her territory

SHOUT OUT TO DR. MORVEN DIGBY- THE UNDISPUTED MVP OF EPISODE 13!

Fun fact, in 1962, India and Portugal went to war against each other, over small patches of land in India called Goa, Daman and Diu
that had belonged to the Portuguese for almost 500 years

It was a crushing defeat for the Portuguese, as they didn’t have enough military assets in the area to mount any credible resistance, and thanks to international pressure, their attempts at reinforcing their military presence where limited to shipments of infantry and small arms, their only heavy weapon of notice in the region being an obsolete sloop, the NRP Afonso de Albuquerque, of the pre-war era, that was quickly sunk by the more modern Indian warships:

The war was also the first time a developing nation used an aircraft carrier in a military operation, in the form of the INS Vikrant

Lasting over 36 hours, it was a quick but decisive conflict that finally gave India full sovereignty over her territories, while at the same time showing Portugal just how alone they were in their ultimately futile attempts at keeping their colonies, something that would be known as the Portuguese Colonial Wars, which lasted until 1974 and effectively brought to an end the Portuguese Empire. 

4

Just a Bro™ being jealous and territorial over his other Bro

voltron shrek au

alright. alright alright alright alright.

  • KEITH is quite obviously SHREK. loner. off-putting personality. intimidating at first. probably smells weird. odd concept of what constitutes hygiene. good heart. not the best socially. puts in effort that often goes unnoticed thanks to preconceived notions. could benefit from a lot of hugs. impulsive. also: keith lives out in the desert, shrek lives out in the swamp. 
  • GET OUT OF MY SHACK (BASS DROPS) SHACKSHACKSHACKSHACKshaaaaaCK
  • now this may throw some of you for a loop, but HUNK is DONKEY. anxious. tendency to ramble. appreciative of what’s important. vocal about it when annoyed or upset. supportive and loving, but ultimately aware of your bullshit and will call you on it if necessary. scares easily. aware of his own mortality. gets stuck in threatening situations because of his friends. tries to have a positive outlook. a good friend to have on your side. hilarious. genuine. would make u waffles.
  • LANCE is FIONA. critically underestimated. demands the #best out of life. a little spoiled + loves to be pampered. petty as hell. easy to toss over your shoulder. sarcasm as a pseudo-coping mechanism. actually very accepting. big heart. not afraid of Emotions. hard fucking worker. lowkey leadership skills. damsel in distress but accompanied by the trope of being Surprisingly Competent. grody jokes. certified nastie. genuinely supportive pal. will fuck u up… but at what cost… at what cost….

and did somebody say PLOT??????

  • haha too bad, i don’t have one
  • ok that’s a lie i have half of one
  • keith is the human child of a galra commander who was killed in battle. he basically raised himself on this alien planet away from everyone else because he wasn’t accepted and treated as an outsider/monstrosity
  • lance, a prophesied paladin of voltron, is kidnapped from earth and locked away in space with the discovered lion, left there to rot as bait for the other eventual paladins/lions
  • it’s surprisingly effective as a means of weeding out the rebels against galra rule
  • that is until zarkon starts taking captives instead of killing them all, because he still is no closer to obtaining the black, yellow, or green lions
  • shortly after this is when shiro manages to escape and crash land on earth, found by hunk and pidge, who are desperate in their search to recover their lost friend lance, whose disappearance (*pidge voice* ABDUCTION) was covered up by The Garrison, same as the disappearance of pidge’s family
  • (yes, this makes SHIRO the GINGERBREAD MAN)
  • hunk and pidge rescue shiro, repair his crashed ship with their beautiful genius brains, and head towards the Castle of Lions with swiped secret info + coordinates from The Garrison—- who, they find, knew exactly what happened to lance, pidge’s family, and why
  • the galra start dumping the captives for keeping on keith’s land, so that they can have them on hand for gladiatorial training, slavery, or other uses. keith is livid, but mostly because he has to deal with Change and People and Things Were Fine The Way They Were, Like, They Sucked, But He Wasn’t Dwelling On It Okay and Still, This Is Worse
  • once hunk, pidge, and shiro have teamed up with ALLURA (ARTHUR) and CORAN (MERLIN), hunk goes alone to retrieve the yellow lion, but ends up getting captured by the galra en route
  • this is how hunk and keith meet
  • hunk figures out what’s happening based on keith’s angry ranting, and when sendak promises keith that if he can find a way to use the blue paladin to lure out the rest of voltron, he can have his lonely little asteroid planet back
  • hunk uses this as an opportunity to go save lance!!!!! and good thing he does because keith needs him to help save the day on balmera thanks to his beautiful new She’s-Not-My-Girlfriend, SHAY.
  • keith doesn’t know what he’s going to do once they get there and meet this stupid, trouble-making blue paladin
  • defect against the galra? double-cross the paladins to get his home back?? was it even really a home to begin with??
  • he CERTAINLY doesn’t plan… to fall in Love…………………..

