#yes this is about the whale

[if-we-are-free-tell-me-why]

Hey just to all my fellow fat people out there: You are doing great and your body is amazing. I am tired of fat bodies only being depicted as funny, disgusting, frightening fuck that. Fat people are great and valuable and we deserve better.

[canisalbus]

Machete the Feral does this weird ass dog thing when they stare into your soul.

.

[backhurtyy]

i am once again asking people to put whales in space. specifically whale sharks. and make their spots glow. they're stars. that move. do you understand.

[angelofalls]

[OC] Ray Maximus vs Adam Greene (XtremeRebel1)

[keikoyume]

Nghhhhhhh Ferryman my beloved

[even-in-arcadia]

Of the Monstrous Pictures of Whales

In my very informed opinion it is absolutely essential to read Chapter 55 with visual aids. Here are some highlights pulled from Ishmael's Most Hated depictions so we can all be on the same page about what whales definitely don't look like.

Guido Reni & William Hogarth get the benefit of the doubt on account of the fact that it never says Perseus's sea monster is a whale. We can all agree that these definitely are not:

2. Robert Sibbald was the first naturalist to officially describe a blue whale and I'll give him a pass on being first and blue whales being incomprehnsibly large even now, but this really is not accurate in pretty much any way.

See below the cut for more "monstrous" depictions!

3. Physeter or Spermaceti Whale by Captain Colnett. Allegedly drawn from "life" but, getting out our scale rule will show that its eye is the size "a bow-window some five feet long. Ah, my gallant captain, why did ye not give us Jonah looking out of that eye!" Truly a missed opportunity from the captain there.

4. Oliver Goldsmith's An History of the Earth and Animated Nature is truly a treasure. Per Ishmael "I do not wish to seem inelegant, but this unsightly whale looks much like an amputated sow". The illustration on the right isn't directly mentioned in here but honestly it's a treasure and I feel obliged to share it with you. There's too much going on there for me to possibly pick out highlights. They're so bad they're perfect. No notes.

5. Bernard Germain, defying the laws of physics here. "Not only incorrect" but also does "not to have its counterpart in nature"

6. Cuvier's Sperm whale is "not a sperm whale but a squash." Succinct and shady. Perhaps my favorite description in the entire chapter.

[acorviart]

more ceramics in progress, gonna try single color celadon glazes on these and hope the details aren't covered up

[mothhuuny]

limbus company au where instead of fighting to the death, all conflicts are solved via roller derby. "limbus company" is actually a travelling roller derby group with dante as their coach. do they know a single thing about roller derby? nope! thats not stopping them, though!

[kinkajouwof]

'CAUSE WE'LL NEVER STOP NOW UNTIL IT ALL COMES CRASHING DOWN HUMAN PROCRASTINATION 'TILL THE END

[i-upset-to-dead-65]

Having a stupid phobia is so fucking annoying. Yes I know it won't hurt me. It's common enough to run into often but silly enough that if I try to pre-warn people they'll laugh and try to trigger me. I don't mind answering questions but eventually I just end up repeating myself saying "I know it doesn't make sense. It's irrational. No logic will not help. It's irrational. I completely understand what you are saying and I even agree. However it is an irrational."

[surpriserose]

Yeah paprika was pretty good

[no-light-left-on]

more of my post-DotO au that I wrote a couple nights back. just exploring Emily and the Outsider's potential friendship

for some reason it's 1.5k words

The mechanism of Emily’s crossbow clicks into place as she holds the weapon up, the dart pointed squarely at the Outsider’s forehead.

“It’s just me,” the Outsider says, not phased by the weapon aimed at his face.

Emily sighs. “You’re going to get yourself shot if you don’t start knocking,” she says. “Especially if you do that to Corvo.”

“I do not visit Corvo’s office,” the Outsider replies as he closes the door behind him. Emily raises a brow at his words, but asks no questions.

