#i think diana duane

[alexaloraetheris]

Any moderately famous writer of their day: *living life and trying to write*

Diana Wayne Jones, at literally any age, spotting them while NOT writing:

Obsessed with the fact that this really happened😳

[ibrithir-was-here]

How the heck is there not more talk about Tanith Lee??

Like my gosh, the woman wrote, according to her wiki, 90 books, over 300 short stories, two World Fantasy Awards, and was the first woman to win the British Fantasy Award/Augus Derleth Award and wrote for tv shows.

Like, it's not like she just wrote a heck ton but wasn't very good! She was clearly very good she won awards, and i've read a swath of her stuff across different genres and really enjoyed most of it. I mean that even if not each one has been my cup of tea I can at least appreciate the skill and quite a lot I have truly enjoyed. She's got great prose and style and imagination. Not everything obviously was a banger, but they've all been at least well written, which is harder to come by in writing than you might think.

But nobody ever seems to talk about her?? And I feel like the fantasy crowd on here would really enjoy her stuff. The woman has done stuff in pretty much every genre from what I can see, but I never see her listed on fantasy authors like Clive Barker or Diana Wynne Jones or Neil Gaiman or Terry Pratchett or Diane Duane even though she was writing at the same time and has a similar sort of '80s Doing Cool Stuff with Fantasy vibe' I feel like people who like those authors would enjoy though she's very much her own style of author.

Anyway this was really just me putting out a rant that such a prolific and talented author seems to have fallen by the wayside and I think it's really a shame

Heck she even did a witch-queen fighting againt vampire Snow White a whole decade before Neil Gaiman did his phenomenal Snow Glass Apples and it's also excellent, give a look here:

[fredwkong]

Who are your writing inspirations?

Good question from a good boy! Here, have a worksheet to fill out while I think about this. It'll be hot, I promise ;)

In the tf community, my entry point was finding @takeovertales years and years ago. I also really admire @aardvarkia, and the Craftsman and Mr. Cavanaugh were huge influences on my tf writing. Derek Williams and Cris Kane (links to their pages on GaySpiralStories) are huge influences on my tf writing and interests as well. Jockhole Transformations by Abra Cadabra on Nifty rewired my brain. In terms of art that inspires me, you can't go wrong with theobromic's transformation sequences.

Beyond the tf community, I really admire the writing of Diane Duane and Diana Wynne Jones. N.K. Jemisin also influences my work a lot. I wish that I could write like Ursula K. Le Guin. I actually don't read very much published erotica, but I'll be first in line if someone in the tf community gets a book deal.

Did you finish that homework I gave you? The Perfect Guy... poor handwriting, punk music, favourite colour blue, short blue hair, green eyes, pale skin, lots of hair, short beard, smokey voice, slender mesomorph, punk-ass clothes or nothing at all, big penis, no underwear, gay slut, total dummy. Hello, perfect guy, welcome to your new life.

[parker-d-bloodrose]

oh shit I just realized Diane Duane is the lady who wrote this fucking book that's been haunting me since I forgot the title of it all those years ago - "So You Want to be A Wizard". I read it in elementary school around the same time as I was reading a lot of Diana Wynne Jones and T. A. Barron. Come to think of it, I definitely had a wizard phase as a child.

[yawneneteyam]

I hope you feel better right now!! As for the ideas for next atc chapter, I was thinking about maybe them going somewhere? Like a cofee but neither of them is sure if its a date? Or maybe a press conference or interview?

As for idea with cofee date, i love when two characters tries to navigate at the very beggining of a relationship and the interviews would be interesting to read hahah

I loove this series!!

THE DATE-NON-DATE IS SUPERIOR!! We’ve got LOTS of these coming, Diana and I have been brainstorming some lil ideas for their time together!!

Queue duane and filip trying to get info from the other person on how it went, if it was a date, etc

[bookaddict24-7]

REVIEWS OF THE WEEK!

EVERY WEEK I WILL POST VARIOUS REVIEWS I’VE WRITTEN SO FAR IN 2024. YOU CAN CHECK OUT MY GOODREADS FOR MORE UP-TO-DATE REVIEWS HERE.

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119. Delinquent Daddy & Tender Teacher, Vol. 2 by Tama Mizuki--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

The way this series has a chokehold on me. The adorable little kid? The heartwarming relationship between the characters? The slowly increasing seriousness of their relationship? Please, this is both the cutest and sweetest series.

This was also surprisingly...spicy? I was not expecting that LOL.

I also thought the way Mizuki marked the passing of time by seasons was really smart and well-done. It also helped set the pace of the relationship between the two MCs.

I can't believe we only have three volumes out physically in North America 🙃

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120. Delinquent Daddy & Tender Teacher, Vol. 3 by Tama Mizuki--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Omg I love seeing the jealousy in this one because it helps bring to light some of the insecurities so the main couple can have solid communication about it all. I love these two because even though they get frustrated or hurt, they always manage to talk things out. I also loved the introduction of another set of characters and a new situation that proves to both be challenging for the little one, but also a chance to further showcase how much these characters care for each other.

I do like that one of them, despite his fears, was able to set his boundaries so well. I think that was pretty well done, as opposed to a few other storylines I've seen where everything happens so quickly and it's like boundaries don't even exist or matter.

I honestly need more. I want to devour everything this author brings us with this series.

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121. Murder Road by Simone St. James--⭐️⭐️⭐️

While Simone St. James is definitely an auto-read for me (I still haven't read her older stuff, but don't judge me too much, please), sometimes her books can really be a hit or miss.

MURDER ROAD is a story that kind of sits in the middle for me. It was...okay? And I kind of wanted it to end by the time I reached around the 70% mark. The mystery itself was intriguing and I loved that twist of this being set in the 90s (those comments about Princess Diana and Kurt Cobain threw me the hell off and I kept thinking "Who's gonna tell her?"). The twists were good and so were each of the reveals.

The thing is that something about this book just...felt off to me. I think it was just very slowly paced. The story starts off strong and metaphorically punches the reader, but then it just kind of...enters this moment in the story where it's both frustrating and drags on a bit.

I'd still recommend this to thriller fans, since I can definitely see this grabbing a thriller addict's attention, but I do wish the book had kept that same energy of the beginning all the way through the book.

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122. Deep Wizardry by Diane Duane--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I think DEEP WIZARDRY was better than the first book. While it still had some of the confusing magical math that the first book had, it wasn't as dense. We still got to see a lot of the magic at play, especially when the kids find themselves in a dangerous ocean.

This book also gave me heavy A WRINKLE IN TIME vibes. I think if this book was on today's book cases, it would be a pretty strong seller. It has the friendship goals of two young magicians, skeptical parents, and the wild adventures that kids are somehow surviving when we know in real life, adults wouldn't survive.

