#maybe not without fear. but with confidence. with optimism. with the belief that she's leaving the world better than she found it.

[stergeon]

at some point i will figure out how to write the post-canon, post-empire edelgard autonomy fic of my dreams. it just feels like a very big task and maybe like with playing the dane, i’m simply not old and traumatized enough to manage it yet.

but my vision is thus: it’s set years (realistically, decades) after the end of crimson flower, when everything has gone as right as it can possibly go. fódlan is thriving. the social reforms have taken effect. the nobility system is nearly eliminated, if not entirely so, with titles made merely symbolic. social mobility, welfare, and prosperity are high. there’s an explosion in arts and culture and technology. brigid and duscur have gained independence; relations with sreng and almyra are much improved; heck, maybe they've even figured it out with dagda. in my most idealistic version, leicester and faerghus would eventually be ceded back to become autonomous regions, essentially disbanding the adrestian empire. rule is no longer hereditary, but merit-based. there's a roadmap for the future, and everything is on track—and more than that, people at all points on the power spectrum have already seen it bear fruit. with or without edelgard, it will be pursued. there's buy-in. they believe.

of course, it's not perfect—nothing can be—but edelgard's vision has been fulfilled. the people are empowered. humanity is free. fódlan has healed.

and somehow, she's had enough time to resolve her goals outside of politics, too. those who slither in the dark have been eradicated. edelgard and lysithea's second crests have been successfully removed, allowing them to live if not full lives, then substantially longer ones than they would have with their twin crests intact. who knows—maybe she finally gets around to having that wedding.

point for point, every item listed in edelgard's manifesto has been checked off. the ghosts of her past have been laid to rest. she can finally take off her crown. she can finally pursue the quiet, humble life she's wanted for so long. she can finally breathe.

... but can she?

edelgard is nothing if not driven. her intelligence, vision, and sheer willpower allowed her to plan and execute a revolution against two countries and the most powerful institution on the continent, all while she was still a teenager. as royalty, her life was never truly hers even before she became heir to the adrestian throne, with all the additional baggage of survivor's guilt and the desire for vengeance and her need to ensure nothing that happened to her can ever happen to anyone else, ever again.

so what happens when that drive has no outlet? what happens when someone who has been constantly in motion, constantly working and planning and preparing every spare second of every day since she was fourteen years old, suddenly has to stand still? what happens when someone whose hands have been bound for so long—first literally in the dungeons of enbarr, then by the weight and responsibilities of her crown—is set free?

being edelgard, she would step away from the throne, no matter how hard it was for her to give up control. she's always been focused on the endgame, and she knows that if she doesn't let go, she'll be setting the wrong tone for fódlan's future. she's too devoted to that endgame to cling to power much longer than she needs to, though i could see her making some excuses and trying to iron out just a few more things to buy herself some more time to mentally prepare before she's done for good.

but who would she be then? who is the woman without the crown? what becomes of a machine once it is no longer needed, when it has made itself obsolete? what about when that machine is a person with legs and arms and an innate unwillingness to gather dust on a shelf?

what happens when you get everything you want? what happens when all your wanting has been for others to thrive, and now you have to want only for yourself? how do you discover who you are when you've spent decades being everything for everyone else? how do you find meaning again? how do you find purpose?

after a lifetime of devotion and passion and movement, how do you learn to sit with yourself, and be quiet, and be still?

gosh, i would love to meet her. i would love to pick her brain. but boy, i do not envy the work that girl has to do.

[nexyra]

RWBY Analysis - Ozpin & Ruby, on the concept of leadership

In her song "Burned out", Dodie sings of her fans, how they look up to her and how uneasy that realization made her. For everyone is at the end of the day just as human as their neighbour; and having the hopes and expectations of others put upon you when you're just as lost as them can be a frightening thing. And this... made me think of Ruby & Ozpin.

On the subject of leadership, Ozpin tells Ruby the following : “Being a team leader isn't just a title you carry into battle, but a badge you wear constantly. If you are not always performing at your absolute best, then what reason do you give others to follow you?”

While I love this quote, I also have to analyze the drawbacks of this mentality and how they align with both Ozpin and Ruby. At the time, Ruby is a newly appointed leader and unsure of this reality. Ozpin's counsel give her the confidence needed to step up as a leader and take her duties more seriously, which in return appeases Weiss' and make their team all the more balanced. It is, in that context, good advice. A good leader should strive to lead by example and work hard to be worthy of the respect others give them, both in and outside of battle.

However there is one aspect that I find much more complex and that is... what does it mean to "always perform at your absolute best" and to have others follow you ? Note the use of follow, people letting you lead alone as opposed to "standing by your side" or a similar expression. It showcases in my opinion one of the biggest problem of Ozpin's leadership, but one that I feel has been inadvertently repeated by Ruby's.

- - - - - - - -

To cultivate hope and lies

When it comes to Ozpin's lies, I am of the firm belief that he had good intentions. Soo if you think he's the scorn of this earth, this might be a good time to tap out :D Now, this said I have a lot to say on the subject but I'll keep this short to stay on track (& make another unrelated post to develop my thoughts.)

In my opinion, at the core of his lies stand different beliefs. And on the subject of leadership, I think one stands out in particular and aligns with the advice he gave Ruby : the need to perform at your best to give others a reason to follow you.

Ozpin is the reincarnation of a centuries-old wizard and the headmaster of a school : what is one aspect almost every character agrees on upon meeting him ? "Oh, he's wise. He's knowledgeable. He has the answers. He has his shit together. He can tell us what to do."

Inherently, Ozpin's existence inspires respect and reassure. Just like to a child, a parent is all-knowing and unbreakable, Ozpin's status automatically give others the assumption that he knows what he's doing. And this, in my opinion, is one of the core problems of his leadership.

May it be with his inner circle, with RWBY, with ANYONE really; as soon as Ozpin reveals himself there are unspoken expectations that will chain him. He has the knowledge, he was here when it all began, he's the one calling the shots so he HAS to know exactly what to do. In that situation, breaking down and revealing to everyone how lost Ozpin is, how out of his depth... is unconceivable. And this is where Ozpin's conception of leadership becomes a problem as well. If you always perform "at your best" then you keep your doubts to yourself, you hide your sorrows and you put on a brave face. There are expectations in place that Ozpin wants (needs even) to meet. And thus the hopes of others and Ozpin's desire to fulfill them feed one another, as a perfect recipe for disaster. Because the more time Ozpin spends acting as if everything is under control, the more the expectations pile up... And coming clean about his humanity, the fact that he's just as powerless as the rest of them, becomes impossible.

And in that sense, breaking down the pedestal Ozpin had been put on was probably one of the best thing to do for his own mental health (though the method lacked a bit of compassion in my opinion xD)

The other part that somehow causes problem is how RELIANT on him his inner circle is. Despite their apparent friendship, Ozpin is the clear leader and as soon as he's out of comission, everything falls apart. Ironwood is the only one to call out Oz but in the end still wishes for the wizard to tell him what to do in period of stress. Qrow plays spy and takes order but doesn't seem really interested in stading at Ozpin's side as an equal. Glynda is stern but still defers to him etc...

All of them FOLLOW Ozpin but are just a few steps off from standing at his side. And this is something I see reflected in Ruby.

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

Following optimism up until it fails you

In Vol6, as secrets and lies are brought to the light, the loss of Hope that Ozpin feared so deeply happens. Is it worth it ? What are we even going to do with an immortal foe ? Maybe we should just go home. In that situation, Ruby is the simple soul who manages to keep her optimism, stand tall and say "No. We are taking the lamp to Atlas." And from then on her position as a leader and a bacon of light is reaffirmed. As Jaune put it in V4 "You gave us the courage to follow you."

Now is that, in itself, a problem ? Of course not. In fact I loved seeing Ruby come into herself and take the lead in Vol6. The problem in truth comes after, from the ramifications. From Vol6 onward, Ozpin has essentially been rid of his leader position and Ruby inherited it. And on a surface level sure, they are pretty different. Ruby is certainly closer to her partners : they're a family and they care about each other.

However, she is still clearly put at the lead. The others relied on Ruby's optimism and resilience to get to Atlas, and continue to do so. Setting foot in Ironwood's office, Blake tells Ruby "We'll follow your lead". They trust her, and whatever Ruby does... goes. They lie to Ironwood and Yang expresses some hesitations but eventually rally to Ruby's decision. And I emphasize this again : it is Ruby's decision. They did not pre-emptively discuss this as a group and then let Ruby be the spoke-person. Yang herself in Vol8 criticizes not their actions but Ruby's choices. Ruby calls the shots, Ruby is responsible for what happens, Ruby is their beacon of hope... Ruby is the new Ozpin.

Ruby has to be optimistic, and make the decisions and take risks because she's the leader. When Ruby leaves the room to break down, conversation & strategy stalls : the others don't take the lead. When things go south, it's Ruby's choices that led them here. Ever since Ruby has left Beacon, the only person who consistently encouraged Ruby to express the BAD, to share the negative has been Oscar. Even her silver eyes ask her to focus on only the happy memories to go off without a hitch ! The others comfort, they smile, they trust, they love even. But they don't want depressed Ruby finally grieving, they don't want honest "I don't know what to do" : they try to bring back confident and optimistic "we're gonna try" Ruby Rose. They want their earnest and happy but ultimately perfect leader that gives them reason to follow. In the end, even if they deeply care for her and have no shortage of warm coated reassurances for the teen, they still chain her down with their expectations. Ruby is NOT built for this. And I don't even say that in the "why is a kid calling the shots" sense, but "why is a kid put in a position where she's RESPONSIBLE for calling the shots ?"

Ruby is the youngest of the group apart from Oscar. The others should not rely on her this much to function. Blake telling Ruby that she looks up to her and that they'll follow her lead is admittedly sweet, but still builds up the pressure weighing her down. Blake calling out for Ruby's help when the teen has just been crashed to the ground by the Hound isn't even sweet anymore. They're all supposed to be equals. Blake is just as capable as Ruby. Calling out to your mind-controlled friend to bring them back from the edge is good. Calling out to your 17-old sister who's been beaten up because you need her to fight isn't.

They need to recognize that Ruby should not hold up the place alone. Because yes, they love her. But at the end of the day, Ruby is still the one bearing the weight of their decisions... Alone, even surrounded.

✦ ✦ BURNED OUT - DODIE ✦ ✦

He was certain; So was I There was comfort in her sighs

Dreams and ideas should not be the same thing You waited, smiling for this?

Oh, she'd want it, if she knew She could take it, I thought too Be careful, be cautious but you just wished harder You waited, smiling for this?

"But they love you!" Over and over, "they love you!" Thousands and thousands of eyes just like mine Aching to find who they are

"Oh, they love you!" Oh, you can feel how they love you ! Coated and warm but that's all they can do Words only get through if they're sharp

Oh, how fitting For one so fake Make me a fairy Whatever it takes

And just like a tale my dream was a scam You waited, smiling for this?

I am burnt out I smell of smoke It seeps through her cracks and so I start to choke Sentences sit in her mouth that are templated You waited, smiling for this?

Oh, maybe I'll talk about it... (maybe I'll talk about it) I can just talk about it... (I can just talk about it) I'll never talk about it... (I'll never talk about it) No, I cannot talk about it...

Don't build hope on something broken I am not cartoon. Cry for help, I am not joking I might just leave soon

[joelmillerthirstqz]

From this prompt: Joel meets y/n and he makes it his MISSION to fuck her. Throw in a daddy kink if you’re brave

(I did, with ten thousand character-intensive caveats. Porn with obligatory plot, is there a tag for that? Anyway have some suspiciously assertive Joel)

---

Joel moves throughout the rooms of his house, picking up one occupation after the next, bored around one in the afternoon and faced with the reality that he neither remembers nor knows what to do with actual free time, safety, and space of his own. Tommy and Maria had brought some kind approximations of traditional housewarming, but much of his home was furnished by the previous resident and he sat there overwhelmed by spatial possibility. For all his griping about Ellie’s perpetual stream-of-consciousness chattering, the silence roared in his ears like he’d been dragged downstream.

Do people just go drink now? Just talk to each someone to pass the time? he thinks to himself, frustrated. By the time he could legally go to a bar, he’d been twenty-one and Sarah had been three, her mom long gone. He hadn’t spent time alone since the outbreak—always Tommy or Tess and others in between nearby. Acute problems to solve, no time for chronic reflection.

Tommy brought a lone box of possessions from his apartment with a case of cheap beer the night Sarah’s mom left, hanging around more tangibly than any other family had and often taking Sarah to school once Sarah was old enough. Tommy joked that it was more like Joel having two kids to deal with; Joel ribbed him for perpetually flirting with the very clearly married moms of his niece’s classmates.

Joel gulps a breath, self-flagellating with the idea that he hadn’t been able to protect Sarah when Tommy and Maria so clearly deserved to have their own child, forgetting as ever that his brother executed the soldier that shot Sarah before he could get to Joel—without a blink.

Wonderful. That’s what you do alone with your thoughts for two seconds. Jesus, Joel, he grumbles inwardly.

He’d been dragged to so many damn things since settling in Jackson and didn’t know what to do when it was his choice, so he looks outside. If Ellie’s light is on, he’ll go awkwardly try to make conversation, see if she’s okay. If she’ll be caught in a forgiving mood; if not, if he’s really pushing it.

Joel’s boots thud softly on the flagstone they’d carefully laid together, a path for her to get up to the house without soaking her sneakers through. Tonight, though, she’s gone or playing dead, so he sighs and shrugs a coat on, headed for the Tipsy Bison.

————

Joel spent a nontrivial amount of his time lately fending off interested parties in Jackson.

It was just cuffing season, he dismissed—encroaching fall making people a little weird. Since he’d begun to settle in, slowly accustoming himself to having Ellie out of his sight often and a normal couch in a house without shattered windows, he’d slowly accepted more public interactions. He’d grudgingly shoulder into town meetings, quiet until Tommy or someone else would put a question to him like he had a fucking clue.

Joel went on patrol, helping some of the greener residents learn to keep themselves safe. Unfortunately, it meant more people caught sight of him. Joel was used to prowling through quarantine zones swollen with cowering masses plainly terrified of him, which left him minimally prepared for reactions he thought he’d stopped evoking long ago.

The people whose breath hitch when they first notice him, the longing stares when he’d finally break and smile or laugh—they’d gotten embarrassing enough for him to avoid certain places.

Whenever Joel seems like he’s about to not comply with her wishes, Maria frequently threatens to tell the women who ask her in lewd tones if Tommy has a brother the truth—he does, and how about I introduce you?

The truth was he didn’t feel capable of starting anything with someone who’d ask where he’d been. Joel didn’t want to remember, even if he’d finally pinned the picture of himself with Sarah at a soccer game up next to the blooming collection of pictures in his living room with Ellie, Polaroids in Jackson blooming over nearby wall space every few weeks. People who wanted honesty to go with their peaceful existence reminded him too much of Tommy’s near-fatal optimism, and he felt like it would be too dishonest to start anything with anyone who still lost sleep over distasteful things done to survive. Delightful first-date baggage, in his estimation.

At the Tipsy Bison, he edges in by the drinking patrol nearest the door, welcomed gruffly and responding the same. It was nice to be recognized without raw fear or calculation as he entered, and Joel warms enough to drop his coat over the back of his chair, his rust-colored flannel’s buttons parting over the shirt beneath it as he moves, listening to Eugene tell some inflated war story with an almost-cold beer.

“Alright, fuck this. Knuckle up, asshole, I’m not doing this on patrol tomorrow,” Joel’s ears perk up at the sound of your chair clattering backwards as you stand. Joel recognizes you from the newer batch of arrivals, clearly deemed capable enough to join an early patrol just days after your arrival.