“Well I am honoured that it is I who you chose to visit at-” she glances at the clock on her desk, “ten minutes past midnight. Shit, it’s really late…” She nods to an armchair across from her own seat on the sofa and straightens up. “What are you doing here this late, anyway?”

The Outsider drops down into the piled up cushions of the armchair with a sigh. Up close, Emily notices the buttons of his shirt are misaligned, and he’s wearing only a jacket on top. His hair sticks out over his left temple, and the answer to her question is obvious even before he opens his mouth.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he says. The same words he’s shared with her many times since his arrival to the Tower. “So I decided to walk around the hallways, scare a couple servants, tempt married women and lonely men, you know, the usual Outsider business.” He waves his hand as he speaks, sarcasm lacing his words. “I only came to see you because I noticed the light was still on.”

Emily nods, hums. “Would you like a drink?” she offers, kicking her feet off the armrest of the sofa she was sprawled over.

“You know I do not solve my night terrors with alcohol,” the Outsider says, but by then Emily has reached her desk and picked up a clean whiskey tumbler.

“I do,” Emily admits and sets the tumbler in front of him. “But I also know that you do not decline alcohol in polite company.”

The Outsider snorts at her words, an ugly half-laugh that escapes through his nose, and Emily follows with her own laughter. “How in the Void am I supposed to interpret that?” she exclaims. “Am I not good enough for you, prick?”

The Outsider laughs proper, then, shaking his head at the insult. “I would not call the Dunwall nobility polite even if it saved me from an Abbey interrogation session.” He takes a breath, feels the air fill his lungs. “You will do, better than anyone else in this accursed city.”

With those words, Emily opens the half-empty bottle of whiskey set on the little table between them, and pours until the Outsider calls ‘enough’. She refills her own glass, then, and as the Outsider picks up his share with trembling hands, she clinks their glasses together.

“To sleepless nights,” she toasts.

“To sleepless nights,” he echoes.

They drink in silence, the whiskey warming their bellies and burning their mouths. It isn’t until he has drank most of his share that the Outsider speaks again, his eyes downcast, watching the remaining liquid slosh in the tumbler.

“I keep dreaming of the Void,” he whispers. “The way it was for millennia. And then the way it was before I was freed.” The remaining whiskey shifts from deep browns to gold, warm like Serkonan afternoons, and the Outsider tries to focus on the warmth and the light to chase away the remaining wisps of the Void still curled around his racing mind. “I thought- or hoped, dared to hope, that once I leave Shindaerey, it would let me go. That I was freed. But it persisted and chased me to Karnaca, and then to Dunwall. I felt ill with fear when we approached Dunwall at night, and I heard a whale song from my cot, and the ship was so cold by then that for a moment I expected to open my eyes and be back there-”

“Hey,” Emily interrupts and the Outsider looks up from his glass, meets her eyes, as deep and warm as whiskey in candlelight. “Mio,” she speaks the nickname and the Outsider doesn’t flinch away as he would at the sound of his full name. “You were trapped there for over four thousand years. These things stick with you. They follow you. I spent six months with Madam Prudence and sometimes I still dream of my days in the Golden Cat. It’s normal.”

“I do not understand how you deal with that,” the Outsider admits. He sinks back into the pillows, pulls his legs up until he folds himself onto the armchair. He’s startlingly small like that, with cushions and velvet armrests swallowing him whole. Emily wonders for a moment just how much of his life he spent being swallowed whole by the world around him.

“You just do,” she says and takes a sip from her glass. “You wake up every day, and you keep going. And then you wake up again. And again. And you do not stop.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“It is, in a way.” Emily finishes her whiskey, pours herself another glass. “I simply do not know what else there is to do but keep going.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” the Outsider mutters. “It does not make the nightmares any easier to bear.”

“I never said they would be easy to bear,” Emily tells him. “Maybe with time. But for now we have whiskey to dull that ache.” She raises the drink to the light, a smile creeping to her face. “Drink up. This is the good shit.”

