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#i hate the library
tardis--dreams · 1 year
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Oh so you're telling me the only reason I did well in school was because I had external pressure to get shit done in time and people forcing me to study and do homework and doing their best to help me get the most out of that silly little brain of mine? Cool
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trashmakerarticle · 7 months
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Everyone thinks that dick was the golden child when in reality it was Jason.
Clark: Bruce who was your favourite robin?
Dick: obviously it’s me?
Tim: it’s dick
Damian: I am superior robin, it will be me.
Bruce: it’s Jason
Everyone: WHAT?!?!???
Bruce: why are you so surprised? He didn’t jump on too my chandeliers which I had to replace each week
*everyone looks at dick*
Bruce: he didn’t drop out of school
*everyone looks at tim*
Bruce: I didn’t have to stop him from killing everyone who annoyed him
*everyone looks at Damian*
Bruce: in fact, he enjoyed school and handed all his homework in on time, we would spend hours in the library reading his favourite classics. He even helped Alfred with most of the cooking, He was my little boy
Jason: stop spreading lies, I hate you go away
Bruce: my precious little boy
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mokeonn · 10 months
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"But if college was free, then people would abuse that and get useless degrees" hell yeah I would! If I could go to college without debt I would make it my job to get a degree in every little thing that interested me. I'd get a doctorate in film studies. I'd have a bachelor's degree for every science I like. I'd try to learn at least 5 languages with varying results. I would learn something "useful" like coding and then follow it up with a ""useless"" degree like art history. I'd be the world record speed run holder for getting every degree possible.
But I can't afford college without going into massive debt, so instead I spent the last 5 years trying to figure out what I am passionate enough about to consider going into debt over, because unfortunately being passionate about everything is extremely expensive to pursue.
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As a young librarian, I started trying to figure out why more young people aren't ever coming in; 90% of our demographic are the elderly and parents of children, and the rest are a rough mix of the kids and teenagers who come in just for school projects. As a result, I've been attempting different ways to get the Youth TM to come into libraries, but first I wanted to see why they don't come in. Please reblog to get this poll out to more people! <3
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nipuni · 4 months
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Silence in the library
A speedpaint video of this will be available at my Patreon on february 1st!
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smoarchok · 5 months
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inspired by that mili x lor artwork
(in-universe these bitches have no music-related skills im 100% sure. this would be akin to watching preschoolers perform)
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lostillusionstuffs · 18 days
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That's the end, I don't believe in love anymore.
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autism-activated · 11 months
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I love you libraries I love you public transit I love you pollinator and community gardens I love you parks I love you community and rec centers I love you local coffee shops I love you spaces that aren't hostile to just hang out in.
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aromanticduck · 23 days
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There should be a website for aspecs that's a bit like doesthedogdie.com where it warns if a movie has sex scenes, romantic subplots, or amatonormative tropes.
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alizalayne · 8 months
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beetle and the hollowbones book banning roadtrip travelogue
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be-queer-do-arson · 1 year
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Hc that Andrew knows everything you could ever want to know about classic lit. No one knows how he knows, since no ones ever seen him read, and Andrew refuses to clear things up. The truth is there was a small library in juvie, and while it wouldn't have been his first choice, the selection wasn't big enough for him to be choosy. It had a lot of classics because they were considered "educational" and Andrew had time to kill. He never lets anyone see him read (except when he's alone on the roof with Neil) because everyone insists on making a huge deal out of it whenever he does "normal" things, but he loves using dramatic quotes when the opportunity arises.
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manitapaleta · 1 year
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the Li-Wilson family is the cutest, change my mind
(you cant)
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ofbreathandflame · 1 year
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With the rise of booktok/booktwt, there's been this weird movement against literary criticism. It's a bizarre phenomenon, but this uptick in condemnation of criticism is so stifling. I understand that with the rise of these platforms, many people are being reintroduced into the habit of reading, which is why at the base level, I understand why many 'popular' books on booktok tend to be cozier.
The argument always falls into the 'this book means too much to me' or 'let people enjoy things,' which is rhetoric I understand -- at least fundamentally. But reading and writing have always been conduits for criticism, healthy natural criticism. We grow as writers and readers because of criticism. It's just so frustrating to see arguments like "how could you not like this character they've been the x trauma," or "why read this book if you're not going to come out liking it," and it's like...why not. That has always been the point of reading. Having a character go through copious amounts of trauma does not always translate to a character that's well-crafted. Good worldbuilding doesn't always translate to having a good story, or having beautiful prose doesn't always translate into a good plot.
There is just so much that goes into writing a story other than being able to formulate tropable (is that a word lol) characters. Good ideas don't always translate into good stories. And engaging critically with the text you read is how we figure that out, how we make sure authors are giving us a good craft. Writing is a form of entertainment too, and just like we'd do a poorly crafted show, we should always be questioning the things we read, even if we enjoy those things.
