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Pull: inquisitorhotpants: burntcopper: futureevilscientist: optimysticals: uovoc: konec0: sleepyferret: shitfacedanon: dat-soldier: sonnetscrewdriver: dat-soldier: did-you-kno: Source back the fuck up There’s another story that I like about a Chinese general who had to defend a city with only a handful of soldiers from a huge enemy horde that was in all likelihood going to steamroll the place flat within hours of showing up. So when said horde did arrive, they saw the general sitting outside the city’s open gates, drinking tea. The horde sent a couple of emissaries over to see what was what, and the general greeted them cheerfully and invited them all to come and take tea with him. The horde decided that this was a scenario that had “MASSIVE FUCKING TRAP” written all over it in beautiful calligraphy and promptly fucked off. Whoever that general was, he was clearly the Ancient Chinese equivalent of Sam Vimes. did he just invite us over for tea nah man i’m out This just keeps getting better I fucking love history. ok but tbh that story misses a lot of the subtlety of the situation like ok so this story is the Romance of Three Kingdoms, and essentially takes place between Zhuge Liang, resident tactician extraordinaire, and Sima Yi… OTHER resident tactician extraordinaire. The two were both regarded as tactical geniuses and recognized the other as their rival. Zhuge Liang had a reputation for ambushing the SHIT out of his opponents and using the environment to his advantage, thus destroying large armies with a small number of men. Sima Yi (who kind of entered the picture later) was a cautious person whose speciality was unravelling his opponent’s plans before they began. So it was natural that the two would butt heads; however, since Sima Yi tended to have more men and resources, he started winning battles against the former. Which, y’know, kinda sucked. On to the actual story: Zhuge Liang is all like “shit i gotta defend this city with like 10 men.” Literally if he fights ANY kind of battle here, he WILL lose; his only option for survival is not to fight. And that’s looking more and more impossible until he hears that his rival is leading the opposing army. And then he gets this brilliant idea. He basically opens all the gates, sends his men out in civilian clothes to sweep the streets, and sits on top of the gate drinking tea and chilling out and basically makes the whole thing out to be a trap When Sima Yi comes he’s all like “yo come on in bro” and Sima Yi is like “yeah he’s never been that obvious about his traps before. this is definitely a bluff” and he’s about to head in when he realizes wait. he knows that i think he’s bluffing. and so he gets it in his head that maybe, just MAYBE, Zhuge Liang has this cunning plan that will wipe out his army - recall that he has a pretty good handle on what his rival is capable of. And after a long period of deliberation (which is just like “he know that I know that he knows that etc.”), being the cautious man he is, SIma Yi eventually decides to turn his entire army around and leave. Zhuge Liang later points out that the plan was based specifically on the fact that he was facing his rival; if it had been anyone else, there’s no way it would have worked. A dumber or less cautious person would have simply charged in and won without breaking a sweat.  and that’s the real genius here: it was a plan formed entirely just to deceive one man, and it worked. Zhuge Liang is the most brilliant, sneaky-ass bastard in history. One time his side’s army was out of arrows, which pretty much meant they were screwed. So Zhuge Liang goes and does the logical thing, which is build a fuck ton of scarecrows and put them all on boats. Then he makes the men hide in the boats and sail them out on the river. Well, that day was super foggy (which Zhuge Liang had predicted. Did I mention he was also a freakishly accurate meteorologist?). So the enemy across the river sees a fleet of boats armed to the teeth with what appears to be half an army of men. They panic! and start firing arrows like crazy.  Zhuge Liang lets this play out for a while, then he’s like, ”Ok guys that’s enough.” They calmly turn the boats around and go back to base, where they dismantle the scarecrows and pull out all the enemy’s arrows. Zhuge Liang is legend. I love this post. It just keeps getting better. Like seriously, I would have adored learning about this in World History. If you want to see this in cinematic glory, watch Red Cliff. Especially since it makes Zhuge Liang look like this: Red Cliff is 50% bloody battles and 50% eye candy and about half of that eye-candy is due to Zhuge Liang I fully support watching Red Cliff; it’s gloriously silly entertainment during the battle scenes. Guess what just got moved to the top of my watch list?? :D
Pull: inquisitorhotpants:

burntcopper:

futureevilscientist:

optimysticals:

uovoc:

konec0:

sleepyferret:

shitfacedanon:

dat-soldier:

sonnetscrewdriver:

dat-soldier:

did-you-kno:

Source


back the fuck up


There’s another story that I like about a Chinese general who had to defend a city with only a handful of soldiers from a huge enemy horde that was in all likelihood going to steamroll the place flat within hours of showing up.
So when said horde did arrive, they saw the general sitting outside the city’s open gates, drinking tea. The horde sent a couple of emissaries over to see what was what, and the general greeted them cheerfully and invited them all to come and take tea with him.
The horde decided that this was a scenario that had “MASSIVE FUCKING TRAP” written all over it in beautiful calligraphy and promptly fucked off.
Whoever that general was, he was clearly the Ancient Chinese equivalent of Sam Vimes.


