dying


                    
                    
                

                

                

            

        
    







            

            
            

                

                    
                

                

                    

                        


	

	
    

        🔥 | Latest
    

    
    

        

        
        

            







    dying: Dying Swan… Confused Pigeon
    

        
        
        
        
        
        
        
        
    

    

        

            
            

                
                dying: Dying Swan… Confused Pigeon
                
            

            
            
Dying Swan… Confused Pigeon

            
            
        

    



        

        
        

            






        

        
        

            







    dying: To those going out despite corona not dying down…
    

        
        
        
        
        
        
        
        
    

    

        

            
            

                
                dying: To those going out despite corona not dying down…
                
            

            
            
To those going out despite corona not dying down…

            
            
        

    



        

        
        

            







    dying: 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

    

        
        
        
        
        
        
        
        
    

    

        

            
            

                
                dying: 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...

            
            
        

    



        

        
        

            







    dying: (2D animation dying sounds)
    

        
        
        
        
        
        
        
        
    

    

        

            
            

                
                dying: (2D animation dying sounds)
                
            

            
            
(2D animation dying sounds)

            
            
        

    



        

        
        

            







    dying: Worth dying for
    

        
        
        
        
        
        
        
        
    

    

        

            
            

                
                dying: Worth dying for
                
            

            
            
Worth dying for

            
            
        

    



        

        
        

            







    dying: Dying request
    

        
        
        
        
        
        
        
        
    

    

        

            
            

                
                dying: Dying request
                
            

            
            
Dying request

            
            
        

    



        

        
        

            






        

        
        

            







    dying: georgetheblob-art:

🌸missed you🌸(just because ur wife can come right back into the world as many times as she wants to or needs to doesn’t mean it’s any easier to deal with her dying)
    

        
        
        
        
        
        
        
        
    

    

        

            
            

                
                dying: georgetheblob-art:

🌸missed you🌸(just because ur wife can come right back into the world as many times as she wants to or needs to doesn’t mean it’s any easier to deal with her dying)
                
            

            
            
georgetheblob-art:

🌸missed you🌸(just because ur wife can come right back into the world as many times as she wants to or needs to doesn’...

            
            
        

    



        

        
        

            






        

        
        

            







    dying: I’m not dying for Wall Street by 2DeadMoose
MORE MEMES
    

        
        
        
        
        
        
        
        
    

    

        

            
            

                
                dying: I’m not dying for Wall Street by 2DeadMoose
MORE MEMES
                
            

            
            
I’m not dying for Wall Street by 2DeadMoose
MORE MEMES

            
            
        

    



        

        
        

            







    dying: I’m dying from Ligma
    

        
        
        
        
        
        
        
        
    

    

        

            
            

                
                dying: I’m dying from Ligma
                
            

            
            
I’m dying from Ligma

            
            
        

    



        

        
        

            







    dying: We dying again?
    

        
        
        
        
        
        
        
        
    

    

        

            
            

                
                dying: We dying again?
                
            

            
            
We dying again?

            
            
        

    



        

        
        

            







    dying: 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

    

        
        
        
        
        
        
        
        
    

    

        

            
            

                
                dying: 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...

            
            
        

    



        

        
        

            







    dying: *We’re losing him! We’re lo-… He’s dying!!* by BelieveWagons
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                dying: *We’re losing him! We’re lo-… He’s dying!!* by BelieveWagons
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*We’re losing him! We’re lo-… He’s dying!!* by BelieveWagons
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    dying: *We’re losing him! We’re lo-… He’s dying!!*
    

        
        
        
        
        
        
        
        
    

    

        

            
            

                
                dying: *We’re losing him! We’re lo-… He’s dying!!*
                
            

            
            
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    dying: Had me dying by bkrus187
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Had me dying by bkrus187
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    dying: theseriouscynic:
iamcon-fu-sion:

archivistofnerddom:

shipperwolf1:

brunhiddensmusings:

fierceawakening:

guyveranimefan87:

eric-coldfire:

eldritchgentleman:

cruxofargon:

the-critical-feminist:

cishetwhiteoppressor:

Finally, a sane celebrity who doesn’t bend the knee to feminist bullshit.
Source

My god I love her.

