s/o to whatever Reductress writer is apparently coming for me specifically.
styofa doing anything
we're not kids anymore.

ellievsbear

if i look back, i am lost
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
taylor price
macklin celebrini has autism

Kiana Khansmith
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
DEAR READER
d e v o n
occasionally subtle
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đŞź
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Sade Olutola
Cosmic Funnies
cherry valley forever

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@daytimelullaby
s/o to whatever Reductress writer is apparently coming for me specifically.

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ËËË âĄ ËËË
fanfiction is so awesome. some of the most brilliant writers youve ever met are writing the most crazy porn youve ever seen. does that not move you
Belladonna of Sadness (1973) Dir. Eiichi Yamamoto

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OH MY GOD I NEEDED THIS
For the chronically anxious and/or otherwise mentally ill:
This is not a screamer, jumpscare, or any other kind of horror link I donât know the name of. It will not cause you to question reality and as far as Iâm aware, there is no reason it should cause any kind of hallucinations or psychosis. I donât want to spoil the surprise because itâs DELIGHTFUL but I am happy to tell you itâs very sweet and gentle and also great lowkey stress relief. This is a cinnamon roll link appropriate for all ages (yes, all the way down to babies) and you will enjoy it if you click it. â¤ď¸
Which one will you go through?
I am looking neither respectfully nor disrespectfully. I gaze without recognition of your form, and without understanding.
Me without my glasses
Artist Anastasia Trusova floods her canvases with vibrant colours and textures. "Textured graphic impressionism".

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âI keep that memory somewhere inside meâwhere itâs safe. I take it out and look at it when I need to. As if it were a photograph.â
â Benjamin Alire SĂĄenz, The Inexplicable Logic of My Life
these 20âs really aint roaring man
It puzzles me when people cite LOTR as the standard of âsimpleâ or âpredictableâ or âblack and whiteâ fantasy. Because in my copy, the hero fails. Frodo chooses the Ring, and itâs only Gollumâs own desperation for it that inadvertently saves the day. The fate of the world, this whole blood-soaked war, all the millennia-old machinations of elves and gods, comes down to two addicts squabbling over their Precious, and that is precisely and powerfully Tolkienâs point.Â
And then the hero goes home, and finds home a smoking desolation, his neighbors turned on one another, that secondary villain no one finished off having destroyed Frodoâs last oasis not even out of evil so much as spite, and then that villain dies pointlessly, and then his killer dies pointlessly. The hero is left not with a cathartic homecoming, the story come full circle in another party; he is left to pick up the pieces of what was and what shall never be again.Â
And itâs not enough. The hero cannot heal, and so departs for the fabled western shores in what remains a blunt and bracing metaphor for death (especially given his aged companions). When Sam tells his family, âWell, Iâm backâ at the very end, it is an earned triumph, but the very fact that someone making it back qualifies as a triumph tells you what kind of story this is: one that is too honest to allow its characters to claim a clean victory over entropy, let alone evil.Â
âI canât recall the taste of food, nor the sound of water, nor the touch of grass. Iâm naked in the dark. Thereâs nothingâno veil between me and the wheel of fire. I can see him with my waking eyes.â
So whereâs this silly shallow hippie fever-dream Iâve heard so much about? It sounds like a much lesser story than the one that actually exists.
+1 You know how Frodo leaves Sam with the legacy of the quest - the job of bearing witness to what happened - and the duty to finish and protect his writings? Tolkien lost all but one of his friends in WW1. He was founder member of a literary club at school - the TCBS. There was a larger group and a core of four. They all stayed friends, they kept writing and sharing their work with each other. And they were almost all killed. One of them, Geoffrey Smith, wrote this to Tolkien in 1916. My chief consolation is that if I am scuppered tonight â I am off on duty in a few minutes â there will still be left a member of the great T.C.B.S. to voice what I dreamed and what we all agreed upon.  [âŚ] May God bless you my dear John Ronald and may you say things I have tried to say long after I am not there to say them if such be my lot. And that was his last letter. Thereâs something eerie about the way he seems to have pegged Tolkien as an eventual survivor. Samâs survival (and his emergence as the true hero of the book) are beautiful because theyâre suffused with loss, because theyâre not the grand conquering heroic narrative that on some level was âsupposedâ to happen.
Tolkien possibly only survived because he got trench fever - a particularly nasty disease carried by lice - and got sent home because he was desperately ill. Considering how the rest of his unit fared, it probably saved his life. Unpleasant and unglamorous, but if not for that, we wouldnât have LOTR. Iâm sure survivorâs guilt was a factor - as was a sickening sense of dread when âThe War to End All Warsâ didnât, and his son went off to WWII.
TLOTR has some of the type of valorization of war that you find in the Old Norse and Anglo-Saxon literature that JRRT loved and studied and taught because he loved that style and itâs deeply fitting for cultures like the Rohirrim, but itâs also full of the slog of war, the waste and tragedy, and the irrevocable damage that even victorious survivors carry for the rest of their lives. Frodoâs symbolic âdeathâ is also resonant for survivors of what was called âshell-shockâ then and PTSD now.
I mean, itâs not Game of Thrones. Itâs not gritty in the same way. But the protagonist of LOTR was minor gentry from a backwater nobodyâd heard of, and the REAL hero who saved the world by saving him was his gardener. All the great kings and queens and lords and ladies in the story are background characters compared to the story of the little people. Literally little people, but symbolically too.
âI mean, itâs not Game of Thrones. Itâs not gritty in the same wayâ
well thank fuck for that
People are confused by the fact that the villains are unquestionably villainous.
Whatâs happened is that theyâve mistaken a specific brand of subversive storytelling for the only way to tell a morally complex story. The fact that subversion is relative to what youâre talking about has gotten muddied, because people have gone and labelled a certain plot type (which is actually a new fantasy staple in and of itself) as the âgreyâ or âmorally complexâ storyline.
This type of storyline is, of course, the one where the distinctions between heroes and villains are deliberately blurred. While there is definitely room to do things like âquestion the accuracy of the heroesâ perception of orcsâ in LotR, itâs also very clear that the canon narrative isnât aiming for that. We know who the heroes are and we know who the villains are, and apart from some stray moments of self-reflection or betrayal, this is never really brought into question.
People have grown accustomed to seeing only one kind of thing as âcomplexâ, which has, ironically, over-simplified a lot of narrative approaches in speculative fiction and fantasy. The prevailing attitude right now is that you canât call your story nuanced if you know who your bad guys are.Â
iâm a bitch who loves lavender everything
The Moon in paintings by Mariusz Lewandowski
i/ii

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Food Studies by Ben Lo
I canât stop watching it.
For fans of chocolate and fans of Particle Annihilation Beam technology