did he just invite us over for tea nah man i’m out


This just keeps getting better

I fucking love history.

ok but tbh that story misses a lot of the subtlety of the situation like ok
so this story is the Romance of Three Kingdoms, and essentially takes place between Zhuge Liang, resident tactician extraordinaire, and Sima Yi… OTHER resident tactician extraordinaire.
The two were both regarded as tactical geniuses and recognized the other as their rival. Zhuge Liang had a reputation for ambushing the SHIT out of his opponents and using the environment to his advantage, thus destroying large armies with a small number of men. Sima Yi (who kind of entered the picture later) was a cautious person whose speciality was unravelling his opponent’s plans before they began. So it was natural that the two would butt heads; however, since Sima Yi tended to have more men and resources, he started winning battles against the former. Which, y’know, kinda sucked.
On to the actual story: Zhuge Liang is all like “shit i gotta defend this city with like 10 men.” Literally if he fights ANY kind of battle here, he WILL lose; his only option for survival is not to fight. And that’s looking more and more impossible until he hears that his rival is leading the opposing army. And then he gets this brilliant idea. He basically opens all the gates, sends his men out in civilian clothes to sweep the streets, and sits on top of the gate drinking tea and chilling out and basically makes the whole thing out to be a trap
When Sima Yi comes he’s all like “yo come on in bro”
and Sima Yi is like “yeah he’s never been that obvious about his traps before. this is definitely a bluff” and he’s about to head in when he realizes
wait. he knows that i think he’s bluffing.
and so he gets it in his head that maybe, just MAYBE, Zhuge Liang has this cunning plan that will wipe out his army - recall that he has a pretty good handle on what his rival is capable of. And after a long period of deliberation (which is just like “he know that I know that he knows that etc.”), being the cautious man he is, SIma Yi eventually decides to turn his entire army around and leave.
Zhuge Liang later points out that the plan was based specifically on the fact that he was facing his rival; if it had been anyone else, there’s no way it would have worked. A dumber or less cautious person would have simply charged in and won without breaking a sweat. 
and that’s the real genius here: it was a plan formed entirely just to deceive one man, and it worked.

Zhuge Liang is the most brilliant, sneaky-ass bastard in history. One time his side’s army was out of arrows, which pretty much meant they were screwed. So Zhuge Liang goes and does the logical thing, which is build a fuck ton of scarecrows and put them all on boats. Then he makes the men hide in the boats and sail them out on the river.
Well, that day was super foggy (which Zhuge Liang had predicted. Did I mention he was also a freakishly accurate meteorologist?). So the enemy across the river sees a fleet of boats armed to the teeth with what appears to be half an army of men. They panic! and start firing arrows like crazy. 
Zhuge Liang lets this play out for a while, then he’s like, ”Ok guys that’s enough.” They calmly turn the boats around and go back to base, where they dismantle the scarecrows and pull out all the enemy’s arrows.
Zhuge Liang is legend.

I love this post. It just keeps getting better. Like seriously, I would have adored learning about this in World History.

If you want to see this in cinematic glory, watch Red Cliff.
Especially since it makes Zhuge Liang look like this:
Red Cliff is 50% bloody battles and 50% eye candy and about half of that eye-candy is due to Zhuge Liang

I fully support watching Red Cliff; it’s gloriously silly entertainment during the battle scenes.

Guess what just got moved to the top of my watch list?? :D

inquisitorhotpants: burntcopper: futureevilscientist: optimysticals: uovoc: konec0: sleepyferret: shitfacedanon: dat-soldier: so...

Pull: Pull the lever Kronk…! by Zukistrukiz MORE MEMES
Pull: Pull the lever Kronk…! by Zukistrukiz
MORE MEMES

Pull the lever Kronk…! by Zukistrukiz MORE MEMES

Pull: Now who’s a good boy? by Jamie_Pull_That_Up MORE MEMES
Pull: Now who’s a good boy? by Jamie_Pull_That_Up
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Now who’s a good boy? by Jamie_Pull_That_Up MORE MEMES

Pull: Same shit different year. by Jamie_Pull_That_Up MORE MEMES
Pull: Same shit different year. by Jamie_Pull_That_Up
MORE MEMES

