimental treatment she found. There was nothing her wife could have done.

By the time the series starts she’s definitely drinking her life away, and divorced from her ex.

So—I’m guessing it’s not much of a surprise to say that Alex is the hitter. This is Alex without growing up as Kara’s little sister, without losing her father. Without the pressure of being an older sibling to a special needs child being raised by a single mother—without the worry that if Kara was found to be special needs she would die, because if anyone other than the DEO (and trust me, intelligence agencies are notorious for being petty and not sharing information. They probably keep it to themselves) finds out about Kara she will be taken apart molecule by molecule. This is an Eliza who has Jeremiah to temper her, and a hell of a lot less stress. Alex probably has the most stable childhood and came out of it with minimal scarring.

Sure, maybe the DEO came knocking but this is the Danvers family with nothing to lose—they could threaten Alex, but the Danvers can threaten to expose the DEO. In canon, it would be mutually assured destruction with the Danvers exposing the DEO and the DEO likewise exposing Kara. Not the case here. Once the DEO came sniffing Jeremiah and Eliza enrolled Alex in a shit ton of martial arts class. And just remember, Alex was a surfer—her balance is phenomenal to start with. She has years of training in childhood to get a leg up, and she gets into competitions in college—Alex is always competitive, always a need to strive and be the best, especially since she lives a childhood without Kara. She hasn’t found out quite yet that there are more important things than being the star.

This is Alex without intense depression, guilt, anxiety, and massive responsibility on her shoulders—Alex parties sure, but not a supreme or unhealthy amount. She’s able to finish her post grad studies and med school almost faster than the time that it takes for people to get their undergrad degree, her parents supporting her decisions and hoping their daughter follows in their footsteps. But it’s not quite that simple.

Intelligence agencies frequently recruit from elite colleges. Alex changed so much when she made the decision to be Kara's protector—she’s a different person, one who maybe feels a bit purposeless, and wants to serve. It definitely causes a wedge between her and her parents. They don’t want that life for her, they want her to become a doctor and a scientist and to be safe. But Alex has never wanted to be safe, just extraordinary. It causes a falling out between them. She definitely is a field agent, and probably did some pretty shifty things. And then went to work for Damien Moreau.

Wow, did that get fucked up. She becomes the retrieval specialist/hitter.

In every world, it is Kara who brings out Alex Danvers' protective spirit. Even this version of Kara who is warier and a little less openly heroic—she sees danger or someone getting hurt around her and of course she helps, but not in the same flashy way as before. Alex looks at her and thinks "this dork needs to be protected." And in every universe Alex becomes protective of Kara, and at first it’s because Kara is so damn seemingly hesitant and gentle and clumsy, and doesn't know it's bc Kara is always trying not to hurt someone

But God later, later it's so Kara will never accidentally kill someone and then, when she finds out that Kara is this way because of her super strength, she becomes all the more protective when she finds out it’s because Kara doesn’t want to accidentally kill someone. When she learns the truth it actually makes Alex want to protect her even more. But like, emotionally. Like "this gentle thoughtful alien has to worry about being gentle always so you better not startle her you asshole"

But surprisingly out of all of them Alex probably has the least traumatizing childhood tbh. Post childhood is a different story.  all that shit, she has a skillset already. Instead of acting, she’s terrorizing undergrads as a professor—she does have a PhD. She’s not Elliot, she doesn’t need food and something useful to do with her knives like he does. She has an MD and can practice medicine but she never really did a residency anywhere—plenty of field experience though. She’s been trying to the whole teaching thing for like the past year.

And when they all get together for their first job, and even after it all goes sideways Kara still doesn't really trust these people so no way was she revealing that she could probably be more effective than most hitters. So when Cat gets the crew to stay together she's like “this can be dangerous so I'm getting us a hitter,” Kara stays silent. Cat and Alex knew each other for a long time when cat was finishing her time as a war correspondent Alex was just getting her start. You know how they find Sophie at a theater? They find Alex at a lab, since she wasn't hired for that con they didn’t get a hitter they got a grifter instead—Kara.

Nate and Sophie knew each other ahead of time, but in this story? It’s Alex and Cat. Kara isn’t Sophie, she wouldn’t try and walk on the straight and narrow by being an actor—that’s not what she wants. But Alex? Alex has a PhD. Alex has been trying to teach college kids for the past year as a professor, but before that, on her very first job? Involved a run in with a certain war correspondent—Cat Grant. They kept in touch and now the gang needs a hitter unrelated to them and oh Cat has the perfect candidate.

Also, if in every universe Kara brings out Alex's protective side? in every universe, Kara would expose herself for Alex and save her plane from crashing. There was that time the plane blew up, and maybe they couldn’t stop it—Kara isn’t going to let everyone she cares about die. Not again. She reveals herself for the first time since she landed on Earth—and that’s when things start to get interesting.

And next: their thief: the one and only Lucy Lane. Her mom signs her up for both dance (primarily ballet--but really the type of dance can change depending on what’s close to the base they’re on and which dance classes the country they’re in offers)—and gymnastics from a young age. We’ve heard plenty of General Sam Lane, and we know that he’s both Lucy’s father and Lois’s—along with the fact that Lois and Lucy have an age difference, and they’re not close. But what we know absolutely nothing about? Lucy’s mother. Because I kind of hc that Lucy spent a lot of time abroad going from base to base growing up. And maybe something happening to her mother, also when she was young. Now, there’s just one question: what happened to her?

So. There are a few options. Maybe she was sick. Maybe one of her dad’s enemies happened—either one he made domestically, or internationally. You don’t get to be a general without coming out enemy free. Especially from someone like Sam Lane. This is a man who has absolutely no compunction about torturing someone, who’s xenophobic as fuck and we’ve seen with James is pretty damn racist as well (and most likely homophobic tbh)—and Jenna Dewan Tatum is Lebanese. So I def hc Lucy as Lebanese, and Lois has a different mother (and yeah, you can totally be racist if you’re married to someone who isn’t white). He very well could have done something to Lucy’s mother. Or maybe even she just left—it’s not easy being Sam Lane’s wife.

If it was her dad's fault there's a very good chance he goes weeks without talking to her and maybe that’s the first time she stole. It’s been 3 weeks forgot to leave little Lucy money for takeout or groceries and she’s all by herself, recently moved to a new country so no one knows her, Lois gone, she doesn't know how to talk to her sister, and this is before cell phones and she definitely doesn’t have an email, and esp w international communication there's no skype. In one universe she decides against it, collapses on the floor where her father finds her and has a massive freak out, internally promising to change his behavior and stop neglecting his daughter so much but in this one? This one she goes out and steals for the first time gets a taste for it.