just,,, LISten ,,

  • keith: it’s no wonder u don’t have any friends? hunk: wow, only a True friend would be that Truly Honest?
  • (keith driving over a cliff) 🎶 I DON’T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT MY BAD REPUTATION 🎶
  • hunk: (looks between keith and lance in disbelief) he’s as nasty as you are?
  • lance: (singing) bird: (explodes)
  • when a galra in the bush grabs a paladin by the tush that’s bad that’s bad that’s really really bad
  • keith: what am i? pidge: uh… really tall?
  • keith getting shot in the butt and lance having to pull it out
  • is that a euphemism
  • i don’t know
  • mullets are like onions
  • hunk: blue flower red thorns blue flower red thorns blue flower red thorns THIS WOULD BE SO MUCH EASIER IF I WASN’T COLORBLIND
  • blue flower 😎 red thorns 😎 #investigate

and that’s just the first movie,,

Scenes I feel we are owed by SJM to repay all the pain she's caused

•Round two of Rowaelin thanking each other
•The wall x Feysand
•ACTUAL rowaelin wedding
•with subsequent wedding night
•adorable, fluffy, everyone-cries-even-Az Feysand wedding
•Aelin’s coronation
•ROWAN’s coronation
•Aedion taking the blood oath
•Lysandra getting her territory recognized by the rest of the nobles of Terrasen (or nah, screw them if they don’t, it’ll happen anyway)
•Rowan becoming a father
•therefore Aelin becoming a mother, obviously
•Asterin becoming a mother
•Manon finally saying “I love you” to someone, literally anyone she cares about would be fine
•Manon killing Grandma Bitch using only her nails, very slowly
•Lysandra finding the love that she wants/deserves
•Same with Aedion
•Fenrys getting to be free and careless with his brother
•Gavriel getting to connect with his son
•Elorcan. Just Elorcan.
•Dorian Havilliard and true Happiness
•Chaol walking again and being/doing his best again
•Nesryn smiling and laughing
•Evangeline being happy and carefree chasing fleetfoot around the castle grounds in Orynth
•Feyre being introduced to the whole night court as High Lady
•Mor telling her dick of a father off right before Cassian and Azriel slice him into little pieces
•Maeve burning from the inside out via Aelin
•Rowan finally finding true peace with Aelin for the first time since Lyria
•Elucien SOMETHING
•Nessian SOMETHING
•MORIEL SOMETHING (anything, though like geez, they need to stop having eye sex and get to the real deal)
•Azriel and Mor and Rhys and Feyre and Nesta and CASSIAN taking turns killing the King of Hybern (not Elain because Elain will just sit and watch)

•Rhysand getting to be just happy for once, not having to worry about anything than living in Velaris and loving Feyre and his inner circle and his people