This also did have some creepy moments, especially when we meet some of the characters.

Okay, will be attacking book three soon!

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123. Dead Reckoning by Charlaine Harris--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I spoiled myself for who Sookie ends up with and while I was disappointed, I HAVE enjoyed seeing her navigate her relationships. DEAD RECKONING doesn't disappoint as we learn some truths about Sookie's relationship and the heartbreaking reality of her situation.

One of my favourite things about this series, now that I'm one step closer to finishing, is how much Sookie has grown as a character. Thinking of how she was in book one in comparison to her now is wild. Her naive nature has changed and she is much more aware of her humanity and fragility. She is also more aware of the people around her and how her actions affect those she loves.

This instalment also tackles a situation that has been brewing for several books and it had a very, very satisfying conclusion. I'm also now very curious about what's happening with a few certain people in Sookie's life.

I'm excited to get to the next book because I'm so, so close to the end!

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124. Stay Out of the Basement by R.L. Stine--⭐️⭐️⭐️

STAY OUT OF THE BASEMENT was entertaining for what it was--especially since the concept of plants becoming self-aware and actively trying to get humans is a creepy topic. The story itself was entertaining and less frustrating than other GOOSEBUMPS titles.

There is some language in this that are very reminiscent of the 90's blasé way of speaking. Calling a kid "Fatso" because she's skinny, and having that girl make her younger brother by one year sandwiches every time he was hungry were a couple of the things that threw me off. I don't even know how many times I asked myself "Doesn't this kid know how to make himself a peanut butter sandwich? She's eleven and he's ten..."

Anyway, another classic GOOSEBUMPS bites the dust.

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Have you read any of these books? What were your thoughts?

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Happy reading!

[askeataiho]

Thanks for the tag @pastlink

Comfort film: Rogue One.  I don’t watch movies much. But I’ll watch the part from when the shields around the planet close until the end over and over when in need of something to watch when stressed.

Comfort food: My homemade veggie burgers, nachos, chocolate waffles with ice cream.

Comfort clothes: Most of my every day clothing.  I hate wearing clothes that are different.  So most of my wardrobe is T-shirts and black almost-jeans that are all comfortable.  Don’t really have specific comfort clothes.  I used to have a few T-shirts that I liked for exams that said things like “Eat the Rude” (a Hannibal shirt), or “I am a Lion from the North” (a Sabaton shirt.)  Not quite comfort though 😂

Comfort song: Only the Music by Heather Alexander, Affirmation by Savage Garden.  Actually usually when really stressed I’ll listen to the same song over and over but it will be something pretty random.  These two are for moderate stress and need for comfort.

Comfort book: For comfort reads I like short stories.  “Uptown Local” by Diane Duane is the main one, but also “Seasons of the Ansarac” by Ursual K. Le Guin and a few others.  For whole books, much of Diane Duane’s and Diana Wynne Jones works.

Comfort game: A lot of the Fire Emblem games (they’re 90% of what I play).  Also: Civ V, Zoo Tycoon, Sims 3.

I think almost everyone I’ve seen tagged already or has done it already um @lnights @alexgersher ?

[stesierra]

Dude, you think I liked something popular? I was a Diana Wynne Jones kid and a Redwall kid and a Forgotten Realms kid. When I read the first Harry Potter I got mad no one had heard of Diane Duane.

[kikithepink]

This is from a reader's perspective. I'm a 46 year old woman, born in 1977. So it was 1990 when I hit 13 years old. There was a young adult section in our local Walden Books. My parents used to spoil me with trips to the book shop like every week.

I remember it being filled with a lot of teen drama books (think "My Sister's Keeper" and "Are You There God, It's Me Margaret" type stuff). But there was a decent amount of horror and fantasy in there too. I remember Diane Duane, Diana Wynne Jones, L. J. Smith and Christopher Pike stuff in there.

YA did exist before Harry Potter. But it probably wasn't as mainstream as it was before Harry Potter And The Boom In Nerd Culture happened.

So, like, the thing you have to understand is that prior to the mid-2000s, the "Young Adult" genre as we now know it didn't exist. The expectation was that you would graduate to the adult aisle of the book store at, like, 13-14. This worked because the only people still reading long form novels into their teens were precocious bookworms who were better read than their parents.

Harry Potter changed all this. The success of the Harry Potter books convinced the publishing industry that selling full length novels to normie children was a business model. The thing about the Harry Potter books, though, is that at least for the early books, the target audience was a bit younger than what we think of as the YA demographic; tweens, rather than teens. Now, the publishing very much wanted to keep all these normie kids buying books into their teens and beyond, but the previous model of treating teens as functionally adults for marketing purposes would not work; there was simply no way that normie parents were going to let their normie kids read fully adult novels where the characters, like, do drugs or have unprotected sex and stuff. So, in order to be allowed to market to the teen demographic, the YA genre was created.

However, teens have an inherent interest in reading about sex and violence and drugs, and so authors who are able to incorporate these kinds of themes into their YA novels in a discrete way such that it flies under the radar of the moral guardians are met with success. But this is a precarious tightrope to walk. Not enough "mature" themes and the teens will loose interest, to much or to blatant and the teens won't be allowed to read it. And so, it should come as no surprise, that the first person to successfully navigate this tight rope was a Mormon housewife with a vampire fetish.

[xcziel]

get to know me

tagged by @vishcount (thank you!!) and i'll follow her format bc making two posts seems a little much - i'm not that interesting!!

(hilariously, this post shows up as blocked for me bc of the tag 'joker' which? tumblr?????)

Part I

name: i'm an internet old, so i never use my real name online, mainly because it's spelled in a very unique way (thanks mom & dad) - i mean like, if you googled it you could find my home address in a few seconds kind of unique - but also, though i do enjoy the spelling, i actually don't like it very much when it's said out loud? (is it weird that my name written down is 'me', but my name aloud has never felt like 'me'?) always wanted a nickname but never acquired one :/

at any rate, i've had the username xcziel forever and i go by that 😊 (pronounced ex-SEE-zee-el, similar to etc. or ex-SET-er-ah! thanks @xia-xueyi for pointing out that it can be confusing to guess!)

rest behind a cut because it got long!

pronouns: she/her

star sign: i don't ... really *do* astrology? but technically saggitarius

height: 5'4" (162.5cm for the intl folks)

time: 5:43pm but these thing take me forever to type out so ... ???

birthday: playing the 'internet old' card again .. but it floats around american Thanksgiving depending on the year

nationality: american

fave bands/groups/solo artists: lumping these together because i just .. don't really do music much anymore. if you had asked me this back in my 20s i'm sure i would have had all kinds of opinions and things to share, but these days i actually mostly prefer to listen music from when i was a kid. part of it is also that as an old, i prefer to buy my music, even digitally, and i don't really use spotify - which does so much to enable diverse music exploration i admit! but i mostly have earplugs in all the time and music does not work for me as background noise, so...

