#sponge fins above

[clowncaraz-journal]

focus.

[xenvaei]

you're gonna hear me out on this one

[vestaignis]

Кузовок-кубик Ostracion cubicus.

Обитает в водах Тихого и Индийского океанов в районах рифов, а также в Атлантическом океане у юго-западного побережья Африки.Продолжительность жизни в среднем составляет до 6 лет.

Это достаточно крупная рыба, максимальная длина тела до 45 см. Основной отличительной характеристикой данного вида рыб является кубическая форма его тела. Молодые представители отряда иглобрюхообразных имеют длину до 4 см и яркий желтый оттенок с редким вкраплением контрастных тёмных пятнышек. С течением времени тело рыбки может терять свою необычную форму, вытягиваясь, и приобретать грязно-коричневый оттенок, при этом серединка посветлевших пятен становится голубой. Тело кубика защищено костными пластинами, образующие достаточно крепкий ��анцирь. Благодаря подобному строению рыба способна отлично защищаться от хищников. Кроме того, кубики при ранении или тревоге могут выделять через кожу токсичную слизь, вырабатываемую в кишечнике и накапливающуюся в печени. Она способна убивать любую оказавшуюся поблизости рыбу. При этом, у кузовок-кубиков нет колючих игл, а лучи плавничков - мягкие. Грудными плавниками эти рыбки прогоняют воду через жабры, а не только используют их для плавания.

Обитают в защищенных лагунах и рифах. Ведут бентопелагический образ жизни. Молодняк часто встречается среди жестких кораллов Акропора. Обычная глубина обитания до 50 м. Максимальная зарегистрированная глубина обитания составила 280 м. Кузовки-кубики очень пугливы и при опасности прячутся в гуще кораллов. Встречаются поодиночке. Питается водорослями, различными беспозвоночными, моллюсками, губками. В период размножения у кузовков существуют брачные игры: самец кружится вокруг самки и затем они подымаются высоко над рифом, иногда даже к поверхности воды.

Cube fish Ostracion cubicus.

It lives in the waters of the Pacific and Indian Oceans in reef areas, as well as in the Atlantic Ocean off the southwest coast of Africa. Life expectancy is on average up to 6 years.

This is a fairly large fish, the maximum body length is up to 45 cm. The main distinguishing characteristic of this fish species is the cubic shape of its body. Young representatives of the pufferfish order have a length of up to 4 cm and a bright yellow hue with rare interspersed contrasting dark spots. Over time, the body of the fish can lose its unusual shape, stretching out, and acquire a dirty brown hue, while the middle of the lightened spots becomes blue. The body of the cube is protected by bone plates, forming a fairly strong shell. Thanks to this structure, the fish is able to defend itself from predators. In addition, when injured or alarmed, cubes can secrete toxic mucus through the skin, which is produced in the intestines and accumulates in the liver. It is capable of killing any fish that is nearby. At the same time, cube boxfish do not have prickly needles, and the rays of the fins are soft. These fish use their pectoral fins to push water through their gills, and not only use them for swimming.

They live in protected lagoons and reefs. They lead a benthopelagic lifestyle. Juveniles are often found among hard Acropora corals. The usual habitat depth is up to 50 m. The maximum recorded habitat depth was 280 m. Cube boxfish are very timid and hide in the thick of corals when in danger. They are found alone. They feed on algae, various invertebrates, mollusks, and sponges. During the breeding season, boxfish have mating games: the male circles around the female and then they rise high above the reef, sometimes even to the surface of the water.

Источник: //www.egypt-divers.ru/redsea-fauna/ryiba-kuzovok, /dzen.ru/a/Y2Nw1mZlZVQOmx-Z,/ru.wikipedia.org/wiki/Кузовок-кубик#:~:text=Кузовок-кубик%20(лат.,у%20юго-западного %20 побережья%20Африки.,/ru.pinterest.com/pin/141159769543881080/, multiurok.ru/blog/morskaia-ryba-kuzovok-kubik.html,/aquarium-style.ru/morskaya-akvariumistika/morskie-ryby/skorpenoobraznye-kambaloobraznye-skalozuboobraznye-udilshchikoobraznye /item / body-cube.html,/animals.pibig.info/12145-ryba-kuzovok-kubik.html.

[bestanimal]

Round 3 - Chondrichthyes - Heterodontiformes

(Sources - 1, 2, 3, 4)

While several extinct genera of Heterodontiformes are known from the Jurassic, today only one genus, Heterodontus, the “Bullhead Sharks” remains. Ten living species of bullhead shark have been described.

Bullhead sharks are relatively small, with the largest species reaching just 1.65 metres (5.5 ft) in maximum length. They have tapered bodies, with blunt, proportionally large heads, relatively small mouths, pig-like snouts, and pronounced ridges above their eyes. They have two large dorsal fins, the first larger than the second, and an anal fin. Both dorsal fins have a rigid spine at the front of each fin which is used for defense. Bullhead Sharks are bottom feeders in tropical and subtropical waters. They have cusped grasping teeth at the front of the mouth, and flattened teeth at the back of the mouth. They use the flattened teeth at the back of their mouth to crush hard-shelled prey like bivalves, crustaceans, and sea urchins, and the grasping teeth on soft-bodied prey like worms, anemones, and octopuses. They hunt at night by "walking" along the sea floor with alternating motions of their pectoral and pelvic fins.

Bullhead shark egg cases are shaped like an auger, with two spiral flanges. This allows the egg cases to become wedged in the crevices of rocky sea floors, where the eggs are protected from predators; however, some bullhead sharks deposit their eggs on sponges or seaweed. Due to their spiral shape, each egg case requires several hours to rotate out of the mother shark's cloaca (Oof). She usually lays two at a time. The eggs typically hatch after 7 to 12 months, depending on the species. The pups will usually reach over 14 cm in length by the time they leave the egg case.

The Heterodontiforms appear in the fossil record in the Early Jurassic, with modern forms appearing in the Late Jurassic. Despite the very ancient origins of the genus, phylogenetic evidence indicates that all living species in the genus arose from a single common ancestor that survived the K-Pg extinction.

Propaganda under the cut:

Female Japanese Bullhead Sharks (Heterodontus japonicus) are known to deposit their eggs in communal nests, with as many as 15 eggs left in the same nest.

Horn Sharks (Heterodontus francisci) (image 2) have relatively small territories they hunt in at night, returning to the same “house” during the day. They may remain faithful to the same territory for over a decade. Now that’s a homebody.

Horn Sharks are queued by light rather than by an internal clock. In laboratory settings, they will become active as soon as lights are turned off. If they are in the middle of something when the lights are turned on, they may stop swimming and sink to the bottom. In one experiment where the sharks were kept in darkness, they remained continuously active for 11 days before slowing from fatigue. (☹️)

The Horn Shark generates the highest known bite force relative to its size of any shark, which it uses to crack into mollusks, echinoderms, and crustaceans. One study found the average bite force for this species in the wild to be 95 N with a maximum of 135 N, while under experimental conditions sharks could be induced to bite with over 200 N of force.