“Jesus, settle the fuck down,” one of the younger patrolmen grouses, standing up. Alex. Oh, the dumb kid.

“Nope. Now or never,” you insist.

“Listen, I’m not hitting you,” he sounds unapologetic but tries to portray himself as the reasonable party. He’s wiry, and Joel’s seen him fend for himself, but his posture doesn’t belie cool confidence.

“You clearly have some doubts, so let’s get into it,” you urge, agitated beyond belief. He’d been needling you about perceived skill, something about not growing up having to field dress animals, and you’d fucking had it. He was going to make a point on patrol and get someone hurt, and you were not carrying bodies back into Jackson because of some ego or misplaced crush.

He taps your shoulder mockingly with a closed fist, a gentle little motion, trying to smile playfully.

You hook him across the jaw, staggering him before taking a knee to his stomach as he tries to right himself.

“More, or you’re finished?” you ask.

Joel fully sits up in his chair. He hasn’t seen anything like this in Jackson. Glancing over both shoulders for his brother, Maria, and finding a clear coast he watches the outcome with interest, sipping his beer with an upturned mouth.

You’re cute, or appealing, or some reflexive word Joel hadn’t used in years, pushing hair out of your eyes as you regain your center.

Alex tries to sweep your legs out, successfully swiping one and getting a knee to the diaphragm for it as you land.

“Okay, fuck, I’m done,” he grunts and you rise easily, offering him a hand.

“Good,” you mumble, letting go the second he’s righted. You look around a little chastened by all the eyes on you, deciding to forego another round.

“I’m going to bed before we do this again,” you nod at Alex, and the rest of the patrol group you recognize in turn.

Joel eyes you as you depart, beer polished off and goodbyes waved, coat gripped in his fist to be flung on once outside. He knows your name, had seen you near the stables and conversing with the patrols. Hearing you speak, despite the context, maybe because of it, let him confirm something he’d been suspecting when he caught glimpses of you before. Never having had the right circumstances or raw spare time to devote all his energy to taking someone to bed, he steels himself to confirm it.

He trots after you, tugging his jacket back on and finding his way to the four-story hotel the town had spent arduous time clearing, stripping of spores, and making hospitable enough for people new to Jackson. Joel ended up leading a lot of the effort himself, vaguely proud to be doing something other than dismantling things, stretching old skills. Your little corner balcony faces off of one side, a nice view of the town unfolding as people begin to switch lights on for a sooner-than-yesterday sundown. You’re appreciative of a strange little luxury—not sure when the last time you stood with your back to a door without anticipating some infected would burst through.

You lean your elbows on the railing, a flask of whisky tipping in your fingers as you watch Jackson light up, a lone figure’s long strides coming into view down the broad street. The night is cool against your skin, but the little shiver the breeze causes feels affirming.

You’d always loved the fall, and Jackson’s soft sounds of life feel unreal enough that you could never sit here just sobering up before bed. It would leave you too wired, buzzing with the anxiety of certain impermanence. Reconciling this liminal zone with the gnashing horror just beyond it wasn’t something you’d take on without help. If Jackson was only a passing reprieve, you had to make yourself calm enough to enjoy it.

Joel halts below where you’re standing, hands on his hips pulling his jacket open as he looks up at you.

You’re instantly sheepish—you’d guessed in whatever patrol hierarchy there was, he was rather important. And you’d just visibly beaten someone down.

“Alex okay?” you call.

“He’ll be peachy. Not here for that,” Joel retorts, low drawl pleasant.

“Well,” you shrug, gesturing to the two mismatched chairs on the balcony with your flask. “Allow me to be a gracious host.”

He smiles and looks down for a moment. Even a couple of stories above him, you can see his height, start to assess his proportions because you’re too tipsy to be a human fucking being about your first interactions in a good place. You quickly add up a sum: his legs are long, shoulders broad, hair long enough to tug on. His frame suggests complete capability and you have a dire need to test it.

Aw, fuck.

“Y’know, I’ve got real glasses for drinking that,” Joel insinuates before he can tell himself to shut the fuck up, or to stop harassing newcomers, or any other sensible thought.

“Fair enough,” you call, closing your flask and holding a finger up to signal that he should wait.

When you arrive downstairs, boots poorly laced and denim jacket barely enough for the chill, Joel’s leaning on the veranda of the whole structure. You suppose its fair to gawk in appreciation so you do, assuring yourself you could have chosen not to.

“Look, I’m not going to ask what this is, and you won’t ask why I’m saying yes, okay?” you say softly when you’re a couple of feet from him.

Joel raises his eyebrows, feeling untethered. Some corner of him expected to humiliate himself to death so he could go home and fall asleep barely after dark, anything to shut himself up until he was occupied again. His heart speeds a little at your reply, hand on the back of his neck as he pushes back onto both feet.

“I’m close,” Joel offers, hand down towards the street, fists quickly in his own pockets. You pull your bottom lip inward, looking at his profile, wanting to hear it again, lower, helpless.

You pass the walk in tense but not unpleasant silence, glancing at each other until you reach his porch and he edges in to unlock his door.

Turning on lights as you toe off your boots and follow him inside, you watch how he moves, past the need for any type of persuasion. He returns from the kitchen with two matching, unchipped short glasses and a cylindrical glass of amber liquid.

“Trade?” Joel asks setting the bottle down and closing an open window. Your mouth quirks.

“That’s a nice custom. It a Jackson thing?” you ask, tipping your flask into his glass as he returns and pours from the bottle for you.

He laughs, sharp hazel eyes jumping up to you and back down, hand running over his beard.

“Not sure. What else would you do?”

You drop onto one of the two couches, arranged in the way that says people actually spend time here together. Joel gets onto his knees to build a fire, definitely a necessity, though kind of needlessly sweet for the occasion.

“This?” you tease, gesturing between the two of you. Joel joins you on the same couch, heat radiating into the space around you, well before the spark in the fireplace could catch enough to reach you.

You take stock of each other in comfortable silence, and a slow grin moves from one side of your face to the other. You finish your drink with a tinge of shyness, setting it down as he does the same.

You have no warning before his mouth is on yours, hands on either side of your face. It’s achingly good to be kissed with complete attention, luxury of time changing the entire tenor of kissing another person. You’re grounded to who’s holding you, mouth accepting him as Joel leads, guiding your jaw where he wants it with the flat of his palm. Joel moves slowly, plenty of time for you to reciprocate his motions though you begin to shift closer, scant sense of rhythm keeping you from straddling his hips.

The taste of him and your anticipatory haze keeps you fixed on the kiss, his hands sliding lower and beginning to move you towards his lap.

You try not to break the kiss with a smile, but it happens anyway and he looks up curiously. You sit back on your heels and tear through the buttons of your jacket, tossing it over the back of the couch and stroking fingernails through his beard before beginning the kiss again. Joel tugs you closer by the hip, urging you into his lap. He scans your face intensely, pulling you fully against him and letting his hands run the expanse of your back.

You can feel how rough his hands are through your shirt, so your fingers fly to his to work the buttons of his flannel.

“Christ,” you roll your eyes, exposing a second shirt underneath. He chuckles warmly in his chest, your foreheads bowed together a moment.

“C’mon,” Joel mutters, broad hands under each of your thighs as he rises with you wrapped around him. A segment somewhere in your brain shimmers, clicking with the novel experience, a knockout strike in the lane of neurons igniting to remember their roles.

“Where’s c’mon?” you ask incoherently between kisses, moving your mouth to his neck so he can answer. You think regretfully that it’s probably substantially warmer down here, fire catching nicely.

“Upstair—” Joel cuts off, your teeth nipping his pulse point.

You feel his heart jump against your mouth and your chest at once. You kiss him slowly as he takes you upstairs, stopping halfway up. He pushes you against the banister and deepens the kiss, hard length made clear. Shifting you closer to his waist once you resume, Joel’s hands creep a little higher, fingertips edging up as they dig in.

As you reach his bedroom, you have one hand hooked in the bottom seam of his shirt, ready to pull it off as he tries to set you down. Joel grunts when you tangle his broad shoulders in it, getting free and discarding it agilely. He bears down on you under dark lashes, chest rising and falling noticeably. The chill upstairs dissolves quickly as you twine together, hands running over his chest. It’s impressively broad and defined, thickening line of hair leading into his jeans.

You strip out of your two shirt layers with a casual roll of your upper body. Joel’s rapt eyes dragging over every rib leave you feeling exposed until his hands cover your breasts, mouth on your neck. You try to tug the rest of him towards the bed by the belt loops, but get frustrated and try to unclasp his belt instead.

Joel stoops to claw quickly at his boots, both thrown one handed before coming to rest against the wall. He hasn’t taken his eyes from you as you rise to slip your jeans down, one hand already curled back around your waist. He spreads his other hand across your abdomen, callused fingertips making you shudder appreciatively. Shoving you back, Joel gets to his knees with one of your legs hooked over his shoulder, grasped in his palm, kissing down your thigh. His free hand still moves over the rest of you.

Your mind is blankly focused on the rasp of his beard inside your legs. If you were honest, head wasn’t a frequent priority after the outbreak, sex usually a time-sensitive stress fix—for everyone. Add to that the average skill of the college peers you’d fucked before and, well, you’d only ever mildly enjoyed it.

Joel sucks your clit into his mouth, hard, and you arc off the bed. He moves without an ounce of uncertainty, shifting and roughly positioning you for the best angle as he goes. Being pursued like this, by a person who squarely checks boxes you didn’t know were empty left you wet enough to take him the moment you’d been out of your pants. His tongue pushes inside of you, followed quickly by one finger and then another, static but wonderful. You writhe on the bed at the feeling, low hum of a chuckle skittering across your sensitive skin.

One hand in the sheets, your other makes it into his hair. You grind against him without being able to help it, riding the stretch of his fingers as his tongue laves forceful circles around your clit.

“Fuck,” you try to grit out, embarrassed by the disassembled breathiness of your voice. It’s more a sigh as he curls his fingers within you, hazel flicking up to watch your reaction. You paw at his shoulders blindly, wanting him closer, wanting to fuck him, trying to pull back from him to tell him. He’s deadset in his focus, teeth softly grazing you in reply to your attempt.

“Can you just—” Joel grumbles, rising,“—be good for one goddamned second—” he yanks you towards him by your ankle.

“This where you want me to tell you to make me?” you tease, sitting up in his lap and wrenching him closer with your legs.

He huffs a small laugh, making to kiss you, but you hold him back.

“I want you to make me, okay?” You say seriously, grasping the hair at his nape to emphasize it.

Joel leans forward, biting your lip with care.

“Alright,” he confirms, hands around your jaw. You taste yourself on him, and a near-growl ripples through him, evident through his chest pressed against yours.

You duck away from his kiss, not caring to get his jeans off before getting a hand around his cock, your mouth enclosing the tip before you can register how much there is to take.

“Christ,” he breathes, eyes shut, face turned towards the ceiling. As your hand becomes slick enough to work over his shaft, his hands stabilize in your hair, bunching. You feel him flex in your mouth as he parts his lips and tugs on your hair, hauling you up level with his face.

“You don’t get to end it now,” Joel smiles, mouth almost against yours. You smile at the rough motion, hot interest skipping down your spine. His opposite hand is running over your chin while he composes himself, far closer than he’d wanted to be at this point.

You bite his fingers, pulling two deftly in to suck and keeping his gaze. His pupils darken and you feel a surge of pride at the same time as you feel him shove you back onto the bed, tearing his jeans off and finally joining you. Joel covers you, kissing you roughly and pulling your thighs around his hips, on his knees. He sheathes inside you without resistance, groaning and bowing his head at first. Even ready, he stretches you noticeably and you gasp at his first experimental thrusts, dragging your hips up to his each time.

You rise up to meet him, nails dug into his shoulders for traction, meeting his thrusts.

Joel hisses more in chastisement than discomfort at it, smacking your ass curiously.

“You know I’m not delicate,” you say close to his ear, snapping the lobe between your teeth unnecessarily hard.

“Shit, ow—” he grumbles, smacking you harder. You moan at the feeling, spread over his lap and trawling nails down his back. You tug where you’ve latched on, moving lower and biting his neck. He does it again, rolling his hips as you clench down on him. You scrape your teeth over his shoulder. Joel hits you again, force of it stinging how you’d hoped.

You provoke him to continue, pulling his hair, hard, and biting the skin over his collarbone.

Joel fists your hair and tugs back hard, exposing your throat to him even as you keep riding him, spanking you with almost musical timing. You almost draw blood scratching your nails out of his hair to the nape of his neck, grinning from your forced angle as he pants under you.

Joel leans forward and nips carefully over your larynx, clamping down hard on tendons just next to it. It’s a brash spot to suck a bruise into, and even the less visible parts of your body would surely be screaming on patrol in the morning.

You cry out, nerves and instinctive reaction to teeth near your neck making your heart and your cunt clench.

Joel flips you without effort, pressing a palm against your lower back to shove you into the mattress. You feel him strike your ass, once, twice, three times, and then his fingers are at your entrance, coaxing your hips to tilt up. He brushes his knuckles against you, leaning over to breathe into your ear.

“Here?”

“What did I just say?” You retort, appreciative of his caution but entirely sold on the possibility that walking will hurt tomorrow.

Joel doesn’t reply but you can see him roll his eyes from the corner of yours as he swats your cunt, hard, sensation shattering across your skin. You moan and he takes the initiative to do it again. Your shoulder blades pinch together around his hand, veering up with it. You turn your face entirely into the bed, muffling moans and faux-objections as he works, tenderness rising to the surface of your skin.

You feel Joel’s hands harshly grasp handfuls of your ass the second before he thrusts into you again, the force pinning you to the bed. He fucks you hard for long minutes, sweat building between you enough to make his hands slip. Joel’s forearm slides around your front and pulls you back against his chest.

You immediately claw at his arm, grateful to anchor yourself to him directly, pushing your hips down against his as he falls back to a gentler pace. His mouth reaches your shoulder and your hand flies to his hair again, straining to kiss him. Maybe it was weird to seek him like that—could still be a fantastic, unattached fuck—but Joel kisses you with this unerring focus that already makes you hope it will happen again.

“Takin’ me perfectly,” he drawls, some enunciation falling away with his blood coursing like this. You want to keep hearing him, so you nod and resume kissing him.

“More delicate than you thought? Need a break?” Joel taunts, and your eyes narrow as he speaks low and close, still thrusting shallowly.

“You want it hard again?” Joel teases, fingers skimming your stomach to roll your clit between them his thumb and index. It pinches and you suck in a breath, your hips floundering against his patient rhythm.

Your eyes spark and you decide to push.

“Yes, daddy,” you mock, almost sneering at him.

A dim recollection of a girl he’d briefly seen after Sarah’s mom left dusts itself off, and he reconnects dots that drifted apart from disuse after the outbreak. Joel raises his eyebrows at you and tips his head as if to say, “Well, alright then.”

You’re on your hands and knees before you can react, his hand spanning across your collarbones, bracing you against his repeated impact. Joel’s breathing becomes ragged each time he slides home, folding over you again to spill an endless wave of questions into your ear. His fingers are smoother across your clit now, drawing soaked concentric circles as you hitch.

“That’s it, baby girl,” Joel punctuates with a snap of his hips.

“You gonna come for me just like this?” Again.

“Come around my cock like a good girl?” Again, rough.

You moan, dropping to your elbows as he pounds into you, orgasm building inside of you spilling over to his fingers’ stimulation, a low groan meeting yours. You’re past words and shivering on the edge of climax when he taps your jaw.

“Focus up, c’mon,” he rumbles in your ear, demanding your attention. The pressure of his length against the tension inside of you has your vision blurring at the edges.