so i guess my answer would be 70s disco and classic rock and 80s new wave artists? i've never liked any artist's entire discography and prefer greatest hits-type compilations, but i guess duran duran and def leppard and depeche mode would be considered formative? i love new order but specifically late 80s new order, NOT joy division. the only concert t-shirt i've ever worn was the cult? i loved sonic temple but i can't listen to most of it anymore though i still adore love removal machine. i think maybe if you get old enough, for some of us there's TOO MUCH good music and we can't pare it down anymore

song stuck in your head: jamiroquai's canned heat

last movie you watched: re: the above, i re-watched center stage, the 2000 one with zoe saldana and the mandy moore soundtrack, bc it's a happy comfort movie and i just got a digital version

last show you binged: i can't really "binge" very often bc after a couple of hours i need a break, so i guess i'd say the tgcf donghua on netflix since it was short enough to get through all in one go

when you created your blog: in 2012 i stopped lurking so i could post about the avengers movie

the last thing you googled: 5'4" in cm? lol before that it was chinese wrapped street food

other blogs: everything is here! i discovered i compartmentalize about as well as i tag reliably (😓) but i do have several automated ao3feed-tag style sideblogs. and i did, very briefly, have a *winces* hockey sideblog too

why i chose my url: ooh i know i've done this before, sorry if it's repetitive, basically it was the username i picked back when my family first got aol: short, unique combo of letters - 14-year-old me really thought about it! and then it wouldn't let me use anything other than my name. thirty-some-odd years later, trying to come up with a livejournal username that wasn't already taken and getting fed up, i plugged it in and went: good enough!

how many people are you following: like 760-something last i checked? although many, many, many of them are deactivated

how many followers do you have: idk i don't like looking at that stuff, but way fewer than i am following

average hours of sleep: it varies too much day by day, my sleep schedule is too wonky, i have no idea what the average would be

lucky numbers: 7? cliché i know, and again not really buying into it, but somewhere in my hindbrain i like it that my first, middle, and last names all have seven letters

instruments: none. i like singing

what i'm currently wearing: giant black t-shirt and baggy black drawstring shorts, standard sitting around the house gear

dream job: don't have one. if i did it would give me something to be working towards *sigh* this is how you end up in retail for decades, kids! but also, to quote a random post i saw in true tumblr fashion "i simply do not dream of labor"

dream trip: covered this one before but: back to the uk and some railway daytrips, or a really fancy northern cruise, atlantic/pacific either one

fave food: uhhh, don't really have a favorite but i'm almost always in the mood for pizza

top three fictional universe you'd like to live in: none really, if i had to still be me..maybe some kind of actually utopian future? but the pandemic has confirmed for me that i do NOT like living in interesting times, so most fictional story universes are RIGHT out. my favorites to read about like discworld or diana wynne jones' worlds would be way to chaotic for my comfort. possibly diane duane's young wizards universe would be safe enough to be okay?

Part II

last song: watching center stage made me think of my dance playlist so sunrise by simply red

last movielast stream: i don't watch streams or youtube often, so it was the same as you, vish! liu chang's birthday stream was SO enjoyable i screenrecorded the entire thing just so i could play it back (and maybe gif sometime if i ever get the drive to actually do it)

currently reading: well i just finished the translated quan qiu gao kao or global university entrance exam novel, which was sparked purely from catching a single rec post here on tumblr and basically just *falling* into this 166 chapter epic that is *amazing* and not coming up for air until i got to the end, which is typical novel-reading behavior for me (yes i was the kid who read through lunch period and got hassled by people who kept pestering me with "what're you reading" questions and yes i realize probably a lot of you on tumblr were too) plus, the new murderbot novel is out tomorrow!!!!! so that'll be where i end up next!

currently watching: the entire dmbj verse (that i can get my hands on) but ... sporadically and stopping at random different parts because the thing is ... this type of show is not really the kind i enjoy so much? so since it's more for "research" and learning character arcs (and let's be honest: shots of liu sang), etc. it's easy to get distracted by other stuff. i'm also watching the sleuth of the ming dynasty, mr queen, bromance, the expanse, re-watching farscape and stargate sg-1, just finished the falcon and the winter soldier, and then anytime something new and short gets introduced it jumps the queue. there are just. so. many. things. to. watch! (now i have to look into anti-fraud league too!? you all are cruel ...)

what is antipoetry to you: i ... don't really think much about poetry? i know what i prefer is usually the more basic rhymed kind like lewis carroll, emily dickinson, poe, coleridge, etc. so i suppose i don't have much use for classifying non-rhyming verse? i can appreciate stuff like rupi kaur which i guess would qualify? or that william carlos williams plums poem? but it doesn't really stick with me the way lyric-like verse does

currently craving: i never know what exactly this is meant to be in reference to ... hmmm, i would love a new high-concept, high production-quality movie like say, pacific rim, to be released, just for that massive, excited energy that comes with something new that hasn't already got tons of disappointing or conflicting history behind it - that would be so fun!!

other than that, right now, i mostly kinda want some fried fish? but that will have to wait until i go to get my second vaccine shot on wednesday since it's on the way there. i'd also like my internal body parts to settle down and fly right but it's been more than a month and they don't seem inclined :(((( maybe once i'm fully vaxxed i'll think about consulting somebody about it

tagging @foxofninetales @xia-xueyi @momosandlemonsoda @memorydragon @thewindsofsong @elvencantation @mylastbraincql @hesayshesgotboyfriend @aurawolfgirl2000 @smaragdine-galaxy and anyone who wants to! but never feel obligated and if you don't get around to it for like half a year that's totally fine, i am still interested!!!

[micrathene-w]

Ari & Duane’s Wedding Outtakes! (a.k.a. LZC Outtakes 15)

...oh lordy, the outtakes from this event! 🤣 Most of them were just chance facial expressions, but still.

Top Row L: Okay, since you can’t hold weddings with invited guests on Generic lots, I had to turn the lot into a Park lot (because if it’s a lounge, you get people turning up looking for drinkies). I figured, no problemo - I’ll put a basement under the chapel, and put the required “park” stuff down there - with no stairs or door.

Then I thought... uh oh, but what about the townies who will inevitably show up wanting to use this new “park” and will get in the way of my pictures?  >,<  And I came up with A Plan. (Never said it was a GOOD plan.)  I gave the basement two cots, two bathrooms complete with showers and unbreakable toilets, a mini-fridge, even a coffeemaker, and three desks with unbreakable computers. Then I temporarily moved a female townie into Diana’s household and teleported her into the basement. As anybody not invited to the wedding showed up to the lot, I’d pause, switch control to The Temp, and use MCCC to teleport them into the basement. All their needs taken care of, and no photo-bombing! Except by Luna and that’s another story...