Female Horn Sharks in the wild pick up their egg cases in their mouths and wedge them into crevices to keep them safe.

In July 2018, three people were arrested after stealing a juvenile Horn Shark from the San Antonio Aquarium. The shark was scooped out of its tank and smuggled out of the aquarium in a stroller, wrapped in a wet blanket. It was thankfully returned unharmed two days later.

The Crested Bullhead Shark (Heterodontus galeatus) (image 4) produces spiral-shaped egg capsules that are secured to seaweed or sponges with long tendrils.

The Crested Bullhead Shark is a major predator of the eggs of the Port Jackson Shark! Individual sharks have been observed taking the egg capsules in their mouths and chewing on the tough casing, rupturing it and allowing the yolk to be sucked out, or simply swallowing the capsules whole.

The Port Jackson Shark (Heterodontus portusjacksoni) (image 1) is a migratory species, traveling south in the summer and returning north to breed in the winter. Males tend to arrive to the breeding grounds first with the females arriving later and staying later, perhaps as a means to reduce egg predation upon their newly laid eggs.

While juvenile Port Jackson Sharks are not particularly social, adults are often seen resting in caves in groups, and prefer to associate with specific sharks based on sex and size. In lab settings, these sharks were shown to have unique personality traits and preferences, can be trained, can count, and can learn by watching other sharks.

[critter-creature-or-beast]

"(Drawn for the 2019 Lanzendorf contest by Christian M) “Wonderful Life” Deep in the early Cambrian ocean, below the shadow of the Cathedral Escarpment (A giant rock shelf formation), life goes on as normal. Bioluminescent Amiskwia swim in groups, trying to escape the carnivorous Opabinia. It can walk on the sea floor with legs, or swim through the water with undulating fins. Among the algae, strange sponge relatives called Choia exist, holding themselves just above the rock surface. Hallucigenia sparsa feed on the marine snow that falls, catching it on hairy tentacles and shoving it in their mouths. Aysheaia feed on sponges called Vauxia, which grow on the rocky substrate. Preying on hard shelled animals like trilobites, using its armoured antennae to break open armour, Anomalocaris dwarfs everything. It is followed closely by a shoal of Pikaia, which survive by feeding the scraps left behind when Anomalcaris finishes messily ingesting it’s prey with a horrifying circular mouth part. It can see Opabinia with the best eyes that would ever evolve for millions of years, only rivalled by dragonflies and possibly griffinflies. The Opabinia, though it has 5 compound eyes, still has a more limited resolution, and doesn’t notice the Anomalocaris swimming towards it through the gloom of the depths."

By PaleoEquii - Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0

[xxmaxwellxx]

Hello! Me again! I’ve finished writing another story. Again, any constructive criticism and feedback is appreciated! I’m also thinking of making another part to both the stalker story and this one. If anyone is interested in something like that please comment, dm me or send a request! As always sorry for any errors, I’m slightly dyslexic and if I missed anything in the warnings please tell me so I can fix it! (Also if anyone has any requests please don’t hesitate to send one in! I’m trying to grow my account and be better at writing so requests are very helpful!)

Tw: merman, general Yandere behavior (body horror? No gore just a very unique merman)

Gn reader (referred to with they/them pronouns!)

The seagulls screeching above are oddly comforting. Over my time as a researcher, I've learned that if the seagulls aren’t flying overhead, a storm is near. And luckily for me, the seagulls are in the sky and very vocal. I grab a shrimp from my dads cooler and throw it up towards the birds, watching one swoop down and grab it before joining the others. I always admired how intelligent they were, following boats in the hopes of getting food. I reach back into the cooler for another shrimp before my dad yells at me, “Hey!” I whip around at his voice, “Don't waste all our bait on some gulls! If you keep feeding them, they're going to swoop down and eat all our shrimp!” I giggle at his words. He's always lectured me about feeding the birds. The boat slows to a stop and my dad leaves the wheelhouse and lowers the anchor as I take my sweater off and put my flippers on. I wore my favorite sweater over my wetsuit, the wind out at sea surprisingly cold.

My dad sets up his fishing rod at the edge of the boat and I go to the other side to avoid his fishing line. He always fishes when I go diving, not to eat but to keep himself entertained while I'm gone. He never keeps the fish, just writing down the type of fish, how big and how old he thinks it is before throwing it back. He has multiple notebooks he keeps on his boat from years back when mom would go diving. She was always my role model, she was the reason I got my degree in marine biology and my scuba permit. She was the reason behind gaining a passion for fish, the reason my room was filled to the brim with marine animal stuffed animals. She had to stop diving, when I was young she got sick, and it was too dangerous for her, but that's why I'm here. I'm going to continue her studies for her, so she can still see the ocean she loved so much from her bed.

Putting my goggles and mouthpiece on, I excitedly roll off the deck and into the water. Right below me is a magnificent coral reef filled to the brim with color. Hustling and bustling with fish of all colors of the rainbow. Clown fish in the anemones, iridescent parrot fish, yellow butterfly fish, stripped Angelfish, a few yellow finned Damselfish, Surgeonfish and small Goby all swimming in and out, over and under the coral. I take out my camera and snap a few photos, not just for mom, but also for the other researchers back at the lab. They sent me out with a few videography robots to study the effects global warming has had on the reefs, but I don't think they'd mind if I snuck a few to my mom. I drift further and further away from my dads boat, distracted by taking photos.

A few photos of the vibrant parrot fish, a few of clown fish seeking residence in sea anemones, a few of the small goby fish and a lot of the vibrant coral. I keep wandering further, always keeping the boat in view when something catches my eye. A hole. A large hole. No, not a hole, a sea cave. I peer inside and see dots of color. I wouldn't hurt to venture in, would it? For science, I tell myself, for research and the betterment of knowledge, I tell myself, but I know I'm just too curious for my own good. Upon my entrance I see various seaweed, algae and sea sponge species. The further I go, the less light. The less light, the more things produce their own. I see a few small fish and algae glow but something big catches my eye, something really big, too big, and oh so colorful. Swirls of orange and blue and too humanoid to be a fish, but too fish to be human. It has what looks like hair, long and glowing blue on one side and orange on the other, with many streaks of the opposite color mixed in. a long tail with swirls of the same colors, and it goes up it's body onto what looks like a torso and arms. It has arms? Why would a fish have arms? Cave dweller or not, fish are not supposed to have arms.

