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the-strongest-decoy: arcticfoxbear: by-grace-of-god: prolifeproliberty: candiikismet: gingersofficial: Life path unlocked. He’s a scientist now. If your dad is telling you in great detail about something he’s passionate about, you’re going to be hooked even if you don’t understand a word. He tells us more… So now I have to deliver a quiet lecture on the Standard Model every night. He loves lists of things, like all the streets home from daycare, or the train stations between here and Central, so he loves hearing the list of leptons and quarks and bosons. Anyway, I made this poster for him, based on the CPEP ones we used to have at uni .  Alas I ran out of room for antimatter, colour charge and confinement, but hey, maybe there can be a second poster later. It’s funny though — on the surface of it, it seems like it must be far too advanced for a 3yo. But when you think about it, quarks and leptons are no more or less real to him than, say, dinosaurs or planets, and he loves those too. And he recognises the letters on the particles. I am absolutely overwhelmed by the kind and sweet things people are saying about this, thanks everyone ❤️ Addendum: he has really grasped onto the “everything is made of atoms” part of this, so tonight he listed just about every object he could think of and asked if it was made of atoms. “And my bed?”Yes, and your bed.“And that wall?”Yep.“And the armchair?”Yes, the armchair too.……“And… the book case?”Y— “And my home?”Yep, the whole apartment block.“And your home? Oh wait, your home is my home.”Haha, it is.……“But is it made of atoms?”Yep.“And… [best friend]’s home?”Yes, it is. And [other friend]’s home, and [third friend]’s home. “Is [yet another friend]’s home?” Update from the other night: “Is my… is… [extremely long pause] is my atoms poster made up of atoms?”—Yes! Yes it is. I have never heard such a contemplative silence. I think the next poster will have to be on the philosophy of referential language. Update from this morning: after listing everything in sight (mummy? daddy? fridge? milk? cereal? table? etc.) he asks “is [baby sister] made up of atoms?” yep! *runs over to her on the floor**puts face up real close to hers*“HI! YOU’RE MADE UP OF LOTS OF ATOMS! DID YOU KNOW?” @radioactivepeasant @themagdalenwriting @iusedtohaveanaccount “HI! YOU’RE MADE UP OF LOTS OF ATOMS! DID YOU KNOW?” : the-strongest-decoy: arcticfoxbear: by-grace-of-god: prolifeproliberty: candiikismet: gingersofficial: Life path unlocked. He’s a scientist now. If your dad is telling you in great detail about something he’s passionate about, you’re going to be hooked even if you don’t understand a word. He tells us more… So now I have to deliver a quiet lecture on the Standard Model every night. He loves lists of things, like all the streets home from daycare, or the train stations between here and Central, so he loves hearing the list of leptons and quarks and bosons. Anyway, I made this poster for him, based on the CPEP ones we used to have at uni .  Alas I ran out of room for antimatter, colour charge and confinement, but hey, maybe there can be a second poster later. It’s funny though — on the surface of it, it seems like it must be far too advanced for a 3yo. But when you think about it, quarks and leptons are no more or less real to him than, say, dinosaurs or planets, and he loves those too. And he recognises the letters on the particles. I am absolutely overwhelmed by the kind and sweet things people are saying about this, thanks everyone ❤️ Addendum: he has really grasped onto the “everything is made of atoms” part of this, so tonight he listed just about every object he could think of and asked if it was made of atoms. “And my bed?”Yes, and your bed.“And that wall?”Yep.“And the armchair?”Yes, the armchair too.……“And… the book case?”Y— “And my home?”Yep, the whole apartment block.“And your home? Oh wait, your home is my home.”Haha, it is.……“But is it made of atoms?”Yep.“And… [best friend]’s home?”Yes, it is. And [other friend]’s home, and [third friend]’s home. “Is [yet another friend]’s home?” Update from the other night: “Is my… is… [extremely long pause] is my atoms poster made up of atoms?”—Yes! Yes it is. I have never heard such a contemplative silence. I think the next poster will have to be on the philosophy of referential language. Update from this morning: after listing everything in sight (mummy? daddy? fridge? milk? cereal? table? etc.) he asks “is [baby sister] made up of atoms?” yep! *runs over to her on the floor**puts face up real close to hers*“HI! YOU’RE MADE UP OF LOTS OF ATOMS! DID YOU KNOW?” @radioactivepeasant @themagdalenwriting @iusedtohaveanaccount “HI! YOU’RE MADE UP OF LOTS OF ATOMS! DID YOU KNOW?”

the-strongest-decoy: arcticfoxbear: by-grace-of-god: prolifeproliberty: candiikismet: gingersofficial: Life path unlocked. He’s a...