By the time the ceremony really got underway, I had Mitchell Kalani’s wife (in the “homeless Sim’ uniform), 3/4 of the Charm Household (Minerva, Gemma and Emilia all thought it’d be fine to invite themselves to the private wedding), another randomly generated Spellcaster, and three townie kids down there. The Park-crashers almost outnumbered the legit wedding folks!

Top Row R:  One of the tables up front has this fountain on it. When Selene went off on her own to the side, it looked like she was staring at this thing trying to figure out how to tip it off the table and use it for a percussion instrument. XD

Center Row L: Nani wants to marry Phoebe’s cake! At the same time, Simeon was checking out Liliana’s backside. ‘Nuff said.

Center Row R:  Liliana decided to ‘stake her claim’ with all these ladies around. *cough*Too late Lil, but don’t worry - she’s done with him*cough*

Bottom Row L: Simeon’s “...you couldn’t have married a Spellcaster, baby girl?!” RBF here just cracked me up. Simeon darlin’, if Duane’s interested, Ari can give him the Rite of Ascension. Chill out.

Bottom Row R: “Who Wore It Better: Wedding Edition” ...?  While it looks like Nani is giving Diana the “Bish HOW DARE?!” look because The Watcher forgot who wears what for formal wear (or semi-formal in this case), she was actually giving Makoa the stink-eye; he was just past Diana off-screen. I think Nani and Luna are having the same “phase” of hating to be around family members; they were both tense as heckie during the event.

[zelda-ffitzgerald]

Duan and Craig absolutely should have backed off from the twins. Especially Cole since he caused so much damage to her friends. Diana was messed up bad over him (at least it seemed on her social media), we all know about Bree and can connect dots with lili. That they support them still is gross so no matter how happy and or decent they come off as a couple. I still think they are terrible for not taking a stand.

[elcctra]

hi! i hope i'm not bothering you but do you have any recs for biographies/documentaries on ancient rome?

Don’t worry, you’re not bothering me at all! I love to talk about the romans lmao

This is going to focus heavily on the late republic and early empire (mostly julio-claudians) because that’s what I’m interested in and I don’t feel comfortable enough to give recs for other periods of time. Hope you find them sufficient, though!

Non-fiction books:

Kicking off with the Punic Wars, Adrian Goldsworthy has a huge, detailed but still readable work on it, The Punic Wars. It has a heavy focus on the military aspect of things, so expect lots of battles, but you can still see some of the personality of the main players shine through it. My favorite part is actually the one that talks about the socio-economic impact the wars had on roman society, because it helps to explain all the shit that is about to happen.

Mike Duncan, best known for his podcast The History of Rome (highly recommended by the people who listen to it, but I don’t have patience for podcasts lol) has his The Storm Before the Storm: The Beginning of the End of the Roman Republic. Covers the Gracchi brothers, the Social War in Italy and the careers and later conflict of Marius and Sulla. Good stuff! I especially like his analysis of the neverending conflict between the more conservative forces of the Senate and the natural changes that needed to happen with the empire growing.

Starting with the biographies now, I’m not really interested in Julius Caesar, but him being such a big figure, I find it hard not to include something about him. The two biographies I see mentioned more often are Philip Freeman’s Julius Caeasar and Adrian Goldsworthy’s Caesar: Life of a Colossus. Haven’t read either but I guess they are good.

Anthony Everitt is really really readable. I think that Cicero: The Life and Times of Rome’s Greatest Politician is a must read, not only because I love Cicero (though I do lol) but because Cicero had such a long career and interacted with pretty much all the great men of his age (him being a great man himself) and many minor ones too (yes I’m talking about the loml Marcus Caelius Rufus) so you get a pretty complete portrayal of the fall of the Republic. Other than this, his biography on Augustus, Augustus: The Life of Rome’s First Emperor, is, alongside with Adrian Goldsworthy’s Augustus: First Emperor of Rome, the most important work about the first emperor.

Prepare for trouble and make it double! Although “minor” historical figures when compared to Caesar or Cicero or Augustus, siblings Clodius Pulcher and Clodia Metelli are major historical figures in my heart dsdfghgfdsfg their biographies also give a great insight on the day to day politics of the republic, the fascinating private lives and loves of these people, and, Clodius in particular, the eternal dispute between Senate and People. So, Clodia Metelli: The Tribune’s Sister by Marilyn B. Skinner and The Patrician Tribune: Publius Clodius Pulcher by W. Jeffrey Tatum.

Cleopatra isn’t a roman, but I’ll be damned if I make a list without mentioning my girl. Cleopatra has many good works written about her, of those I recommend Michael Grant, Joyce A. Tyldesley and Duane W. Roller the best, although Stacy Schiff is probably the most famous. However, since this is a list about Ancient Rome, I will go with a double biography of Cleopatra and Mark Antony: Cleopatra and Antony: Power, Love, and Politics in the Ancient World by Diana Preston. Also, if you’re interested in Cleopatra, @queenvictorias put together a really good and complete list of works here.

For imperial biographies, other than the already mentioned works about Augustus, I wholeheartedly recommend Anthony A. Barrett’s work, who has biographies on a number of julio-claudians: Livia: First Lady of Imperial Rome, Caligula: The Corruption of Power and Agrippina: Sex, Power, and Politics in the Early Empire. He has really good analysis, with plausible explanations of what is truth and what is slander in their lives. Among these three, he pretty much covers the entire julio-claudian period.

Now, leaving the biographies for a bit, I think these two works are great to see the relationship Rome had with the rest of the empire. Cleopatra’s Daughter and Other Royal Women of the Augustan Era by Duane W. Roller talks about many royal women from the early empire, including Cleopatra’s daughter Cleopatra Selene and Herod the Great’s sister Salome, and the relationships they had with the roman elite. Interesting read. Rome and Jerusalem: The Clash of Ancient Civilizations by Martin Goodman is a huuuuuge work about Rome’s relationship with Jerusalem and the jewish in general, leading up to the wars between them.

To finish the read, H.H. Scullard’s From the Gracchi to Nero: A History of Rome from 133 BC to AD 68 not only is a classic read, but it covers pretty much the entire period I brough here.

Other than these, I recommend reading the work by the ancient historians like Plutarch, Suetonius, Livy, Sallust, etc. They have sooo much detail, even if we can’t take everything they say seriously.

Documentaries:

Eight Days That Made Rome: Bettany Hughes leads us through eight days (and the context surrounding them) that “shaped” roman history. They include Hannibal, Spartacus, Julius Caesar, Augustus, Nero (and Agrippina!!), among others.

Ancient Rome: Rise and Fall of an Empire: has a lot in common with the previous one in terms of events covered, but has some particular favorites of mine, like the Jewish-Roman War and Tiberius Gracchus.