“Tell me,” Joel demands, pulling out halfway.

“Yes! Please, please,” you hear yourself sound panicky at the threat of losing his touch.

“Not what I asked you, baby,” he goads, nipping softly across your shoulders. His hand hasn’t stilled, and you know your eyes are rolling with the distracting pleasure of it.

“Yes, yes I will, please—”

“Tell me what,” he slips in an inch, voice shaky with thin control, fingers flexing where they meet your skin.

“Come for you, please don’t stop,” you plead, trying to shove your hips back to to meet his.

“That’s it, baby girl,” Joel murmurs and you break, quivering against his fingers and fussing with effort and relief. Your cheeks and mouth bloom red as your eyes droop with the onslaught of endorphins, still cresting as you feel Joel’s hips snap in quick succession, burying himself deep and making the best, most broken noise you could have hoped for. Even deep in your own fog, you reach for him, finding his mouth as it seeks yours again, aftershocks rolling through him.

Joel rolls onto his back, tugging you along one side. You don’t much enjoy being pinned if you weren’t also being penetrated, so the intimacy of lying there like lovers with someone you’d barely glimpsed, much less talked to, was unsettling.

Joel laughs like it’s easy for him, face lighting up with the motion, hand stroking your hair behind your ear.

“What?” You ask, propping yourself up on an elbow.

“Just surprised you said yes,” he clarifies. “I’m don’t—this isn’t a usual Wednesday for me,” he clears his throat.

You analyze his expression for a second, looking for the deceit and just finding something genuine and suspiciously shy for having nearly spanked you to orgasm minutes ago.

“You don’t accost every vulnerable newcomer and ply them with good whisky?” You prod, draping yourself over his chest, an easy negotiation of legs happening without either of you needing to acknowledge it.

“Bourbon, and, just the ones who start fistfights, really,” he teases, hands drifting over you, hungry warmth reaching his eyes as the afterglow begins to recede.

“Come downstairs?” Joel asks, like you weren’t tangled up in his bedsheets, surrounded and willingly captive to whatever he wanted.

“That was the original plan,” you protest, peering around for his shirt and slipping into it.

He smirks and kisses the tip of your nose, pausing and tipping your chin up to kiss you properly.

God damn it, you think. Oh, god damn it.

[bounnostra]

endgame 1.1 || dew point depression || SCOURGE || [ re: results, evie ]

Scourge can’t muster up any optimism as the votes roll; they merely sit there, stiff and a bundle of nerves. It’s impossible to relax until everything’s said and done, and Scourge keeps telling themself not to dare hope for a single goddamn thing. Not in life, not in this game, not for things to ever work out alright.

So maybe they shouldn’t be surprised when a stone begins to drop in their stomach at Gambit’s first word --

So maybe they shouldn’t be surprised as he continues and a flash freeze chills them to the bone -- 

[ “Hopefully, if it is Evie, she's... just the mole.” ]

But they are. They’ve always had a dreadful habit here of telling themself not to hope, telling themself not to make plans, doing it anyway and then having it all come crashing down. The second they hoped that if Evie was involved, she would be the mole, they should have known.

They should have known better.

There’s something unfamiliar in their eyes as their gaze slowly drifts away from Gambit to Evie, before the bird has even finished talking. And perhaps they look a little paler despite their blank expression as their mind races with realization, hands closing into tight white-knuckled fists on the table. 

Their chest feels unbearably cold, head fuzzy.

Scourge’s eyes don’t falter from Evie; even as their surroundings are whipped into a whirlwind, they keep staring in her direction.

By the time Gambit speaks again and his words sink in, they’ve started to feel ill. Their nails dig further into their palms, teeth grit together. Thoughts hit them like a hurricane. They think back to the person they were when this game started who they don't want to go back to being, to their newfound belief that they can be better than the cards that were shoved upon them. To all the times they’ve opened up, to the ideas they’ve gotten for their research, to the promises they’ve made, to the people they care for, to everything left they have to accomplish.

( how many times have they had those same goals, learned these same lessons -- how many times over have they stood in this hotel with these exact thoughts? )

Again, fear clutches their chest and wraps around their neck like a vicegrip. 

And still, by the time she finally speaks, their eyes have not left Evie. They take in Evie’s expression and resignation, and their chest twists. The ice within them burns; they think about all the hours spent playing board games and spilling all their secrets to her, about trying to boost up her confidence because they truly believed in her work.

Perhaps this is what betrayal is. This feeling of being ripped in half, torn between remaining fondness and anger -- a want to be sympathetic but an undeniable hurt.

So, when she brings her gaze to the seat between themself and Seattle, addresses them directly, all she’d find in their eyes is a mess. A cyclone of conflicted feelings, everything overlaid with a filter of building panic over the inevitability of their plight.

It’s unlike them that they still don’t react to Ivey’s comments, to the jab at them. And even when she spells out her motive, her prize, all they can muster the will to feel is a distant, muted sort of contempt. If they cared, they would have words, they would condemn her -- but.

But.

They know that Ivey’s a lost cause to even bother talking to. They are the antagonist without a single good point to her hero -- or, anti-hero, they suppose. Acknowledging Ivey will do nothing for them; it never has. What will they gain by continuing to play her games?

Not a thing.

( what do they gain from even listening to any of this, though? if they’re just going to be reset, what does any of it matter? why can’t they just be let go to have a fucking breakdown in private before everything’s gone? )

And finally… finally, the roaring tornado in their eyes settles somewhat. It wasn’t too hard for them to guess what Evie’s reward might be, though her reality almost… feels disappointing. Their fists loosen, and, for a moment, they stare tiredly at the dull crescent moons left in their skin instead before wrapping their arms around themself. A hopeless, desperate search for stability in this flood.

Their nails dig into their arms instead. They wish they had the energy to yell, to approach the two, to scoff in Ivey’s face at potentially thrusting a metal sword towards a living spark plug, to do anything. Yet, any rancid words shrivel up in their throat. What do they gain by saying them?

Not a thing.

So, instead, they level their tired gaze with Evie from across the table -- anger and hurt there, but overshadowed by a fear she so easily would know the source of. 

 All their week-months of putting their nose to the grind, with what to show for it?

Not a fucking thing.

( they suppose that’s nothing new. their research has never gotten far. maybe it never will. )

“...That’s it, huh.” And they sound exhausted, more than anything. “Y’know. [Evie]. With what you’ve told me ‘bout your research, what I know ‘bout you ‘n you know ‘bout me, I’m…” They pause. Looking for the word. “...I’m disappointed. Who fucking knows what the limit of Gambit’s bullshit is… all your talk of wanting to stop organizations from taking advantage of folks… and... you didn't even choose something that would help with your work.”

They scoff weakly.

“...You tell me I don’t need fixing ‘n then play ‘long with all this to cure your own bullshit. Fucking hilarious.”

Scourge sinks into their chair, shaking their head to themself. The breath they exhale trembles against their wishes but still contains enough bitter amusement to drown their sorrows in. They wish they could do just that instead of be here in their supposed final moments.

“So. What now. The two of you get to reap the rewards n’--” Their dry tone falters noticeably. A catch in their voice, betraying the fear that they’ve been trying to not let show. “-- and leave all of us to fucking rot?”

And even the bite in their tone is oh-so-lacking.

Finally, their eyes leave Evie after lingering on her a moment more to stare down at their lap. They don’t dare look at those they care for now, as much as they want the comfort from their presences -- not with the knowledge that they may wake up tomorrow not knowing any of them again and they know their composure’s hanging on by a thread. 

They swallow down the lump in their throat and squeeze their eyes shut briefly.

( they really should have fucking known better. )

[snickerl]

The Performance of His Life

Set in season 9. What is going on in Mulder’s mind when Scully and Skinner find him in his prison cell and he plays the role of a brainwashed inmate?

Tagging @today-in-fic and @fictober

He doesn't need to turn around to know it's her.

When they brought him into this cell, he wasn't sure whether this was good or bad. Believing that something good will happen in his life had become a very difficult task. Almost impossible even, yet essential to his survival. The hope of being able to see them again, Scully and William, if only for one last short moment, was all that kept him going these past lonely months. Only since he has been incarcerated in this black, moldy hole of a jail, has he almost lost all hope. Almost.

He couldn't count on her finding him this time. They had brought him to some kind of military facility, if they wanted his residence to remain secret, it definitely would be impossible to locate his whereabouts, even for a special agent of the FBI. A very good special agent. The best he can think of. But she found him even so. Of course, she did.

Now he's not so sure anymore if it's really so good she's here. For his sanity, yes, it's the best that could happen to him. The very idea of seeing her beautiful face, cerulean eyes, and perfectly shaped lips pumps zest for life back into his system, a vitality he already thought lost. He feels stronger and more powerful, almost reinvigorated enough to withstand the torture techniques they have applied and will most likely continue to apply to him.

What will they do to him when they realize their brainwashing hasn't broken him yet? That his compliance has been nothing but a charade to make them stop torturing him? And what will they do to her when they learn how much she means to him? That she is everything to him? He can't let them have the upper hand. Allowing them to know how much he loves her, that she is the only thing preserving his will to live, to fight them, would be like serving his head on a silver platter, and hers along with it. He can't let them know, under any circumstances. He has to give another performance and stay in the role of the brainwashed inmate, of the man who has surrendered and accepted his guilt. For his sake, but more importantly, for Scully's.

"Mulder," he hears her whisper, his back still turned to her. Her sweet voice has always had the capability to soothe him but it is his undoing now, because although being only a whisper it's crying out to him. 'Mulder, I'm so glad I found you,' it says. 'Mulder, I missed you. I needed you, where have you been?' He even makes out a faint, 'Mulder, I love you.' As an afterthought, as if she was uncertain, fearful, that it would be like the last time he returned to her when he had come back a different man, unable to fit himself back into her life. Although he hates doing this to her he turns around, the line he wants to deliver already on his lips, and finds himself totally unprepared for what the sight of her does to him.

God, what happened to her? Where is the bliss she radiated when he last saw her? Despite the grief of having to let him part from her and their newborn son, there was a felicitousness and confidence bouncing off of her which almost swept him off his feet. "We're going to get through this, Mulder," she assured him, kissing the peachy head of their (hers and his!) baby boy sleeping peacefully in her arms. "We will be waiting for you as long as it takes," she said, adding, "I have faith in us as a family, Mulder. When it's safe for you to return to us, we will leave it all behind us for good and it will be just the three of us. And we will be happy."

Where did her faith go? Her belief that everything would turn out well for them after all? That they would finally get the piece of happiness they deserve? There is none of it when he looks at her now. He sees a woman on edge, struggling to keep it together, to not crumble into pieces right in front of him. She wants to be strong for him, he reckons, and it makes him hate himself even more for what he is going to do. But he doesn't have a choice.

"Dana," he says, knowing full well that the use of her first name must feel like a punch to the gut, and he actually sees the impact of his verbal fist: her eyes widen a little more, her shoulders droop a little more, and she exchanges a worried look with Skinner who is, as was expected, at her side. She brushes her misgivings away, locks them up inside, approaches him and envelopes herself around him, squeezing and rocking him gently.

Oh, the feel of it! He tries to distance himself, needing to shield himself from her affection to be able to stay in his role, but he doesn't know how. It simply feels too good after so many months of separation to have her wrapped around him, holding him as if she never wants to let him go. He felt so lonely without her. How many nights did he crave her being in his arms just like this when he was lying on his back on an uncomfortable bunk bed in a beat-up trailer somewhere in New Mexico staring at the ceiling? His hands make contact with her shoulder blades because he cannot not touch her. He wants to touch her hips, squeeze her waist, stroke through her hair so much more, but he can't. If he feels a little more of her, he will be tempted to go further, and he mustn't.

He's actually a little proud of his ability to keep his act together so stoically, that he has himself under control. His hands aren't traveling on their own Accord, and he remains a pillar of salt in her embrace but then she kisses his cheek, and the softness of her lips and her sweet breath tickle his skin so beguilingly, his body starts melting into hers. He knows all too well he has to pull back, away from her, quickly, otherwise, he will lose control and kiss her, exposing himself in front of the guard who is watching them like a hawk. So he gathers all his strength to look right through her beautiful eyes that are begging for some kind of sign from him. He draws from the power her love is giving him and eliminates from his voice the myriad of emotions he is feeling to make it sound uninvolved, cold even. He asks her if she is okay, and the way her soft facial features harden tells him he's done pretty well.

How he hates himself, despises himself utterly, loathes himself for hurting her over and over and over again. This gorgeous woman who would have been so much better off without him, whom he should have let go of years ago, but wasn't able to. Being the selfish coward he is he held on to her, allowed for them to become even closer. Intimate. They had been intimate emotionally for years but their physical intimacy was a whole new thing. It was like standing in front of heaven's gate when she came in his arms for the first time with him inside her. From then on, they had been one, literally. Indivisibly welded together. They made a baby together, created life, it can't get any closer between two people.

Eventually, by getting her pregnant he had given her something instead of being the reason things were taken from her. He had been able to give her what she wanted the most: a child, beautiful William. It had filled him with so much joy and gratitude that these feelings deluded him into thinking that parting from them to keep them safe would work. He believed her when she said it would only be a short time until they reunited.

How stupid he was. He should have known better. She should have known better. Known that they would never be allowed to be happy and carefree. That there was some force out there - human or alien, divine or devilish, or maybe all of it - that begrudged them even the most humble happiness. During his isolation, he has lost hope, has accepted his fate, and willingly succumbed to the loneliness and the pain in its tow. He has lost his optimism, his faith, and his ability to believe that somewhere along the road there had to be an exit for him, a refuge to escape to, a place where she was waiting for him, his son in her arms, where he could let himself fall and where he would be loved and cared for.

He has lost all his vigor, but not she. She is still not willing to give up on them, he can read it in her determined eyes. What has he done to deserve this unbelievably strong woman and her stamina?

"Mulder, I haven't seen you in such a long time. I was so worried," she says, her soft palm lingering on his cheek and her eyes scanning his face for a reaction he can't give her. Back in the day, they often communicated just by looking into each other's eyes. They put on poker faces to leave their opponents in the dark, exchanging a secret plan and arranging their next moves non-verbally. They are both masters of the skill, and he knows he could do the very same right now, could tell her he isn't okay at all, that he needs her to get him out of here, that he can't do it alone.

But he doesn't. He mustn't. Under no circumstance. "It's okay. I'm alright. They're treating me really well in here," he replies instead, drawing from the last bit of resolve he has left as her fingertips graze gently along his jaw. Her caress travels from his face to his chest, where her hand comes to a rest. Does she feel his heart hammering in his ribcage? She's silent for a moment, searching his face for answers.

Does she believe him? No, she doesn't. Of course not. The happiness to see him might have clouded her initial judgment but she finally gets the sense that something is wrong. The fine line between her eyebrows and the shade of gray darkening her blue irises tell him. Maybe he isn't the actor he thinks he is. "What's happened to you?" she asks, her eyes pleading with him. She's in tune with him now, in full non-verbal mode, sending him signals that have to be ignored and cruelly whipped back toward her. There is no other option. "Nothing," he replies, trying to sound as if he means it. "I'm squared away."

He almost has to laugh at how ridiculous it sounds being dressed in prison orange and showing cuts and bruises speaking of mistreatment. Her eyes tell him she's not buying a single word he's saying. 'Mulder, it's me,' they shout at him, 'confide in me!' Her worried look gnaws at his resolve. He's responsible yet again for making her miserable. How come the person he wants to make happy the most ends up suffering because of him again and again? He would give his right arm if it was necessary to make her happy even if only for a day. Jeez, he would give his life.

Will. He will give his life. For her. Them.

