#rising oceans

[nando161mando]

Rising oceans, St Malo edition

[everydayesterday]

How a Northwest tribe is escaping a rising ocean - KUOW (NPR)

Excerpt: 'Each November, December, and January, the highest tides of the year, known as king tides, threaten to flood the low-lying village of 800 people, the largest on the Quinault Reservation. Waves deposit hulking driftwood logs on top of the seawall and, occasionally, into people’s backyards.'

'Oceanographers say king tides in Taholah and elsewhere give a sneak peek of the future as an ever-hotter climate swells the world’s oceans. Global sea levels have risen about seven inches over the past century due to heat-trapping pollution, with a similar rise forecast in just the next 30 years.

In December, the Quinault government reached a milestone in its long push to provide safe housing for its people.

"You're looking at about nine acres of fresh development, with asphalt and sidewalks and lots of open space to start building some houses," tribal council member Ryan Hendricks said behind the wheel of his pickup truck. "What I see is, I see a really nice start of relocating a village."'

[valentinahogdahlholm]

Eldena

Eldena's ruin on the banks of Elde, The romantic's favourite motives in infinite schetches and paintings, covered in ivy and the shade of trees- Holes like arches to discover, Fallen stones, Hidden stairs, Grand structure.

In the water's reflections the features, The romantics' ruins, Romanticised, refined, the sharp edges hidden by ivy.

A beautiful ruin, refined in paints and movements of pencils, Following the contures of Eldena's ruins on Elde's shore.

A beautiful figure who's walls hide shadows, holes and broken stones so sharp they cut through the skin which scrapes it. In the painting hidden under the tendrils, This muse of romanticism,

Three dimensions become two with the movement of the hand, False depths, This is no pipe.

//

Eldenas ruiner på Eldes bank,

Romantikernas favoritmotiv i otaliga skisser och tavlor täckt i murgröna och trädens svalska. 

Hål som bågar att upptäcka, 

Fallna stenar, 

Dolda trappor, 

Stordådig struktur. 

I vattnets reflektioner speglas anletsdragen, 

Romantikernas ruinera 

Romantiserad, förfinas, de skarpa kanterna dolda av murgröna. 

En vacker ruin, förskönad i penseldrag och ord som följer konturerna av Eldenas ruiner på Eldes strand. 

En vacker figur vars väggar döljer skuggor, hål och brutna stenar så vassa att de skär genom huden som skrapar mot den. 

I tavlan dold under rankor, 

Denna vackra romantiska musa, 

Tre dimensioner blir två med handelns rörelser, falska djup, 

Detta är ingen pipa. 

[whats-in-a-sentence]

When they crossed, before the rising oceans drowned the land bridge around 12,000 BCE, there were no domesticated food crops to bring; by the time there were domesticated food crops,* the land bridge was submerged.

*As opposed to nonfood crops – a 2005 DNA study suggests that the first colonists of the Americas brought with them from Asia cultivated bottle gourds, which they used as containers.

"Why the West Rules – For Now: The patterns of history and what they reveal about the future" - Ian Morris

[sometimesthereisnorightorwrong]

Humans were not truly doomed until the Industrial Revolution.

[maureen2musings]

Gold Coast, Queensland

_harrrryy_

[dandylovesturtles]

explaining the train of thought that got me to this would take way too much backstory but basically I had an idea and then I wrote it. I rewatched Scream recently so maybe that helps lol

cw: death (not of a canon character), mentions of blood and vomit

-----

The call comes in at a little after 2 AM, and he almost doesn’t answer because he’s busy.

But Leo almost never calls him, and it’s a singular enough occurrence that he picks up the phone and hits the button.

“Hello, you are conversing with Donatello,” he greets. “Make it quick, Nardo, I’m elbow deep in the tank’s engine.”

On the other end of the line, Leo is silent. Or, mostly silent; Donnie can hear him breathing, a little too loud, a little too fast.

Suddenly, he’s on high alert. He sits back from the tank, speaking more urgently into the phone, “Leo?”

There’s another second of breathing, and then, finally, in a voice that is too high and panicked to be his normal joking tone, he says, “Hey, remember when I sent you that meme about siblings who will beat the crap out of each other one minute and hide a body for each other the next, and I said, “us,” and you gave it a heart?”

Donnie blinks. Processes that string of words.

“I think I recall it,” he says.