And the Outsider does. Finishing the last of his drink in a single swig. The last drops burn away the remaining chill of the Void from his chest and the present sets in, with the warmth of the embroidered blanket draped over the back of his chair and the fire slowly dying in the fireplace since long before he entered Emily’s office. The icy sting of the Void does not reach him.

“You’re smiling,” Emily notes as the Outsider cradles the now empty glass in his hand. “I told you it chases the bad things away, for now.”

“Billie taught you that one,” the Outsider says instead.

“She did,” Emily confirms.

“You struggled sleeping on the Dreadful Wale,” the Outsider continues. “You never felt like you could wake up right.”

“That’s one way to call me spoiled,” Emily teases. “The cot was too hard, the room too stuffy, and everything reeked of stale liquor.”

“And your mind kept wandering, even in your sleep. You were so determined to chase after Delilah and her minions you could hardly rest. Her magic was too vast for you to stop worrying.”

“I don’t think I ever stopped worrying, even after coming home,” Emily admits. “I felt empty once things went quiet and we chased the last of the witches away. Too little to worry about.”

“Just like every time you came back to the Wale.”

“Every time I’d return,” Emily whispers, “Billie would get the best whiskey she had and we would celebrate a mission accomplished. It knocked me out on top of the exhaustion. After three times I realised Billie just wanted me to sleep for once. I guess it helped.”

“It must have, since you went out of your way to find the same brand of whiskey to keep around.”

“Nothing gets past you, huh? Nosy brat.” Still, there is no malice in her voice. Just fondness “It calms me down even a year later. Helps put me to sleep.”

“And yet you keep it in your office.”

“I could have kept it in the safe room instead. But here we are. I had to walk all the way here for this bottle. You wouldn’t have found me otherwise.”

“I am grateful that you came here for me to find you, for whatever that might be worth.”

“It’s worth a lot,” Emily says. Their eyes meet and the Outsider turns away. “Truly.”

A silence stretches between them. The Outsider closes his eyes, soaks in the warmth of the room as Emily drinks what is left of her share. The time approaches one in the morning when a light knock sounds from the heavy door and it is pushed open.

“Emily?” Corvo’s rasp follows. The room goes still as he enters the office and his eyes go to the Outsider. Neither of them move, but Corvo’s voice lacks the private warmth it held just a moment ago the next time he speaks. “I didn’t realise you had company.”

“Father-” Emily tries to say, but the Outsider interrupts her.

“Well, would you look at the time,” he says as he sets his long empty glass on the table. “I suppose it is time I retire to bed. Thank you for your time.” He stands then, straightens his crumpled jacket. Corvo’s eyes never leave him as he hurries to the door. Don’t worry about it, he mouths at Emily as he walks past Corvo, as he grips the brass door handle. He pretends not to see the angry furrow of his brows. “Goodnight, Emily.” He avoids her eyes as much as he avoids Corvo’s when he slips out of the room and shuts the door closed behind him.

The Tower is much colder outside of Emily’s office.

[the-chattering-tower]

I almost forgot, I finally got Torrent an outfit (and a new scene just now!)

He really didn't need much, but I'm so happy about how the skulking chestplate matches his colours and alters his silhouette

He's one of the many, many dragons whose lore I have yet to type down (and shouldn't start rn bc Pain) but he's a spiney whale living part of the year in Whalesrest Town in dragon form. He's very old and spends a lot of time napping on his porch when he's not teaching the local kids how to make slingshots or scavenge snacks from tidepools

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

oh my gosh I just found a whale shark-themed wristwatch I want one

[reedraws]

How I interpreted the most recent whale weekly happened in-universe

[orcinus-veterinarius]

Blackfish is back on Netflix. My first thought is there’s going to be a new influx of anti cap people pushing SWIMS😭

Oh joy. But it’s also been free on YouTube for a while (I keep getting it recommended to me), and it was on Hulu until recently. It’s always been pretty accessible, so hopefully it’ll mostly be rewatches instead of huge numbers of folks who’ve never seen it.