Hot cocoa on Mother's Day
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ellievsbear
occasionally subtle
DEAR READER
styofa doing anything
$LAYYYTER

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NASA
hello vonnie

@theartofmadeline

shark vs the universe
Cosimo Galluzzi
Xuebing Du

JVL
cherry valley forever
KIROKAZE

pixel skylines
Jules of Nature
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

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@arashisterren
Hot cocoa on Mother's Day
underrated bit is losing an object in the house and asking your pet, in an aggrieved voice, where they hid your precious object this time
my small useless crusty chihuahua (named Peppercorn) does do this with phones. he really likes to lay on top of phones like a brooding chicken. so if you can't find your phone and ur on the couch -- probably peppercorn's Special Egg now.
😭 i humbly request a photo of mr. peppercorn!!
LANA PARRILLA as REGINA MILLS Once Upon A Time, ‘The Stable Boy’
I’m just going to leave this here.
Clearly Vikings saved the world from nice guys
Don’t stop. Keep moving—harder, faster.
One tear sealed, now another.
Celine couldn’t remember the last time so many demons had broken through Honmoon. Countless hordes pressed in, a tide of bodies and claws. She knew she wouldn’t be able to save everyone. She closed one tear only for two more to appear in its place. The barrier always weakened in autumn, but never this much.
A lie.
She remembered a much larger horde all too well. Something precious had been taken from her then.
No. Don’t think about that. Not now.
Slash. Stab. Dodge.
A breath.
Another tear.
Repeat.
Exhaustion soaked into muscle and bone. Her body faltered, but she couldn’t stop. No matter how much she bled, how badly she limped, Celine cut down demon after demon.
Slash. Stab. Dodge.
Day gave way to night, but that meant nothing to the demons. The glowing installations around Cheonggyecheon meant nothing either.
Three hours ago Celine had gotten a call from Jeju—the demons had attacked the island. Mentors and a few mudang had gone to defend it.
She was alone. Just her, Seoul, and endless demon hordes.
The sun chased away the moon, thick clouds gathering overhead.
The boy—Celine refused to think about how, in another world, Rumi would be his age—dissolved before her eyes. Another soul she couldn’t save. Another she had failed.
The world wept and Celine wasn’t sure whether the drops on her face were rain or her own tears.
Slash. Stab. Dodge.
Night again. When had the sun set?
Celine leaned against a wall. Her body begged for a break, but she knew that if she sat down now, she’d never find the strength to rise again.
There. Another demon.
She clenched her teeth and, even as her body screamed for her to stop, she pushed forward.
The world swayed and blurred. Honmoon still wailed, but much quieter now. An hour had passed since the last tear.
Walls and bulletin boards were plastered with a terrifying number of posters. So many families would never see their loved ones again. All because of Celine. If only she had tried harder.
The world tilted.
No. No no no. Not now. Not now!
A pair of arms wrapped around her waist.
She closed her eyes just for a moment. And again those hands—soft and deceptively strong. They helped her into the elevator, then into the apartment, then into the bathroom.
Celine didn’t react to the sting of her wounds or the needle running through her skin. She deserved this and far more.
A soft blanket settled around her shoulders. No, she should be sitting here alone, in the cold bathroom, bleeding and paying for every failure.
When had she ended up in the bedroom?
Mi‑yeong and Hana looked at her from an old photograph. What would they think of her? She was supposed to be a fearless leader. Unbreakable. But she had failed. Failed so terribly.
She slid to the floor. The blanket slipped from her shoulders, her face buried in her hands.
“I need you. I need you both so much.”
So Julianna claimed a basket that was on top of some pillows as her bed. No problem, I'm pretty happy to let her sleep wherever she wants.
But the basket tipped over and she just kinda poured out. I'm not sure she understands what happened. She looks so confused.
Somehow she recovered from her shock.
Op I’m sorry I absolutely love your poor girl look at her confused little face
I love this more than words can express. I'm going to print this out and put it on the fridge.
Everyone Is Cheating Their Way Through College
For anyone unfamiliar with Paulo Freire's Pedagogy of the Oppressed, the entire thesis is that traditional educational models promote oppression by removing students' agency in their own learning. Freire argues that currently education functions as a "banking model" - teachers are the holders of knowledge, and students are empty vessels, waiting to have that knowledge put into their heads like a piggy bank. This reinforces a passive attitude towards information, not seeking and understanding it on your own terms, but waiting for a "banker" to deposit it into your head.