Same shit different year. by Jamie_Pull_That_Up MORE MEMES

Pull: clover11-10: breezeinmonochromenight: star-linedsoul: razzleberryjam: ironwoman359: chaos-in-the-making: smugkoalas: allthefandomss: that-catholic-shinobi: gahdamnpunk: American Girl stories were the best tbh Dude, read the books, she and her mom freed themselves in Book 1. We don’t disrespect American Girl in this house Don’t you dare disrespect Addy, or any of my girls for that matter. American Girl used to be legit. Good stories, good dolls, good movies. Felicity’s story was set in the beginnings of the American Revolution, and addressed the conflict that she faced when her loved ones were split between patriots and loyalists. It also covered the effects of animal abuse, and forgiving those who are unforgivable. Samantha’s stories centered around the growth of industrial America, women’s suffrage, child abuse, and corruption in places of power. Also, it emphasises how dramatically adoption into a caring family can turn a life around. Kit’s story is one of my favorites. Her family is hit hard by the Great Depression, and they begin taking in boarders and raise chickens to help make ends meet. Her books include themes of poverty, police brutality, homelessness, prejudice, and the importance of unity in difficult times. Molly’s father, a doctor, is drafted during the Second World War. Throughout her story, friends of hers suffer the loss of their husbands, sons, and brothers overseas. Her mother leaves the traditional housewife position and works full-time to help with the war effort. They also take in an English refugee child, who learns to open up after a life of traumatic experience. American Girl stories have always featured the very harsh realities of America through the years. But they’re always presented honestly, yet in ways that kids can understand. They just go to show that you don’t have to live in a perfect time to be a real American girl. Dont you fucking dare disrespect the American Girls in my house. ESPECIALLY Addy!! That was my first REAL contact with the horrors of slavery, as I read about her father being whipped and sold and her mother escaping with her to freedom, but also how freedom was still a struggle. A slave doll. Please. Read the books. Don’t forget Kirsten, the Swedish immigrant who had to deal with balancing her own culture and learning the english language and customs of her classmates, or Kaya (full name Kaya'aton'my, or She Who Arranges Rocks) , the brave but careless girl from the Nez Perce tribe, or Josefina, the Mexican girl learning to be a healer. And then there are the later dolls, that kids younger than me would have grown up with (I was just outgrowing American Girl as these came out), like Rebecca, the Jewish girl who dreams of becoming an actress in the budding film industry, or  Julie, who fights against her school’s gender policy surrounding sports in the 70s, or  Nanea, the Hawaiian girl whose father worked at Pearl Harbor. These books, these characters, are fantastic pictures into life for girls in America throughout the years, they pull no punches with the horrors that these girls had to face in their different time periods, and in many cases I learned more history from these series than social studies at school. And that’s without even mentioning the “girl of the year” series where characters are created in the modern world to help girls deal with issues like friend problems, moving, or bullying. We do NOT disrespect American Girl in this house. American Girl is probably going to be the only exposure young girls are going to get to history from a female perspective. This is actually kind of important considering that in history classes we dont really get that exposure. We dont hear about what women felt and endured during these time periods cause schools are too busy teaching us about what happened from the male perspective, which is not unimportant, but we need both. Girls need both. These books were such a crucial part of my childhood and shaped my love of history, which still ensures today. These books can be a young girl’s first lessons in diversity and cultural awareness (hopefully burying that insensitive “we’re all Americans” tripe) and looking at history from more perspectives than just that taught in school. They also are an example of how women have ALWAYS been part of history, which some people would rather us not believe. I think Kit and Kaya were the newest American Girls when I started “aging out” of the books, but hearing about some of these kinda makes me want to revisit them! I wasn’t gonna say anything, but you know what? Nah. OP (of the tweet thread) was either a actively trying to start shit or is just a huge fucking moron. Probably both. I’d like to point out that the company that makes American Girl dolls actually doesn’t skimp when doing their research and they don’t make the dolls with the intent to be offensive in any way: I loved American Girl growing up they’re great role models and history lessons so yeah let’s not cancel this for ignorant reasons
Pull: clover11-10:

breezeinmonochromenight:

star-linedsoul:

razzleberryjam:

ironwoman359:

chaos-in-the-making:

smugkoalas:


allthefandomss:

that-catholic-shinobi:

gahdamnpunk:
American Girl stories were the best tbh

Dude, read the books, she and her mom freed themselves in Book 1. We don’t disrespect American Girl in this house 


Don’t you dare disrespect Addy, or any of my girls for that matter. American Girl used to be legit. Good stories, good dolls, good movies. 


Felicity’s story was set in the beginnings of the American Revolution, and addressed the conflict that she faced when her loved ones were split between patriots and loyalists. It also covered the effects of animal abuse, and forgiving those who are unforgivable. 
Samantha’s stories centered around the growth of industrial America, women’s suffrage, child abuse, and corruption in places of power. Also, it emphasises how dramatically adoption into a caring family can turn a life around. 
Kit’s story is one of my favorites. Her family is hit hard by the Great Depression, and they begin taking in boarders and raise chickens to help make ends meet. Her books include themes of poverty, police brutality, homelessness, prejudice, and the importance of unity in difficult times. 
Molly’s father, a doctor, is drafted during the Second World War. Throughout her story, friends of hers suffer the loss of their husbands, sons, and brothers overseas. Her mother leaves the traditional housewife position and works full-time to help with the war effort. They also take in an English refugee child, who learns to open up after a life of traumatic experience. 
American Girl stories have always featured the very harsh realities of America through the years. But they’re always presented honestly, yet in ways that kids can understand. They just go to show that you don’t have to live in a perfect time to be a real American girl. 


Dont you fucking dare disrespect the American Girls in my house. ESPECIALLY Addy!! That was my first REAL contact with the horrors of slavery, as I read about her father being whipped and sold and her mother escaping with her to freedom, but also how freedom was still a struggle.
A slave doll. Please. Read the books. 

