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cereusblue: unnameablethings: dragonsateyourtoast: redporkpadthai: dragonsateyourtoast: otherwindow: otherwindow: This is how the golden age of piracy ended. The first mermaid to get tattoos :) “we didn’t know any better,” the crewman says, and swallows, presenting the chest to the captain. “what do we do now?” “kill it,” the captain says, but the ice is melting in his eyes. “we can’t,” the first mate says desperately, praying she won’t have to fight her captain on this. “we can’t. we - i won’t. we won’t.” “i know.” x “daddy,” she says, floating in a tub of seawater in the hold, “daddy, la-la, la-la-la.” her voice rings like bells. her accent is strange; her mouth isn’t made for human words. it mesmerises even the hardiest amongst them and she wasn’t even trying. the crew has taken to diving for shellfish near the shorelines for her; she loves them, splitting the shells apart with strength seen in no human toddler, slurping down the slimy molluscs inside and laughing, all plump brown cheeks and needle-sharp teeth. she sometimes splashes them for fun with her smooth, rubbery brown tail. even when they get soaked they laugh. they love her. “daddy,” she calls again, and he can hear the worry in her voice. the storm rocking the ship is harsh and uncaring, and if they go down, she would be the only survivor. “don’t worry,” he says, and goes over, sitting next to the tub. the first mate, leaning against the wall, pretends not to notice as he quietly begins to sing. x “father,” she says, one day, as she leans on the edge of the dock and the captain sits next to her, “why am I here?” “your mother abandoned you,” he says, as he always has. “we found you adrift, and couldn’t bear to leave you there.” she picks at the salt-soaked boards, uncertain. her hair is pulled back in a fluffy black puff, the white linen holding it slipping almost over one of her dark eyes. one of her first tattoos, a many-limbed kraken, curls over her right shoulder and down her arm, delicate tendrils wrapped around her calloused fingertips. “alright,” she says. x “why am I really here?” she asks the first mate, watching the sun set over the water in streaks of liquid metal that pooled in the troughs of the waves and glittered on the seafoam. “we didn’t know any better,” the first mate says, staring into the water. “we didn’t know- we didn’t know anything. we didn’t understand why she fought so viciously to guard her treasure. we could not know she protected something a thousand times more precious than the purest gold.” she wants to be furious, but she can’t. she already knew the answer, from reading the guilt in her father’s eyes and the empty space in her own history. and she can’t hate her family. “it’s alright,” she says. “i do have a family, anyways. i don’t think i would have liked my other life near as much.” x her kraken grows, spreading its tendrils over her torso and arms. she grows too, too large to come on board the ship without being hauled up in a boat from the water. she sings when the storms come and swims before the ship to guide it to safety. she fights off more than one beast of the seas, and gathers a set of scars across her back that she bears with pride. “i don’t mind,” she says, when the captain fusses over her, “now i match all of you.” the first time their ship is threatened, really threatened, is by another fleet. a friend turned enemy of the first mate. “we shouldn’t fight him,” she says, peering through the spyglass. “why not?” the mermaid asks. “he’ll win,” the first mate says. the mermaid tips her head sideways. Her eyes, dark as the deep waters, gleam in the noon light. “are you sure?” she asks. x the enemy fleet surrenders after the flagship is sunk in the night, the anchor ripped off the ship and the planks torn off the hull. the surviving crew, wild-eyed and delirious, whimper and say a sea serpent came from the water and attacked them, say it was longer than the boat and crushed it in its coils. the first mate hears this and has to hide her laughter. the captain apologizes to his daughter for doubting her. “don’t worry,” she says, with a bright laugh, “it was fun.” x the second time, they are pushed by a storm into a royal fleet. they can’t possibly fight them, and they don’t have the time to escape. “let me up,” the mermaid urges, surfacing starboard and shouting to the crew. “bring me up, quickly, quickly.” they lower the boat and she piles her sinous form into it, and uses her claws to help the crew pull her up. once on the deck she flops out of the boat and makes her way over to the bow. the crew tries to help but she’s so heavy they can barely lift parts of her. she crawls up out in front of the rail and wraps her long webbed tail around the prow. the figurehead has served them well so far but they need more right now. she wraps herself around the figurehead and raises her body up into the wind takes a breath of the stinging salt air and sings. the storm carries her voice on its front to the royal navy. they are enchanted, so stunned by her song that they drop the rigging ropes and let the tillers drift. the pirates sail through the center of the fleet, trailing the storm behind them, and by the time the fleet has managed to regain its senses they are buried in wind and rain and the