It helps that there are so many asshole men in the military, there was that line about not wanting to work for old white men. As an adult, she doesn’t steal from anyone who can afford it, but as a kid she’s mostly just trying to get by with a neglectful father, picking victims at random but going for the ones who at least dress like they won’t miss the wallet too much. But maybe, when they’re back in the States for the first time in years, Lucy steals from the wrong person—and Archie does exist in this world as well. He takes her in, but not really--the same thing he does to Parker. He teaches Lucy, and she gets good fast.

Lucy’s 14, 15 when she leaves her father for good. It’s not the first time she runs away but it’s the first time she doesn’t come back, or the first time Sam can’t find her again. Because he’s now General Sam Lane, he has subordinates who would go and find her but this is when they're back in the US and they’re a bit more limited now. One day she just packs up a few things that she doesn’t want to leave behind and poof. Disappears. She’s not quite a master thief but damn she’s getting there. She kept up with ballet and gymnastics, Sam thinking that it would be good structure but jokes on him.

So much of the art Lucy steals was either created by old white men, or stolen by old white men. She later doesn’t feel bad about taking it. This is a Lucy who was always on her own, with so many questions, traveling from place to place and never really made friends so she doesn’t quite get people, not really.

So that just leaves the hacker: Lena. Her background would still be the same, adopted at 4, hated by Lillian, Lex a good big brother and loving and welcoming. And maybe Lena’s 12, maybe she was being teased a bit at her fancy boarding school for being too smart and pudgy and has really bad acne that won’t go away no matter how much Lillian pays dermatologists and Lillian wants her to wear contacts but she has glasses she really likes and is very publicly known to be adopted and is not at all heterosexual and is surrounded by pretty girls at school all the time, the poor baby gay.

Basically, the absolute worst things to be in middle school all in one girl. and Lex, her still darling older brother who loves his sister more than anything, tells her that she just needs to figure out how to be cool and is like you know what's cool? Motorcycles. He makes his baby sister be in full protection, but he’s just in his usual suit, not wearing even a helmet.

Lena was behind the wheel, Lex letting her drive and is right behind her. There was a crash and Lex insisted that Lena wear a helmet, but he didn’t. And Lena wakes up in the hospital, arm broken, a concussion, and her brother dead. Can you imagine how much Lillian would be on the warpath? She knows that Lillian doesn’t like her but this time she sincerely worries that Lillian will kill her for this. She’s sometimes worried about her safety but not really her life—not until now. So. She runs. Lena goes by her birth mother’s last name, not Luthor—that’s far too distinctive.

She gathers as much cash as she can. It’s not immediately, of course. It’s over a few weeks. She continually takes out slightly over average for the Luthor’s weekly allowed amount of money from her account, not too distinctive but paying in cash stops a lot of questions from ever being asked.

She’s definitely the youngest out of the bunch. But Lex taught her more than how to ride a motorcycle, he also taught her to hack until she was just as good as he was—maybe even better. That’s when she disappears. She's a kid but she knows how to hack her way into leaving hotel reservations and accounts--leaves a back door into Luthorcorp if she ever needs it. But she never uses it.

She doesn’t want to be traced or found, doesn’t want to be reminded of Lex, of what she fucked up. Lex was the golden boy who was saving the world, everyone loved Lex, Lena most of all. This isn’t the Lex who tried to kill her. Some signs of mental issues there, like not wearing any protection riding a motorcycle but nothing like trying to kill his baby sister, or xenophobia.

And damn, this is a world without Lex Luthor. Without his influence, or quite a few of his inventions, or any of his xenophobia but with so much more of Lillian’s hate and rage.

And God, she’s season one Parker level of uncomfortable when grifting. She can channel who she was expected to be as a Luthor, but that’s kind of the extent that she can do. She spent so much time alone, and she’s already awkward, to say the least, before her brother’s death. Lex was one of, if not the only, person who understood her.

Lena grew up a Luthor, and then was a hacker. She probably spent a lot of time in hotels, especially since she ran away so young, she tried her very best to avoid people but she knows how to look like she fits in to those fancy hotels thanks to years with the Luthors, she doesn’t look like a runaway but god she’s so bad with people, she tries avoiding them as much as possible and she’s so awkward looking as a kid and a teenager and it’s just when she meets the Leverage crew is she finally starting to grow into her looks—she’s not used to being hot tbh.

Also I’ve wondered, especially in later seasons, how the leverage gang got so many clients because even just word of mouth like they go all over the country and even the world—we saw that ep w Parker’s torn ACL that they go to Japan, and in the ep with the boy’s heart they were coming back from a con. There may very well be someone doing referrals. And that person here? Is Diana of Themyscira, art museum curator. After all, the leverage gang acquires so much art, they send it somewhere. And they trust Diana

It’s not just Diana, and it is a lot of word of mouth, but they probably have someone in a law office or courthouse or something who sends along cases/failed lawsuits and with Maggie? She’s always gonna be in the criminal justice system, but what if instead of a cop she became a lawyer? She sees the system fail people over and over and somehow hears about Leverage Team and starts sending people to them. And like, Maggie as a lawyer can still be kind of a daredevil! She's that lawyer that picks up hopeless cases and fights against big powerful people at the stand—think of season 1 of arrow Laurel Lance. Team Leverage has to rescue her from kidnappings and thugs sent to beat her up relatively often (except Maggie Sawyer knows how to defend herself thank you very much so they sometimes just have to do some clean-up or Lena some hacking to get back at the people threatening their friend)

And then there’s James and Winn—hello the show’s version of McSweeten and Taggert. So to start: James. Not every single major event in someone’s lives needs to be because of a world shattering story, like a sister who falls from the sky. Maybe it could be something simple, something you don’t even think about. there was a delay the day James was in metropolis, before he took that photo of Superman. Maybe there was a simple flat tire keeping him home-bound, or he stayed after a class to talk to a professor. Because that photo might be what got him a job at the Daily Planet and definitely a Pulitzer. Canon James described himself as just a kid with a camera, and let’s say Clark is like what, 22 when he debuted? Let’s make James about 4 years younger—around 18.

