#Project Seabird

[rightnewshindi]

समुद्र में भारत की नई ताकत: प्रोजेक्ट वर्षा और INS अरिधमान से चीन की बढ़ेगी टेंशन!

Delhi News: भारत अपनी नौसैनिक ताकत को लगातार मजबूत कर रहा है, और अब समुद्र के नीचे भी उसकी शक्ति का डंका बजने वाला है। आंध्र प्रदेश के तट पर बन रहा एक नया नौसैनिक अड्डा और तीसरी परमाणु पनडुब्बी INS अरिधमान इसकी मिसाल हैं। यह सब हिंद महासागर में चीन की बढ़ती हरकतों को जवाब देने की बड़ी तैयारी का हिस्सा है। आइए जानते हैं इस रोमांचक घटनाक्रम की पूरी कहानी। प्रोजेक्ट वर्षा: बंगाल की खाड़ी में गुप्त…

[artechoceneexplorer]

Seabirds of the Artechocene:

The Anthropogenic Extinction Event was particularly devastating for ocean ecosystems, including the seabirds that relied on it, with only a few species surviving the event. 39 million years later however, life has recovered, and now the descendants of these seabirds, as well as other aquatic birds that took to the seas, are a common sight worldwide, belonging to a variety of different groups:

Full piece of the seabird diversity in the Artechocene oceans

•Vesselbirds (Caravelorniformes):

A widespread group of the largest of the Artechocene seabirds, they have abandoned land completely, brooding being taken care of by a specialised structure on the male's back that acts as a nest.

•Corsairfishers (Piratosagipterines):

Kingfishers relatives that use kleptoparasitism as one of their main feeding strategies, often following larger, more specialised seabirds.

Close-up on the vesselbirds and corsairfishers

•Kitegulls (Milvulari):

Close relatives of cacklers, they are long distance flyers, feeding on surface prey and rarely landing, only to breed on isolated islands across their expansive range in temperate and tropical oceans worldwide.

•Sea Songbirds (Thalassopasseridae):

A unique family of passeriformes found mostly around the southern hemisphere, the scallywags (Pelagopasser sp.) are a genus of open ocean specialists that are found on every ocean except the Arctic, flapping and skimming the surface of the ocean to feed on small planktonic prey.

•Dumingos (Anabalaenidae):

A cosmopolitan group of filter feeding ducks, they are typically found in inland waters, but a few species, like the sea dumingo (Pinnatocetus celer), have been able to exploit its endless amount of plankton.

Close-up on the sea songbirds, dumingos and kitegulls

•Harpansers (Dinomergidae):

Found mostly around the northern hemisphere, these sea ducks are specialised fish eaters that can dive and swim particularly well. Hunting in large groups, they can co-ordinate to hunt down entire schools of fish and squid.

•Seadrakes (Thescelodyptidae):

A family of very diverse, cosmopolitan sea ducks found mostly in cold oceans, that are characterised by their colorful males and hardened papillae inside of of their mouths, specialised for each species' diet. The star-horned squobbler (Magnificodyptes asterotops) in particular is a squid specialist, using hooked papillae and suction to keep its soft bodied prey from escaping.

•Umibozulles (Bathostyxiformes):

A unique offshoot of the full clade native to the Pacific, Arctic and north Atlantic regions, these fully nocturnal seabirds are extremely cryptic and hard to see, leaving their colonies in the middle of the night to dive and incredible depths in search of small invertebrates and fish; using their black, iridescent feathers that appear pitch dark at depth, to go unnoticed by prey.

Close-up on the harpansers, seadrakes and umibozulles

•Shagseals (Phociornithiformes):

A flightless order of the cormorant clade, they include the largest seabirds of the Artechocene. This is due to their dense bones, which they use alongside their sensitive beaks to swim hovering just above the seafloor at great depth, coming out to breathe every few hours, thanks to a very efficient circulatory system. Despite being mostly aquatic, to breed they must come out to land, where males use a specialised armpit pouch to brood the eggs and young.

•Balamars (Balaornithidae):

Another cosmopolitan member of the gull clade, they are adapted for speed, being able to plunge dive and pursue prey at incredible velocity.

•Penmorants (Pinguriliiformes):

Another order of flightless seabirds in the cormorant clade, these are much more widespread and pelagic, being able to be spotted in the open ocean in every region, but with the highest diversity being in the northern hemisphere. Unlike vessel birds, these need to come back to land to breed.

Close-up on the balamars, shagseals and penmorants

•Coast Cacklers (Neolaridae):

A living fossil amongst the full clade, they're generalist predators found in coasts and open seas all across the world, from pole to pole.

•Titan Gulls (Laroposeidonidae):

The largest of the flying seabirds, these long distance flyers can be found on the open ocean across the southern hemisphere and the Pacific Ocean.

•Kelp Ruddies (Phycophaganatidae):

Specialised algae grazing ducks distributed along the cold coasts of every continent except Africa.

•Labrosone Geese (Auloceratidae):

Anseriforms with a uniquely complex nasal structure that amplify and warp their calls, some marine species can be found along the coasts of Afro-Eurasia.

•Windtellers (Aequoelanus sp.):

A small genus of medium sized predators that can be found offshore of coastal forests across the world, lunging on fish too close to the surface.

•Basketgulls (Pelecanoidae):

Another, very voracious, relative of cacklers, found offshore on every ocean except for the arctic. Good flyers, they usually plunge into the water to catch shoals of small prey.

Close-up on the coast cacklers, kelp ruddies, labrosone geese, windtellers and basketgulls

•Bagshags (Euryrhamphinae):

A diving predator capable of gulping down fish larger than itself, these voracious, near flightless birds can be found in coasts and freshwater systems of the tropics and temperate areas of the world.

•Taornes (Hastanhinga sp.):

A pantropical genus highly associated with clamoral reefs and other high diversity, shallow water ecosystems, slowly stalking prey hidden in crevices or substrate with pinpoint precision.

•Seahens (Littogallidae):

Omnivores found in areas not far from the coast of every continent. They are diverse and occupy a wide variety of niches, specialising on different diets depending on the available resources.

Close-up on the bagshags, taornes and seahens

•Wakageese (Wakaereformes):

A basal offshoot of the waterfowl clade, it has evolved a unique style of swimming and very specialised, hydrodynamic feathering. It evolved isolated on Antarctica soon after it started to thaw, and is now distributed mostly around the southern ocean.

•Shellpeckers (Mergupicidae):

One of the few non-gull marine charadriiformes left, these have taken a rather unique approach to a durophagous diet, using a strong beak and a hammering motion to open the shellfish it dives for.

•Anatorants (Sulanatidae):

A flying, basal offshoot of the phociornithiformes, presenting a similar beak sensitivity as their relatives but less aquatic specialisations. Given their flight capabilities, they're found much more widespread than their northern relatives, extending far into the southern hemisphere.

Close-up on the wakafowl, shellpeckers and anatorants

•Mergeese (Sirenianseridae):

Aquatic grazers very specialised for their lifestyle, with a large crop that is used for fermenting the plant material. Because of this diet, they're highly associated with seagrass meadows in the Indo-Pacific, Caribbean and European regions.

•Sandabblers (Psammobenthavinae):

A cosmopolitan anatid subfamily of diving soft sediment specialists that can be found in both fresh and saltwater ecosystems, but the majority are often associated with soft sediment ocean shores.

Close-up on the mergeese and sandabblers

Hope you liked this compilation of Artechocene seabird diversity!!

[bumblebeeappletree]

All around the world, seabirds provide a critical link between land and sea. On Hawai’i, ecologists are working to protect two vital shearwater species that helped life first take hold across these islands.

While seabirds predominantly reside at sea, they return to land to breed and raise their young. In this process, they deposit mineral-rich nutrients that sustain the whole island ecosystem. But the arrival of human settlers introduced non-native predators and extensive development. Together, these compromised many seabird habitats — and decimated their populations. Several species are now teetering on the brink of extinction.

The Maui Nui Seabird Recovery Project engages a multifaceted approach to protect these crucial birds: eliminating invasive predators, restoring native plants, and monitoring burrows for fledgling success. In one instance, they have established a dedicated sanctuary complete with artificial burrows, bird-shaped decoys, and audio speakers to attract one highly endangered shearwater species. Through their efforts, the team gives seabirds a chance to raise the next generation on the very islands they helped bring to life.

Learn more about this story and ways that YOU can get involved in saving your local biodiversity by becoming a Wild Hoper:

Follow us:

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[ornithological]

sorting through my photos of skuas and other seabirds and getting sad because i miss seeing them and i'm gonna have to wait til next year to go seawatching again :((

[loudlylovingreview]

Derrick Z. Jackson: Care for Endangered Seabirds Continues Amid a 51-Year Legacy of Optimism

Steve Kress’s smile lit up the dusk as research assistants at least 50 years younger than him regaled him with tales of their vigilance to save tern chicks on Stratton Island, Maine. For an hour, all talk centered around a mortal enemy of tern chicks: the black-crowned night heron. The latter is a beautiful, stocky wetland bird with glowing red eyes and two delicate white plumes shooting out the…

[jadafitch]

Matinicus Rock Light, Penobscot Bay, Matinicus, Maine. Hunting and eating puffins was common practice in Maine over 100 years ago. The first lighthouse keepers on the rock were also wardens, hired by The American Ornithologists Union. They were tasked with protecting The United State's last remaining pair of Atlantic puffins, as well as many other commonly hunted seabird species. Today, Matinicus Rock is owned by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service's Maine Coastal Islands National Wildlife Refuge, and is cooperatively managed by the National Audubon Society and MCINWR. Thanks to their work and the work of Project Puffin, there are over 500 pairs of nesting puffins, plus 400 pairs of razorbills, 1,000 pairs of terns, about 700 pairs of laughing gulls, and more.

[vunblr]

Tangled (#2)

Pairing: Cecaelia! Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Slight Angst. Fluff. Slow Burn. I don't know if there will be eventual teratophilia.

Summary: Between fear and fascination, a solitary creature struggles to protect his hidden world -and himself- after an unexpected encounter with a curious human woman makes him question everything he thought he knew about trust, danger, and boundaries.

Word Count: About 6.5k.

note: The Cecaelia is a mythical creature that's half-man, half-octopus, and that was the winning result of the poll about what kind of creature would be merman!Bucky. So yeah.

Previous Chapter

The next morning, she decided to switch things up. Maybe, going earlier would save her from another weird staring contest with the stranger from yesterday. So she packed her usual things -her project, a thermos, a snack- and threw on a light jacket before heading out. The air was crisp and salty, the sun still low and soft on the horizon, casting everything in golden light.

By the time she made it to her spot by the rocks, she was greeted by two small but satisfying victories.