William and Scully will be much better off without him. Scully will mourn him, yes, will feel like a widow probably, although they had never been legally married. And William will probably ask about his father when he gets older. Maybe. Hopefully. But all in all, they will be better off when he's gone.

And he will be. Gone. That's as sure as night follows day. They will prosecute him for murder in a ridiculously fake trial and the verdict is already clear. He will be found guilty, and they will impose the death penalty. This time, they will get rid of him for good. And with him not being a pain in their asses anymore, they will leave her alone. Them. Scully and William, mother and son, the love of his life and their miracle baby boy. He can do that for them, can't he? He owes them a life devoid of threat and fear, a life in the light instead of the darkness.

He just wishes he could have his share. It's hard to be as altruistic as he wants to be. Her proximity makes him want his share. She's pushing aside the good intentions he so rationally developed with her compassion and her warmth and her loveliness and her beauty and the million other wonderful traits she has. He feels his determination weaken, it's what makes him tear his gaze away from her and turn to the other person in the room. He has to mislead another true friend and ally with his acting talent, has to deceive Skinner likewise to protect him from the toxic consequences of being acquainted with Fox Spooky Mulder, but most of all, he counts on him to convince Scully to let go of him. If Skinner believes he's a lost cause, he might be able to make Scully believe it too.

"Hey, Walter! Good to see you, man!" he cheers as if he ran into him in a bar. Like Scully, Skinner is disturbed by his unemotional bearing. His former boss explains the precarious situation to him, how severe it is and what his rights are as a defendant. "Whatever you were doing, you have the right to a lawyer," he says, "to an inquiry and process of law."

The words lead Mulder to the thought that Scully probably didn't find him here but that it is more likely Skinner was informed of the misconduct his subordinate agent had committed. The realization stings initially, sending a sentiment of having been forgotten and given up on through his body, but only for a moment. He then understands that he is being unfair. Of course, she wasn't looking for him, it had been their agreement that he would decide when the time was right for him to return. He would only come back when he wouldn't compromise Scully and William anymore, when it would be safe for all three of them.

Skinner's explanations are unnecessary, he knows darn well how serious his situation is. It's hopeless, to be precise. He doesn't need a lawyer. He can't be helped, defended, bailed out of jail. His fate is sealed and he's already accepted it. He's embracing the opportunity actually, he just needs to make them let go of him. One last effort and they will hopefully understand that they have to move forward without him.

Fortunately, the guard's sharp command to end the conversation helps him out although it's most certainly not the soldier's intention to be of service to him. The man must have sensed Scully's determination to get to the bottom of things, to reach out to his true soul through the brainwashed shell of a person he tries to convince everyone he is. She's not to be intimidated, though. No, this woman never gives up. This woman is an infinite source of strength.

"We're gonna get you outta here," she assures him and her facial expression tells him she means it. She'd probably even help him break out in a cloak-and-dagger operation, risking her own life holding the guards at gunpoint if need be. He can't let that happen. He can't let her be accused of aiding and abetting, but the resolution to do whatever is needed is ingrained in every fiber of her being, and it frightens him. He has to put an end to her fighting for him. Once and for all. Only he can't as long as he's facing her, so he turns around to the window where he closes his eyes to the bright light flowing through it. He pretends to engage himself in a soliloquy, gives one last performance of an irretrievably lost detainee and it seems to do the trick, they are leaving. Thank god, they are finally leaving.

Go. Please, go. And never come back.

He's not sure he could do this one more time. He feels so weak. So alone. Abandoned. Cold.

Scully...

He doesn't need to see her to be able to tell she's watching him under the small window that ironically sheds a bright light on him now that he's in the darkest place ever. The warmth of her gaze envelops him like a fluffy blanket. He can hear her mind working, this beautiful brain of hers that never ceases to operate, to weigh the options, evaluate facts, and work out a plan. He just prays she will give it a break and let it rest just this once. Just this once he needs her to leave him to his fate.

And then he hears the iron gate slam shut. They are gone. She is gone. That's it.

Oh my god...Scullayyy!

He will never see her again. Never kiss her again. Never make love to her again. He won't see his son grow up. Never read a story to him. Never teach him how to shoot hoops. Never. The future holds nothing but darkness for him, the only silver lining being the knowledge that they are in the light. Finally, he's managed to free her from this crazy quest of his which had brought her so much pain, so much loss.

Scully, his mind whispers inaudibly for the guard still present, I love you.

He always has and always will. All he can do now is hope she knows that, despite his play-acting. If the pain wasn't so overwhelming he would be proud of himself, of how he outfoxed them. Fox William Mulder outwitted Dr. Dana Katherine Scully, she who can usually read his every thought and anticipate his every move. Who would have thought? He convinced her in the manner of a star actor giving an award-worthy performance. He made her believe. Finally.

Ha!

He did great.

Relief settles in, satisfaction over having achieved what he had set out to achieve. But the good feeling only stays for a short moment before it's overshadowed by a dark one. Coldness and hopelessness crawl up his spine and make themselves felt in every part of his body from the very core to the lower limbs as realization kicks in.

He's completely, utterly, all fucked-up.

[myaspects]

Understanding My Chart

Sagittarius Rising:

Born with Sagittarius on your Ascendant (or Rising) you are likely to experience your life as a quest, challenge or search for adventure where the prize you seek is meaning. Self-awareness comes about through expanding your horizons – at either physical, mental or spiritual levels. You are likely to approach new experiences with a sense of optimism and hope – an expectation of success. The dynamic, fiery qualities of this rising sign need to be directed toward reconciling some of the metaphysical and philosophical quandaries of life. In your quest for meaning, you should leave no stone unturned.

The Search for Meaning

When your Ascendant is Sagittarius, every situation can be viewed as an opportunity to learn. You are likely to feel a sense of restlessness and need to have the freedom to roam, explore horizons and see how far you can go. This might happen at physical, mental or spiritual levels.At times, your life could feel like a pilgrimage, where the need to find the holy grail of your own “truth” is paramount. A way to express this approach might be – “I see the goal; I reach the goal, and then I see another”.Gifted with energy and inspiration, you are often able to inspire and uplift others. You are typically broad-minded and so happy to let everyone live their own lives. Charged with faith and optimism, you can look for symbolic meaning wherever you go, finding portents in life’s circumstances and omens to guide you on your way. Usually, every event is seen as part of a larger, connected whole. You find meaning in patterns and serendipity at every turn.

Yet there may also be times where you allow your faith to dwindle. If you fail to find the answers you seek you can become despondent and cynical in the extreme.

If your Ascendant is Sagittarius, you need to find your truth on your own terms, and there may be an extended period of searching for the right path, teaching or philosophy to satisfy your quest. You may spend significant chapters of your life travelling or immersed in a particular belief system, exploring ideas and concepts to their broadest level.

With Sagittarius rising, life is best viewed as a quest and adventure. Faith and a positive attitude are your greatest assets. You are likely to approach life in a grand way, excited by possibilities and certain of your right to experience them. Using your innate gifts of insight and perception gives you the ability to inspire and uplift others, helping them become the best that they can be by lighting the fire of meaning and purpose all around.

Sagittarius Ascendant Woman: The Sophisticated Lady

She is distinguished from other women through her resilience and the ability to overcome all sort of obstacles in life with a smile on her face.

Sagittarius Ascendant woman in summary:

Strengths: Sophisticated, punctual and contemplative;

Weaknesses: Envious, indiscreet and vague;

Perfect Partner: Someone who is joyful and always on the move;

Life Lesson: Stay away from grudges because they don’t bring any good.

Sun in Aries:

If you were born with The Sun in Aries, enthusiasm and energy are your birthright. Your desire to experience yourself as a dynamic and pioneering individual should strongly impact the life that you lead. Aries bring new life and fresh energy to life’s experiences. You are all about the here and now. You can renew yourself by experiencing the invigorating challenge of getting something new off the ground. Courage and the willingness to pioneer are your calling cards. Your commitment to an ideal is usually noble in intent and pure of heart. Your challenge is to give yourself permission to instigate or lead whilst taking the time to listen to others and cooperate as required.

Aries is a sign associated with valor and nobility. They will fight for what is noble or just. They prefer to face the truth of something, deal with it, and then move on. They can easily become devoted to an ideal, and will fight for who and what they love.

In many ways, Aries are the infants of the Zodiac. The motivation behind much of what they do comes from a child-like need to challenge, experience and explore. By pushing out into unexplored territory they learn how to combine enthusiasm with adequate risk-assessment. This way they can avoid rushing in where “angels fear to tread”.

The Sun in Aries represents the spark of energy which instigates new life. At a fundamental level, Aries are motivated by the need to start and act. The drive to pioneer or lead may feature strongly. In some essential way, Sun in Aries must do their own thing.

Moon in Virgo:

They feel most content when they can live carefree or at least have a moment of feeling like everything is in order. When they are able to straightened out all the details of everyday, then they are most comfortable. They can be so stressed about what what’s stressing them out, but they will not let on to others. Those close to them will only know about it, because they need to talk things out with someone in hopes that maybe they will find the answer in the conversation. When they are praised for their helpfulness then you have really given them a compliment. However, all too often the things that Virgo Moon do are taken for granted because people do not readily see the little things that Virgo Moon go through for others. They are comfortable with simplicity. Can be so overwhelmed by pressure from the world that they are too consumed fixing this before they can really relax. The unhappy Virgo Moon will complain a lot, and they will fuss over little things. The express love in little and practical ways, and they can be a bit shy/cold when expressing their sappy affections. They love offering advice to others when asked; they seek comfort in being able to be the one people turn to for advice. They will be genuine in their concern for your problems so they may ask questions in order to give you the best advice. They are the most happiest when they have their life under control.

Mercury in Pisces:

People with Mercury in Pisces will have an intuitive and psychic way of communicating. They are almost poetic in their speech. They take notice of feelings and moods rather than details and facts, so it can be hard for them to take in cold hard information. Formal academics can be draining on them, but subjects they have a passion will be absorbed. They can get a clear pictures from how the perceive things with their feelings. They are highly sensitive to their environment, so they must be careful to pick their environments wisely. It can be hard for them to push themselves into doing anything that requires organization and responsibility, since they can be rather impractical and day-dreamy. They tend to think in mental abstractions, so translating their thoughts into something tangible like words can be difficult for them at times, although they may have less problems describe how they feel. They can get immersed in their own world and imaginative thoughts that they can over look the reality of things. Mercury in Pisces are extremely open-minded and believe that anything is possible, so they can be somewhat naive and trusting. Rarely pessimistic, they have a natural idealism to them. They can get lost in a fantasy world. However, despite all their daydreaming and fantasies, they are usually good listeners, and when people are able to get them to talk, their conversations will be warm. When they communicate, they are full of emotion and affection that it can even extend to their writings. Their mind “feel out” their audience in an attempt to know what needs people want to hear. Although, they have a habit of fibbing, they don’t do it for malicious reasons, they just want people to feel comfortable. They are extremely tactful, because they don’t necessarily want to offend others, so they are apt to be indirect and vague. Their mind picks up on all sorts of subtleties and nuances in the environment. Mercury in Pisces can lack clarity in their speech, so a lot of problems and misunderstandings can be lessened once they have learned to express themselves in a more direct manner. Their are natural visionaries with an eye for possibilities and leaps of faiths.

Venus in Pisces:

They rarely reveal their inner most feelings, and pleasures are usually enjoyed behind the scenes since they are often lead to feel guilty for enjoying such pleasures. When Venus is in the twelfth house, the house of secrets, values tend to be foggy and it can be difficult for them to truly understand their own needs. This could indicate a suppressed and stifled childhood where they were made to feel like they could not ask for things or that they weren’t allowed to explore much of the world and so they are unable to really understand what they really value. Moreover, when they have reached adulthood, they can be easily swayed into believing they should value this or that because they can’t truly chose for themselves. They may attach themselves to people, places, and materials in order to feel like they belong or to make themselves feel better.

Twelfth house Venus is romantic and will live and breathe their partner once they are hooked, but they can get hurt in love quite easily. However, their pain is kept hidden and is only shown when they withdraw further and further away from their relationship. When twelfth house Venus isn’t feeling secure in their relationship, they can sabotage it by saying nothing. Without confidence, they could repress their feelings of love and pleasure, or they can easily get swept up in their partner’s needs that they pay little attention to their own needs. They can be prone to losing their sense of self in their relationships. In turn, this could lead to people using them and walking all over them. They must try to find a balance between helping others and taking care of their own needs.

Their emotional and romantic life is kept hidden, and they may either have difficulty showing their feelings in public or they may have difficulty releasing their Venus energy into their close intimate relationships. Venus in the twelfth house could be prone to falling in love with a person who is secretly in a committed relationship somewhere else, secret love affairs, or easily falling into alcohol, drugs, or sex addictions.

They keep a part of themselves away from people because being openly affection and trusting often doesn’t feel safe for them, and they may greatly fear their love won’t be reciprocated or appreciated. They are drawn to relationship that are unusual, secret, challenging and unique. They can be rather mysterious to people, even if they don’t try to be. They generally do not like to about their personal life in public, yet the appreciate when others open up to them about their suffering so that they can comfort them. Their compassionate and sensitive personality come from their own experience, so it is very easy to shower friends with love and kind words. They must be careful not to let others walk all over them, especially since they can be suckers for a sob story.

They have a strong sense of compassion and desire to help others in need, and they certainly have the ability to love selflessly and unconditionally, but may be prone to feeling stifled and trapped when they are made to focus on their partner’s need for affection. This is because their childhood may have been a place without much love being given so that in their adult years, they not only expect little back from their relationships, but they also have an near unquenchable thirst for attention and love they they can become self-centered in their relationship. They rarely ask for something yet they expect others to understand it implicitly while believing they won’t get it.

“Venus may incline you to various forms of indulgence which boost your sense of well-being. Secretly, you may eat large quantities of sweets, or go on periodic shopping binges (usually buying beautiful clothes, jewelry, or aesthetic objects). If your Venus or your chart as a whole reflects the influence of Taurus more than Libra, you may deny your own materialism, while nevertheless allowing yourself to become quite attached to your belongings. You may also be ashamed of your indulgent behaviour, which may be excessive, but which is also a healthy attempt to love yourself and experience greater pleasure in life.” Your Secret Self: Illuminating the Mysteries of the Twelfth House

However, through art they can express their unconscious values of what is fun, beautiful, and pleasurable. Their hidden artistic talent can help their unconsciousness flow into their conscious so that they can see what they truly pleasure and value for themselves. Venus in twelfth house will often give the individual a gift of artistic capabilities such as singing, dancing, and painting.They attract to people from all walks of life because of their open mind and open heart! Venus in the twelfth house is dreamy and romantic. They long to be able to express their feelings through grand romantic gestures, although sometimes may have trouble putting their feelings into words. One important thing to remember is that these individuals are highly introspective with a controlled sense of emotion.