Barbarians Rising: Rome seen through the eyes of the conquered, including the most famous ones, Hannibal, Spartacus, Boudica and Attila, among others.

Hannibal: Rome’s Worst Nightmare: MUST WATCH because it has Alexander Siddig as Hannibal. Sexy Hannibal.

The Destiny of Rome: covers the Battle of Philippi and Battle of Actium and everything that lead to them and has one of my favorite versions of Antony and Cleopatra.

Netflix Roman Empire: can’t in good conscience recommend this one for the historical accuracy, but it’s fun and sexy, even if batshit insane sometimes, and covers the lives and reigns of Commodus, Caesar and Caligula.

[admiralty-xfd]

the whole truth

Chapter One: The Lie | Chapter Two: The Push | Chapter Three: The Descent

Chapter Four: The Split | Chapter Five: The Beginning

Chapter 6: The Thick

ST. HEDWIG HOSPITAL

BERLIN, GERMANY

NOVEMBER 1994

“Cassandra Spender?”

Diana knocked on the door of the hospital room, pushing it gently. The woman in bed sat up, seeming eager for a visitor.

“Come in, please,” she said politely. Diana walked over and held her hand out.

“I’m Special Agent Diana Fowley with the FBI,” she greeted her. “I’m just here to ask you a few questions.”

“About my abduction, you mean.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Well, yes,” Diana said, sitting across from her.

Her assignment over the past couple of years had been contacting abductees and tidying up after The Company’s experiments were over. Whatever information she gathered through official FBI channels would mysteriously disappear to maintain the secrecy of the project.

She’d done it for so long now it didn’t even seem wrong anymore; she knew these experiments were crucial to the very survival of the human race. She was well aware of the Machiavellian lows she’d been asked to sink to; but the ends truly did seem to justify any means necessary.

At least she convinced herself of that when things got confusing.

She’d met with countless people, particularly women, all over Europe, listening to their stories. MUFON members were specifically targeted by the Company for the tests because they were convinced of the lie that had been tailor made for them: that they’d been abducted by aliens, not men.

The second scenario would raise questions. The first would only raise eyebrows.

“It says here you were involved in the Skyland Mountain incident a few months back, and that wasn’t the first time,” she says. “What are you doing in Germany, if I may ask?”

Cassandra looked a bit dreamlike. “I felt a great desire to come here. It’s hard to explain, but ever since my abductions… I seem to go where I feel called.”

“I see you’re a member of the Mutual UFO Network? You believe you were abducted by aliens?” Diana settled back into her chair, waiting for yet another alien abduction story. It was a common refrain, and she knew by this point the ins and outs, the inner workings of the Company, what was expected of her.

“They’ve taken me many times. The aliens told me I was a prophet,” Cassandra explained. “This has been happening to me for years and years, but I’ve finally decided to stop hiding, to stop lying.” She smiled at Diana. “I want to live my truth, Agent Fowley.”

“I see,” she said. “And what makes you so certain you were abducted by aliens, Ms. Spender?”

Cassandra leaned over, picking up a copy of The Times from her bedside table. She leafed through it to find a page she’d dog-eared and handed it to Diana.

There, in the margin, was a tiny photograph of Fox. It was odd to think of him still out there, still existing in a life that didn’t have her in it. But there he was.

She scanned the article and saw that Fox had been intimately involved in the Skyland Mountain incident she’d been sent to help clean up. One of the abductees, Duane Barry, had died mysteriously after claiming multiple abduction scenarios. Fox was the only person who allegedly believed his story.

Still doing his thing, she smiled inwardly. It was comforting, in a way.

“There are people out there who believe,” Cassandra said. “If this man believed Duane Barry, maybe he’ll believe my story, too.”

Diana smiled, knowing Fox certainly would. And she was beginning to see how he was quickly becoming the “Mulder problem” she’d heard about from the Elders in that meeting a while back.

“I’m sure there are lots of people who will believe you, Cassandra,” Diana smiled.

And even though they’re all correct, they’ll be passed off as crazy just as you will be.

Just as Fox will be.

DIANA FOWLEY’S APARTMENT

DAS WASSERTOR WOHNUNGEN

BAHNHOFSTRAßE 19

BERLIN, GERMANY

SEPTEMBER 1995

Sweaty.

It was her favorite descriptor; her favorite thing about him. He was always sweaty. It evoked passion, restlessness, fervor. And those were the things she missed the most, especially in bed.

Diana turned to look at the man next to her. She didn’t like him very much, but the sex was always incredible. Always fast, always hard, always exactly what she needed. And there was rarely any talking. Almost everything that came out of his mouth was a lie anyway. She knew he didn’t want to lie to her, so she let him use his mouth in other ways.

She was using him, but she was allowing herself to be used as well. Personal relationships, even if she’d desired one, were impossible now. Against the rules. Putting the project at risk for the sake of personal pleasures was not something she was supposed to do. But she had needs, and so did he. They’d decided to break the rules together.

He lay beside her, breathing heavily, exposed. Whenever it was over they usually pulled apart and lay silently side by side, minds drifting to whatever else. Whoever else.

She rarely thought about Fox anymore but for some reason tonight she did. She found herself trying to remember the last time they’d slept together before she left. It had already been so many months since they’d been intimate before then, she hadn’t given it much thought at the time, but now, with almost four years behind her since they’d last been in each other’s arms, she allowed herself to regret.

“Same time tomorrow?” her companion murmured from beside her.

She rolled over and looked at him, sex appeal oozing from his pores just like the sweat she’d put there over the last several minutes.

“I have to travel. Back in a few days,” she said. She reached over and brushed a lock of his hair out of his face. It was usually short but appeared unruly tonight.

“A few days?” He sounded disappointed, as disappointed as he ever sounded. He covered her hand with his and slid it down to his lips, kissing it. She didn’t love him, never would, and she knew he didn’t love her either. But he always treated her well in bed.

“Back next Friday.”

“That’s a long fucking time, Diana,” he said.

“I’m sure you’ll manage.”

He rolled back into the pillow and sighed loudly, rubbing his eyes. She thought of his sweat seeping down into the pillowcase and looked forward to having the scent of a man in her bed when she returned.

“We’ve gone longer,” she pointed out. “And I’m sure I’m not your only option.”

He didn’t say anything. She didn’t really give a shit who he slept with while she was away. All that mattered was that he was here when she wanted him.

“Do you ever wish things were different?” he asked out of the blue. He was still staring up at the ceiling.

“So many things,” she offered. She would not get specific.

“Sometimes I wonder what I’d be doing if I ever escaped all of this.”

His words surprised her; it was so unlike him to speak so openly this way. But Diana wondered, too. She’d become somewhat different over the past few years. Her goal had always been the same, however; changing the world. Doing something important. Discovering, learning, advancing.