pirates are gone. x she declines guns. instead she carries a harpoon and its launcher, and uses them to board enemy ships, hauling her massive form out of the water to coil on the deck and dispatch enemies with ruthless efficiency. her family is feared across all the sea. x “you know we are dying,” the captain says, looking down at her. she floats next to the ship, so massive she could hold it in her arms. her eyes are wise. “i know,” she says, “i can feel it coming.” the first mate stands next to the captain. she never had a lover or a child, and neither did he, but to the mermaid they are her parents. she will always love her daughter. the tattoos are graven in dark swirls across the mermaid’s deep brown skin and the flesh of her tail, even spiraling onto the spiked webbing on her spine and face. her hair is still tied back, this time with a sail that could not be patched one last time. “we love you,” the first mate says simply, looking down. her own tightly coiled black hair falls in to her face; she shakes the locs out of the way and smiles through her tears. the captain pretends he isnt crying either. “i love you too,” the mermaid says, and reached up to pull the ship down just a bit, just to hold them one last time. “guard the ship,” the captain says. “you always have but you know they’re lost without you.” “without you,” the mermaid corrects, with a shrug that makes waves. “what will we do?” “i don’t know,” the captain says. “but you’ll help them, won’t you?” “of course i will,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “i will always protect my family.” x the captain and the first mate are gone. the ship has a new captain, young and fearless - of the things she can afford to disregard. she fears and loves the ocean, as all captains do. she does not fear the royal fleet. and she does not fear the mermaid. “you know, i heard stories about you when i was a little girl,” she says, trailing her fingers in the water next to the dock. the mermaid stares at her with one eye the size of a dinner table. “is that so?” she hums, smirking with teeth sharper than the swords of the entire navy. “they said you could sink an entire fleet and that you had skin tougher than dragon scales,” the new captain says, grinning right back at the monster who could eat her without a moment’s hesitation. “i always thought they were telling tall tales.” “and now?” “they were right,” the new captain says. “how did they ever befriend you?” the mermaid smiles, fully this time, her dark eyes gleaming under the white linen sail. “they didn’t know any better.” She protects her family. Hi everybody! Guess what’s being posted on AO3 now at the following link! https://archiveofourown.org/works/22498384/chapters/53760817 That’s right! Here you go. I’ll be uploading it in some chunks, because I want to make sure I have everything I wanted edited cleanly finished, but follow the story there! HEY GUYS GUESS WHATS BACK ON THE DASHBOARD AND BETTER THAN EVER : cereusblue: unnameablethings: dragonsateyourtoast: redporkpadthai: dragonsateyourtoast: otherwindow: otherwindow: This is how the golden age of piracy ended. The first mermaid to get tattoos :) “we didn’t know any better,” the crewman says, and swallows, presenting the chest to the captain. “what do we do now?” “kill it,” the captain says, but the ice is melting in his eyes. “we can’t,” the first mate says desperately, praying she won’t have to fight her captain on this. “we can’t. we - i won’t. we won’t.” “i know.” x “daddy,” she says, floating in a tub of seawater in the hold, “daddy, la-la, la-la-la.” her voice rings like bells. her accent is strange; her mouth isn’t made for human words. it mesmerises even the hardiest amongst them and she wasn’t even trying. the crew has taken to diving for shellfish near the shorelines for her; she loves them, splitting the shells apart with strength seen in no human toddler, slurping down the slimy molluscs inside and laughing, all plump brown cheeks and needle-sharp teeth. she sometimes splashes them for fun with her smooth, rubbery brown tail. even when they get soaked they laugh. they love her. “daddy,” she calls again, and he can hear the worry in her voice. the storm rocking the ship is harsh and uncaring, and if they go down, she would be the only survivor. “don’t worry,” he says, and goes over, sitting next to the tub. the first mate, leaning against the wall, pretends not to notice as he quietly begins to sing. x “father,” she says, one day, as she leans on the edge of the dock and the captain sits next to her, “why am I here?” “your mother abandoned you,” he says, as he always has. “we found you adrift, and couldn’t bear to leave you there.” she picks at the salt-soaked boards, uncertain. her hair is pulled back in a fluffy black puff, the white linen holding it slipping almost over one of her dark eyes. one of her first tattoos, a many-limbed kraken, curls over her right shoulder and down her arm, delicate tendrils wrapped around her calloused fingertips. “alright,” she says. x “why am I really here?” she asks the first mate, watching the sun set over the water in streaks of liquid metal that pooled in the troughs of the waves and glittered on the seafoam. “we didn’t know any better,” the first mate says, staring into the water. “we didn’t know- we didn’t know