Tell me where you're from in the tags, if you want.

Reblog for sample size!

Nothing makes me want to call math fake as much as the Monty Hall problem. Not even 0.999999... equaling 1. Yes I understand the proof yes it technically makes sense but I just hate the Monty Hall problem so, so much.

Is that the game show one with the doors?

Correct. The basic scenario is that there is a car behind one door and a goat behind two doors, and you don't know which is which but the game show host does. If you pick the door with the car, you win the car. The host let's you pick a door, then opens one of the two doors you didn't pick, revealing a goat. The host then offers you one last chance to switch your pick from your original door to the other remaining closed door.

The Monty Hall problem states that you should always switch your pick, and that by doing so you will double your chances of winning the car.

Which, intuitively, that's nonsense. Your choice has no actual impact on the reality of the situation. You're guessing blindly the same as before, it's just now that you have a one-in-two chance of guessing the right door instead of a one-in-three chance.

EXCEPT

During your first round of choosing, you had a 1/3 chance of guessing the car vs a 2/3 chance of guessing a goat, if you were only allowed that one guess. But once it's narrowed down to two doors, one with a goat and one with a car, you're now guaranteed to get the exact opposite outcome of what your original guess would have been if you switch. So if you stick with your first choice, you still have a 1/3 chance of getting the car and 2/3 chance of getting a goat. But if you switch, then suddenly that becomes a 1/3 chance of getting a goat, and a 2/3 chance of getting the car.

It's bullshit and I hate it so much.

I understand it but i hate it, like the maths is right but logically it just doesn't click

See, you understand my pain.

#why doesn’t choosing the same door you already chose have the same effect? that’s what I want to know#like does math not agree with the sage advice of ya authors that not choosing is also a choice?

The trick to it is that you're technically playing two games in a row, and the second one is the only one that you actually have to win.

In the first game, you have two chances to lose (picking a goat) and once chance to win (picking a car). Worse-than-even odds. But the important thing is, you don't actually get a prize for winning this first game. It's just set-up for the second one.

In the second game, sticking with your door is basically saying "I think I made a lucky guess in the first game, I'm sticking with that decision." Switching doors is saying "I don't think I got lucky in the first round, so I'm going to change my decision." You are gambling on whether you won or lost the first game, and what wins or loses you the prize is guessing correctly whether you were lucky in the first game. And because the odds of the first game were worse-than-even, guessing that you lost the first game is the safer bet, because you probably weren't lucky.

The really painful part of it is that our brains want to interpret it all as one game, where you've basically got 50/50 odds no matter what you do. That's what our every instinct is screaming at us should be happening, because the physical endgame is two closed doors, only one of them with something we want behind it, which has been there from the start. But it isn't one game with 50/50 odds. It's two games in a trenchcoat, and their combined odds are skewed.

“You are gambling on whether you won or lost the first game” is in fact the only time the Monty Hall problem has ever made even a shadow of sense to me, and I think you should get an honorary PhD in math or maybe philosophy for writing it down.

I finally now understand why you should change your door!!!

i need a bigger sample size because the idea that so many of you dont tie your hair when you sleep is giving me palpations

It varies between a ponytail, a braid, and a bun.

I twist it above my head and then sleep on it. But it’s not secured by anything

Here’s a very good explanation of “mini writers rooms” — one of the main sticking points for the WGA strike.

Source @notcapnamerica on Twitter 🤎

I-I'm sorry but I can't stop thinking about this

My roommate just called from the kitchen to ask what was wrong because I laughed so hard I gave myself a coughing fit.

I'm so glad the music is what I thought it'd be.

THE BEBBE. *ded*

April 8: Alone

Day 8 of @hinnymicrofic

The portrait closes behind them, effectively shutting out the sounds of raucous cheers and wolf-whistles, and they’re finally, finally alone.

She looks up at him, her lips twisting into an elated smile, letting her gaze rove over his face in a way she’d never truly allowed herself. His eyes are so green, so striking; she’d felt them on her everywhere for months, like a light misty rain clinging in droplets to her cloak, but now his stare is direct and she feels it down to her toes.

“Sorry for doing that in front of... well, everyone,” Harry says, looking a bit dazed, as though the reality of what he’d done is only now striking him.

“Are you?” Ginny teases, stepping closer. His eyes won’t leave her face. “Not really.”