She’d never known what his goals were, not really. He probably wouldn’t tell her the truth in any case.

“I don’t want to escape this,” she said carefully. She didn’t want to be in a position where she’d have to reveal him or be revealed to the Elders as some kind of traitor.

He rolled over, half on top of her. “You don’t have to lie to me, Diana. You’re not cut out for this crap. You don’t have the stomach for it.”

She pushed him off her, hands on his chest, hard.

“What do you know about what I’m cut out for? You don’t know a thing about me.”

His eyes narrowed. “I know you’re the best fuck I’ve ever had,” he amended, eyes flashing. She smiled at him in spite of her anger. It didn’t really matter what he thought about her anyway, as long as he thought that.

Maybe it was a lie, but she still liked hearing it.

His cell phone rang and he answered it. A brief conversation ensued and he hung up to look at her.

“Turns out I have to go, too. To the States.”

“For what?”

He gave her a look, the look that meant he was most certainly being sent out on a hit. She turned away.

“One of the Syndicate members. It’s a big one,” he answered.

She looked back, interest piqued. “Who?”

“Does it matter?”

It really didn’t. There were few she knew personally, much less their names.

“I have to go,” he said again. He leaned down over her, kissing her neck, down her body, and she could feel him hardening against her, so soon again. More of his sweat was trickling down onto her skin. It made her insides reawaken.

“One more time then,” she said, as he rose to meet her gaze, brown eyes black with lust beneath long lashes. “And make it count, Alex.”

ANNAPOLIS NATIONAL CEMETERY

SEPTEMBER 1995

Dana Scully was completely numb.

When she’d been abducted, her work had become personal, more personal than she was even aware.

But when her sister had been murdered, the personal entered brand new territory.

Mulder felt this pain acutely, she knew. He’d already lost a family member to this quest and he’d just lost his father.

“I know the truth, Mulder. Now what I want are the answers,” she’d said to him in the hospital.

He’d pulled her close and she’d rested her head against him then, just as she did now, as they stood side by side next to Melissa’s gravesite. She’d become accustomed to this kind of support from him, this kind of comfort.

She’d become accustomed to Mulder taking up every last inch of space in her life.

Yes, it was very personal.

“God, Scully,” he whispered into her ear. “I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry this happened.”

“I know,” she replied. She didn’t want him to be sorry, she knew it wasn’t his fault. It was them. Them. The same ones who’d abducted her, who’d killed her sister. Who'd probably taken Mulder's sister. Who’d made them both an intricate part of this seemingly endless web of conspiracy of which she couldn’t see a way out.

“You almost died too, Mulder,” she said. “You were dead. I can’t believe you’re even standing here.”

“I wouldn’t be if it weren’t for Albert Hosteen,” he said. “He was… my savior, Scully.”

She snaked an arm around his waist, something she didn’t usually do, but it felt natural, like it belonged there. “I’m so thankful you’re alive,” she said softly. He rubbed her back as they stood together silently.

“Take a few more minutes, okay?” he said gently. “I’ll go get the car.”

She nodded, and when he left she felt a bit emptier. Her sister was dead, and so was Mulder’s father, and for what? They hadn’t found any answers, they hadn’t brought anyone to justice. She wondered if they ever would.

After a few more minutes she felt a presence beside her and turned in surprise.

“I am very sorry for your loss,” Albert Hosteen said gently. “It is hard to know why these things must happen. But answers come in time.”

Scully nodded, smiling gently. “Thank you for coming,” she said. “Today, and at the hospital.”

“Of course,” Albert said. “I wanted to be here, but I also wanted to tell you something. Something important.”

“What is it?” she asked.

“A white buffalo calf was born among my people the same time your partner was revived,” he said to her. “This may not mean anything to you, but to my people it is a sign. I believe great change is coming for you both.”

“What kind of change?” Scully asked, confused. "What do you mean?"

Albert looked at her for a moment, as if unsure how to proceed. “When the time comes, you will know,” he finally said. “You’ll know in here.” He brought his index finger above her heart and pointed. Then he smiled and walked away, his departure as mysterious as his arrival.

2630 HEGAL PLACE, APT 42

ALEXANDRIA, VA

APRIL 1997

“Do you remember anything, Mulder?”

He sprawled on his couch and Scully leaned back against him from her position on the floor. He’d been released to her medical supervision after firing six rounds into the wall at the Martha’s Vineyard residence. She’d brought him home and didn’t intend to leave him alone.

“Bits and pieces, I guess… but I don’t remember a whole lot before you came into the house, to be honest.”

Scully turned slightly to look at him. “No, not tonight,” she clarified. “I’m talking about your sister.”

Mulder looked at her. “I’ve told you what I remember.”

Scully wanted to tread carefully. This was a sensitive topic for Mulder, obviously. But she’d long suspected his eagerness to participate in deep regression hypnosis had troubling implications. The more a person was willing to believe, the more they could potentially be led, and she’d feared from the start that this was what may have occurred in this case.

“I know what you’ve told me you remember since your regression, but not from… before.”

Before. The word sounded strange on her tongue. For a moment she reflected back even further in his life and found it hard to imagine, as if any notion of a life before Samantha’s disappearance for Mulder was, for lack of a better word, alien.

“You mean before my memories were manufactured, right? Is that what you’re suggesting, Scully?” He sounded defensive, and she didn’t want to argue. She just wanted a moment of honesty, a moment of disclosure.

“No, Mulder. I’m not suggesting that at all,” she said gently. “I just…I want to know, I want to know more… about you.”

The incident with Eddie Van BlundHt a couple of weeks ago was mostly something she wished they both would forget, for several reasons. But it had stirred up so many feelings inside her about Mulder; primarily the idea that she had thought she knew him, but now realized she didn’t really. Not at all. Not when it came to the personal. And she felt an ache come over her, an ache to know him in a way she never had before.

She caught his eye and hoped her expression mirrored her thoughts, her willingness to listen. She watched his eyes soften as they flickered in color: mossy, chartreuse. Mulder. How did they do that?

“Before the regression I didn’t remember anything,” he said.

This surprised her, as she’d always suspected he’d concocted the alien abduction scenario during his childhood and his regression had only furthered that tale.

“I guess… the shock, the trauma. The terror, even… I must have blocked everything. She was there one minute and then she was just gone.”

Scully let this information settle. It was looking more and more likely Mulder had in fact been led. He’d been led down a path as an adult that ended at an answer that was as irretrievable as his sister.

“My parents never blamed me, ever, but… I blamed myself.” He stared up at the ceiling and she leaned back into the couch, watching him, her cheek settling very close to his thigh. She just listened. “I don’t think they ever knew how much I blamed myself, because we never talked about it. They fought all the time, and I knew it was because of what happened to Samantha. They didn’t have to say it.”