Instead, Freire proposes that teachers and students act as co-creators of knowledge, where students become active participants in their own learning through questions and dialogue. Teachers are also open to changing their understanding of topics in the process of critical dialogue - the goal is not "student learns Fact A and memorizes it as presented," but instead the goal is the knowledge itself, discovered collaboratively by teacher and student, who are acting with empathy and respect towards each other. This also starts the process of the oppressed being able and empowered to question structures of power, take agency, and actively participate in the transformation of society.
So, the irony of writing an AI essay on critical pedagogy is actually insane; because it's essentially the extrapolated endpoint of Freire's arguments that our current educational system creates passive receptacles who not only can't think critically in an educational context, but also become the perfect citizens for a world that doesn't want us questioning structures of power, to view those in power as we viewed our teachers - deliverers of indisputable facts that must be memorized and regurgitated because they command it, and not co-creators of true understanding.
I really want a oneshot fic that shows what Celine was experiencing during the Idol Awards. I imagine that she was watching, especially with how close they were to a Golden Honmoon, and she sees Mira and Zoey ripping off Rumi's jacket and saying things like "a demon with no feelings don't deserve to live".
I just want Celine's mother love to come out, desperately calling Bobby, anyone to see what is going on and why her charge daughter is being humiliated on stage.
all yall make jokes about couples and their nonromantic third wheel having fun together, but im the one getting treated to food tonight by the couple im nonromantically third wheeling. you wish you were me
I'm sorry I read this as "necromantic third wheel" and went on a very rapid powerful imagination adventure. hello lovebirds I'm the skeleton here for breadsticks
This is akin all those hot takes about the 2k bug being an hoax:
"Remember when they told us every computer was going to crash on 1/1/01 and there would be chaos and then nothing happened?"
Yeah, I remember. And I'm sure every programmer and sysadmin that contributed the billion person/hour global effort to prevent it also remembers.
No one talks about acid rain anymore, either. And that's a very good thing.
see also START and START II, which significantly reduced nuclear stockpiles
International cooperation is actually so effective that most people don’t even notice it happening, and then erroneously believe it can’t solve anything.
Fixing issues before they develop into actual disasters is such an underappreciated thing it hurts at all levels.
We don't talk about acid rain because there isn't any more acid rain because when acid rain started happening and we learned that the cause was mainly sulphur oxide and carbon monooxide from car exhausts, countries all over the world made it a law that car companies had to produce cars that produced less exhaust with better effectivenes (burning the fuel all the way to CO2 instead of the halfassed CO) and oil rafineries to remove the sulphur from the gasoline in the first place.
We don't talk about computers crashing because of the turn of the century, because thousands of programmers worked very hard to write updates and patches for Every Single Program humanity as a whole used back in 1999 and then somehow managed to failtest, distribute, and update every single device and system, be it an online or offline one before the midnight of the 1st january of 2000.
On a much smaller scale, no one ever commenta or notices cleaners and housekeepers doing their job - be it at home or at whole buildings - because they always make sure that there's nothing to notice. But don't be fooled - at any point of your life you are one week of them not doing away from swimming in trash and filth with nothing to eat and nothing clean to wear. Only then you would notice.
Now it's time to do that thing again and make sure that we don't kill our whole planetary ecosystem within the next century.
crazy how i find myself thinking i've got a handle on it all finally and then i see the ways that other people tangle their lives together so easily and live so easily together with their friends and i feel like that girl at the top of the stairs painting by norman rockwell
i'll always be here
Made a chart for sorting fantheories
I painted my cats as pikmin 🌱🌺