Mars in Gemini:

Their energy is scattered and unfocused. Gemini Mars can have really hard time staying focus on things for too long. They can easily get bored will not have much patience for mundane and repetitive tasks. They an over abundance of energy, that cannot be channeled into one specific area, they need to scatter their energy into difference places, to keep things fresh and interesting. They thrive on a busy and energetic environment where everything is constantly change and in a state of flux, and because of this, they are extremely adaptable. They take in energy from their changing environment, and without this, they can become lazy, lethargic, and moody. Their hands are very dexterous, so anything that deals with dexterity like playing an instrument, playing video games, and making something with their hands that calls for a close attention to detail. They are somewhat erratic and are not exactly known for their practicality. Much of their energy is focused on their heads and hands, so a lot of mental stimulation that simultaneously challenge their hands is something they need in order to feed their Mars. They will often replace words with actions, so they may prefer to talk and talk as opposed to simply taking action. Their energy is also more logical than emotional, and will prefer to think about their emotions and then talk about their emotions. However, once they are done thinking, when they finally explain their emotions and feelings, it is usually dead, cold and just full of facts and logic, so it is hard for Gemini Mars to sound like they are emotional. However, that is not the case, and the sure fire way of knowing if they having feelings on the matter is when they bring up a topic constantly, even if they sound objective. They are happiest when they are kept busy. There is a great deal of nervous energy within them, that needs to be channeled into different areas of life. People with Mars in Gemini can be fidgety and are constantly moving around, and when they are on edge, they can be nit picky. The passion that comes from Mars in Gemini are more lighthearted and fun rather than serious and emotional. They are curious and enthusiastic in bed, and will be interested in trying everything and anything at least once. Physical contact is just as important as having mental stimulation.

Jupiter in Aries:

Any planet in the first house shapes your personality in a big way.  Jupiter here makes you jovial (a word that comes from Jupiter).  You're leading with a lightness that gives others a contact buzz.  Don't underestimate your luck, when you're stepping out with the planet of good fortune.

The lucky so and so with Jupiter in the First House or Aries feels best when acting on his/her own instincts.  It's vital to take creative risks, and since Aries means action, sometimes the risks are physical ones.

Some shy away from competition, but a Jupiter Aries soul comes alive, testing his or herself, against the wit or skill of others.

UNDERSTANDING JUPITER IN ARIES

To understand Jupiter in Aries, think of the over-the-top burst of life in Spring.  Aries is a sign that's tilting forward, just as Spring Equinox is the tipping point to sunnier days spent outdoors.  It’s a Jupiter that is prone to sudden outbursts of enthusiasm.  And to walking confidently into life, leading with the head (ruled by Aries) -- some may appear to be in an optimistic angle as they walk.  The body language says it all -- "I'm ready for whatever life serves up."

The Jupiter in each of us is where we tend to go big and can be “too much.”  So with Jupiter in Aries,that can mean leaping before looking.  But being a risk-taker and leader catches on, is contagious…you start fires, sometimes wild fires!

As a native (with Jupiter Aries in your own birth chart), you feel most optimistic when beginning something new.

You shine in situations where your role is to get the ball rolling.  You're drawn to life's work that is always starting over in some way.  An example could be a life as an educator, where a group of fresh faces enters your classroom every year.

In fact, you tend to lose steam with the process part.

However, there’s a good chance that there are other factors in your astrological make-up that give you staying power.  Yours is a Jupiter that has a fearless streak, but not necessarily a whole lot of discipline -- to see a project to its conclusion.  Look to the rest of the players (planets) in your chart, to stay in the groove, and bring what you started to completion.

SPIRIT IN MOTION

Jupiter is the confidence booster, the planet that makes you feel on your most “right” path.  You thrive when you’re actively at your edge, discovering what you’re made of.   It could be physical competition, or a game of wits – Aries, the sign of the warrior, comes alive in the heat of battle.

It can be tough on you to be inactive or in a remote place -- away from the action.  You are animated in vibrant, bustling places, like urban meccas where you can experience many firsts in one day.

Travel for you is a pinnacle, when there's a dimension of testing yourself.  You might enjoy starring in an active-adventure, like crewing on a ship.  Or travel with a physical challenge, like hiking or walking.

FIRST IMPRESSIONS

Jupiter in Aries or the First House means you come on strong, and have a forceful first impact on those you meet.

You can be confident, but this will be tempered by other factors in your chart.  Jupiter is the super-sizer, and Aries is the sign that is full of the Self.  You'll want to pay attention, if you're charged with being bossy or selfish.

It takes big confidence, though, to make things happen.  Aries is cardinal, and the first sign of the Zodiac -- you're born to be out in front, as a do-er inspired to take creative risks.  This is your gift, and it can embolden others to take action, too.

Jupiter's generosity makes you a cheerleader for others, especially when you see someone going beyond their known terrain.  You feel most sure of your path when it's one of emergence.  When you're at the leading edge of your abilities and talents, using them in new situations.

If you're not challenged by your current set-up, you can become argumentative, and pick fights.

If you're burned out (a danger for fire signs), it's time to go on the hunt for new experiences.  And that's the key -- not living vicariously or virtually, but deeply engaged in the moment, in an activity/project that tests you in some way.  It's through these tests that your character is shaped, as someone with the courage to blaze a trail.

Saturn in Sagittarius:

Saturn is the principle that causes energy to coalesce into form, the structuring principle that allows the myriad things to become manifest in this physical reality. As the traditional ruler of both Aquarius and Capricorn, Saturn takes the ideas of the Airy Aquarius and builds them into the concrete structures of earthy Capricorn. Saturn holds things together.

As such, Saturn rules all forms of limitation and constraint, bringing order to chaos but also sometimes a sense of heaviness and stagnation. When our relationship to Saturn is not as healthy as it should be we may feel resentful about our commitments, or bogged down in routine and responsibility. For example a relationship founded on Saturn energy has a great deal of strength and mutual commitment, but when this Saturn energy is over-emphasized we may find the relationship feels burdensome, boring or stale.

Sagittarius is a very different energy to Saturn. The archetypal adventurer, ruled by Jupiter, the planet of expansion, abundance and good fortune, Sagittarius always falls on his feet. He loves to explore new cultures and is always curious to see things from other people’s perspective. While Saturn is all about order and structure, Sagittarius wants to break out of the box, and is always seeking to expand his ideas about the world, always wanting to learn more. Along with travel and adventure Jupiter rules higher learning, developing a holistic worldview and coming to realize that our truth is only one way of seeing the world.

How will the Saturn in Sagittarius transit affect me?

With Saturn in Sagittarius, the principles of contraction (Saturn) and expansion (Jupiter) will come into relationship. How this plays out for you personally will have a lot to do with how you’ve been managing these principles so far. Depending on which has been most dominant in your life, you may be called upon to question any dogmatically held beliefs you have, to expand your view of the world from the narrow point of view you may have been taking, or you may encounter situations that require you to step up and take responsibility, to focus your energy and to bring more order and structure into your life.

For example if you’ve been living your life according to the more excessive, hedonistic principles of Jupiter ruled Sagittarius, running away from any difficult situation you find yourself in, refusing to commit to any form of structure, indulging too frequently in alcohol, rich foods and other stimulants, promising more than you can deliver and then blithely cutting it all loose when it gets too much to handle, without a thought for how this may impact on other people’s lives, well then expect Saturn in Sagittarius to deliver a pretty loud wake up call.

On the other hand if you’re prone to taking everything a little too seriously, dogmatically aligning yourself with a set of moral beliefs or refusing to allow yourself to step outside of your ordered daily routines and structures then Saturn in Sagittarius may bring opportunities to let go of your highly ordered existence and embrace the adventurer within, to open up to a new path, particularly through a course of study, or to seek out new points of view, or other moral perspectives.

Take a look at your natal chart to see in which house(s) the Saturn in Sagittarius transit is occurring, and whether you have any personal planets in Sagittarius that will be triggered. This will give you the key to understanding how this transit will affect you personally. Take some time to explore your personal relationship to the principles of expansion and contraction, chaos and order, freedom and commitment. Notice any emphasis one way or the other. Do not try to force change, neither struggle against it. Instead, allow the universe to gently move you into alignment with its perfect balance.

Uranus in Sagittarius:

Uranus (to deviate) in Sagittarius (Free and Tolerant)

You deviate in a free and tolerant way, especially in relation to long journies, philosophy, religion and higher eduction. People born in these years tend to innovate in various areas of knowledge. They may even be innovative in religion. In order to seek release from accepted beliefs and dogmas, they travel a lot to distant places, with the purpose of leaning and experiencing more. They are particularly good at dreaming up new ideas (Uranus, fire). You may be involved in unleashing your ties to common social beliefs and creating new ways of thinking.

(1981-1988, 2066-2072)

In the sign of Sagittarius lies much of the nature of the horse and of the deer; timid, delicate, proud, courageous, and swift. Only the suddenness of its action in any way resembles the typical Uranus force; but the sign itself, if its lord, Jupiter, be happily aspected, may have much power to overcome that which seems hard and cold in the planet. Cold, for the cruelty of Uranus is calculated and deliberate, for the achievement of spiritual good to the native, while that of Mars is the hot cruelty of far more human passion. But Sagittarius never fails to give liveliness to the temperament; it is as Celtic on the Ascendant as Leo or Pisces; more so, in fact, than the latter; therefore, we here find in the planet what one might whimsically call a "reformed" Uranus; etherealized and sublimized. But, of course, bad aspects and an inharmonious Ascendant will weaken and corrupt these qualities.

Uranus in Sagittarius is strong on intuition. They are gifted with visions, precognitive dreams and the imagination. Their premonitions may be uncanny. If they develop these gifts it will serve them well. They may be attracted to practice the occult arts. They may be very religious and have a good understanding of educational theory. They may also want to help humanity as a whole. They like to travel and learn from their new surroundings.

Sagittarius Uranus may also be very eccentric or erratic in behavior. They may hold their own opinions on the law and religion. They could be rebellious in nature, and this may lead them into legal troubles. They may only see their side of the story, being oblivious to everyone else. They enjoy shocking people by what they say or do. They are adventurous and seek independence.

Sagittarius Uranus loves science and philosophy. They love to keep abreast of the latest discoveries. They don't like conventional thinking; they like to start anew. They are not afraid to put themselves in danger to seek knowledge. They love to be free to say what they want and go where they wish. Generous, open-hearted and progressive, they may stun others with their ways.

Uranus in Sagittarius does not like the rigidity of academics, but they understand the need for it. They are optimistic. They may find that their own beliefs come from feeling the spirituality that lives in everything around them. They are interesting to talk to, and they are always direct. This person is very open to trying new things. They may clash with those who hold traditional scientific or religious views.

Neptune in Capricorn:

Neptune in Capricorn is reserved and refined, especially in areas related to control, power, fame and success. They dream of wealth and power, even if they don’t quite know how to attain it. They can use their imagination to put just about any idea to practical use and turn it into money.

Capricorn Neptune is serious and likes to think things over. They have the ability to concentrate on anything that happens, so they can solve any problems that occur. Detail work is something they usually excel at. On the other hand, they may tend towards melancholy, secrets and deceit. When they get this way, they want to shut themselves away from the world.

Capricorn Neptune may be a bit conservative and traditional. They reflect on spiritual matters, and are inspired by the Great Masters of art, music and literature. Many become cynics or critics. They may be accused of not having enough compassion.

Neptune in Capricorn excels at organization and bureaucracy, and they are conscious of status. They like to be in authority. Their only problem is getting reality to work as they think it should. They may envision a system that runs smoothly, is responsive to the needs of all those involved, and that promotes on merit. It can be frustrating for them to deal with the harsh reality instead.

Personality Profile

The stubborn nature of Capricorn zodiac sign is reflected through their symbol, the mountain goat. This is where Neptune in Capricorn gets their drive and ambition, which helps them to come up with new ideas. For them, inspiration comes from logic, reason and the practical uses of different theories to better society.Neptune symbolizes imagination, illusion, spiritual enlightenment, spiritual inclination, occult and dreams. As a conservative personality, Neptune in Capricorn doesn’t often get “struck” by a creative thought. They develop their ideas more slowly and thoroughly, as they do everything else in their life.In fact, they would rather work on things at their own pace and in their own way. They don’t like to work together with others when brainstorming. More times than not, they would rather sit by themselves in quiet reflection. It’s the absence of noise and chaos that helps them to come up with innovative thoughts and strategies. And anything that has to do with business or success in their career stimulates them into utilizing their imagination.They are often obsessed with status, so Neptune in Capricorn tends to focus on ways to increase their wealth and influence. They like power and are always thinking of new ways to acquire more.

Capricorn Neptune Sign: Positive Traits

To ensure things go smoothly for them, Neptune in Capricorn people need to learn that not everything will work out in their favor. No matter how hard they try to remain in command of the situation, mishaps will occur over which they have no control.But it’s the way they handle these challenges that makes them stronger and more adept at handling the next one. And in their career, their managers will notice these kinds of situations and pay attention to how the Capricorn Neptune sign person approaches the problem.If they can maintain a calm exterior and strategize a solution quickly, others will take notice. And this kind of attention can earn a promotion, which means more wealth and higher status.

Capricorn Neptune Sign: Negative Traits

But because they are so rational, Neptune in Capricorn also has difficulty understanding when the world doesn’t work the way they think it should. They are so detail-oriented and plan everything out so meticulously that they get confused when others don’t follow their lead.They automatically take the reins of any situation for they think they know best, but not everyone will fall in line. Neptune in Capricorn finds this extremely frustrating and can sometimes fall into depression if they are continuously shot down by other people.They are used to being the authority and expect others to recognize that authority. If they feel they have lost control of a situation, their disappointment can consume them after awhile.

Pluto in Scorpio:

Born between November 1983 and November 1995, as the planet Pluto transited the sign of Scorpio, those in the ‘Pluto in Scorpio’ generation are bringers of radical transformation.

Understanding Scorpio

The archetype of Scorpio in our consciousness reflects a diversity of themes. As a natural law, Scorpio reflects the nature of transmutation; the process of metamorphosis; the caterpillar turning into the butterfly. Scorpio also reflect the law of impermanence, the process of death and rebirth, which connects deeply with the process of transmutation. Throughout our human psyche and physical/spiritual experience on Earth, the Scorpio energy influences how we assimilate with our karma.

Once we are born into this world, we are immediately subjected to environmental, cultural and parental influences. This process of social conditioning is what lays the foundation for our deeply-layered unconscious responses to emotional and psychosocial behaviour. It is through the process of Scorpio (transmutation) that we dig to the core of our being, confront our disempowering states, habits and impulses, and from there, transform, purify and change our lives for the better.

Pluto in Scorpio Generation

The Trauma Signature: Abandonment, Loss and Betrayal

For the Pluto in Scorpio generation, the healing of underlying trauma and the opportunity for metamorphosis comes through releasing all fears and emotions relating to three types of emotional trauma: betrayal, abandonment and loss. Due to the nature of the Scorpio archetype, every individual born with Pluto in Scorpio carries one or more of these three traumas in their energy signature, to some degree or another.

Abandonment: The father archetype (either a ‘blood’ parent or paternal figure) was absent during your younger years leaving you feeling abandoned. This may have been due to the father figure spending his time working, having left the family unit (divorce or separation), or simply not being present. As a result, the mother archetype (again, either blood parent of maternal figure) also felt abandoned by the absence of the father, which added to feelings of abandonment in the Pluto in Scorpio individual.

Loss: This trauma can be one of the most challenging to deal with, as it is for all of us when we lose people. For the Pluto in Scorpio generation, loss is typically reflected by the father passing away, or the loss of both parents. Either way this trauma left you feeling the absence of direction, safety and the guidance of a family elder.

Betrayal: Feelings of emotional betrayal within the family unit created the pain (and disempowerment) of deep mistrust in you. Trust in general is a major theme of the Scorpio archetype, and for you, the betrayal that happened between your parents or those very close to you plays a big role in how this is energy is expressed in your life. Having experienced betrayal within the family growing up, the karma you carry forward is the deep emotional suppression, a self-protective response typical of the Scorpio archetype, brought on by feelings of total vulnerability. In this emotional dynamic, the symbols, attributes and even people that represent empowerment to you (in place of the paternal influence) become psychological attachments that you gravitate towards, in order to help you establish a sense of identity that reflects power and empowerment. (This is also the same energetic imprint that relates to the police state.) However, as these attachments are rooted in externalized power, they themselves become experiences that have to be lived through and healed, in order for you to realize true, natural empowerment in your life.