It's just werd to see people argue that we shouldn't read literature unless we know for certain we are going to like it. Or seeing people not be able to stand honest criticism of the world they've fallen in love with. I love ASOIAF -- but boy oh boy are there a lot of problems in the story: racial undertones, questionable writing decisions, weird ness overall. I also think engaging critically helps us understand how an author's biases can inform what they write. Like, HP Lovecraft wrote eerie stories, he was also a raging racist. But we can argue that his fear of PoC, his antisemitism, and all of his weird fears informed a lot of what he was writing. His writing is so eerie because a lot of that fear comes from very real, nasty places. It's not to say we have to censor his works, but he influences a lot of horror today and those fears, that racial undertone, it is still very prevalent in horror movies today. That fear of the 'unknown,'
Gone with the Wind is an incredibly racist book. It's also a well-written book. I think a lot of people also like confine criticism to just a syntax/prose/technical level -- when in reality criticism should also be applied on an ideological level. Books that are well-written, well-plotted, etc., are also -- and should also -- be up for criticism. A book can be very well-written and also propagate harmful ideologies. I often read books that I know that (on an ideological level), I might not agree with. We can learn a lot from the books we read, even the ones we hate.
I just feel like we're getting to the point where people are just telling people to 'shut up and read' and making spaces for conversation a uniform experience. I don't want to be in a space where everyone agrees with the same point. Either people won't accept criticism of their favorite book, or they think criticism shouldn't be applied to books they think are well written. Reading invokes natural criticism -- so does writing. That's literally what writing is; asking questions, interrogating the world around you. It's why we have literary devices, techniques, and elements. It's never just taking the words being printed at face value.
You can identify with a character's trauma and still understand that their badly written. You can read a story, hate everything about it, and still like a character. As I stated a while back, I'm reading Fourth Wing; the book is terrible, but I like the main character. The worldbuilding is also terrible, but the author writes her PoC characters with respect. It's not hard to acknowledge one thing about the text, and still find enough to enjoy the book. And authors grow when we're honest about what worked and what didn't work. Shadow and Bone was very formulaic and derivative at points, but Six of Crows is much more inventive and inclusive. Veronica Roth's Carve the Mark had some weird racial problems, but Chosen Ones was a much better book in terms of representation. Percy Jackson is the same way. These writers grow, not just by virtue of time, but because they were critiqued and listened to that critique. C.S. Lewis and Tolkien always publically criticized each other's work. Zora Neale Hurston and Langston Hughes had a legendary friendship and back and forth with one another's works which provides so much insight into the conversations black authors and creatives were having.
Writing has always been about asking questions; prodding here and there, critiquing. It has always been a conversation, a dialogue. I urge people to love what they read, and read what they love, but always ask questions, always understand different perspectives, and always keep your mind open. Please stop stifling and controlling the conversations about your favorite literature, and please understand that everyone will not come out with the same reading experience as you. It doesn't make their experience any less valid than yours.
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oakdown · 3 months
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SILENCE IN THE LIBRARY — THE GIGGLE
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momotonescreaming · 6 months
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Just a little thing based off of this text post of mine.
Eddie had made a lot of bad decisions in his life. Stacked them up like blocks, one on top of the other. Poorly thought out choices, impulsive things, all building on top of one another. There was good, of course — moving in with Wayne, learning guitar, picking up that DnD book at the thrift store — but this, this, was not one of them.
He was really starting to regret everything that led him to this point. Hunched over books and flash cards at the Wheeler’s dining room table, Nancy trying to grill fact after fact into his brain. He regretted failing high school the first time around, and the second. He regretted taking notes that weren’t ‘good enough’ according to Nancy. He regretted mentioning his determination to pass the third time round. He regretted letting Steve get under his skin, looking at him with large, thinking eyes. Regretted listening when he said that he could ask Nancy to help him — she helped Steve after all. Regretted getting into his car and driving over to the Wheeler house on a Saturday afternoon.
Absently wonders if the fact that Steve and Nancy were fucking when she tutored him had anything to do with Steve’s positive view of her studying method. Because, Eddie thinks, doodling a skull into his notebook, she sucks. Glaring at him with all the fury of one of Wayne’s old army sergeants, lips pursed, nails tapping on the wooden table top. Like that is supposed to help. Is supposed to make him feel better about his failures.
He watches the motion of her fingers, nails painted a careful pale pink. Watches as she organises the piles of flashcards she made him write out — writing them himself, and not her doing it would help the material stick better in his brain, apparently. It was almost as if she had forgotten he was repeating senior year for the third time. In the same classes, with the same material, writing it down for the third year in a row. Writing it down wasn’t going to make it stick.
The doodles on the cards don’t help her glaring. The suns, and dragons, and swords, he’d scribbled over all the pages. It helped him think, having something to do with his hands while she lectured him. She didn’t see it that way. He was distracted. As if it was his fault the material was so fucking boring. Or the fact she tutored him with all the enthusiasm of a child being dragged out of their room by force. She didn’t have to say yes.
She sighs, a sharp, put-upon thing. Terse and to the point.
Eddie looked up at her, raising an eyebrow, bitten pen clutched tightly in his hand. She was pointedly looking at him, flash cards in her hands, not saying anything. Fuck, Eddie wasn’t a mind reader. What is he doing wrong now? Apart from everything, apparently.