Don’t forget Kirsten, the Swedish immigrant who had to deal with balancing her own culture and learning the english language and customs of her classmates, or Kaya (full name 

Kaya'aton'my, or She Who Arranges Rocks) , the brave but careless girl from the Nez Perce tribe, or Josefina, the Mexican girl learning to be a healer.
And then there are the later dolls, that kids younger than me would have grown up with (I was just outgrowing American Girl as these came out), like Rebecca, the Jewish girl who dreams of becoming an actress in the budding film industry, or 

Julie, who fights against her school’s gender policy surrounding sports in the 70s, or 

Nanea, the Hawaiian girl whose father worked at Pearl Harbor.
These books, these characters, are fantastic pictures into life for girls in America throughout the years, they pull no punches with the horrors that these girls had to face in their different time periods, and in many cases I learned more history from these series than social studies at school. And that’s without even mentioning the “girl of the year” series where characters are created in the modern world to help girls deal with issues like friend problems, moving, or bullying. We do NOT disrespect American Girl in this house.


American Girl is probably going to be the only exposure young girls are going to get to history from a female perspective. This is actually kind of important considering that in history classes we dont really get that exposure. We dont hear about what women felt and endured during these time periods cause schools are too busy teaching us about what happened from the male perspective, which is not unimportant, but we need both. Girls need both.



These books were such a crucial part of my childhood and shaped my love of history, which still ensures today. These books can be a young girl’s first  lessons in diversity and cultural awareness (hopefully burying that insensitive “we’re all Americans” tripe) and looking at history from more perspectives than just that taught in school. They also are an example of how women have ALWAYS been part of history, which some people would rather us not believe.
I think Kit and Kaya were the newest American Girls when I started “aging out” of the books, but hearing about some of these kinda makes me want to revisit them!

I wasn’t gonna say anything, but you know what? 
Nah.
OP (of the tweet thread) was either a actively trying to start shit or is just a huge fucking moron. Probably both.
I’d like to point out that the company that makes American Girl dolls actually doesn’t skimp when doing their research and they don’t make the dolls with the intent to be offensive in any way:





I loved American Girl growing up they’re great role models and history lessons so yeah let’s not cancel this for ignorant reasons

clover11-10: breezeinmonochromenight: star-linedsoul: razzleberryjam: ironwoman359: chaos-in-the-making: smugkoalas: allthefandom...

Pull: phantomemes: starters  /  prompts taken from f. d. soul’s work ,  between you and these bones .  feel free to change pronouns  /  tenses as necessary . ‘  the problem is you keep trying to use your eyes  ’ ‘  how i soften when you pull me against you  ’ ‘  you are teaching me to love  ’ ‘  i will pretend that i have not already heard the question in your eyes  ’ ‘  you perhaps will become my swan song  ’ ‘  it is a very human thing to love  ’ ‘  you are my good days  ’ ‘  i have been loved dearly  ’ ‘  i promise you will not always be this war  ’ ‘  thank god for the stubbornness of organs  ’ ‘  it takes me seven days to stop being in love with you  ’ ‘  there will always be another day  ’ ‘  there will always be another mercy  ’ ‘  perhaps i will take up dancing again  ’ ‘  what a pretty little disaster you will be  ’ ‘  i am terrified for you  ’ ‘  i will fold inside of myself  ’ ‘  today i am thankful  ’ ‘  i didn’t want to sleep because i didn’t want to wake  ’ ‘  come and get me  ’ ‘  i tell myself i do not need you  ’ ‘  i think i broke again last night  ’ ‘  i’m just trying to connect with you  ’ ‘  you are an ocean that will perhaps never stop crashing  ’ ‘  burn the house down in search of yourself  ’ ‘  don’t you dare ever stop looking  ’ ‘  i struggle not to feel guilty  ’ ‘  you are a wild  ,  unkempt thing  ’ ‘  sometimes it is a very sad thing to be human and longing  ’ ‘  find that you are made of russian nesting dolls  ’ ‘  the trees are always kindest with spring comes  ’ ‘  teach yourself the hymns again  ’ ‘  he is every amen i have ever laid down on lips  ’ ‘  this life is an altar  ’ ‘  i am sorry i do not have more time  ’ ‘  there is a mountain in me  ’ ‘  by the morning i am a triumph  ’ ‘  there are words playing hooky in the back of your throat  ’ ‘  today is by far the most beautiful creature i have ever come across  ’ ‘  there are many things that will fit beneath your skin  ’ ‘  forgiveness does not take up much room  ’ ‘  some days you will breathe and it will be enough  ’ ‘  you do not have to hold it quite so tightly  ’ ‘  there is a prayer in me  ,  still  ’ ‘  you scare me a little  ’ ‘  you can be a good thing and not a whole thing  ’ ‘  there are flowers in my chest again  ’ ‘  the rain comes and sounds like you  ’ ‘  i cannot tell you why i still trust god  ’ ‘  find peace and build a home out of it  ’ ‘  there is never an end  ’
Pull: phantomemes:
starters  /  prompts taken from f. d. soul’s work ,  between you and these bones .  feel free to change pronouns  /  tenses as necessary .
‘  the problem is you keep trying to use your eyes  ’
‘  how i soften when you pull me against you  ’
‘  you are teaching me to love  ’
‘  i will pretend that i have not already heard the question in your eyes  ’
‘  you perhaps will become my swan song  ’
‘  it is a very human thing to love  ’
‘  you are my good days  ’
‘  i have been loved dearly  ’
‘  i promise you will not always be this war  ’
‘  thank god for the stubbornness of organs  ’
‘  it takes me seven days to stop being in love with you  ’
‘  there will always be another day  ’
‘  there will always be another mercy  ’
‘  perhaps i will take up dancing again  ’
‘  what a pretty little disaster you will be  ’
‘  i am terrified for you  ’
‘  i will fold inside of myself  ’
‘  today i am thankful  ’
‘  i didn’t want to sleep because i didn’t want to wake  ’
‘  come and get me  ’
‘  i tell myself i do not need you  ’
‘  i think i broke again last night  ’
‘  i’m just trying to connect with you  ’
‘  you are an ocean that will perhaps never stop crashing  ’
‘  burn the house down in search of yourself  ’
‘  don’t you dare ever stop looking  ’
‘  i struggle not to feel guilty  ’
‘  you are a wild  ,  unkempt thing  ’
‘  sometimes it is a very sad thing to be human and longing  ’
‘  find that you are made of russian nesting dolls  ’
‘  the trees are always kindest with spring comes  ’
‘  teach yourself the hymns again  ’
‘  he is every amen i have ever laid down on lips  ’
‘  this life is an altar  ’
‘  i am sorry i do not have more time  ’
‘  there is a mountain in me  ’
‘  by the morning i am a triumph  ’
‘  there are words playing hooky in the back of your throat  ’
‘  today is by far the most beautiful creature i have ever come across  ’
‘  there are many things that will fit beneath your skin  ’
‘  forgiveness does not take up much room  ’
‘  some days you will breathe and it will be enough  ’
‘  you do not have to hold it quite so tightly  ’
‘  there is a prayer in me  ,  still  ’
‘  you scare me a little  ’
‘  you can be a good thing and not a whole thing  ’
‘  there are flowers in my chest again  ’
‘  the rain comes and sounds like you  ’
‘  i cannot tell you why i still trust god  ’
‘  find peace and build a home out of it  ’

