The Way Victorie And Robin And Ramy All Loose Their Birth Languages Has Me In Shambles. Victorie Never

if i bite my lips it’s not to flirt, i’m just ripping the skin off my lips because of stress

Story time:

In middle school biology, we did an experiment. We were given yams, which we would sprout in cups of water. We then had to make hypotheses about how the yams would grow, based on descriptions of yam plants in our books, and make notes of our observations as they grew.

Here’s what was supposed to happen: we were supposed to see that the actual growth of the plant did not resemble our hypotheses. We were then supposed to figure out that these were, in fact, sweet potatoes.

What actually happened was that every single student in every single class lied in their notes so that their observations perfectly matched their hypotheses. See, everyone assumed the mismatch meant they had done something wrong in the process of growing the plant or that they had misunderstood the dichotomous key or the plant identification terminology. And, thanks to the wonders of a public school education, everyone assumed the wrong results would get us a failing grade. We were trying to pass. We didn’t want to get bitched out by the teacher. Curiosity, learning, science - that had nothing to do with why we were sitting in that classroom. So we all lied.

The teacher was furious. She tried to fail every student, but the administration stepped in and told her she wasn’t allowed to because a 100% fail rate is recognized as a failure of the teacher, not the class. It wasn’t even her fault, really, though her being a notorious hard-ass didn’t help. It was a failure of the entire educational system.

So whenever I see crap like Elizabeth Holmes’s blood test scam or pharmaceutical trials which are unable to be replicated or industry-funded research that reaches wildly unscientific conclusions, I just remember those fucking sweet potatoes. I remember that curiosity dies when people are just trying to give their superiors the “right” answers, so they can get the grade, get the job, get the paycheck. It’s not about truth when it’s about paying rent. There’s no scientific integrity if you can’t control for human desperation.

You must be fooling yourself if you don’t think your morally-grey love interest doesn’t lay on the chest of the individual they love. You’re going to tell me that it’s always Poppy laying on Casteel’s chest? That Rhys doesn’t seek that sort of comfort with Feyre? Cardan not crawling over Jude to get her attention and just lying there soaking up the fact that she’s his wife? I don’t believe it for a minute.

truly losing my patience for weaponized incompetence in group projects. "oh... i'm just bad with computers..." or "oh i never learned how to use excel..." you are surrounded by free resources to teach you those skills. it is not my job.

I love that Tumblr is actually a community. Your blog will be quite poor and boring if you only post your own stuff. Most of our blogs contain countless reblogs and discussions with other people on the website. This is communication and appreciation of each other’s creativity, thoughts, sketches and etc. It’s one thing to mindlessly like tons of photos a day like TikTok and Instagram offer you, and another to reblog and add hashtags and some comments about how the post made you feel or what you think you could add to a joke, a headcanon, an au, a story, an art… It makes this hellsite feel genuine.

my blog is me it's a compilation of every single thing i love. every dream, every bête noir, every shitpost or meme that entertains my broken sense of humor, everything

I'm not sure I can actually fully express how much I love libraries. No matter how long I might go without being in one, they are always there when I need them. Nothing is safer to me than rows of books in a community building. I don't remember lots of my childhood, but I remember what it felt like to stand in my school's library and feel like it was so much larger than it actually was. I remember almost every day after high school I wouldn't be picked up for a while, so I would walk to the public library right next door. I'd sit there for hours, on the floor, picking through whatever was nearby. I volunteered there. I used it to read books my family wouldn't allow me to touch. Even now, as an adult, when I feel unsafe I go to the library. I'll spend all day there, reading, drawing, just sitting. No one wants anything from you for being there. You can just sit and be and it's warm and safe and fun.

"The chimera is the demi-god killer. Someone has to stay back to slow her down and buy everyone some time."

tumblr is the safest social media to open in public bc nobody recognises its interface. if u recognise it thats ur problem