"Your body isn’t you, your soul is you and they can never cut into your soul."
- Red Band Society (via aperfectfeint)
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-mystarsandmyocean: "You named her Felicity. Happiness."

storiesbyladychi:

"I did," the woman says, taking a long draw on a cigarette. "I was reading a novel at the time. It seemed…. hopeful. Of course, then we noticed she was…. different, you know? Smart. Like her father. And then he ran out. Wasn’t much hope after that." 

Oliver nods. “She’s… something, though.”

"You think so? She babbles." 

"I like it." 

Felicity’s mother raises an eyebrow. “You like it?” 

"I do." 

"Well, now." She puts out her cigarette. "There’s something.”

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the x-files + 1x03 - ‘conduit’

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Mulder: I love you.
Scully: Oh, brother.

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hetasdfjkl:

My words of wisdom if you ever have OTP feels

hetasdfjkl:

My words of wisdom if you ever have OTP feels

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fvckthisreality:

Do not, I mean it, Do not imagine your OTP in the kitchen cooking breakfast together, one standing at the stove as the other is hugging them from behind, resting their heads on the back of their neck and stealing sleepy kisses. I promise this will cause fluffy-cuteness overload and it’s not good for your health.

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fakinq-glory:

today was my last day in my creative writing class and my teacher gave everybody a piece of paper to write down a contract and to put it in our wallets. she said she did the same thing when she was younger and every now and then she’d brush by it and remember that she wanted to write. everybody took time to write out what they wanted and I just sat at the back of the class, sitting on the windowsill and I knew there was only one thing to write but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. at the end of the class after everybody left, I went to thank her for the year, and she told me that people should be reading my words for a long time, but they won’t be able to do that if I’m not around to write them. I showed her the blank piece of paper, and she said it was okay not to write anything, and then I wrote this. I learned the power of words in that class, I learned it was okay to vomit up half a dozen notebooks stained with blood and exploded pens because it means you have something to say.

fakinq-glory:

today was my last day in my creative writing class and my teacher gave everybody a piece of paper to write down a contract and to put it in our wallets. she said she did the same thing when she was younger and every now and then she’d brush by it and remember that she wanted to write. everybody took time to write out what they wanted and I just sat at the back of the class, sitting on the windowsill and I knew there was only one thing to write but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. at the end of the class after everybody left, I went to thank her for the year, and she told me that people should be reading my words for a long time, but they won’t be able to do that if I’m not around to write them. I showed her the blank piece of paper, and she said it was okay not to write anything, and then I wrote this. I learned the power of words in that class, I learned it was okay to vomit up half a dozen notebooks stained with blood and exploded pens because it means you have something to say.

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I know who she is, and if she’s going through her worst right now, I want to go through it with her. She makes me happier than anything I’ve ever known, and if I can have a part in making her happy again that’s all I want to do. That’s all I want to do for the rest of my life.

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"It would be too easy to say that I feel invisible. Instead, I feel painfully visible, and entirely ignored."
- David Levithan (via tired-and-uninspireddddd)
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