N. Node in Aries:

Your North Node Life Path:

Aries and Libra are the signs of individuality and relationship. If you born with an Aries north node or a Libra north node, your life path involves balancing between self and others, being the solo star and the best supporting actor. The theme of “me versus we” is a running thread throughout your life. Relationships are your karmic classroom as you balance between your own needs and those of others. You may swing between getting lost in relationships and fiercely protecting your autonomy.

People with Aries north node/Libra south node have spent many lifetimes mastering relationships. In previous lives, they have been married and worked in close partnership. They come to this life with strong interpersonal skills, naturally seeking synergies. The risk is that they compromise too much or fail to develop their own identities. Many get married or sign binding arrangements before forming their own identities. Later in life, they may go back to blaze a solo trail. Aries north node people must embrace their inner star power. When they do, they may rise to public prominence or step into a leadership role. There they’ll bring their natural gifts of diplomacy and compassion.

Anger is a major lesson for Aries north nodes. In past lives as Libra peacekeepers they were never allowed to express discontent. This lifetime is “assertiveness training school.”  In the rare occasion they do get mad, their bottled-up anger can come out in frightening ways. Aries north nodes may even manifest bullying or rage-filled people until they make peace with their own anger. Their best path is to channel these emotions into justice work, championing the rights of people who have been silenced.

Aries North Node

Release (Libra south node): Hiding out in partnerships, being the “best supporting actor” instead of the star, taking the comfortable path, avoiding challenges, being the peacekeeper, making compromises, putting others first, passive-aggression, codependence, enabling

Embrace (Aries north node): Stepping out as a leader or star, prioritizing your own goals, being comfortable alone, the rewards of risk, fighting for your beliefs, expressing anger in an open and healthy manner

[teaganfoxwelltigertamer-blog]

“Yeah, she’s fine - she just got a divorce, came out as a lesbian, and is moving to California.” 

My mother casually explained what would be just the beginning of the most tumultuous time of my life - to my concerned relatives who frequented Facebook. This single sentence was enough to encapsulate all the tears, frustration, and heartache I would feel over the last few years - as well as the sense of self-truth, optimism, and freedom that I’d never before experienced. 

I’m writing this in case anyone else who may happen to stumble upon my blog is experiencing such things - in the hopes that you may find some semblance of peace or reassurance that others have dealt with such trying times and have gotten through it. I can’t say that I’ve cracked the code, but I’m working on it and I hope that some of what I’ve learned along the way may help you to get through it, too. 

I like lists, so I’ll just list out a timeline of what happened to me. Maybe you have a similar timeline? I hope this adds some context and maybe even lines up a little with what has happened to you. I hope you find something useful in my ramblings and know that everything will be okay :) 

Anyway. 

It’s difficult to pinpoint for sure when my life began to shift, but here’s my attempt:

May, 2011

I met HIM. I’ll call him “C”, for privacy reasons. We met because I was trying to get one of my pseudo friends to go out with a guy who also wouldn't leave me alone. This sounds super harsh, but I call her a “pseudo friend” because she was a nice enough person, but it was difficult to spend time with her because she would constantly only point out the negative in other people. The guy who wouldn't leave me alone, first struck up a friendship with me when I was dating a friend of his and he tried to swoop in immediately after he and I had parted ways. He was nice, enough, too, but I just wasn’t interested. On their first date, they decided to go to a bowling alley - and the girl invited me to come along. Maybe I’d meet someone, too. I did. Turns out, the guy went to the bowling alley every week with a group of guys (including C). The first interaction I ever had with C was when my friend-girl showed me a video of a ferret destroying a roll of toilet paper. C walked into our conversation and exclaimed “big deal, I destroy toilet paper, too - every time I eat Mexican food.” Later, he admitted that he didn’t like the guy, either - and neither one of us were huge fans of my pseudo friend.  So for years after that, I would tell people that we met because of mutual hatred  and he won me over with a poop joke. 

2013

Was a really good year. He bought a house and we moved in together. I got my braces off. I graduated college and got promoted at work. My dad and C helped me buy a new car. Everything was looking up. 

2014

After I moved out and my middle brother went to college, things started falling apart at home. My parents never really got along, but things had taken a turn for the worse. 

2015

My parents got a divorce. It was my dad’s decision, which is huge because he was always a very quiet person and rarely stood up for his beliefs if he knew it would hurt another person. Looking back, I’m really proud of him. I love my mom, but I understand how hard that must have been for him to finally stand up and speak his mind. 

My mom took it extremely hard, for good reason. She had never lived alone. She had never had a job where she had to support herself. She never had a job, period, during the time that my parents were together. She had not finished college (she claimed, because of me - but later admitted that she really could have if she wanted to). 

This is the same year that I got engaged. C awoke from a nap and asked if I wanted to go to the park. We walked down to a river and I picked up a little pebble I thought was pretty and said, turning around to look at C, “do you like this rock?” He revealed the little ring box and asked me the same thing. I said “yes.” 

But, even with the piece of jewelry on my finger, the small hole that I’d always sort of had in my heart began to grow into a ravenous mouth. I knew I needed something but I wasn’t sure what. I looked into a career change. I talked to C about getting another dog - a puppy. I even hinted at the idea that maybe I was experiencing baby fever. I knew we weren’t ready for a child, but I had to be honest with him about how I felt. As time went on, this intense feeling of need began to get physically painful. There were times where I felt like a planet without a core and I was crumbling in on myself. There was something huge missing inside me and all I knew was that it had something to do with love. I needed something to nurture and needed to feel nurtured, but I didn’t know what to do with it. 

At this same time, a woman at work, in a different group approached me for a job in her department. I would be working under a different person on her team, but her and I clicked well and the group she was part of, was a company I had always dreamed of working for, so I was hopeful that maybe this change would help solve my intensely sinking feeling. 

2016

This was a major year - one of the most difficult that I’ve ever experienced. My mother ended up attempting suicide twice. 

Both times, I visited her in the hospital. The second time, I asked her to promise me that she wouldn’t end up there again. When she said “I’ll try.” I wanted to scream at her because I wanted something more substantial, more real and reassuring that she wouldn’t do it again.

But, I know how it is. I used to be suicidal, too. I was anorexic for 3 years growing up, but that knowledge only hurt me more because she saw how much my actions hurt her. Now, she was hurting me and my brothers. It was hard for me to comprehend at the time that she couldn’t even consider that, but I understand now. She was just feeling hopeless. She wasn’t doing it with the intention of hurting anyone. She was doing it with the intention of escaping the bad feelings and the harsh reality she was experiencing - that’s all. 

At the same time, I was planning a wedding with C. As a stereotypical guy, C wasn’t super involved. He was making a good bit more than me, but because the wedding is for the woman (or whatever they say), I paid for most of it. 

At work, I was becoming closer and closer with the woman who recommended me for my new position. I’ll call her “A.” A was amazing. She quickly became one of my best friends. I could talk to her about anything and everything. I talked to her about my parents’ divorce and my mom’s attempted suicides.

I talked to her about a conversation I had with my mom after the second attempt, when I decided that my mom and I should be honest with each other about everything. I told A what I said to my mother, that I felt like she was in constant competition with me. I told A what my mother said in response, that she felt like *I* was competing against *her.* I told A my response, too - that, if I had a daughter, I would want her to be better than me and I wouldn’t try and hold her back for fear of “competition.” A hugged me a lot and cried with me many times. 

A was a wonderful confidant. She would listen to me. She would ask me what I needed to feel better and she would do just that. 

This same year, I contracted pneumonia after numerous expensive urgent care visits. All they could say was that I was coughing a lot and it appeared to be some sort of respiratory infection, but when I was prescribed an inhaler and still couldn’t breathe, it was obviously something more serious. One night, it got so bad, that my heart rate skyrocketed. I couldn’t breathe and my heart was pounding from all the failed inhaler attempts. C called an ambulance and I was whisked away, forced to stay in the hospital for 3 days. The doctor told me later that they were about to put me in the ICU - if they hadn’t have been able to get my heart rate down in the knick of time. 

When I came back to work, A decided I should work under her team - which was just her. 

We started having weekly pow-wows where we would talk about what we would say to our VP to convince him to have HR make the change. We fought against the machine, in our heads. We were standing up to the patriarchy, in our imaginations. I felt more supported than I ever had in my life. Never before had anyone ever fought so hard for me. Finally, the sinking feeling in my chest and in my soul began to lift. A was slowly solidifying the emptiness I’d felt so viscerally just months before I met her.

I talked to C about A all the time. She was my best friend and after months of fighting, she became my boss.

C and I got married that April. Our wedding was very relaxed and fun. I walked down the aisle to a song called “I Like Giants” by Kimya Dawson - because I thought it would be funny and the tune was lively and happy-sounding. 

I didn’t want a stuffy, conventional wedding and C and I accomplished that pretty well. However, looking back now, the song is kind of a funny tip-off to the events that would unfold. I like Giants. Especially girl giants.

C and I went on our honeymoon to Maine in May and then came back as husband and wife, back to normal life.

That July, A and I and the rest of our team went on a work trip to California. We would be gone for a week on the other side of the country. C was excited for me and I was nervous.

While there, I didn’t see A much. I was mostly restricted to working from the hotel and then worked on the floor another couple of days. 

One day, though, I got a text from my mom that a terrorist attack had occurred in Germany, in the same town that my dad and brothers were staying. I panicked. She tried to call them, but didn’t hear anything. I called and texted my brothers - nothing. The whole world starting to feel unstable as if a global earthquake was happening and I had nowhere to hide. 

Finally, I got a text from my youngest brother later that day. The attack had occurred right by their hotel. The attacker was still on the loose, but they were safe. They were on lock-down, restricted to their room. 

I texted both C and A about what happened. I needed someone to talk to, to confide in and be comforted by. Both texted me back and A asked me to meet her at the bar immediately.

I went to the bar and she was already buzzed. She gave me a big hug and asked how I was doing. On the way to the bar, my brother texted me and let me know that the attacker was found. They shot him and though everyone was shaken, they were now safe.

I told her the news and we were both relieved, but still anxious by the possibility that it could have been much worse. A got close to me and put her hand on her chest, then on mine and said “from my heart chakra to yours”, as if transferring loving energy from her heart to mine. 

I teared up and she gave me a hug. I didn’t feel like being out, so I thanked her and said goodbye - that I was going back to my hotel. She said “goodbye” and hugged me again, then found me as I was walking to the door and hugged me once more. 

The next day was the last day we’d be in California. We had a big department-wide dinner at a restaurant overlooking the ocean. A and I sat across from each other by the window and admired the gentle, rhythmic motion of the waves in the darkness. 

We talked about psychic abilities and energy. We talked about tarot readings and meditation. We talked about the afterlife. All things that C was not interested in. (C believed that when we died, that was it. I respect his beliefs, but they’re not my own). 

At one point, A exclaimed that she was bisexual. She told this as part of a story, but I got a strange feeling that she was telling me specifically. I never knew anyone who wasn’t conventionally heterosexual. But, then again, I didn’t know many people and had only a handful of friends aside from A.

I was also homeschooled from 2nd to 10th grade, so I missed out on a lot of things - including different types of people. 

At the end of dinner, we all piled into two cabs. A and I got into the same cab and sat beside each other in the backseat. We were both pretty buzzed at this point and for some reason, got on the topic of love. (I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised because any time I’m drunk, this is usually the first topic I discuss). 

We talked about how same sex marriage should’ve always been okay. We talked about how anyone who loves each other should be together - how they shouldn’t be legally banned from each other. We talked about Cocorosie, the band, and how she didn’t know anyone else besides me who liked them - but she was a big fan.

We got to my hotel first. We said goodbye and she wrapped her arm around me in a hug... and kissed me on the neck. 

In that small moment. In that 2 seconds of my life, everything changed. Like a match was struck in the pitch black darkness and suddenly, there was light. 

I went to my room and immediately called C. I told him what happened. I said it was probably nothing, but I couldn’t understand why I felt the way I did. Even if the kiss was nothing but friendly, there was a part of me that wanted it to be more. I was at a loss - both giddy and scared. C was at his parents’ cabin for the week and was very excited about what I was feeling. He asked me to tell him exactly how I felt and exactly what she did. I gave him context. I told him about the bisexual comment. I told him about how she looked me in the eyes whenever we talked like she was shuffling through my soul. I thought this was just what real friendship looked like between two women, but the kiss somehow made it different. Even if she was just drunk and meant it as a friend. Somehow this was a catalyst to the biggest change in my life.

This was just the summer of 2016. After this moment, I looked at A in a different light. I was determined to find out what she meant by the kiss - and I was inspired (yet cautious) to figure out what I wanted her to mean by it.

I became obsessed. 

I started writing her little notes and leaving them at her desk for her to find in the mornings. I started listening to her conversations or “feeling her energy” as she sat in the cubicle next to mine. If ever I got a sense that she was having a hard time or a bad day, I would immediately do everything I could to rectify it. 

We messaged each other constantly. We had two 1-on-1s a week with the intention to talk about work, but it never actually panned out that way. Instead, we’d meet at coffee shops or book conference rooms and talk about life for 2 hours. It was wonderful. 

During meetings, her and I would lock eyes and time would stop. I felt like she would bring me up at any chance she got. Whenever she would talk she’d say, “[T] does that, too” or bring me into the conversation in some way or another. She would touch me a lot, too. She’d rub my arm or put her hand on my shoulder. She’d make plans for both of us as if we were one unit. She would say things like “we should go home and take a nap.” As if we lived together. 

After work, we would always walk together. She would look over the cubicle wall and say “pack yo’ shit.” And we would walk to our cars. Sometimes, she’d forget to hug me ‘goodbye’ because she was in a rush and I’d look sad or say “I need a hug though!” and she’d give me one. Sometimes, she would be having an especially difficult day and she would give me long, tight hugs and rub my back and speak into my ear. 

At home, C would ask me how my investigation was going. He would ask me to tell him what I would do to A if given the chance, but I was shy. I wanted to kiss her, but I didn’t know what else. I felt like a 9 year-old boy who stumbled upon a porn magazine for the first time, exclaiming “wow, I really wish I could hold her hand.” 

It felt good to get so much support from C because he was pushing me. He wanted me to explore my feelings. But, there was a part of me that resisted because I was afraid of where it would lead me. Maybe I was bisexual, but maybe I was beyond that. Whatever it was, I wasn’t straight and that scared me because there was a possibility that my investigation could lead me to a painful conclusion - the truth.

2017

By 2017, it was pretty evident that the tide was turning. I started therapy to talk about my “issue.” She encouraged me, like C, to figure out why I felt the way I did about A. Was it just A or was it all women?

The more I got comfortable with the idea of A, the less I was attracted to C. It got to the point where I really didn’t want to do anything with him. I became disgusted with the idea of it. I never really saw men as attractive, but I always assumed that that’s how all women felt. There’s nothing wrong with them, but they don’t have those beautiful, elegant feminine curves or the delicate step that women do. I felt awful. I saw how much it hurt C to not be wanted anymore. I told him it wasn’t his fault. I told him he was doing nothing wrong - that the issue was inside me. 

It didn’t make anything better. 

I admitted to A that I was questioning my sexuality and she wasn’t surprised. She had (and has) a boyfriend, too. But they’re both bisexual, so she understood where I was coming from. I didn’t tell her she was the reason for it, but I think she knew even then that she was. 

She was a huge support for me, along with my therapist, and, unwittingly, C. 

C and I talked about ways to find out for sure. I was honest with him about everything. The therapist encouraged me to talk to C about what he would be okay with me doing - to find out if I was bi or gay or just confused. We decided that I should go out with a girl that I liked and see how it felt. I texted a friend of mine from high school. She was a girl that I, looking back, also had a crush on. At the time I met her, I just thought she was super cool and I wanted to spend a lot of time with her. 

