This Is Literally My Favourite Line In The Fight The Future Script, Nothing Can Truly Top This

putting the ✨BI✨ in FBI since 1993 👽

Hello 👋, I hope you're doing well..

My name is Mahmoud, and I'm a 17-year-old from Gaza. The ongoing war has devastated my city, destroyed my school, and made daily life incredibly challenging.

Despite these hardships, I'm determined to continue my education and build a better future. I've been given a chance to study abroad, but I need help to cover the costs of leaving Gaza, as well as living expenses and other essentials abroad once the crossing opens.. 🙏

If you can, please consider donating or sharing, your kindness can truly make a difference, and thanks for your time. ❤🍉

https://gofund.me/bd3ccf0b 🔗

I have no way of donating right now but if anyone can contribute please do and spread the word, i’m going to use my usual tags and hope this finds people

posting this on my blog to add the link to prints (with the permission of @child-of-delirium who commissioned this piece)

you guys ever think about gillian anderson

Scully feels awful. She knows she looks it too, dark shadows under her eyes, all but skin and bone propped up in her hospital bed beside a laptop. Scully had sent her mother home, there was no need for her to be there when she had other things to do, she had to go to church. Scully knew this wasn’t the end for her. Not yet. She had another month at least. She was counting the. She wasn’t sure when she gone from fighting it, to dreading it, to reaching for it. Reaching for that handsome angle of death who would take her somewhere sweeter.

It was selfish, but she was tired.

Mulder had left the room to grab a coffee and Scully seized the opportunity. She knew better than to do it in bed, so she pushed herself up and leaned against the wall for support as she looked through drawer of the bedside table. Her brittle nails skimmed the paper, then her finger tips found purchase against the pack and she pulled it out. The cool press of the lighter against the dry skin of her palm was a comforting weight.

Scully drew a cigarette out of the box and took it between her lips. Her thumb struck the lighter and she held the flame to the end, almost exhaling in relief when it caught. There’d be time for that after, first she wanted to take a long drag. The nicotine flooded her system and for a moment made her feel a little more alive.

She was so engrossed in the feeling that she didn’t hear the snick of the latch moving from its spot and allowing the door to open. “Would you cut that out?” Asked an annoyed, neigh, enraged voice. Mulder stood in the door way, cheap styrofoam coffee cup in his hand. “You’re a doctor, don’t you know what that stuff does to you?”

Scully rolled her eyes and turned her head, exhaling the smoke away from Mulder. She didn’t tell him that it didn’t matter. He was so sure that he was so close to finding someone, to meeting the right person with the right tech or magic or whatever. She couldn’t burst his bubble, she could let him have his hope at least, even if she had abandoned hers.

Mulder placed the coffee cup down and crossed the room to pluck the cigarette from between her lips, tossing it on the ground and grinding it under his heel until he was sure it was out. While he cleaned up the debris, Scully lit another.

He gave her an incredulous look as she savored the taste of stress relief and college parties and rebellion on her tongue. “This,” she tapped the cig, “isn’t what put me in here, Mulder.”

white people go like “is anyone going to redesign this nonhuman evil character as a poc?” and not wait for an answer

Frohike>>>

The Lone Gunmen + Mulder & Frohike lifelong friendship...

I love you crab rangoon

I love you samosas. I love you empanadas. I love you pasties. I love you dumplings. I love you pirozhkis. I love you savory food in a convenient little carb purse.

what if i was a loner ridiculed by my peers for investigating the paranormal who had come to expect emotional neglect from the people closest to me and you were a scientist assigned to debunk my work and i was prepared to hate you on sight but you believed in me like no one had ever done before and you challenged my theories and laughed at my stupid jokes and i helped you come out of your shell and embrace the fact that you were deep down just as much of a weirdo as me and you didn't need anyone's approval for what you were doing with your life except for your own and when you put yourself on the line for me over and over and underwent a series of personal tragedies because of it i stopped sleeping because i blamed myself but you told me that your whole life didn't revolve around me and you made the choices you did because you wanted to not because i made you, helping absolve me of my lifelong guilt and unconscious god complex and making me realize that the friendships and bonds we form with other people are just as much of a revelation as the unexplained mysteries of the universe. and we were both fbi agents