try again fail again fail better
A note from the Indivisible Team
A note for all of us who feel defeated after Sessions from the Indivisible Team: This is the long game.

A note for all of us who feel defeated after Sessions from the Indivisible Team: This is the long game. We are going to lose a lot. We are going to get good at losing. We are going to lose cabinet votes for terrible nominees. We are going to lose bills that are offensive and appalling. But while we are losing, something else is going to happen. We are going to keep raising our voices and slowly our representatives are going to start listening to us. We’ve seen it happen. 

It won’t happen because of next week’s call to action. It’ll happen over months, where you keep showing up, regularly. Then, we are going to start winning. It’ll sneak up on us. We won’t understand why we are winning. But it starts with losing in a particular way- where we raise our voices and call it out when we aren’t listened to, where we get close but not quite there.

The first 100 days of a President’s term are the honeymoon period, the moment when he’s most likely to get his agenda enacted. Trump is spending his first 100 days mired in controversy, scandal, and backbiting - and that’s because you haven’t for a moment let anyone in Washington forget just how unpopular he is.

Every time we change the narrative, every time we delay, every time there’s a newspaper story about a member of Congress avoiding his or her constituents, that’s a win. And it matters.

You have already made history. You’ve delayed the confirmation of Trump’s cabinet picks longer than any time in recent history. You stopped the gutting on the congressional ethics office. You’ve made Republicans so nervous about the repeal of the Affordable Care Act that it’s been pushed further and further down the road. You caused an uproar of historic proportions over Trump’s Muslim ban and saved lives and reunited families in the process. You’ve inspired people who have never before taken action to make their voices heard and learn how to do things like check how their members of Congress voted and call them out for it.

We’ll never even know about some of the victories - because those will be the fights that this Administration considered starting and then realized it couldn’t win.

We’re in this together. Every visit. Every call. Every loss. Every win. That’s just what friends do. #StandIndivisible

In solidarity,

The Indivisible Team

I love drawing tiny pixel pokemon (~‾⌣‾)~

I made sticker sets on redbubble from these because I’m gonna get myself a few so you can too  


Try again. Fail again. Fail better.

Lately I’ve been really enjoying watercolour. The ‘messy’ aspect of it is quite fun and relaxing.

Supplies: pen

Dreaming of Past and Future Days (Fanfic)

Dreaming of Past and Future Days

My first Outlander fanfic! Don’t really know what will come of it. It’s AU in the sense that it begins in the premise that Claire went back though the stones when she ran and therefore was never captured by the British and sent to Fort William. It follows the plot as it was in the series, not the book. Here it goes!

Part I

I grew up without a place.

When I was a young girl that carried little weight to me. I had Uncle Lamb, our travels, a world without end. But slowly as I grew up and particularly as I became a woman, I started to feel within me a deep yearning to settle, to have a family of my very own, and to let roots grow in one place. I craved to belong.

I think that was the main thing that attracted me to Frank. He was a man, not a boy, and with him came the promise of a lifetime together, a place forever by his side, children with brown eyes and a house to spend Christmas in. I was very much in love with him, and the idea of a life with him, by our third date.

But what I’ve come to know is this: there is a place where I belong more than the life that was so real to me before. And that is the place I ought to be.


I came through the stones feeling that my head was an inch away from getting crushed. The buzzing sound erased all other things filling me with dread. I was face down on the mud and couldn’t care less. It seems the mere existence of time was irrelevant.

When I finally came to my senses in the middle of the stone circle at Craigh na Dun and regain the ability to walk I started towards Inverness and the life I had left behind.

The following days seem to blur in my memory. I know I went to Reverend Wakefield’s house and I can remember his face when he saw me. I might as well have been a ghost on Samhain. He called Frank on the telephone and I slept. This much I know – I escaped an unknown future and all the sorrow that was looming over me and embraced a dreamless darkness. Before I went to sleep I burned the clothes that I was wearing, proof of something I was very willing to deny at the time. Reverend Wakefield knew better than to ask questions.

When Frank arrived I was sitting in the living room staring at the window, each fiber of me trying to be stitched back together in one coherent Claire Randall. He opened the door and ran to take me in his arms, a joyful scream caught in this throat. He hugged me and kissed me, mouth, temples, cheeks, hair. He was crying and I don’t think I ever saw him crying…well at least not before that day. I was happy to see him but all my body felt strangely numb. He made the fatal question, the one I was preparing myself all that time to answer.

“Where were you? What happened?” He asked, unable to stop touching me in every inch of skin he could get to.

“I…I went to the stone circle to look up some plants. And then I had this freak accident… I hit my head and when I woke up I couldn’t remember anything.” I licked my dry and numbed lips and fixed a point just above his shoulder to talk to. It was harder to lie staring at his eyes.