I quickly pull out my camera, I have to document this. What I didn't account for was the automated flash, it has a light sensor and if it's too dark, the flash turns on. Suddenly the cave is lit up with light from my camera. I panic and fiddle with my camera, trying desperately to turn off the automated flash, but my efforts are in vain. A clawed hand grabs the lens, and I turn my attention to the creature in front of me. A wave of fear washes over me as I look up to a humanoid face, my heart rate picks up as I notice the scowl he wears. I start to hyperventilate as he leans in closer and reaches a hand out towards my face. A clawed hand coming towards my face. He's going to hurt me, isn't he? My fight or flight kicks in and in my panic I choose fight.

I quickly raise my legs and kick him in the stomach, making him curl into himself and let go of my camera and propelling me away from him. While he's distracted, I grab my falling camera and rush out of the cave and towards the boat. I didn't notice how late it's gotten, the sun setting over the horizon as I pull my self out of the water and onto the ledge. I quickly dislodge my mouthpiece and throw my goggles further onto the boat, trying to regulate my breathing once again. What was that? Human? Fish? Some kind of sick hybrid? Should I tell dad? Tell the team? Did I even get a clear picture of that thing? If news gets out, what will the press say? What will the scientists do? If it has the conscience of a human, it will be cruel to report on it. What if someone hurts them? Kills them? What do I even do?

My thoughts are broken by my dads voice, “Everything alright?” he always asks that after I come up, but he sounds worried this time. “Yeah… Yeah, I'm fine.” I'm lying through my teeth, I know it, and I'm pretty sure he knows with the look he gives me “Well, if you're sure. I made dinner while you were gone. It's on the table whenever you're ready.” he tips his hat and walks away, presumably to go eat the aforementioned dinner. I sigh and take off my oxygen tank, hanging it with the others before going below deck to take a shower.

My dad snores in his bed as I eat the dinner he made. Vegetable dumplings with a side of soy sauce and ramen. Simple, easy to make and oh so good. He always made the best food. I'm scrolling through my camera roll as I eat, checking if my team can use any of the photos I took when it pops up. I almost drop my dumpling when I see it. The creature on my camera roll, slightly blurry but still visible with glowing eyes. I want to throw up. He's objectively beautiful, but he's earth shaking. Merfolk aren't real, they're evolutionary impossible, and yet here he is. I suddenly don't have an appetite anymore, it's too much to handle. I put my food in the fridge and lay in my bed. What am I going to tell my team? What am I going to tell dad? That despite every odd on the planet, merfolk are real, and I had an encounter with one? They're going to think I'm crazy, right? What about the picture? Would that really be enough proof for them? Would they accuse me of editing the picture? What possible excuse could I come up with to explain it? If they do believe me, I don't want them to hurt him. Would it just be best to delete it? Export the photo off the camera and keep it for myself? These thoughts keep me up well past my bedtime.

Something is off. I feel like I'm being watched. I turn my gaze from the ceiling to the glass floor. It's him. The thing from the cave. It smiles, reveling razor sharp teeth. What have I gotten myself into?

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

They're mine. It was set in stone when we met.

When I heard of the cave shells, I knew I had to check it out. Supposedly there were shells that glow in the dark and I just had to get my hands on one. Avoiding the moray and brushing aside small lantern fish, I make my way deep into the cave. I've been there for a solid hour, going from tunnel searching the sand. I was getting frustrated. Where are those shells?! A flash catches my attention. Whipping around, I see a human. They look exactly like the rumors. Humans are real? And what's that box in their hand? What was that light? Was it a mating signal? Do they like me? I swim over to investigate the box, laying my hand on it, the thought crosses my mind. This was probably a mating gift! Immediately after I realize what it is, they kick me and swim off with the box. Humans must be a species that want to be chased before they mate!

I quickly swim after them when they go up above the water onto a strange piece of metal. That must be their home! My suspicions are proven correct when I see them sitting in a strange object and eating. Merfolk only eat in their homes, so it must be the same for humans. They crawl onto something squishy and cover themselves with something.

I dare to get closer to them, my face bonks against something clear, this must be the glass the other merfolk were talking about. I place my hands upon the glass, watching my mate. Eventually they look down at me, my friend Erin told me humans like when you smile, that smiling was a show of friendliness to humans.

Rest assured, little human, the next time you're in water you will be mine. Our mandarin babies will be so cute!~

(Merman is based off a mandarin fish, look them up! Very unique fish!)

[silverhart-makes-art]

This week's Bestiary Posting features a bunch of fun sea creatures! The labeled image and my thoughts for each are below.

Alrittraes - my brain latched onto the idea of this creature being an anemone/sea squirt of some sort. Just this huge invertebrate siphoning so much sea water it creates literal waves on the surface. The description says 'it is alleged that the females conceive by intercourse', and I thought it was an odd thing to remark upon. But if it was a weird sea sponge type thing - yeah, that would be a very odd fact worth including in your bestiary. I don't know how you even begin to figure that out. Blochmokan - it's a sea slug/man-o-war that bobs along the surface. I imagine it can raise and lower it's 'wings' so it can also travel under the water as well as above it. I also drew it very small, when the description literally says it's a sea monster and has "huge wings" so just imagine I drew it very, very far away and it's actually enormous, which it would have to be to be spotted from a ship I would think. Kearmoltir - it's a flying fish, with a dolphin's face, and a serrated back like a stickleback - honestly, a very cool chimera creature. Flying dolphin-fish should be a thing. Meldilragg - I decided to take the term 'swine' literally, and drew a pig's snout, but then the description says they have their mouth in their throat so I did that, and got a very weird shape indeed. From there, I moved it's eyes to the top of it's head so it can see while digging in the sand, and gave it some tassels like the tasseled woebgone, and just gave it a vaguely sharky body shape. Olnranming - goblin shark if it used it's big nose spike for spearing the hulls of ships. Radwahrekh - I went weird for this one. I thought to myself - why would an animal want to saw through a ship? And then I remembered shipworms which burrow into ships. So I drew a spiky shipworm (which is actually a type of mollusk, not a worm) and it looked very unfortunate. So I added more spikes and siphons and frilly things to help. I don't know if it did, but it's certainly something. Shikwaewik - okay, I'm realizing the description specifically says this is a fish and I drew a porpoise. In my defense it "ploughing up the sand with its tail" just seemed like it'd be easier with a horizontal fluke, and I know some dolphins do purposefully kick up sand and mud this way. I then gave it a wolfish face. Gurnwatlea - a sardine, that can fly! Rather then give it a flying fish's big pectoral fins, like I did on the Kearmoltir, I gave a flying fish's big pelvic fins instead. Seems like a very bad way to fly in my opinion, but what do I know?

[tothepointofinsanity]

Pre-Grief Syndrome: Pertinence-salad of Waterbaths

Or: A little mermaid gains her scales.

