#tw dead whale

[lost-sunset-canine]

day 6 of mermay 2023 - mushroom 

soo i know this hasn't got to do anything to do with mushrooms but please listen to my thought process qwq !!  soooo it went from : oh mushroom, to rotting mermaid, :0 dead mermaid ,  biiiiig mermaid - many tiny mushrooms, no mushrooms just rotten, dead  so bones, give it bones, saggy skin falling into its self, so skull and shit gonna be a lil visible :0!!!!, hmm gore or no gore thats the question >->, no gore!!, wanna keep it a lil majestic cuz big whale woman , i dont even like whohemen cuz i’m gay as shit xD so why gotta draw it so pretty o^o??? hmmmm, anyway , now dam tiny humans, gonna get that big vs small aspect all down, fuck the background is blank, gotta draw some trees and shit i guess, oooh a parking lot cuz hotel at the beach shit going on tldr - mushroom means possible rotting thing so why not draw a dead whale merperson owo so ye qwq!! this was such a god dam challenge too!!! qwq!! i am trerrible with backgrounds so this was a nightmare to think about and actually color and shade in qwq but i am super happy and proud to how it came out in the end qwq!!  -dairiem

[queer-cosette]

This thumbnail is fucking sending me. The video title suggests that this is going to be about putrefaction and the build-up of internal gasses however I know exactly what is happening in that thumbnail picture. That is not what happens when a whale explodes from gas buildup. That is what happens when a whale explodes because someone lit 20 cases of dynamite on top of it. I am very familiar with both scenarios and that is definitely the second one, which is not a common occurance on the grounds that setting off 20 cases of dynamite on top of a dead whale is an extremely ill-advised course of action. Once again cetological clickbait succeeds in making me laugh very hard. Well done, youtube.

[mintyspacecadet]

A whale falls like sand in an hourglass

[drhoz]

#2487 - Mesoplodon layardii - Strap-toothed Beaked Whale

Named after the bizarre teeth, and Edgar Leopold Layard, the curator of the South African Museum, who sent drawings of a skull to the British taxonomist John Edward Gray, who described the species in 1865.

Largest of the Mesoplodons, growing to 6.2m in length, despite the fact that the strap-like tusks stop them opening their jaws more than 3cm. At least the females aren't so encumbered. It seems certain the teeth are used in male-male combat, but the only actual damage comes from a small spike on the tip of the teeth.

Sporadic strandings and sightings suggest the whale is widespread in the Southern Ocean, although one individual did show up in Myanmar in 2011.

Mostly a squid-feeder, caught by suction feeding. Hunted by orca, and harmed by sonar.

Whanganui Regional Museum, New Zealand

[a-book-of-creatures]

Impressed with how surreal this dead whale looks. Like an aquatic UFO or an alien lifeform or something

[mintytrifecta]

Ayo is that a whale falling to the ocean floor I sure hope it doesn't become a localized ecosystem that feeds and nourishes the deep sea for decades to come

[yeast-infection-enthusiast]

Decomposing whale on a beach with its skull that got detached from the body feat. me!

Photo from last year's trip to Scotland.

[fellhellion]

THE hanging panel and general incomprehensible web weave if u haven’t seen a completely different piece of media below as usual

[kneworder]

i have all these draft documents of half finished fics full of lines i love but that are so fundamentally flawed i can't figure out how to finish them and can't kill my darlings mercilessly enough to get past the roadblocks so i just reread them over and over and think damn this is kinda fire. wish it was anywhere near shareable.

[anticrapblog]

I am 99% sure that animal is dead based on the fact it's.... half buried.

I don't think this whale asked for help & kindness.

[apoliticalgoose]

"The windmills are driving them crazy they're driving... they're driving the whales I think a little batty..." - Former president (and unfortunately 2024 hopeful) Trump at campaign rally in South Carolina on September 25th, 2023.

[justmewondering56]

[drhoz]

#2488 - Tasmacetus shepherdi - Shepherd's Beaked Whale

One last beaked whale from the Whanganui Regional Museum, but this one is extra-special - it's the holotype of a species discovered by the curator in 1937.

AKA Tasman's beaked whale or simply the Tasman whale. The only member of its genus, only seen alive four confirmed times, and very rarely stranded.

George Shepherd found the whale near Hāwera, determined it was something unusual, and had the by-then month-dead remains shipped to the museum, wrapped in disinfectant and cloth, and left them on the museum roof to finish breaking down. He wisely didn't inform the locals where the ungodly stench was coming from.

About halfway down the spine the vertebrae are deformed by a large lumpy growth, that was compressing the spinal cord and may have been the cause of death. Probably extremely painful, too.

Adults can reach lengths of 6 metres (20 ft) to 7.1 metres (23 ft) and weigh about 2.32 to 3.48 tons. At birth they may be about 3 metres (9.8 ft) long. Unusually toothy for a Ziphiid, possessing a full set of 17 to 27 pairs of teeth. This is probably because the species eats more fish than the usually squid-focused other beaked whales.