‘  there is never an end  ’

phantomemes: starters  /  prompts taken from f. d. soul’s work ,  between you and these bones .  feel free to change pronouns  /  tenses...

Pull: Know Your Hwites…. by Jamie_Pull_That_Up MORE MEMES
Pull: Know Your Hwites…. by Jamie_Pull_That_Up
MORE MEMES

Know Your Hwites…. by Jamie_Pull_That_Up MORE MEMES

Pull: minus-hyphen: laughingsquid: Adam Savage Rides in a Custom Rickshaw Carriage He Built For His Boston Robotics Spot Robot to Pull Along It’s every bit as extra as I would expect from Adam Savage
Pull: minus-hyphen:
laughingsquid:
Adam Savage Rides in a Custom Rickshaw Carriage He Built For His Boston Robotics Spot Robot to Pull Along


It’s every bit as extra as I would expect from Adam Savage

minus-hyphen: laughingsquid: Adam Savage Rides in a Custom Rickshaw Carriage He Built For His Boston Robotics Spot Robot to Pull Along...

Pull: 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
Pull: 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...

Pull: Guess I have some “pull”
Pull: Guess I have some “pull”

Guess I have some “pull”

Pull: We’re Living In A Medical Apartheid. by Jamie_Pull_That_Up MORE MEMES
Pull: We’re Living In A Medical Apartheid. by Jamie_Pull_That_Up
MORE MEMES

