The Unraveling

xoxfiles  asked:

Scully loves wearing Mulder's shirts, especially the one she never gave back in the first year of their partnership ... but now 5 years later, it's falling apart. .... Here you go, do your magic :-) xo

There is the Tarkhan dress, Egyptian linen, knife-pleated sleeves, six thousand years old. There is a woman from Jutland, strangled and heaved into the peat, her blackened body still wrapped in soft, perfect wool. There is a sage-gray cotton t-shirt from the Gap, size XL. 

Although she’s washed it countless times, she swears it still smells like him, like the libraries at Oxford, like sleepless nights in Alexandria. There’s a faint, stubborn bloodstain on the fraying collar, a remnant of cancer. A tear near the hem, courtesy of a temperamental Pomeranian. The stitching on the shoulder is unraveling, and in places, the fabric is as thin and translucent as gauze. She has taken to wearing it less and less, rationing the guilty pleasure of it like sugar in wartime.

It was Oregon, in 1993. Her first foray into fieldwork, and the most alive she’d ever felt. Fox Mulder was a wolf of a man, all wilderness and poetry, strange and mournful and gorgeous. She couldn’t pin down the colour of his eyes. 

She pretended to forget her pajamas. He tossed her one of his running shirts and a crooked grin. What she’d really wanted was his skin on hers, his hot breath, his long fingers. But there were rules. 

Tonight is one of those lonely nights where she’ll bring this shirt out, press her face into the slackening weave, and wonder how much longer it will last. How much longer she will, before this monumental thing between them comes to a head. 

She pulls it on, crawls into bed, and hits ‘1′ on her speed dial. His voice is temple linen on the line. 


I saw the Huldremose Woman in Copenhagen a few years back. Man, if ever there was a memento mori, if ever there was a humbling and beautiful face of death, a reminder of the slow and inexorable march of time, she is it.

The museum was almost empty that day. They’ve got her in a small, dark room, backlit by a two-panelled wall painted like a moody winter forest. There’s a bench beside her display case, and I sat with her for a long while, bewitched by the texture of her skin, her sweet, charcoal-coloured toes. She looked so cozy, swaddled in her scarf and cape, so small, so real. I wanted to unfurl one of her hands and hold it. 

You know the book it’s a good book when destroys your life.

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crey

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Juliette Ferrars thought she’d won. She took over Sector 45, was named the new Supreme Commander, and now has Warner by her side. But she’s still the girl with the ability to kill with a single touch—and now she’s got the whole world in the palm of her hand. When tragedy hits, who will she become? Will she be able to control the power she wields and use it for good?

I want to be the friend you fall hopelessly in love with. The one you take into your arms and into your bed and into the private world you keep trapped in your head. The one who will memorize the things you say as well as the shape of your lips when you say them. I want to know every curve, every freckle, every shiver of your body.
—  Tahareh Mafi, Unravel Me
When reading a new book
  • Me: *finds the most pyschotic, handsome, and evil asshole in the series*
  • Me: You are my new book boyfriend and I will love you until the ends of the earth.
  • Me: Touka is pregnant. While they're at war.
  • Unravel: *starts playing*
  • Me: Touka is trying to keep her child eating human food. A child of Kaneki's
  • Unravel: Oshiete yo oshiete yo...
  • Me: Kaneki's who just recently achieved equilibrium as an individual
  • Unravel: ... sono shikumi w-
  • Me: I GET THIS STORY'S A TRAGEDY ALREADY WOULD YOU PLEASE SHUT UP

“We are synonyms but not the same.
Synonyms know each other like old colleagues, like a set of friends who’ve seen the world together. They swap stories, reminisce about their origins and forget that though they are similar, they are entirely different, and though they share a certain set of attributes, one can never be the other. Because a quiet night is not the same as a silent one, a firm man is not the same as a steady one, and a bright light is not the same as a brilliant one because the way they wedge themselves into a sentence changes everything.
They are not the same.”

— Tahereh Mafi, Unravel Me

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“Unravel” by TK, from the opening of “Tokyo Ghoul”

#unravel #tk #tokyoghoul #anime #lingtositesigure #piano #pianist #music #musician #musiclife #凛として時雨 #北嶋徹 #東京喰種 #アニメ #アニソン #ピアノ #ピアニスト#音楽 #ミュージシャン #東京グール (at Los Angeles, California)

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