You could start this literature with a simple remark that blue is the colour of your eyes, and therefore the colour of your Soul, and what dyed your Soul, would, realistically, be coolly associated with your environment; that science of thriving and what society believes.

See, with this line of this-and-that, you found any commentary on such matters have always felt...prosaic, in the sense of commercials placating the consistency of blue skies and palm beaches. Your relatives once held the tips of your hair between their fingers, rubbing it like powder, and the spoken sentiment to follow had always been rather extreme - how blue your hair is, Miki-san, I'm sure your classmates envy you, right?

Recently, memories of the past seem to return in waves, and fade faster than seafoam. Your heart tickles, and at first you think you brushed your Soul Gem a little too tightly, but when your mind draws the past in poor photographs of exposure flairs obscuring faces of what-should-be relatives (family or friends? but either way, they don't seem too memorable now) in the sunset of playgrounds and you curled up besides the running stream dividing the neighborhood sector, you tilt your head to the side, a hypnic jerk between Living and Nonexistence.

(Recently, you start to forget things just a little faster, and each effort to recall even this fresh sting seems to snowball with challenge.)

You are not disturbed by this.

Try as you might, even if you clench your teeth and stand in the middle of the room with your curtains drawn, the low simmer in your body to reach out and encase what little valuable past you recollect burns passion's last, embers of a fire preserved only in the crumbling end of a cigarette. Soon, like itself, you will be discarded and crushed under a heel, completely put-out; nothing personal of the sort, of course (this you know, and this you think), but a matter of moving onto a fresh stick. You contribute in a falling ladder as another rung to be temporarily stepped on. The locomotive which steadily chugged its merry way has derailed into the sea.

Sometimes you see fish swimming in your vision, ghostly fins and tails waving in front of your face, a school of beckoning. When you sleep, your body aches under the dry blast of air conditioning, and you always fall in your dreams the same way you used to practice diving into pools at mandated swimming classes. You yearn for that which will end you, inexorably.

(Do you have any idea how much she has sacrificed to keep you happy?)

The passengers are drowning. You don't know who they are, and you can't feel much for them except for instinctive pity. Second nature had become reflex, misery and its company taking form of familiar (why are they...familiar? Why is she...familiar?) dancers pirouetting around your overcast self.

"There you are."

I'm expiring, you want to tell her, but you cannot even grace her any response. You stand there, in the rain, where your vision has narrowed into a tunnel and faces become even more blurry. Are you underwater? You certainly feel like it. Your body is lightweight - how strange a sensation, when corpses are generally heavy. You raise a hand, not of your own will, but still motorised by a turning heart, a resilient wound-up key, and you close your ears. Of course, everything feels dull and muffled even in the blade of lightning's storm. Puddles gather around your feet, and you don't need to look to know your uniform is soaked, practically a sponge for the wrath of nature.

Still, you stand, if only slightly crooked, over the box of a stray cat in the alleyway, your other hand gripping the umbrella above the animal to prevent it from getting wet.

(Your hand hurts. You don't feel it. Your last bit of good will, and there is a foul 'feeling' when you think that.)

You did it because you can. It seems that your brain is electrified by arbitrary nodes now, a ghostly remnant of something that has upstaged all logic. It reminded you, distantly, of that little newspaper article of fish moving after they're served to the table for consumption.

The cat mewls at you, but you just stare at it, unmoving.

"Hey, what are you doing?" A hand lands on your shoulder. You don't react, at first, when you don't know who this girl is, you decided, even if her eyes reminded you of warm fireplaces and a red eye bearing judgement-

You flinch, battering her hand away.

"...Stop standing under the rain, you idiot. You're going to catch a cold."

But there's water, you want to protest, blue sparkles tinkle the illusionary air, the sound of a violin's drawl in the background, where else could I possibly be?

Even your arms itch, then. You're not sure if you watch to reach out to That Girl or lay them by your side, the corpse to the coffin. Instead, you hug yourself gingerly, not in response to the humid weather, but because they burn. You want to submerge yourself into a tub. There is a tub at home. You want to go home. Rain alone is inadequate to melt the burning frost creeping up on your skin.

"Sayaka! Your hands!" That Girl reaches out, trying to tend to those luminous, rotting scales, but her touch worsens it, like flame to the wings of a moth. Your eyes flutter shut, turning away. Scales, malodorous, oily scales of blue and yellow and ink black flourish a bright, misty rainbow in raindrops.

"Tell me what's going on!"

"Water," you croak out, your voice deeper and distorted than you remembered it to be, "I need water. I want to take a bath."

(I definitely won't regret it!)

And for moment's end, That Girl just looks around. You want to smile, and the muscles of your lips twitch a smidgen in effort despite the vacancy of your eyes. You know that your body remembers something that your mind does not - a brief thought occurs to you that she thinks she can find a bucket wide enough to keep your feet within it for a while. You don't understand why she bothers, and why she bothers with such vulgar methods. A bucket of water would hardly sustain contain you.

(You needed something better. Something that feels like home (what was it that drove you to these depths as the concert undulates with grace?: the ocean.)

"Let's go," she doesn't touch you, doesn't question you, this time, opting to keep a close distance from you as you limp away (since when did your feet feel so heavy on land?), leaving the umbrella against the cat's box.

Even as you know you'll forget it eventually, that sentiment, that sound of rain, that headless flame, you focus on the comfort of slipping into a bath of water at home, surrounded by porcelain walls painted with curling waves and seagulls soaring permanently over them.

Soon there will hail grief — but just before the warned stroke of midnight, you continue to brush scales off your skin, tap water rippling seafoam with each push.

[miano-oscarwilde]

my drawing of Sarga :3

Last night before going to bed I finished reading 'Fins above' by Miroymon @elmani . I wanted to post an appreciation for this great novella. This is the greatest work of xeno-fiction I've ever read. After H. P Lovecraft's The Call of Cthulhu I haven't been able to find something equally interesting. It's about a young catfish named Sarga and his story of revenge against the deep shoal that's responsible for his wife's death. There are different shoals in the sea that are at war with each other. The salt shoal is suffering from pain and loss that the deep shoal has inflicted upon them. Sarga's conflicting identify is part reason why he had to go through a lot of struggles. He is a siren, he's rejected and exiled. He murders the one who killed his wife olila and the one who raped his friend silvur. He sides with the deep shoal as their spy to deceive them and save the salt shoal. Sarga feels no remorse for his actions and hopes that they will save future generations from threats. From my POV Sarga's revenge had a meaning. Later Clayfin makes him realise that revenge is not the solution for his troubles. Because of him, Sarga is brought back to calm and they uncover the meaning of the prophecy of blue flame together. Due to Anchor's death Marlene's rule comes to an end and Agir ascends the throne as kingpin. Though Sarga couldn't become the kingpin he's welcomed back at the salt shoal, where he was brought back to life by shell belly and sponge. Salt shoal is peaceful once again and Silvur has a new glider. Briny is also back with her but that singing voice from the deep shoal calls for another investigation.