Whanganui Regional Museum, New Zealand

[montereybayaquarium]

Whale, whale, whale, look what the ROV dragged in… 🐋🦴🤔

⚠️TW: graphic image of dead whale⚠️

In 2021, a dead fin whale washed up on a beach in Monterey Bay, giving us the unique opportunity to collect one of its back bones for display in the Into the Deep/En lo Profundo exhibit at the Aquarium. 

Before its debut, MBARI helped us sink it in the deep sea to “marinate”. Three years later, we returned to retrieve the whale bone, freshly colonized in Osedax bone-eating worms!  

Check out this collaborative process with @mbari-blog to bring the deep sea closer to you!

[small-sinclair]

Roadside Angel: The Way You Smile

This is part 3 of the series! This is not the last part.

Lester Sinclair x reader

Tw: burned hand, mention of dead people, not proofread

Tag list: @sketchy-rosewitch, @sweetgoateelight, @justmeandmyghosties, @idorkish, @mommymilkerfanclub, @early20sfailingplenty, @shadow-h-cipher

Part 1| Part 2

It’s been two weeks since you’ve been here, so you have a month left to tell Lester ‘I love you’, but you weren’t sure if you were going to make it long enough to say it. But you were starting to find reasons to love him.

For starters, he asked Vincent, the one in the waxed mask, to let you say goodbye to your brother and William before he turned them into wax. He let you have a moment to mourn over them as he stood outside of his brother’s workshop. Vincent did a nice job on sowing Jace’s wounds and cleaning Williams body; they looked like they were sleeping.

When you were ready to leave, Lester walked out out of the maze of pipes and wires towards upstairs to the House of Wax. Before you left the room, you looked back at your brother and waved goodbye one last time.

“What’s Vincent going to do to them?” You asked softly as you went up the steps, passing waxed faces on the wall.

“He’ll put your brother in t’movies and t’other in the dining room,” Lester says as he opens the door for you. He held out his hand for you to take at the last step, but you didn’t take it. He awkwardly put his hand down. “Vince’ll make sure they’re respectful.”

You were sure if that was comforting or horrifying to say. “I hope so.”

Your footsteps echoed throughout the museum as you took a look around. It doesn’t look like anyone alive has been here for years; the mountain of dust showed along with the cobwebs. Though the place looked paused in the late 90s, the art style looked pretty new. You stopped at a chair and poked it— it’s wax.

“Is this whole place made of wax?”

Lester stopped a few feet ahead of you and turned to look at you. In the halo of dust floating around your hair, you looked just like an angel. “Yeah. The whole place ‘is.”

You gave him a doubtful look. “Bullshit.”

“Point ‘at somethin’,” he encouraged, a grin forming. “Anythin’.”

You took that invention, pointing at the floor. “Wood?”

He shakes his head. “Nope. Beeswax and soybean wax.”

“Door and bookcase— that can’t be wax!”

“Sorry, sugar,” he chimed. “Wax, too. Soy wax, actually.”

You gasped surprisingly. “The whole house!? That can’t be—“

“Wax. Beeswax, soybean wax, coconut oil wax, an’ whale oil wax as t’hardern.” Lester gives you the brightest smile. “Mama built ‘is place.”

“Your… your mother built this?”

He nodded as he paced the floors then stopping by an oil painting. “Yep, Mama built ‘is before I was born.” Then he looked back at you. “She taught Vincent everythin’ she knew!” He chuckles and shakes his head, saying to himself, “They’re smarter than me.”

You tilted your head then looked at the painting. At the corner, you saw Vincent’s name written in gold. “He does the art?”

“That’s right.”

“Bo fixes car,” you took a careful step towards him. “And what do you do?”

His smile leaves as he looks down at his dirty boots. The air became thick around you. He pushes himself away from his brother’s work and came to your side. He takes your hand. “Come on,” he mumbles. “Gotta get you home. Still need rest.”

That was two weeks ago.

Now, you barely talk to him.

He wakes up before you, cooks you breakfast and coffee, and kisses you goodbye on the hand, saying, “Be home soon, sweet pea.” Everyday, he does this. When he comes home, he kisses your hand or cheek and washes up. He talks about his day and tells you something new the loves about you.

“I love your handwriting,” he told you a couple days ago. “It’s so easy to follow and flows.”

Yesterday, he said, “I love the bread ya made last night.” He flashes a smile and said, “Promise I’ll bring home more cookin’ things ‘is weekend. Y’all can come with.”

He invited you to come with him to town last time, but you didn’t go.

Even though you don’t talk to him, he still tried his best to talk to you. He takes about his day, about the people he met, the animals and kills— but he likes it when he hears you talk. Still, you haven’t given him the satisfaction for talking or smiling. Lester would bend-over backwards just to see you smile. He’ll do anything to see you smile.