James double majored in both Peace and Justice alongside Photography, sold that photo of Superman for an absolute king’s ransom, and he drops out of school to be a full-time photographer. But that doesn’t happen here. Being good at looking at a scene and observing every single thing that happens is still a p good skill for an FBI agent honestly? could be something inconsequential. “An eye for detail" is what his instructor says when he's up for promotion into full-fledged agent. He’s always wanted to help people, be a guardian for others. This is how he does it. Knowing what to photograph for evidence, maybe how to case a place, or even as a cover? is a pretty good skillset for an FBI agent to have frankly.

And then there’s Winn. Consider this: if Cat doesn’t establish CatCo, then Winn wouldn’t work there. Winn is the son of the Toymaker, a child murderer. Winn wants absolutely nothing to do with his father, publicly renounces him and hasn’t ever visited him before. He joins the FBI hoping he can use the skills his father taught him to do good and to keep him on the straight and narrow and stop him from ever becoming like him. Maybe starts as a forensic computer analyst and works his way up.

This is the only pairing that I’ve decided on but James and Winn definitely get together and poor James, he’s been flirting with Winn for so long and Winn just doesn’t notice.

They’re a rag tag group of people, and the only ones of the 5 that go by their real last name are Alex and Cat. Lena doesn’t want the Luthors to find her, and Lucy doesn’t want her Lois or the General to find her—she barely remembers Lois, and what she does remember is someone who never really cared about her. And Kara wears personas like a wardrobe—she’s never told anyone her name before.

The four of them are all brought together for one con—but the con’s on them, although not for long. Mon-El (who’s human in this—guess what I do make the rules) really shouldn’t have tried to use Cat’s son. He doesn’t even know what hit him.

[the-bounce-back]

I FEEL GOOD, SOMETIMES I DON’T

I should probably start by saying that this post will be very different from what I’ve previously shared on here.

In all honesty, I was unsure if I should even post this at all. When I started this blog, my vision for it was that it was going to be a hub for infinite good vibes, positive energy and empowerment for myself and whoever ended up reading it to combat and eventually overcome depression, anxiety, emotionally harmful thoughts and so on. But I’m realising now that I’ve made a bit of a mistake in my approach.

So far, I’ve been writing about aspects of my mental health that I’ve already overcome, accepted and healed from - hence why I’ve been able to write my advice with so much self-assurance and positivity. Writing about things within my comfort zone and knowing that my learning from my experiences has helped people has undeniably made me feel really great lately. However - behind the scenes, to put it dramatically and in true Liv style - the past couple weeks have been really, really sh*t for me.

It’s hard for me to even write this, because it forces me to acknowledge that things really aren’t okay right now. I kept convincing myself that I shouldn’t put it on here, because it really goes against the light and fun tone I’ve been able to maintain from the start. But after much thought, I remembered something very important:

As much as I wish that the positivity and self-confidence I’ve been feeling for the past couple months could magically erase the years of mental health issues, it just doesn’t add up or make sense. Of course there will be be bad days, slumps, insecurities and irrational thoughts from time to time that manage to rear their ugly heads - it’s a part of the healing process. It makes perfect logical sense, because it’s how we overcome these times that end up proving how strong and resilient we have become.

I say that, like I haven’t been in denial that a slump has been looming for a while now. I’ve been so obsessed with this happiness and positivity that I’ve been feeling, that I’ve literally forced myself to ignore the huge red flags that everything was going to go to sh*t very soon. I tried to rationalise that the feeling of unease in my stomach was due to the novelty of moving and securing this job has begun to wear off, and that text book near-panic attacks were just due to me being tIrEd or hUnGrY.

I’ve decided to write about this, because I also want to normalise the hard and sh*t parts of healing. I want people to know that having bad days is okay, not being a ray of f*cking sunshine all the time is okay, having meltdowns is okay, that not feeling okay is okay - as cringe as that may sound. I also want to show that not having all the answers all the time, winging it and having a well deserved whine and moan is fine, too - and that’s essentially what this post is going to be about. I need to f*cking vent.

These past couple of weeks have been hell for me, to put it lightly, and as earlier mentioned, I chose to ignore every single sign that a slump was pending. When I’d come home from work with a gnawing feeling in my stomach that something bad was going to happen, I’d just binge eat a bunch of junk food and then go to sleep so I didn’t have to think. Whenever I’d be dangerously close to realising that the happiness I’ve been feeling is slowly but surely crumbling, I’d find myself forcing myself to banter and laugh about the whole situation so that I could mask how shit I was feeling about myself. And when I had two separate anxiety-attacks - which I haven’t had in ages - I forced myself to make light of them and make jokes.

Honestly. I feel like such an idiot for not taking them seriously. The first one was me waking up at my mates house after her birthday party with an insanely high heart rate and in a cold sweat. I was the only one awake at the time and I was actually really scared of dealing with it alone, so I ended up leaving. I later made light of it by saying that it was probably just because I was still drunk, that I’m a drama queen and that I was definitely feeling better after sleeping in my own bed.

The second one happened literally a couple days later. I blacked out and almost fainted on my commute into work. I‘ve experienced lightheadedness and dizziness before, but this was definitely different. My vision was blurry, I was seeing black dots around me, the music I was listening to kind of faded out and sounded muffled - like I was underwater - and my legs were shaking like mad. If I hadn’t had something to cling very tightly to, I’m very convinced that I would’ve passed out and fallen. I still can’t remember how I managed to stumble off the train at the right stop, but when I finally got some fresh air and my senses stabilised, I noticed how much of a cold sweat I was in.

Most normal people would’ve realised that they needed a time out at this point, but not I - I was forcing myself to believe that I was still happy, that everything was okay, that I just needed to ensure that I got a good night's sleep and eat something. I only told my housemate, my sister and my mum what had happened, made jokes about not wanting to go on WebMD because it’d tell me my brain is hemorrhaging… and then went about my day.

Right now I’m really torn, because I really want to internally punch myself up for not listening to my body...but at the same time I’m trying to be kInDeR tO mYsElF and fOrGiVe MySeLf for not following my own advice. Who even am I?

With all jokes aside and the background for this post out of the way, let me get very real.

As I mentioned earlier, I’ve been having this feeling of unease for a while now. This is a classic sign of anxiety - feeling that since things are seemingly too good to be true, something terrible must be coming up to ruin the peace. Since I know that when I usually feel like this it’s just down to irrational thinking, I kept suppressing the feeling and convincing myself that I was gucci.

Only this time, the feeling was real. I received some potentially life-changing news last week, that really rattled me to my core. I don’t even want to share what it is at this point, because I’m worried that discussing it openly on here will manifest it more than I already have by telling the few people I trust. All you as a reader needs to know is that it was heartbreaking and very illusion-shattering, and it definitely pushed me over the edge that I had no idea I was so close to.