anything. we didn’t understand why she fought so viciously to guard her treasure. we could not know she protected something a thousand times more precious than the purest gold.” she wants to be furious, but she can’t. she already knew the answer, from reading the guilt in her father’s eyes and the empty space in her own history. and she can’t hate her family. “it’s alright,” she says. “i do have a family, anyways. i don’t think i would have liked my other life near as much.” x her kraken grows, spreading its tendrils over her torso and arms. she grows too, too large to come on board the ship without being hauled up in a boat from the water. she sings when the storms come and swims before the ship to guide it to safety. she fights off more than one beast of the seas, and gathers a set of scars across her back that she bears with pride. “i don’t mind,” she says, when the captain fusses over her, “now i match all of you.” the first time their ship is threatened, really threatened, is by another fleet. a friend turned enemy of the first mate. “we shouldn’t fight him,” she says, peering through the spyglass. “why not?” the mermaid asks. “he’ll win,” the first mate says. the mermaid tips her head sideways. Her eyes, dark as the deep waters, gleam in the noon light. “are you sure?” she asks. x the enemy fleet surrenders after the flagship is sunk in the night, the anchor ripped off the ship and the planks torn off the hull. the surviving crew, wild-eyed and delirious, whimper and say a sea serpent came from the water and attacked them, say it was longer than the boat and crushed it in its coils. the first mate hears this and has to hide her laughter. the captain apologizes to his daughter for doubting her. “don’t worry,” she says, with a bright laugh, “it was fun.” x the second time, they are pushed by a storm into a royal fleet. they can’t possibly fight them, and they don’t have the time to escape. “let me up,” the mermaid urges, surfacing starboard and shouting to the crew. “bring me up, quickly, quickly.” they lower the boat and she piles her sinous form into it, and uses her claws to help the crew pull her up. once on the deck she flops out of the boat and makes her way over to the bow. the crew tries to help but she’s so heavy they can barely lift parts of her. she crawls up out in front of the rail and wraps her long webbed tail around the prow. the figurehead has served them well so far but they need more right now. she wraps herself around the figurehead and raises her body up into the wind takes a breath of the stinging salt air and sings. the storm carries her voice on its front to the royal navy. they are enchanted, so stunned by her song that they drop the rigging ropes and let the tillers drift. the pirates sail through the center of the fleet, trailing the storm behind them, and by the time the fleet has managed to regain its senses they are buried in wind and rain and the pirates are gone. x she declines guns. instead she carries a harpoon and its launcher, and uses them to board enemy ships, hauling her massive form out of the water to coil on the deck and dispatch enemies with ruthless efficiency. her family is feared across all the sea. x “you know we are dying,” the captain says, looking down at her. she floats next to the ship, so massive she could hold it in her arms. her eyes are wise. “i know,” she says, “i can feel it coming.” the first mate stands next to the captain. she never had a lover or a child, and neither did he, but to the mermaid they are her parents. she will always love her daughter. the tattoos are graven in dark swirls across the mermaid’s deep brown skin and the flesh of her tail, even spiraling onto the spiked webbing on her spine and face. her hair is still tied back, this time with a sail that could not be patched one last time. “we love you,” the first mate says simply, looking down. her own tightly coiled black hair falls in to her face; she shakes the locs out of the way and smiles through her tears. the captain pretends he isnt crying either. “i love you too,” the mermaid says, and reached up to pull the ship down just a bit, just to hold them one last time. “guard the ship,” the captain says. “you always have but you know they’re lost without you.” “without you,” the mermaid corrects, with a shrug that makes waves. “what will we do?” “i don’t know,” the captain says. “but you’ll help them, won’t you?” “of course i will,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “i will always protect my family.” x the captain and the first mate are gone. the ship has a new captain, young and fearless - of the things she can afford to disregard. she fears and loves the ocean, as all captains do. she does not fear the royal fleet. and she does not fear the mermaid. “you know, i heard stories about you when i was a little girl,” she says, trailing her fingers in the water next to the dock. the mermaid stares at her with one eye the size of a dinner table. “is that so?” she hums, smirking with teeth sharper than the swords of the entire navy. “they said you could sink an entire fleet and that you had skin tougher than dragon scales,” the new captain says, grinning right back at the monster who could eat her without a moment’s hesitation. “i always thought they were telling tall tales.” “and now?” “they were right,” the new captain says. “how did they ever befriend you?” the mermaid smiles, fully this time, her dark eyes gleaming under the white linen sail. “they didn’t know any better.” She protects her family. Hi everybody! Guess what’s being posted on AO3 now at the following link! https://archiveofourown.org/works/22498384/chapters/53760817 That’s right! Here you go. I’ll be uploading it in some chunks, because I want to make sure I have everything I wanted edited cleanly finished, but follow the story there! HEY GUYS GUESS WHATS BACK ON THE DASHBOARD AND BETTER THAN EVER

