a stud in black leather on a black motorcycle just revved their engine at me and thank god I tore my demonic uterus out ages ago because I think that would have finally knocked me up
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oh my god not me being so unobservant i didnt even realize we get to be visible this week🫢 anyway i think all the lesbians should take advantage of this new visibility to find each other for once and also to kiss 👉👈
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i love antique stores you go to check out & theyre like “where the hell did you get this”
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There are currently ~2300 works in AO3 tagged with "Created Using Generative AI"
I'll be upfront with my opinion, which mirrors my opinion in regards to my field: using AI will only hasten your own obsolescence. The point of fanfiction is not to crank out fics, but rather to enjoy the hobby and communities of writing and fandom.
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cursed with "do you still like me?" "are you mad at me?" "did i do something wrong?" disorder
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It puzzles me when people cite LOTR as the standard of “simple” or “predictable” or “black and white” fantasy. Because in my copy, the hero fails. Frodo chooses the Ring, and it’s only Gollum’s 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 Tolkien’s point.
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 Frodo’s 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.
And it’s 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, “Well, I’m back” 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.
“I can’t recall the taste of food, nor the sound of water, nor the touch of grass. I’m naked in the dark. There’s nothing–no veil between me and the wheel of fire. I can see him with my waking eyes.”
So where’s this silly shallow hippie fever-dream I’ve heard so much about? It sounds like a much lesser story than the one that actually exists.
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IM SO SICK OF YOU ALL
No nuance allowed. please share for a bigger sample 💕💕💕💕💕
*by eat i mean how do you prefer your cereal.
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Congratulations! You are now a Magic-User!!
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trying to gauge my bank account before i have to start asking for help on here
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My body is a collection of all the parts that came before! 🌱🌱🌱
[Image ID: A drawing of a trans masculine person, nude except for underwear. The figure has top surgery scars, and no head, the bottom of a jaw bone with plants growing from it floating above the neck. There are flowers, mushrooms, and stars surrounding the figure, and a bird flying to the left of the canvas. /. End ID]
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IN THE FACE OF EXTERMINATION, SAY “FUCK YOU”
prints
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//MAENAD// 2021
for my girlfriend, who is beautiful and loved and deserves to see herself as the work of art she is
Inspired by Ancient Greek art, The Bacchae by Euripides, and being a trans theater artist in the middle of a plague.
Available >HERE< as a sticker!
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