The interesting thing about receiving bad news is that the way you take it onboard says a lot about your mental state. If you’re in a good place mentally - much like I was a couple weeks ago - chances are that you’ll be able to deal with it in a healthy manner and feel very assured that things will turn out fine, at least after the initial shock. But unfortunately, since I’ve spent the past couple of weeks convinced that something bad is going to happen, it’s really just sent me in this massive downward spiral.

When I get sad - like, really, really sad - my usual composed and collected self goes out of the window and my mind goes down a very irrational and self-deprecating path. My first thought when I heard the bad news was that it was my fault - I felt like I had literally spoken and willed it into existence, and blamed myself. Of course, it’s easy for me to see the irrationality of this feeling as I’m writing about it within a short window of sanity before the next emotional downswing comes. But when I let myself just be sad, I really and truly blame myself, and I don’t even know how to stop it.

The problem with me is that I struggle a lot with separating different things going on in my mind when I’m feeling like sh*t. I can never be in my feelings about one isolated thing - once the waterworks start, I really just feel sad about everything until I feel like there’s literally no point to my life anymore, and I start contemplating whether this life really and truly is even worth all this stress. The phrase “when it rains, it pours” is even an understatement, because why am I being attacked by this storm from a million different directions?

The maddest thing is that I feel like I deserve it, even though it literally makes no sense. I find myself thinking that this sh*t is all happening because I’ve made such a big deal out of putting my own mental and emotional wellbeing above my own family and friends - and now I’m being punished for it. I’m not entirely sure how or why this concept that I’m being punished has even manifested itself in my mind, but lately it’s really been taking over and literally poisoned my thoughts.

It’s my own fault that my relationship that my family is strained - I was the one who decided to move away.

My family, friends, colleagues and acquaintances don’t really care about me, or particularly like me for that matter - they just tolerate me because I’m there. It wouldn’t make any difference to them if I lived or died.

The pride, confidence and success I’ve been feeling careerwise lately is going to come crashing down any second now, because I don’t even really have the brains or resilience to make it like that. I’m an imposter, and people will soon realise it.

The immense loneliness I feel from time to time is there because deep down I know that the people I deem important in my life only see me as a background character in theirs.

I’m putting up a front that the failure of my last relationship it was all for the best and that I learned and grew from it, but deep down I know I’ll probably never fully be ok again. And even if I was to, I’d never be capable of loving them back because I’ve become too emotionally apathetic to feel anything for anyone again.

This confidence in my beauty that I’ve been feeling lately is all a scam. Deep down I know that I’m hideous, and no amount of healthy eating, working out, positive affirmations or glowing up will ever be capable of changing that.

...you get the point. It was actually really hard to type those out - as mentioned earlier in my blog, putting words to feelings you usually keep buried inside is genuinely traumatising. The thing is, when I read back what I’ve written when I’m in a good frame of mind I know it’s all rubbish. I know that my family and friends are proud of me and my success. I know that I matter. I know that the loneliness is my head messing with me and unresolved issues, because I’m surrounded by amazing friends. I know that when the time is right and I’m emotionally ready, I’ll settle down with someone on my wavelength that actually deserves me. I know that I’m very beautiful.

But the power of the mind really is a force to be reckoned with. It’s terrifying. It really has me thinking so irrationally and doubting my own knowledge, and it’s so emotionally draining. Furthermore, it convinces me that I’m the only person in the world feeling like this, that I’m some sort of emotional outcast that’s carrying this huge burden in secret. I literally feel like I can’t tell anyone how I truly feel anymore because - even though I preach about being unapologetic about feelings - I’m terrified that I’ll be judged, thought to be overdramatic or labelled as attention-seeking.

I think the horrible and most frustrating part of this whole slump business is the three states of mind I differentiate between until it passes. I’m either balanced, really f*cking numb or really f*cking sad.

The balanced part - not to be confused with actually being content - is the state of mind that I force myself to be in when I’m at work or need to interact with people and feel relatively normal. People don’t even know - or care - enough to see that I’m constantly having to fight myself to not be affected by anything that could trigger the other two mindstates.

The sadness that takes over from time to time is the hardest to deal with because it’s so unpredictable. I’ll just be going about my day at work, sitting on the bus, hanging out with friends, watching a movie alone when I suddenly just feel tears coming. Most of the time I don’t even know why it’s coming because it seemingly doesn’t even have a trigger. All I know is that it’s really f*cking hard to keep the tears back, and if I let the tears come I know it will go on for a really long time.

The third and final one - the numbness - is definitely the most scary one of the three simply because it’s so out of character for me. I’ve been a quite sensitive person my entire life - as in no stranger to crying and getting in my feelings - so when these feelings began to emerge I was worried that there was something wrong with me or that I had snapped. Well, I would’ve been worried if I had been capable of feeling it at the time. As someone that’s used to crying whenever things get hard, suddenly feeling numb, empty and unbothered by all the sh*t that’s going on is a massive red flag. The first time I felt it - in conjunction with ending things with my ex - my therapist theorised that it was my brains way of protecting and repairing itself from the overwhelming amount of sadness I had been feeling. I’m no neurologist so I don’t know if this is correct - but it would make sense if that was the case. The numbness, apathy and lack of emotion was a blessing at first, but I soon noticed that it actually makes me not even give a f*ck about my family, friends, job, body or health either - which simply isn’t me. In the long run, the lack of emotion really ended up taking a toll on my health. I was drinking very excessively at this point in time and tried other substances that I know for a fact I wouldn’t have dreamt of trying otherwise - simply because I didn’t care if I lived or died anymore.

Luckily my periods of numbness aren’t as bad as that anymore. I’d like to think that it’s because I have become more resilient and mentally strong since then, but I’m not even sure anymore. All I know is that when I lie in bed at night and try to allow myself to cry to let out all the pent up emotions, the tears don’t even come. That’s how I know that something is very wrong.

Whenever I feel myself slipping into this rotation of mindstates, I desperately try to find a way to get out of it because I’m scared of how long it is going to last this time. You might as well call me Solange, because I literally try to work, laugh, sex, joke, eat, drink, shop, clean, read, cry, sleep, pray, ignore and - as you can see - write it away. Sometimes I’m able to distract myself for brief periods of time, but as soon as the good feeling wears off I’m just back to feeling like sh*t again. I’m scared now that all the positivity that I’ve been feeling in conjunction with moving and starting a new job is beginning to wear off, and that going back to constantly having this underlying sense of sadness and loneliness will fully take over my life again.