I know people are gonna get salty af about this but by God she’s RIGHT.
When Brad Pitt did Fight Club, he was cutting weight for every single scene to maintain his physique at 155. I’ve you’ve ever cut weight, you know how horrible that must have been. He did it because they needed a “look”. 
Changing Tatum said his Magic Mike body doesn’t last for more than five days. He starved down and dehydrated his already fit physique for a “look”.
The male soldiers on Spartacus: Blood and Sand were eating pretty much chicken and veggies for every meal to maintain a “look”. 
Why is this such a big deal? Because all these characters are considered physical goals for men. These are actual unobtainable physical standards for men. Male body image issues get swept under the rug so often that some people don’t even think they exist.

You want proof? Just check out that scene in Captain America: First Avenger where Cap just transformed into that beautiful beefcake of a man. Agent Carter’s actress just HAD to touch them muscles, it was completely unscripted. 

Chris Evans had to wear shirts so small they physically hurt, and he dislocated a shoulder during the helicopter scene in Civil War. But who cares, girls got to wet their panties watching Captain America flex.

If we are talking about unrealistic physical standards of male fitness given to us by movies, I would like to mention Hugh “Wolverine” Jackman here.
Yeah, he is ripped, isn’t he?
Well, it is true, but to get that kind of definition, he went through 36 hour period of dehydration, which caused him to temporarily lose 10 pounds of “water weight”. 
Thus during the fight scene he was filming, he was a hair breadth from blacking out whole time, just to look unrealistically muscular.
As he said during interview with Steven Colbert, “If You go three days without water, You will die. Then, when You are halfway there they shout ‘Roll it!”
It’s the same with professional bodybuilders who get into periods of extreme fasting and dehydration to lower their fat-to-muscle ratio to inhuman levels, all in hopes of making their muscle definition a bit better.
According to experts, healthy body fat percentage for a healthy male ranges from 8% to 20%, depending on height, lifestyle and numerous other variables. 
Fitness model and professional bodybuilder Helmut Strebl also known as “World’s Most Shredded Man” as he supposedly managed to get his body fat percentage below 5%…
… But only when he partakes in competitions, since it is not humanly possible to live with such low fat percentage of one’s body for longer periods of time.
I mean, yeah, he keeps a draconian training regime, as well as a very strict diet even off-season, but looks much more human then…
There are documented cases of incredibly fit and muscular bodybuilders fainting on the stage in the middle of their flexing routines, as well as several who outright died, because of cardiac arrest caused by their blood becoming too thick, due to long dehydration…
And let’s not forget about Muscle Dysmorphia, colloquially known as “Megarexia” or “Bigarexia”.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Muscle_dysmorphia
Yeah, it’s a thing, but it’s barely talked about, since it’s apparently not manly to admit to having problems like that, which also creates problems with researching this particular disorder…
So… Thanks Hollywood?


I had no idea that most people who looked like this are dehydrated until I read posts like this.

dehydrated to the point theyre about a day away from actual organ failureokay so chris hemsworth is a absolute god of a man, but hollywood says ‘thats not good enough’ and for the thor movie he has to spend several days having the juice squeezed from his body untill he looses about a gallon of whats supposed to be him so that he can do 2 days of shooting scenes without his shirt, after which he has to have recovery time before he is hospitalized because i am not joking about ‘one day away from organ failure’thats the benchmark- look at chris hemsworth and process that he is told he isnt suitable for a shirtless scene without prepping for three days and nearly fainting

real feminism acknowledges the unhealthy standards that men are held to. radfems brush them off as non-existent 
guys, feminism is for you, too. it’s for all of us.