Finally a question remains. What is the meaning of the human and merfolk symbol in the castle? Agir asked Marlene but she has no idea what it is about. That is a story to be told another day.

I recommend this novella to everyone, my friends online and offline. I enjoyed it thoroughly, it's fun to imagine each detail about the events and the characters. The author's writing style is what I'd call, savoury. The journey from the beginning to the end was delicious and I even recall certain lines and images when I'm engaged in something else. It has left me with a huge hangover. The description of the shoals and fish, their clay beds, crystals and fishy smell attracted me. I thank the author for making this available to read. There are supporting content like a map of the sea shoals, the wars, character info etc. So take a swim in this ocean of fantasy!

🐡

[quark-nova]

I realized I haven't made a post about larvaceans yet

And like really they're so cool they absolutely deserve it.

Okay so, basically, larvaceans are some of the closest cousins of vertebrates. Which says a lot, but still quite less than one would expect. They're part of the tunicate family, which also gave us sea squirts:

Not very vertebrate-like, admittedly. And salps, pyrosomes and doliolids, which can be described as the higher-budget remake of cnidarians that didn't do as well:

So, where did it all go wrong? And where do larvaceans fit into this?

Basically, tunicates and vertebrates are those siblings that used to work together, but split off after a big creative disagreement. We're both chordates - starting off with a notochord, a flexible rod running along the body - but that's where the similarities end.

We vertebrates decided to capitalize on the notochord, giving it its own armor set - the vertebral column, and ultimately an entire skeleton along with it. Meanwhile, tunicates scrapped the entire notochord thing past the larval stage, instead working on their new "brilliant" idea: cellulose armor, or, as their branding goes - the tunic.

Yep, that right. They're the only animals capable of synthesizing cellulose - one of the best materials across all biological kindgoms - and they ended up commiting a little too much to the bit, becoming cellulose sponge and cellulose jelly. And, in the process, losing any semblance of familiarity they once had.

Except for one.

You see, while sea squirts, salps and friends invested everything - even their own lives - in that new and dubious project, another group decided to be a little smarter about it. They wouldn't become cellulose monsters, no - they would use it as a building material, designing refined submarines to travel the oceans in.

Enter the larvacean.

Don't be mistaken - the larvacean is only the tadpole-like creature in the middle of the picture. The rest? Part of the elaborate filtration system of its submarine. Which also comes with directional fins, ventilation, and even an emergency exit while we're at it.

Now, the larvacean got everything right where its brothers got everything wrong. Keep the notochord - it's useful to avoid becoming a hapless blob floating in the middle of the ocean. Keep an air of familiarity - you've got a head, a tail, that's at least a decent basis for an animal. Basically, stick with the original body plan.

And then, build cool stuff. Like - spaceship level of cool stuff. And then leave it a few hours later and build another one, and repeat, because that's really all the fun.

Okay, so, you might be asking - how on Earth is that efficient? Why would any creature go to such lengths to build an elaborate spaceship often a meter long, just to abandon it every few hours?

The answer is: free food. Like - a ridiculous amount of free food. It turns out, larvaceans live in that layer of the ocean where organic stuff from above floats into. And, with the innovative larvacean technology, all of it can be scooped out into the submarine's filters, going directly into the creature's mouth.

And this process is absurdly effective - so much that larvaceans actually make up a massive portion of the deep ocean's life, scooping out all of the food coming from above. So much that their filters usually get clogged after a few hours. And, since they get so many organic materials as to basically be playing in creative mode, they can literally drop the whole thing and rebuild another house on the spot.

(Larvaceans are class Appendicularia here, in light blue. Oh yeah, forgot to mention they're bioluminescent too)

Oh, and you might be wondering - what happen to the myriad of discarded larvacean houses? Turns out they sink to the bottom of the ocean, with all the organic stuff caught inside - except, hopefully, for the larvacean itself. And that's actually the main way food and stuff from the surface gets to the abyss! (along with the more spectacular but much much rarer whalefalls)

And that's also the main way plastic also gets to the abyss. That's right, these creatures are the reason why we only find 1% of the plastic we throw away in the oceans - everything else gets packaged by larvaceans scooping around (turns out they can differentiate between plastic and food, they just don't care) and sent straight down to the abyss. They decided that our pollution wasn't their problem, and that they'll gladly send it to their downstair neighbours. Which should probably not be taken as the moral of this story, although I don't think they'd care either way.

[fullfrontalfish]

You have a species listed as a clear fin lion fish, when it’s a fu Manchu lion fish. It’s identified by the barbels, the shorter spines, and the eye spots above the tail. I’m not trying to be rude, but I thought I’d let you know. Lovely little species of dwarf lion

I WAS STRUGGLING SO HARD TRYING TO ID THAT ONE ALSKDLDL

Listen, real talk. I am, first and foremost, a fucking idiot. Always feel free to reach out and correct me if I've made a mistake; the only reason I've made it this far is because so many of you guys are sponges of knowledge for all things marine biology. I still have to sing the stupid song to remember what order animal classifications go in, I genuinely don't know how you guys retain so much

[clowncaraz-journal]

marked up for the party.

full on telegram 💕

[xenvaei]

Transing of the gender in merfolk vs mimic societies (within Fins Above) has always been a thing - the merfolk just dont call it transgender because gender and sex don't exist in their culture. for the mimics, they cannot abide by letting biology change their parts naturally - no - they must do it by surgery and hormones.

Framwhisker and Sponge are both representing trans beasts - woman and "man" respectively.

On one side, Framwhisker is a woman who is not delicate outside of sex, money, romance, writing, and friends. She is a force to be reckoned with. She transitioned later in life when she realized that she couldn't do it anymore. Where being a buck wouldn't fucking work. But she's proud that she was a buck. Framwhisker loves her facial hair, she loves her buff arms, she loves her fit form - but she absolutely will flaunt her tits and her ass and is post op and has an attractive build because of it. She's masculine and she loves being masculine - just not a buck. She even sees herself as a mother to Zaletooth.

For Sponge, he's a buck who uses his masculinity as a way to show that he survived being a maid. That the troubles coming with maidhood hurt him so bad that he never connected with it in fear of reliving it. Ever since, he has been stronger and has shown more power from being able to control his environment and what he gets to live with. He's not a soft boy, he is hardened by the death of his entire immediate family and fears that he will die by his own hands everyday. The buck has top scars, a heavy chest, scars from battle, and a penis - but has no shame in submitting for his wife, has no shame in being gentle for her and her only. his eyes - known to be wide - will soften just for her. He is masculine and shows that with little feminity, even in his seer outfits, he has his chest out to show that he can finally breathe with respect.