Unfortunately, only time will tell. And much like Solange implies, I can’t keep trying to avoid confronting my problems.  I’m just going to have to ride this sh*t out, hope for the best and force myself to stay positive, even though it all feels really hopeless right now. Hopefully one day I’ll be able to revisit this post and share the lessons and solutions I’ve been able to devise by going through it - after all, that’s what I’ve been doing in my previous posts. But I don’t know when that will be.

I could go on writing about this forever, but my mind tends to go around in circles when I feel like this and I feel like I’d just be repeating myself. Although the purpose of this post was for me to have an outlet for my emotions before I ended up snapping and going full on Mrs. Hyde, I hope that me sharing how I’ve been feeling can let whoever might be going through a similar period know that they aren’t alone, regardless of how lonely and alienated the sadness makes them feel.

I want to round up this post with a short list of tips for whoever can relate to this post, on how I personally try to make these episodes at least slightly easier to deal with (Because is it even a Bounce Back post if it doesn’t have tips in bullet points? I don’t think so):

Time your productivity with your emotional upswings.

If you’re anything like me, the particularly bad feelings come and go in waves. When you can feel that you’re in a good-ish state of mind, make sure you address all your responsibilities, chores and other things you need to do. Don’t worry too much about the amount of extra time it ends up taking - taking slightly longer on a task is much better than doing it when you’re in a sh*t mood and would honestly just want to off yourself. For reference, it’s taken me two weeks to write this blog post just because I didn’t want to write it while being miserable - because I knew it wouldn’t be very helpful, would make me feel worse and probably wouldn’t make much sense.

Don’t neglect yourself.

Luckily I have a full time job now that doesn’t allow me to fall into patterns of self-neglect anymore. But if I didn’t, I’m positive that I’d just be in bed taking depression naps, netflixing, ignoring everyone and either overeating or not eating at all. In fact, that’s literally me on weekends when I don’t have plans. Not healthy or helpful at all, in other words.

A shower (or even better...a bubble bath), brushing your teeth, leaving your room, eXeRcIsE, fresh air and a cheeky cuppa really does do wonders in terms of mood-lifting. I promise that giving yourself that extra push to do at least 3 of those things will make you at least feel like you’ve done something with your day so you don’t have to be so hard on yourself for being a lazy sh*t.

Keep your living space clean (!!!)

Fun fact - I may or may not have burst into tears after coming home from work the other day and seeing that there was a whole lot of sh*t on my unmade bed and on the floor. On my good days I’m usually a bit (a lot) of a neat freak, so when my living space is disgusting it really just is a reflection and a brutal reminder of how bad my state of mind is. Of course, I had no one but myself to blame for the mess but it really ended up being the last drop that sent me over the edge.

If you at the very least make sure your floor, bed and other areas you know you’re going to want to wallow in self pity in later on are tidy, it really does make a huge difference. One less thing to have a meltdown over; we stan.

Force yourself to believe that it will pass.

This is really difficult when you literally feel like you want to play in traffic. But try your best to remember other times in the past where you felt like your life was falling apart and appreciate that the lessons you learnt from that have made you slightly more resilient this time around, even though it may not feel so.

For example - regardless of how terrible I feel right now, I remember times when I couldn’t even brave leaving my bed to go to uni or work...and that was for a lot less bullsh*t than what I’m going through now. Furthermore, the more of these episodes I have, the easier it is to convince myself that it will, in fact, pass. It always does. You just have to ride it out.

Don’t isolate yourself.

I thought I’d finish with the one that’s the most challenging (for me). I’m naturally a bit of a loner - always have been. Going to other people to talk about how much I’m struggling has never come naturally for me - it’s not really until my adult life that I’ve learnt to understand the importance and benefits of talking to others. Furthermore, when my brain tells me that my family and friends don’t even f*ck with me like that, it really is a huge challenge to overcome that feeling of insecurity and reach out to the people that supposedly hAtE mE. I’d rather just stay in bed and protect my feelings by just being alone and then cry about feeling lonely. Make it make sense, please.

Of course, this is far from healthy and it is imperative to learn how to break away from this pattern of thinking. Nowadays I force myself to leave my room and annoy my housemate, force myself to grace my friends with my comedic abilities so I can at least try to have a laugh, and force myself to reach out to family members that I’ve managed to convince myself don’t really want to talk to me.

It really does make a massive difference and I promise you that you will be positively surprised. It really makes you remember that it’s all in your head and makes you more able to disregard the feelings when they come and try to attack you.

Whew enfant. I definitely feel better now. Apologies in advance for the rambling and the probable confusion, but to be honest no one really forced you to read it. I don’t really know how to end a post like this, so I’ll just finish up by reminding whoever needs to hear it (including myself) that these feelings are normal and will pass, as well as that feeling like this doesn’t imply weakness or a lessening of worth.

Keep telling yourself that until you believe it.

In the meantime, I’m going to try my best to keep my head above water and keep dishing out posts about how to get through times like this. Fear not, I still have loads of ideas that I want to share - and I’m not letting a sh*tty couple weeks ruin the good thing I’ve started.

Love,

Liv

[cynthiajayusa]

Kelly Clarkson Talks Artistic Liberation, Confronting Anti-LGBT Parents

During her 15-year career as your friendly pop spirit-lifter, Kelly Clarkson has prescribed a cheap alternative to therapy: anthemic pick-me-ups like “Since U Been Gone” and “People Like Us,” songs that impel a transcendental, fist-raised state.

Late-night Facebook Live sessions are also her thing, and recently, the American Idol alum geeked out like she’d just won “Idol” all over again about her soulful rebirth, Meaning of Life, released on her new label, Atlantic Records. It was just Clarkson chillin’ on the couch with a glass of red wine that was much deserved, considering the artistic sacrifices she had to make post-“Idol,” when she felt creatively stagnate as a Top 40 machine for RCA Records. But aside from a fat glass of red, Clarkson has other strong urges too.

Due, in part, to her simply being so damn cool, Clarkson – who drowned the world in their own tears right along with her own as she was crowned the inaugural “Idol” winner in 2002 – tells me she feels so compelled to stick up for her LGBT besties she literally wants to go door-to-door and talk some sense into her friends’ homophobic parents.

Because her friends ask her not to, she doesn’t. But here, with the ever-outspoken and now-artistically-liberated Clarkson leaving almost no opinion unturned, the Texas native makes that point loud and clear. Before getting back to being a mom to River Rose, 3, and Remington Alexander, 1, as well as husband Brandon Blackstock’s kids Seth and Savannah from a previous relationship, Clarkson spoke like one. Even her simple “diva” request – a “pretty dress to sing in” – is enough to make you wish you were on that couch with her and a bottle of Pinot.

