Scientists invented fabric that makes electricity from motion and sunlight. To create the fabric, researchers at Georgia Tech wove together solar cell fibers with materials that generate power from movement. It could be used in “tents, curtains, or wearable garments,” meaning we’d virtually never be without power. Source

being told ur lazy and also having depression is confusing sometimes bc when u dont feel like doing anything u don’t know if ur being lazy or ur just depressed

  • Enjolras:Grantaire, I love you but if I see you eating another potato chip covered in spray cheese and nutella I swear to god I'm kicking you out of this flat.
  • Grantaire:oh says you, Monsieur Rambutan! FRUIT ISN'T SUPPOSED TO HAVE TENTACLES, ENJOLRAS!

I’m laughing so hard and utterly clueless at the moment from the little mixed comments of my art where some people say “no my [insert ship name here] is the best, papyton sucks” I mean okay that’s cool, everyone has their opinions….but…whydoyoustillreblogjusttoleavethatonecomment???????

the son you always had (III)

(four lives william scully didn’t have, and one he did)

this one got weird and over-long

tomorrow’s WON’T BE SAD. but it also might not be tomorrow, because I might not have internet tomorrow. we’ll find out!

part I, part II

III. 2008

It’s the last day of school before Christmas, and William is stuck in a red sweater with a snowman on it. It’s way too warm to wear a sweater and the nearest snowman is hundreds of miles away, but there’s no use arguing with Grandma about stuff like this.

His cousin Matty is also wearing a dumb Christmas sweater - his is green, with Rudolph on the front - and they walk to school in shared misery. Matty is in fourth grade, and he walks William to school every day. William is glad to have him. Most second-graders don’t have a big kid to protect them.

Not that Matty is very threatening in the Rudolph sweater.

They part ways when they get to the front door of the school. Today is a fake day, all songs and cookies and watching Disney movies on the whiteboard.

In the morning, Mrs. Marquez sort of pretends to teach. They do a math lesson where they add and subtract candy canes, and during art they make snowmen out of cotton balls. William is not the only kid in his class wearing a dumb snowman sweater.

William loves Mrs. Marquez, with her big eyes and her soft voice. A couple of the kids have accidentally called her Mom this year, and William is deeply glad that he isn’t one of them. It seems even worse, somehow, to do that when you don’t have a mom of your own.

(William doesn’t yet know the details of his parents’ deaths. He knows that it was a car accident, he knows that it was a tragedy. He doesn’t know his parents were fugitives on the run from the law. In a few years Matty will turn mean, as children tend to do, and he will be the one who tells William the truth, taunting him: you’re a criminal too, you’re gonna go to jail, you’re just like them. Years after that he’ll apologize, and William will barely remember that it ever happened - they’ll have been friends for so long, and there will be so much water under the bridge.)

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