#saps at sea

[letterboxd-worth-a-damn]

[protectoursharks]

Hiii!

I'm like a week new to Tumblr- I can't figure out how to sort through content well, so you've probably posted about this before

What do you know about sea slugs?? Like particularly interesting ones! I love them and wanna hear your description!!

Here are some of my past nudibranch posts: x x x

One of my favorite nudibranchs is the Sap-sucking sea slug (Cyerce elegans)!

The large leaf-looking parts are known as cerata and help the nudibranch "breathe". They can also be released to use as a distraction if the animal feels threatened!

The species has many color variations, from nearly transparent to red or brown! The color is dependent on the environment in which the species is found; these nudibranchs have coloration that matches the local algae that they eat. This helps them stay camouflaged while they're eating!

[piratedllama-art]

Happy Marinetober!

Day 1: sap-ducking slug

Done w/ markers

[meta-knight-is-bisexual]

hi everyone i’m back with a short storyboard animatic thing i made

warning for minor sketchy blood :]

i don’t think this arc has been talked about by either me or @pumpkinnkidd before but uuhh essentially trouble goes to hell!! he’s tricked into training in the auburn plains, and is sleeping in the sage den due to his initial assumption that the cat in his dreams was from stag colony instead of the auburn plains. pumpkin is their colony’s sage rookie, and the two of them are very close friends. however, trouble is now carrying the guilt of “lying” about training with stag colony as well as the wounds he gets every night from his training. he feels as though he’s betrayed his colony, since they believe he’s some chosen child, and pumpkin just wants to save her friend from this hell he’s stuck in <<33

[pumpkinnkidd]

i uploaded my first yt video! watch it if you’d like!

[necrophcge]

"who put you in charge?"

@goldenfists // moments stolen from a doom-driven journey // accepting.

"Evolution." And oh are there moments when he wishes it weren't so, truly. Awareness unlocked and unleashed upon him in a shower of golden Dust, twisting something that had been little more than a scuttling beast scavenging for a morsel into a someone that was capable of recognizing how alone he could be despite being surrounded by hundreds of his own kindred... alas, here he remains, master and kindred and leader to the ravening swarm as they struggle to survive.

"When you were born to do nothing more than kill, there is no need for a consensus on who should lead, nor any more merit to be considered than who best can slay your enemies." Here in the shade offered by the ancient arena, Shurima's sun baking the dunes with her harsh rays, He Who Meddles considers his... well. Guest feels too esteemed for a hind-legs no matter their supposed renown, but meal implies the tales of Sett aren't always accompanied with the corpses that prove them. Nonetheless, the champion of Iona's fighting pits had come a long way from home simply to spill blood onto the thirsting sands. Too far for that to be his sole interest. "That, and the raiders were content to leave this place for the desert to swallow again... and I abhor waste."

Conversing with hind-legs beyond simply threatening them had been a novelty on Auriga, but a new strategy was required for a new world. Restoring this arena, offering the hind-legs their shiny gold trinkets and baubles pulled from the ruins to slay one another just to feed the hive without them ever being the wiser, was but a small but lucrative little venture. One that would be paying off yet again, assuming Sett was actually here to claim another title for his legacy.

"Do you intend to challenge the status quo, Half-Beast?" There's an ominous whirr to his words, and He Who Meddles' mandibles snap together harshly, both pairs of arms folded in clear expectation as his many-eyes rove over Sett.

[seased]

been seeing a lot of bg3, being playing some at a friends place, this is my review:

the models are too good (hd wrinkles and pores) and the lighting is too bad (high noon all the time). and this shit combines together to create what im calling The Old Man Angle. every character has these angles at which they look 55 years old. it’s like so noticeable to me im so hung up on it

[royalreef]

      Her romantic’s heart has seized her again, and she has to resist the temptation to, yet again!, state just how much she loves Aaravi, in exactly which ways, and taking care to list every way. And she can’t afford to, because the ways in which she loves Aaravi is every way, and they just don’t have that type of time!

                                        What can she say? She’s a completionist.