First: no sign of him.

Second: the tide was low.

Very low.

The mouth of the cave yawned open before her, dark, cool, and tempting. She stood there for a moment, just listening to the rhythmic hush of the waves and the soft cries of seabirds above. The breeze tugged playfully at her hair as she scanned the shoreline, confirming what she had suspected, the tide was still receding. She had time.

Her gaze flicked back to the cave.

Maybe… she could finally take a proper look inside. If the locals were so set on being cryptic about the place, well, she could see for herself what the fuss was about.

Adjusting the straps of her backpack, she made her way carefully across the rocky terrain, taking her time to step only on firm, dry stones. Her shoes crunched softly against the pebbles as she went, and when she reached the cave’s entrance, she hesitated only briefly before ducking inside.

It was bigger than she thought.

Seawater pools clung to dips in the cave floor, catching the sunlight and scattering it across the rock like scattered coins. She trailed a hand along the rough wall, marveling at how nature shaped everything so perfectly.

God, this place was beautiful.

She wandered a few feet inside, careful to keep the brighter mouth of the cave within her sight, she wasn’t about to get herself lost in the dark, after all.

The deeper she went, the more she noticed little details, the way seaweed had been caught high in some places, as though pushed there by violent tides, the shimmer of shells wedged between stones, and even marks on the walls.

Scratches?

No… another kind of mark she couldn’t decipher.

----

Bucky was minding his business -lately, this meant trying to nap and failing- when the sound of footsteps echoing faintly through the stone reached his ears. His eyes snapped open, sharp and alert, and his pupils narrowed against the faint shaft of light filtering through the cave’s chimney.

Footsteps.

Too light to be a fisherman or some reckless teenager come to drink where they thought no one would find them.

No, this was different.

He pushed himself up slightly from where he’d been half-submerged in one of the deeper pools, and the water swirled softly around the dark coils of his limbs. His long hair, still damp from an early morning swim, clung to his shoulders as he turned toward the sound, tattooed fingers flexing against the rock's edge.

Then he heard it again, careful steps over the stones. Hesitant. Testing the ground like someone not used to walking there.

His jaw clenched. He knew who it was even before he heard the soft intake of breath that followed.

Her.

The one who kept coming to his shore. The one who dared to sit and hum and twist her strange threads in the sunlight like she belonged there.

He swore softly under his breath. What the hell was she doing now?

She’d never ventured this close. Never crossed into the mouth of his lair. Sliding silently beneath the surface, he moved closer to where the cave opened wide, staying in the deeper shadows, where the water was darkest and the light struggled to reach. Only his eyes remained above, sharp as a blade, watching her figure outlined against the sunlight spilling from the entrance.

She moved slowly, and wide-eyed, running her fingers along the walls  -his walls- studying the cave like she had every right to be there. He felt something twist low in his gut, a mix of annoyance and... something else. Something that felt dangerously close to curiosity.

Didn’t she realize how stupid it was to wander into places she didn’t understand? His dark tendrils shifting restlessly in the water, echoing his unease.

She paused by one of the shallow pools, crouching to look at something glinting in the rocks. Shells or maybe bits of drift metal carried in by the tides, small things he sometimes kept and sometimes destroyed when he was in the wrong mood.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed as he watched her expression. Not fear, not yet. She didn’t know she wasn’t alone. A flicker of guilt assaulted him, uninvited. She wasn’t armed, wasn’t threatening. She looked... curious. Innocent, even.

But he knew better than to trust a human face.

He was used to watching her from a distance. Used to seeing her hands dance over her threads, hearing the soft sound of her voice when she hummed to herself.

But now?

Now she was here. Too close.

And as she straightened up and turned deeper into the cave, following the patches of light that filtered through cracks and chimneys, Bucky felt his chest tighten. What was he supposed to do with her? His fingers dug into the rock, and his muscles tensed under dark, storm-hued skin.

Maybe it was time to show her this wasn’t a place to wander.

----

When she started moving toward that alcove, -the one where her little seashell square hung, swaying gently on its line- something sharp and possessive twisted in Bucky’s chest.

No.

That was his now.

Without thinking much about it, he slid from the deeper shadows of his resting pool, moving swift and fluid along the rocky edge, like a shadow swallowed by darker ones. His lower half gripped the slick stones as he glided over them, slipping noiselessly into another pool closer to her path.

Hidden beneath the surface, only his eyes above the waterline, he watched as she hesitated, scanning the alcove’s uneven walls with quiet wonder.

She was too close.

His fingers curled over the rim of the pond, the dark tattooed lines on his arm twisting as his grip tensed. And then, he hissed.

Low, sharp, and deliberate.

The sound slithered through the cavern like a living thing, bouncing off the rock, and gaining depth and weight as it echoed through the chambers. She froze mid-step. She turned around slowly, all wide eyes as she scanned the shadows, the pools, the craggy walls.

“Hello?” Her voice was soft, uncertain.

Bucky said nothing, keeping still as stone. She stepped back, brushing the cave wall lightly with her hand, as if for support. But that was all. She wasn’t running. She wasn’t screaming. Just standing there, scanning the dim light, with her mouth pressed in a thin line.

He stayed hidden, with his body almost perfectly blended with the dark water and stone. Watching. Studying.

She lingered another minute, wrapping her arms loosely around herself as if trying to convince herself that the hiss -that low, sharp thing slithering through the cavern- had been nothing. Just some natural sound of the sea moving through the rocks.

With a slow exhale, she wisely turned on her heel and started her march toward the exit, cautiously stepping over the slick stone.

But fate, of course, wasn’t on her side.

Her foot slipped on a patch of algae-slick rock, and before she could even yelp, she went down hard, landing with a splash in a pool she hadn't noticed before.

“Shit!” she gasped, as the cold water soaked her jeans instantly.

The splash echoed off the cavern walls, bouncing sharp and loud through the space. And that sudden, chaotic movement, the crash of her body into the water, the way her hands scrambled to push herself back up, startled something.

From across the pool, where the water dipped into shadow, the rocks seemed to shift. Her eyes caught on the movement, as the illusion of stone melted away, like mist burning under the sun. There, clinging to the rocks, was him.

Not a shadow. Not a trick of the light.

A man, pale and tattooed, with long dark hair plastered against his shoulders, and wide blue eyes locked on her with equal parts shock and anger.

But it wasn’t just a man.

Where legs should’ve been, his body changed, and thick limbs -deep blues and blacks shifting like oil- curled and rippled over the stones, some half-submerged, others coiled for balance. She could see suction cups running along the underside of a few, clinging effortlessly to the wet rock. The tips flicked and twitched, betraying tension and irritation.

For a long heartbeat, neither of them moved.

What-

He looked just as surprised as she was, like he hadn’t expected to reveal his position, to startle. Then, like a storm cloud pulling itself together, his expression darkened. He tilted his head slightly as if assessing how dangerous she was now that his secret was laid bare.

Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.

The creep in the waves, she thought, as her heart thudded painfully against her ribs. Only… not quite the kind of creep she’d expected. No, this was paranormal-weird. A fucking living, breathing fairy tale was perched just a few feet away, staring her down like she had personally eaten the last of his cereal.

They just… kept staring at each other.

She could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his tattooed arm flexed and braced against the rock like he was ready to launch himself forward. His inhuman lower half -those tendrils, massive and sleek in stormy blues and black- gripped the rock tightly, suction cups shifting and adjusting as if they couldn’t quite decide between holding steady or moving closer.

He was uneasy.

But she was very sure he could sense her unease too.

Her brain spun wildly, running in circles like a hamster in an out-of-control wheel. A male cecaelia? A fucking octopus man, just a short walk from her house? A goddamn myth glaring at her like she had just walked into his living room uninvited. Which, technically, she had.

Okay, okay… don’t freak out…

She swallowed thickly, trying to keep her face neutral, though she was pretty sure her wide eyes were betraying every last thought. She flicked a glance to the nearest rocks, desperately scanning for an escape route. If she could get up without slipping again, and if she could make it out before he decided to drag her back under…

Her stomach churned.

Because unlike a fish-tailed mermaid or triton, this guy didn’t need the water. Those muscular tendrils looked more than capable of hauling his heavy body across the rocks, and the way they were shifting now, gripping and testing, made her feel all kinds of not safe.

If he decided she was a threat -or worse, prey- she had no illusions about being able to outrun him on that slippery surface. He could snap her neck or trap her and pull her under the water before she even got to her feet.

Feigning death? Not an option. She wasn’t a possum, and he didn’t look like he’d fall for it.

Her thoughts tumbled in panic, but something in his eyes -that strange stormy blue, watching her so intently- made her pause. There was hesitation there. Like he wasn’t sure what to do with her, either.

So, she did the only thing she could think of.

The polite, and incredibly stupid thing.

She raised her hand -fingers trembling slightly- and waved.

“Um… hi there.”

Her voice cracked a little on the last word, but she managed to get it out.

Carefully, without taking her eyes off him, she pushed herself up to sitting, legs still half-submerged in the cold pool, and bracing her palms on the rocks to stop from sliding again. Her heart was pounding so hard she was sure he could hear it. But she kept her chin up, watching him watch her, waiting to see what the hell came next.

He didn’t move at first. He just stared, slightly narrowing his crystal-shaded blue eyes, with blown wide pupils in the dim light of the cave.

What… what kind of human waved at a creature like him? He understood her mistaking him for a man the day before, but now?

His sharp gaze swept over her face as if searching for something. Maybe she hit her head when she fell. Yeah, that had to be it. Otherwise, why would she be sitting there, soaked and trembling, but still raising a hand at him like they were having some casual chat over the weather?

His lips curled slightly, baring his sharp teeth, and a low, guttural hiss escaped his throat before he could even think about it.

She flinched -a visible, whole-body jerk- and Bucky felt a grim flicker of satisfaction. Good. Maybe now she realized what kind of danger she was in. But to his surprise, she didn’t scream. She didn’t scramble for the exit or try to throw something at him, both of which he would’ve expected.

Instead, she lifted her hands in a slow, careful gesture, palms out, like she was trying to calm a wild animal. Maybe she was.

“I- I mean no harm,” she said, with measured words like she didn’t want to spook him. Her hands stayed up, placating, trembling just slightly. "I’ll leave," she added, her gaze never leaving his, though he could see the rapid flicker of her eyes as they tracked the way his tendrils shifted and tensed against the rocks.

Bucky’s head tilted, sharp and predatory, watching her mouth as she spoke. He could understand her words. The meaning was there, swimming somewhere in the mess his mind had become.

But speaking back? That was another matter.

Once, long ago, he could speak like any human. Could hold conversations, ask questions, and give warnings. But now the words tangled, twisted up in the shadows of his mind, caught in the wreckage of what they had done to him. Thinking about them made something sharp and dark coil in his chest. His pupils narrowed.

