TheFISH!

gallusrostromegalus:
existentialterror:
captainlordauditor:
amuseoffyre:
shadow-daughter:
ruffboijuliaburnsides:
lagt-duck:
villainous-queer:
idhren:
fantasyboudicca:
sighinastorm:
lemonsharks:
My ancestors, watching me dump an entire stick of cinnamon, two cloves, an allspice berry, and a generous grating of nutmeg into my tea, sweetened with white sugar and loaded with cream, while I sit in my clean warm house surrounded by books, 25+ outfits for different occasions, and 6 pairs of shoes, in a building heated so well I have the windows open in mid-autumn:
Our daughter prospers. We are proud of her. She has never labored in a field but knows riches we could not have imagined.
I like this so much better than the idea that our ancestors would be embarrassed or ashamed of us for being “soft” or some crap like that.
My ancestors, watching me stuff my face with fried chicken while studying: She eats like an imperial concubine and can afford to study like am imperial scholar. WE MADE IT
She eats like an imperial concubine and can afford to study like am imperial scholar
My ancestors watching me use my stand mixer while living in a small apartment and attending university: Thou hast kneadeth bread in FOUR hail marys??? FOUR??? And thou ist poor as a churchmouse, yet liveth in a fine cottage with four pounds butter and fresh berries in thy larder!! And two featherbeds! And thou attendeth the King’s college, as a lord!!
My ancestors being like:
Look at this fine young lady! She can paint she can sew and embrody, she sings and read
And without a wealthy father to pay for that, plus she is florid in the body! She doesn’t know hunger!
We did it!
Me: /wearily studying/
My Ancestors: TRULY SH— what? They? A little unorthodox, but reasonable I suppose. TRULY THEY PROSPER, FOR THEY LIVE IN A DWELLING WITH MANY ROOMS AND ONLY THEIR SPOUSE TO SHARE IT WITH! THEY HAVE DOGS WHO DO NOT PERFORM A FUNCTION! THEY HAVE MANY BOOKS AND DO NOT HAVE TO SPIN THEIR OWN YARN! THEY BATHE AT A WHIM WITH GENTLE SOAP FREE OF LYE! OUR DESCENDANT BRINGS HONOR AND PRIDE TO OUR LINEAGE!
Me: /yawns and sips my coffee/
My Ancestors: /cheer wildly/
Me: *hunched over at my desk nursing a headache.*
My Ancestors: “Truly, we prosper; see here, our infirm descendant need not even work on her poor days, but has the luxury to rest as she sees need! A doctor attends to her illnesses; her clothes are warm and free of pests; she cares for exotic and dangerous animals within her own home! We have found the height of luxury!”
Me: *treats myself to a pineapple and a bunch of bananas*
My Georgian ancestors: ZOOTH SHE HAS BOUGHT A PINEAPPLE! NOT MERELY BORROWED ONE! TRULY SHE HAS ACHIEVED FAR MORE THAN WE COULD KNOW!
me: [puts on warm socks and a blanket, is now warm regardless of the weather outside]
My impoverished Russian Jewish ancestors:
Originally posted by bramblywitch
Me: [learns to knit from youtube videos]
My ancestors: Our descendant, the heir to all our hopes and fears for a far-off future… She can buy fine clothes woven and knit by automatons, with but a fraction of a day’s earnings… and she does… she has so much free time to do as she pleases… and she uses some of that time to do what we did.
One woman from rural Poland, who died from smallpox in 1717 CE, a grandmother at 35: I knit roses and peonies into my and my children’s gloves… it wasn’t much extra work to dye the red, once I had already cleaned the wool and spun the yarn, and to knit in the designs… and I wasn’t a gifted knitter but I was a good knitter, and I thought, well, it might not make a difference to how warm the glove is, but it made the children happy and it made me happy. I liked to make things beautiful when I could.
Another woman, a peasant from what’s now France, who died from getting kicked by a mammoth in 8995 BCE: [Patting her on the back] I made my family’s clothes too. Every day my sister and I wove and wove and tended our children. We went out of our way to make the cloth lovely. Not a trace of it remains anywhere on earth now… But it mattered to us. And she might not know our names, or know it was us, but evidently, it matters to her too. She has so much beauty available to her, in every direction, and she wants to make it where we once made it.
[everyone sobbing and high-fiving each other.]
A man from Britain, 1104 CE, sitting at the trans-temporal telescope, reporting on my doings: She’s stopped knitting and now she’s playing minecraft.
The other ancestors: Ah, yes, the dream of building. We know this one well. What vision doth she design now?
Telescope man: Looks like… Some kind of floating temple?
Everyone: [Goes completely apeshit]
Me: studying Marine Biology, out in the middle of the Elkhorn slough absolutely fucking covered in the most foul-smelling mud and swamp scum you can imagine, deliriously happy as I spot a tell-tale bubbling in the mud. I jump off the small dock and drive my entire arm into the mud like a Mortal Kombat Character ripping someone’s heart out of their chest, and pull out a 4lb, two-foot long Geoduck Clam and hold it aloft, triumphant.
My Homminid ancestors, who were doing exactly this with much smaller clams 900,000 years ago: *going absolutely literally apeshit over my flawless technique and the marvelous size of my quarry* CLAM! CLAM! CLAM! CLAM! CLAM! CLAM! CLAM! WHOOOOOOOOO!!!!
She eats like an imperial concubine and can afford to study like an imperial scholar
She has so much beauty available to her, in every direction, and she wants to make it where we once made it.

