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la-belle-laide:

dynamicsymmetry:

so-caffeinated:

Why are people ashamed of writing fanfic? I just saw someone who is writing a fanfic for NanoWriMo - who has dedicated themselves to writing 50k words of fanfic this month - say that fanfic was their ‘secret shame’ on a forum entirely made up of fanfic writers. 

And you know what? That’s not at all uncommon. I can’t even count the times I’ve seen fanfic disparaged as something for teenage girls or unworthy all together and I think I’ve finally worked out why. And the reason irks me just as much as the fact that this happens. 

Fanfic is, by and large, written by women. It’s a creative voice that fills a void left in Hollywood as well as in publishing houses. Only 9% of spec scripts (for movies) sold between 2010 and 2012 were written by women. In 2010, 84% of the reviewers for the New York Review of Books were men and 83% of the books they reviewed were also by men. Female writers make up only 29% of TV staff jobs, a drop of 1.5% from last season, with things looking even bleaker for minorities, who hold only 13.7 percent of TV staff writer jobs. All of these facts add up to one thing - these days, writing is utterly dominated by middle aged, white men. They floods our televisions, our bookshelves, and our movie screens and sometimes we fall in love with the characters but maybe we don’t see the story we wanted told. So we write fic. 

But do you know what I think? I think that shame comes from being bold enough to dare to have a voice. I think we’re viewing our own perspectives as somehow less, unworthy in comparison to the ‘norm’ of ‘real’ storytelling that we see validated by being put on television and movie screens and bookstore shelves. While we might, as a culture, tolerate such daring activity amongst teenage girls, we also view it as childish, something women are meant to outgrow, something shameful to hold onto as adults. But it isn’t just fanfic we’re shaming. It’s our voices, our validity, and that makes me sick. 

So be a fanfic writer. Be the best goddamned fanfic writer you can be. Use your voice and be proud of it because it’s yours. There is nothing ‘less’ about fanfic. And there never will be. 

Not to mention, a growing number of professional writers were and sometimes even still are active in fandom in this respect. I’m one of them.

Fanfiction taught me how to write and gave me the courage to start submitting my stuff to places. I’ll scream it from the rooftops.

I’ve written fanfiction for AGES. Since before the internet, okay, I used to write it for myself. I’ve read fanfiction (particularly in my latest fandom) that was stellar, that blew published books out of the water. Ones I could read over and over.

And hey listen, last summer I got an agent for my original stuff. And my agent? Is super supportive of, and into, fandom and fanfiction.

Guys, so much stuff is fanfic - or is derivative, or a remix. (We do tend to label it “fanfic” if it’s written by women, and “remakes” or some other, classier sounding thing if it’s written by dudes. So yeah, let’s really think about why that is.) I could not even sit here and list every major piece of writing in history that was derived from some other thing, come on.

Don’t be ashamed of fanfic. Love it, read it, write it.

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doujinshi:

ur2omgwtflolz:

I know I’m primarily a porn blog into fucked up shit like BDSM.  and tentacle pregnancies and shit, but I also want people to be happy (evenif they like weird shit).

So take it from Japanese cartoon man - the most important thing that matter is that you decently towards your fellow humans. So do it!

yeah same

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pigeonaday:

Submission:  Craig P

Proud Wizard Pigeon

We Finally Know How Naked Mole Rats Survive Without Oxygen, and It's Really Freaking Weird

myfrogcroaked:

Instead of sticking to a glucose-based system, which is dependent on oxygen, when a naked mole rat is deprived of oxygen, it switches its metabolism so that its brain cells start burning fructose for energy instead of glucose.  

Fructose can be turned into energy anaerobically - which means it doesn’t require the presence of oxygen to be broken down into cellular energy.

Until now, this anaerobic pathway was thought only to be used by plants.  

cyanwrites:

najikasun:

dawhitebag:

yall-aphobes-need-to-stop:

jinxii-infinity:

risotto-relatable:

loftwingpursuit:

pokemon-black-version:

aphobeasriel:

this pride month if i see ANY of you fuckers including ace/aro identities anywhere, if you even fucking say the words asexual or aromantic in any context of pride in any day this June, you have 0% of my patience and respect. this month isn’t for ace/aro identities and never will be. shut the fuck up.

It sure is June and I’ve never been prouder to call myself asexual

What a great day to be Asexual and Aromantic!

Wow aces and aros are so cool

Man I love and support all asexuals and aromantics this Pride!

The perfect month to shower my cishet ace fiancé in kisses and remind him every day that he’s part of our community and that I’m proud of him.

I love being ace!

I love my ace gf and can’t wait to propose to her next month! I also love all my ace/aro friends and followers!

Why are allosexuals always so angry?

Man you know who’s awesome and have always been part of the queer umbrella and Pride? Asexuals and aromantics. I love them dearly.

reblog this if you think asexuality is a valid orientation and you fully support it

madamebadger:

A story that may have relevance for others, or then again, maybe not:

When I was in college, about ten or so years ago, I was a history major. I wanted to learn to dance, so I joined a swing dance club on campus. To my surprise, this club had about twice as many men as women (in high school, the last time I’d tried dancing, the ratio had gone the other way–lots of girls, and boys only that you could drag by their ears).

But apparently, there had been some kind of word spread specifically to the STEM guys that dance was a way that they could meet girls.