Without meaning to, he slid forward a little, muscles rippling under pale skin as his tendrils dragged him closer, silent and smooth against the stone.

Her eyes widened slightly, and she instinctively leaned back, pressing her palms into the slick rock as if ready to push herself away, but she didn’t move. Not yet.

Every instinct in him screamed not to let her leave. She had found his lair, seen him. No human had gotten this close to him and walked away in… he couldn’t even remember how long.

Letting her go felt wrong. Dangerous. But…

Her eyes weren’t filled with the kind of hatred and greed he was used to, nor calculation. No net. No spear. No sharp weapons. Only those trembling hands and careful words. His gaze flicked to her legs, still half-submerged in the shallow pool. If he reached just a little further, he could drag her back, down into the water where she wouldn’t be able to run-

His claws scraped lightly against the stone, and the sound echoed faintly in the cave. He knew he was scaring her, could smell the sharp tang of fear on her skin. And yet… she wasn’t running away.

Maybe because she understood she couldn’t. But instead of scrambling away or begging, she drew in a shaky breath and tried something else.

"Look…" she started, "I didn’t mean to bother you. I didn’t even know you were-" She hesitated, darting her eyes briefly to his glimmering tendrils before snapping back to his face. "Here."

She swallowed and lifted her hands again, as if he needed more proof that she wasn’t a threat. "I wasn’t looking for you. I was just curious about the cave. You-" another pause, her brow furrowed, searching for words that wouldn't anger him. "You live here, right?"

Bucky’s jaw tensed, sharp teeth flashing for the briefest second as his mouth twitched into something that wasn’t quite a snarl but wasn’t friendly either.

He shifted forward again, slow and deliberate, and the water slid over his skin and tendrils with a quiet hiss. She stiffened as he moved, but didn’t retreat, watching him wide-eyed.

He tilted his head again, and for a moment she thought he might just keep glaring in silence. But then he opened his mouth as if to speak, and nothing came out but a low, broken rasp, like a breath caught on something sharp. His brows furrowed, frustrated, and his lips parted again, trying to form the words tangled in his head.

"Why..." It came out rough, the echo of a voice long unused.

He shifted closer, water dripping from his hair as he leaned slightly to one side, circling her, as if testing, watching how she reacted to every inch he gained.

"Why… here?" he finally managed. His voice was low and hoarse like it hurt to speak. His eyes pinned her, demanding an answer.

She blinked at him, surprised that he had spoken at all, but the question was clear enough.

"I-I just was curious about the place," she answered honestly, lowering her hands slightly now that she saw he was at least trying to communicate. "I moved to the cottage up the hill. I didn’t know this was your home."

Her eyes darted to the water where his tendrils swayed and curled with tension.

"I can stay away if you want," she added, softer.

Bucky watched her in silence, tilting his head slightly as if weighing her words. She could see his throat working, as though he wanted to speak again but couldn’t force the words out.

Still, he crept a little closer, tendrils rising slightly out of the water, black and blue slick shapes moving with that unsettling, liquid grace, like living shadows.

She swallowed hard, watching him shift, seeing the way his muscles moved beneath pale skin, the long dark hair falling over his shoulders in wet strands. He was... too close now. Close enough that she could see how the water slid off his skin, how sharp the lines of his jaw were, how inhumanly still he could go, like a predator assessing prey.

Her mind raced, trying to piece together anything that would make sense of this encounter. Maybe she could reason with him? Offer something, anything in exchange for her safe retreat?

Her fingers trembled as she carefully slid the backpack off her shoulder, keeping her movements slow, and deliberate, showing him she wasn’t reaching for a weapon.

“Um...” she cleared her throat, forcing herself to speak, though her voice was uneven. “I can give you what I brought with me... if you want.”

She opened the flap of the bag and hesitated for a heartbeat before reaching in. The colorful yarn spilled between her fingers, reds and oranges mostly, bright and warm against the grey light filtering through the cave’s chimney. She held it out awkwardly as if offering a peace token to some ancient god of the deep.

His eyes, flicked from her face to the yarn in her hand.

She tried to smile, though her lips felt stiff and dry. “You... want it?” she asked quietly. “You can have it. I’ll just... go.”

Stillness.

His gaze returned to her, dark lashes lowering slightly, as if thinking. Or weighing.

And then, he shifted. His body undulated with a slow, contained force as he slid a little closer, tendrils curling and uncurling at his sides like restless snakes.

Her breath hitched.

But instead of lunging or attacking, one of those black and blue limbs uncurled,  hesitating mid-air before reaching out toward the yarn.

She stayed very still, with her heart thudding painfully as she watched the tip of the tendril brush lightly against the threads.

Still, she took the chance to speak again, softer now, like trying to soothe a wild animal. “I don’t mean any harm,” she whispered. “I didn’t know this was your place. I’ll go, alright? I won’t bother you again.”

His gaze flicked from the dripping yarn in his grasp back to her, sharp and assessing.

She swallowed, holding herself still, watching as he studied the mess of threads. The yarn was already soaking wet, clinging to itself in limp strands, and for a moment he just looked at it, frowning slightly, as if puzzling over its nature.

Then, she saw the way his brows pulled tighter, as the realization dawned in his sharp gaze. It was useless like this, just raw material. His tendrils flexed, curling tighter and then unfurling in a slow, almost thoughtful motion.

When he lifted the dripping yarn again, something flickered across his face. A decision. He moved closer now -gliding with that unsettling, fluid grace- and she instinctively stiffened as the water rippled from his advance. But he didn’t lash out. Instead, he extended the yarn back to her, holding it out.

She blinked in confusion, hesitating before accepting it carefully, as though she was unsure if it was a trap.

Then came a sound, low, rough, like something long-forgotten being forced out of his throat. “…Make.”

Her eyes darted up to him, frowning slightly, unsure she had heard right.

“What?” she asked quietly, as if speaking too loud might break the fragile truce between them.

His tendril twitched, wiggling the yarn in her hand, insistently.

“…Make.” He said again, with a scratchy voice. She could see frustration flickering across his features, clenching his jaw as he struggled to articulate more.

“You…” she clenched her fingers slightly around the yarn- “You want me to craft something for you?”

The way his body stilled, then the sharp nod that followed -curt, and decisive- confirmed her guess.

But before she could say anything else, before she could even think of agreeing, his voice rasped out again, harsher this time.

“No... spi—spells.”

Her eyes widened slightly. His tendrils curled tighter, and she saw the tension in his body, as though even the thought of her weaving some enchantment into a craft unsettled him.

She lifted her free hand slowly, palms out in a placating gesture.

“No spells,” she promised gently, watching his reaction carefully. “Just…” she looked down at the yarn in her hand, “Just yarn. Nothing else.”

His eyes stayed on her for a long moment as if trying to read the truth through every line of her body. Then, with a sharp exhale that might’ve been a grudging acceptance, he let his tendrils slide back into the water, though he remained close, watching.

She swallowed again. “All right,” she said quietly, clutching the yarn to her chest as if that fragile agreement between them had some weight. “I’ll make you something.”

Still, he watched, unmoving, as though waiting to see if she’d keep her word.

And, maybe because she was reckless or because something in his gaze wasn’t entirely threatening anymore, she gave a small nod.

“I’ll bring it when it’s done.”

The moment the words left her lips, she knew she had said the wrong thing.

Because his eyes narrowed, sharp and unyielding, and before she could take a step back, he moved. Effortless, like a shadow sliding over stone, he surged forward, out of the water.

She gasped, stumbling a half step back as he rose up, tendrils unfurling and curling along the slick rocks as he dragged himself fully from the pool. Water streamed down the pale skin of his human half, muscles shifting under scarred flesh, and she couldn’t help but notice how solid he was, how much bigger than she had thought. If those massive tendrils below his hips were legs, and he stood at full height…

He moved with unsettling grace, positioning himself squarely between her and the only exit she had. The soft slap of his tendrils against the stone echoed ominously, and her heart was suddenly thundering in her chest again.

He was blocking her way out.

Her fingers tightened instinctively around the damp yarn, and her pulse raced as he stared her down.

“Here,” he hissed. His gaze was unblinking, cold as the sea.

She swallowed, watching as one of his tendrils lifted to tap the yarn, insistently.

“Make. Here.”

Oh, he didn’t trust her. Of course, he didn’t.

Why should he? She had wandered right into his lair, trespassed into the most private corner of his world. What reason would he have to believe she'd come back, or not run straight to town blabbering about a sea monster living in the cliffs?

She licked her lips, with her throat suddenly dry, her eyes darting from his looming form to the narrow path that led out, now completely cut off.

"Okay," she whispered, her voice a little shaky. "Okay. I get it." She kept her hands slow, deliberate, as she crouched down on a drier patch of rock, her gaze flicking up to him as if asking for permission.

He watched her like a hawk, tendrils shifting slightly against the ground as though ready to react to the smallest wrong move.

Her fingers fumbled slightly as she dug into her backpack for her hook, small and harmless, but she could feel the way his gaze latched onto it, tracking the glint of metal with suspicion.

“It’s… it’s just for the yarn,” she murmured, showing him the crochet hook in the flat of her hand before she picked up the sodden threads.

She exhaled, long and slow, trying to calm the tremble in her fingers as she looped the yarn and began to work, her mind racing even as her hands found familiar movements.

Crochet. Right. He wanted her to make something, here, now. She needed to make something fast. Something that looked impressive enough to satisfy him, but simple enough to be done before the tide decided to join them in the cave.

A jellyfish.

The thought flickered in her mind like lightning.

Last year, she had made dozens of them — some as little hanging decorations, some flat like coasters, cute and simple. The design was burned into her memory. Bright colors, curly tentacles. Easy.

Perfect.

She swallowed, adjusting her grip on the yarn and pulling her hook through the loops with more confidence now, as muscle memory took over. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him.

He was still coiled protectively between her and the exit, but now he seemed… fixated. Watching her hands, the way the thread looped and twisted under her fingers.

Her mind raced as her fingers worked the damp yarn, still feeling the weight of his stare, unrelenting, sharp, and far too close.

And then, slowly, he inched closer.

Closer.

Way too close.

By the time she was halfway done with the main body of the jellyfish, his face was mere inches from hers, darting his eyes between her concentrating expression and her hands. She tried to pretend her heart wasn’t slamming against her chest, but it was getting increasingly difficult to ignore the way his tendrils had crept silently over the rocks to surround her, some of them curling and uncurling near her feet, others bracing close to her sides like dark, living ropes.

