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So much of the living, love, is the being unknown.

@asimplearchivist / asimplearchivist.tumblr.com

[asimplearchivist] is typing...or trying to, anyway.
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𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄:

𝓦𝓮𝓵𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓵𝓸𝓰!
𝓑𝓮𝓵𝓸𝔀 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓾𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓬𝓪𝓷 𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓭 𝓶𝔂 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓳𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓾𝓹𝓭𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝓼𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓭𝓾𝓵𝓮, 𝓪𝓼 𝔀𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝓪𝓼 𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓴𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓶𝔂 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽, 𝓶𝔂 𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓫𝓵𝓸𝓰, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓶𝔂 𝓯𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓸𝓶/𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓭𝓲𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂.
𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓭𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓹𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓫𝔂, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓘 𝓱𝓸𝓹𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓮𝓷𝓳𝓸𝔂 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝔂! :)

—𝖋𝖎𝖘𝖆𝖗𝖆

Anonymous asked:

Do you think people who are virgin should write smut? I feel like most of them don’t even know what they’re writing and just write what they think sex is

the implication this ask suggests that people who write about murders, cannibalism, politics, magic, royalty au, sci-fi, wars, supernatural, time travel, medieval era, werewolves, vampires, mermaids or goblins must be murderers, cannibals, presidents, wizards, royalties, astronauts, ghost hunters, soldiers, time travelers, knights, werewolves, vampires, mermaids or goblins in real life is so funny to me

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People underestimate how much it fucks you up to be subtly excluded as a kid. I would try to talk to my classmates and be met with disinterest or annoyance. The one friend I had, who I clung to and nodded along to his every word, had other friends he liked just as much or more. And his other friends didn’t care for me at all.

I look back at pictures from the time and see how separated I was from them. I remember knowing I was different. I remember posing questions about the world to the girls playing next to me and realizing that they had never asked the same ones to themselves. That the ways we thought couldn’t be more different.

I kept myself amused with my own fanatical stories and musings in my head. I would wander the playground on a circular path, imagining a friend and being sorely disappointed when it didn’t feel as real as I’d hoped.

There was a bubble separating me from everyone else, thin, and nearly invisible, but with a pearly sheen you could catch under the right conditions. I knew it was there, they knew it was there, and it changed me

I know this is going to make me sound pretensions but I have to get it off my chest. I feel an unimaginable rage when someone posts a photo and is like "this picture looks like a renaissance painting lol" when the photo clearly has the lighting, colors and composition of a baroque or romantic painting. There are differences in these styles and those differences are important and labeling every "classical" looking painting as renaissance is annoying and upsetting to me. And anytime I come across one of those posts I have to put down my phone and go take a walk because they make me so mad

In case you're curious here's what I mean.

Renaissance(distinct lines, stability and the individual man):

Baroque (bold, chaotic, dramatic):

Romantic(romanticize the simple hard working life):

Do you see the difference?

this post has re-wired my brain in the best way

people who don't experience hyperfixation don't know what it feels like to hyperfixate so much on something that it becomes not only your subject of obsession but also your source of happiness and literally the main reason why you still keep going; literal source of strength and life.

shoutout to my favorite fictional characters, favorite people, favorite ships, favorite movies, favorite tv shows, fanfics and archive of our own

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