•Feyre getting to paint whenever/whatever she wants

This kinda turned into HCs but oh well

Feel free to add any scenes you feel like we’re owed by the Queen, Sarah J Maas (I know I’m forgetting some)

anonymous asked:

thoughts on a special edition of Leopardstar?

yes please give it to me ok bc leopard is underrated and so many ppl are so quick to judge her

like we got a ambitious young cat who has been doted on by her clan and pretty much groomed for leadership, she defends her clan borders against thunderclan cats and holds a grudge because they (accidentally) killed her former apprentice in a border skirmish (a cat she was very close to and felt proud because he had just been made a warrior) 

she was right all along about graystripe’s loyalty lmao, she made sure riverclan got silverstream’s kits, she continued to push for sunningrocks and get more territory for her clan, she was the only leader in the darkest hour to even think of leaving the territories and sent scouts to ensure her clan would survive

like, YES she made a mistake with tigerstar. she believed she was doing what was right in a harsh winter to pair up with tigerstar vs have him attack her. do you guys remember the previous winter when riverclan starved?? they had to have thunderclan cats feed them in order to survive

YES it was wrong of her to allow blackfoot to kill stonefur, but what could she have done? the shadowclan cats were infested in her camp which was full of sick and elderly. had she said no to tigerstar he would have massacred riverclan and used them as an example of what happens to cats who defy him. leopardstar was just trying to do what was best and y’all gotta stop blaming her for a mistake she made

Just look how gorgeous and radiant our adorable couple are! I love how Cait’s right knee is bent so that her right thigh is up against hubby. I’m not saying where but Hubs has that heavenly pride and joy of a smile. (She’s mine!) That’s more than cozy, folks, that’s blatant intimacy and she’s staking her territorial right and claiming it for the world to see!! Sam and Cait - wishing you the very best life has to offer. After complying with the stressful fuckery narrative of TPTB to gain their merger I hope you two get a much well deserved bonus.Enjoy your love! It’s beautiful!

Mr. Cupcake and the Rat: A Note

@unpretty​ this is your fault 

Link to Part One of Mr. Cupcake and the Rat

Ren had settled into something akin to a comfortable routine, as much as anyone on the streets could possibly hope to. Every day brought new chaos. The bakery she had staked out as the center of her territory was on the rougher, poorer side of town, and she never knew when violence or cops would spill into her attempt at a peaceful existence.

She’d been heckled while digging through a trash can. When she hadn’t reacted, they’d thrown a bottle at her head. Her hat, an oversized beanie the same dark color as the dirty, matted hair it covered, had kept any glass from digging into her skull, but she had a hell of a headache and was dizzy. That was the sort of thing that made every day different from the next.

But there were some comforting constants.

She swung by the back alley by her bakery. She was quite late, and it was Sunday, so he would already be closed. But no one else came by, which meant… yes.

A little brown bag sitting on the step by the door into the bakery. She snatched it up quickly, stuffing part of it into her mouth so she could use all her limbs. Teeth clenched around the top of the bag, she clambered up onto the dumpster. In a practiced movement, she backed up to the corner, ran forward, and leapt. She caught the bottom rung of the fire escape on the next building, then hauled herself up. She climbed up another two stories on the fire escape, then, bag still dangling from her mouth, leapt onto the bakery roof. She landed on all fours, scrambled across the tile to the end of the house where the roof was at its highest. She slid off of it automatically, arms, then head, then chest and body, feet catching briefly around the edge as she swung herself down. The window was unlocked, because she never locked it. A metal ruler she left sticking out of the bottom made it easy to pry open, and then she slithered in.

The whole effort took less than thirty seconds.

She was getting very good at it.

The attic above the bakery was dark, but that didn’t bother her at all. She’d found a flashlight in an old box, and she had very good night vision. She clambered over bare plywood to her little corner, by the window, hidden behind a whole host of old, dusty boxes. There was a thick pile of blankets on it. She prodded at it a few times to figure out where all the rats were, moving some of them aside, before settling in.