We’re Living In A Medical Apartheid. by Jamie_Pull_That_Up MORE MEMES

Pull: bogleech: lynati: movemequotes: Once a little boy went to school.One morningThe teacher said:“Today we are going to make a picture.”“Good!” thought the little boy.He liked to make all kinds;Lions and tigers,Chickens and cows,Trains and boats;And he took out his box of crayonsAnd began to draw. But the teacher said, “Wait!”“It is not time to begin!”And she waited until everyone looked ready.“Now,” said the teacher,“We are going to make flowers.”“Good!” thought the little boy,He liked to make beautiful onesWith his pink and orange and blue crayons.But the teacher said “Wait!”“And I will show you how.”And it was red, with a green stem.“There,” said the teacher,“Now you may begin.” The little boy looked at his teacher’s flowerThen he looked at his own flower.He liked his flower better than the teacher’sBut he did not say this.He just turned his paper over,And made a flower like the teacher’s.It was red, with a green stem. On another dayThe teacher said:“Today we are going to make something with clay.”“Good!” thought the little boy;He liked clay.He could make all kinds of things with clay:Snakes and snowmen,Elephants and mice,Cars and trucksAnd he began to pull and pinchHis ball of clay. But the teacher said, “Wait!”“It is not time to begin!”And she waited until everyone looked ready.“Now,” said the teacher,“We are going to make a dish.”“Good!” thought the little boy,He liked to make dishes.And he began to make someThat were all shapes and sizes. But the teacher said “Wait!”“And I will show you how.”And she showed everyone how to makeOne deep dish.“There,” said the teacher,“Now you may begin.” The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish;Then he looked at his own.He liked his better than the teacher’sBut he did not say this.He just rolled his clay into a big ball againAnd made a dish like the teacher’s.It was a deep dish. And pretty soonThe little boy learned to wait,And to watchAnd to make things just like the teacher.And pretty soonHe didn’t make things of his own anymore. Then it happenedThat the little boy and his familyMoved to another house,In another city,And the little boyHad to go to another school. The teacher said:“Today we are going to make a picture.”“Good!” thought the little boy.And he waited for the teacherTo tell what to do.But the teacher didn’t say anything.She just walked around the room. When she came to the little boyShe asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?”“Yes,” said the little boy.“What are we going to make?”“I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher.“How shall I make it?” asked the little boy.“Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher.“And any color?” asked the little boy.“Any color,” said the teacher.And he began to make a red flower with a green stem. ~Helen Buckley, The Little Boy … I hate that I hesitated to reblog this just because I expect people to think it’s pretentious or melodramatic when it’s seriously real as fuck and I’ve witnessed it
Pull: bogleech:

lynati:

movemequotes:

Once a little boy went to school.One morningThe teacher said:“Today we are going to make a picture.”“Good!” thought the little boy.He liked to make all kinds;Lions and tigers,Chickens and cows,Trains and boats;And he took out his box of crayonsAnd began to draw.
But the teacher said, “Wait!”“It is not time to begin!”And she waited until everyone looked ready.“Now,” said the teacher,“We are going to make flowers.”“Good!” thought the little boy,He liked to make beautiful onesWith his pink and orange and blue crayons.But the teacher said “Wait!”“And I will show you how.”And it was red, with a green stem.“There,” said the teacher,“Now you may begin.”
The little boy looked at his teacher’s flowerThen he looked at his own flower.He liked his flower better than the teacher’sBut he did not say this.He just turned his paper over,And made a flower like the teacher’s.It was red, with a green stem.
On another dayThe teacher said:“Today we are going to make something with clay.”“Good!” thought the little boy;He liked clay.He could make all kinds of things with clay:Snakes and snowmen,Elephants and mice,Cars and trucksAnd he began to pull and pinchHis ball of clay.
But the teacher said, “Wait!”“It is not time to begin!”And she waited until everyone looked ready.“Now,” said the teacher,“We are going to make a dish.”“Good!” thought the little boy,He liked to make dishes.And he began to make someThat were all shapes and sizes.
But the teacher said “Wait!”“And I will show you how.”And she showed everyone how to makeOne deep dish.“There,” said the teacher,“Now you may begin.”
The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish;Then he looked at his own.He liked his better than the teacher’sBut he did not say this.He just rolled his clay into a big ball againAnd made a dish like the teacher’s.It was a deep dish.
And pretty soonThe little boy learned to wait,And to watchAnd to make things just like the teacher.And pretty soonHe didn’t make things of his own anymore.
Then it happenedThat the little boy and his familyMoved to another house,In another city,And the little boyHad to go to another school.
The teacher said:“Today we are going to make a picture.”“Good!” thought the little boy.And he waited for the teacherTo tell what to do.But the teacher didn’t say anything.She just walked around the room.
When she came to the little boyShe asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?”“Yes,” said the little boy.“What are we going to make?”“I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher.“How shall I make it?” asked the little boy.“Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher.“And any color?” asked the little boy.“Any color,” said the teacher.And he began to make a red flower with a green stem.
~Helen Buckley, The Little Boy

…


I hate that I hesitated to reblog this just because I expect people to think it’s pretentious or melodramatic when it’s seriously real as fuck and I’ve witnessed it

bogleech: lynati: movemequotes: Once a little boy went to school.One morningThe teacher said:“Today we are going to make a picture.”“G...

Pull: Mf can’t pull out his own driveway by The_Tank_ MORE MEMES
Pull: Mf can’t pull out his own driveway by The_Tank_
MORE MEMES

Mf can’t pull out his own driveway by The_Tank_ MORE MEMES

Pull: databuffering: I’m in love with doom eternal but can’t pull myself away long enough to draw anything good
Pull: databuffering:

I’m in love with doom eternal but can’t pull myself away long enough to draw anything good

databuffering: I’m in love with doom eternal but can’t pull myself away long enough to draw anything good

Pull: Don’t pull any what?
Pull: Don’t pull any what?

Don’t pull any what?