cereusblue: unnameablethings: dragonsateyourtoast: redporkpadthai: dragonsateyourtoast: otherwindow: otherwindow: This is how the g...

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sonneillonv: violent-cisbian: lesbianplayinanimalcrossing: violent-cisbian: thevirginmaryswomb: radcybergoth: blackswallowtailbutterfly: ryderdai: the-pump-king: morphimus: charlesoberonn: charlesoberonn: queen-of-dirt: charlesoberonn: notaboyscout: charlesoberonn: memory-thought: charlesoberonn: updogonline: It took me 3 watches to realize the door is cardboard and this man is not just freakishly strong. I assure you this is a standard interior door, usually only exterior doors are solid. You can see the inside of the cardboard though. This isn’t a real door, it’s a prop from a movie or TV set. it has a paper honeycomb for rigidity, and that’s how interior doors are made for modern construction in the USA. y'all have never kicked a hole in your bedroom door in a flurry of teenage hormonal rage and it shows If I kicked my bedroom door I’d more likely break my foot than the door. I always thought people punching through doors or shoving people through doors was just from the movies. Doors in my country are generally solid planks of wood, a polymer of sorts, or metal. American homes are made extremely cheaply and aren’t built to last. Steam from hot showers seeps into wall which are not treated to handle moisture, and mold grows in the walls. Almost every wall or floor is made out of plywood. Flimsy roofing that can withstand a run of the mill heavy storm, but not much more than that. Weak foundations that wouldn’t hold up at all if it weren’t for how light and plywood-y the overall house is. Not every American house is this shitty in all of these ways, but the vast majority of them are, and almost all of them have at least one of these problems. Even rich people’s homes. Read this article. https://dengarden.com/misc/American-Houses-and-Bad-Quality Then watch this video. Are we just ignoring this original post was about the OP looking for Elf Pussy or are we just totally past that? It’s already been answered that there is no elf pussy here, so why dwell? 🤷🏾‍♂️ I’m in Canada. I haven’t noticed any door be quite that flimsy. You could kick a hole in some of them (the hollow ones) but not right through, and not without hurting yourself. It also depends on how old your house is. My parents house is from the 80s and all the doors are solid wood Yeah my parents were the first people to live in our house so it would have been built in the same decade. I remember my mom saying that she liked how the doors were solid wood, and little me was confused bc I thought all doors were made of wood do y'all,,,, not have stone walls,,,,? No we don’t, usually just plywood or plasterboard with wooden frames for support. If it is stone it’s usually just a “feature wall” that is made of the aforementioned materials but with a thin layer of stone glued on. Basically this but just with paint over the plasterboard, American houses (or at least new ones) are built to look nice but ware easily. why would anyone build something like that? didn’t the pig with the wood house get killed or something? don’t y'all learn from your childhood? I live in AZ and one of my exterior doors is Styrofoam. Literally Styrofoam with a flexible plastic plate over it. You could kick right through it.  Or, if you felt like sneaking in and murdering me, cut through it with a kitchen knife.   Needless to say I’m having it replaced. -laughs in solid wooden door-: sonneillonv: violent-cisbian: lesbianplayinanimalcrossing: violent-cisbian: thevirginmaryswomb: radcybergoth: blackswallowtailbutterfly: ryderdai: the-pump-king: morphimus: charlesoberonn: charlesoberonn: queen-of-dirt: charlesoberonn: notaboyscout: charlesoberonn: memory-thought: charlesoberonn: updogonline: It took me 3 watches to realize the door is cardboard and this man is not just freakishly strong. I assure you this is a standard interior door, usually only exterior doors are solid. You can see the inside of the cardboard though. This isn’t a real door, it’s a prop from a movie or TV set. it has a paper honeycomb for rigidity, and that’s how interior doors are made for modern construction in the USA. y'all have never kicked a hole in your bedroom door in a flurry of teenage hormonal rage and it shows If I kicked my bedroom door I’d more likely break my foot than the door. I always thought people punching through doors or shoving people through doors was just from the movies. Doors in my country are generally solid planks of wood, a polymer of sorts, or metal. American homes are made extremely cheaply and aren’t built to last. Steam from hot showers seeps into wall which are not treated to handle moisture, and mold grows in the walls. Almost every wall or floor is made out of plywood. Flimsy roofing that can withstand a run of the mill heavy storm, but not much more than that. Weak foundations that wouldn’t hold up at all if it weren’t for how light and plywood-y the overall house is. Not every American house is this shitty in all of these ways, but the vast majority of them are, and almost all of them have at least one of these problems. Even rich people’s homes. Read this article. https://dengarden.com/misc/American-Houses-and-Bad-Quality Then watch this video. Are we just ignoring this original post was about the OP looking for Elf Pussy or are we just totally past that? It’s already been answered that there is no elf pussy here, so why dwell? 