She flicked the flashlight on and opened the bag. Inside was a saran wrapped sandwich, something wrapped in tin foil, two children’s juice boxes, and… ooooh, eclairs. She pulled it all out excitedly, using one of the boxes as a makeshift table. She started with the sandwich, unwrapping it and then carefully sticking the saran wrap around the existent ball of the stuff she was collecting. She didn’t know what for yet. Inside the foil were some sort of puffy baked things, folded and fluffy and filled with white poofyness that might have been cream cheese or something, and flecks of green. She poked at them. Lettuce? She didn’t know. It was too dark to be lettuce, she was pretty sure.

Curiously, she took a bite.

It tasted good, savory and creamy at the same time. She shrugged. It didn’t matter what was in it if it tasted good.

The juice boxes contained soy milk. One was chocolate. She drank that one first.

She fed the dozen or so rats in her blankets little pieces of bread and meat from the sandwich, which was full of some sort of chipped meat, and a vinegary sort of… cabbage maybe? Or a weird pale pickle. And cheese. And some kind of sauce. She didn’t rightly know, but it was good and the bread had a pretty, swirly design on it. The rats didn’t like the weird vinegar cabbage so she got to eat all of that herself. She really liked it. She wondered if she’d ever get to eat it again.

After she and the rats had devoured every last crumb, and the foil had been safely balled up around her Ball of Foil, which sat next to her Ball of Saran Wrap on her makeshift shelf, she flicked on her flashlight and grabbed the empty bag. It was a little greasy at the bottom from sitting for so long, but she could still use the sides. Eagerly, she went to tear it, then paused.

Something was… already written on the side?

She squinted at it, shaking the flashlight to get it to light up better.

“There is an Oktoberfest party today a few blocks away. Please watch out for drunks. Did you know otters have a special pouch where they keep their favorite rock?”

She tilted her head to the side, running a thin finger over the words, written in an unfamiliar scrawl.

Had Mr. Cupcake written this, then? He had never written her anything on a bag before. Except the first time, when he had written LUNCH in large letters.

A party… drunks. That explained the belligerence and the bottle.

She stared at the words for a while longer then flipped over onto her stomach, grabbing the sharpie she used to draw little pictures on the bags after she had eaten.

In careful letters underneath, she wrote, “One of them hit me.” She paused. “With a bottle.” That seemed like it might be an important clarification. Then, below that… “I did not know that. Did you know that rats laugh when they are happy?”

She stared at the words on the paper for a while. She doodled a little rat, laughing, the words HA HA HA over its head. She stared for a while longer. She had never written anyone a letter before. She was pretty sure this wasn’t how you did it. She wrestled with indecision for a while longer, before she tore the bag, carefully, so that the words didn’t rip. Then she taped it onto the slanted roof above her make-shift bed, with her other paper-bag doodles. This was paper bag lunch number fourteen.

She hoped tomorrow would be fifteen.

She hoped tomorrow would have more words on it, too.

She yawned, stomach gurgling and full, and curled up, pulling one of the many blankets over her head. The rats settled in around her, and she drifted into sleep, very full and very warm.

Double Agent Vader Fic: Shape-Changer

*casually drops in after a week’s absence with surprise fic*

So I didn’t think I would ever write the beginning of Vader’s double agent career, but marajadesbutt sent me an ask about what Anakin’s initial motivation for turning double agent was, and to my surprise, fic happened.

I pondered a lot of different ways all of this could have started, but ultimately, Anakin rebuilds himself in the image of the survival narratives of Tatooine slavery. So it seemed fitting that everything should begin with a story.

(Also ftr I’m going with the idea that Palpatine actually drained Padmé’s life force to keep Anakin alive, since imo that makes the most sense of how Palpatine knows that she’s dead at all.)

His Master liked to say that Vader was born in fire on Mustafar. But Ekkreth was born in the desert.