I have other queer characters like Starscale, who is nonbinary, Driftwave, who is asexual, and Matthew - who is uranian. These characters have so much to them that none of them will ever be explained in 3 words. Framwhisker's gender was pushed back on because transitioning was seen as immoral and cost her spot in the army. Sponge's transition was ignored for some time because he was still a child, and transitioning in merfolk society is seen as a mating tactic for adults.

[thecozykirin]

The Recipe to Success

( Daily Writing Challenge Day 2 ) Ethel Translations: Babblin Brook: Cook Grasshopper: Copper - - - - - - - - -

"The issue is that ya fin' too 'ard." Etheline's voice barely stirred Soo-ha from her despair. The Gilnean woman scrubbed hard at the burnt...whatever Soo-ha had been trying to make in hopes of salvaging the pot as the small Pandaren herself looked on in sadness at her charred failure.

There were few times in her life where Soo-ha had felt the sting of inadequacy, but this felt like the sharp twist of a knife. / After all, what Pandaren doesn't know how tah cook? / The words from the Countrypaw she had met during one of her city strolls whispered in her ear with far more venom than had been present when it was said. Soo-ha knew that she hadn't meant anything by it, but that did not make the truth sting any less. Soo-ha didn't know how to cook, nothing above heating up a simple bowl of broth.

"Ey." Soo-ha jumped a bit at the small woman's sharp tone and golden eyes lifted meekly to meet stern hazel.

"Ya kna, there's nah shame in not bein' able ter babblin' brook." Etheline tapped the scrubbing sponge several times against herself. "Sum people fin' Gilneans can't babblin' brook worf a grasshopper but we've seen that's not true, ah? so why assume every Pandaren can? I doubt you're th' hirst 'oo can't."

The edges of Soo-ha's lips twitched upwards briefly as she deciphered Etheline's accent; doing so was far easier than it had been the first time she met her. 'I'd feel better about it if we've met others who couldn't.' Soo-ha's ears fell back against the sides of her head as she signed in response. 'Even still, I can't help how it makes me feel...Even the others at the monastery could manage dumplings and I'm sure Yasashi ate better than gruel in the Shado-pan.' Soo-ha bit down on her bottom lip. 'What kind of homemaker can't even do that?'

Etheline pursed her lips out in thought, hip bouncing slightly against the side of the stove. "I'm sure there's summit ya can manage. loike I said, you're thinkin' abaht this too 'ard. ya should stop thinkin' of cookin' loike a pandaren and start tryin' ter do things loike yourself, your way." From behind the glint of her glasses, Soo-ha watched those hazel eyes soften. "Wifaht murderin' more of our pots and pans, mind ya."

There was wisdom in the other woman's words, Soo-ha knew that much. That evening, while Kimiko was frolicking about the camp and Yasashi was helping patrol, she rolled up her sleeves and got to work. Soo-ha stopped trying to mimic the expertise she had admired from her kin and took on a slower pace. Quick chopping turned into steady and rhythmic thumps, and perfection was made sloppy but it was a special kind of sloppy; a her kind of sloppy.

By the end of the night, Kimiko was delighted by the scent that wafted from the wagon and the cub devoured two whole bowls of the stew Soo-ha had made. Yasashi, who had always stomached his wife's attempts at cooking, tried to hid his pleasant surprise but she could tell, his eye did not twitch when he ate this time.

As Kimiko drifted to sleep in the loft, her parents worked on washing the dishes. Looking over to his wife, Yasashi noted the smile on his wife's lips and inquired with a gentle bump of his hip against her. "The stew was very good tonight, Little bell. What do you call it?"

Soo-ha looked up at her husband and with a mischievous blep of her tongue, she lifted her paws and signed: 'Success.' wide a wide smile.

[thecandywrites]

Monster March 2023 Day 19- Part 3

Intervention

Because everyone who is in a crises or has mental health issues or thoughts and or tendancies for depression and suicide should be able to reach out, and call out, and that should be met with care, understanding, empathy, sympathy and help to deal and get through it. And as someone whose last attempt was unsuccessful and I got the proper intervention and therapy ever since. It can be life changing and life saving and once you learn things like emotional awareness and emotional regulation and mindfullness, it can make a difference.

Also, fun fact, there is such a thing as Mickey Mouse Fish that are in the Platty family. As pictured above.

As always, thanks to @borealwrites for their Monster March 2023 prompts.

Part 3

Intervention

The moment the sensors detected blood in the water, an alarm sounded off and all the lights turned back on and people rushed in and before you knew it, you were scooped up and then taken to the center’s hospital where other micros who were trained to provide medical care for other micros took the writing utensil from your fist and gave you a shot meant to relax you but instead you fought them off, and had you any venom, you would have used it. 

“Stop! Stop! Stop fighting! Stop trying to hurt yourself!” They were all yelling at you as they all seemed to try to tie you down to a special table. 

“No! This stupid fucking pattern needs to come off! I don’t want it! I have never wanted it! It’s cursed! I’m cursed, just kill me and cut it out of me if it’s so fucking special!” You shrieked as you fought against the restraints and the medicine that had been injected into you as two more nurses and then two more doctors gave you four more shots before you finally succumbed but then you were in danger of your heart stopping from the high dose of the relaxant so then it was a matter of trying to actually keep you from getting your wish of dying as they then had to take turns doing chest compressions while putting in more medicine to undo the first six waves of medicine before you got a large dose of adrenaline to a shock to bring you back to life. But by that point, you were gagged and restrained so tightly that you couldn’t move, just scream around the gag and cry as you tried cussing every person in that room out for bringing you back, and to just let you die as they bandaged you up and then the table itself was moved to a special room that had sea sponges lining and floors and it was so tall there was no way for you to jump high enough to reach the ceiling way overhead before special lights were put on that hypnotized you into sleeping again. 

You didn’t know how long you slept but when you awoke you had to crawl on your belly on the floor as you tried to get into the sloping corners so that you couldn’t even wedge yourself into them. Just recline against it before you simply curled up and cried yourself back to sleep. At some point, someone must have come in and removed the restraints you had been put into. But now the special garment you wore protected your body and fins from your hands. And the way it fit you, there was no way for you to take it off. And while you now had access to your hands, your nails were clipped as short as possible so you wouldn’t be able to scratch at yourself. Your hair was even tied up with a special clip that you couldn’t get it out of, let alone really reach. You only had enough movement in the arms of this thing to reach your mouth, so you could feed yourself- so that you couldn’t use it to strangle yourself. So you simply put your hands together under your head, to act like a pillow. You heard the click of a special little door that dropped a single ball of food, too small to choke on, but you recognized it as a baby bit, so you ignored it. 