For a creature that didn’t trust her, he clearly had no concept of personal space. She wet her lips nervously but didn’t stop working, feeling the heat of his gaze following every flick and twist of her fingers. “You know,” she murmured, not daring to look directly at him, “for someone so wary… you’re really not giving me a lot of room here.”

She risked a glance up, and for a fleeting second, she thought she saw a flicker of something in his eyes, amusement? Or maybe just sharper curiosity. His tendrils flexed against the rock, shifting slightly closer. One of them slid forward and she nearly flinched, but it didn’t touch her. No, it reached for the trailing end of yarn, brushing the thread lightly, as though testing the texture.

He made a low sound in his throat, almost like a hum, flicking his eyes from the yarn to her face and back again.

Her hands kept working, faster now, shaping the last round before starting the dangling "tentacles”: a few quick chains and curls, loose and wavy, the way jellyfish tendrils floated underwater.

"I’m making a jellyfish, by the way," she said quietly, filling the silence between them. "Not sure what you'll do with it down here, but-” She glanced at him, seeing how his brows furrowed slightly, as though trying to grasp her words. "But," she added gently, "you didn’t say what you wanted, so… this is what you’re getting."

Still, no answer. Just those sharp, blue, and way too focused eyes on her face. She tried to ignore how close he was. How she could see the faint shimmer of water on his skin, the way his dark hair clung to his temples. Almost done. Just a few more loops.

"If I finish this and give it to you," she murmured, working through the last stitch, "you’ll let me go, right?"

One of his tendrils curled slowly near her ankle, and she tensed before it retreated again, but he didn’t answer.

The final loop tightened under her hook, and she carefully turned the jellyfish over in her hands. It wasn’t her best work, but considering the circumstances? Pretty damn good. She held it up with slightly trembling fingers and finally met his gaze.

"Here," she whispered. "It’s for you."

For a long, heavy moment, he didn’t move.

Then one of his tendrils reached forward -slow, deliberate- and wrapped around the little yarn creature, lifting it gently from her hands. He held it delicately, looking at the bright red and orange yarn, wet but still vivid, which seemed almost to pulse in the dim light of the cave.

Her breath caught.

Was it enough?

His eyes flicked back to her, sharp and unreadable, before returning to the soft thing in his hold. Then, slowly, he brought it closer. He touched it with his hand, testing its weight and texture, making the curled tendrils bounce softly with his fingers. The way his clawed fingertips brushed over the loops of yarn was almost… reverent, like someone handling an unknown relic.

And when he lifted it to his face and sniffed it, she blinked in surprise. He made a low, thoughtful sound, something like a rumble deep in his chest, before glancing up toward the alcove where the seashell square hung. Not that she knew about it.

She didn't dare to move yet, holding her breath as his dark gaze returned to her, assessing, cold and sharp, and yet... there was something else there too.

Finally, with a rough, almost reluctant tone, he said, "Leave."

She didn't need to be told twice.

"Right. Leaving. Thanks," she mumbled, starting to push herself to her feet.

But as soon as she moved, pain shot up her leg and she stumbled with a sharp intake of breath, catching herself awkwardly on a slick rock. She heard him exhale a frustrated, almost growling sound.

And before she could even react, he was moving, fast and smooth despite his bulk.

Tendrils lashed out, wrapping around her waist, and before she could yelp properly, he hoisted her like she weighed nothing, slinging her over one broad shoulder in a way that knocked the air out of her lungs.

"What the-?! Hey!"

But he was already moving, crawling effortlessly across the rocks, with his powerful limbs and tendrils gripping surfaces with frightening ease.

She realized, squirming a little but not daring to struggle much, that he was carrying her toward the cave's exit, toward the open shore.

Despite the rush of fear and surprise, part of her brain registered the strength it took to lift her like this but he was using one arm and one tendril to support her, coiling firmly but not painfully around her, while he moved fluid and controlled.

When they reached the mouth of the cave, bathed in the cold morning light, he set her down, still holding her tightly with the tendril on her waist. She realized he wasn’t letting go. She barely had a moment to catch her breath before one strong hand cupped her face,pressing along her cheek and jaw, tilting her head to face him directly.

His eyes burned into hers, too close, too sharp.

"No one," he growled, like the sound of stones grinding together.

Her heart hammered.

"I- I won’t," she breathed, eyes wide.

His brow furrowed, searching her face for any sign of a lie, and for a long, tense moment, they simply stared at each other.

Then, with a final squeeze on her waist, -reminding her just how easily he could break her if he wanted- he let her go.

She stumbled back a step, watching him as he slowly retreated into the shadows of the cave, taking her jellyfish with him like a strange prize.

----

Once alone, he slipped back into the shadows, feeling the cool kiss of the water as he submerged into his favorite pond again.

But for once, the calm he usually found there didn’t come. The little jellyfish dangled from his hand, dripping seawater, with its soft yarn tendrils swaying gently with the motion of his arm.

He lifted it again, inspecting it closer now that the human was gone.

Red and orange, bright like the creatures that danced in the deep where no human dared to go. It shouldn’t exist here, among these dull coastal grays and browns, but maybe that’s why he liked it. It reminded him of things from the trenches of the sea, strange, delicate, and dangerous all at once.

With careful fingers, he turned it, watching how the thin tendrils curled and bounced with every shift, and for a moment he wondered, how did she know how these creatures were? And, did she guess what might catch his eye, or was it just luck?

His gaze drifted to the alcove where the seashell square still hung, weathered and faded from salt and air. Frowning thoughtfully, he slithered from the pool and grabbed another thin piece of fishing line. Working deftly, he tied the jellyfish, letting it dangle beside the square, and the breeze filtering through a vent stirred both pieces gently.

The tendrils danced, twisting and swaying as if alive, and something about that made his chest tighten in a way he didn’t understand or didn’t want to.

She had made this for him, even if coaxed.

And true to her word, it didn’t reek of magic, no strange tingling in the fibers, no shimmer of spells on its surface. Just simple human craft. He stared at it, folding his arms over the edge of the alcove and resting his chin on his wrist, watching the little creature spin lazily in the wind.

After a while, he found his thoughts drifting back to her, the way she’d stared at him, wide-eyed but trying to stay calm. The way she’d carefully spoken to him in a soft, and unsure voice.

Her face, her eyes.

Pretty.

He huffed to himself, irritated at the thought.

Pretty, for a human. Not that it mattered.

Still…

His brow furrowed.

Did she have a mate?

The question rose before he could stop it, crawling at the edge of his mind. Maybe someone waiting in that lair on the cliff? A male that would come looking if she didn’t return one day?

But then again...

If she had a mate, why would she spend so much time alone, sitting by his rocks, working with her strange threads? His tendrils twitched restlessly against the stone.

It wasn’t his business.

He firmly told himself that, squeezing the edge of the alcove a little too tightly. She was just a reckless human. One he should’ve scared off properly.

And yet, when the jellyfish spun again in the breeze, he watched it, and behind his eyes, he saw her hands moving, and her lips parting as she worked.

----

By the time she reached the cottage, her legs were trembling, partly from the cold of her soaked clothes, and partly from the leftover adrenaline rushing through her veins. The door slammed shut behind her, and she pressed her back to it, breathing hard, as if expecting him to have followed her all the way there.

But, of course, he didn’t.

She winced as she bent to take off her jeans, feeling the forming bruise at the base of her spine, joining the throbbing of her leg from where she’d landed in that stupid pond. "Great. Add that to my collection of regrets."

Once free of the wet clothes, she wrapped herself in a soft towel, padding barefoot to the bathroom to start the shower, replaying the whole encounter.

A cecaelia.

She knew the folklore. Old stories and whispered warnings of half-man, half-octopus creatures that lurked in the deep, dragging sailors under the sea, charming swimmers to their deaths, or seducing them into the dark.

Not that she ever believed those tales. Until today.

And God, even furious and unfriendly as he was, he was painfully, otherworldly handsome, in a way that made her stomach twist uncomfortably. She didn’t want to think how could it be to look at those features when they decided to charm instead of being hostile.

She turned her back to the mirror as she waited for the water to heat, rubbing absently at her bruised backside, but her mind wouldn't stop spinning. She could understand now why those old tales spoke of these creatures luring humans to them. There was something magnetic about him, even if she didn't want to admit it.

But...

If he really wanted to hurt her, he could have.

He could’ve crushed her throat, or dragged her under the water until she stopped breathing, hell, he had carried her like she weighed nothing at all. First slung over his broad shoulder, holding her tight with his arm, and then later, when his tentacles wrapped her waist and lifted her to her feet, holding her firm as if she were a doll.

But instead, he had trusted, and warned her off. No one, he said, the words harsh and rough on his tongue.

Because if she talked… if people knew something was living out there, how long before curious fishermen came with nets? Before reporters descended on the town, or researchers, trying to trap him, study him? Or worse?

All he wanted was to be left alone. And she -stupidly- had wandered straight into his home, poking around like some tourist in a forbidden place.

She sighed, finally stepping into the shower, letting the hot water pound her skin, washing away the salt and the fear. But even as the warmth soaked into her muscles, she couldn’t stop thinking of the way his tentacles had flexed when he watched her work, how close his face had gotten when he stared at her like he was trying to figure her out.

And then she wondered, what parts of the old stories were true.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @civilbucky @thatesqcrush @lonelyghosts-stuff @x-press-it @the-voice-beckons-below @angelilacsworld @dollface-xoxo @mcira

dividers by @/strangergraphics

[bestanimal]

Round 3 - Reptilia - Procellariiformes

(Sources - 1, 2, 3, 4)

Our next order of birds are the Procellariiformes, collectively called “tubenoses.” They are comprised of the living families Procellariidae (“petrels” and “shearwaters”), Diomedeidae (“albatrosses”), Hydrobatidae (“northern storm petrels”), and Oceanitidae (“austral storm petrels”).

Procellariiformes live almost exclusively on the open ocean. Their nostrils are enclosed in one or two tubes on their straight, deeply-grooved bills with hooked tips. Procellariiformes that nest in burrows have a strong sense of smell, being able to detect dimethyl sulfide released from plankton in the ocean. This strong sense of smell helps to locate patchily distributed prey at sea and may also help locate their nests within nesting colonies. Their wings are long and narrow. Their feet are webbed, and the hind toe is undeveloped or non-existent. Procellariiforms drink seawater, so they have an enlarged nasal gland at the base of the bill, above the eyes, which removes salt from their system and forms a 5 percent saline solution that drips out of the nostrils, or is forcibly ejected in some petrels. Many are long-distance migrants. They live in every ocean and sea, from Greenland to Antarctica, but are most diverse around New Zealand. Procellariiformes are for the most part exclusively marine foragers; the only exception to this rule are the two species of giant petrel, which regularly feed on carrion or other seabirds while on land. The diet of most species is dominated by fish, squid, krill, and other marine zooplankton. They obtain food by snatching prey while swimming on the surface, snatching prey from the wing, or diving down under the water to pursue prey.