Unrealistic body images helps no one and actively hurts men too!!

since the discussion of that they put henry cavill through for the witcher is floating around my blog, i want to add this too,.
one of the reasons producers get away with this in men and no one criticizes it is because we are fed the lie that this body type is 1) attainable and 2) healthy.
We know starving women down to skinniness is unhealthy, but you see an overmuscled man and you don’t immediately think dehydration. 

Bruh I love attractive people but I don’t need nobody DYING just so I can swoon for 5 seconds. For fucks sake.

    

        
        
        
        
        
        
        
        
    

    

        

            
            

                
                dying: theseriouscynic:
iamcon-fu-sion:

archivistofnerddom:

shipperwolf1:

brunhiddensmusings:

fierceawakening:

guyveranimefan87:

eric-coldfire:

eldritchgentleman:

cruxofargon:

the-critical-feminist:

cishetwhiteoppressor:

Finally, a sane celebrity who doesn’t bend the knee to feminist bullshit.
Source

My god I love her.

I know people are gonna get salty af about this but by God she’s RIGHT.
When Brad Pitt did Fight Club, he was cutting weight for every single scene to maintain his physique at 155. I’ve you’ve ever cut weight, you know how horrible that must have been. He did it because they needed a “look”. 
Changing Tatum said his Magic Mike body doesn’t last for more than five days. He starved down and dehydrated his already fit physique for a “look”.
The male soldiers on Spartacus: Blood and Sand were eating pretty much chicken and veggies for every meal to maintain a “look”. 
Why is this such a big deal? Because all these characters are considered physical goals for men. These are actual unobtainable physical standards for men. Male body image issues get swept under the rug so often that some people don’t even think they exist.

You want proof? Just check out that scene in Captain America: First Avenger where Cap just transformed into that beautiful beefcake of a man. Agent Carter’s actress just HAD to touch them muscles, it was completely unscripted. 

Chris Evans had to wear shirts so small they physically hurt, and he dislocated a shoulder during the helicopter scene in Civil War. But who cares, girls got to wet their panties watching Captain America flex.

If we are talking about unrealistic physical standards of male fitness given to us by movies, I would like to mention Hugh “Wolverine” Jackman here.
Yeah, he is ripped, isn’t he?
Well, it is true, but to get that kind of definition, he went through 36 hour period of dehydration, which caused him to temporarily lose 10 pounds of “water weight”. 
Thus during the fight scene he was filming, he was a hair breadth from blacking out whole time, just to look unrealistically muscular.
As he said during interview with Steven Colbert, “If You go three days without water, You will die. Then, when You are halfway there they shout ‘Roll it!”
It’s the same with professional bodybuilders who get into periods of extreme fasting and dehydration to lower their fat-to-muscle ratio to inhuman levels, all in hopes of making their muscle definition a bit better.
According to experts, healthy body fat percentage for a healthy male ranges from 8% to 20%, depending on height, lifestyle and numerous other variables. 
Fitness model and professional bodybuilder Helmut Strebl also known as “World’s Most Shredded Man” as he supposedly managed to get his body fat percentage below 5%…
… But only when he partakes in competitions, since it is not humanly possible to live with such low fat percentage of one’s body for longer periods of time.
I mean, yeah, he keeps a draconian training regime, as well as a very strict diet even off-season, but looks much more human then…
There are documented cases of incredibly fit and muscular bodybuilders fainting on the stage in the middle of their flexing routines, as well as several who outright died, because of cardiac arrest caused by their blood becoming too thick, due to long dehydration…
And let’s not forget about Muscle Dysmorphia, colloquially known as “Megarexia” or “Bigarexia”.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Muscle_dysmorphia
Yeah, it’s a thing, but it’s barely talked about, since it’s apparently not manly to admit to having problems like that, which also creates problems with researching this particular disorder…
So… Thanks Hollywood?


