@hawkeyefrommash / hawkeyefrommash.tumblr.com
hi! i didn't write fic for a long time so i stopped linking my accounts and i always forget to post about it, so i'm gonna make this and pin it so people can find my writing if they're interested :)
You can find my AO3 here.
I have a lot of fics for things I don't write for anymore, but below are fandoms I plan to write more for:
Professionalism sucks I wanna put "😭😭" in my emails.
can't believe I'm expected to work even though I don't feel like it and would rather not
mutuals we’re not pretentious we’re just always right. not our fault
i hear a good lyric and start mentally holding up blorbos like im in the home depot paint aisle comparing swatches
jesus christ. fine. ill say it. im sleepy. im sleepy, okay? do you know what being sleepy does to a person? to their spirit? i should be pitied.
some of you need to romanticise the fucking paragraph break
this animal
I keep seeing people talking about this so I wanted to find out
Reblog for bigger sample size
from now on your tumblr nickname is whatever you get from this sexual identity generator ☆
No offense these are the funniest fucking tags
I think he understands more than we'd like him to.
Cocaine was a stimulant used by a priestly caste of the middle period United States called businessmen in order to commune with The Market. [1]
Ferengi Wikipedia
[ID: poem by rainer maria rilke titled '[Again and again, even though we know love's landscape]'. poem reads:
"Again and again, even though we know love’s landscape and the little churchyard with its lamenting names and the terrible reticent gorge in which the others end: again and again the two of us walk out together under the ancient trees, lay ourselves down again and again among the flowers, and look up into the sky."
/end ID]
Fringe The Same Old Story | 1.02
The entire history of human desire takes about seventy minutes to tell.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤUnfortunately, we don’t have that kind of time.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ Forget the dragon, leave the gun on the table, this has nothing to do with happiness.
Richard Siken, ‘Litany In Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out’