Procellariiforms are colonial, mostly nesting on remote, predator-free islands. Larger species nest on the surface, while most smaller species nest in natural cavities and burrows. They exhibit strong philopatry, returning to their natal colony to breed and returning to the same nesting site over many years. Procellariiforms are monogamous and form long-term pair bonds that are formed over several years and may last for the life of the pair. A single egg is laid per nesting attempt, and usually a single nesting attempt is made per year, although the larger albatrosses may only nest once every two years. Both parents participate in incubation and chick rearing. Incubation times are long compared to other birds, as are fledging periods. Once a chick has fledged there is no further parental care.

Procellariiforms emerged in the Eocene, with some possible Late Cretaceous records. They are most closely related to penguins, having diverged from them about 60 million years ago.

Propaganda under the cut:

The Sooty Shearwater (Ardenna grisea) has the second longest measured annual migration of any bird, flying from its breeding grounds in New Zealand and Chile to the North Pacific off Japan, Alaska, and California, an annual round trip of 64,000 km (40,000 mi).

Some individual Snowy Albatrosses (Diomedea exulans), also called Wandering Albatrosses, are known to circumnavigate the Southern Ocean three times in one year, covering more than 120,000 km (75,000 mi).

Fulmarine Petrels can fight off even large predatory birds with their noxious stomach oil, which they can project some distance. This stomach oil, stored in the proventriculus, is a digestive residue created in the foregut of all tubenoses except the diving petrels, and is used mainly for storage of energy-rich food during their long flights. The oil is also fed to their young.

The Light-mantled Albatross (Phoebetria palpebrata) has been recorded diving to 12 m (39 ft) underwater, and the Short-tailed Shearwater (Ardenna tenuirostris) diving to 70 m (230 ft)!

Albatrosses have featured in poetry in the form of Samuel Taylor Coleridge's famous 1798 poem The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, which in turn gave rise to the usage of albatross as a metaphor for a psychological burden, as the Mariner felt extreme guilt for the albatross he had killed. More generally, albatrosses were believed to be good omens, and to kill one would bring bad luck. There are also instances of petrels in culture; there are sailors' legends regarding the storm petrels, which are considered to warn of oncoming storms. In general, petrels were considered to be "soul birds", representing the souls of drowned sailors, and it was considered unlucky to touch them.

The oldest living wild bird is Wisdom, a female Laysan Albatross (Phoebastria immutabilis). She is estimated to have hatched in 1951, making her 73 or 74 years old. First tagged in 1956 at Midway Atoll by the United States Geological Survey (USGS), she was still incubating eggs as late as 2024. Biologists estimate that Wisdom has laid some 30–40 eggs in her lifetime and that she has at least 30–36 chicks. She and her chick survived the 2011 Tōhoku earthquake and tsunami that killed an estimated 2,000 adult Laysan and Black-footed Albatrosses and an estimated 110,000 chicks at the Refuge. The 2011 chick went on to have a chick of her own, making Wisdom a grandmother. Her newest chick hatched on January 30, 2025.

Procellariiformes are amongst the most severely threatened taxa worldwide, with threats varying from species to species. There are less than 200 Magenta Petrels (Pterodroma magentae) breeding on the Chatham Islands, only 130 to 160 Zino's Petrels (Pterodroma madeira) and only 170 Amsterdam Albatrosses (Diomedea amsterdamensis). The Guadalupe Storm Petrel (Hydrobates macrodactylus), which bred only on Guadalupe Island off Baja California, Mexico, is presumed extinct after the introduction of Domestic Cats to the island decimated the population during the late 19th century. The Fiji Petrel (Pseudobulweria macgillivrayi) has been rarely seen since its discovery, and is inferred to have a small population of less than 50, if it is not extinct. The Bermuda Petrel (Pterodroma cahow) was thought to be extinct for 300 years, until the dramatic rediscovery in 1951 of eighteen nesting pairs made it a "Lazarus species".

The principal threat to the albatrosses and larger species of procellariids is long-line fishing. Bait set on hooks is attractive to foraging birds and many are hooked by the lines as they are set. As many as 100,000 albatrosses are hooked and drown each year on tuna lines set out by long-line fisheries. Invasive species introduced to the remote breeding colonies threaten all types of procellariiform. Most albatross and petrel species are clumsy on land and unable to defend themselves from mammals such as rats, Domestic Cats, and Domestic Pigs. Other threats include the ingestion of plastic flotsam. Once swallowed, plastic can cause a general decline in the fitness of the bird, or in some cases lodge in the gut and cause a blockage, leading to death by starvation. Procellariids are also vulnerable to marine pollution, as well as oil spills. Some species which nest high up on large developed islands, are victims of light pollution. Fledging chicks, which would use the night sky to navigate, are attracted to streetlights and may then be unable to reach the sea. As procellariiforms are extremely slow breeders, laying 1 egg (or less) a year, they cannot replace their numbers fast enough once the population begins to decline.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

fic authors self rec! when you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five of your other fave writers. spread the self-love!

thank you for tagging me @suguwu sorry this took me a sec to get to!! i have been cooking it up in my mind though !! hehe

Threefold | Honkai Star Rail — Mydei

When the husband you’ve never met returns from the war you’ve never understood, he comes bearing a strange and inexplicable gift — a prince in chains who he refuses to kill.

notes: this is my most recent project ergo i am the happiest with it atm HAHA i think my prose is at its strongest here!! honestly the idea for the plot really came to me in a vision…the image of mydeimos as the reluctant prisoner appeared so clearly to me that i had no choice but to build entire world to make it a reality!! (although in terms of world building i have done the bare minimum i feel LMAO very fast and loose fs) even though i haven’t met him in-game yet hehe he’s just very handsome yk haunts my waking hours and whatnot

Seabird | Blue Lock — Sae Itoshi

Thanks to a chance encounter on the beach, you spend your vacation trying to apologize to the famous soccer player you inadvertently offended. Unfortunately, Sae Itoshi has other plans.

notes: i feel like i would be remiss if i didn’t mention seabird!! this one was so much fun to write if only because reader and sae had the funniest dynamic i think i’ve ever written. they are so hater4hater and all of their conversations (plus the little brother’s snarky asides) had me giggling as i came up with them. i think in terms of prose it’s definitely a lot more functional compared to like threefold but that kind of lends it that silliness and charm?? so i still love it HAHA

Hierophant | Honkai Star Rail — Sunday

Sunday is your mirror, as you are his — or, how meeting him spells your doom, just like losing you spells his.

notes: did i know anything about sunday when i wrote this?? debatable (it was a birthday gift). forget about robin LMAOO this is definitely THE most ooc oak siblings you will ever see but i enjoyed it making it regardless!! it’s a 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝓭𝓪𝔂 fic more than anything and very speculative/open to interpretation in its entirety which is what i was hoping to get across hehe like i have my ideas for what i think happened but truly it’s not clear at all and it was fun withholding everything LFKDJD if that makes sense…coming up with the differences between halovians and humans as well as writing sunday’s slow deterioration and eventual breakdown was very fun for me!! i also loved switching between past tense and present tense for the different povs hehe it was a fun exercise writing-wise as well!!

The Instrument | Blue Lock — Michael Kaiser

Michael Kaiser is like a rose, and you are the songbird he cannot bear to lose.

notes: yes my opp michael kaiser is making an appearance here because unfortunately i actually do really love this piece LMAO i am not as much a fan of the part two because i only wrote it upon popular demand (i prefer leaving things open-ended) but part one i do by and large enjoy!! this was my first time ever writing in the present tense and i loveddd it HAHA it really unlocks a different style and vibe of writing for me so although i don’t always use it i def do like pulling it out every now and again which i wouldn’t have learned i can do without the instrument!!

Polar | Blue Lock — Nagi-Centric Genfic

This time, when Seishiro Nagi’s talent at soccer is discovered, it’s by a boy named Oliver Aiku — which goes about as well as you’d expect it to.

notes: this one is definitely a crazy one to put on here given that this is a genfic and i am a reader insert author but. i LOVE polar LMAOAOAO it was born of a silly conversation i had with one of my friends (jei if you’re seeing this hi) but it ended up being over 20k words of nagi character study in an au where he’s found by oliver instead of reo!! i love writing it hehe i think this is the proof nagi is my fav because like writing a genfic from a character’s pov is smth i’ve never done before and probs never will do again. but it was a blast at the time!!

no-pressure tagging: @luvether @loverducky @mewnbuns @kazucee @veraties (if any of you were tagged already i am sorry 🥹 i tried switching up who i tag too so i hope you all are okay with it please lmk if not so ik for next time 💖)

[dandelionsresilience]

Dandelion News - December 8-14

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $kaybarr1735 or check out my Dandelion Doodles for 50% off this month!

1. Rooftop Solar Keeps Getting More Accessible Across Incomes

“The long-term trend is that the median income for a household with rooftop solar is getting closer almost every year to that of the median income for owner-occupied households.”

2. Endangered seabirds return to Pacific island after century-long absence

“"No native species were harmed during the removal of invasive rats from Kamaka Island,” Esposito said. […] The team also collected and planted native sedges and grasses while removing invasive trees to enhance nesting conditions.”

3. First-of-its-kind crew welfare measure adopted at Pacific fisheries summit

“The new measure establishes minimum standards on board, including access to clean food and water, medical care, and sleeping quarters. It stipulates that workers have “unfettered access” to their identity documents […] and “unmonitored access to communication devices to seek assistance.””

4. Greyhound racing is increasingly rare worldwide. New Zealand now plans to outlaw the practice

“New Zealand’s government rushed through a law to prevent dogs from being killed while the industry winds down, unless a veterinarian deems it unavoidable. This will prevent owners from euthanizing dogs for economic reasons, Peters said.”

5. Possible Win-Win for Wildlife Management and Food Security

“Wild-harvested meat donation programs can help improve food insecurity while also helping manage overabundance of wildlife species like white-tailed deer[…. In one program,] hunters donated 600,000 meals. But that’s only 5.7% of the amount of venison that food donation facilities could use, according to the Food Bank Council of Michigan. The researchers say this suggests there’s room for scaling up these programs.”

6. Poll of American Farmers Shows Strong, Widespread Support for Increased Farm Bill Conservation Funding

“The polling, which surveyed over 500 farmers and ranchers across the country, found broad support for continuing and increasing funding for climate-smart agriculture conservation programs.”

7. Long-distance friendships enhance trust in conservation efforts

“Relative to a person with no long-distance friends, having even just one friend in another village led to a 15% increase in conservation activities such as beach cleanups, reporting illegal fishing practices and educating others about sustainable resource management.”