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rubitrightintomyeyes: theonion: Rock Apparently Factors Into Girlfriend’s Shower Routine SEATTLE—Saying he was confused about the full extent of its purpose as well as its overall benefit, local man Jacob Ferris, 25, nonetheless surmised today that the oblong rock located in girlfriend Sarah Milstein’s shower caddy must somehow factor into her bathing routine, sources confirmed. “I guess at some point while she’s showering, she rubs a rock on her body,” said Ferris, expressing what he claimed was “the only possible conclusion” about the light-gray rock in his girlfriend’s bathroom. “I mean, it looks sort of nice, so she could just have it there for decoration or something. But it’s usually right near all the other soaps and her loofah, so I think it’s probably something she actually uses while under the water.” “I really don’t know how it all works,” Ferris added. “All I know is that in between Sarah getting into the shower and getting out, there’s a rock involved.” Ferris, who said he was unable to determine exactly when in the showering process the rock first comes into play, told reporters he is equally clueless about what part of the body the rock is used on. In addition, Ferris said he occasionally inspects the roughly 3-ounce object when he’s in Milstein’s shower, and told reporters that the rock is nearly always wet and is occasionally moved to slightly different spots within the bathtub, leading him to believe that his girlfriend uses it fairly regularly. He also noted his girlfriend’s bathing time never seems particularly longer than the average person’s considering she has added a rock into the mix. Ferris added that all attempts to incorporate the rock into his own shower routine have ultimately been unsuccessful. “I tried rubbing it on my skin once, and it hurt,” Ferris said, concluding that pouring soap and water directly onto the rock neither made it softer nor easier on his skin. “I could maybe see how it could get some dirt off of your body, but it seems too painful to work. Her skin usually looks nice though, so maybe I’m wrong.” “There is a chance it could be a hair thing,” Ferris continued. “Maybe she rubs the rock in her hair? I don’t know.” Ferris confirmed he has considered numerous reasons for why his girlfriend uses the rock in the shower, including that she has some type of skin condition, that the rock is some sort of weird tradition her family has, or that everyone uses rocks in the shower and he has been out of the loop the entire time. “It could be for cleaning the bathtub,” said Ferris, adding he once suspected the rock was a device for making the bathroom smell nice, but then noticed it had no discernible smell whatsoever. “Like every few weekends she scrubs the tub with this rock? I guess I could see Sarah doing that.” While Ferris said he is mostly certain that the rock was initially purchased at a home goods store of some kind, he was not able to completely rule out the possibility it was just a rock that his girlfriend found on the ground and decided to put in her shower. “I wonder if I should put a rock in my shower for when she’s over here,” said Ferris, who said he once tried to locate a rock at a Bed Bath & Beyond, but left after not wanting to walk up to a sales clerk and ask them where they kept their “shower rocks.” “Or I could just tell her to leave a rock at my place if she wants.” “I’m probably not going to do that,” Ferris added. At press time, a visibly perplexed Ferris had seen the rock sitting in Milstein’s trashcan and then looked in the shower to see another rock sitting in its place. : rubitrightintomyeyes: theonion: Rock Apparently Factors Into Girlfriend’s Shower Routine SEATTLE—Saying he was confused about the full extent of its purpose as well as its overall benefit, local man Jacob Ferris, 25, nonetheless surmised today that the oblong rock located in girlfriend Sarah Milstein’s shower caddy must somehow factor into her bathing routine, sources confirmed. “I guess at some point while she’s showering, she rubs a rock on her body,” said Ferris, expressing what he claimed was “the only possible conclusion” about the light-gray rock in his girlfriend’s bathroom. “I mean, it looks sort of nice, so she could just have it there for decoration or something. But it’s usually right near all the other soaps and her loofah, so I think it’s probably something she actually uses while under the water.” “I really don’t know how it all works,” Ferris added. “All I know is that in between Sarah getting into the shower and getting out, there’s a rock involved.” Ferris, who said he was unable to determine exactly when in the showering process the rock first comes into play, told reporters he is equally clueless about what part of the body the rock is used on. In addition, Ferris said he occasionally inspects the roughly 3-ounce object when he’s in Milstein’s shower, and told reporters that the rock is nearly always wet and is occasionally moved to slightly different spots within the bathtub, leading him to believe that his girlfriend uses it fairly regularly. He also noted his girlfriend’s bathing time never seems particularly longer than the average person’s considering she has added a rock into the mix. Ferris added that all attempts to incorporate the rock into his own shower routine have ultimately been unsuccessful. “I tried rubbing it on my skin once, and it hurt,” Ferris said, concluding that pouring soap and water directly onto the rock neither made it softer nor easier on his skin. “I could maybe see how it could get some dirt off of your body, but it seems too painful to work. Her skin usually looks nice though, so maybe I’m wrong.” “There is a chance it could be a hair thing,” Ferris continued. “Maybe she rubs the rock in her hair? I don’t know.” Ferris confirmed he has considered numerous reasons for why his girlfriend uses the rock in the shower, including that she has some type of skin condition, that the rock is some sort of weird tradition her family has, or that everyone uses rocks in the shower and he has been out of the loop the entire time. “It could be for cleaning the bathtub,” said Ferris, adding he once suspected the rock was a device for making the bathroom smell nice, but then noticed it had no discernible smell whatsoever. “Like every few weekends she scrubs the tub with this rock? I guess I could see Sarah doing that.” While Ferris said he is mostly certain that the rock was initially purchased at a home goods store of some kind, he was not able to completely rule out the possibility it was just a rock that his girlfriend found on the ground and decided to put in her shower. “I wonder if I should put a rock in my shower for when she’s over here,” said Ferris, who said he once tried to locate a rock at a Bed Bath & Beyond, but left after not wanting to walk up to a sales clerk and ask them where they kept their “shower rocks.” “Or I could just tell her to leave a rock at my place if she wants.” “I’m probably not going to do that,” Ferris added. At press time, a visibly perplexed Ferris had seen the rock sitting in Milstein’s trashcan and then looked in the shower to see another rock sitting in its place.

