hi pals
lol hey remember when I left years ago because I thought tumblr sucked? now I’m back because twitter sucks. not here though! I’m over at @mdwstduch. needed a fresh start etc etc anyway I’m still writing and yelling about characters so come stop by and say hey if you want.
much love kids <3
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hi pals
lol hey remember when I left years ago because I thought tumblr sucked? now I’m back because twitter sucks. not here though! I’m over at @mdwstduch. needed a fresh start etc etc anyway I’m still writing and yelling about characters so come stop by and say hey if you want.
much love kids <3
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hi friends!!! looks like my tumblr got got and was posting some spam. thanks to everyone who reached out to me about it <3 reminder that I’m not super active on here anymore but I do still write and chat over on my twitter!
sorry for all the trouble! I’ll probably find my way back to tumblr some day and def don’t want a bot bother everybody regardless, so thanks again for letting me know! have a good one kids
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More Dimitri! :D
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the concept of how sir arthur conan doyle was as a person always sends me into fits. imagine making the most famous literary character of all time but you hate the character so much you try to kill him off. but everyone is so horny for this asshole detective they make you bring him back. even your own mother gets mad when he’s dead because she likes him. raising your prices to ridiculous rates to avoid writing holmes stories backfired and now you’re rich. it’s absolutely a pain because it’s keeping you from your true passion which is spiritualism despite how one of your good friends harry houdini keeps telling you it’s bullshit. you consider your best novels to be historical ones but they’re well over shadowed by the nemesis of your own creation sherlock fucking holmes. some fake photographs from some kids convinced you faeries were real and you wrote a whole book about it. you started writing stories in medical school. and yes, also you are a doctor. after you’re dead, they erect a statue of sherlock holmes across the street from your birthplace, causing you to probably roll over one hundred eighty degrees in your grave and scream into your casket pillow.
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Reunited
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we owe no one shame. / we owe no one smallness.
Raquel Salas Rivera, from “the independence (of puerto rico),” published in Poem-a-Day (via lifeinpoetry)
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[八] blood witch 🩸
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J O U R N E Y ▪ 134/?
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choose your fighter…
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I simply want and what dear god
is on the other side of want? I want that too.
My want is so wide I cannot cross it.
— Michael Lee, from “Row,” The Only Worlds We Know
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laundry pool
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widojest i found in my drafts from last week
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bf: says anything good about literally anything other than me even an inanimate object
Me: go marry it then
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