She tried not to think about herself, compare herself to Samantha, but in this moment she couldn’t help it. Mulder was nothing if not a martyr to his cause, and that included the guilt she knew he felt about her own cancer; that due to some horrible twist of fate she’d landed herself with him and received this disease as punishment. She didn’t see it that way, but she suspected Mulder did. And it had all begun when he was twelve and took responsibility for losing his sister.

She couldn’t imagine what that had done to him, to his psyche. To his heart, his mind, and his soul. To everything that made him the man he was right now, in this room, lying here next to her.

“I didn’t know how to deal with that kind of guilt. I was twelve, then thirteen, then fourteen. Life moved on without Samantha and I had to as well. The only way I knew how to deal with any of it was to forget it happened. So I tried that for a long time.” He was still staring at the ceiling. “A long time.”

“Until you decided you wanted to remember?” she asked. He nodded. “What made you decide?”

He hesitated then, as if there were something on his tongue that refused to slip out. Something he was holding back.

“My, uh… my ex convinced me, actually.”

Ex. Huh.

“You mean… Phoebe Green?” she asked.

He sighed. “No. Someone else. After.”

An odd sensation ran throughout her body. A college relationship was one thing. The idea of Mulder maintaining any kind of romantic, adult relationship seemed surprising to her. She felt bad for thinking so, but she did.

He’d revealed more than she’d expected already, and she didn’t want to push, but goddamn, was she curious.

“And the layers keep peeling back,” she said, as playfully as she could, echoing a sentiment he’d directed at her a couple of years earlier. She was eager to know about this ex-girlfriend now, but there was no way to take a detour from the topic at hand. She could only hope it would come up again someday.

“She was a psychologist, and she… thought the regression would be helpful.”

Scully nodded. “And was it? I mean, are you glad now, in retrospect, that you did it?”

Mulder shifted on the couch so he was on his side, looking at her. His arm was tucked underneath a throw pillow and she was so close to him she could smell the dried sweat on his white T shirt. She tried not to think about how good he smelled, how masculine, how much she missed having a man in her life in the kind of way Mulder couldn’t be.

“If it brings me closer to the truth,” he said simply. She had known that would be his answer.

“And… if it pushes you further away from it? What then, Mulder?” She honestly wasn’t trying to be combative. She wanted the truth, too. But she was starting to realize the lengths to which he would go for his truth and they were terrifying.

“I don’t know, Scully,” he sighed, and he wasn’t irritated or upset, just exhausted. He’d had a rough few days, so she couldn’t be the least bit surprised.

Scully wasn’t sold on hypnosis. As a scientist, she felt the method itself was questionable at best, and it had raised plenty of eyebrows in the medical field. She had no idea who this psychologist ex-girlfriend was, or what she knew of Mulder, but Scully felt immediately resentful of her, distrustful. Protective of Mulder. This woman should have known better.

This woman should have known him better.

Scully smiled just then, realizing maybe she knew Mulder better than she thought she did, after all.

The topic finished for now, she wanted to get him to bed, to get him comfortable. “Come on, Mulder, get up. Let’s get you into bed.”

“No,” he said immediately. “I’m fine here, Scully.” She never really understood why he insisted on sleeping on his couch all the time. She worried the man never slept, not really. She didn’t even know if he had a bed, now that she thought about it.

“Well, I can’t leave you alone, Mulder. It’s been court-ordered.”

“It’s fine, okay? You know I’m fine, I know I’m fine. I won’t rat you out. You can go on home, Scully. Thanks for driving me.” He turned over on the couch until his back was to her, and she rolled her eyes, knowing he fully intended on sleeping right there.

“I’ll go, okay? I’m just gonna sit with you for a few more minutes.”

He didn’t answer, and as she watched him shifting to get as comfortable as humanly possible on that couch, with its well-worn Mulder indentation, her hand reached out of its own volition to touch his back. She felt the same heat radiating off his skin as she’d felt in that house, and feeling it once more was an odd comfort. She rubbed his back softly, between his shoulder blades, and the tension she felt began to ebb with every passing second. She heard him sigh, contented, and it was probably one of the best sounds she’d ever heard him make.

After a couple of minutes she knew he was asleep. But she lay down on the carpet next to him, still rubbing his back, until she fell asleep herself.

DIANA FOWLEY’S APARTMENT

DAS WASSERTOR WOHNUNGEN

BAHNHOFSTRAßE 19

BERLIN, GERMANY

MAY 1998

After nearly ten years working for the Company, Diana Fowley had seen her share of shit.

She never lied to herself that she didn’t want to be there; she did. But as the years passed she’d had to turn a blind eye to many, many things. Bad things that she knew were the reason this work had to be protected and kept secret.

Experiments. Assassinations.

Lies.  

She’d always been a proponent of the philosophy that the government had a right and responsibility to protect its secrets, and the secrets this group held were similar; proportional to the protection they gave them. By a certain point she wasn’t sure if anything was out of the realm of her capacity to compartmentalize. Sometimes the work was dirty and it still needed to be done. Diana was tough, and she rarely backed down from anything.

She’d made her choice and she never fooled herself about that. It was preferable in her mind to sacrifice the few rather than allow the entire world to perish.

For the good of the project, for the good of the world. A mantra she repeated daily.

Even if she wanted out, she knew it would be beyond difficult. Diana Fowley didn’t have a job she could just quit.

It had taken years, but ever so surely she was beginning to earn the trust she’d sought. The relationships she’d formed with some members of the group were beneficial to moving up from simply an employee of the Company to the upper echelon: the Syndicate.

Particularly the relationship she’d formed with him.

As mysterious and murky as the trail of cigarette smoke that followed him wherever he went, his name was Spender, and that was all she knew of his personal life. She’d been intrigued by him since the day she laid eyes on him in Senator Matheson’s office; the way he commanded a room, the way he never lost face. Even in times of disruption and chaos he kept his cool, and he always seemed to know what to do.

She admired that.

He’d taken her under his wing, brought her into his circle of trust. She still hadn’t ever seen another woman in a meeting with the Elders and was certain she was the highest ranked female in the Company, which pleased her.

She also admired a philosophy Spender had imparted: Don’t become part of someone else’s cause or crusade. Pursue your own self interest, always. Losing herself in this work completely had never been intended or desired and the fact that he was giving her permission to avoid such an outcome was one more thing she admired.

Unfortunately, just as she felt she had been gaining some footing within the hierarchy, Spender had been shot in his apartment. His body hadn’t been found. It had been a year since that happened, and although she held out hope that he’d somehow survived, she felt over the past several months that she’d started over at the bottom yet again.

She lay on her side, restless, staring out the window at the Berlin nighttime sky. She actually loved it here, so far away from everything she’d left back in the States. It made the work somewhat easier knowing everyone she knew and cared for in her life was nowhere around to witness it.