8. Two major Sunshine State airports make switch to 100 pct renewables

“Power for operations ranging from lighting and air conditioning to escalators and charging stations will be provided from renewable energy projects [...] at the beginning of 2025, ensuring clean energy operations for the more than 8 million passenger journeys averaged each year.”

9. Expansion of federally subsidized public housing may offer a path out of LA's homelessness crisis

“[… A] half-cent sales tax [was] recently approved by L.A. County voters expected to generate $1 billion per year to address homelessness. […] “Metros with higher concentrations of federally financed public housing tend to have lower rates of unsheltered homelessness," Schachner said.”

10. $20 Million Available to Advance Habitat Restoration Priorities of Tribes and Underserved Communities

“Through this funding, NOAA will help support community-driven habitat restoration and build the capacity of tribes and underserved communities to more fully participate in restoration activities.”

December 1-7 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[rxttenfish]

Chapters: 3/? Fandom:Monster Prom (Visual Novel) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Aaravi the Slayer/Miranda Vanderbilt, Bellanda Vanderbilt & Miranda Vanderbilt, Aaravi the Slayer & Bellanda Vanderbilt Characters: Aaravi the Slayer (Monster Prom), Miranda Vanderbilt, Bellanda Vanderbilt, Amanda Vanderbilt, Laudanda Vanderbilt, Valerie Oberlin Additional Tags: Cultural Differences, merfolk culture, Speculative Evolution, Worldbuilding, Meeting the Family, Horror, Abuse, Imperialism, Gore, More tags to be added as they come up, Fictional Holidays, Body Horror, Emetophobia, Biohorror, Culture Shock Chapter Summary: Aaravi jumps into the deep end and gets a taste of what's to come.

Chapter 3 of Caecilian is officially up!! Aaravi has a fun morning conversation that immediately devolves into seeing a very bad seabird and getting a LAN shoved into her head. Also, Val's there!

[foxbirdy]

hi!

just saw your pictures of you doing some marine biology fieldwork and i just wondered if you have any stories about the experience that you would like to share. Im in 1st year uni right now and i have no idea what im gonna specialize in other than “science!!” but i work on boats for my job right now (tallships, very cool stuff) and so marine environment work really appeals to me. If you have the time, I would love to get a picture of what the work you’re doing entails.

(What does the day-to day of marine biology research look like? What kind of stuff are you studying/information are you gathering? Whats it like? Is it awesome? feel free to answer none of these also)

thank you!!

OH, I'm jealous - it's a dream of my mine to get to work on a tallship. & I love to talk about this stuff!

In all honesty, the day-to-day changes pretty dramatically depending on what project work is available. Right now, as a student, a lot of what I'm involved in ties into coursework or research that's happening at the university! I volunteer with a couple different labs, and there's a huge variety of stuff to get in on. For example:

Last Saturday, I spent about six hours pulling otoliths and gonads out of eighty invasive roi, taape, and toau caught by local spearfishermen. Otoliths are the ear bones of fish, and similar to the rings of a tree, they have ringed annuli that can give a lot of information about the life history of the individual species. We cast these otoliths in resin, and then cut cross-sections to look at them under the microscope. The hope is that this information will help us understand when these species become reproductive, and how to control their populations.

The last several Fridays, I've been involved with an effort to collect some water quality and plankton data after a lot of heavy rain. This work was out on the boats, and we used deep and shallow drogues, YSI, light meter, secchi disk, and a couple plankton nets, moving out from the swollen rivermouth and into deeper, saltier water.

Last month, I spent a lot of time on invertebrate snorkel surveys, mostly looking for presence/absence in the nearshore. Next Tuesday, I'll be doing fish surveys in the same location. The Wednesday after I'm hopping on a wetlands restoration project & removing invasive bull grass, and a night snorkel afterwards. Next Friday is a lab day, working to process the plankton samples we've collected, and I'll be in the coral nursery afterwards. That's the really fun thing about university - there's so much different work going on, all the time!

In the summers, outside of school, that work is just as varied. I've really enjoyed having jobs that allow me to do a little bit of everything, and thus far, my supervisors have been very supportive of me in that. Here's some other projects I've gotten to work on, all within just one position:

Servicing passive monitoring systems! These are pictures of my replacing a SEABIRD logger, which has been taking a water temperature measurement every thirty seconds for the past 360 days. This helps conservation managers track heatwaves in sensitive ecosystems. We prepped new loggers with batteries and SD cards and waterproof tape to prevent biofouling, and then used snips and zipties to make the switch.

Scientific fishing! This helps get life history and population data for our target species, large pelagic fish. We collected biopsy samples, placed tags, and released primarily ahi, but also ono, and mahi. (Full disclaimer: this picture is from a subsistence fishing trip and not a scientific one, where people generally have too many things in their hands & are moving too quickly to take pictures. He was a very delicious dinner for our crew, though.)

Other marine tagging! I got to assist with bluewater cetacean tagging of several different dolphin and small whale species, and shark tagging for galapagos, blacktip reef, grey reef, and dusky sharks. Cetacean tagging was done with an air rifle, not easy at high speeds on the boat. Shark tagging was more hands-on, as we had to manually apply the tags.

Coral reef monitoring! The mission of these surveys was to track coral health through heat stress events, and to identify harmful species. I'm looking under the coral head in these pictures for crown-of-thorns starfish, one of the most urgent species threats to reefs in the Pacific.

This is the bastard. Notice the dead coral around him.

Oh I'm about to smack into the photo limit, huh. Please hold!

[amphiriteaquarium]

Greetins from under the waves!

This blog is specifically dedicated to

Seabird's Requiem

My personal project and eventually(hopefully) webcomic.The story centers around Mar(ella) a young adult that just got a job at the pristine and famous amphirite aquarium.

They aren't here to have fun.For Mar is actually on a mission find her mother.

Inspired by the caribbean side of Costa Rica this story is full of vivid characters,vibrant colors and most of all mermaids!

Main blog : @lavender-honey-arts

[luvnami]

shinazugawa sanemi is NOT the love interest of my dream office romcom! - chapter 3 (fuck me - no, not literally!)

ɞ an | this is a buildup to the okinawa trip arc in ch4 and ch5. i promise, we'll get more juicy bits soon! i wonder what will happen when sanemi and reader are on an island all by themselves... likes/comments/rb are appreciated. do let me know what you think about the fic! find the masterlist here ɞ cw / wc | mangaka!mitsuri and manager!obanai, sanemi's manboobs, blowjob mention, mdni (18+), 1.5k+

You think you might like ‘Doki-Doki Island Escape’ a little more than what you’d rather admit. You spend your weekend flipping through the first volume of the manga, in-between folding laundry and washing dishes (one of the many banes of your existence). 

The story starts off like any other: the protagonist visits her grandparents in Okinawa for summer vacation. She dreams about the ocean views and blue skies, but meets a boy her age that shows her the island’s secret: a magical gem that grants the user a single wish. As the pair explore the island and fall in love, they try to ignore their inevitable separation at the end of summer. 

The volume ends there. You put the book down and stare at the dark sky outside your apartment window, briefly thinking about a life where you’d wake up to the sound of waves crashing against the shore. There’s no boss breathing down your neck for project proposals, no skyscrapers obscuring the light-polluted sky. You close your eyes. If you try hard enough, you can almost smell the salty sea and hear the caw of seabirds.

Nope. It’s just a dream, after all, and the reality you live in is unfortunately a lot more pathetic than an idyllic Okinawan life. 

You wake up the next morning to your third alarm, blasting from your phone as the device vibrates off your nightstand and clatters to the ground. It’s Monday and you have 15 minutes to get ready for work. You curse and jump out of bed, though your comforter tangles around your legs and you tumble onto your bedroom floor with a muffled thump. You waste an extra minute unwrapping yourself and nursing the bump on your knee. 

You race around your tiny Tokyo apartment in record time to make yourself look somewhat presentable for the office. No matter how attractive you think a beefy, handsome manager scolding you for being late would be, Shinazugawa would rather have your head on a pike (which is, contrary to popular belief, not as attractive). You thank yesterday-you for having enough sense to iron your clothes in advance. You wriggle your head through your shirt, grab your blazer and bag, and bolt out the door – though you end up having to turn back because you’ve forgotten ‘Doki-Doki Island Escape’ on your bed, and you’re meeting with the client today.

The morning rush is as unforgiving as ever. You make space for yourself on the packed train by shoving your way through, muttering ‘sorry’s that don’t sound very sorry in the first place. You look at the time on your phone. Maybe you’ll have enough time to grab breakfast at the convenience store. As the doors open and droves of people step off the train, you yelp and clutch onto a handlebar to avoid being swept off with the crowd. So much for that Okinawa dream.

You make it to the office on time and in one piece. It’s a miracle, really.

“Hey, you’re not late today!” Masachika grins. 

You pretend to swing your fist at his head. He easily dodges, laughing it off. You spend the next ten minutes scarfing down your breakfast (red bean bread and a carton of juice) as Masachika tells you what he did over the weekend: taking care of his niece, watching a movie with his partner, the new recipe for chicken nanban he tried out. Way more entertaining and productive than your own weekend. 

You don’t have the heart to tell him that you spent half the time writing a new smut fic, so you lie about preparing for today’s meeting. The doubtful face Masachika gives you makes you feel a little bad, but not enough for you to tell the truth. You really, really don’t want to elaborate on how your protagonist gets eaten out by a vampire hottie. 

At 9.30am, you head over to a meeting room with Masachika and Shinazugawa. Your clients are already seated inside. The author, Kanroji Mitsuri, is all pretty in pink. Her eyes glitter and for a moment, you’re stunned, recoiling as sparkles and flowers pop up all around her face with a lovey dovey theme song playing in the background. Her aura shines like the sun. 

“Shinazugawa! Hi!” she smiles, and you’re almost knocked out by the pureness that radiates off of her. 

It’s a stark contrast compared to her manager, Iguro Obanai. Kanroji and him are as different as night and day. He’s dressed in all black and has a face mask on, with a glare so deadly it makes you want to prostrate yourself and beg for forgiveness for breathing the same air as him. You’re not quite sure who’s more terrifying – him or Shinazugawa. The more you think about it, the more you consider resigning from your job and living as a NEET, so that you never have to interact with men who haven’t outgrown their puberty-induced rebellious phase (i.e., Shinauzawa Sanemi and Iguro Obanai who think that glowering at everyone and everything is cool. It is not. It makes them look unapproachable and like a prick, not quite quiet and mysterious and Edward from Twilight as they intend to be. Though, you’re not one to gentle-parent a man into being socially approachable, so that’s on them to figure out). 