“I didn’t know who I was or what I was doing there. I didn’t remember you…sorry. So I wonder off.”

“To where?” He sounded shocked.

“A lot of places. I was still good at nursing so I did a little bit of that.” I added. I was trying to be evasive and keeping it simple because I was never that good on bending the truth and was very afraid that he could see right through me.

“Yesterday I woke up and just had all these memories back and so I came here looking for you.” I finished with a weak smile. I peeked at the Reverend who was very overtly avoiding my gaze. He had seen the clothes I was in when I arrived and therefore knew I was not being absolutely sincere.

“That is quite a story my love. You had me sick with worrying!” He rubbed my hands and found the foreign metal touch of my silver ring. “What is that?”

“Oh…!” I swallowed a scream. I hadn’t tought about that. “Found it in the circle back then and had it on all this time. Didn’t know if it was meaningful or not.” I protectively covered the ring with my hand. Don’t think about it know, Beauchamp.

The historian in Frank couldn’t let go. “It looks rather ancient, doesn’t it? Very rudimental.”

“I guess so, yes.” I smiled weakly.

He asked more questions and I kept the answers short and vague, my mind still having trouble to adjust to the new (or old?) surroundings. I knew he was relieved beyond words, although my tale was something out of a novella.

As Frank was out arranging our trip to London I went to the back garden, seeking the peace plants and nature could always give me. Reverend Wakefield followed me outside and sat next to me in the grass, in silence, for quite some time. Then he said “Wherever you were, are you sure you’re back? Professor Randall suffered a great deal when you were…away. Are you here now?” He spoke with the softer of voices, almost a whisper.

“I’m here.” I said and shut my eyes against the soft touch of the Scottish sun. I didn’t know if I was, to be sure. But I wanted to be. It had been my choice. I just needed time to adjust, I thought. I was so tired.

We went home later that day. Or at least to the flat Frank now called home. He talked during the journey and I tried to listen and make some interested remarks. He kept saying that our life started now anew, everything will be better from now on. I wished it ardently to be so.

When we arrived I took a bath with running water, something I had dreamt about countless times during my stay at Leoch. Leoch. I started to think about the castle, Mrs.Fitz, Collum, Dougal, Ned…Jamie. I felt shattered, like a ship after a mighty storm and a wreck, and couldn’t find the strength to let my emotions and thoughts run free. I put my heart in a vault and locked it away for some time.

When Frank came to bed he touched me lightly, a question of the flesh, and for the first time in my shared life with him, I pretended to be asleep.

The next day Frank had some classes he couldn’t miss and I was left to my own devices. I walked for hours in the street, absorbing all life in the twentieth century had to offer, trying to find joy in little things. I chose to be there. It was my time, my place, my people. I had my life back and Frank. My husband. I should be filled with happiness.

I brushed with a tall red-haired man on Piccadilly and my stomach crumped in a tight ball. “He is in the past Beauchamp, twice over, get a fucking grip!” I reprimand myself. It was taking me more time than I have presumed to come to my senses.

I went home, put on a brave face and made dinner, determined to mend my relationship with my husband.

That night Frank made love to me.

I came to bed after brushing my always stubborn hair and he was already there, waiting for me. He turned to me in silence and took my mouth with a desperation that was somewhat overwhelming. In that moment I couldn’t think of a reason not to let him do as he wished and so I laid there as he took my body, trying so hard not to think at all, to be lost in a moment of pure release that could quell all my doubts. During all the years we’ve spent together our encounters were always satisfying and filled with passion. Frank was as refined and methodic in love as he was in his studies. He always managed to rouse me to him and filled me with a burning desire.

But this time only a shell was there. I tried desperately to seek oblivion, to be in the moment there with him or at least to be lost in him, and couldn’t. My body didn’t rouse to him. In fact, I was for the first time wishing the sex to be over and to seek the peacefulness of deep sleep.

During the war we had spent years apart with only brief rendez-vous to remind us of the meaning of our marriage. And still I never felt him so much a stranger as I did that night. Could it be that some months have changed us more than years of battlefields?

When he reached his release he looked me very close in the eyes and I was afraid he could see there how torn I was.

“I love you, Claire.” He said tenderly. My eyes started tearing up and so I closed them and softly kissed his lips.

Afterwards he was asleep and I tried to join him there without success. I rolled in bed for what seemed like hours, my body aching for something I could not quite comprehend. When I finally came to sleep was almost morning.

That was the first time I dreamt about Jamie.

“Ever tried, ever failed. No matter. Try again, fail again. Fail better.” 

In which Hux helps Kylo find his feet again after a series of failed missions.