🤷🏾‍♂️ I’m in Canada. I haven’t noticed any door be quite that flimsy. You could kick a hole in some of them (the hollow ones) but not right through, and not without hurting yourself. It also depends on how old your house is. My parents house is from the 80s and all the doors are solid wood Yeah my parents were the first people to live in our house so it would have been built in the same decade. I remember my mom saying that she liked how the doors were solid wood, and little me was confused bc I thought all doors were made of wood do y'all,,,, not have stone walls,,,,? No we don’t, usually just plywood or plasterboard with wooden frames for support. If it is stone it’s usually just a “feature wall” that is made of the aforementioned materials but with a thin layer of stone glued on. Basically this but just with paint over the plasterboard, American houses (or at least new ones) are built to look nice but ware easily. why would anyone build something like that? didn’t the pig with the wood house get killed or something? don’t y'all learn from your childhood? I live in AZ and one of my exterior doors is Styrofoam. Literally Styrofoam with a flexible plastic plate over it. You could kick right through it.  Or, if you felt like sneaking in and murdering me, cut through it with a kitchen knife.   Needless to say I’m having it replaced. -laughs in solid wooden door-
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castielific: wolfinthethorns: Honestly, in my work as a therapist, I’m seeing this A Lot, and tbh I still don’t have a satisfactory approach to it. A heavy dose of Existentialist “create your own Purpose” tempered with “when the plane’s going down, put your own oxygen mask on first”, but… yeah, there is no ethical way to work on individual emotional distress without acknowledging the systemic socioeconomic, geopolitical fuckery going on at the moment, and the sheer grief that comes with it. I’m a guidance counselor/psychologist for teenagers and it’s getting really hard to motivate young people to work for a future they don’t believe in.   They look at ther future and see global warming, wwIII, unemployement, political unstability, poison in everything  they eat, the earth and animals dying all around them.  I saw this video where someone was asking french teens in the 50s how they imagine the future would be. The war hadn’t been over for long and yet it was all positive with like peace and flying cars and such. Then they went and ask the same questions to nowadays teens and hell that was depressing. Some still had hope, but it was just that “well I hope I’ll have a nice house and maybe some kid” but there was such a hesitancy to it, like they didn’t dare to hope too much.  People mock Greta Thunberg but what they don’t get is that when she said “you stole my dreams”, it was the truth.  Young people don’t get to dream like they used to. They don’t dream anymore, they grief all that won’t be anymore and that’s just so fucking sad.  : castielific: wolfinthethorns: Honestly, in my work as a therapist, I’m seeing this A Lot, and tbh I still don’t have a satisfactory approach to it. A heavy dose of Existentialist “create your own Purpose” tempered with “when the plane’s going down, put your own oxygen mask on first”, but… yeah, there is no ethical way to work on individual emotional distress without acknowledging the systemic socioeconomic, geopolitical fuckery going on at the moment, and the sheer grief that comes with it. I’m a guidance counselor/psychologist for teenagers and it’s getting really hard to motivate young people to work for a future they don’t believe in.   They look at ther future and see global warming, wwIII, unemployement, political unstability, poison in everything  they eat, the earth and animals dying all around them.  I saw this video where someone was asking french teens in the 50s how they imagine the future would be. The war hadn’t been over for long and yet it was all positive with like peace and flying cars and such. Then they went and ask the same questions to nowadays teens and hell that was depressing. Some still had hope, but it was just that “well I hope I’ll have a nice house and maybe some kid” but there was such a hesitancy to it, like they didn’t dare to hope too much.  People mock Greta Thunberg but what they don’t get is that when she said “you stole my dreams”, it was the truth.  Young people don’t get to dream like they used to. They don’t dream anymore, they grief all that won’t be anymore and that’s just so fucking sad. 
