clean letters

Lost Letters - Three

|| Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five || Part Six || Part Seven || Part Eight

TXF |MSR | Revival - Post Home Again | Angst | PG | 3/8


November 24th, 2:14pm

Scully doesn’t answer. 

Not even when Mulder’s knocking ceases to be an act of man and takes on the devastating volume and endless, ominous roar of overhead thunder. He knocks until he feels the skin split on his knuckles, until he hears the chain sliding free on the next door down the corridor and then he breaks a promise he made to Maggie Scully for the first time. She had blushed a little when she’d handed him the key copied from Scully’s spare, knowing that her daughter would be furious but also knowing that sometimes Mulder’s instincts had saved her life. Maggie had made him promise not to reveal her small betrayal, holding her hand over the key in his until he’d met her eyes and given his word that he would only use it in dire circumstances. Life or death she had said, trusting him with the key to her beloved child and putting her faith in his judgement.

As the door swings open Mulder imagines how Maggie would look if she realised how badly he might have failed her; that the day on which he uses the key might also be the day he is too late to save Scully.

The air inside the apartment is cold and unscented. Mulder shivers. Scully had a habit of making even a one-night motel room smell like her shampoo and body lotion, so this cool, sterile space feels very, very wrong. He realises, as he blindly forces one foot in front of the other, that he is staring at the floor, dreading the sight of a blue-white arm draped stiffly on a couch back, a too still body in the bed or a vivid pool of thickening red creeping from the bathtub. Even as he fights it, Mulder’s mind imposes Scully’s face, the laugh lines he has counted and kissed so often he could draw them from memory, onto every crime scene he has witnessed. The macabre trip down memory lane is so visceral that he has to bite back bile and force his eyes up to survey the apartment. 

She is not here.

There is no trace of her. Not her shoes or her handbag by the door, no kettle on the stove and none of her favourite furniture. It could be a room from a catalogue: there are no photographs, no medical journals, the shelves hold neither her books or the CDs she had insisted on keeping even after she eventually switched her walkman for an iPod. There is no blanket tossed over the back of the couch for her to pull down when her feet invariably get cold with Mulder not there to rub them. The walls are white and undecorated, devoid of the bold harvest colours she had loved to strew about for thanksgiving, the few Christmas ornaments she would always sneak out early because she loved the sound of the chimes on the spinning angel candle holders. There is no warmth, no joy… no Scully in this room at all.

Keep reading

I found a thing. 😍

A Spy’s Guide to Tortall
Release date: 31/10/17

The secrets of Tortall are revealed… .

As Tortall’s spymaster, George Cooper has sensitive documents from all corners of the realm. When Alanna sends him a surprising letter, he cleans out his office and discovers letters from when King Jonathan and Queen Thayet first ascended the throne, notes on creating the Shadow Service of spies, threat-level profiles on favorite characters, Daine’s notes on immortals, as well as family papers, such as Aly’s first report as a young spy and Neal’s lessons with the Lioness. This rich guide also includes the first official timeline of Tortallan events from when it became a sovereign nation to the year Aly gives birth to triplets. Part history, part spy training manual, and entirely fascinating, this beautiful guide makes a perfect gift and is ideal for anyone who loves Alanna, King Jonathan, Queen Thayet, Kel, Neal, Aly, Thom, Daine, Numair, and the unforgettable world of Tortall!

@finally-clean-in-wonderland

My love

  I couldn’t sleep, being away from you fucking sucks balls. I’m writing this down because if I don’t, I’ll be a chicken shit and not tell you.

  I miss you. I miss sleeping next to you, feeling the tiny bit of heat you give off. I miss the little fucking noises you make, not snores, just whimpers and sighs, fucking adorable doll. I miss rolling over and placing my arm around you. I miss touching your sleepy face in the morning, giving you sweet kisses. Which leads to a little early morning fuckity de-fucking-light.

 Jackie, I know it’s going to fucking sound stupid, but you have changed my life. Jesus, baby, you’ve changed the whole fucking dynamics in the Sanctuary. You’ve made me a better leader, a better man.

  The first time I truly knew I loved you, was deeply in love with you was that during that goddamn fucking rainstorm we were stuck in. The fuckers driving didn’t see the deep water and drove through it, causing them all to stall out. We were fucking stuck until help came. I was fucking pissed, and you knew it.

 You took my hand, pulling me closer, whispering in my ear, come with me Negan. I’m thinking, shit! This doll is fucking wild, going do a little fuckity dancing, mmhmm!

 But the next thing I know, you were pulling me out of the truck, into the pouring rain, thunder and lightning all around. Dance with me Negan, live a little! Jesus, baby girl, you were crazy beautiful, I just followed you like a fucking lovesick teenager. Your hair plastered to your face, what little makeup you had on, quickly running down your face. Your clothes adhering to your gorgeous curves. Breathtaking, simply fucking breathtaking.

 When I get back, we are going to enjoy our time together. I can’t take you anywhere fucking special, but I can treat you special, and I will, doll. I can’t give you the world, but I can give you me, all of me. I am yours baby, forever and a day. My love, my Jackie.

Negan

  • me: I'm bored
  • me: *has 1234567890 list of activities, homeworks, and projects all due tomorrow*
I’m clean of you now I think. I know I wrote this so long ago, but as I contemplate the last few months of my life and then the last few days, I realize it’s true. It’s finally true. Like an addict I’ll always miss you, but now the memories of you only find their way into my thoughts when I force myself to think of you. I can finally sleep at the beach and look at the sky and see the colors that they are. I no longer think of the blue of your eyes, the white of your smile, or the sound of your laugh. I’m clean and I don’t think I’ll ever go back. And the most beautiful part of this is that it didn’t take someone new for me to realize this, it only took a moment in quiet serenity. It is in moments like these where the past with you would normally invade my thoughts like an army on a beach, but now my mind is filled with an invasion of the colors of the sky and the glitter of the stars and the hope of something new.
—  Twitter | IG @rachelmburgess