“Well,” says Leo. “I need to know if that’s really us.”

Donnie stands up and keys in the command to swap battleshells to the jetpack.

“Stay where you are,” he says. “I’m on my way.”

-----

The body is male. Early twenties. About six two or six three. Caucasian. Wearing some ghoulish mask like the serial killer in a bad teen slasher.

Actually, now that Donnie thinks about it, there’s been stuff on the news lately. About a guy who likes to knife up co-eds. And Leo’s wearing his biggest, baggiest hoodie, and jeans, and in a dark alley like this it would be easy to mistake him for a normal, non-mutated human teen.

The puzzle pieces are all laid out for Donnie, but the picture it paints is pretty unbelievable.

Then again, he’s a mutant turtle who grew up in a sewer and recently fended off an alien invasion. His bar for believable is pretty low.

He takes in the body, slashed across the chest, ridiculous getup soaked in blood. Then he turns to look at Leo, curled around his knees against the wall. There’s blood all over him, too, but Donnie feels pretty confident that most of it is not his own. There’s a puddle of vomit nearby, and a dagger, and a katana, cast aside.

Leo raises his eyes to meet Donnie’s. “I didn’t know he was human.”

Donnie looks back at the body, and at the mask. Connects it to the dagger, which definitely isn’t Leo’s.

“Seems like he was a great guy,” Donnie says. 

“He stabbed my arm.”

“I meant it sarcastically.”

Leo laughs, high and reedy. Then he leans over and vomits again.

Donnie can’t help but curl his snout at that one. He looks away and waits for Leo to finish.

There’s a spit, then a sniff, then Leo says, “He stabbed my arm and I turned around and saw the mask.”

Ah yes, that. It’s pink and has a serrated smile. Little rubbery bits of slime and ooze. These things got popular after the invasion - they aren’t anywhere near the real thing, but in a dark alley, under attack, alone, when Leo had…

The puzzle pieces are there. Donnie doesn’t really need an explanation to put it together.

Actually, scratch that: he does need an explanation for one thing.

“Why are you so upset about this?” He looks back at Leo. “You took out a serial killer. Or a wannabe serial killer. At the very least a stabber.”

“I didn’t mean to kill him,” says Leo immediately. A little pleading. “I didn’t think that would… I didn’t know he was human.”

“He attacked you.”

“I could have disarmed him. I could have trapped him and let the police deal with him.”

“He came up behind you in this creepy mask and stabbed your arm.”

“He didn’t stand a chance against me,” says Leo, and it’s not swaggering and not boastful, but horrified. “It was like tearing paper, Dee. It was so easy.”

Donnie leaves the body to kneel in front of his brother. He puts his hands on his shoulders, looking him straight in the eye to make sure he listens.

“He attacked you, Nardo. He wanted to kill you. He made the wrong choice. Not you.”

Leo looks down, at the blood on his hoodie, and Donnie squeezes his shoulders until they lock eyes again. 

“He made the wrong choice,” Donnie repeats emphatically. 

Leo sighs, like he’s giving in, and a rueful smile grows on his face. “Thanks, hermano. But I don’t think the EPF is gonna see it that way.”

Ah yes, the good old United States government, and their hilariously poorly titled Earth Protection Force. Since the invasion, their existence had become known to the EPF, and they’ve been in an unspoken truce ever since. A “live and let live” holding pattern.

Unfortunately, Donnie has to admit Leo is right on this one: that this man is likely and most probably a serial killer won’t matter to the EPF. Killing any human crosses a line they won’t tolerate.

And so, there is only one solution here. The one Leo proposed when he first called.

Donnie is going to help him hide a body.

…Which means he is going to have to touch it.

Leo frowns at him. “Uh, Dee, what’s the yarf-face for?”

“I just realized how gross this is going to be.”

Leo laughs again, more than a little hysterical, and lets his head fall against Donnie’s plastron, the giggles shaking his shoulders under Donnie’s hands.

“That wasn’t a joke,” Donnie insists. Leo just laughs even harder.

Donnie scowls, even as he pulls Leo closer. “That meme really is us. I want to beat the crap out of you right now.”

Leo howls with laughter. Except it sounds a little more like sobbing now. Donnie gathers him up and holds him until he’s better again.

-----

Across the Hudson, the sky is turning pink. Donnie stands with Leo, watching the water that the body disappeared under.

