jackie / 25 / infj / /

boston. queer. dogs rule. aspiring writer, dreamer and (mostly) friendly. i am a lover of books, tea, comics and film; a museum enthusiast, and proud feminist. i bathe in the tears of mra's to keep my youth.

I don’t believe
in soulmates
or fate
or destiny
but I believe
in you and me
and that we’ll
always
find our way back
to each other.

— Daily Poem #7 by Nick A West (via nickawest)

tags:   #poetry   #otp

sadurday:

i love it

tags:   #I LOVE   #ladies

mimswriter:

Kurt Vonnegut: 16 Rules For Writing Fiction

1. Use the time of a total stranger in such a way that he or she will not feel the time was wasted.

2. Give the reader at least one character he or she can root for.

3. Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water.

4. Every sentence must do one of two things — reveal character or advance the action.

5. Start as close to the end as possible.

6. Be a sadist. No matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them — in order that the reader may see what they are made of.

7. Write to please just one person. If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia.

8. Give your readers as much information as possible as soon as possible. To heck with suspense. Readers should have such complete understanding of what is going on, where and why, that they could finish the story themselves, should cockroaches eat the last few pages.

9. Find a subject you care aboutand which you in your heart feel others should care about.

10. Do not ramble.

11. Keep it simple. Simplicity of language is not only reputable, but perhaps even sacred.

12. Have guts to cut. Your rule might be this: If a sentence, no matter how excellent, does not illuminate your subject in some new and useful way, scratch it out.

13. Sound like yourself. The writing style which is most natural for you is bound to echo the speech you heard when a child.

14. Say what you mean. You should avoid Picasso-style or jazz-style writing, if you have something worth saying and wish to be understood.

15. Pity the readers. Our stylistic options as writers are neither numerous nor glamorous, since our readers are bound to be such imperfect artists.

16. You choose. The most meaningful aspect of our styles, which is what we choose to write about, is utterly unlimited.

oyrfyn:

'If you love love somebody, anybody, there will always be someone else..'

tags:   #music   #karen o

maximecp:

Can’t sleep, I’m wasted, wasted
Can’t stand still, I’m shaking over you

tags:   #music   #karen o

unnaturallypainfulmsr:

Where I Belong

Standing in the doorway of Scully’s bedroom, he gazed at the site before him. She was the picture of beauty, her face aglow in the warmth of new motherhood. Never before had he believed she could be more amazing, but as he beheld Scully holding her son, he found himself completely taken all over again. 

“How’s everybody doin’?”

She lifted her eyes and smiled. He knew there would never be a more perfect day. 

“We’re doing just fine,” she said rising to meet him.

Smiling with his entire face, he moved the swaddling aside and looked at the baby boy for the first time. He was the picture of perfection with his mother’s brilliant eyes - a wonder of the universe Mulder would never be able to explain. There were answers he would never find to questions he had asked thousands of times – he would never question was the miracle Scully placed in his arms.

“What are you going to call him?” 
“William. After your father.”

His heart stopped for a moment as he breathed in Scully’s words. 
William. 
His father’s name. 
His name.

So much had happened since he had come back. He had been lost, trying to find his place in the world that continued to revolve without him. He struggled with Scully’s pregnancy - with her new partner. There was an uncertainty he had never faced before; for the first time in eight years, he questioned his place in Scully’s life. 

With one phrase, uncertainty disappeared and he knew exactly where he belonged.

Forever could pass them by, ebbing and flowing with all its mundanity - but they would live a lifetime in that moment. William. Their miracle. Their immortality and the very embodiment of the only truth that mattered - the truth no government could touch, no conspiracy could hide.

He loved her. 

Looking into her eyes he smiled from deep inside his heart. For every dark corner he had ever shown a light into, searching for ever-elusive proof, he found the answer he sought most of all in the eyes of the beautiful red-head standing before him. Scully was the only truth he would ever need.

duncepageant:

hold my hand, hold it tight whether the weather is cold tonight. I promise it will be alright

gnarly:

that one person everyone loves and you’re just like

w

h

y

tags:   #u G H   #sAME

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