So anyway. I joined the swing dance club, and met a few guys. And at one point, when socializing with the guys outside of dance class, one of them asked me what my research was on. (I had already established that I was an honors history student doing a thesis, just as he had established that he was an honors… I’m not sure if he was CS or Math, but it was one of those.)

So I gave him the thumbnail sketch of my research. Now, to be clear, an honors senior thesis, while nothing like what a graduate student would do, was still fairly in-depth. I had to translate primary sources from the original late-Classical Latin. (My professor said, basically, that while there were plenty of translations of my source material, that I’d only be able to comfortably trust them if I had at least made a stab at a translation of my own. And he was right.) And there was so much secondary material, often contradictory, that I had been carefully sorting through.

But I was able to sift it into a three-sentence summary of my senior thesis work, you know, as one does.

So I gave him that summary, and then asked–since he was also an undergraduate senior doing an honors thesis–what his research was on.

“Oh,” he said, “you wouldn’t understand it.”

Reader, I went home in a frothing rage. Because I had thought we were playing one game–a game of ‘let’s talk about what we’re passionate about!’– and he had been playing another game, which was, one-upsmanship. I had done my best to give a basically understandable brief of my research–and he had used that against me. As if my research, my painstaking translation, my digging through archives and ILLs of esoteric works, my reading of ten thousand articles in Speculum (yes, the pre-eminent medievalist journal in North America is called Speculum, I’m sorry, it’s hilarious/sad but also true), and then my effort to sum it up for him, was nothing. Because his research into some kind of algorithm or other was just too complex for my tiny brain to conceive of. Because I just couldn’t possibly understand his work.

Now, the important note here is that the person I went home to was my senior year roommate. She was a graduate student–normally undergrads and graduate students couldn’t be roommates, but we’d been friends for years, and the tenured faculty-in-residence used his powers for good and permitted us to be roommates that year. Anyway. My senior year roommate was basically… in retrospect I think possibly an avatar of Athena. She was six feet tall, blonde, attractive in a muscular athletic way, a rock climber and racquetball player, sweet but sharp, extremely socially awkward, exceptionally kind even when it cost her to be kind, and an incredibly brilliant computer science major who spent most of her time working on extremely complicated mathematical algorithms. (Yes, I was a little in love with her, why do you ask? But she was as straight as a length of rope, and is now happily married, and so am I, so it worked out.)

(Still, yes, she is my mental image of Athena, to this day.)

Anyway, I came home in a frothing rage to my roommate, the Athena avatar. And I said, “He made me feel like such an idiot, that I could sum up my research to him but his research was just too smart for stupid little me.”

And she shut her book, and smiled at me, with her dark eyes and her high cheekbones and her bright hair, and said, “If he can’t explain his research to you, then he’s not nearly as smart as he thinks he is.”

Now I hesitated, because I’d be in college long enough to have sort of bought into the ridiculous idea that if you couldn’t dazzle them with your brilliance, you should baffle them with your bullshit. But she said, “Look, I’ve been doing work on computer science algorithms that have significantly complicated mathematical underpinnings. What do I do?”

And I said, “Genetic algorithms–that is, self-optimizing algorithms–for prioritization, specifically for scheduling.”

“Right,” she said. “You couldn’t code them because you’re not a computer scientist or a mathematician. But you can understand what I do. If someone can’t explain it like that, it isn’t a problem with you as a person. It’s a problem with them. They either don’t understand it as well as they think they do–or they want to make you feel inferior. And neither is a positive thing.”

So. There.

If you are looking into something and have a question, and someone treats you like an idiot for not understanding right away… here is what I have to say: maybe it isn’t you who is the idiot.

themagdalenwriting:

fireandwonder:

nooowestayandgetcaught:

swanjolras:

y’know, some of the ground rules for behavior on tumblr make me squint

don’t give people your true name or they will be able to control you

stories are an acceptable form of payment

the inhabitants hide their real forms behind glamours and avatars

the longer you play here, the harder it is to leave

#actual sidhe court of the internet tbqh

You think you’ve only been here a few hours, but then you realize that years have passed.

When you return to RL, no one understands you, because they do not know the memes.

But I think we can all agree this shit is unseelie af

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ckeichan:

I know I’m a little late on this fandom….But here is a drawing of the Medic :) 

Frame credit: Geverto

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keymintt:

Some little pride flag dragons I made in honor of Pride month!!! Happy Pride month everyone!!!!!!!!!!

Stickers are avaliable Here

sinuswave:

What our Concept Art teacher wanted us to do:

What my friend did:

teamoftres:

when you watch some good mcelroy content to tune out the depression

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twitchytyrant:

I can’t believe he killed Harrison Ford twice

Dumpable Offence

dumpableoffence:

spilled houmous all over themselves so that you couldn’t rest your head lovingly on their lap

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pardonmewhileipanic:

itsdeepforhappypeople:

tereshkova2001:

buzzfeedlgbt:

Bookmarking now and forever (x)

This is a *really good* article that both handles anatomy concerns and presumes zero background makeup knowledge. Well done.

It’s amazing that the cover photo is showing both older women and people of color, something that the media consistently ignores regarding the trans community.

for my followers

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calculatedmadness:

omg-humor:

That’s actually not even a bad idea

I love this.

I did the thing, I changed my icon.

*confetti*

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a-fantastic-fox:

Set floof to maximum…. *fffffFOOMP*

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