Instead you just laid there, with your eyes closed as you tried to remember what your parents used to look like, what your siblings used you to look like. What your friends had looked like. What your tank had looked like. Wishing with all your might that you had damaged yourself enough to go back home. 

Finally a very brave nurse came in. 

“Hey Hun, I’m Trixie, can you tell me your name?” She asked as she slowly swam over to you. As you could tell she was wearing a special vest with a cord tied to the ceiling that if you tried to lash out at her, she’d be pulled from the room in a flash. 

But all you did in response was simply fold your arms in front of your chest and just continued to lay there and wouldn’t even look at her, let alone talk to her. 

“It says here that your name is Minnie?” She asked as she looked at her small tech pad. 

“No.” You finally muttered lowly with a subtle shake of your head. 

“So you’re not Minnie Minerva Mouse? Minnie Mouse?” She asked before you finally turned your head as you glared wearily at her. 

“No. I’m not Minnie Fucking Mouse. I never was.” You insisted. 

“So, what is your name then?” She asked. 

“It doesn’t matter. If you can’t even know who or what my real name is, I doubt you even care.” You spat before you turned more into the soft sea sponge padding in on the corner as you could hear her use her stylus to click away at the electronic pad. 

“I do care.” She finally offered. 

“Only because I have those damned white dots on me and that stupid pattern that you can only see with special unnatural light. Just skin me and nail my hide to a board and put a frame on it and be done with it.” You growled resentfully as she simply sighed sadly as she continued to click away at her electronic pad before she unclipped herself from the vest that would pull her out. Because she could sense you didn’t pose a threat or danger to her. You just resented the treatment you had gotten since your “discovery”. Which she could not blame or find fault in. She had seen it happen far too often and she did not like seeing the pattern repeat and was trying everything in her power to help reverse it.  

“No. You are always worth more than your appearances. Your intrinsic value as a person is above everything else. I’m not here to treat the pattern on your body. I’m here to treat the woman in the body, regardless of what is on the body regardless. I understand from your old neighbor that you had been resentful of it and the fact that she neglected to mention that sooner meant that your own intervention should and could have happened so much sooner than it did and you never would have felt the need to try harm yourself in the first place because that resentment grew bigger than any other feeling you had about yourself. And I’m sorry it wasn’t seen or taken care of sooner. And I apologize that it took such drastic measures before this problem was addressed. But I can guarantee you that from now on. Things will be different. And I swear to you- that if you ever get resentful about your pattern again. I’ll personally cover you head to toe in permanent ink so that nothing and no one will ever be able to see it again.” She vowed before you finally turned towards her and began to relax a little more. 

“Why?” You asked. 

“You are a guppy micro, just like me. Guppy micros are always far more aggressively social than most owners can give us. I care that your name and I’m guessing far more about you was probably written just as you were being looked at by the buyers. I care very much, that you were never given the education and training that you should have had from the start. And then just because you developed a recessive pattern in your coloring you were ripped from your family and friends. And you that you had months of medicine that was all supposed to be spaced out according to your body size was given all at once in one or probably multiple superdoses. That your breeder might as well have been a micro-mermaid mill.” She began as she was using her stylus to change things in your chart. 

“Let me guess? You grew up in a huge tank. I’m guessing hundreds of gallons- big. With all kinds of other micros. Where the houses were small but huge public spaces where everyone mingled with everyone else as kids but the moment any of the kids grew close to maturity they were sent to something of a boarding school. With “school pictures” at least once or twice a week? Where the class sizes were huge but you still had plenty of “mentors” that always took the “special girls” away to have “private lessons”. And they were probably told the tale that they were going to grow into big beautiful young women and that they would get to go to big fancy parties where other micros who had very rich owners could afford to bring them to- wherever they were. And get to live in castles. Right?” She wagered as she simply sat on the sea sponge with you to look you in the eye. 

“I don’t know what they were told. I just know I wasn’t one of the “special” ones. Until…I forget how many cycles ago.” You answered. 

“So what’s your real name?” She asked. 

“Ellie. It’s short for Mernerverelli.” You answered. 

“Yeah, I can see why they shortened it and tried to pass you off as Minnie.” She nodded as she put that in. 

“So, the buyers came and they probably took one look at the other girls who had been told since they were little that they were “special” and dismissed them with a single glance but the owner of the tank instead of wanting to lose business, corralled all of you in by kind and then showed you off like you were all one big clutch?” She guessed. 

“And that’s when they had me unfold all my fins and saw the pattern. That’s when…” You trailed off as your lips trembled. 

“That’s when the pump overflowed the tank practically? And everything went beserk all at once?” She guessed 

“Just about. Suddenly I had armed guards escorting me to my bunk to pack up my things, put them into special bags, got pulled out and too many needles injecting every piece of meat and fat on my bones. And then I got sick from all the medicine all at once and then given a stack of books and told to start reading and cramming the knowledge in as quickly as I could.” You revealed. 

“Let me guess, to see the pattern, you either have to be scared shitless or madder than siamese fighting micros?” She prodded. 

“The former.” You answered. 

“And it’s exhausting to keep the fins up and out?” She guessed. 

“Yes.” You nodded. 

“And before all of this, the thought of ever harming yourself never crossed your mind huh?” She proposed. 

“No. It wasn’t until these damned white spots bloomed on my body, not even two weeks ago, that I thought I was just growing into my adult colors and patterns. But because I have the damn Mouse Ears, whatever the fuck those are. I just wish they never appeared or I could cut them off and put them on another who wants them.” You pouted. 

“How many micros were in your class at school?” She asked. 

“Thousands of micros went to the school. But the classes were always at least 100 students.” You answered as she seemed to blink as her eyebrows rose in surprise. 

“Oh good grief!” She exclaimed as she simply settled in. 

“So with that many students, you were probably separated from all the boys at an early age huh?” She guessed. 

“Yeah, we barely had any pattern at all on us when we were separated. Boys on one side, the girls on the other. Only siblings were allowed to meet in the middle once a week.” You revealed.  

“So because you had three spots bloom on you. You got ripped away from all of that and had all that medicine dumped into you and then given stacks of books and told to cram it all into your noggin as quick as you could?” She guessed as she reached up to pet your head as you leaned into her soft motherly touch as she smiled sadly at you. 

“Yes.” You confirmed. 

 “And on top of that, you were isolated and not even given good neighbors. But you were put front and center with no support on how to support that kind of attention. And because you were found at the last minute, meant to be unveiled at something that’s still way too close. That had you not tried to attack yourself, you would have been thrust into a tank of professional entertainers and you would have sit and posed for pictures but probably would have been found dead in the tank the next morning, all because you were unfortunate enough to have an brand new recessive gene that just happened to express itself onto your body.” She added. 

“Yeah.” You nodded. 

“Ok. Well, first, let me get you out of this ridiculous thing and really see how you’re healing up.” She offered before you sat up as she got behind you and untied and unbuckled the damn thing and helped you take it off. 