*

Shape-Changer

Tatooine hadn’t changed.

The suns still blazed, and the heat still beat down, and the sand still got everywhere. That last, especially, was true. Vader could feel it grinding against his metal bones.

He didn’t feel the heat anymore, not within this climate controlled life support suit. And he didn’t feel the burning of the suns, either, or need to shield his eyes against the light or his skin against the biting wind. But he still felt the sand. That would never change.

He almost welcomed it.

Keep reading

Next up is Muffet!


Opening Battle Quote

* You’re stuck in a strong purple web and surrounded by spiders– 
You can’t move!

Personality

Blunt. Distant. Apathetic.

All the traits of a proper spider.

She only shows emotion once spiders are involved–or whether someone who has been officially integrated into her family is mentioned.

Role in Monofell

Her one purpose in life is to protect her family from harm–and to stop anyone that dares invade on her territory to do so.

Notable Differences

  • She does not have a Spider Bakery (she’s more interested in floristry).

  • Her pet is constantly having to be held to keep it calm–the poor muffin suffers from separation anxiety and needs Muffet’s constant attention to feel safe.

  • She holds an intense hatred for frog-related monsters.
Cupcake Distractions

@supremeuppityone: more Gorgons, please!

This follows Pocket Full of Stones.



Klaus’ kitchen had become her territory.

It wasn’t like he actually used it. Cooking and baking weren’t particularly high priority activities for the family, and other than the occasional Elijah ordained dinner that turned into mayhem, the kitchen went unused. It suited her perfectly.

It was a crime, to waste such a gorgeous space.

Particularly on those nights she stayed over, and some minion or other interrupted them with some crisis management. Caroline rarely managed to sleep once he’d left to remove heads, and instead made her way downstairs to bake. Thankfully, Kol could be taught, so the time she’d woken to find only crumbs remaining of the cupcakes she’d left out to cool hadn’t been repeated.

But tonight, even baking didn’t really cure her boredom. Klaus had his collection of siblings had been gone for just over two weeks, and she was a little perturbed at how much she missed him. She hadn’t planned to crash at his mansion while he was gone, but a pipe had burst in the apartment above hers. Between the minor flooding and construction work, she’d been annoyed and restless. But it had been the unexpected invasion of ants that had her packing a bag and making herself comfortable in his room.

The series of text messages and complaints she’d sent Klaus had led to a truly spectacular round of phone sex. Caroline could deal with any number of creepy crawly bugs, but ants were where she drew the line. Klaus had been quite willing to assist in taking her mind off of the horror of finding them floating in the river in her bathroom.

Now it was Sunday night, she had three dozen cupcakes cooling on the kitchen island, and she was bored out of her mind. Reaching for the wine bottle she’d opened, she topped of her glass with a sigh. It wasn’t even the lack of sex that was bothering her, though that one bout of phone sex had been fun, but she found herself actually missing Klaus. Usually he’d stroll into her domain once she’d gotten the first batch of cupcakes into the oven and they’d spend the next hour companionably chatting while she flipped through cookbooks and he sketched.

Keep reading

Imagine Being Cas’ Girlfriend When the Waitress Flirts With Him

(x)

*based off of the new promo for tomorrow’s episode*

You were sitting there practically seething with anger in your seat next to Cas, your glare aimed at the waitress who was currently staring at your Angel like he was her next meal. You scoffed inwardly. You knew he was yours, but it still drove you insane when anyone flirted with him.

“And what about you..handsome?” the waitress asked, a smile on her face.

Oh, hell no. That’s it.

“My boyfriend here will have the Sunrise Special,” you interrupted, a fake polite smile on your face as you stared her down, marking your territory effectively.

The waitress’ face fell and Cas looked at you with a confused expression on his face.

“He’s your boyfriend?” she asked, her brows raised in surprise. “You? Seriously?”