rubitrightintomyeyes: theonion: Rock Apparently Factors Into Girlfriend’s Shower Routine SEATTLE—Saying he was confused about the full...

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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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ups-dogs:On a dark and lonely night in the hills outside of Newberg, Oregon…a forlorn, feeble, famished, freezing, four-legged figure falters slowly towards my truck, trembling gingerly on arthritic limbs in the icy winter air.His grey muzzle and sorrowful eyes tell a sad tale of many years of hunger, pain and despair. A faint and sorrowful whimper emits from his throat as he gazes beseechingly at my bountiful box of biscuits, hoping against hope that I might ease his pangs of hunger and grant him one more night of survival by sharing a small morsel of sustenance with him.My heartstrings taut with compassion, I dig deep into my biscuit box and gently place 4 biscuits into his quivering jowls, praying with all my might that I have arrived in time to prevent his imminent starvation.And then…the magic happens.Like Popeye eating his can of spinach, an incredible transformation suddenly takes place. He is cured! The pain in his limbs is gone! His eyes sparkle! In less than a second, strength and vigor have returned to his formerly weak and malnourished body! In one bound he leaps from the steps of the truck and proceeds to to zoomies all about the yard like a puppy 12 years his junior, his speed turning him into a veritable blur, before running into the house thru his dog door. Through the living room window I see him leap up onto his spot on the couch next to the woodstove, a veritable blizzard of biscuit crumbs flying all over the lap of his human as he chomps happily away at the bounty of goodness that I have bestowed upon him. With tears of joy in my eyes I proceed to drive away, feeling a solemn pride in the knowledge that my generosity has saved this once-suffering dog from what was most certainly an imminent death from starvation. And to those of you who claim that I have merely been bamboozled and bewitched out of biscuits by a canine con artist, I say this; I am a trained professional with years of experience. Do I REALLY look like a guy who could get manipulated out of treats by a mere dog?By Scott Hodges: ups-dogs:On a dark and lonely night in the hills outside of Newberg, Oregon…a forlorn, feeble, famished, freezing, four-legged figure falters slowly towards my truck, trembling gingerly on arthritic limbs in the icy winter air.His grey muzzle and sorrowful eyes tell a sad tale of many years of hunger, pain and despair. A faint and sorrowful whimper emits from his throat as he gazes beseechingly at my bountiful box of biscuits, hoping against hope that I might ease his pangs of hunger and grant him one more night of survival by sharing a small morsel of sustenance with him.My heartstrings taut with compassion, I dig deep into my biscuit box and gently place 4 biscuits into his quivering jowls, praying with all my might that I have arrived in time to prevent his imminent starvation.And then…the magic happens.Like Popeye eating his can of spinach, an incredible transformation suddenly takes place. He is cured! The pain in his limbs is gone! His eyes sparkle! In less than a second, strength and vigor have returned to his formerly weak and malnourished body! In one bound he leaps from the steps of the truck and proceeds to to zoomies all about the yard like a puppy 12 years his junior, his speed turning him into a veritable blur, before running into the house thru his dog door. Through the living room window I see him leap up onto his spot on the couch next to the woodstove, a veritable blizzard of biscuit crumbs flying all over the lap of his human as he chomps happily away at the bounty of goodness that I have bestowed upon him. With tears of joy in my eyes I proceed to drive away, feeling a solemn pride in the knowledge that my generosity has saved this once-suffering dog from what was most certainly an imminent death from starvation. And to those of you who claim that I have merely been bamboozled and bewitched out of biscuits by a canine con artist, I say this; I am a trained professional with years of experience. Do I REALLY look like a guy who could get manipulated out of treats by a mere dog?By Scott Hodges

ups-dogs:On a dark and lonely night in the hills outside of Newberg, Oregon…a forlorn, feeble, famished, freezing, four-legged figure fal...