I had no idea that most people who looked like this are dehydrated until I read posts like this.

dehydrated to the point theyre about a day away from actual organ failureokay so chris hemsworth is a absolute god of a man, but hollywood says ‘thats not good enough’ and for the thor movie he has to spend several days having the juice squeezed from his body untill he looses about a gallon of whats supposed to be him so that he can do 2 days of shooting scenes without his shirt, after which he has to have recovery time before he is hospitalized because i am not joking about ‘one day away from organ failure’thats the benchmark- look at chris hemsworth and process that he is told he isnt suitable for a shirtless scene without prepping for three days and nearly fainting

real feminism acknowledges the unhealthy standards that men are held to. radfems brush them off as non-existent 
guys, feminism is for you, too. it’s for all of us.



Unrealistic body images helps no one and actively hurts men too!!

since the discussion of that they put henry cavill through for the witcher is floating around my blog, i want to add this too,.
one of the reasons producers get away with this in men and no one criticizes it is because we are fed the lie that this body type is 1) attainable and 2) healthy.
We know starving women down to skinniness is unhealthy, but you see an overmuscled man and you don’t immediately think dehydration. 

Bruh I love attractive people but I don’t need nobody DYING just so I can swoon for 5 seconds. For fucks sake.

                
            

            
            
theseriouscynic:
iamcon-fu-sion:

archivistofnerddom:

shipperwolf1:

brunhiddensmusings:

fierceawakening:

guyveranimefan87:

eric-cold...

            
            
        

    



        

        
        

            







    dying: meara-eldestofthemall:

girlactionfigure:

Eugene Lazowski was a Polish doctor who saved thousands of Jews during the Holocaust by creating a fake epidemic that kept the Germans away from their town.
Eugene received his medical degree before the war started. After Germany invaded Poland in 1939, he became a military doctor with the Polish resistance. He was imprisoned in a German POW camp for his anti-Nazi activities. After his release in 1942, Eugene moved to a small town, Rozwadow, with his wife and young daughter. There he reunited with a friend from medical school, Stanislaw Matulewicz.Stanislaw made a medical discovery that seemed minor but proved monumental. He found that healthy people could be injected with a typhoid vaccine that would make them test positive for the deadly disease without actually contracting it.Eugene hatched a brilliant plan. He knew that Germans tended to be germaphobes and were terrified of typhus, a contagious bacterial disease. When a Polish town was found to be infected with typhus, the German occupiers would quarantine the entire area. Eugene also knew that by implementing his plan, he risked the death penalty, which applied to Poles who helped Jews. Undeterred by the risk, Eugene injected thousands of people with typhus and sent blood samples to the Germans to report the “epidemic.” He made sure to inject non-Jews as well as Jews, so the Nazis wouldn’t just come in and massacre all the Jews in town. Because it appeared to be a widespread epidemic, the Nazis stayed clear of Rozwadow. By late 1943, the Gestapo was suspicious. The entire town was supposedly infested with typhus, yet nobody was dying. Eugene learned a German medical team was being sent to the quarantined area. He frantically approached the oldest and sickest-looking people in town and asked them to wait in a squalid shack. When the visitors arrived, the villagers welcomed them with a party - featuring large quantities of vodka. After the celebration, the German doctors were taken to the “patients.” Eugene said, “I told them to be my guest and examine the patients, but to be careful because the Polish are dirty and full of lice, which transfer typhus.”The doctors quickly took blood samples without conducting full examinations of the patients. When the samples tested positive for typhus, the German health authorities were satisfied the epidemic was still raging. They never came back.After the war, Eugene didn’t tell anybody of his heroic acts, not even his wife. It wasn’t until a documentary was produced in 2000 about the fake epidemic that Eugene received the accolades he deserved. He passed away in 2006 at age 92.For risking his his life to save the Jews of Rozwadow, Poland, we honor Dr. Eugene Lazowski as this week’s Thursday Hero. Accidental Talmudist

It’s important to remember that not all heroes wear tights and a cape.