[valorxdrive]

"Hey, lover boy, Christmas is coming up. What're you scheming up for Kairi?" And if he knows Sora, which he certainly does, he's going to go all out.

"What, you wanna' keep it a secret or something?"

"Whaaaaat? C'mon I didn't make it that obvious." He adds with an instant of boisterous laughter. Except it leads to a moment short lived, his expression edging from that more brazen confidence to a more modest edge.

Somehow, someway, the lady in question could always egg this angle from him.

"Did I?"

Not as if his idea had some tangible trail to lead up to it. As it stands, what Sora considered was from a memory tinged with a bittersweet weight reserved for the two of them. It was from a journey into the void itself, where the natural collapse of the cosmos itself hung on the precipice, yet it was through their efforts that the END hadn't found itself encroaching with mercilessness.

Even now he can look back upon that day so vividly. How flourishing blue bursts of Heart power thrived to the heavens, bundled intimately with their rightful stars before shooting back to the grand leagues of the cosmos, contently settling back into the partisans known as the World Order. Yet even as so much wonder spilled around him, the heaviness and love in his heart could only focus forward.

Kairi burned like a supernova even amidst the workings of a miracle.

Sora's form found itself draped against that curved tree as a sunny day held overhead, the gradual shift in temperature from the sea serving as a sign to the changing of seasons. Christmas was a day he truly intended to spend at the islands now, surrounded by the best of friends and the greatest of family.

Not to mention her.

"There's a view I wanna recreate for her." Simple as that. The heat of embarrassment, any drifts of uncertainty, there simply wasn't anything intending to hook and anchor him into the prospect of nervousness. For a change, Sora was certain. "Something that me and her alone really got to see."

"Instead of apart, for my Christmas present to her, I want to make sure we can watch it side by side."

Almost as if answering that agonized wish they both shared once upon a time. How they should've crossed to travel together or to stay together.

@tenebrave

[bloodredx]

@gi-ie-ru

Ornate Leaf Slug (Elysia ornata), family Plakobranchidae, San Juan, Puerto Rico

photograph by Magali Marquez-Ramos

[diy-ke]

an october playlist for u, embark on a listening journey if u dare >:)

[leyiorr]

i wonder what i look like in your eyes.

gojo ⋮ geto ⋮ sukuna ⋮ toji ⭑ how they see you and what you are to them.

¡! wc: 1.1k

¡! genre: tooth-rotting fluff, awful + contagious cases of lovesick men, you're literally their reason for existence

¡! an: i dropped this on another account but then abandoned it so its being posted here lolz!

☆ - satoru gojo ⋮ a nebula

when it comes to satoru, he's always been alone in his orbit. a level of his own. he's a god among the mortal race; both blessed and cursed to walk the earth. he's his own galaxy - the brightest and the boldest.

yet his galaxy is unbearably lonely. it's expansive, a cosmic canvas of infinite possibilites. it's an inky black celestial wonder, one that leaves a hollow feeling in his chest.

until he meets you, and you become the only being in existence allowed to orbit with him. you're his nebula, chaotic and disorted yet so effortlessly the most beautiful element of his galaxy.

you blaze in brilliant, radiant light; core searing it's permeant place in the midnight backdrop. you illuminate the space with shades of the deepest indigo and violets, mingled with wisps of turquoise and teal. crimson and oranges are vibrant in your centre.

the colour stretches into the void forming intricate patters, ones he finds himself untangling to better understand you.

in the silence of space, your nebula spoke volumes; comforting him at his worst, lulling his mind into dreamless sleep. your edges are softer, the colours more muted as you bleed into him. no one can tell where you begin and he ends.

you are so so small in comparison to the void, but so unbearably bright that you light it all with practiced ease. he tends to watch in awe as you decorate his solar system; nursing new stars to weave into his soul.

with you there, his universe becomes easier to live in, easier to navigate. you're a cloud of interstellar stardust - held together by the gravitational attraction of satoru's galaxy.