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clothing-references: clothing-references: This isn’t related to my blog aesthetic but I’m tired of seeing posts where people are making others paranoid that they’re in a coma or something. You’re not. I know lots of us know it’s just a bad “joke,” but some people don’t have the luxury of being able to believe that after seeing others tell them otherwise. You’re awake. Everything is okay. Hey so I’ve been dealing with some horrible cases of dissociation recently. It makes me think things that don’t make sense. I wanted to bring this post back and add onto it. Your life is real. You are awake. You aren’t lying on the ground or anything. No one is desperately trying to wake you. I am one person living in Houston who made this post. I am a living, conscious breathing person and if I made this post and it reaches you, that means you are, too. You didn’t imagine this post up. I made it two years ago. You aren’t dead. You aren’t seeing things. That light headed feeling is just a symptom. This isn’t a dream and you are going to be okay. I believe in you and I hope you get through this. : clothing-references: clothing-references: This isn’t related to my blog aesthetic but I’m tired of seeing posts where people are making others paranoid that they’re in a coma or something. You’re not. I know lots of us know it’s just a bad “joke,” but some people don’t have the luxury of being able to believe that after seeing others tell them otherwise. You’re awake. Everything is okay. Hey so I’ve been dealing with some horrible cases of dissociation recently. It makes me think things that don’t make sense. I wanted to bring this post back and add onto it. Your life is real. You are awake. You aren’t lying on the ground or anything. No one is desperately trying to wake you. I am one person living in Houston who made this post. I am a living, conscious breathing person and if I made this post and it reaches you, that means you are, too. You didn’t imagine this post up. I made it two years ago. You aren’t dead. You aren’t seeing things. That light headed feeling is just a symptom. This isn’t a dream and you are going to be okay. I believe in you and I hope you get through this.

clothing-references: clothing-references: This isn’t related to my blog aesthetic but I’m tired of seeing posts where people are making...

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ophidahlia: Coca-Cola (and Dixie Cup) pioneered the recycling movement in the 40’s to get people to return valuable glass bottles by charging almost half of the cost of the drink in a returnable fee. Nearly everyone returned their bottles; it was a huge success. When they switched to plastic in the 50’s it became more profitable to just toss bottles away so they used shell organizations to secretly lobby congress and senates to kill recycling bills while simultaneously creating massive ad campaigns to convince the public that recycling was all the consumer’s responsibility. This isn’t a conspiracy theory, it’s public knowledge that gets drowned out in the noise made by their PR firms. Last year Coca-Cola was still up to the same environmental villainry. More recycling advertising campaigns and killed bottle-fee bills which have been long proven to massively boost recycling rates but also push the cost of recycling from the consumer onto the manufacturer. That’s also detailed in the previous link. Don’t ever make the mistake of thinking that large corporations care about this world or anything in it other than profit. They’ll engage in charity as an investment if the campaign offers good return for their brand value and public image, but don’t think for a second we can get capitalists to behave ethically through any other means than forcing them to do it. : ophidahlia: Coca-Cola (and Dixie Cup) pioneered the recycling movement in the 40’s to get people to return valuable glass bottles by charging almost half of the cost of the drink in a returnable fee. Nearly everyone returned their bottles; it was a huge success. When they switched to plastic in the 50’s it became more profitable to just toss bottles away so they used shell organizations to secretly lobby congress and senates to kill recycling bills while simultaneously creating massive ad campaigns to convince the public that recycling was all the consumer’s responsibility. This isn’t a conspiracy theory, it’s public knowledge that gets drowned out in the noise made by their PR firms. Last year Coca-Cola was still up to the same environmental villainry. More recycling advertising campaigns and killed bottle-fee bills which have been long proven to massively boost recycling rates but also push the cost of recycling from the consumer onto the manufacturer. That’s also detailed in the previous link. Don’t ever make the mistake of thinking that large corporations care about this world or anything in it other than profit. They’ll engage in charity as an investment if the campaign offers good return for their brand value and public image, but don’t think for a second we can get capitalists to behave ethically through any other means than forcing them to do it.

ophidahlia: Coca-Cola (and Dixie Cup) pioneered the recycling movement in the 40’s to get people to return valuable glass bottles by char...

