It’s Not Always Necessary To Be Strong, But To Feel Strong.

Fall in love with someone who feels like the warmth of the sun on a cold January morning, but soothes your heart like the cool waters of the sea on the hottest day of June.

Nikita Gill (via meanwhilepoetry)

OTP Prompt 99

Person A: Are you.. blushing?

Person B: What, no.

Person A: Did I get the ever-stoic, hardcore, total badass Person B to blush?

Person B: No… It’s… It’s the cold.

Person A: Huh. It’s the cold. And not that I told you “your face is freaking adorable and I bet the rest of you is too?”

Person B: *blushing harder* *voice cracks* N-no.

I get fucked up just 'cause I'm scared love's just another drug I have grown a victim to

When crows remember people who wronged them and hold grudges, it’s ‘intelligent’ and ‘really cool’ but when I do it I’m ‘petty’ and ‘need to move on’.

Sirius Black (via incorrectmarauderquotes)

Walburga: You imbecile, go to your room now!

Sirius: Keep yelling at me like that and I'll make sure our family line ends with me.

Walburga: Was that a threat?

Sirius *fully knowing its already going to end with his brother and his own gay ass*: Girl, did it sound like a compliment???

"But undocumented immigrants are breaking the law."

I don't care. Not even a little.

Trump broke the law. His insurrectionists broke the law. And when they did, you insisted that breaking the law is patriotic and that our freedom fighters were all law breakers.

By the standards that you actively uphold, undocumented immigrants are patriots. So I will treat them like patriots.

Stranger Things? Dramatic? Nooo.

This isn’t lust. Lust wants, does the obvious… Love is greedier. Love wants round-the-clock care; protection; rings, vows, joint accounts; scented candles on birthdays; life insurance. Babies. Love’s a dictator.

David Mitchell, The Bone Clocks (via the-book-diaries)

There were days when she was very happy without knowing why. She was happy to be alive and breathing, when her whole being seemed to be one with the sunlight, the color, the odors, the luxuriant warmth of some perfect Southern day. She liked then to wander alone into strange and unfamiliar places. She discovered many a sunny, sleepy corner, fashioned to dream in. And she found it good to dream and to be alone and unmolested.There were days when she was unhappy, she did not know why—when it did not seem worth while to be glad or sorry, to be alive or dead; when life appeared to her like a grotesque pandemonium and humanity like worms struggling blindly toward inevitable annihilation

Kate Chopin, The Awakening (via the-book-diaries)