☆ - suguru geto ⋮ the artist

to suguru, you're the best thing that's happened to him. ever.

anyone who sees him with you knows. they know he's infatuated, enamoured. he's so far gone that people often think that he's been blinded by love, but he has simply never felt an emotion so intense.

with you he thinks he truly sees the world in all it's glory, innocent and pure. with you he traverses unpolluted by the atrocities of the world, you who colours his world.

he looks at you like you personally hang the stars in the sky when night rolls around, like you paint the sorbet sunsets by hand. he stares at you adoringly, as if you chose the colour of the sea and dusted white on the peaks of mountains to keep them warm.

he peers at you like you solely gift the flowers with their petals, dipping them in shades you deem beautiful enough. like you create the sand from scratch and lay it in pretty semi-lunar shapes next to the ocean.

he gazes at you like diamonds were invented in tribute to your tears, like you drew the prettiest landscapes alone in the quiet, before the age of humanity.

he studies you like you've sculpted the very shape of his heart - every ventricle and atrium handcrafted with your pretty fingers. as if his very existence was molded by you, hence why you fit so perfectly together; two pieces of a puzzle.

he could stare at you for hours and days on end, eyes full of love for the person who introduces him to a plethora of hues and tones that he imprints on the back of his eyelids when he sleeps.

☆ - ryomen sukuna ⋮ the breath of life

sukuna is not a good person. everybody knows that. he's taken innocent lives, sapping their energy like it's nothing. he's all-powerful; he stands amongst the deities - gods who have the capacity to bend fate to their will.

but after millennia of having everything under his rule, he's gotten bored. he has servants to order as he pleases but nothing they do entertains him. the god of death is bored, embarrassingly so.

until he acquires something known as a significant other, the other half of his soul as the humans say. you're his breath of life, a release of old, stagnant energy. it's as if you breathe vitality into everything you touch, all life forms flocking to you naturally.

you're so much softer than he, touch delicate yet profound, an ethereal caress that lights sparks in his eyes. he tends to linger quietly by your side when you walk in the garden he constructed just for you - though he would never tell you that.

wildflowers are coaxed into bloom with you around, their colours a testament to your nurturing touch. the dew-laden grass basks in your presence, gleaming a shade brighter than before. even the trees seem to gravitate toward you, branches reaching for you as you pass by, their leaves sighing in contentment.

sukuna's convinced the waves follow your pace, each push and pull matches your breathing.

you were the essence of renewal. his world had found it's pulse, it's rhythm, as you dance the unending dance of life in the centre. you sustain his beating heart, so sukuna's oddly content with merely watching.

☆ - toji fushiguro ⋮ a lover

toji sees you as not only a lover, but the lover. the only one he will have in this life and the next. there's no after you. it's a forever kinda thing.

something so simple as the title of 'lover' is so complex for toji, a man who's a veteran assassin, a man who previously had no regard for anyone else.

you're the only person toji promises to protect, to never lie to, to make happy for as long as his heart pumps and his chest rises with each breath. you're a miracle gifted to him by the gods - though he doesn't know what he's done to deserve it.

he's rough around the edges but with your standing as 'lover', you smooth him out.

he subconsciously thinks of you, always worrying for your satefy. you must be a deep ocean of the emotion known as 'passion' because he's willingly drowning, not even looking for shore.

toji looks at you like you're an extension of himself, the other half of him that the deities intended for him to find. he can't remember times before you or imagine a future without you.

he makes a deal of reminding you that you are his, just as he is completely and utterly yours. as his lover you hold his bloody, beating heart in your hands; he knows you'll keep it safe.

he stares at you like you'll disappear; like he's not even sure you actually exist. you love a man like him after all - that's a miracle in itself.

[meirimerens]

pathologic fest day 14-15

"Strange Room"

The veneer of sap, the stain of salve — the still, syrupy sea. (the spiral rooms of the newly-completed Stillwater)

[azaharinflames]

Just wanted to take a quick moment to be a sap and say how much I appreciate this space and the people in it.

Last week was incredibly hard on us. We received hate when we truly were expecting comfort, and it was made worse by the juxtaposition of what we had been offering previous to that night. We chose to be the bigger person, to not fall into tricks and to ignore the hate to spread love and positivity. And yet we still got hate. And the people who did the hate got a ‘victory’ of sorts.