You scoffed out a laugh, turning to Cas and grabbing his face to pull him in for a deep, possessive kiss. He was caught off guard at first but quickly fell into it, his hand resting on your neck as he returned the kiss. 

You pulled away after a moment, smiling at him before turning to the waitress, doing a victory dance in your head at the stunned look on her face.

“Any more questions?” you challenged.

Her mouth opened and closed, looking for something to say, but quickly retreated and walked away. 

“What just happened?” Dean asked.

“Just making sure she knows he’s mine, that’s all,” you shrugged, sitting back in your seat.

Cas placed a warm hand on your thigh, a gleam in his eyes as he looked at you. “Only yours.”

Keep reading

Essays in Existentialism: Hickeys

Lexa marking Clarke’s neck like she might mark her territory.

The day was quiet, the night was silent. Not even the cicadas hummed tonight, not even the revelry of returning groups could be heard in the deadly muteness that existed in the world.

Keep reading

also can we talk about jealous chloe some more

i mean, literally, if you are female and you are anywhere around lucifer, she will find you, she will write down your address, she will come upstairs like a ninja, and she will eat you in your sleep

she is INCREDIBLY territorial over her man and always knows what he is doing and who he is with and runs upstairs expecting to find him having an orgy with the college freshmen and he’s instead just been sitting there talking to them about how much he loves her and they think she’s really pretty and chloe is confused but flattered

but everyone knows chloe decker queen of hell is my thing and i love it when you get these little glimpses of what he brings out in her and her desires and her connection to him and it’s just delicious ok

They [the writers] have referenced Felicity’s mask aversion 3 times now, twice this season alone. There is something afoot there. I think she’s wearing a mask now, metaphorically.
— 

@quant-um-fizzx | Vigilante Spec/Meta

Maybe these “mask” references are foreshadowing Felicity going undercover very soon. Producers promised they were to positioning Felicity to do something in the second half of the year that is really key to the story and new territory for her…We’ll see…

Yeah, we’ve got a really great storyline planned out for Felicity this year. The way it breaks down is in the first five episodes, we face head-on the decision that Felicity made in episode 422, which led to the destruction of Havenrock by one of Damien Darhk’s nuclear missiles. I think there were a lot of questions from fans of, like, are we going to ignore that development? The answer is we are most definitely not ignoring it. Off of that storyline, we’re positioning her to do something in the second half of the year that is really, really key, and isn’t about her relationship with Oliver — it isn’t about even necessarily her father or her mother. It’s really new territory for her, and we’ve very excited about it. I don’t want to spoil so much, especially since it happens deeper into the season, but some big things are going to happen with Felicity.
Love is a quiet voice

Chapter 3

Just for a moment I expect Scully to argue with me, to tell me to get the hell out of her apartment; to stop being such a presumptuous fuck and there’s actually a part of me that hopes she does. Because it will at least give me some kind of evidence that she hasn’t given up completely; that her spirit is still in there somewhere fighting to get out; even though it will speak to emotion, raw emotion that she keeps so tightly drawn inside her; because after all, emotion equals weakness; or at least in her book it does.

And briefly, her eyes flash across at me and she shifts slightly, as though she is about to take a step forwards, to take control and regain her territory, igniting a fire that for a mere moment in time returns her to me; the woman who fights, not the watered down version who seems to be dying even more from the apathy than the actual tumour living inside her. Because she’s fine isn’t she? Always fine. Because fine is good and fine is safe even though fine is a million miles away from what she actually is. But then she just stops. Literally just stops and that brief moment of animation is gone, replaced with a tired resignation that makes my stomach clench involuntarily as I realise once again as I have realised on innumerable occasions that she is dying; that she is withdrawing from me in degrees but this time I also gain a tiny measure of clarity – that by denying me access she is protecting me as much as she is protecting herself, because maybe, just maybe, losing her will hurt me less if she can just make me hate her a little before she leaves.