walker-scobell:

i-need-glitter:

fuckyeahchinesefashion:
by 徐大花xudahua
WHAT THE FUCK

maroonracoon:

Drawing for you

reimenaashelyee:

My adaptation of the God of Arepo short story, which was originally up at ShortBox Comics Fair for charity. You can get a copy of the DRM-free ebook here for free - and I’d encourage you to donate to Mighty Writers or The Ministry of Stories in exchange.
Again it’s an honour to be drawing one of my favourite short stories ever. Thank you so much for the original authors for creating this story; and for everyone who bought a copy and donated to the above non-profits.

dailyanimatedgifs:

Shokugeki no Soma | 1x18
食戟のソーマ

cooliogirl101:

frenchsiren:
[Text description:
Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story.
END]
Richard Siken, the worm king’s lullaby; from “War Of Foxes”
—
[ID: Tumblr user @slowwshoww writes:
suzanne collins killing prim after everything katniss did to save her………. THATS how you write a story about the brutality and futility of war ma'am thats what we call a compelling and fucked up narrative yessums thats storytelling babes!!!!
Tumblr user @books—and-cleverness adds a quote from an interview with the author of the book:
« That was one of the first questions I asked her when we sat down: ‘Did you always know that [Prim] was going to die?’ And she said, ‘Oh yeah, of course, that’s the whole point.’ » (x)
END ID]
–
[ID: Tumblr user @orpheuslament:
i love tragedy i love circular narratives i love ppl who cannot escape their fate & characters that have been dead since the beginning
END ID]
—
[ID: Tumblr user @faustandfurious:
the worst fictional deaths are actually the ones you see coming, where there is enough foreshadowing that you have time to hope, against all odds, that the character will survive, even as you realise that there’s no way out this time, they’re not going to make it, this was always how it was going to end.
END ID]
–
[Text description:
Do you still believe myths
can save you? Foolish creature
Let me be clear: every version of this story
Ends with you being slaughtered.
END]
Tory Adkisson, Anecdote of the Pig
–
[ID: Tumblr user @sawasawako:
if you’re dead at the end of the story were you dead from the beginning. oh emily brontë we’re really in it now
END]
–
[Text description:
This was always going to happen. She’s been dead from the beginning.
END]
Aeschylus, The Oresteia
–
[Text description:
This is why people cry at the movies: because everybody’s doomed. No one in a movie can help themselves in any way. Their fate has already staked its claim on them from the moment they appear onscreen.
END]
John Darnielle, Wolf in White Van

Anonymous asked:

Now I'm imagining an au where the ppg had jiraiya as a jounin-sensei (maybe they got him as a punishment for hacking into the files or something?) and Minato got sakumo instead lol

cooliogirl101 answered:

Honestly would feel kind of bad for Jiraiya in that AU, dude would be way in over his head lol. Three terrifyingly competent teenage girls, each strong in their own way, intensely devoted to each other with unmatched teamwork skills, who aren’t afraid to break a few rules to get what they want? Nightmare situation for any new jounin sensei.