C admitted that she was really cute, too. He was supportive and was excited for me as I asked her out. She was a bridesmaid at my wedding. Life is weird. 

She knew that I was questioning and she wanted to help me out, too. I told her that C knew and that I talked to him about it and we both agreed that it would be the best way to find out. I told her that I really did have a crush on her, too. I wasn’t just using her for this. She (I’ll call her “L”) is a very kind person, full of nothing but love and light, so she found nothing wrong with this. 

The first time L and I went out was during a big football game. C had his family over. I got dressed up and said goodbye to them. It was the first time I would miss a football game with them - because I had a date with a girl. His family was confused about why I was leaving and C told them I was supposed to hang out with a friend.

L and I went to a restaurant and laughed about how awkward we both were. It was exhilarating, but also nerve-wracking. I was married. I knew it wasn’t cheating if C knew what I was doing (and encouraged me to do so), but it still felt weird. I pushed through, though. 

L and I went back to my house, so she could get her car. We hugged and said our goodbyes, the way we had done so many times as friends, but this time, she shyly put her hands on my face and kissed my forehead. When she stepped back, I grabbed her, pulled her in, and kissed her on the lips. 

This was the first time I ever kissed a girl. She blushed immediately and laughed and said my name, giggling, calling me cute. I felt like the spark that had started in me was now an inferno. 

I felt truth. 

Her and I said goodbye and she went back to her car.

I walked inside and C’s family was still there. I felt myself beaming from the inside out. I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face. A part of me, looking back, was glad that L didn’t wear lipstick because it would’ve given me away.

When I saw C’s face, though, my heart dropped. 

When his family left, I told him exactly what happened. He nodded, understanding. He asked what I thought and how I felt. 

I told him the truth - or what I felt was my truth. I told him that I’m a lesbian. 

As I said the word, I felt like I had shot us both in the heart. I knew that I had only kissed L, but there was something in me that already knew before that kiss that I was who I am. 

He put his head in his hands and we both began to cry because we knew that it was the end. 

I moved out the next weekend to live with my mom. I spent two days with her, then moved in with my dad. 

I spent a couple weeks with him, then moved to a new apartment down the street from him. I picked the place mostly because it had a lot of windows and a covered porch that looked out into the woods and a tiny little stream. 

At this point, I was dead broke. I was broke from the pneumonia and the medical bills associated. I was broke from the wedding... and the up front costs of the apartment pushed me over the edge and into debt. 

I didn’t ask for anything in the divorce. I didn’t request alimony and I barely took what was mine. I wanted to travel light and I already felt bad enough about the circumstances that I didn’t want to put any additional, undue hurt on C. I never meant to hurt him and, in the end, he was supportive of me and my decision, but we both still left with heartache. 

When I came out to my therapist, she welcomed me with open arms and admitted that she was also a lesbian. She gave me a list of movies and TV shows to watch as if they were a welcome packet as I stepped into a foreign land. 

When I came out to my friends and family, they were a bit surprised (moreso than I thought they would be considering I was always a tomboy, didn’t like to wear dresses and named everything I owned “Tegan” from T&S), but very supportive. 

I know not everyone has this same experience, so I am grateful. I did, however, lose some friends. 

I lost one friend who thought she would be okay with it, but since she was another one of my bridesmaids, she had a hard time grappling with the fact that she had just stood next to me in my wedding to a man and was now asked to be okay with me wanting to date women less than a year later. I understood where she was coming from, but it still hurt.

The other friend I lost was L. I thought we were amazing together. She was adorable and kind and artistic. There was an innocence and a lightness to her that I’ve never seen in another human being. We went to two psychics together and both told us that we were soulmates. 

I told this to A and she said, “yeah but a soulmate could just be a friend. It doesn’t have to be a romantic thing”, which I thought was odd. 

The same day, (which happened to be International Women’s Day), I was helping A with something physical at work. We were taping something to a wall and when I needed the tape, she put it between her legs and said to me, “come on, it’s international women’s day, fool around with me.” 

Never before had she been so forward with me. There was one time she was having a particularly bad day at work, so I left her a little present at her desk and she thanked me by coming around to my desk and slowly, seductively (I thought, at least) blew me a kiss. But, that was it. 

Now she was forward with me. Now, when I had already moved on (A had and has a boyfriend and I didn’t want to interfere, so I forced myself to look elsewhere)... she decided to make it obvious. I brushed it off with a joke and said “if you want me to get fired, you can just fire me ‘cuz you’re my boss. You don’t have to make it a sexual assault thing.” 

I fell in love with L - and that was my downfall. 

I told her in a text message because I was drunk - and she didn’t say it back. I knew that was trouble, and it was. When I asked her if she wanted us to be official (I told her and we weren’t even OFFICIAL!??), she said she’d have to think about it. She told me she felt weird about it. She wasn’t ready. 

I was in a weird spot now. Alone in my apartment that I could barely afford, trying to make ends meet. I had lost an entire second family in the divorce. But, thank god I still had my own and I still had A.

L and I never slept together and I knew that was going to be an important milestone for me. A part of me was worried that I wouldn’t like sex with a woman and that I’d thrown away my marriage on a hunch without any real proof. What if I had thrown away an entire lifetime of what could’ve been - for a brief glimpse of who I thought I was?

I got on tinder and met a really sweet girl, I’ll call H. H was super cute and fiery. She was open and honest with me and went out of her way for me. I wish, looking back, that I could have appreciated her more. But, I met her in a weird spot in my life where I just didn’t care much about anything at all. Nothing really seemed to matter when I met H and I still regret that I couldn’t have met her at a better time, but everything happens for a reason.

I only went out with H a couple times, but each time, we slept together. She brought her fiery-self into the bedroom. There was an intensity to her that was breath-taking. The first time she stayed over, she asked me a few times if I was sure because she knew about my past, and I said “yes.” 

My first time with a woman was so drastically different from my first time with a man. The man didn’t ask because he didn’t even know he was my first. He just did and when it was over, I remember thinking “that’s it?” And when it was happening, I remembered thinking “it’s happening.” But, that’s all.

With H, she asked me first. She had already shared something with me that made her cry and I held her and said it was okay. We already shared something emotional together before we did anything and she asked me and she knew my backstory and I knew hers before anything happened. 

While it was happening was also drastically different. I felt the way I imagine reborn Christians must feel when they think they’ve found Jesus. I felt like a house with all the lights on for the first time. I felt like I had taken my first breath of fresh air in 26 years, like all the planets had aligned into a path that led me home. Even now, over a year later, I wish I could write poetry well enough to describe that moment when we both came at the same time. 

I had never felt that before and seeing her body was orgasmic in itself. I was finally letting myself see a body that I found beautiful without pretense. It was as if I had taken the gloves off and allowed myself to truly feel the silk smoothness of a satin gown - something I could have only previously imagined, but always refrained myself from trying. 

So yes, I thought, I am definitely a lesbian. I suddenly couldn’t imagine it any other way.

I was honest with H, like she was with me. I told her about my past and that I was on tinder still and that I was talking to a few people. I didn’t sleep with anyone else, but I wanted to be honest and let her know that I wasn’t ready for a relationship. She was a little hurt, but understood. 

One of these other people was someone I’ll call, “G.” G was dark and mysterious. She was artistic and strange. I wanted to solve her puzzle, uncover her darkness, and de-mystify the secrets of her universe. While talking to H, I was continuously drawn toward G like a planet toward the sun. 

The 2nd time I hung out with H said my goodbye to her in the morning, G texted me and asked if I could pick her up. Her mother had taken her to the city and she didn’t want to go home. I went to meet her. I heard her voice for the first time as we frantically tried to find each other at Piedmont Park. She was frustrated, but her southern drawl melted me. 

We met up at a little restaurant and got drinks. She told me stories about her childhood. She told me how she got her head stuck in the bleachers in middle school. She told me how she didn’t like her father. She told me stories about her “ma” - all through anxious impulse because I wasn’t talking. I just wanted to listen to what would come out next. 

After dinner, we decided to go back to my place so she could stay the night and I’d take her home the next morning. She sheepishly asked if I could take her to Wal-Mart first for some shorts she could sleep in and we milled around the men’s section for awhile before she settled on a pair and then went to my apartment. 

With G, I was awkward. I wasn’t sure if she liked me or not. With H, it was obvious because she would touch me, put her arms around me, ask if I want to cuddle, and then breathe heavy in my ear as she held me as if trying hard to restrain herself. With G, we sat on separate couches. I was not confident enough to make the first move and G didn’t try anything. We ended up watching Broad City until the sun was about to rise and then decided to go to bed.

I was awkward with this, too because I didn’t know if she wanted to sleep in the bed with me or not. She bought clothes at the store, so she was obviously not planning on sleeping naked. But, she still got in the bed with me. We started making out, but she stopped me and called me “dangerous” and a bad influence. And we fell asleep, doing nothing but lying beside one another.

The next day, I took her home and she looked at me the whole way back, the way no one has ever looked at me before. There was an adoration in her eyes I had never seen, like she was beaming, radiating love. 

I told H and she didn’t take it very well. I can understand that, though. 

G and I started seeing each other more and more, but we never slept together. I respected her though and let her take her time. 

About a month into us dating, I asked if she wanted to be official and she said “yes”, but not like that. She said “Yeah, I’ll be your bitch.” Which as an awkward person, was weird for someone to tell me, but G has her own way of doing things.

G bought me tickets to go skydiving for my birthday and I wanted to tell her I loved her, but I didn’t.

Thank god, we survived so I could tell her later.

At work, I had pretty much totally gotten over A. But, there were bigger issues at hand. A and I’s jobs depended on a social media site that the company we worked for suddenly deemed unimportant. There was blood in the water. The writing was on the wall: we were going to lose our jobs. 

I was already broke and I already lived in a spot which didn’t have too many job opportunities in my field. And I was already in debt.

That summer, we went to California for two weeks - the last big thing A and I did as part of our jobs. 

While there, I wrote G a letter every day and mailed it to her. Sometimes I sprayed the paper with perfume and sometimes I pressed jasmine flowers between the paper folds for her.

While there, I also confessed to A that I “used to” like her. She didn’t say it back. She said “I kinda always knew, but it feels good to hear you validate it.” 

I didn’t and still don’t know how to take that except that maybe she was just trying to see what her advances would do. Maybe she was just being friendly after all and when I took it too far, she only continued for the attention. Maybe she liked me back, but she wasn’t ready to admit it.

I don’t know how to take it because we were drunk and I was telling her about past lives. I told her that I thought in one life, I was her stable boy (lol) and she was a Queen. She wasn’t supposed to be with me, but her and I liked each other because I was kind to her and she liked how I treated her horses (I was drunk, ok?). She asked me if she thought that maybe in another life, we were supposed to be together and I said “yes.” 

While I was in California, my brother, who was caring for my apartment at home told me that it had flooded. Apparently, the upstairs unit had flooded and the water came in through the ceiling and caused a great deal of damage to their unit and mine.

When I came back, my home reeked of mold. The carpet in the bedroom was stiff and the air was thick and hard to breathe. I battled with the landlord almost every day, trying to clean up the mold and make the space feel inhabitable. 

About a month after A and I came back from California, I was offered a job there at an exciting company that I was always a fan of. 

I told G about it. A was conflicted because G and I had only been dating a couple months and moving together across the country was a huge step.

But, I’m stereotypical so we loaded up the U-HAUL (or whatever company we decided to go with) and then G and I jumped into my little sedan with my dog and her cat and whatever little knick-knacks we could fit, and drove across the country together - broke, in love, and hopeful. 

When I left my old apartment, I knew I would be breaking the lease, so I used the mold as leverage. Unfortunately, they didn’t buy it. Instead, they charged me more - $1295 as opposed to the regular $1095 I used to pay per month because the industrial fan they put in the bedroom to dry out the carpet ran up my electricity bill. I refused to pay it on the grounds that it was unfair and unlawful (and because my dad, A, and G all told me not to) - and took off. 

When we got to California after 3 days of driving, G and I had no idea what to expect. We had blindly picked an apartment in our price range without any notion of what the area would be like or what the commute would entail - so we chose a place in San Bernardino, almost 70 miles from my new job in Hollywood. Apparently there was a reason this apartment was reasonably priced. 

Stepping into the apartment for the first time was depressing - and eye-opening to how different California would be from Georgia. It was well-worn, the cabinets were loosely placed, the carpet was off-colored, the lighting was dim, and there was no fridge. This was far from the apartment I’d left in Duluth with the wood laminate floors, the giant windows, the wooded view, the upgraded appliances - but this was California. 

But, we made the most of it.

G spent most of her time looking for a job and I spent most of mine either driving to work, from work, or at work. It took me roughly 2 1/2-3 hours one way to get to my job. When G was able to find a job, she didn’t have a car, so I would drive her every morning and drop her off on the way to mine. I was waking up at 4:30am, taking her to her job, getting to mine at 8am, working till around 7pm and coming home at 10pm, going straight to bed and going through these same motions every single week day.

I was miserable. 

Then, three months into my job, my entire department was called in to a meeting. Without warning, we were instructed by a teary-eyed HR rep that that day would be our last with the company. Our entire 100+ person team was being laid off. 

At this point, the amount that I owed the old apartment was put into collections because the lawyer I had hired via the company I worked with was not answering his emails. I paid him $250 for his services - he had agreed with me that it was unlawful for the apartment to ask for the amount they were requesting because they not only violated their contract, but also health codes - but it took him over a month to write the letter, and because of that, I now had a negative mark on my credit report. 

And I didn’t have a job.

And I was on the other side of the country from everyone I knew.

And I was still broke. 

I spent every day applying for jobs in my field. I would drive G to work and then set up at a coffee shop and just apply for jobs and write cover letters until it was time to pick her up.

I was driving myself insane and I was becoming resentful, trapped in a constant loop of trying to do something for someone else. I couldn’t afford to do anything and was afraid to spend too much time on me for fear that I wouldn’t pick G up in time, that I might make her wait too long. I was afraid to spend a day not applying for jobs because I felt useless otherwise, that I was wasting my time or not trying hard enough. 

After months of applying and only a handful of interviews, I finally landed a job. It paid less than my previous one, but it was something and I was grateful to be getting regular paychecks.

But, this new job was insane. I was working 11-12 hours a day, plus still taking G to work in the mornings. I was driving 2-3 hours one way or up to 6 hours every day to/from San Bernardino. I felt my sanity slip. 

G and I no longer connected the way we used to. I was resentful, quiet. I just wanted to sleep and be left alone. She began to lash out with sarcasm and biting words that stung me and I shrugged off like bees (even though I held onto the little stingers as fodder for future arguments). 

I began to regret bringing her with me. Even though she paid half the rent, I began to fantasize what life would be like, living as a roommate with a total stranger closer to work. 

I talked to A and another friend back east about our problems. At one point, G had mentioned hanging out with some other girls and then made excuses about why we couldn’t all hang out together, when I suggested it. At another point, our relationship status was no longer visible on her Facebook profile and I lost it. It sounds so petty looking back, but we were on such thin ice that something as small as a twig could’ve broken it.

2018

The straw that broke the camel’s back was my dog. My dog has been with me through everything. I adopted her when I was with C, as a puppy. I raised her. Never before had I had a dog so loving as her, so emotional as Lolo. I treat Lolo like I would a child and I would give my life for hers. 

One day, not long after Valentine’s Day, G had left a box of chocolates on the floor. Lolo had found it. It was a weekend, so thankfully, I wasn’t working - but it was one of those rare days when G had to do so on a Saturday.