His notes are bad, his handwriting is too messy, his flashcards are covered in doodles. He keeps staring off into space, humming and tapping and bouncing his feet. They’ve been at this for hours, and Eddie is about to lose his mind.
“What?” He says, gesturing with his hands, before throwing them down on the table. His rings hit the wood with a clunk. It’s satisfying, but he can swear he can see Nancy’s eye twitch at the sound.
“Nothing,” She says, shaking her head so her curls bounce. Tilting her gaze away from him, before looking back down at one of her textbooks. He can still see the purse of her lips, the tensing of her shoulders. “Finish your notes.”
“Doesn’t look like nothing,” Eddie says, feeling a sharper edge cut it’s way through his words. Tries to hold back the urge to dig his nails into the table and scratch. “What am I fucking up now?”
She huffs, looks up, puts the pile of his flashcards down, before looking over at him. “I just think this would go a lot better if you actually tried.”
Eddie inhales as soon as the words leave her mouth. Sharp and cutting. Air cool, but his blood is boiling. His whole body tenses, he stops his tapping and itching and fidgeting. Locks his eyes with hers and grinds his teeth.
“Excuse me?” Eddie says, grating and angry. Glaring over at Nancy with her perfectly permed hair and ironed blouse. With her perfect little family and her dad who earns six figures. With her good fucking grades and the entitlement to match. Who does she fucking think she is? “You think I’m not fucking trying?”
“Well,” She starts, a slight sing-song lilt to her voice, as she tilts her head again, looking down at Eddie’s scrawled notes and doodled flashcards. If she finishes that sentence with some bullshit like ‘if the shoe fits’ or ‘look at the evidence’ Eddie’s flipping the table.
“No.” He says, cutting her off before she can even think of finishing the sentence. Nancy glares at him, snapping her mouth shut. Not even bothering to hide her annoyance at being interrupted. Eddie doesn’t fucking care anymore. “You think I’d be here if I wasn’t trying? You think I wouldn’t have gone back to fucking high school two times, if I wasn’t trying?”
He’s gripping the edge of the table now, knuckles white with the force of it. He can feel his rings digging into his skin, pressed against the wooden table. Eddie’s sure he looks wild, frizzy hair in a halo around his head, eyes sharp and glaring, jaw clenched. Sure he looks like the kind of guy Mrs. Wheeler doesn’t want in her home. Doesn’t want associating with her perfect daughter. Fuck off. He should have said no. Tried to study by himself. Asked Jeff. Anything would be better than this.
Eddie’s fucking trying. He’s been holding his tongue whenever Nancy makes a passive aggressive, snippy comment. Asks her questions when she refuses to elaborate. Tries to hold back his fidgeting and tapping. Hasn’t even been snarking back whenever Nancy huffs and gets all annoyed when he doesn’t automatically know what she wants from him.
“You’re barely making a dent, Eddie,” She eventually says, holding her back straight. Looking down at him. “You’re not listening.”
“No, you’re not listening, Wheeler.” Eddie retorts, notebook abandoned in front of him. “I’m not good at school, I know this, but I’m trying so fucking hard to be better. To graduate. You just can’t get it through your head that I’m not you.”
“Of course you’re not-“ Nancy starts before Eddie cuts her off again. He’s on a roll now, the words tumbling out of his mouth.
“Your little flashcards, and your quizzes aren’t working; and Jesus Christ, you can’t get it through your permed head that maybe you should try something else?” Eddie spits.
“I’m just following the correct steps. They way we’re supposed to do it.” Nancy retorts, voice held carefully in her mouth.
“It’s not your way or the highway, Wheeler. In fact, your way fucking sucks.” He replies. “You’re a shit fucking teacher.”
He ignores her huff.
“Don’t quit your day job, I’m out of here.” Eddie says as he sweeps his notebooks and papers off of the table and into his backpack, not caring about the uncapped pens and the loose papers getting crumpled. Eddie’s not putting himself through this anymore. The second he has all of his things, he pushes away from the table, chair squeaking horribly against the floor. Nancy winces at the sound, lips held in a tight line, glaring at him.
Eddie pulls a smug face at her, before storming out of her house.
The second he’s outside he lets his face drop. Feels the sinking in his chest. Why don’t people understand that he wants to graduate? That he keeps coming back because he’s trying so fucking hard. He wants to make it. He wants to be a better man than his father.
Shoving his keys in the ignition, Eddie drowns his thoughts out with the blaring of his music that thunders out through the van’s stereo the second he starts it. He blinks back the tears that threaten to fall, clenches his shaking hands on the steering wheel, and peels off towards Forest Hills.
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ao3 being down (😔) makes me really wanna show some appreciation for this queen
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you can borrow e-books with your library card!!! it works with your local library system!!! they auto-return at the end of your turn so it's guaranteed no-fees and you can place holds as well!! it works functionally the same as an irl public library!!! and (since it's an e-library meant as a way for public libraries to let people borrow ebooks) using it is a great way to support public libraries even if you cannot go to one irl!! libby my beloved
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