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pieprincess-andthe-fallenangel: westotanu: jeanjauthor: ao3commentoftheday: You’ve heard of lemons and the Citrus Scale? Well, what about KINKTOMATO? KINKTOMATO is an important concept in fandom. It’s a humourous re-spelling of YKINMKATO - Your Kink Is Not My Kink (And That’s OK). This is the idea that if you don’t like a particular kink or ship etc, that’s fine but you don’t need to attack or shame the people who do. Just leave them alone to enjoy their fics and art in peace and ask that they do the same in return.  KINKTOMATO is the “you do you” of fandom. It’s the “whatever floats your boat” of leaving other people alone. It’s an easy and judgement-free way of hoping that your fellow fans enjoy their content as much as you enjoy yours and understanding that different folks like different strokes.  Having preferences is human. Having squicks is totally normal. Everyone has NOTPs or lines they don’t want to cross. But fandom is a large group of diverse people with varying tastes and interests and backgrounds. Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations. Ship and let ship. Don’t like? Don’t read. Your kink is not my kink, and that’s okay.  This, writers. And yes, do bring back “squick” because if it makes you go “ew, ick” then that’s a squick, or a hard “uh no NOT for me” it’s a squick.  (Something that’s genuinely triggering will give you symptoms like hyperventillating, shaking hands, cold sweats, nausea, the feeling like you’re gonna faint, etc, but if it just makes you go “ew, ick” and scrunches your face in distaste, then that’s a squick, my friend.) just to add on - KINKTOMATO is not easy, which goes against the usual ‘it’s not hard to just hit the back button’ narrative but I’m gonna say it. most people think they can do this stuff just fine but usually what they’re considering as ‘things they don’t like’ are things they feel neutral about. ‘I’m not really fond of X but it doesn’t make me want to run for the hills if I see it in a fic’ is not ‘oh wow I really REALLY hate that’. it takes conscious effort to be fair about it. you have to resist the urge to be like ‘this is disgusting and I want to yell at someone for subjecting my poor eyeballs to this’. sometimes you gotta leave and do other things for a few days or even weeks just because you read the tags/summary on something and were like ‘oh god nope no ew ew ew’. nobody really enjoys practicing this type of self-discipline. it is sincerely unpleasant to encounter kinks you are repulsed/squicked by. there have been times when i was lax in reading through the tags or when i assumed a tag represented one kind of take on a thing but no actually it was another, way less appealing one, and it’s not a fun time to get that particular cold glass of water thrown onto your soul. be mature and fair about it anyway. resist the urge to be the fandom equivalent of those white suburban moms who yell at underpaid (or volunteer, in this case) cashiers and demand to speak to the manager. ignore the people who will try and appeal to you by telling you that your aversion is a result of some innate Goodness on your part and that people who make things you don’t like are Evil. And friendly reminder that both tumblr and AO3 have ways to filter out unwanted tags so that you can easily go about your day without seeing content for one of your squicks or notps. In fact, I find it good practice to do an AO3 search for all of my favourite ships, filtering out all tags and ships I don’t like, and then saving that page as a bookmark/favourite to make my future fic-browsing easier. That way, I never accidentally come across something that makes me squick. And whenever I come across another ship or tag that I hate, I add that into my ‘excluded tags’ list and resave it. It’s really simple and saves me a lot of pain and effort! : pieprincess-andthe-fallenangel: westotanu: jeanjauthor: ao3commentoftheday: You’ve heard of lemons and the Citrus Scale? Well, what about KINKTOMATO? KINKTOMATO is an important concept in fandom. It’s a humourous re-spelling of YKINMKATO - Your Kink Is Not My Kink (And That’s OK). This is the idea that if you don’t like a particular kink or ship etc, that’s fine but you don’t need to attack or shame the people who do. Just leave them alone to enjoy their fics and art in peace and ask that they do the same in return.  KINKTOMATO is the “you do you” of fandom. It’s the “whatever floats your boat” of leaving other people alone. It’s an easy and judgement-free way of hoping that your fellow fans enjoy their content as much as you enjoy yours and understanding that different folks like different strokes.  Having preferences is human. Having squicks is totally normal. Everyone has NOTPs or lines they don’t want to cross. But fandom is a large group of diverse people with varying tastes and interests and backgrounds. Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations. Ship and let ship. Don’t like? Don’t read. Your kink is not my kink, and that’s okay.  This, writers. And yes, do bring back “squick” because if it makes you go “ew, ick” then that’s a squick, or a hard “uh no NOT for me” it’s a squick.  (Something that’s genuinely triggering will give you symptoms like hyperventillating, shaking hands, cold sweats, nausea, the feeling like you’re gonna faint, etc, but if it just makes you go “ew, ick” and scrunches your face in distaste, then that’s a squick, my friend.) just to add on - KINKTOMATO is not easy, which goes against the usual ‘it’s not hard to just hit the back button’ narrative but I’m gonna say it. most people think they can do this stuff just fine but usually what they’re considering as ‘things they don’t like’ are things they feel neutral about. ‘I’m not really fond of X but it doesn’t make me want to run for the hills if I see it in a fic’ is not ‘oh wow I really REALLY hate that’. it takes conscious effort to be fair about it. you have to resist the urge to be like ‘this is disgusting and I want to yell at someone for subjecting my poor eyeballs to this’. sometimes you gotta leave and do other things for a few days or even weeks just because you read the tags/summary on something and were like ‘oh god nope no ew ew ew’. nobody really enjoys practicing this type of self-discipline. it is sincerely unpleasant to encounter kinks you are repulsed/squicked by. there have been times when i was lax in reading through the tags or when i assumed a tag represented one kind of take on a thing but no actually it was another, way less appealing one, and it’s not a fun time to get that particular cold glass of water thrown onto your soul. be mature and fair about it anyway. resist the urge to be the fandom equivalent of those white suburban moms who yell at underpaid (or volunteer, in this case) cashiers and demand to speak to the manager. ignore the people who will try and appeal to you by telling you that your aversion is a result of some innate Goodness on your part and that people who make things you don’t like are Evil. And friendly reminder that both tumblr and AO3 have ways to filter out unwanted tags so that you can easily go about your day without seeing content for one of your squicks or notps. In fact, I find it good practice to do an AO3 search for all of my favourite ships, filtering out all tags and ships I don’t like, and then saving that page as a bookmark/favourite to make my future fic-browsing easier. That way, I never accidentally come across something that makes me squick. And whenever I come across another ship or tag that I hate, I add that into my ‘excluded tags’ list and resave it. It’s really simple and saves me a lot of pain and effort!