“Shinazugawa,” Iguro mumbles, though it doubles as a greeting. “Let’s make this fast. We have a lunch appointment after this, and I hate being late.”

You take a seat with Shinazugawa opposite Kanroji and Iguro, as Masachika serves everyone tea. Thankfully, even though your boss has a temper that reckons he must’ve been born out of Satan’s asshole, he’s professional and dependable when it matters. It turns out that Shinazugawa and Iguro have worked together before. A pair of unlikely friends, though you keep that thought to yourself since you do want to live to see another day. 

The meeting goes by smoothly. Kanroji is easygoing, and agrees wholeheartedly with the idea that you propose – a large poster set-up at a train station. It’ll help passengers connect the story of the manga with a vacation destination, and reach out to a varied audience on their daily commute. You’re relieved as Kanroji gushes excitedly over it, though you try to ignore the daggers that Iguro is throwing at you with his eyes. Shinazugawa silently nods along as you speak. You’re pleasantly surprised he doesn’t interrupt you. 

The meeting ends with setting a date to see each other again in a month. You attempt to scamper off to your desk after sending Kanroji and Iguro off, but Shinazugawa calls for you and Masachika to stay back in the meeting room for a little longer. 

“We’ll make a trip to Okinawa this weekend,” he says, arms crossed over his chest (drool-worthy, strong and broad, insert another fifty adjectives here to convey the sheer delight of a man’s boobs). 

You gape. It isn’t strange for teams to conduct field research to understand the subject of their projects better, though Okinawa seems a little out of the company’s budget for you to take Shinazugawa at face value. 

“Seriously?” Masachika scratches the back of his neck, sighing. “What a waste. I took the weekend off because I have to take my parents to the hospital for a check-up. I guess it’ll just be the both of you, then.”

Wait. Wait, wait, wait. 

“Alright. I’ll see you at the airport Saturday morning,” Shinazugawa nods at you.

Cut the cameras.

You are not about to go on a two-day-one-night trip to Okinawa with your manager. Sure, the purpose of the trip is to collect research material for your project, but it doesn’t help that it’s Shinazugawa Sanemi is the one going with you (read again: SHINAZUGAWA SANEMI, HOTHEADED BOSS, KNOWS YOU WRITE FANFICTION ABOUT HIM, AND IS HOT AS FUCK).

Heaven and hell must be plotting against you, because you don’t know if you’re overcome with joy or despair. 

You hope that you’re sharing – NO! You will have separate rooms. There will be absolutely no tomfoolery. This is not a real life fanfiction fever dream come true, where there is only one bed and Okinawa will be storming all weekend so you’re forced to stay indoors with each other’s company. This is a very professional work trip, thank you very much. 

“Yeah,” you mutter under your breath. “Yeah. I can do this.”

You’re strong. You’re independent. You will not fall for the office eye candy that is Shinazugawa Sanemi. As much as you can appreciate any well-groomed and decent looking man, office relationships are a line you’ve never considered crossing. It’s dangerous yet enticing, although you’d rather spend your time worrying about your 13th month bonus than sucking someone’s dick in the office storeroom on your lunch break. 

Shinazugawa gives you a puzzled look. The more he tries to understand you, the more he realises you are simply an enigma to him. He doesn’t know why he even bothers. A vein pops out on his forehead. 

“If you’re done talking to yourself about nothing, then you can go back to your work,” he seethes. 

“Yes! I’m sorry, we’re on our way!” 

You squeak out an apology and shove Masachika out of the meeting room. 

“I can’t believe you’re abandoning me with Shinazugawa,” you sniff. 

“I know you’ve dreamt about it. Make sure to use protection, okay?”

“Shut up! It’s not like that!” 

Masachika laughs and you whack him over the head.

[skyward-floored]

Hi new fic

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52017334/chapters/131545159

Summary:

“Twilight is that a cat?” the Champion asked loudly, and Twilight cringed as the argument stopped, everyone staring over at where Wind was sitting primly on his unhurt shoulder.

“Ah... right. Guess the cat’s out of the bag,” he mumbled.

Wind twitched his whiskers.

———

Wind has a run in with Twilight’s necklace. He does not appreciate this, especially since turning back proves to be... difficult.

At least he has claws.

...

Read the fic on ao3, or read it here under the cut :)

Wind came tumbling out of the portal with a shout, rolling down the hill he’d suddenly found himself on for several paces before he managed to stop his frantic descent.

Ow.

He spat a mouthful of grass out when he finally stopped moving, and looked around at where he’d ended up, noting the seabirds flying above his head with a spark of excitement. Maybe he was back home? Maybe he’d get to see Grandma and Aryll and Tetra and everyone again?!

Wind continued to look around, but his excitement faded as he noted the high cliffs and significant amount of land around.

Probably not his.

A sigh escaped him as he looked to his side, and he jumped a little, scrambling backwards from the cliff he suddenly realized he was sitting next to.

Yikes, glad I didn’t roll a few feet further, he thought with a gulp, taking note of the steep drop and rough ocean below. Even if he fell and managed to slow his descent, there didn’t appear to be anywhere to climb up out of the water.

A screech caught his attention, and Wind was abruptly reminded of the reason he’d fallen through the portal in the first place.

He and the other heroes had been in the middle of a battle when a portal had appeared, the dark lizalfos sneering at them before escaping through. Despite Warriors telling them all to stay away from it, Wind had ended up fighting closer, then been knocked through by moblin’s club.

Leaving him here, alone on a cliff with monsters charging towards him.

He scrambled to his feet as several bokoblins and a sizable group of miniblins ran towards him, and he grabbed the phantom sword, which had fortunately come with him.

Wind leveled his blade as the first monster lunged at him, and with a small flourish, he jumped around it and watched as it’s momentum took it straight over the cliff.

That guy obviously wasn’t black-blooded, he thought with a snort, listening to its squeals as it fell.

A distant splash came from below, and the other monsters howled in anger, Wind wiping some dirt from his cheek with a grin.

“Thought you could just shove me off, huh?” he smirked, leveling his blade. “You’ll have to do better than that, ye scurvy dogs!”

The monsters jabbered angrily and charged him all at once, but Wind easily knocked them backwards with a spin attack. He worked on maneuvering himself away from the cliff while he fought, trying to take out as many monsters as he could and not be flung over the edge, and made fairly steady progress.

Their numbers began to thin the longer Wind fought against them, and he only had a small gash on his arm and a few cuts to show for it. His injuries weren’t slowing him down at all as he continued to fight the monsters, and Wind felt a familiar sort of confidence pump through his veins the more of them he eradicated.

Wind even managed to knock a couple more monsters off the cliff nearby, though unfortunately none of the ones that had black blood dripping from cuts.

Those were the ones giving him the most trouble, dodging his thrusts and avoiding his attempts to outsmart them. Wind panted a little as he swiped away two miniblins, and looked around at the monsters. There were only a few left, all infected he was sure, based on the intelligent gleam in their dark eyes.

Well they’re not getting the better of me, black blood or not!

He twirled his sword and grinned at the monsters, but then a loud shout rang out from nearby.

Wind whirled around to see Twilight fly out of the portal, blood on his shoulder.

The rancher hit the ground with a grunt and began tumbling down the hill, much in the same way as Wind had done earlier. Twilight was a lot bigger than Wind though, and the sailor abruptly realized his momentum would likely send him right over the cliff, just like the earlier bokoblin.

Oh no, not on my watch!

Wind took out one of the bokoblins that was flagging, and grabbed in his pouch for his hookshot. Executing a backflip towards a nearby tree, he aimed at where Twilight was rolling, and fired.

He was too far away to use anything else to grab his fellow hero, and hoped he’d aimed well enough not to hurt Twilight too much.

The chain shot outwards as Wind fired, soaring straight for Twilight’s already-bloody shoulder, his pelt and a few other items having come lose in his fall. But the rancher had seen him fire the chain, and right as Wind thought either the hook would gouge right into him or he’d go flying over the cliff, Twilight reached out a hand and snatched the chain.

A relieved sigh escaped Wind’s lips, but as the slack caught up to him he nearly fell over, grunting with effort as he called on the strength of his power bracelets. Maybe Twilight needed to lay off Wild’s desserts, he weighed a ton.

A bokoblin’s screech reminded him he wasn’t alone, and Wind growled in annoyance. He gathered his strength and gave the chain a sharp heave, looping it around a nearby tree branch before turning to block a strike from one of the monsters.

It snarled, more ferocious of a sound than Wind was used to hearing from their species as it swiped at him with its sword, and he suddenly realized the other monsters had disappeared.

He looked around in suspicion as he fought against the bokoblin, wondering if maybe the monsters hadn’t been quite as smart as he’d thought.

Had they just... fallen off the cliff?

Twilight shouted nearby and Wind turned to see that no, the monsters had not fallen off the cliff, but rather taken advantage of Twilight’s somewhat vulnerable state. One of the bokoblins had jumped on Twilight’s back while the remaining miniblins jabbed at his legs with their pitchforks, leaving him weighed down and outnumbered.

Not to mention getting closer to the cliff again.

Wind frowned determinedly, and managed to stab the bokoblin that was bothering him through the middle, sending it to the dirt. As it exploded into dust, he ran towards Twilight, who was struggling to remove the bokoblin from his back while also keeping away the other monsters with his injured shoulder.

The rancher succeeded in kicking back a few that weren’t clinging to his neck, and Wind viciously swiped at them, sending multiple miniblins off the cliff with squealing cries. The other monsters made use of the distraction and a few of them split off, grabbing Twilight’s pelt with mischievous cackles.

Wind growled in frustration, unsure of whether to go after Twilight’s stuff or help Twilight himself, but then the rancher threw the bokoblin that was on his back off himself, and into the sea below.

Wind decided he was doing fine, and charged towards the miniblins, who squealed as they saw him approach. He cut down the one that had grabbed Twilight’s pelt, then ran after two others that had something gripped in their little claws.

As Wind swung at the miniblins, one of them wound it’s arm back and threw something into the air before Wind’s sword struck it, and Wind realized it was Twilight’s necklace.

It went flying right for the cliff, and Wind bolted, throwing himself forwards and just barely managing to snag the cord before it was lost forever in the ocean below. He let out a relieved phew, looking down at the waves. The immediate area had finally gone silent, and there wasn’t a monster in sight when Wind glanced back at Twilight to check.

He grinned to himself, and got to his knees. That was a close one, but both of them, and Twilight’s stuff, were safe.

And they’d won the battle!

Wind held the severed cord up to look at the strange little pendant, orange lines glowing in the faint sunshine.

It was a weird necklace, all spiky and glowing, and something about it felt... off. But Twilight always said he didn’t really like magic, so it must just be a cool rock or something.