Mariah, P!NK, Kesha – so many female artists have gone through the creative struggles you have.

Oh, every artist. It’s so not unique in any way.

How good does it feel to finally be yourself artistically?

It just feels freeing to make an entire project and, in its entirety, I’m 100 percent excited about it. There wasn’t any compromise. It’s how I feel the creative industry should feel. There’s nothing like working on something you’re so proud of.

Please tell me you at least got a little sloppy at a gay club to celebrate the end of your contract with RCA.

(Laughs) Brother, I got four kids and a career, I ain’t got time to go to clubs! I’m rockin’ a 1-, 3-, 10- and 16 year-old, man. You know what club I go to? The club of playing board games with my family…which, actually, I love.

Plus, you have your farm just outside Nashville. You’ve got chickens to raise!

We’ve got our chickens, our honeybees, and our orchard. We love our farm.

Have you sent RCA Records head Clive Davis a copy of the album?

(Laughs) Be like, “This is what I was wanting to do this whole time!” Yeah, no. (Laughs) You know what’s so sad: I was so excited to work with him. You have no idea. He worked with so many of my favorites: Janis (Joplin), and he worked with Bruce Springsteen way back in the day. All these artists who were very innovative in their time, and I was so excited. That’s been one of the saddest points for me in this industry – just figuring out that someone I really look up to just was not what they seemed. That was a pretty big blow. I was pretty sad about that. Like, we don’t always need to meet our heroes.

In some ways, your story of artistic suppression is relatable to the LGBT community. As an ally, do you recognize that affinity?

Talking with my gay or lesbian friends over the years, I can’t imagine. I’ve always said I can’t imagine not being able to be myself in and out. And, yes, while I can relate a bit musically to feeling like you’re going over massive hurdles to try and get to a compromise that you’re happy with, that’s nothing in comparison to hearing my friends talk about (being gay), especially in the South where I grew up, and then the faith thing comes into play.

I had one friend wait, and this is the saddest thing ever: I don’t think she ever felt comfortable in her skin because her parents were older. So, they passed away and then she finally felt free. I thought, “What a horrible feeling to have to wait until people aren’t around to be yourself.” I could never ever relate to that. I feel horrible that anybody has to go through that. It’s almost like when people ask me about other artists who have all these shticks about them and I’m like, “Oh God that would weigh on me if I had to keep that up, if I had to keep doing shit to make everyone happy.”

Walking onto the stage in, like, a pretty dress to sing, that’s really the extent of my diva, or just my experience on the stage. I’ve always just been very simple. Even in situations, musically, where I really had to fight or jump through hoops, I still was able to be myself, which I think people didn’t like because I was very open. But I have to do that. I have to express myself. Literally, I would go in such a downward spiral of depression if I weren’t able to, and that’s why, honestly, a lot of friends, especially who are gay and lesbian, felt that way. I pray to God my children never have to feel that, that people around me don’t have to feel that. I always hope that I’m always the one person going, “If they’re upset about it, screw it. It’s your life. You can’t “not” be you. You can’t suffer just because you’re trying to make somebody else happy. That’s not a life.”

That sounds exactly like something Kelly Clarkson would say. And I wonder, as someone who has this large, far-reaching platform, what does it mean to you to be an LGBT ally, and when did you know you had the power to be one?

I always laugh at the concept that people are like, “We just love what you say; that’s why we love you,” and I’m like, “Why is everyone not like that?” That’s what boggles my mind. Why would you not say what you want to say?

(In our last interview you) asked me if my daughter or son, or any of the four, ended up being gay, how would I take that, and I’d be like, “Awesome!” Honestly, in a world that is so hateful sometimes, I don’t care where my kids find love. Hopefully with a loving and respectful and kind person, but I don’t care if they’re a boy or a girl. It just doesn’t make a damn bit of difference to me.

I do want my children to fall in love with people who are loving, but I feel like our priorities are silly-ass backwards. Like, I want to go to my friends’ parents who just don’t want to talk about it. They know, but are like, “We just can’t talk about it,” which is so demeaning to their (children’s) existence. And I want to knock on their door – I don’t, because (my friends) ask me not to (laughs) – and be like, “Do you know you’re missing out on an exceptional human because you can’t get past your own ignorance? It’s just silly to me that you want to miss out.” I want to tell them, “I didn’t have a dad and it had nothing to do with me being gay – it had to do with, he was a shitty guy. And you have the opportunity now to not be that parent and embrace your child. That’s your DNA. You love your children. What’s wrong with you?” It just makes me so mad, more so than anything.

This past June, you helped two gay fans get engaged during one of your meet-and-greets.

Oh my gosh, it was exciting. But I was nervous! Like, what if he was gonna say no?! (Laughs)

How would you live that down?

Literally, before I was like, “Wait. I do not want to be put in this situation where this guy might say no. Are you sure he’s gonna say yes?” And he goes, “Well, I hope so!” He was nervous. I probably didn’t help any. (Laughs)

Do you hope gay couples just start routinely getting engaged in front of you?

I was like, “I need to get ordained!”

For the sake of gay couples everywhere, why are you not?

I don’t know if that would be authenticated! I don’t know if people would question that! One of our friends – my husband also manages Blake Shelton – was like, “I wanna marry y’all” and I was like, “I want it to be, like, credible. You don’t actually have a following, or a church!

I have a feeling people would go to the Church of KC. 

Oh, Lord, that would be a funny church.

So, as much as I love talking about music, it’s hard not to acknowledge the screwy state of the world during interviews these days.

Yeah, everything is obviously impacted by it.

How are you? I know you’ve always stood up for what you believe in, but in this politically divisive climate, do you feel an even greater responsibility to stand up for the things that are important to you?

The hard thing for me, specifically: I always hate when people bring up, “Oh, you’re a celebrity, you shouldn’t have an opinion.” The hard thing in that for me is, I’m not just that. I’m a mother, I’m a daughter, I’m a woman. And it took a long time and a lot of women to pioneer that way for me, to even have a voice. So, for me to not use that is so disrespectful to those before me who worked so hard for it. For me to not take advantage of that seems like a cruel irony.