“Scully…”

But she holds up a hand before passing it briefly over her eyes. Oh Christ, the headache. The fucking headache. The reason I brought her home in the first place and which, in my self-absorption I’d actually forgotten about. And right then I feel like the biggest shit in the universe because I’m playing mind games with her when she is in pain; instead of trying to alleviate it, to help her, to offer comfort, I am mentally dissecting her internal rationale.

It’s a fine moment for me and one to add to all the other fine moments I’ve amassed over the years.

She is swaying ever so slightly on her feet, almost imperceptible but now I’ve actually taken the time to open my eyes and truly notice, it’s obvious that, while not dizzy exactly, she is clearly feeling a little unsteady; a combination probably of the pain, the exhaustion and most likely the medication taken on top of a lack of real food. She has dropped probably around fifteen pounds in weight during the recent punishing bout of chemo and radiotherapy and with no one around to encourage her to eat; to find something she actually wants to eat, I’m guessing that she probably doesn’t eat. It’s not something I’d really considered before. And as always I just don’t know what to do; getting her here was the easy part but I find myself paralysed in front of her, waiting for a verbal cue from her that I know isn’t going to materialise while at the same time wanting so badly to offer her something, anything, that my hands are literally clenched in to fists at my side.

I am painfully aware that I don’t know how to help her; that I am so emotionally stunted that because I can’t break this down in to digestible chunks of cause and effect, can’t categorise her in to neatly transcribed behavioural profile, can’t rationalise what is happening to her, that in fact, I am failing her on every level imaginable because even if she won’t let me in I should at least be able to vocalise something to offer her a tiny shred of comfort.

Maybe she sees me struggling, I don’t know. But she drops her eyes down to the floor, avoiding me again, embarrassed almost.

“I need to lie down Mulder. Stay or go. Whatever.”

And that’s when I hear it. The slight inflection in her voice that tells me she wants me to stay. That even if she can’t bring herself to admit it, the subconscious desire not to be alone outweighs the conscious one to keep hiding. She has given me a choice when of course there is no choice to make.

XXXX

I am smart enough- just- to give her the space I know she needs, that she is drained both emotionally and physically and as she retreats to the bedroom I know that putting that physical barrier between us is actually the right thing to do for both of us at the moment. She knows I’m here and I know she knows I’m here and for the moment that’s enough to offer us both a measure of comfort; so after wandering in to the kitchen to make myself a coffee, using the strong Columbian blend she keeps in just for me, I return to the living room and just sit, warming my hands around the mug as I sip the burning liquid.

I don’t switch the TV on; in fact I don’t really do anything because Scully’s apartment has always had an effect on me that I’ve never really been able to fathom despite the amount of times I’ve been here. It calms my mind, allows me to just empty myself of the myriad of thoughts that usually jostle for position inside my brain, a brain that hardly ever switches off. But when I’m here, surrounded by the essence that is my partner, I always find myself quieting. Maybe it’s the decor I don’t know; and while I’m not exactly blessed with creativity when it comes to interior furnishings even I can recognise the care, love and meaning that Scully has poured in to every room of this place. From the personal and sometimes quirky nick-nacks that grace every surface of the honeyed antique wood furniture to the many different lamps that mean the lighting can be adjusted to perfectly mirror the mood of the moment. Even now, even as sick as she is, her home is spotless, tidy and ordered which now I think of it, describes Scully herself pretty well. My apartment on the other hand is a cluttered mess most of the time; a haphazard collection of thrown-together possessions that don’t really mean anything much to me. I’m not one for material comforts and my living space is barely even functional and certainly I could never classify it as a home. I use Scully for that. She has become my home; my safe place, a place that can always be relied upon to offer a sense of peace in my often chaotic life. She is the blanket I wrap around myself against the bitter chill of life, my centre, my touchstone who grounds me when no one else can and I know that had she not walked in to my life, I would have pressed the self-destruct button long ago. Hell, even since I met her my finger has hovered dangerously close to it on occasion, but she has always been there to pull me back from the brink. And even though I try not to, I can’t help but wonder who will care enough to pull me back when she’s gone.