Wind got to his feet, still admiring the strange necklace, then set it in his palm to take back to Twilight.

“Sailor no!”

The warning came mere seconds too late.

The moment the pendant touched Wind’s skin, a wave of intense pain shot through him, and he yelped in surprise as he fell back to the ground, black flecking in his vision.

Twilight shouted nearby and Wind tried to reply, but something in his very being seemed to twist, making a response impossible.

Magic flowed through him and around him, bones shifted inside of him, inside out and upside down as another cry was ripped from his throat that didn’t sound right at all and the world suddenly felt like it was falling away—

Darkness overcame him and he knew no more.

(...)

Wind came back to himself slowly.

Loud noises echoed around him, sharp but fuzzy at the same time, and his dizzied brain couldn’t really focus on them when he tried. Especially due to the deep ache that seemed to have settled in every single bone in his body, weighing him down.

Wind tried to raise his head, but the ache increased sharply, and he let it fall with a wince.

A groan escaped him, but the sound that came out of his mouth was not what he expected at all: a strange grumble that didn’t sound even remotely hylian, with a squeaky note to it.

That came from me?

Something cold settled into Wind’s stomach at the strange noise he’d made, and he struggled to open his eyes, blinking up at the concerned (and slightly panicked) face of Twilight.

But something about the rancher seemed... off.

Like, really off.

Twilight tried to give him a smile, but the edges were thin, and despite how strange his vision was (had he hit his head? That would explain why everything sounded weird too—) Wind could tell he was trying not to panic.

Which admittedly, rather made him want to panic, because Twilight never panicked and if he was panicking over what happened to Wind than it must be bad—

“Link, just stay calm, okay?” Twilight said, but despite his even tone of voice, Wind only felt his panic grow at the uncertainty of what had just happened. “You’re okay, I promise, just take it slow.”

Wind tried to sit up then, but his balance was all off and he fell right back down, breathing shakily as he tried desperately to keep calm.

“What’s going on Twilight? What happened to me?!” he cried, or at least tried to.

Instead of words though, all that came out of his mouth were a serious of panicked meows.

Wind slammed his mouth shut, so utterly shocked that it took him a moment to realize that his mouth didn’t feel right either. Sharp teeth pricked against the inside of his lips, and his tongue felt bumpy, sort of like the sensation of sand on bare feet.

The realization of what happened, as unbelievable as it was, suddenly slammed into Wind like a hurricane, and he stared down at the creamy-yellow paws that had once been his feet.

He was a cat.

Somehow he’d been turned into a cat!

Twilight might’ve been speaking again, but Wind was too busy trying to get a good look at himself, taking in his windswept fur and the whiskers he could feel on his face. He even had a tail, stuck right onto his rear end.

A breeze hit his face, brushing his fur and whiskers, and the feel of it was all wrong, so wrong, everything about himself just felt wrong wrong wrong—

Something touched his head, and Wind was so high-strung from shock and leftover panic that he jumped (though it was more of a stumble) backwards, a startled hiss coming from his mouth.

“Wind whoa, I’m not going to hurt you,” Twilight soothed, and Wind realized the rancher had been the one to touch him, probably trying to calm him down.

He swallowed, and managed to ease himself back down, feeling his ears flatten in embarrassment. He tried to give Twilight an apologetic look, and the rancher seemed to understand, giving him a small smile. The hand was carefully extended towards him again, and this time Wind let Twilight run a soothing hand through his fur.

If he closed his eyes and ignored how the rancher’s hand was currently bigger than his head, he could almost imagine Twilight was just giving his hair a fond ruffle.

“Sorry sailor, I shouldn’t have startled you,” Twilight said. “I’m... I’m so sorry this happened,” he said more quietly, looking frustrated at himself. “I should’ve warned you not to touch the pendant.”

Wind blinked at him, suddenly suspicious of why Twilight had a pendant that turned people into cats anyway. What use was that?! And he’d never even seen Twilight use it to turn into a cat before. Plus Twilight didn’t like magic, especially not dark magic.

What was going on here?

“I guess you deserve an explanation,” the rancher sighed, not following his train of thought. “This... it’s leftover magic from my journey. It was originally a curse, but with the help of the Master Sword I was able to use it for my own advantage. It... allows me to become the animal that aligns most closely with my spirit, which...”

Twilight paused, looking a little nervous.

“Which is, well... a wolf.”

Wind blinked, then the pieces of the puzzle clicked and his tail stood straight up in shock.

Twilight was Wolfie!

Wind yowled in equal surprise and excitement, startling himself a little at the sound that came out of his lungs, but it was mostly overcome by his excitement.

Twilight being Wolfie made so much sense, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it before— looking back it was so obvious and...

...and why hadn’t Twilight told them?

Twilight seemed to figure out the meaning of his yowling well enough, and scratched the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I’m... Wolfie. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I wasn’t sure how everyone would take it, this magic isn’t completely... light,” he said awkwardly.

Wind thought back to the agony that had stretched and shifted his bones only a little while ago, twisting him into a form that was very much not his own, and shivered a little. He could see how it wasn’t exactly light magic.

But despite how achy and weird Wind felt, he didn’t feel like the magic that was in him now was actively malicious. It had changed him, but it had only done that, and apart from the slight pulse of it he could feel in his one paw, it wasn’t doing anything more to him as far as he could tell.

Twilight obviously didn’t mean any harm by it, and used the magic a lot with no bad or evil side effects or anything.

Wind shrugged, as much as he could as a cat, then stood up with a wobble, carefully testing each paw before trying to walk with it. He shakily made his way over to Twilight, then bonked his head against his knee with a small mrrow.

He didn’t trust the magic that had changed him. But he did trust Twilight.

Twilight huffed out a laugh at the gesture, and nodded at him, looking relieved at his acceptance. Wind tried his best to smile back, and felt a little better overall.

Not great though. Just better.

“Okay, our next goal is to find out where the others are, and get the Master Sword from Sky so we can fix you,” Twilight said with a thoughtful frown. “It’s the only way to get you back; when this happened to Legend, not even any of his crazy items were enough.”

Wind shot Twilight a wide-eyed look, and the rancher chuckled a little.

“Yeah, this happened to our veteran. He’d been transformed into an animal before though, so he wasn’t quite as shocked. I never would have expected he’d be bright pink, though.”

That must be why his hair turned pink that one night! Wind realized with a swell of glee, then let out a small mrrow of amusement. He couldn’t imagine how terrible Legend must have been as a little pink cat! ...unless he’d been a wolf like Twilight?

He’d have to add that to his rapidly growing list of ‘things to ask once he got his regular mouth back.’

“Right, so let’s get going,” Twilight said, dusting off his pants. “The portal closed after I fell through, so the others must be elsewhere. Hopefully they came through and we can find Sky quickly, and we won’t have to explain Wolfie to everyone...”

The rancher trailed off, looking a little anxious, and Wind tilted his head, studying him.

So that was why Twilight hadn’t told anybody. He must be afraid of what they would think of him being the random wolf that appeared and helped them out sometimes, and using a dark magic crystal thing to transform into him.

But the others would understand... wouldn’t they?

Wind caught Twilight’s attention and meowed at him, trying to look encouraging. Twilight looked down at him and snorted, shaking his head.

“I have no clue what you just said sailor. But thanks.”

Wind twitched his whiskers in amusement, and watched as Twilight stood up, holding his arm and grimacing a little. The sailor frowned, and when Twilight looked at him he meowed pointedly, looking at the blood staining his tunic.

He could smell the metallic scent in the air, sharper then normal, and it sure looked like a lot of blood to him.

“I’m fine sailor, it’s just a scratch. And I don’t have any potions, so there’s nothing I can do,” Twilight shrugged, wiping blood off his sword before sheathing it. “I’ll clean it once we find the others. I’ll be okay ‘til then.”

Twilight wandered a little ways up the hill in order to retrieve his pelt and a few other items he’d dropped before Wind could try to argue further, and Wind let out a small huff, then teetered after him, trying to get used to his new legs.

It wasn’t easy. He felt as unsteady as when he’d been sailing for weeks on end and finally gotten back to land, his paws wobbly and uncooperative underneath him. He was not used to four legs to deal with, and was unable to help the growl that rose in his throat as he tripped, tail lashing in annoyance.

How could he be helpful when he could barely walk?

Twilight came back to his side then, fully geared up, and Wind made an extra effort not to appear affected by his cumbersome paws. Twilight’s sharp eyes noticed immediately though, and he kneeled down next to him, offering a hand.

“I think you should ride with me for the time being sailor,” he said gently, wincing as Wind tripped again. “Just so we’ll make quicker ground.”

Wind lashed his tail. He could walk plenty fast!

To prove his point, he took a confident step forward, making an extra effort not to trip. But he was so focused on his feet, he forgot to pay attention to the ground, and tripped on a pebble and fell flat on his face.

Twilight winced, then offered his hand again, which Wind looked at grumpily before stumbling over to it.

Twilight gently scooped him up and placed him up on his shoulder, and Wind dug his claws into his pelt, figuring out how to comfortably sit. He finally nestled into a good spot, and Twilight began to move, back up the hill and into the forest beyond.

Wind looked behind them and watched the sea disappear behind the trees, and sighed to himself as a bit of wind blew past his whiskers.

This day was not going the way he’d thought it would.

[graciereadshannigram]

s/o to @threadsoflacee for the post that inspired this fic! originally posted here on tumblr, but then spent some time cleaning it up before posting to ao3. nothing major changed, mostly pretty minor edits!

(but i won't be mad if you click through to give it a reread ;))

Summary: Oblivious Will, my beloved, realizes he's attracted to Hannibal while they're enjoying a day at the beach together. Rating: Explicit Tags: Post-Canon, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Non-Sexual Intimacy, Masturbation, Sexuality Crisis, Bisexual Will Graham, Domestic Fluff, Unresolved Sexual Tension

Will settled back onto his towel, letting the sun drape over him like a warm, golden blanket. His gaze occasionally drifted to Hannibal’s sketching, but as the moments passed, he allowed himself to relax fully in the sun’s gentle embrace while the gentle rhythm of the waves lulled him into a state of deep contentment. He took another sip of his drink, savoring the way the flavors mingled with the briny air, the gentle lapping of the waves, and the distant calls of seabirds.  The cocktail Hannibal had prepared was doing its job—not so much dulling his senses as softening the hard edges of his mind, smoothing out the usual jaggedness that accompanied his every waking moment. A faint buzz of alcohol threaded through his bloodstream, not enough to intoxicate but just enough to quiet the noise in his mind, to drown out the lingering anxieties and ghosts of old fears. His muscles loosened as he sank further into the towel, his eyes fluttering shut as he let himself drift on the warmth and sound.