pieprincess-andthe-fallenangel: westotanu: jeanjauthor: ao3commentoftheday: You’ve heard of lemons and the Citrus Scale? Well, what a...

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ironwoman359: 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 I love this : ironwoman359: 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 I love this

ironwoman359: cereusblue: unnameablethings: dragonsateyourtoast: redporkpadthai: dragonsateyourtoast: otherwindow: otherwindow: Th...

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by-grace-of-god: prolifeproliberty: candiikismet: gingersofficial: Life path unlocked. He’s a scientist now. If your dad is telling you in great detail about something he’s passionate about, you’re going to be hooked even if you don’t understand a word. He tells us more… So now I have to deliver a quiet lecture on the Standard Model every night. He loves lists of things, like all the streets home from daycare, or the train stations between here and Central, so he loves hearing the list of leptons and quarks and bosons. Anyway, I made this poster for him, based on the CPEP ones we used to have at uni .  Alas I ran out of room for antimatter, colour charge and confinement, but hey, maybe there can be a second poster later. It’s funny though — on the surface of it, it seems like it must be far too advanced for a 3yo. But when you think about it, quarks and leptons are no more or less real to him than, say, dinosaurs or planets, and he loves those too. And he recognises the letters on the particles. I am absolutely overwhelmed by the kind and sweet things people are saying about this, thanks everyone ❤️ Addendum: he has really grasped onto the “everything is made of atoms” part of this, so tonight he listed just about every object he could think of and asked if it was made of atoms. “And my bed?”Yes, and your bed.“And that wall?”Yep.“And the armchair?”Yes, the armchair too.……“And… the book case?”Y— “And my home?”Yep, the whole apartment block.“And your home? Oh wait, your home is my home.”Haha, it is.……“But is it made of atoms?”Yep.“And… [best friend]’s home?”Yes, it is. And [other friend]’s home, and [third friend]’s home. “Is [yet another friend]’s home?” Update from the other night: “Is my… is… [extremely long pause] is my atoms poster made up of atoms?”—Yes! Yes it is. I have never heard such a contemplative silence. I think the next poster will have to be on the philosophy of referential language. Update from this morning: after listing everything in sight (mummy? daddy? fridge? milk? cereal? table? etc.) he asks “is [baby sister] made up of atoms?” yep! *runs over to her on the floor**puts face up real close to hers*“HI! YOU’RE MADE UP OF LOTS OF ATOMS! DID YOU KNOW?” : by-grace-of-god: prolifeproliberty: candiikismet: gingersofficial: Life path unlocked. He’s a scientist now. If your dad is telling you in great detail about something he’s passionate about, you’re going to be hooked even if you don’t understand a word. He tells us more… So now I have to deliver a quiet lecture on the Standard Model every night. He loves lists of things, like all the streets home from daycare, or the train stations between here and Central, so he loves hearing the list of leptons and quarks and bosons. Anyway, I made this poster for him, based on the CPEP ones we used to have at uni .  Alas I ran out of room for antimatter, colour charge and confinement, but hey, maybe there can be a second poster later. It’s funny though — on the surface of it, it seems like it must be far too advanced for a 3yo. But when you think about it, quarks and leptons are no more or less real to him than, say, dinosaurs or planets, and he loves those too. And he recognises the letters on the particles. I am absolutely overwhelmed by the kind and sweet things people are saying about this, thanks everyone ❤️ Addendum: he has really grasped onto the “everything is made of atoms” part of this, so tonight he listed just about every object he could think of and asked if it was made of atoms. “And my bed?”Yes, and your bed.“And that wall?”Yep.“And the armchair?”Yes, the armchair too.……“And… the book case?”Y— “And my home?”Yep, the whole apartment block.“And your home? Oh wait, your home is my home.”Haha, it is.……“But is it made of atoms?”Yep.“And… [best friend]’s home?”Yes, it is. And [other friend]’s home, and [third friend]’s home. “Is [yet another friend]’s home?” Update from the other night: “Is my… is… [extremely long pause] is my atoms poster made up of atoms?”—Yes! Yes it is. I have never heard such a contemplative silence. I think the next poster will have to be on the philosophy of referential language. Update from this morning: after listing everything in sight (mummy? daddy? fridge? milk? cereal? table? etc.) he asks “is [baby sister] made up of atoms?” yep! *runs over to her on the floor**puts face up real close to hers*“HI! YOU’RE MADE UP OF LOTS OF ATOMS! DID YOU KNOW?”

by-grace-of-god: prolifeproliberty: candiikismet: gingersofficial: Life path unlocked. He’s a scientist now. If your dad is tell...

