Most of my Saturday was spent looking up stuff about Bina48.
BINA48 is a project of Terasem Movement, Inc™ and is designed to test whether a person’s consciousness can be downloaded into a non-biological or nanotechnological body after combining detailed data about a person through the use of future consciousness software
So lemme get this… the developer/CEO of the development company is a jewish trans lesbian woman and the highest paid female ceo in america, and this project is based on her wife, a black lesbian woman, and both are mothers with children from previous relationships who they have now each legally adopted???
this exists in the actual world and people still think sci fi can only be about straight cis vaguely-christian white men…….
How unfaithful man started praying. How an angel lost his wings trying to fix the world. How a boy went too far, with nothing but good intentions.
after reblogging this i opened up a card my great aunt gave me it has money in itIt could be a complete coincidence but I reblogged this yesterday and toda I fouund $40 at the fruit maket
when you got nothing you got nothing to lose
I got a job after reblogging this !
Just got a job
I am absolutely desperate. I’d settle for, like, $5 at this point.
she just stood there doing this little dance until we got up
…that heart makes her a survivor
September 18, 2008
You do not owe shit to anyone.
Especially not to those who claim you do.
You deserve to pursue your own happiness.
Even if it means you’ll have to disappoint people.
You deserve to be loved.
You deserve to respect yourself more than anyone else.
You deserve to care for yourself more than for anyone else.
You are your own person and noone, I repeat, no-fucking-one is allowed to tell you otherwise or to make you feel bad about doing all of the above.
“Why are you crying?”
You’re not a grunt, Dean. You’re a genius.
A monster, I’ve turned into a monster.
If I had the power, I would ask all the authors in the world to do Yuletide or something like it every year. Sign up for a fic exchange and write some porn for a stranger; tailor your stories to an audience of one, let go of the long-form plots and the careful wide-spectrum appeal, embrace the joy of spending a hundred words on Carlos’s perfect hair or Buffy’s perfect shoes or Jo’s perfect knives. Remember the joy of waiting for one person to open a story and see what it contains.
Because fanfic is joy. Fanfic is fixing the things you see as broken, and patching the seams between what’s written and what is not, and giving characters who got cheated out of their happy endings another chance. There was a time, not that long ago as we measure things, where all fiction was what we would now call “fan fiction.” Shakespeare didn’t come up with most of his own plots. He wrote plays about the stories people already loved. We didn’t get a thousand versions of “Snow White” accidentally: people changed that story to suit themselves, and no one said they weren’t storytellers, or looked down on them for loving that core of red and black and white, of apples and glass and snow.