    

        
        
        
        
        
        
        
        
    

    

        

            
            

                
                dying: meara-eldestofthemall:

girlactionfigure:

Eugene Lazowski was a Polish doctor who saved thousands of Jews during the Holocaust by creating a fake epidemic that kept the Germans away from their town.
Eugene received his medical degree before the war started. After Germany invaded Poland in 1939, he became a military doctor with the Polish resistance. He was imprisoned in a German POW camp for his anti-Nazi activities. After his release in 1942, Eugene moved to a small town, Rozwadow, with his wife and young daughter. There he reunited with a friend from medical school, Stanislaw Matulewicz.Stanislaw made a medical discovery that seemed minor but proved monumental. He found that healthy people could be injected with a typhoid vaccine that would make them test positive for the deadly disease without actually contracting it.Eugene hatched a brilliant plan. He knew that Germans tended to be germaphobes and were terrified of typhus, a contagious bacterial disease. When a Polish town was found to be infected with typhus, the German occupiers would quarantine the entire area. Eugene also knew that by implementing his plan, he risked the death penalty, which applied to Poles who helped Jews. Undeterred by the risk, Eugene injected thousands of people with typhus and sent blood samples to the Germans to report the “epidemic.” He made sure to inject non-Jews as well as Jews, so the Nazis wouldn’t just come in and massacre all the Jews in town. Because it appeared to be a widespread epidemic, the Nazis stayed clear of Rozwadow. By late 1943, the Gestapo was suspicious. The entire town was supposedly infested with typhus, yet nobody was dying. Eugene learned a German medical team was being sent to the quarantined area. He frantically approached the oldest and sickest-looking people in town and asked them to wait in a squalid shack. When the visitors arrived, the villagers welcomed them with a party - featuring large quantities of vodka. After the celebration, the German doctors were taken to the “patients.” Eugene said, “I told them to be my guest and examine the patients, but to be careful because the Polish are dirty and full of lice, which transfer typhus.”The doctors quickly took blood samples without conducting full examinations of the patients. When the samples tested positive for typhus, the German health authorities were satisfied the epidemic was still raging. They never came back.After the war, Eugene didn’t tell anybody of his heroic acts, not even his wife. It wasn’t until a documentary was produced in 2000 about the fake epidemic that Eugene received the accolades he deserved. He passed away in 2006 at age 92.For risking his his life to save the Jews of Rozwadow, Poland, we honor Dr. Eugene Lazowski as this week’s Thursday Hero. Accidental Talmudist

It’s important to remember that not all heroes wear tights and a cape.

                
            

            
            
meara-eldestofthemall:

girlactionfigure:

Eugene Lazowski was a Polish doctor who saved thousands of Jews during the Holocaust by creati...

            
            
        

    



        

        
        

            






        

        
        

            







    dying: jayofolympus:
valsore:


silver-millennial:

mandalorianreynolds:


icantwritegood:

3hunnitcreditscore:

chantosakura:

cliomancer:

bunjywunjy:

rjzimmerman:

From the Facebook pages of Project Coyote/Classic Cars USA:
Last week on my way to work in the early morning, a coyote darted in front of my car and I hit it. I heard a crunch and believed I ran over and killed it. Upon stopping at a traffic light by my work, a construction woman notified me that there was in fact a coyote still embedded in my car. When I got out to look, this poor little guy was looking up and blinking at me. I notified Alberta fish and wildlife enforcement right away who came to rescue him. Miraculously, he was freed and had minimal injuries despite having hitched a ride from Airdrie to Calgary at highway speeds! Their biologist checked him over and gave him the good to go. They released him in Kananaskis. Clearly mother nature has other plans for this special little guy!-Georgie Knox

FOOD CHAIN, BABYYYyYyy

Plot-essential NPC.


I’m dying at the fact that he looks only like…mildly perturbed and inconvenienced by this at most.



“Well shit, this is not how I expected to spend my day”

the coyote on the highway like



I feel slightly bad for laughing so much…
But, uh, luck of a Trickster God indeed;



The roadrunner got away this time

Anyone can accidentally hit an animal. But you FUCKING STOP TO CHECK ON IT. Maybe it´s not dead, Maybe it´s injured and needs help, maybe he´s suffering. What the fuck is wrong with people! Not funny, not funny at all.