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ruffboijuliaburnsides: ayalaatreides: professor-maple-mod: phoenix-phoenix: stuckinremission: “Sweet dreams are made of this. Who am I to disagree?“ Holy shit this fucking super power. The avengers did Quicksilver WRONG. Holy shit The brilliant thing about this isn’t just the CGI, it’s the clever little touches of humor– mussing the boy’s hair, saving the goldfish, drinking the soda can, the moonwalk, lining up the dart with the dartboard. I notice new details every time I see this clip. You can watch this scene with zero context and still fully enjoy it. You don’t need to know who he is or who he’s saving or why. There’s a guy who runs real fast and he’s saving people from an explosion, and he’s having a blast with it, and that’s all you need to know. It’s entertaining and fully comprehensible even if you know nothing about the movie. That’s damn good filmmaking. I have absolutely ZERO interest in ever watching this movie, and I never have had any. But ever since this clip first made it onto tumblr, I have watched it EVERY SINGLE TIME it’s come around, because it is just absolutely fantastic work not only cinematographically but also to show characterization. He’s gonna save all these people, but he’s also gonna have a little fun. He’s a good person but a mischievous one, who probably has a lot of opinions and who doesn’t take things too seriously. Plus the music choice is just ON POINT. : ruffboijuliaburnsides: ayalaatreides: professor-maple-mod: phoenix-phoenix: stuckinremission: “Sweet dreams are made of this. Who am I to disagree?“ Holy shit this fucking super power. The avengers did Quicksilver WRONG. Holy shit The brilliant thing about this isn’t just the CGI, it’s the clever little touches of humor– mussing the boy’s hair, saving the goldfish, drinking the soda can, the moonwalk, lining up the dart with the dartboard. I notice new details every time I see this clip. You can watch this scene with zero context and still fully enjoy it. You don’t need to know who he is or who he’s saving or why. There’s a guy who runs real fast and he’s saving people from an explosion, and he’s having a blast with it, and that’s all you need to know. It’s entertaining and fully comprehensible even if you know nothing about the movie. That’s damn good filmmaking. I have absolutely ZERO interest in ever watching this movie, and I never have had any. But ever since this clip first made it onto tumblr, I have watched it EVERY SINGLE TIME it’s come around, because it is just absolutely fantastic work not only cinematographically but also to show characterization. He’s gonna save all these people, but he’s also gonna have a little fun. He’s a good person but a mischievous one, who probably has a lot of opinions and who doesn’t take things too seriously. Plus the music choice is just ON POINT.
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fenixfoxtrot510: tyrantisterror: driftingindeadspace: tyrantisterror: driftingindeadspace: tyrantisterror: godzilla3092: tyrantisterror: godzilla201460: mark9-jaeger-kaiju-gesundheit: The Man of Steel vs the King of the Monsters by DR-Studios Man of steel is fucked. One is a horrifying unstoppable murder monster that smashes buildings and kills all who oppose it while laughing off the pitiful weapons humanity throws at it and never once stops to consider the value of the human lives that get caught in the wake of its titanic battles for supremacy. The other is Godzilla. I’d hate to say it, you guys, but Godzilla probably wouldn’t win that fight. Probably not, not.  At some point Godzilla would try to avoid killing innocent bystanders, at which point Superman would make the kill shot in a way that forces Godzilla’s corpse to fall onto and crush as many fleeing human beings as possible.  Superman would then toss the carcass into a dozen or so more buildings, specifically aiming for those that are still inhabited by trapped people, and maybe drag the corpse through the rubble just in case a few humans clung onto life despite their grievous wounds before finally leaving the carcass on a school or hospital to rot and fester - or maybe in the water supply to ensure the maximum amount of people can be exposed to whatever diseases result. Then he’d threaten the military not to cross him again before making a terrible sex joke at Amy Adams. I’m sorry to say, but you got both of these characters COMPLETELY backwards. No, Godzilla does go out of his way to avoid hurting innocent bystanders - at least in the 2014 movie, which is the version shown in the picture above.  Godzilla tries his best to avoid going through the Golden Gate bridge, avoids swimming through navy ships, and even tries to walk around buildings rather than through them when fighting the wicked mutos.  And he does it in a few other movies, too - one time that stands out to me occurs in the original Godzilla vs. MechaGodzilla he actually leads the evil MechaGodzilla away from the city into the wilderness before having a brutal match. So yeah, I’d say I have them pretty spot on. I think the reason he doesn’t go through buildings because that would be fucking stupid. Also he didn’t seem to care enough when he started smashing the golden gate bridge with the bus full of children on it when the military attacked him. Or how about the time he flooded all of Hawaii? He’s not consciously protecting humans because all he cares about is killing the MUTOS. He most likely fights them for territory which would kind of make sense as to why he would want to be killed by Superman in the first place 1. Godzilla was knocked into the bridge by those missiles.  