Why would I not voice my opinion as a mother? Why can’t I say this is a really hard time to have a 10- and 16-year-old, guys? Because I don’t know what to tell them when they hear certain things on TV.  They’re smart enough to know what’s going on. I can’t hide them from that. So, it’s a very hard time to explain things away. It’s a very hard time to have the discussion about any kind of bigotry or racism or elitism. It’s a very hard time because a lot of things are happening that are making crazy, insane, irrational moments normal, and it’s a very hard time to raise kids in that environment. Forget me even being a celebrity. As a mother – just as a mother – it’s a very hard time.

I’m glad, at least, that everything is all coming to the forefront because it’s now pointing out – like, I had no idea we had white supremacists. I have never come across people like that. Not even as a child in a small town in the South, and even then, that town has blossomed and they’re more progressive now.

It’s 2017 – why are we still having these conversations? But we’re having them because they do exist, and it’s insane. It’s insane that somebody just doesn’t go, “Oh, I’m sorry, but yeah, we don’t want that here. You should go somewhere else. This is a country of many cultures, many faiths, and open-mindedness. That is why people came here.” It’s amazing to me that we just don’t have grown-ass men and women in the public eye of politics going, “Absolutely not. I’m not even having this conversation because that’s not even OK. There’s no way to validate what just happened.”

Reflecting on all your work for RCA: Which album are you most and least proud of?

The album I’m most proud of in that whole section is the Christmas album (2013’s Wrapped in Red), and that’s just because it was 100 percent me. It was Christmas and it was OK for me to make decisions (laughs). They let (producer) Greg (Kurstin) and I do whatever we wanted, so it was a lot easier to accomplish my goal with that album.

My least favorite? Man, I mean, maybe my least favorite was my first one (2003’s Thankful). I just say that because of the experience. I was very young and very excited about making a record. It was my first time doing all of that, and it was also my first time realizing, “This is gonna be really hard because there are so many cooks in the kitchen and they don’t care that you’re not allowed to be one.” It was my first experience in the industry going, “Oh, wait, this isn’t what I thought it was gonna be like.” So my ignorance led to that and me being young and excited, I guess. Not that I don’t love the album – it’s just that I didn’t love finding that out.

Do you ever get tired of singing your first single, 2002’s “A Moment Like This”?

I never sing it! Because the song wasn’t meant for me – it was meant for the winner. I never would’ve been like, “This is a great record” (laughs). I get the moment it was for. That was the perfect song for that moment. I totally address that, but that song doesn’t fit in my tour setlist.

It still takes me back every time I hear it.

Totally. The nostalgia. For me too. It was a beautiful moment. I’m very thankful and blessed for it. But it wasn’t a song that was meant for me. They just wrote it for whomever was gonna win, so that doesn’t make me feel special. (Laughs)

With Meaning of Life, your hair on the album cover is giving me some serious Mariah vibes.

That Drew Barrymore-to-the-side-’90s vibe, yeah – it’s completely calculated. (Laughs) I literally was like, “I want the hair for this album to be talking to God.” It fits with the record. It’s so sassy and confident and diva in the best sense, and so I really wanted that ’90s hair. All my inspiration photos were of ’90s hair. Whether it’s the artwork or the music, everything on this album is influenced by the ’90s, which was my favorite time in music.

From “Since U Been Gone” on through “People Like Us” and “I Have a Dream,” your anthems have been empowering to LGBT people. What song on this album do you hope becomes the next big gay anthem?

It’s always my gay boys who come up and go, “Oh my god, I love ‘Whole Lotta Woman.’” And it’s so funny, because I’m like, that is so ironic and amazing! (Laughs)

Based solely on the track’s name, not even the fact that it’s a celebratory anthem, you can’t possibly be that surprised.

(Laughs) Honestly, I didn’t think about it! But then we performed it impromptu at the “Today” show just for the audience there in New York – not for the televised show, just for the audience – and it was so funny because all the gay boys were dancing more than anyone, even more than the women! It was so fun. It’s such a fun audience that just loves sass and confidence, and I just love being surrounded by an audience with that kind of energy.

That song definitely shut downs, once and for all, your social-media shamers. What advice do you have for LGBT people who experience the bullying that you’ve experienced?

We have a 16-year-old girl and a grown-ass woman was being horrible to her. She was just being hateful and passive-aggressive online and I had to be real with (my daughter). I said, “This is gonna happen so often, so this would be a good time to learn to take the high road. Block them or whatever you want to do to not see it, if you don’t want to see it.”

Bullying is gonna happen, so we tell our kids, “That’s gonna happen. I can’t protect you from that. There’s nothing we can do about that. There are no bullying cops.” It’s an epidemic that’s horrible and it needs to be addressed, but at the same time, when you have kids coming to you, I just have to teach her to rise above it.

It’s one of those things I always describe to fans, too, in meet-and-greets because they always ask, “How are you so confident?” It’s because, at the end of the day, I really don’t care about anyone’s opinion but mine and the people I know who love me and really do want the best for me. You can’t base your entire existence and every decision off how people are gonna feel about it. That’s a giant check list; there’s a lot of us. (Laughs) So, just be happy with your decisions, and sometimes know you’re gonna be successful and sometimes you’re gonna fail. And whatever. At least you were steering your ship.

source https://hotspotsmagazine.com/2017/11/30/kelly-clarkson-talks-artistic-liberation-confronting-anti-lgbt-parents/ from Hot Spots Magazine http://hotspotsmagazin.blogspot.com/2017/11/kelly-clarkson-talks-artistic.html

[my-dear-hammy]

Basking in Firelight-Jamilton Sequel-Part Forty Six

Masterpost

Part Forty-Six: Just Getting Started

Warnings below

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Funny thing about being elected as the first presidents of a Nation that had presidents previously is the white house was already built. There wasn't a bunch of moving around as the capital was decided. There was no watching it get built. Hamilton thought it was great they didn't have to worry about moving. Jefferson found it slightly sad. He loved watching things become something great. But he could also see all the history just under the fresh coat of paint and that history is what made it so beautiful.

Of course, that's what they thought. When someone told Jefferson that the white house would undergo renovation to accommodate the massive increase in personnel, Jefferson wouldn't allow it. All that history, gone, just to make room for eight or so more people and their cabinets? Not gonna happen. Hamilton didn't see what was so wrong with it. Out with the old, in with the new. But if someone didn't think about making sure what was happening today could be remembered tomorrow, then how much history would be lost? How much history was already lost just because people thought that no one would ever forget? Far too much. Jefferson was bent on keeping that from happening. That's why in his past life he always made copies of every single one of his letters, it's why there's so much history surrounding the birth of The United States of America, it's because it got written down.