Sometimes it’s just not feasible to stop. If you’re on the highway or somewhere else where it would be dangerous to stop, then you just have to keep going and hope the animal is okay

    

        
        
        
        
        
        
        
        
    

    

        

            
            

                
                dying: jayofolympus:
valsore:


silver-millennial:

mandalorianreynolds:


icantwritegood:

3hunnitcreditscore:

chantosakura:

cliomancer:

bunjywunjy:

rjzimmerman:

From the Facebook pages of Project Coyote/Classic Cars USA:
Last week on my way to work in the early morning, a coyote darted in front of my car and I hit it. I heard a crunch and believed I ran over and killed it. Upon stopping at a traffic light by my work, a construction woman notified me that there was in fact a coyote still embedded in my car. When I got out to look, this poor little guy was looking up and blinking at me. I notified Alberta fish and wildlife enforcement right away who came to rescue him. Miraculously, he was freed and had minimal injuries despite having hitched a ride from Airdrie to Calgary at highway speeds! Their biologist checked him over and gave him the good to go. They released him in Kananaskis. Clearly mother nature has other plans for this special little guy!-Georgie Knox

FOOD CHAIN, BABYYYyYyy

Plot-essential NPC.


I’m dying at the fact that he looks only like…mildly perturbed and inconvenienced by this at most.



“Well shit, this is not how I expected to spend my day”

the coyote on the highway like



I feel slightly bad for laughing so much…
But, uh, luck of a Trickster God indeed;



The roadrunner got away this time

Anyone can accidentally hit an animal. But you FUCKING STOP TO CHECK ON IT. Maybe it´s not dead, Maybe it´s injured and needs help, maybe he´s suffering. What the fuck is wrong with people! Not funny, not funny at all.



Sometimes it’s just not feasible to stop. If you’re on the highway or somewhere else where it would be dangerous to stop, then you just have to keep going and hope the animal is okay

                
            

            
            
jayofolympus:
valsore:


silver-millennial:

mandalorianreynolds:


icantwritegood:

3hunnitcreditscore:

chantosakura:

cliomancer:

bun...

            
            
        

    



        

        
        

            






        

        
        

            







    dying: castielific:
wolfinthethorns:
Honestly, in my work as a therapist, I’m seeing this A Lot, and tbh I still don’t have a satisfactory approach to it. A heavy dose of Existentialist “create your own Purpose” tempered with “when the plane’s going down, put your own oxygen mask on first”, but… yeah, there is no ethical way to work on individual emotional distress without acknowledging the systemic socioeconomic, geopolitical fuckery going on at the moment, and the sheer grief that comes with it.
I’m a guidance counselor/psychologist for teenagers and it’s getting really hard to motivate young people to work for a future they don’t believe in. 
 They look at ther future and see global warming, wwIII, unemployement, political unstability, poison in everything  they eat, the earth and animals dying all around them. 
I saw this video where someone was asking french teens in the 50s how they imagine the future would be. The war hadn’t been over for long and yet it was all positive with like peace and flying cars and such. Then they went and ask the same questions to nowadays teens and hell that was depressing. Some still had hope, but it was just that “well I hope I’ll have a nice house and maybe some kid” but there was such a hesitancy to it, like they didn’t dare to hope too much. 
People mock Greta Thunberg but what they don’t get is that when she said “you stole my dreams”, it was the truth. 
Young people don’t get to dream like they used to. They don’t dream anymore, they grief all that won’t be anymore and that’s just so fucking sad. 