I remember stepping out of the shower and seeing Lolo (happily) lapping up the last little bit of chocolate in the box. 

I immediately texted G and asked how many chocolates were in it - did she remember how many she ate? I told her Lolo ate them and I needed to know roughly how much and if it was dark or milk chocolate so I could tell the vet.

G was defensive. She didn’t know, she said. She was also not worried about it, but I was. If you don’t know, chocolate is toxic to dogs - dark chocolate, in particular. And Lolo is a medium-sized dog, so it wouldn’t take too many chocolates to paralyze or even kill her. 

I called the vet and rushed her to an emergency vet as quickly as I could. I remember the bill was roughly $600. They had to pump her stomach and kept her in observation overnight. The woman at the counter asked me how she ate so much chocolate and I told her that my “roommate” had accidentally left a Valentine’s gift on the floor. The woman asked if my “roommate” was going to help me pay and I, teary-eyed and broke, said “no.”

G didn’t help me pay for the vet bill. She apologized, though, and when she came home, she had picked me up a bouquet of flowers and a stuffed animal bunny.

I had enough, though. I told her it was over. 

But, we had gone through this before. I had tried breaking up with G in the past. I had gotten pretty far, I thought, but G always roped me back in.

This time, I was resolute. G told me that I didn’t really want to break up. She told me that I was just stressed and I needed “help.” A part of me believed her, but the rest of me knew that it was gas lighting (and my therapist, A, and another friend said the same). G told me I needed drugs. That I only wanted to break up because of all the stress I was going through, that I didn’t get enough sleep.

But, I was done.

G and I broke up for a week. 

I reached out to everyone I knew for advice, but I didn’t know anyone. I had Lolo with me and no one could take in a dog. I wasn’t going to get rid of my child - as dramatic as that sounds. Lolo was the only thing I felt I had left - and thank god, I still had her.

I finally found a potential roommate on Facebook - another girl who was also looking for an apartment, ASAP, in the same areas that I was looking in, with the same price range. It seemed perfect. The girl was very nice and seemed easy to get along with, so I was hopeful. 

Every night, though, I had to come back to the apartment in San Bernardino, to the same girl I had fallen in love with and had moved across the country with. The girl I had asked to uproot her life to be with me. She would sit, balled up on the floor, and cry when she found something small and seemingly insignificant - a sock I gave her for Christmas, a little post-it I had put in her bag on her first day of work. It tore me to pieces to see her like that and I thought about how I had to see C like that just over a year prior. I felt like a monster going through peoples’ lives, tearing them apart. 

G wanted me to continue sleeping in the bed with her, so I did, thinking that maybe it would help her somehow, like a small token of kindness. 

G resolved to change, though. She decided I shouldn’t be driving her to work every day (which I was too stubborn to admit until everything fell apart). She bought a car the same day that we had split, but she didn’t just buy a car, she bought a Camaro. Which, told me that she had at least enough to buy a Honda Civic before any of this even happened. You know, something to just get her from A to B. I was enraged. Especially, because she asked me to drive her 2 hours to go get it from Hemet. To me, this just solidified my decision to leave.

But, as the week grew on, I became less resolute. Seeing her break down. Hearing her talk to her mother on the phone about how hard it would be. I decided she should take the San Bernardino apartment. It was closer to her work than it was to mine anyway and I��didn’t want to put her in a bind. We met with the landlord and had them replace her name with mine on the lease.

Meanwhile, I met with my potential roommate a few times to tour various apartments in North Hollywood. We settled on a place and put in our applications. That same night, the money I owed the previous apartment finally showed up on my credit score (previously it didn’t affect anything except that debtors were calling me every day). 

Needless to say, we didn’t get the apartment. I felt like shit. I warned the girl about what might happen, but since it wasn’t on my report, I was hopeful. I didn’t want to ruin her chances of getting a place, so I pulled out of the deal - hoping she could find someone else and have a better chance getting the next apartment she applied for.  

But now, I had no options and the landlord at the San Bernardino apartment had told G that I needed to leave because I was legally not allowed to stay in the apartment anymore since I was no longer on the lease. 

So, here I was - facing homelessness in an unfamiliar city on the other side of the country. 

This was, by far, the hardest week of my life. Honestly, harder than the divorce I had just gone through.

Then, I broke. 

A week after we split, I woke up next to G, who decided to test the waters and put her arm around me in the Saturday morning sunlight. I let her. My eyes welled up with tears and I put my hand on top of hers and held on tight. I scooted in closer to her after a week of sleeping on the opposite end of the bed, cold, and un-moving. It felt like heaven feeling her body once again, feeling her arms on me one more time. I felt like I had been sleeping on the cold hard ground, like I had truly been homeless - and had finally been offered solace and a soft, warm bed. 

When G and I got back together, it hurt my friendship with A. I had confided in A about my relationship with G, just like I had confided in her about everything else. She didn’t believe that I had made the right choice, knowing what she did about G (from what I told her, at least). I felt like I let the whole world down. I was both relieved to see G’s smile again and be in someone’s arms and have some semblance of solid ground - and terrified with the idea of losing my friendship with A.. and equally terrified that I had potentially only gotten back together with G because the alternative seemed too difficult or scary. 

For awhile, I was skeptical. I was skeptical about G’s newfound warmth and openness. I was skeptical about our future and about my own reasoning for staying in the relationship. But, it seemed like G had transformed overnight. She was driving herself to work every day and was much kinder in her words.

When G and I first started talking, I told her she reminded me of a burned down forest in the snow. I saw tall, sharp, black skeletons of pines jutting up from the white snow. I heard nothing but the lonely call of a raven somewhere in the distance, piercing the quiet and echoing through what once was - or could have been - a lush and lively forest. But, I told her I also saw the little buds of leaves beginning to unfurl upon branches too resolute or perhaps too stubborn to stay barren. I saw tiny tendrils of flowers and the bright green spikes of springtime grass in little clumps piercing through the ice. I think when most people saw her, they saw the harsh coldness and the spiky, almost dangerous hint of death and destruction. But, I was looking for those little signs of life and love and I wanted to help them grow.

Over the course of our relationship, G proved that initial metaphor to be true. She had experienced a lot in her 26 year relationship - from the deaths of past lovers to trauma and neglect to drug use and even an attempted murder that left her in the hospital and caused her to drop out of college. The world forced G to be cold, to build a shell around herself - but I saw the little flecks in her armor where the light shined through and I only wanted to help nurture those vulnerabilities. 

When we got back together, she had taken off quite a bit of her shell. She was more affectionate, but also more determined. We decided that we needed to live closer to Los Angeles (where I worked) and she spent a good deal of time looking for apartments. When we finally settled on a town, we went on several tours together on the weekends, but since she got off work earlier in the day that I do during the week, she took the initiative to go any time and anywhere she could in the hopes that it would find us something sooner.

She found an adorable little place and we both fell in love with the town, the apartment, and with each other all over again. 

Not everything is perfect now, but we are making it work. 

TL;DR -

If you are going through a lot right now, just know that it WILL get better. The thing is, is that you can't just wait for it to get better. You have to make it so. 

I have 2 other friends who went through divorce - with drastically different experiences. One met the love of her life while married to the “wrong” man and ended up getting pregnant just months after leaving her ex. She runs a school now (her dream) and has a beautiful little family and an adorable apartment that she shares with a man who shares the same dreams and passions that she does.

The other was married to the wrong woman and was married too young. After her divorce, she began to pursue her passions - she now works for the city and cares for the trees, does graphic design, is working on her music, going back to school to finish her degree, and is having a great time doing the things she enjoys most of all. 

Obviously, I’m not saying that divorce is the solution to all life’s problems. I’m just saying that sometimes life sucks and sometimes it sucks for a long-ass time. I’m still broke. Every time I think I’m able to save money, California says I owe them $800 or my car decides it needs $600 or my dog reminds me that vet bills are never less than a couple hundred... but it’s all just a process.

And in any case, I believe in you :) You can do it. Just don’t give up :) 

[corneliussteinbeck]

How Strong Can A Woman Get, Really?

“Men are just stronger than women. It’s just a fact.”

Well, is it now? This article aims to take a case with common misconceptions and facts regarding women’s ability to get strong and how strong they can get.

At a young age, I learned about a glorious (and a soon-to-be frustrating thing) called “weight class.” Man, did I love elementary school. I could bully the bullies, guys were all my size, and the playing fields leveled. Sports were a genuine co-ed experience, and I was ambivalent to being desired or seen as a conquest. I was an unapologetically feisty girl, able to pound the crap out of mean boys who made fun of a nerdy or overweight kid. I felt like a damn superhero.

Then, we all got older.

Grow spurts and puberty changed the playing fields. I went into it naive and quickly realized how little and weak I was compared in size to them. To this day I pay much respect to size and weight class because when you find yourself on the losing side of someone’s 70-pound advantage, no amount of gumption matters.

In physical trials you need size, strength, and smarts — and even then, you might not come out on top.

What does all this bemoaning about weight class have to do with how strong a woman can get?

In our society, strength is relevant to our comparisons, especially when comparing women to men. It shouldn’t be, but in the context of this article, .why talk about how strong a woman can get without talking about one of the main reasons it’s discussed in the first place? Articles discussing the strength abilities of men often focus on strength whether or not steroids are involved, and culminate with lessons in continued optimization. It is already assumed that men can be strong; what is debated then is how strong they can get.

For example, it’s assumed a guy can help you carry a couch from one home to another. What might be debated with regard to his strength is whether or not he can lift a car off a helpless victim. In a gym setting, the average Joe lifter might be told he should be able to at least load 225 pounds on a bar, while the average Jane lifter is overwhelmingly advised to just stick with the bar, regardless of each one’s height and weight. Generally, it is assumed that the point of lifting for women isn’t to get strong at all, but rather to stay pretty.

How strong a woman can get is rarely up for debate. Society doesn’t assume women can be strong, and even if some people believe in women’s physical strength, it’s always to a judgmental “lesser degree” than their male counterparts. It’s culturally assumed that women are weaker and that if we can get strong, it’s pitiful compared to men.

The truth is that strength isn’t black and white. One of the biggest lies we’ve been told regarding a woman’s strength abilities is that she could never be stronger than a man.

It’s Really Pound For Pound

Yes, a five-foot-four-inch woman weighing 135 pounds could never best, pound for pound in strength, a six-foot-four-inch man weighing 220 pounds — but neither could a five-foot-four-inch man weighing 135 pounds. That’s not a truth we hear often though, is it? We hear tales of David and Goliath all the time, but the truth is that size matters for men, too.

For example, take a collection of the most pragmatic men with regard to the possibilities of absolute strength: professional fighters. The good ones learn very quickly that weight (and within that weight, body types and body composition) is crucial in leveling the playing field. These are small variables that along with skill — not to mention good old-fashioned fear, placebo effect, and timing — can make or break a champion.

People celebrate Michael Phelps, and yes, he is incredibly good at what he does, but his weight, body type, and numerous genetic factors that he can’t control, provide Phelps an edge. Katie Ledecky, four inches shorter and 40 pounds lighter, with less overall muscle mass, clocked the same prelim time on the 400m freestyle.1 This isn’t to suggest she could be him, but it’s impressive nonetheless. It’s as impressive as other smaller men and women who have almost caught them both in a race. The average height and weight of high-level athletes mean everything. It’s why, when people are cheering about impressive athletes, it’s important to look past it and take into account a host of factors that shift appreciation of the athletes themselves to appreciation of their hard work and efforts.

Society has barely begun to see the full reach of women’s strength potential.

People scoff at the notion that Brienne Tarth of Game Of Thrones (portrayed by Gwendoline Christie) couldn’t be a realistic hero, but I beg to differ, my friends. She is six foot three and solid. Maybe she wouldn’t make an NFL offensive tackle look like a rag doll, but most men couldn’t either. Six foot three is not an average height for men or women. I would not want to be punched in the face by the end of her sword handle and most men wouldn’t either. In short, she is a very realistic and capable hero in the world in which she battles.

What does the science say?

One caveat before diving in is that there are some noted differences between genders in hormones and muscle fibers, especially in the upper body. However, those are not as dramatic as the interpretation of research often suggests, especially when looking at sample sizes.

Let’s look at muscle fibers in general, for instance. Muscle fibers are different between genders, individuals, and even within an individual’s body.2, 3 Genetic differences, however small they may seem, play a much larger role than we realize in the literal shaping of a body.4 This is why comparing yourself to a five-foot-eleven woman when you’re five foot two is not realistic.

When we look at how men and women respond to resistance training we see in some areas growth response is very similar.5 We also see that it isn’t just growth gaps between men and women, but also within the gender compared within themselves. In short, it’s not just, “Men always grow muscle easily, and women can’t grow muscle.” It’s more like, “Some men grow muscle easily, and some don’t. Same goes for women.” When we stack size, weight, nutrition control, and the similar fiber types — oh wait, we haven’t done that.

Where does that leave us, then? It leaves us having to read between the lines in a lot of the research. Keep in mind that men are the most commonly studied subjects in hypertrophy and strength research, and even then, they are often not properly controlled.

Women can go longer, and be faster, bigger, and stronger.

Here’s a notion you might not have thought of yet that could inspire you to build strength:

Bigger is stronger, and even then only technically — and even then, there are still exceptions to the rule. Let’s look at the science using some common sense rather than the lazy generalizations we’ve accepted as fact for too long.

Size matters more than gender.6 It matters that men, on average, are bigger and not only in fat mass but mostly in muscle mass.7 But, guess what? It isn’t about them in the first place. I know it may seem a contradiction to say it isn’t about men when a large part of this article has been about them, but we can’t ignore the elephant in the room.

I can’t drive home this point strongly enough — if you strength train, you are already ahead of the majority of the population. Your ability to get strong, even naturally, is exceptional. Keep these things in mind:

We all vary greatly in height, weight, muscle fibers, and genetics.

Comparison, in my modest opinion, is a wasted exercise. But if you must compare, compare in weight classes and take overall muscle mass volume into consideration — and I haven’t even touched on issues relating to variations of female advantages in endurance, balance, and recovery.

Studies have shown that simply believing that you have the ability to be strong with placebo steroid use leads to greater strength gains.8 In short, if you believe you can, you can.

So, how strong can a woman get, really? In arriving at an answer, size matters, but the belief in what you can do matters the most.

References

Zaccardi N. Michael Phelps jokingly challenges Katie Ledecky to race. NBC News Sports. Apr 2015.

Miller AE, MacDougall JD, Tarnopolsky MA, et al. Gender differences in strength and muscle fiber characteristics. Eur J Appl Physiol Occup Physiol. 1993;66(3):254-62.

Kristen L Schroeder, Benjamin WC Rosser, Soo Y Kim. Fiber type composition of the human quadratus plantae muscle: a comparison of the lateral and medial heads. Journal of Foot and Ankle Research 2014; 7:54.

Hughes DC, Day SH, Ahmetov II, et al. Genetics of muscle strength and power: polygenic profile similarity limits skeletal muscle performance. J Sports Sci. 2011 Oct;29(13):1425-34.

O’Hagan FT, Sale DG, MacDougall JD, et al. Response to resistance training in young women and men. Int J Sports Med. 1995 Jul;16(5):314-21.

Roth SM, Ivey FM, Martel GF, et al. Muscle size responses to strength training in young and older men and women. J Am Geriatr Soc. 2001 Nov;49(11):1428-33.

Bishop P, Curetin K, Collins M. Sex difference in muscular strength in equally-trained men and women. Journal Ergonomics. Mar 1986.

Ahiel G, Saville W. Anabolic steroids: the physiological effects of placebos. Medicine & Science in Sports & Exercise 4(2) · January 1972.

  A message from GGS…

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