“Good,” she whispers, because she’s never been less sorry for anything, and then she reaches up and kisses him again for good measure. It’s slower this time, softer, sweeter, and she’s a balloon that might float away or burst when his arms lift up to clutch her against him.

This is really happening. It’s nearly surreal. She hadn’t let herself truly believe this was possible, despite her inkling borne from stares and jokes and jumps, and now he’s kissed her in front of the whole bloody house and admitted it wasn’t some fluke or mistake, and he’s holding her against him like he doesn’t want to let go.

He pulls back, looking as overwhelmed as she feels. His eyes are soft as he looks down at her. “Are... do you...” he struggles, and Ginny furrows her eyebrows.

And then, the thought strikes her: He doesn’t know. He’s wondering how she feels. The role reversal is so stark as to be comical, and she stifles an incredulous laugh.

It’s been years of skipping hearts and fluttering stomachs and stupid daydreams that deepened into something unwieldy, inside jokes and wordless understanding and a deep admiration for everything he is. All of that seems impossible to distill or express, so she settles for, “I’ve wanted you to do that for so long.”

The tension in his brow releases, and without warning he’s kissing her again, desperate, hungry, and Ginny reckons she hasn’t been alone in this silent longing.

She thinks that’s all she’s going to get out of him - he’s always said more with actions than words, after all. But then he pulls back, his gaze heated, and he says roughly, “I really fucking fancy you.”

She’s quite done for, after that.

April 11: New

Have a @hinnymicrofic, day 11 for my 29th birthday <3

He’s waiting for her outside of Defense Against the Dark Arts, leaning casually against the craggy stone wall opposite the door, hair disheveled. 

He’s so fit, Ginny thinks, and then relishes in the realization that this isn’t a thought she has to quash anymore, it isn’t something she has to feel guilty for or hide. She can think it all she damn wants.

And, even better, she can act on it now.

He spots her in the crowd, and she extricates herself from her classmates, crossing the hall boldly and reaching up to kiss him as soon as she’s within distance. 

It occurs to her in the split second before her lips touch his that this is still all new, perhaps Harry doesn’t want to do this in public despite the way they’d got together, perhaps he’s more private, but then his hand is firm on her waist and his lips are soft on hers and the worry floats away. 

The kiss is quick, nothing scandalous, and yet Ginny’s heart flutters like Pigwidgeon’s wings all the same. 

“How was class?” he asks, hand still lingering on her waist, a smile painting his lips.

“It was fine. Snape is thrilled for us, by the way,” Ginny jokes. “I’d check the owl post for a congratulations card.”

“Does he know?” Harry scowls over Ginny’s shoulder in the general direction of Snape’s classroom. “About us, I mean?”

Ginny chuckles and pulls Harry away from the door by the hand, feeling silly for how happy it makes her to think there’s an ‘us’ to know about. “It’s not exactly a secret,” she points out, heading in the direction of lunch. “You walked me here.”

“Still,” Harry persists. “It’s not as though he’s monitoring who walks you to lessons.”

“Yes, but,” Ginny says helplessly, gesturing around to the various students gawking and gaping at their entwined hands. “We’re the topic of a lot of gossip, I think. People were talking about it in class, anyway, he told them off for it.”

Harry glances around with an air of some surprise. Ginny wonders if he truly hadn’t noticed it, or whether he’d grown so used to staring it hadn’t occurred to him that it was for a different reason, this time. “Oh. Right.” He pauses, and then adds in a warning voice, “Then you should watch out. Snape hates anything that makes me happy on principle. He’ll be nasty to you.”

“I will.” She lets this sink in for a few steps, then shoots him a sly glance. “So, I make you happy then, do I?”

Harry eyes snap down to look at her, cheeks slightly red. Ginny wonders for a moment whether he’ll deny it, but he doesn’t. Instead, he says, “Yeah,” in a tone that suggests this should have been obvious. 

Ginny’s grin broadens, a happy little fire burning cozily in the realm of her heart. She squeezes his hand, me too. “I can handle Snape. Besides, it’ll all die down. It’s only because it’s new, they’ll all be bored by tomorrow.”

Harry shrugs, seemingly unconcerned. He squeezes her hand back, and Ginny resents that Ron is waiting to meet them at lunch. She’d quite like a detour down an empty corridor. She reckons Harry would, too.