But. Not want to focus on that.

I want to focus on how damn good this space has been. Because we decided to keep being the bigger person - to take our issues with the storyline and the people involved in it to the SM team and ABC, but didn’t go out of our way to hate or harass people (Oliver being called out for his comments entirely justified and not harassment).

We made sure Lou knew how appreciated and loved he was. That we didn’t hate him because there wasn’t a reason to. That we would still support him, and were feeling indignant in his name. And he responded in kindness and being as sweet as ever.

We kept this a safe space to vent, rant, and yeah - be frustrated. Because we were in our right to feel so and express so, and because we knew this was staying inside this space / blogs, and we weren’t taking actions that could be harmful for others.

We let each other feel the pain and frustration, and tried to make it better. We all adopted Lou overnight. Some of us welcomed SWAT into our lives as a fix it and an attempt to feel better and discover something new.

Honestly - thank you all for making this a safe space, where only occasionally I have to block someone that infiltrates it in order to cause chaos. We were lost in a sea of chaos and hate, and made sure to grab enough lifeboats for all of us.

And yeah there have been people who have gone a step too far in our side as well, and I do not condone it. But overall this space has remained safe in a way we all needed.

So. Honestly I don’t care about the ep tonight, I don’t want to make it mess with my European time zone and sleep schedule. So I’ll probably make myself some tea to sleep and will probably take a pill for it too (because I got naturally used to wake up when the episode was airing), and there is a high chance I will just turn off my phone and only check it tomorrow, when I feel like it.

But tonight, before doing any of that - I wanted to be a sap and thank all of you ♥️ it’s been a hard week, but we’ve made it. And we can make as many as we want 🫶🏻

[kawowoa]

a snapshot of nanami’s life after shibuya

info : everyone lives n no one dies trope, gn. reader, nanami and reader are married, reader in their late fifties, nanami in his early fifties, he’s kinda pathetic for reader, old married couple !!!! not proofread

nanami couldn’t believe how far his life has come. the dream of living along the beach side, lounging away on his balcony that overlooked the sea coming to fruition. he doesn’t regret leaving the jujutsu society knowing this is his life now.

it was almost twenty years ago that the trajectory of his life changed—one that made him realize that life wasn’t for him. he earned his scars, now it was time to rest. the shibuya incident still lives in his mind, half of his body a constant reminder of what happened and what he went through.

if it wasn’t for you, he would’ve been dead; falling into a delusion of his hopeful future life on the beach as his body worked overtime trying to fend of a ward of transfigured humans, who lost there lives to the curses and curse users that put them to that terrible fate. dead would engulf him if you didn’t show up in time with that worried look on your face, calling out to him. you were his savior, someone he knew he wouldn’t mind spending the rest of his life with.

“ken! i’m back!” setting the book down on the side table, he watches from the lounge chair as you head straight to the balcony, that same wide grin you held for years for him on your face. even with your age you still had energy as if you were in your twenties.

you stood in front of him, beaming brightly like you were his personal sun. your crows feet extenuating your bright look. he felt your hands cup his face, your lips peppering kisses along his forehead, even pressing one against his eyepatch. “you’re growing your first grey hair, ken! you’re gonna be catching up to me soon!” you teased, running your fingers through his blonde hair as you leaned over him. the grey hair in question was hard to spot, located on his hairline, seamlessly blending into the rest of his hair.

nanami shook his head, catching your hand in his, running his fingers against the thinning skin of your knuckles. “haha, of course. i wouldn’t mind, i get to match with you.”

you waved nanami off, laughing away with that sweet voice of yours. “oh please! you’re such a sap.”

“it’s true, your hair is beautiful now” his gentle hands tucked a stray piece of your greying hair behind your ear, mimicking the way you just held his face.

you grinned, pressing a kiss to his knuckle before pulling away. the wind swept in between your hair as you gazed at the sun setting beneath the waves. “the days about to end, let’s go to the beach.”

it was nice living on the beach, heading the waves crash against the shore and the seagulls chirping as they flew. the summer days weren’t nanami’s favorite, the heat annoyed him, but at these times where the sun wasn’t melting him and the mixing colors of the sky draped across your body giving it a nice glow was his favorite. he loved looking at you when you were laughing and tugging him along the sand.

you made him and his soul smile.