Not to mention I feel like Jiraiya’s the kind of person Kushina would feel the urge to prank constantly. His porn-writing tendencies/general way he treats women would definitely rub Mikoto the wrong way, and given that Mikoto’s usually the one who holds Kushina back from going too far in her pranks, this would equal double the amount of pranks for Jiraiya. Reina would probably end up being the most sympathetic one because she can see under all his bluster, he genuinely means well. Still, as a team they’d have a much harder time adjusting to Jiraiya compared to Sakumo.

(In which Jiraiya tries to impress his new team by emphasizing what a Very Big Deal it is to have him as a teacher and what a Very Big Deal He Is, Too Important to be Dealing With You Plebeians, and it ends up backfiring completely.)

“Here.” Jiraiya looked up, instinctively catching the bottle Reina tossed at him.

“Acetone. It dissolves superglue,” she explained. Jiraiya hesitated in opening the bottle, causing a wry smile to appear on Reina’s face. “Don’t worry, I didn’t put anything…extra in. You can test it on me if you don’t believe me.”

“Ah, there’s no need for that,” Jiraiya replied, slightly sheepishly. Then again, after the day he’d had, he thought he could be forgiven for being a little more cautious than usual. “Could you—?”

He trailed off when Reina stepped behind him, wordlessly complying with his request to remove the wooden sign (containing some rather colorful language) glued to his back before he’d even had a chance to ask.

“You know, the only reason she pranks you is because she wants you to teach her,” Reina murmured, as she began using the acetone to separate the sign from his back inch by inch.

Jiraiya let out a harsh laugh.

“I’m the last person she wants to teach her,” he said bitterly. “She hates me. They both do.”

His words cracked slightly at the end, hurt creeping out of his throat like thorns, and he bit back a curse. As if things with his team weren’t bad enough, now he had to go and ruin his chances at gaining the respect of his only student who didn’t seem to resent him.

Reina’s hands paused for a second.

“Kushina wants a teacher that responds to her. Mikoto wants a teacher that respects her. That’s very different from them hating you, sensei,” she said quietly.

“I’ve been trying to do that—”

“You’ve been trying to impress us,” Reina corrected. “Or the Hokage. Maybe your colleagues as well, I don’t know. But that’s not what we need.” She looked at him, gaze calm and steady and entirely too wise for someone her age. “What we need isn’t some larger-than-life legendary figure who’s too important to sit down and talk through the basics with us— what we need is someone real and willing to be present. Show Kushina you’re willing to take her seriously and that she doesn’t need to fight for your attention. Show Mikoto that you don’t think any less of her for being female. That’s it. Do that and I promise you they’ll come around.”

“That’s it, huh?” Jiraiya murmured, almost inaudibly. Just be present. How…simple.

Reina looked at him.

“When you were a genin, what did you care about more? That Sarutobi Hiruzen was the Hokage, or that he was your teacher?” Reina asked rhetorically. “Be the amazing, spectacular Toad Sannin to the rest of the world if you like, I don’t care. As long as you let yourself be Jiraiya-sensei for us.”

She stood up suddenly.

“Aaaand that’s the last of the superglue removed,” she informed him. Jiraiya blinked, startled. He’d completely forgotten about that. “You can keep the rest of the acetone, by the way. Consider it a gift.”

“Thank you, Reina,” Jiraiya said sincerely. He meant it, in more ways than one.

Her gaze softened.

“Hey, what are teammates for, right?” She asked, with a slight smile.

“Can I ask you one more thing?” He asked after a moment. Reina nodded. “You’ve said what the others wanted. What about you?”

“What do you mean?“ She asked, looking faintly confused.

“What are you looking for in a teacher?” He pressed.

Reina was quiet for a moment. When she looked up again, there was something almost wistful on her face.

“For you not to treat me like a child. Do you think you could do that for me, sensei?”

(The way I see it, when he was young Jiraiya was that one kid no one expected to succeed, who had to fight for every bit of respect and acknowledgement he got. And now that he’s a bit older, with an S-rank title and considered to be on the same level as Orochimaru and Senju Tsunade, it’s resulted in major imposter syndrome and him trying desperately to prove himself worthy of his reputation every chance he gets, overcompensating for his insecurities by acting far more confident and important than he actually feels.

Reina managed to cut through all of that by basically telling him you don’t need to be a genius or a hero to be a good teacher— you just have to be there for us and listen to us and respect us, it isn’t your reputation I want as my teacher, it’s you.)

cookieelemon:

Flippy & Fliqpy
[Thank you so much for voting for me in the contest. If I don’t win, at least I still know that I have amazing supporters like you guys]

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