They’ve already scrubbed the alley clean of any blood traces - his and Leo’s. He also had his drones bring gloves with the cleaning supplies, so they didn’t leave any fingerprints. At least Leo had the sense not to touch anything. And it’s not like the government has their prints on file, anyway. Donnie’s checked.

There wasn’t anything they could really do to hide the massive laceration that led to the body’s death. Short of melting it in acid, but both of them had dismissed that idea as soon as Donnie raised it. Despite what Donnie thinks of himself, he isn’t actually a stone cold disposer of bodies. The idea of melting it was too gross to think about.

Besides, it doesn’t matter if the body gets found, as long as it doesn’t get traced back to them. And Donnie doesn’t see any reason it should.

He’s already hacked any security cameras near the scene and made sure Leo doesn’t show up on any of them. Leo’s a good enough ninja to avoid that sort of thing, anyway, not that Donnie will admit it out loud. The crabs and fish will take care of the flesh and the katana’s mark. Leo destroyed the weapon itself in a bright blue explosion of ninpo.

“It’s kind of a bummer,” says Leo after a minute, “that the murders will go unsolved.”

“No, they won’t.” Donnie pulls out a phone, holding it carefully with his gloves. “He helpfully took trophy photos.”

Leo’s eyes go wide. “Dude, did you fish around in his pockets?”

Donnie can’t help but curl his lips. “Ugh, don’t remind me. It was a very unpleasant experience and I don’t want to repeat it.”

“What are you going to do with it?”

“Find where he lived and leave it there.” Donnie shrugs. “His body will turn up, or he’ll get reported missing. The cops will find it and everything will be wrapped up in a neat little bow.”

“Huh. Guess that takes care of that.” A pause. Leo shuffles a bit next to him. “You’re… really calm about this.”

Is he? Since the moment he got that phone call, he entered Fix It mode. He hasn’t really thought of anything else since.

“I don’t know if I will be later,” he admits.

“I’ll be there, if you’re not.”

Donnie hums an acknowledgement. There’s a weight against his arm, Leo leaning into him.

“Thanks, Dee,” he says.

“You’d do the same for me,” Donnie replies.

“Yeah,” Leo agrees. Simple as that.

[lace-sutures]

Donnie on a pogo stick..

hes scared to get on

[haranikala]

Trains of Ghibli

☛ twitter, instagram, website ✉ art print shop

[elizabugz]

[kindaasrikal]

Morro’s last line in Ninjago was “You can only save those who want to be saved. Goodbye, Sensei.”

And the scene right mf after was THIS

HIM REACHING OUT.

REACHING OUT FOR WU.

Morro didn’t want to be saved. He was far too tired and far too uncaring at that point to have the will to live again. But he wanted a second chance. He wanted to do more. He wanted to have his choices matter and he wanted to leave on a better note and he desperately wanted to ignore that small part inside of him forcing him to keep his arm up, to keep reaching forward for something he doesn’t deserve again.

Something he didn’t deserve, and couldn’t get, again.

[amaterasou]

ghibli films

[valentinahogdahlholm]

Prora

Crushed seashells over my feet, Pink treasures by the water's edge. Purple, blue they rise from the ocean. Crushed under my brutal, unthinking feet. Swept out of desperate hands by the waves. Destined to never to taste the treasures of the ocean. Stubborn as Prometheus I try, When waves from cruise ship, so human, rising higher on my legs, Current gripping flowery dress, And surrounded by the seashells I float like Ophelia of the North Sea to the bottom. //

Krossade snäckskal sköljer över fötterna, 

Rosa skatter i strandbrynet, 

I lila, blått stiger de från havet. 

Krossas under mina brutala, obetänksamma fötter, 

Sveps ur fingrarnas desperata grepp av vågorna. 

Ämnad att aldrig smaka havets ädelstenar, 

Envis som Prometeus försöker jag, 

När vågor från kryssningsbåtar, så mänskliga, stiger högre över benen.

Strömmarna greppar tag i blomsterfärgad klänning. 

Och omgiven av snäckskalen flyter jag som en Östersjöns Ofelia mot botten. 

[ameliadoesstuff]

some of my favourite fanart headcanons:

[2dmax]

🌊🐚 Mango Smoothie the Fathom for @tranzdragonz !!

my first time drawing a fathom 😮