Pull: Developers approving pull requests
Pull: Developers approving pull requests

Developers approving pull requests

Pull: Pull up on site by jamestheman45 MORE MEMES
Pull: Pull up on site by jamestheman45
MORE MEMES

Pull up on site by jamestheman45 MORE MEMES

Pull: No time to waste here pull it out
Pull: No time to waste here pull it out

No time to waste here pull it out

Pull: 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
Pull: 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...

Pull: artbymoga: onefitmodel: rootandrock: timeofthedecade: bigdaddyg-wil: this guy pulled out his dick in front of like 5 billion feminist protestors holy shit Some context for the idiots claiming the women are overreacting: This occurred at a Slut Walk. For those not familiar with it, the Slut Walk is basically a peaceful protest seeking to eliminate the rape apologism so prevalent in society. The basis is that no woman is “asking for it,” with “it” being rape. It’s not a feminist protest; it’s a human rights protest. Many of the protesters, as you can probably imagine, have dealt with sexual harassment or rape in their own lives. Many of them have structured their daily activities to avoid being raped. The gathering is supposed to be a place for them to feel empowered and able to recover in the company of those who understand what they’ve been through or who will not blame them. Nobody at a Slut Walk will tell a survivor that it’s her fault. They will not ask what she was wearing to provoke her attacker. Nobody will say she had too much to drink. Nobody will tell the men in the group that they are inherently rapists themselves, and nobody will tell a male survivor that his experience “wasn’t really rape.” Then, this fellow comes along. He sees this gathering of survivors and their supporters, and to him, it’s a joke. He sees feminazis. He sees girls who are taking “a bit of fun” too seriously. And what does he do? He exposes himself to this group of survivors and supporters - some of whom are, in fact, underage. He sexually harasses literally hundreds of women in one act. Aside from public indecency, there was cruel intent in his actions. He wanted to make them uncomfortable. He wanted to “put them in their place.” Other photos from this event show him flipping the protesters off and laughing at their anger. And there are still people defending his actions. There are those who still feel like these women were asking for itand that they deserved to be harassed for trying to claim they weren’t. There are those who feel that women should be taught a lesson this way, and they applaud this man’s actions. So no, he didn’t pull out his dick in front of feminist protesters. He harassed dozens - if not hundreds - of rape survivors. The reaction to his actions alone outline the purpose of the Slut Walk. For those of you still doubting whether what he did was wrong (and I do wonder if there’s something wrong with you, if you have doubts), let me give you an analogous situation. Imagine a gathering of black civil rights activists. Imagine Martin Luther King Jr., Malcolm X, Rosa Parks, and all their colleagues gathered together to demonstrate that being black did not make them lesser people. That being black and living in the South did not mean they were “asking” to be the target of hate crimes. And at this gathering, a white man decides he should teach them a lesson by pointedly hanging a noose from the nearest tree and laughing at their anger. And other white men, laughing along with him, commend him for taking these activists down a peg. That’s what happened here. It’s not an “OMG, I can’t believe he did that!” moment. It’s an “OMG, there are people who think this is okay” moment. And the fact is, it’s not. It never will be. And that’s the take home message of this ridiculous rant I’ve written up. And this is why we still need feminism. this made me cry holy shit That was hands down one of the most well-written and beautiful responses I have had the pleasure to read. Thank you
Pull: artbymoga:

onefitmodel:

rootandrock:

timeofthedecade:

bigdaddyg-wil:

this guy pulled out his dick in front of like 5 billion feminist protestors holy shit

Some context for the idiots claiming the women are overreacting:
This occurred at a Slut Walk. For those not familiar with it, the Slut Walk is basically a peaceful protest seeking to eliminate the rape apologism so prevalent in society. The basis is that no woman is “asking for it,” with “it” being rape. It’s not a feminist protest; it’s a human rights protest.
Many of the protesters, as you can probably imagine, have dealt with sexual harassment or rape in their own lives. Many of them have structured their daily activities to avoid being raped. The gathering is supposed to be a place for them to feel empowered and able to recover in the company of those who understand what they’ve been through or who will not blame them.
Nobody at a Slut Walk will tell a survivor that it’s her fault. They will not ask what she was wearing to provoke her attacker. Nobody will say she had too much to drink. Nobody will tell the men in the group that they are inherently rapists themselves, and nobody will tell a male survivor that his experience “wasn’t really rape.”
Then, this fellow comes along. He sees this gathering of survivors and their supporters, and to him, it’s a joke. He sees feminazis. He sees girls who are taking “a bit of fun” too seriously. And what does he do? He exposes himself to this group of survivors and supporters - some of whom are, in fact, underage.
He sexually harasses literally hundreds of women in one act. Aside from public indecency, there was cruel intent in his actions. He wanted to make them uncomfortable. He wanted to “put them in their place.” Other photos from this event show him flipping the protesters off and laughing at their anger.
And there are still people defending his actions. There are those who still feel like these women were asking for itand that they deserved to be harassed for trying to claim they weren’t. There are those who feel that women should be taught a lesson this way, and they applaud this man’s actions.
So no, he didn’t pull out his dick in front of feminist protesters. He harassed dozens - if not hundreds - of rape survivors. The reaction to his actions alone outline the purpose of the Slut Walk.
For those of you still doubting whether what he did was wrong (and I do wonder if there’s something wrong with you, if you have doubts), let me give you an analogous situation. Imagine a gathering of black civil rights activists. Imagine Martin Luther King Jr., Malcolm X, Rosa Parks, and all their colleagues gathered together to demonstrate that being black did not make them lesser people. That being black and living in the South did not mean they were “asking” to be the target of hate crimes.
And at this gathering, a white man decides he should teach them a lesson by pointedly hanging a noose from the nearest tree and laughing at their anger. And other white men, laughing along with him, commend him for taking these activists down a peg.
That’s what happened here. It’s not an “OMG, I can’t believe he did that!” moment. It’s an “OMG, there are people who think this is okay” moment. And the fact is, it’s not. It never will be. And that’s the take home message of this ridiculous rant I’ve written up.