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castielific: wolfinthethorns: Honestly, in my work as a therapist, I’m seeing this A Lot, and tbh I still don’t have a satisfactory approach to it. A heavy dose of Existentialist “create your own Purpose” tempered with “when the plane’s going down, put your own oxygen mask on first”, but… yeah, there is no ethical way to work on individual emotional distress without acknowledging the systemic socioeconomic, geopolitical fuckery going on at the moment, and the sheer grief that comes with it. I’m a guidance counselor/psychologist for teenagers and it’s getting really hard to motivate young people to work for a future they don’t believe in.   They look at ther future and see global warming, wwIII, unemployement, political unstability, poison in everything  they eat, the earth and animals dying all around them.  I saw this video where someone was asking french teens in the 50s how they imagine the future would be. The war hadn’t been over for long and yet it was all positive with like peace and flying cars and such. Then they went and ask the same questions to nowadays teens and hell that was depressing. Some still had hope, but it was just that “well I hope I’ll have a nice house and maybe some kid” but there was such a hesitancy to it, like they didn’t dare to hope too much.  People mock Greta Thunberg but what they don’t get is that when she said “you stole my dreams”, it was the truth.  Young people don’t get to dream like they used to. They don’t dream anymore, they grief all that won’t be anymore and that’s just so fucking sad.  : spooky mistress misandry @hannahtraining Ain't that the fucking truth Me: "l feel like my life is pointless Therapist: "Why?" Me: "lmpending fascism and climate change mean I probably won't live to see 60,'" Therapist: "Are you sure thats rational? Me: *looks at camera like Jim on The Office* kate wagner@mcmansionhell this point in history sure is a really wild time to be trying to manage mental illness Show this thread 5:28 PM 14 Oct 18 castielific: wolfinthethorns: Honestly, in my work as a therapist, I’m seeing this A Lot, and tbh I still don’t have a satisfactory approach to it. A heavy dose of Existentialist “create your own Purpose” tempered with “when the plane’s going down, put your own oxygen mask on first”, but… yeah, there is no ethical way to work on individual emotional distress without acknowledging the systemic socioeconomic, geopolitical fuckery going on at the moment, and the sheer grief that comes with it. I’m a guidance counselor/psychologist for teenagers and it’s getting really hard to motivate young people to work for a future they don’t believe in.   They look at ther future and see global warming, wwIII, unemployement, political unstability, poison in everything  they eat, the earth and animals dying all around them.  I saw this video where someone was asking french teens in the 50s how they imagine the future would be. The war hadn’t been over for long and yet it was all positive with like peace and flying cars and such. Then they went and ask the same questions to nowadays teens and hell that was depressing. Some still had hope, but it was just that “well I hope I’ll have a nice house and maybe some kid” but there was such a hesitancy to it, like they didn’t dare to hope too much.  People mock Greta Thunberg but what they don’t get is that when she said “you stole my dreams”, it was the truth.  Young people don’t get to dream like they used to. They don’t dream anymore, they grief all that won’t be anymore and that’s just so fucking sad. 