“i love you, you know that?” nanami tugged you closer as your feet stepped onto the wet sand, the waves tickling against your ankles. “im glad to be here with you.”

“i love you too, im sure anyone would be able to see that” you leaned against him, staring up the stars that began to peek out from the clouds as the sun finally set beneath the ocean. “i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[shotmrmiller]

y'all know davy jones who can only step on land once every decade?

right, make that Simon, but he's something else.

He shows up hours before someone's passing. An inky nondescript shadow that blends into the background, unnoticed by most. But to those whose final specks of sand trickle through their hourglass?

They see him.

An entity condemned to a lifetime of servitude. A wretched, pitiful existence. Something that saps the life out of everything it touches. Something that can't feel the warm rays of the sun seep into his skin, can't smell petrichor in the dewy morning, when the world begins to wake.

He lives yet he doesn't. An eternity of suffering, of wishing he never begged for a way out of the braided strands of hemp that had tightened around his neck for his crimes so long ago.

His freedom forfeit the moment he pleaded for it.

With a lantern that glows an eerie green, he leads deceased souls to their final destination, even the ones who resist, who cling futilely to life, to what is no longer theirs.

Some might call him death, others Hermes. The only name he's ever cared for is his own, the one that his mother had given him back when men still sailed the seas in search of treasure, when men and women alike were hung at the gallows.

But now he is a nameless servant of the natural order that guides them all.

However, he was also given a boon. One single day, out of every ten years, the tight collar around his neck comes off, and he turns human.

A man of flesh and blood.

His lungs fill with the crisp, biting air that he never feels. Cheeks sting from the cold. Fingertips numb without gloves.

For one blessed night, the heart in his chest beats. For one blessed night, his body is warm, flush with life.

And it's been this way for as long as he can remember. He would roam the docks of back then, the briny air stinging his nose, the dulled thumping of hooves resounding in his ears. The chants of drunken men coming from inside lit taverns.

He roamed when cars began to be a form of transportation, when children, boys, began marching to war.

He had been so busy, then.

And he roams now, in the modern age, where medicine forestalls the inescapable.

But then, you. Blood rushes to his face the moment he lays eyes on you. His throat dries, turns to the paper that's used to strip paint.

He's never seen something so beautiful. So plump with vitality, life coursing through your veins. A sweet little thing, whose dulcet voice makes his knees weak.

And when you shake hands with him, palm engulfed in his much larger one, as you ask him for his name, his tongue feels as if it's coated with tar, swollen and heavy. But he garbles out his response anyway.

"Simon."

The way you breathe it back, like a sigh from a lover, could still his heart.

Everything else is a blur, his eyes only ever focused on you when he ends up in your arms, in between your spread thighs, inviting him where no creature such as he belongs.

But he's always yearned for what was never his, and so with fervor, he takes. Grabs at soft skin, and whimpers at the fact that you're not dead with his touch. Surrenders himself to you, completely; makes the little dove under him sing until the short arm on the clock gets close to 12.

This is where he departs, with a promise he swears to never break, and wrenches his heart out of his own chest, placing it in your gentle hands.

He swears to come back for it, once every ten years.

Whenever Simon turns back to whatever he's cursed with being, he keeps a keen eye on you. And then the one time he passes by, feeling like nothing but an artic breeze to you, he sees your life is close to an end.

Simon, for once in his pathetic existence, saves a human life. The car that crashes into you at a lethal speed, does nothing but total your vehicle. It is considered an absolute miracle to everyone, except you.

That should've been your demise. That should've been it.

His little dove, too smart for her own good.

The time will soon come again, and when his head rests on your chest, listening to the lulling sounds of your heart beating, will he tell you what he is.

(maybe, or not idk)

"It's a heady tonic. Holding life and death in the palm of your own hand."