And this is why we still need feminism.

this made me cry holy shit

That was hands down one of the most well-written and beautiful responses I have had the pleasure to read. Thank you

artbymoga: onefitmodel: rootandrock: timeofthedecade: bigdaddyg-wil: this guy pulled out his dick in front of like 5 billion feminis...

Pull: lolzandtrollz: Pull Yourself Together
Pull: lolzandtrollz:

Pull Yourself Together

lolzandtrollz: Pull Yourself Together

Pull: Beware of infiltrators. by Jamie_Pull_That_Up MORE MEMES
Pull: Beware of infiltrators. by Jamie_Pull_That_Up
MORE MEMES

Beware of infiltrators. by Jamie_Pull_That_Up MORE MEMES

Pull: Pull request: Delete duplicate word “long long”
Pull: Pull request: Delete duplicate word “long long”

Pull request: Delete duplicate word “long long”

Pull: When an average person uses big words. by Jamie_Pull_That_Up MORE MEMES
Pull: When an average person uses big words. by Jamie_Pull_That_Up
MORE MEMES

When an average person uses big words. by Jamie_Pull_That_Up MORE MEMES

Pull: Imma pull up to this bank
Pull: Imma pull up to this bank

Imma pull up to this bank

Pull: Imma pull up to this bank
Pull: Imma pull up to this bank

Imma pull up to this bank

Pull: thebaconsandwichofregret: asexual-not-asexual-detective: Am I the only one who thinks that hitting a kid and abuse are different things? Like, if I ever had a kid, I wouldn’t spank their ass raw or something like that. But a bop on the mouth or the ear pull or a smack upside the head? Yea. Those are behavior modifiers. Except they’re not. The studies done by the trained psychologists in this joke show that little kids don’t associate being hit with the thing they’ve done wrong. Very small children only understand consequences that are directly caused by the thing they did. Steal a biscuit, biscuit tastes good. Then for no reason mummy hit me. Very different to stole a biscuit, now no biscuit after dinner because I stole a biscuit. And they also show that when a child is old enough to understand why they are being hit that non-physical punishment is equally as effective and less mentally harmful in the long run. Do you know who benefits the most from hitting as a punishment? The parent. It gives a satisfaction rush. Parents do it because it makes them feel good. Basically kids have two stages: too young to understand why they are being hit so physical punishment is useless for anything other than teaching a child that bigger stronger people can hit you whenever they like (Which sounds like the same lesson you would learn from abuse) And the second stage is old enough to be reasoned with so many punishment options are available and you chose physical violence because it makes *you* feel better, which is an abusive action. The only time a person should ever use violence against another human being, of any age, is to stop that person from being violent themselves.
Pull: thebaconsandwichofregret:
asexual-not-asexual-detective:

Am I the only one who thinks that hitting a kid and abuse are different things? Like, if I ever had a kid, I wouldn’t spank their ass raw or something like that. But a bop on the mouth or the ear pull or a smack upside the head? Yea. Those are behavior modifiers. 

Except they’re not. 
The studies done by the trained psychologists in this joke show that little kids don’t associate being hit with the thing they’ve done wrong. Very small children only understand consequences that are directly caused by the thing they did. Steal a biscuit, biscuit tastes good. Then for no reason mummy hit me. Very different to stole a biscuit, now no biscuit after dinner because I stole a biscuit.
And they also show that when a child is old enough to understand why they are being hit that non-physical punishment is equally as effective and less mentally harmful in the long run. 
Do you know who benefits the most from hitting as a punishment? The parent. It gives a satisfaction rush. Parents do it because it makes them feel good. 
Basically kids have two stages: too young to understand why they are being hit so physical punishment is useless for anything other than teaching a child that bigger stronger people can hit you whenever they like (Which sounds like the same lesson you would learn from abuse)
And the second stage is old enough to be reasoned with so many punishment options are available and you chose physical violence because it makes *you* feel better, which is an abusive action. 
The only time a person should ever use violence against another human being, of any age, is to stop that person from being violent themselves.

thebaconsandwichofregret: asexual-not-asexual-detective: Am I the only one who thinks that hitting a kid and abuse are different things?...