    

        
        
        
        
        
        
        
        
    

    

        

            
            

                
                dying: castielific:
wolfinthethorns:
Honestly, in my work as a therapist, I’m seeing this A Lot, and tbh I still don’t have a satisfactory approach to it. A heavy dose of Existentialist “create your own Purpose” tempered with “when the plane’s going down, put your own oxygen mask on first”, but… yeah, there is no ethical way to work on individual emotional distress without acknowledging the systemic socioeconomic, geopolitical fuckery going on at the moment, and the sheer grief that comes with it.
I’m a guidance counselor/psychologist for teenagers and it’s getting really hard to motivate young people to work for a future they don’t believe in. 
 They look at ther future and see global warming, wwIII, unemployement, political unstability, poison in everything  they eat, the earth and animals dying all around them. 
I saw this video where someone was asking french teens in the 50s how they imagine the future would be. The war hadn’t been over for long and yet it was all positive with like peace and flying cars and such. Then they went and ask the same questions to nowadays teens and hell that was depressing. Some still had hope, but it was just that “well I hope I’ll have a nice house and maybe some kid” but there was such a hesitancy to it, like they didn’t dare to hope too much. 
People mock Greta Thunberg but what they don’t get is that when she said “you stole my dreams”, it was the truth. 
Young people don’t get to dream like they used to. They don’t dream anymore, they grief all that won’t be anymore and that’s just so fucking sad. 

                
            

            
            
castielific:
wolfinthethorns:
Honestly, in my work as a therapist, I’m seeing this A Lot, and tbh I still don’t have a satisfactory appro...

            
            
        

    



        

        
        

            







    dying: I’m dying by lovinlife9393
MORE MEMES
    

        
        
        
        
        
        
        
        
    

    

        

            
            

                
                dying: I’m dying by lovinlife9393
MORE MEMES
                
            

            
            
I’m dying by lovinlife9393
MORE MEMES

            
            
        

    



        

        
        

            







    dying: daily-meme:

Every 7 year old is dying rn
    

        
        
        
        
        
        
        
        
    

    

        

            
            

                
                dying: daily-meme:

Every 7 year old is dying rn
                
            

            
            
daily-meme:

Every 7 year old is dying rn

            
            
        

    



        

        
        

            






        

        
        

            







    dying: Dying is for the weak by SFLMSFLM
MORE MEMES
    

        
        
        
        
        
        
        
        
    

    

        

            
            

                
                dying: Dying is for the weak by SFLMSFLM
MORE MEMES
                
            

            
            
Dying is for the weak by SFLMSFLM
MORE MEMES

            
            
        

    



        

        
        

            







    dying: Dying is for the weak
    

        
        
        
        
        
        
        
        
    

    

        

            
            

                
                dying: Dying is for the weak
                
            

            
            
Dying is for the weak

            
            
        

    



        

        
        

            






        

        
        

            







    dying: feniczoroark:

mandalorerose:
I’M DYING SEND HELP


@randomnightlord
    

        
        
        
        
        
        
        
        
    

    

        

            
            

                
                dying: feniczoroark:

mandalorerose:
I’M DYING SEND HELP


@randomnightlord
                
            

            
            
feniczoroark:

mandalorerose:
I’M DYING SEND HELP


@randomnightlord

            
            
        

    



        

        
        

            







    dying: Meta-memes always follow when their standard use is dying out so its rather fitting
    

        
        
        
        
        
        
        
        
    

    

        

            
            

                
                dying: Meta-memes always follow when their standard use is dying out so its rather fitting
                
            

            
            
Meta-memes always follow when their standard use is dying out so its rather fitting

            
            
        

    



        

        
        