So Jefferson insisted that the White House be preserved and instead used his own money to construct a presidential manor. A new house for a new nation, right? The best part, he got to design it himself. As much as he wanted to avoid the look and build of a mansion, there was no helping it. His first idea had been to build little cabin type designs for each member and a central building for meeting with ambassadors or cabinets, to keep it humble and simple. But Jefferson realized how inconvenient that would be. Imagine all the running around. No, everything had to be centralized which meant that Jefferson would be stuck with a mansion design after all.

He could still do a lot with that.

In the meantime, they made the White House work. There were plenty of guest rooms. Jefferson didn't fully understand why the White wouldn't be suitable even without the renovations, but Hamilton insisted that it be either renovated or they moved. So Jefferson chose they move.

Hamilton was surprised by how easy being president was. There was nothing to do. Literally. He spent his time wandering the rooms. Jefferson had been saying there'd be so much stress, yet here they were, bored out of their minds. Where was Jefferson anyway? After a ten minute hunt, Hamilton found him sitting in the oval office, looking over paperwork. "Is that something we need to take care of?" Hamilton asked, excited that there was work for him to do.

"No, not for you anyway. These are the floor plans for the Presidential Manor."

"Oh, I forgot you were designing that yourself. Are you going to put in gardens?"

"Who in their right mind wouldn't?"

"Just asking, jeez." Hamilton looked around the office. "So, I thought you said this would be stressful and time-consuming."

Jefferson looked up at him.  "Hamilton, the government just started up. You have to give it a few days. Last time was hectic because of all the issues that were glaringly obvious. In a couple days, Congress will put forward plans for commerce and laws that become evident as time passes. This time around there's no constant debate about slavery, thank God, and you and I don't have to fight over financial systems. That's not even your job anymore. I'm sure by the end of the week we'll be so swamped with paperwork that we won't be able to see the door. Besides, we can't get started until the rest of the elections are over. We still have to wait for our vice presidents."

"I bet the financial plan need reviewing. I should look it over."

"That's your treasurer's job, Hamilton. Now can you leave me alone so I can work on this, I'd like to have the plans finished before the flood of paper so we can actually get started on the Manor."

"I need something to do, I can't just sit around and twiddle my thumbs," Hamilton protested. "Who do you think is going to be vice?"

"Well, Washington retired and went home. I'll bet Madison Burr will be two of them."

"Yeah? What about the other two? I bet Lafayette could get a position."

"Can you imagine if Adams ended up being your vice?" Jefferson laughed.

"No-" Hamilton's eyes went wide. Jefferson was full on cackling. "Not going to happen. Nope. Nope."

"It's fully within the realm of possibility. You're in the same party, yeah? Very likely. At this point, I'd be surprised if it didn't."

"Yeah, well, you'll have to deal with fucking Burr. Remember how well that went the first time?"

"Shit."

"Yeah. So fuck off."

***

Ends up, they were pretty spot on for elections. Madison and Burr were Jefferson's vice presidents, Hamilton's was Adams, and to both Jefferson's and Hamilton's surprise and pleasure, Angelica was Hamilton's other vice.

Jefferson was right. Hamilton was swamped with work. Jefferson and Hamilton were running back and forth to each other's office every five seconds to get a signature or steal some important document or discuss something. Right now, they were dealing with the aftermath of the war. The nation was bankrupt thanks to the oligarchy and King George's taste for extravagance. There were small uprisings of Govey loyalists to deal with. King George disappeared and went into hiding as soon as the word spread if the Rebel victory. He still had to be found. Commerce had to be renegotiated and reestablished with other nations since the Eastern States was technically a new nation now, so all old treaties and agreements were void. That meant ambassadors had to be nominated and approved and then funded to be sent overseas. The infrastructure of the government had to be completely rebuilt from the ground up. That was the part of the government that dealt with building roads and cities and buildings. Keeping everything up and running. Electricity, power, gas, water, tram systems, licenses, everything. It all collapsed in the war and is nearly impossible to rebuild.

Unless you've got deep pockets. Deep deep pockets. Something the government didn't have.

It didn't help that Jefferson and Hamilton argued over everything. Jefferson was constantly worried about Hamilton proposing another financial plan like the one before. Jefferson fought against it the first time because he predicted that from it would spring corporations that would grow powerful enough to slowly turn the Republican form of government into an aristocracy or monarchy. And was mostly right. Look around at the world around you. Corporations control everything. Jefferson bitterly regretted the day he and Madison traded it for the capital.  But they would need a system for raising money and fast. If they didn't come up with anything soon, the nation could fall apart as it spiraled into depression.

Hamilton also wanted to use the military to squash the Govey resistance. Jefferson had to remind him daily that they were citizens and had every right to protest the government as long as they didn't endanger the nation and her people. Hamilton wasn't happy. He didn't like being slandered by the press. Every time something was published about him and his past affairs or supposed new ones or any awful slander people could come up with to rake his name through the mud, Hamilton was always right there with a sharp and barbed response, defending his honor. That's always been his weakness. The ones put against Jefferson went ignored. The people could say whatever they wanted, he wasn't going to dignify schoolyard taunts with a response.

"We should think of a flag redesign," Hamilton said one day, walking into Jefferson's office, plopping into a chair and kicking his feet onto the desk.

Jefferson eyed Hamilton's feet, debating whether or not to push them off and risk scattering his papers everywhere or leave them be. He really didn't feel like having re-sort his papers again, so he let them be. "A new flag?"

"Yeah. We're getting a new Manor, new government, new treaties, probably a new name when someone thinks of one. Why not a flag?"

"I suppose, but we already have so much to do," Jefferson sighed, looking at his desk and the tall stacks of files.

"So, we do what the old government did before the oligarchy was formed all those decades ago. Make it a contest. Anyone can participate. All the designs are sent in and we can decide from there."

"That's still a lot of work, Hamilton. Work we don't have time for."

"Nonsense. Pull a couple all nighters and we'll be good. Just drink some coffee."

"Hamilton," Jefferson rubbed his face tiredly, "we've both already been up for three days straight. We literally walk into each other in the hallway and stand there confused about it for a minute until we realize we were heading to the other's office. I don't think our bodies can take much more sleepless nights."

"More coffee."

Jefferson hit his head against the desk. "Fine. Let's run it by Congress."

"Great!" Hamilton jumped to his feet, "I'll do that right away" he dashed out of the office, nearly running into the door on his way out.

Dear God, that man was going to be the death of Jefferson

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Warnings: None?