by Denny Bitte
The Anatomy of a mermaid
i hate when people draws mermaid’s tail like it was some sort of goddamn suit on normal human legs like this:
it just doesnt work
yeah we wouldnt want to make our mermaids too unrealistic
this asks more questions than it answers. they don’t really have vestigial legs, like those aren’t even motile fins, so why do they still have fully formed hips, why hasn’t the pelvic bone changed significantly? and where did the tail come from?
whales as we know them evolved from land animals that went back out to sea, and it’s all spine all the way down to the tail fin. the pelvis is vestigial to the point of being tiny and unrecognizable, and the rear leg structure is //gone//. and by the time they evolved all that, their forelegs had turned into proper fins and they didn’t have hourglass figures, because they built up walls of insulating fat and blubber where it was needed most – around the vital organs.
which brings us to the walrus. as you can see the skeletal structure and the external appearance are fairly ursiform – the rear legs are basically still in there forming the tail, and the pelvis is intact, and above that it may as well still be a land animal. if mermaids did exist, as hominids who went back out to sea, and if they hadn’t evolved into basically dolphins, then a walrus skeletal system, complete with vestigial thigh bones inside a kind of muscle skirt, and with significant fat and blubber deposits //on the main body// would be most likely. which is to say, mermaids with human torsos and seagoing lower bodies would waddle around on their tails, have clearly defined thigh structures, and would be a hell of a lot rounder above and about the waist than they’re usually depicted.
which begs the question, then, if you see a mermaid and it’s a skinny little thing with a slinky waist and an eel-like tail and a perfect bosom and a coy smile, //why does it look like that//? because whatever that is? it is not a land animal that readapted to the sea. it is not your distant kin. it is a sea creature that adapted //to get your attention//.
maybe it’s all an illusion, a frilly mane, an hourglass shape, and narrow antennae that mimic the shape of human arms, waving lonely sailors into the water, only to realize too late the bioluminescent patterns of lipstick and pert breasts are to distract from what lies behind them – viselike jaws and row after row of stiletto teeth.
or maybe it’s all soft tissue, the gelatinous bell of a jellyfish folded into a pleasing shape, luring the unwary down to be caught up in a tail that is nothing more than thousands of barbed lines of stinging neurotoxin cells.
or it could be that the tail goes deep into a shadowy well, and the beautiful woman is a mask for a single enormous jaw, the internal skeleton just the endless spine and ribs of a vast and hungry sea snake.
or, perhaps most terrifyingly, the face is real but not the face of the eyes looking out of it – a human mask for an intelligence both cold and calculating, wearing an inviting smile to bring you within reach of the dagger behind it’s back. waiting to slice the skin off of you because it needs a new disguise, because it is shaped like you but does not look like you, because it must pass as you so it can go among you, so that by starlight it may go on land and into town, where your kin are sleeping, unsuspecting.
Jesus Christ back up a minute buddy
I am 100% on board with eldritch horror mermaids.
Can I set up something to just reblog this every time I see it? Like automatically? Because this is perfect and I love this.
Don’t pander to me, kid. One tiny crack in the hull and our blood boils
in thirteen seconds. Solar flare might crop up, cook us in our seats.
And wait till you’re sitting pretty with a case of Andorian shingles, see
if you’re still so relaxed when your eyeballs are bleeding. Space is
disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence.
I AM CAPTAIN AMERICA variant cover by Gerald Parel (2011)
@twistedingenue I feel you might appreciate this.
This was sort of my mental image of Steve in let fulfillment fuel the fire.
because yes. wow. very hot. so midwestern.
This just posted from my billion item long queue so obviously I must just PUT IT RIGHT BACK IN AGAIN.
Remember: Santa wasn’t afraid to shoot a fascist then and he isn’t afraid to shoot one now.
I think the real interesting thing is when people get past one of our last dates for the apocalypse – ‘cause there aren’t really any more after this, any good ones, convincing ones. The horrible realization that we actually have to keep going, that maybe the world isn’t going to end, is going to strike home. And that’s the real scary thing. What if it doesn’t end? Then we actually have to start dealing with it and doing things and making it work.
Grant Morrison on December 22, 2012 in Our Sentence is Up: Seeing Grant Morrison’s The Invisibles
I can’t explain how much I want a 21st century Star Trek au where Kirk still lives in Iowa and it’s like “holy shit aliens just literally landed in my cornfield I can’t believe my life became a bad episode of x-files”
ok but. hear me out like…
- kirk as just this genius 21yr old in Iowa building hi-tech shit in his basement; like radios and shit that manage to pick up sub-space frequencies that he helps code w/ the help of Uhura
- kirk thinking it’d be a funny prank to make some crop circles in his family’s cornfield
- kirk making intricate crop circles that read as some rudimentary script of Vulcan
- spock responding to the images that seem to be an SOS from his father; beams down to earth only to find out some humans managed to accidentally learn the vulcan language
- “oh so you’re an alien” “indeed” “And…you’re looking for your dad.” “affirmative” “well, you know what this means?” “….” “…roadtrip.”
- spock learns the meaning of friendship as he roadtrips across america with a pack of humans that kirk picks up along the way in search of his father: mccoy, the doctor they met in georgia that let them sleep in his basement; scotty the auto repair guy they meet in some backwater town; sulu in new york that is much better at driving than kirk is; nobody really knows how chekov ended up with them, but it’s probably illegal
- these are the voyages of the 1970 Volkswagen bus Enterprise