            







    dying: spooky mistress misandry
 @hannahtraining
 Ain't that the fucking truth
 Me: "l feel like my life is pointless
 Therapist: "Why?"
 Me: "lmpending fascism and climate
 change mean I probably won't live to
 see 60,'"
 Therapist: "Are you sure thats
 rational?
 Me: *looks at camera like Jim on The
 Office*
 kate wagner@mcmansionhell
 this point in history sure is a really wild time to be
 trying to manage mental illness
 Show this thread
 5:28 PM 14 Oct 18
castielific:

wolfinthethorns:
Honestly, in my work as a therapist, I’m seeing this A Lot, and tbh I still don’t have a satisfactory approach to it. A heavy dose of Existentialist “create your own Purpose” tempered with “when the plane’s going down, put your own oxygen mask on first”, but… yeah, there is no ethical way to work on individual emotional distress without acknowledging the systemic socioeconomic, geopolitical fuckery going on at the moment, and the sheer grief that comes with it.
I’m a guidance counselor/psychologist for teenagers and it’s getting really hard to motivate young people to work for a future they don’t believe in. 
 They look at ther future and see global warming, wwIII, unemployement, political unstability, poison in everything  they eat, the earth and animals dying all around them. 
I saw this video where someone was asking french teens in the 50s how they imagine the future would be. The war hadn’t been over for long and yet it was all positive with like peace and flying cars and such. Then they went and ask the same questions to nowadays teens and hell that was depressing. Some still had hope, but it was just that “well I hope I’ll have a nice house and maybe some kid” but there was such a hesitancy to it, like they didn’t dare to hope too much. 
People mock Greta Thunberg but what they don’t get is that when she said “you stole my dreams”, it was the truth. 
Young people don’t get to dream like they used to. They don’t dream anymore, they grief all that won’t be anymore and that’s just so fucking sad. 

    

        
        
        
        
        
        
        
        
    

    

        

            
            

                
                dying: spooky mistress misandry
 @hannahtraining
 Ain't that the fucking truth
 Me: "l feel like my life is pointless
 Therapist: "Why?"
 Me: "lmpending fascism and climate
 change mean I probably won't live to
 see 60,'"
 Therapist: "Are you sure thats
 rational?
 Me: *looks at camera like Jim on The
 Office*
 kate wagner@mcmansionhell
 this point in history sure is a really wild time to be
 trying to manage mental illness
 Show this thread
 5:28 PM 14 Oct 18
castielific:

wolfinthethorns:
Honestly, in my work as a therapist, I’m seeing this A Lot, and tbh I still don’t have a satisfactory approach to it. A heavy dose of Existentialist “create your own Purpose” tempered with “when the plane’s going down, put your own oxygen mask on first”, but… yeah, there is no ethical way to work on individual emotional distress without acknowledging the systemic socioeconomic, geopolitical fuckery going on at the moment, and the sheer grief that comes with it.
I’m a guidance counselor/psychologist for teenagers and it’s getting really hard to motivate young people to work for a future they don’t believe in. 
 They look at ther future and see global warming, wwIII, unemployement, political unstability, poison in everything  they eat, the earth and animals dying all around them. 
I saw this video where someone was asking french teens in the 50s how they imagine the future would be. The war hadn’t been over for long and yet it was all positive with like peace and flying cars and such. Then they went and ask the same questions to nowadays teens and hell that was depressing. Some still had hope, but it was just that “well I hope I’ll have a nice house and maybe some kid” but there was such a hesitancy to it, like they didn’t dare to hope too much. 
People mock Greta Thunberg but what they don’t get is that when she said “you stole my dreams”, it was the truth. 
Young people don’t get to dream like they used to. They don’t dream anymore, they grief all that won’t be anymore and that’s just so fucking sad. 

                
            

            
            
castielific:

wolfinthethorns:
Honestly, in my work as a therapist, I’m seeing this A Lot, and tbh I still don’t have a satisfactory appr...

            
            
        

    



        

        
        

            






        

        
        

            






        

        
        

            






        

        
        

            






        

        
        

            






        

        
        

            






        

        
        

            






        

        
        

            






        

        
        

            







    dying: oni-with-an-iron-club:

mockwa:behave naturally


I’m dying.
    

        
        
        
        
        
        
        
        
    

    

        

            
            

                
                dying: oni-with-an-iron-club:

mockwa:behave naturally


I’m dying.
                
                

                
            

            
            
oni-with-an-iron-club:

mockwa:behave naturally


I’m dying.