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how programming languages got their names: y @TheStrangeRoots How programming languages got their names Bash Clojure The creator wanted to include the letter 'c' (C#), 'I (Lisp) and 'j' (Java) and liked that it was a pun on 'closure! The word 'closure, the act of closing, comes from the Latin 'clausūra' stemming from' clauděre' which means 'to shut or close! Bash is an acronym for Bourne-again Shell, a pun on the Bourne Shell - named after creator Stephen Bourne - being "born again". 'Bash' is also a verb meaning 'to strike with a heavy blow', possibly from the Danish 'baske' meaning 'to beat, strike! Quite simply C got its name because it was preceded by a programming language called B.C spawned its own children including C++ and C#.It is the third letter in the English alphabet and was originally identical to the Greek letter 'Gamma', Java Go Elixir The name Java was the result of a highly- caffeinated brainstorming session. Java, or 'Jawa' in Indonesian, is the name of a large island in Indonesia that produces strong, dark and sweet coffee. It has been a slang term for coffee in the United States since the 1800s. One of the Google developers said the name Go, sometime referred to as Golang, was chosen because it was 'short and easy to type' The word 'go, meaning 'to travel or go somewhere' stems from the Old High German 'gan' (to go). The word 'elixir', meaning a potion or essence that prolongs life or preserves something, stems from the Arabic 'al-ikst' via the late Greek 'xerion', a powder for drying wounds. Appeared in Middle English from the 14th century. Java JavaScript Kotlin Perl Originally named Mocha, a type of fine quality coffee, it was later renamed JavaScript, combining Java, US slang for coffee, + 'Script, 'something that is written' from the Latin 'scriptum, 'a set of written words or writing. Inspired by Java, it was named after Kotlin Island in Russia. Originally called Kettusaari by the Finns ('fox island') and Ketlingen by the Swedes, (maybe stemming from 'kettel' meaning 'cauldron'). After Russia won control of the island in 1703 it was Initially named Pearl, the alternative spelling was adopted as the name was already taken. It comes from the Middle French 'perle 'meaning 'bead' or 'something valuable' and the Latin 'perna' meaning 'leg, also a mollusc shaped like a leg of mutton. JS renamed 'Kotling' then 'Kotlin. PHP Python Ris named partly after the first names of the first two R authors (Ross Ihaka and Robert Gentleman) and partly as a play on the name of S, itss parent langauge. It is the 18th letter in the alphabet and derives from the Greek letter 'Rho' php Originally known as Personal Home Page Construction Kit, this was later shortened to just PHP (an acronym for Personal Home Page). It is now accepted as the initials for PHP: Hypertext Preprocessor. Creator Guido van Rossum named Python after TV comedy Monty Python's Flying Circus. The word 'python' comes from the ancient Greek 'Puthón, the name of a huge serpent killed by the god Apollo. Later adopted as a generic term for non- poisonous snakes that constrict their prey. Ruby Scala Rust Influenced by Perl, the developer chose a colleague's birthstone which followed it in the monthly sequence (June is Pearl, Ruby is July). Ruby comes from the Old French 'rubi', a 'reddish precious stone', and the Latin 'rubeus, 'red'. Rust's name comes from a fungus that is robust, distributed, and parallel. It is also a substring of robust. Rust, also the reddish coating formed on oxidized metal, stems from the German 'rost' and possibly the Indo-European base of 'red. Scala is a combination of the first letters of 'scalable' and 'language! It is also the Italian word for 'stairway', as it helps users to ascend to a better language. The logo is also an abstraction of a staircase or steps. SQL Swift TypeScript SQL Originating from the shortcomings of JavaScript, hence the similarility of the name. Its name combines 'Type', meaning a kind or class (from the Greek 'tuptein' 'to strike'), with 'Script, 'something that is written' from the Latin 'scriptum'. First called "Structured English Query Language" (SEQUEL), pronounced "sequel", it was a pun that it was the sequel to QUEL. It was later shortened to SQL. The word 'sequel' stems from the Latin 'sequela' from 'sequr' meaning 'to follow. The word 'swift' means 'moving with great speed or velocity' and can be traced back to the prehistoric 'swipt' meaning to 'move in a sweeping manner'. The swallow-like bird became known as a swift from the 17th century and is used as the language's logo. TS how programming languages got their names

how programming languages got their names

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