When he came home today with a wild daisy, he hung up his hat, boots off at the door, and he kissed your hand like normal. He balled up his light grey jacket and threw it in the washer. “I brought home a deer,” he says as he places the Bowie on the counter next to his pack of Reds and green lighter.“Killed jus’ twenty minutes ago, I reckon.”

You hummed to show your approval. Before you came here, you never thought of eating deer, now? You love it!

“I love the way ya sing, y/n,” he said. You lifted a brow at this one. You were finishing making dinner, something that he expects you to do, as he went on, saying, “Mama used to sing me to sleep.” He went to the kitchen sick and started washing his arms with orange soap and Goo-b-Gone. “She hated singin’ to me. Bu, you?” He glanced at you and gave a half-hearted smile. “You sound like an angel.” You couldn’t help but give a grin in return, but it fell as you continued cooking your hamburger helper.

He bit his lower lip nervously then started washing his hands again then under the finger nails. “I saw a lil’ fox today. It had the cutest tail an’ face—“

You weren’t paying attention when you grabbed the hot part of the pan. You let out a painful yelp and threw the spoon to the floor. You held your hand close to your chest as you fought back tears. Lester hurried to your side and took your hand—

“No!” You shouted, pushing him back. “Don’t fuckin’ touch me!”

He looked at you hurt and lowered his hand. He bent down, picked up the spoon, washed it off, and stands by the stove. “Run it under water at least, y/n,” he instructed. “Helps the pain.”

You did as you were told and ran it under cold water and took deep breaths through your teeth. In the silence, he said, “I know we’re supposed t’do one a day, but I love the way ya take charge of yer life.” He sounded genuine as he said, “I never… well, I wanna take charge.” He glances at you then back at dinner. “I love ‘at your strong.”

That broke the dam.

You’re supposed to hate him. He didn’t save your brother and friend. He has you here in his home, keeping a close eye on you and everything— but he’s been nothing but kind. He gives you space and never forces your to do anything. He helps clean and cooks, but you’ve taken that role to keep you busy.

But he smiles at you. It’s never forced or fake. It’s a real smile filled with tenderness and friendliness.

So how could he come from a family like that? How come he never ended up like Bo or Vincent? He doesn’t like killing or participates in the killings, so how? How didn’t he come out almost normal. Bo enjoys seeing your fear in your eyes every time he comes around. He scares you, threatens you, has once threatened to stab you if you showed weakness. Is that it? Does Lester feed off your fear?

You let a cracked cry escape and started crying against the sink. “Aw, sweet pea,” Lester sighs. He turns the stove off and moved the pan away from the burner and came to your side. “Is it that bad? Lemme see your hand—“

“Smile,” you chocked out. You met his eyes. “I-I love your smile.”

His eyes went wide in disbelief, but it softened. Hesitantly, he guided your hand back under the cold water and holds it there. Gears turned and burned with thoughts of hope and fear of you, but he’ll worry about it later. You just… you love his smile?

“Thank you, sweet pea,” he whispers. “I love your smile, too—“

“Lester,” you cut him off as far tears fell down your eyes. “Lester, I’m scared. I’m scare-scared you’ll hurt me or your brothers and Bo—“

He searched outside then looked back at you. “Rest your head on my shoulder, sugar.”

“Les—“

“Just do it. Le’me talk.”

You lean on his shoulder and allowed him to look over your burned hand. His fingers brushed over the burned mark for a moment then placed it under water once more. His eyes never left your hand, and he looked at it as if it was a fragile piece of art. He turned off the water and brought up your hand, kissing the wound as gently as he could.

“I ain’t never gonna hurt ya,” he promises. “I swore to your brother, an’ I plan on keepin’ it.” He rested his head on top of yours as he looks at the burn. “I know Bo’s been scaring you, an’ I know your scared t’death,” he closed his eyes and swallowed hard, “You ain’t got nothin’ to be afraid of when ‘m around.” He kisses your hand once more before turning to face you. He lifts your chin as he thumbed away your tears. Oddly, his rough hands were soft today. “I’ll fight them monsters, sweet pea,” he kisses your knuckles, “I swear.”

*************

After dinner and tv, he made his bed on the couch again. He fluffed his pillows and took his night medication, but he stopped when he saw you standing in the hallway between the living room and the bedroom.

He straightens himself, eyes scanning over you. “Is your hand fine?”

You nodded as you held the wrapped hand close to your chest. “Could,” you swallowed the lump on your throat, “could you sleep with me tonight?”

His eyes lit up. “You sure? I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

You nodded. Standing aside, you opened up to the bedroom. “Just for the night, okay?”

He nods and takes his pillows, following you down the hall. In bed, he lays down after you made yourself comfortable and laid on his back.

Before he closed his eyes, you asked, “Promise you’ll never hurt me?”

“I promise, sugar,” he drawled, turning his head towards you. “I’ll protect you from everything wrong if ya let me.”

You laid on your side and offered a smile, and it made his heart ache for another. “Thank you, Lester.”

You started to learn to love him the next day.