It’s a sobering thought and I push it right out of my mind because thinking about the potentials doesn’t ever change the inevitable and I need to stop thinking about the ‘what ifs’ all the time.

Half an hour has passed since Scully removed herself to the bedroom and I decide that maybe now would be an appropriate time to check on her, that enough breathing space has been afforded that she probably won’t throw something at me and tell me to get the hell out.

My fears though are groundless because in actuality, the first thing I see when I softly crack the door open and peer round the jamb is my partner, facing away from me, curled up atop the bed, just about as small as she can get in a horribly tense foetal position, one hand pressed to her forehead, the other clutching the edge of the pillowcase. I know without looking that her knuckles are white and I know without seeing her face that she is crying. The sight of her quite literally freezes me to the spot because I had honestly expected her to be sleeping, not trembling like this in the midst of pain and fear and I don’t know what to do. I just don’t know what to fucking do to make this better for her. My every instinct says to go to her, but I hold back for just a heartbeat because she is clearly in a world of hurt and I’m terrified that my presence might make it worse. And then I hear it, the word so muffled, so broken that it is almost inaudible; but this is Scully and I think I could hear her whispering my name in a room full of people all talking at once; in fact I know I could.

“Mulder”

And I am across the room in an instant, falling to my knees on the hardwood floor so that I am almost on a level with her position on top of the bed, no longer second guessing myself as I let my instinct take over, covering the hand that is clutching at the pillowcase with mine and feeling as she transfers the pressure of her fingers from the cotton covering to my own skin. The other hand I gently cup around her jaw, carefully caressing the side of her face with my thumb, ever conscious of not hurting her more than she is hurting.

“I’m here.” I whisper, wiping some of the wetness away with my thumb, smoothing the damp hair away from where it has fallen on to her face. Her eyes are bloodshot, her pupils huge and her chest is rising and falling far too rapidly as the pain renders her incapable of drawing adequate breath. She is certainly panicking at this point and while I’m in no way a medical professional, I know all about the crippling effects of hyperventilation. Enough nights where I have literally bolted upright feeling the vice across my chest, delivered by whatever nightmare chose to pay me a nocturnal visit, squeezing the breath from me, have taught me well. But in all the years I have known her, never have I seen her like this. Her eyes have locked with mine, frightened and intense, their delicate colour now darkened almost to navy. Those beautiful eyes that I have lost myself in more times that I can even count.

“It….hurts”

“I know. I know it hurts but first you have to get your breathing under control okay?”

And I have no clue as to whether I’m doing the right thing or not, but I perch on the bed anyway, still maintaining as much contact with her as I can, manipulating her until she is half on my lap, her upper body pressed close to my chest, head tucked beneath my chin as I stroke her hair in a rhythmic motion that I hope will calm her, speaking soft words of reassurance, words that just somehow happen; words from my heart I guess.

“All the times you have felt anxious, all the times you have felt overwhelmed, all the times you have felt this level of pain; remember Scully that you were strong, that you made it through…”

I am rewarded as she relaxes slightly, just the merest softening of her body against mine.

“That no matter what life has thrown at you, will throw at you or how difficult things might get, that you can survive for that one moment, nothing more and nothing less…just breathe with me Scully and trust that you can survive this.”

My words have taken a sort of lilting cadence, whispered softly, so softly, reminding me of the night I held her as she almost disintegrated in my arms when Penny Northern died. It seems like a lifetime ago, but now, as then, my words have the desired effect and I blink back the tears as she finally takes a deep shuddering breath, pressing herself deeper in to me as I tighten my arms around her. She won’t look at me. I don’t expect her to and I think on some level, I feel her hesitant entreaty before I hear it.

“Please stay with me.”

Continued chapter 4