It’s new, Ginny thinks. That must be why it feels this way when it never had with Michael or Dean, like every touch is electric, every moment precious, like her heart might burst and her smile won’t fade.

It’s only because it’s new, she pretends. It’ll die down.

these are the options for each album that received the most votes! though some albums got a lot less votes than others, i tried my best to reblog as much as i could and spread it around for a variety of opinions - thank you to all who took part! Links to each individual album poll below:

Debut - 1,121 Votes | Fearless TV - 359 Votes | Speak Now - 231 Votes Red TV - 740 Votes | 1989 - 288 Votes | Reputation - 801 Votes Lover - 709 Votes | Folklore - 790 Votes | Evermore - 1,910 Votes Midnights - 707 Votes

kind of curious what uniformed schools are like in other places.

(also maybe say what their fashion is usually like?? uniforms here are OBSESSED with stripes and plaid.)

and if you'd add cream cheese or other spread, put it in the tags :D

poll go!!

People who caught it put in the tags what year it was and how bad it was and if you had any side effects

Pls reblog if u vote :)

First Dance For @hinnymicrofic Prompt 6: Dance (about 110 words)

“Do you know how to dance?” Mrs Weasley asked in the kitchen as Harry helped her with the dishes. 

“Dance?” he asked warily. 

“Yeah, Harry. You don’t think Ginny doesn’t expect to have a first dance on her wedding?” George spoke. 

Harry opened his mouth to reply when his fiancée walked in. 

“Bad news,” George told her. “You’ll have to cancel the wedding.” 

Ginny chuckled, mildly confused. “And why is that?” 

“Harrykins is not ready to dance in a room full of people looking at him,” he said. 

Harry frowned at George but did not comment. 

Ginny walked up to him and hugged him from the back. “Aw, that’s okay, Harry. I’ll lead.”

This is soooo fluffy @ginnyw-potter!!! Poor Harry 😆 Also - kudos to you for keeping it so short! ❤

“My body, my choice” only makes sense when someone else’s life isn’t at stake.

Fun fact: If my younger sister was in a car accident and desperately needed a blood transfusion to live, and I was the only person on Earth who could donate blood to save her, and even though donating blood is a relatively easy, safe, and quick procedure no one can force me to give blood. Yes, even to save the life of a fully grown person, it would be ILLEGAL to FORCE me to donate blood if I didn’t want to.

See, we have this concept called “bodily autonomy.” It’s this….cultural notion that a person’s control over their own body is above all important and must not be infringed upon. 

Like, we can’t even take LIFE SAVING organs from CORPSES unless the person whose corpse it is gave consent before their death. Even corpses get bodily autonomy. 

To tell people that they MUST sacrifice their bodily autonomy for 9 months against their will in an incredibly expensive, invasive, difficult process to save what YOU view as another human life (a debatable claim in the early stages of pregnancy when the VAST majority of abortions are performed) is desperately unethical. You can’t even ask people to sacrifice bodily autonomy to give up organs they aren’t using anymore after they have died. 

You’re asking people who can become pregnant to accept less bodily autonomy than we grant to dead bodies. 

reblogging for commentary 

But, assuming the mother wasn’t raped, the choice to HAVE a baby and risk sacrificing their “bodily autonomy” is a choice that the mother made. YOu don’t have to have sex with someone. Cases of rape aside, it isn’t ethical to say abortion is justified. The unborn baby has rights, too. 

First point: Bodily autonomy can be preserved, even if another life is dependent on it. See again the example about the blood donation. 

And here’s another point: When you say that “rape is the exception” you betray something FUNDAMENTALLY BROKEN about your own argument.

Because a fetus produced from sexual assault is biologically NO DIFFERENT than a fetus produced from consensual sex. No difference at all.

If one is alive, so is the other. If one is a person, so is the other. If one has a soul, then so does the other. If one is a little blessing that happened for a reason and must be protected, then so is the other. 

When you say that “Rape is the exception” what you betray is this: It isn’t about a life. This isn’t about the little soul sitting inside some person’s womb, because if it was you wouldn’t care about HOW it got there, only that it is a little life that needs protecting.

When you say “rape is the exception” what you say is this: You are treating pregnancy as a punishment. You are PUNISHING people who have had CONSENSUAL SEX but don’t want to go through a pregnancy. People who DARED to have consensual sex without the goal of procreation in mind, and this is their “consequence.“ 

And that is gross.