There’s a difference between stumbling into something when someone pushes you into it and purposely knocking that thing over.  What happened with Godzilla and the bridge was the former - he actually spent a good chunk of time avoiding the bridge and blocking it from the missiles with his body before he was finally forced through it.  That’s not Godzilla’s fault, that’s the military’s. 2. Godzilla didn’t mean to flood Hawaii - he probably wasn’t even aware of how the water was being displaced.  It’s destructive, sure, but it’s not something he could avoid.  It’s not the same as, say, a super powered murderer tackling another super powered murderer through a cornfield into a populated area like some kind of sociopath. I don’t know why you’re trying to paint Godzilla in such a negative light, but it kinda scares me. Ya’ll lay off Godzilla! He’s trying his best! His best is all he can do and it’s difficult to do so when litteral armies of people are trying to sabotage him! Godzilla is the local Lizard that won’t hurt the ants because they need each other.Superman is the invasive bird that seeks to eat all ants to assert dominance : fenixfoxtrot510: tyrantisterror: driftingindeadspace: tyrantisterror: driftingindeadspace: tyrantisterror: godzilla3092: tyrantisterror: godzilla201460: mark9-jaeger-kaiju-gesundheit: The Man of Steel vs the King of the Monsters by DR-Studios Man of steel is fucked. One is a horrifying unstoppable murder monster that smashes buildings and kills all who oppose it while laughing off the pitiful weapons humanity throws at it and never once stops to consider the value of the human lives that get caught in the wake of its titanic battles for supremacy. The other is Godzilla. I’d hate to say it, you guys, but Godzilla probably wouldn’t win that fight. Probably not, not.  At some point Godzilla would try to avoid killing innocent bystanders, at which point Superman would make the kill shot in a way that forces Godzilla’s corpse to fall onto and crush as many fleeing human beings as possible.  Superman would then toss the carcass into a dozen or so more buildings, specifically aiming for those that are still inhabited by trapped people, and maybe drag the corpse through the rubble just in case a few humans clung onto life despite their grievous wounds before finally leaving the carcass on a school or hospital to rot and fester - or maybe in the water supply to ensure the maximum amount of people can be exposed to whatever diseases result. Then he’d threaten the military not to cross him again before making a terrible sex joke at Amy Adams. I’m sorry to say, but you got both of these characters COMPLETELY backwards. No, Godzilla does go out of his way to avoid hurting innocent bystanders - at least in the 2014 movie, which is the version shown in the picture above.  Godzilla tries his best to avoid going through the Golden Gate bridge, avoids swimming through navy ships, and even tries to walk around buildings rather than through them when fighting the wicked mutos.  And he does it in a few other movies, too - one time that stands out to me occurs in the original Godzilla vs. MechaGodzilla he actually leads the evil MechaGodzilla away from the city into the wilderness before having a brutal match. So yeah, I’d say I have them pretty spot on. I think the reason he doesn’t go through buildings because that would be fucking stupid. Also he didn’t seem to care enough when he started smashing the golden gate bridge with the bus full of children on it when the military attacked him. Or how about the time he flooded all of Hawaii? He’s not consciously protecting humans because all he cares about is killing the MUTOS. He most likely fights them for territory which would kind of make sense as to why he would want to be killed by Superman in the first place 1. Godzilla was knocked into the bridge by those missiles.  There’s a difference between stumbling into something when someone pushes you into it and purposely knocking that thing over.  What happened with Godzilla and the bridge was the former - he actually spent a good chunk of time avoiding the bridge and blocking it from the missiles with his body before he was finally forced through it.  That’s not Godzilla’s fault, that’s the military’s. 2. Godzilla didn’t mean to flood Hawaii - he probably wasn’t even aware of how the water was being displaced.  It’s destructive, sure, but it’s not something he could avoid.  It’s not the same as, say, a super powered murderer tackling another super powered murderer through a cornfield into a populated area like some kind of sociopath. I don’t know why you’re trying to paint Godzilla in such a negative light, but it kinda scares me. Ya’ll lay off Godzilla! He’s trying his best! His best is all he can do and it’s difficult to do so when litteral armies of people are trying to sabotage him! Godzilla is the local Lizard that won’t hurt the ants because they need each other.Superman is the invasive bird that seeks to eat all ants to assert dominance
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