“That’s better. Not so heavy huh?” She guessed. 

“Yeah.” You nodded before she carefully lifted up the bandages and inspected you at lot more gently than any other had. 

“Yeah, I can see why you were taken. And why you were given that treatment. Well Ellie, I have good news and I have bad news.” She began. 

“What’s the bad news?” You asked. 

“The spots haven’t changed. And you didn’t damage them in any way that it destroyed them. So you’re still stuck with them. Sorry to say. But if you just got them. It wouldn’t surprise me if you ended up getting a few more and suddenly the pattern won’t be a special as it is right now, so there’s still hope there.” She mused. 

“I’m never going to go back home am I?” You asked. 

“No. I don’t think so. For as much as was paid for you. And because you’re a whole week past the guarantee date. That means the transaction for you can’t be reversed. And honestly, it sounds like you came from a very irresponsible breeder who “lucked out” on getting a recessive gene. And I can only hope that the other members of your family are saved from what you just went through. Did any of them have the spots you did?” She asked. 

“No.” You shook your head. 

“Well, if they did. I would expect that your whole family would have been bought with you and then you would have had to inbreed with your own brothers to continue to have kids with the same marks.” She muttered. 

“Ew.” You frowned. 

“Honey, it’s a recessive gene. It’s going to be a lot to find another expression of it that is not in your family tree. Maybe you’ll get lucky and only need like a cousin or something, if not like a whole host of members from your family line to come here to try to reproduce what you are already one of a kind with. So because you’re female, though, you might get a harem of males to mate with going forward.” She explained. 

“But what if I’m just…me. What if I was just that one in a million…” You began. 

“Because you already are that one in a million. And now a million other guppies of your type or even the opposite of your subtype will be picked through and combed over.” She informed you.

“How come this is the first time I’m hearing about any of this?” You asked. 

“If the “school” that you went to had lets say- a thousand students. 500 girls, 500 boys. That’s a lot for a single breeder to keep track of. Usually the flashy colors are easy to spot when they first form. And because you’re dark, and because there’s so many subsets of white and black guppy micros, you probably fell through the cracks and weren’t seen for what you are until the last minute. But moving forward. I would almost guarantee you that- now, every single person in your family is being bought up by the major collectors and they are all probably now getting singled out at home and are getting a tank of their own and your poor mother is probably wracking her brain to remember who she had sex with with you- because in all honesty, guppies, we do like our mating balls, so pinning down our genetics is tricky as far as lineage so it wouldn’t surprise me if all the guppies in that tank were taken out and then watched super closely to see which one your mom mates with gets a similar result to you. And honestly, despite everything. I know you may not see or know this now. But because of these spots. And from your notes, what you look like under black light, you did secure the wellbeing and safety and security of your family. But that usually means that you are kept either for display purposes until a suitable mate can be found outside of your family. Or, depending on how desperate those humans can be to see more of this recessive gene, you might be seeing them again sooner than later, but just…not in the setting you were hoping for.” She gently broke it to you. 

“So what happens now?” You asked. 

“Well, could you promise me to never try to hurt yourself again?” She asked before you nodded. 

“Yes.” You nodded. 

“And would you ever, be aggressive towards anyone else unless provoked?” She asked. 

“No.” You shook your head no. 

“Then we should get you out of isolation because isolation is practically a death sentence for us guppy micros. So I’m putting in a request to at least put you in general population here at the medical center. So that you’re not lonely anymore and get you in a guppy dorm with another guppy roommate and all that jass. And if your new owner really wants you to be more than just a smile in a photograph for more than a single day. They’re going to have to change their expectations and treatment of you. They pushed way too much on you way too fast while also isolating you. And quarantine is really rough, especially for a super social species like us. Usually guppies are always taken in either pairs or trios. Even if the target micro is one, it’s best to transport us in the very least friend groups. I’m surprised you weren’t transported with- at the very least, a sister or two.” She noted. 

“But I wouldn’t wish what I’ve been through on them.” You noted. 

“I know. But it would have made the last few days a bit more bearable if you were with someone instead of all alone.” She noted as you nodded but simply rethought your childhood as more and more of her reasoning seemed to make sense before she brought you out of the room and took you into “processing” where she got you some black smocks that matched your normal “coloring” and to hide the white spots on your body while your fins would be able to be used for movement before she reached up and unclipped your hair before it fell down in a braid as you blew a breath of relief to not have it pulled so tightly on your scalp. 

Then she showed you to a room where you now had a roommate- Missy. Who was injured like you. But had been injured performing instead of self inflicted but she assumed you were in a similar state and you didn’t have the heart or courage to correct her. And just as your “entrance into the hospital recovery ward supplies were given to you as well as a proper “welcome package”. She realized you were a newbie at this and then had tons of helpful advice and neat tips and tricks to cope with the life here and how to choose your friends wisely and how to easily spot a true friend from a fake one- who was doing this solely for the personal benefits and not any other reason. Or any other who would sabotage you to only make themselves stand out and “shine” that much brighter. 

Although she did note that because of your coloring, she doubted any other would ever look at you and ever see a threat to their own spotlight. And once she found out that you only had the special pattern in black light, then she gave you a heads up on what living in a black light tank was like and how it could mess with your sleep schedule but that the perks were usually much higher and the “mood” in the tanks were much more relaxed than in the normal tanks lit up for the general public. 

But just as you were halfway through getting unpacked, there was another alarm and all the nurses rushed to the triage hospital side to administer more first aid to other micros as you simply looked on, but didn’t go and see for yourself. 

Instead you were encouraged to go eat with the others. And to your relief. There were more here than you thought there would be. Some of them had been here for years months and even years. Some of them were injured doing tricks and stunts. So for you- not being recognized or known, it was assumed you were an overzealous “newbie” who got injured in “tryouts”, which was apparently a pretty common thing. 

But now that you actually got a chance to know them from ‘the other side’ of things. You really did get a sense of community and a sense of genuine friendship with the others. And in just a few hours, you felt more and more comfortable. Like you had simply transferred schools or something. Only instead of school work, it was “training” or “performing” or “rehearsals.” As there was something big that was coming up. But something you were happy to play along with for the time being.

[smokingwandergldnstate]

The Kraken

Below the thunders of the upper deep, Far far beneath in the abysmal sea, His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep The Kraken sleepeth: faintest sunlights flee About his shadowy sides: above him swell Huge sponges of millennial growth and height; And far away into the sickly light, From many a wondrous grot and secret cell Unnumbered and enormous polypi Winnow with giant fins the slumbering green. There hath he lain for ages and will lie Battering upon huge seaworms in his sleep, Until the latter fire shall heat the deep; Then once by men and angels to be seen, In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die.

Lord Alfred Tennyson