Alex was asleep in bed next to her. After he’d been banished from the Syndicate they hadn’t seen much of each other for some time, but he’d found his way back into their web again. He hadn’t shared the details and she didn’t really want to know.

Alex’s cell phone rang from her nightstand. He rolled over to answer it, and as he did, her own phone rang as well. He eyed her meaningfully and slid off the bed, taking his phone into the other room. She sat up and answered her own phone.

“Agent Fowley, ” the voice said. It was one of the Elders.

“Yes, sir?”

“Your scheduled trip to Tunisia has been changed. We need you back in Washington immediately. There’s been… an incident. ”

Washington. She felt a coiling in her gut and cursed herself inwardly for only just ruminating on her contentment living in Germany.

“Why me, sir?” She rarely questioned orders but this was indeed unusual. And she’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit she was extremely nervous to be going back home. Back to, presumably, the Hoover Building.

Back to where Fox most certainly was.

“There’s been an assassination attempt, on the life of a young boy who is vital to the Project. The FBI believes the man who was shot was the target; they have no reason to believe otherwise. But we need this boy protected until we can get him back in our custody.”

“What can I do?” she asked.

"We’re putting you on the task force. Just keep him safe and await further instructions. A car will arrive for you in an hour.”

The man hung up and she sighed. She had no idea how long she’d be gone this time, she never did. As she slipped out of bed naked and headed to the bathroom, Alex rounded the corner, hanging up.

“I have to go,” he said.

“Me too,” she replied. He started pulling his clothes on and she watched him. “Where are they sending you?”

“Canada,” he said. He pulled on his jeans and caught her eye as he buckled his belt. Simple tasks were more difficult for him since he’d lost his arm, and she briefly considered helping him dress but he looked away. She turned to go into the bathroom and then heard his voice again.

“Diana.” She turned back around. “Smoking man’s alive.”

She stared at him, amazed. “He’s alive?” she asked. “How did they track him down?”

Alex shrugged. “Guess I’ll have to ask him, won’t I?”

He pulled his T-shirt over his head, which was a bit of a task, and grabbed his jacket, walking up to her. He traced a finger from her temple down her neck, all the way down her naked body until his fingers rested on her hip. He only had one functioning hand but with it he could sure work wonders.

She had to ask. “Alex…” she was unsure of how exactly to phrase the question. “Do you think it’s possible one of ours actually tried to murder a child?”

He looked at her half-lidded and squeezed hard, gripping the flesh of her hip, and pulled her against him. “I told you you didn’t have the stomach for this work.”

She closed her eyes, knowing the truth. But there was another truth; that she’d allowed herself to drift far from the person she knew she used to be.

She wanted nothing more than to make him stay just a few more minutes, tear his clothes off again and let him make her forget what she’d become.

But she didn’t. And he didn’t.

He went to Canada. And she got into the shower and washed him off her, thinking instead of the possibility of seeing the fox again.

[leiascully]

I don’t honestly know what this is or where it was going, but I found it in my Google Docs and I haven’t written or posted anything in forever so here you go

She never takes the same way home two days in a row.  As she drives, she marks the streets with her mind.  Evacuation route.  In case of hurricane.  In case of fire.  In case of flood.  In case the shadows just at the corner of her eye loom larger.  She and Mulder were driving to or through some mid-sized town once whose welcome sign proudly proclaimed it prepared for storms.  She wishes she had similar reassurances about her own life.

For seven years, she has been living this way.  She used to think it didn't matter.  They already knew where she was.  Duane Barry found her, and all he had was a chip in his head directing his movements as he jerked in fits and starts toward her like one of those robotic pets, the earliest generations whose gears ground as they tottered across the floor.  Even so, she hadn't been able to outrun her fate.  Her training, her weapon, her partner: none of it had saved her.  

Sometimes fluorescent lights still bother her.  Even the flash of someone's brights on the highway can trigger it.  She'll be back in the white space, her belly inflating and aching from the pressure, and she'll have to put a hand on her stomach to reassure herself that she is the one in control of her body (aside, of course, from the chip in her neck that keeps her cells from multiplying out of control, crowding into the space where her brain shelters).  Mulder teases her sometimes now that she's the one asking him to go on a run.  He doesn't understand.  Part of her is glad of it.  Part of her resents him.  He has chosen to have his body meddled with, his eggshell skull perforated, as a sacrifice on his quest to find the truth.  No one has pillaged his sacred spaces without his consent.  His body is a tool.  Her body is a quarry.  She chisels away at herself, run after run.  She hasn't decided if she's building her endurance or just making herself a smaller target.

When she looks in the mirror, she can see how her skull shapes her face.  She sees the bones of everything these days.  Her eyes used to be the blue of the sea.  They're icy now.  Everything about her feels washed out and frozen over like the last days of winter.  She is mired in herself, bleak and aching.  

Once, long ago, under a dare from Bill, she licked an icy lamppost.  Her tongue stuck, as she'd known it would, but she had to be brave.  Melissa had run home for warm water, which she'd brought back in a thermos.  Scully had spent the time between trying to heat the metal enough with her breath and her spit to free herself.  She'd almost managed, or at least, she'd been on the verge of pulling away and seeing her flesh plastered to the metal.  Missy had poured the water over her face.  It had run into her nose and down her chin into her coat, but she'd been free, and only a few pink fragments on the lamppost marked the scene of her folly.  

Being close to Mulder is like that.  Her neck aches from always looking up at him, but she stuck herself to him and there is no one now to free her except herself.  She cannot calculate what she would lose in the leaving.  When she threw in her lot with him, she became Lot's wife.  She has forsaken all others.  If she looks back, she will turn to salt and wear away in the rain.  

Some days she thinks she feels that slow erosion already begun.  Thinking of Fowler and Spender turning over the strata of files in their basement office grates at her.  Kersh grates at her.  Inch by inch, she loses ground.  Her father would have had something to say about the grind polishing her, about pressure making diamonds, but she's too flawed to catch the light the way he wanted.  She has shot people.  She has bullet wounds of her own.  There is a hole inside of her where something precious was taken and a lump where something was put in, or put back.  Forget salt.  Forget diamonds.  These days she flakes away like mica.  There are shards of her everywhere, too small to notice until she's half-gone.  

They are always in the car.  She breathes out.  He breathes in.  She tries not to think of the billions of molecules they've exchanged over the years, whispering together, passing a basket of fries back and forth.  Mulder always double-dips, as careless of her as he is of his right hand.  Her heart thumps with his paranoia.  His voice whispers inside of her own thoughts.  She can only ever get halfway to him anymore, but Mulder, like a contagion, has her under his influence.  She wonder if Diana feels the same way, or if they've passed each other on like a plague.  She won't know until the symptoms show.