#ignore the algae on the tank wall

[shadythetortie]

A few of the fish I have in the tank! There's 3 rummynose, 5 embers and 5 galaxy rasboras.

Not included: the 56 other photos I took in my attempts to get non blurry pictures of my fish.

#ignore the algae on the tank wall #my algae scraper broke and I'm gonna get a new one tomorrow #fishblr #fish keeping #aquarium #tetras #rasboras

[marlynnofmany]

Friend-shaped

“She’ll want to pet it,” said a smug voice from the next room. “Humans will pet anything.”

“Even spiky things?” asked the skeptical voice that I recognized as Zhee. “I’ve never had a human want to pet me, and this thing is much worse.”

As curious as I was to see our newest cargo and judge for myself, I first had to finish setting out food for the animals in the next bay. I lugged in bags of dried pellets and fish jerky as the door slid shut behind me, cutting off the sound of Zhee insisting to the delivery person that there was no way under several suns that I would want to touch this new mystery animal. We’d see about that.

I stashed the pellets in the appropriate closet and pulled out a sheet of jerky for each of the three fangy monstrosities that twined around each other, trying to hypnotize me through the bars. I ignored the moving pattern of stripes that probably worked on prey from their world. Working quickly, I set the sheets down on the floor outside the cage, spaced as far apart as possible, then used a gravity wand to lift them through the bars without losing a finger. Left one, right, one, then the middle, to keep the beasties from all jumping on the same treat.

A chorus of happy growls and chewing noises filled the air. Success. I put away the gravity wand and reflected that I absolutely would have liked to scritch all three terrifying predators on the head, but I valued life and limb too much for that.

On to the next room! The doors opened and closed in quick succession. I passed other people loading and uploading various crates, but I only had eyes for the terrarium that looked like it was made of force fields instead of glass. Or maybe some room-temperature version of hard water, given that the person chatting with Zhee was a Waterwill. They had some pretty bizarre tech.

“Ah, here’s the human!” the Waterwill said happily, her voice burbly and vaguely female. “What do you think of your newest live cargo?” She extended what passed for an arm from her column-of-goo body. Beside her, Zhee spread purple pincher arms in a silent display of “ta-dah.”

Inside the tank I saw rocks, sand, a puddle of algae, and the ugliest little ball of snot and spikes that I had ever encountered. Protruding eyes struggled to focus on me like a wall-eyed Chihuahua that had rolled through the most unfortunate of trash piles.

“Wow,” I said, bending down for a closer look. “That’s an animal, all right.”

The Waterwill bobbed up and down. “And is it not, as you say, cutesy-wootsy?”

Zhee made various clicks and taps that were probably skepticism. I couldn’t blame him.

“Well,” I said, struggling for a tactful answer, “It sure is a little one. Looks a bit scared.”

“They always get twitchy when they’re moved around before egg-laying,” the Waterwill said with a dismissive wobble. “It’ll settle down when everybody stops walking by. It’s non-toxic. Maybe once it’s calm—”

The rest of her sentence was cut off by loud snarls from next door, carrying through the hall while both doors were open at the same time. It sounded like a brief squabble over fish jerky, no cause for alarm.

For me, anyway. The animal in the terrarium made a piercing squeak and tried to burrow under the rock, its spines growing visibly longer and flinging droplets of moisture as it trembled violently.

“Oh, that’s bad,” said the Waterwill, all cheer gone. “It could sour the eggs. Everybody be quiet! Move slowly!” She waved two armlets at the other people carrying boxes, who did as she asked.

Zhee was making a whistle that was probably a curse in his own language, or maybe someone else’s. “We’ll get blamed for egg troubles. Would dim light help? I’ll hit the controls.” He moved off on quiet bug legs.

“What else helps?” I asked. “Wait, there’s a manual for this, right?” Without waiting for a response, I unfolded a screen from my pocket and looked for the newest files. There it was. Easily searchable, too.

While I spent a moment on that, the room dimmed and quieted into a soothing nighttime. The other crewmates grabbed the remaining crates, left, and shut the door. I heard someone say to leave oncoming boxes in the hallway for the moment.

“It’s still stressed,” the Waterwill said. “We should have brought another one to soothe it!”

“Hang on, I found the sound files,” I said. “Here’s the soothing one.” At the press of a button, a brief gurgle played, then cut off. “That’s it?”

The animal turned toward me, then back to the rock. No change.

I asked the Waterwill, “I don’t suppose you can make that sound?” When she hesitated, I tried myself. Hard to do without any water around to gargle, but I managed an awkward warble in the back of my throat.

The animal’s shivering stilled.

“Keep doing that!” the Waterwill said with an urgent wave.

I did, feeling silly. But the animal liked it. The trembling ended, and the spines started to retract. When I paused for breath, the creature held perfectly still, then when I started again, the spines continued shortening. After a few moments, it was a slimy ball of green with eyes that stuck out, and soon enough those finally closed. When they opened again, they weren’t bulging any more.

A head lifted from the goo, with a cute little face that chirped curiously.

“Aw, look at you,” I said to it. “All calm and happy.”

It oozed over towards me, moving much like Waterwills did, without any legs. It nuzzled a hatch that I hadn’t noticed in the side of the tank.

“You said it’s non-toxic, right?” I asked, not waiting for a response. I’d skimmed the manual. The hatch opened easily for me to stick my hand in and stroke the slimy little head. It purred like a babbling brook.

“Told you,” said a voice behind me.

Zhee hissed.

I turned to see him handing over credits with a displeased tilt to his antennae. “Did you just lose a bet?” I laughed.

Zhee threw his pincher arms into the air. “It was covered in spikes! No fair changing shape like that.”

“Well, if we’re going to be fair,” I said. “I would have sacrificed a hairbrush to pet it through the spikes, if it liked that kind of thing.”

“Of course you would,” Zhee muttered.

“Righto,” the Waterwill said as she stuck the credits into a wallet pouch that floated among her other miscellaneous bits. “I can see it’s in good care here. Guess I’ll be off.”

I gave the creature one last stroke, then eased my hand out and closed the hatch, waiting to make sure it stayed calm. When it settled back into goo, I stood and joined the other two in soft-footing our way to the door. “I’ll keep an eye on it,” I promised.

“And a hand,” Zhee grumbled.

“I’ve petted worse,” I told him.

“I’m sure you have,” he said. “And I don’t want to hear about it.”

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character of this book. More to come!

#my writing #the Token Human #humans are weird #humans will pet anything #things that like to be petted #friend-shaped #pack bonding #humans are space orcs #haso #hfy #eiad #aliens #science fiction

[dawn-of-worlds]

The War for Wera

The forces of the Deep One Kǎlkayer face off against those of Kaluutalo (7 vs 7) and the natives of Wera (8 vs 8). The war becomes a stalemate, with much of the surrounding countryside depopulated and Wera only accessible by sea, but still holding out.

Neither gets what they want.

Kǎlkayer’s forces devastate the southern coast of the region, stripping the land bare. Punitive expeditions are mounted inland to destroy towns and burn crops, for Kǎlkayer has no need of such; by the coast cities are captured and their populations turned towards the cultivation of algae in bays, deltas and salt pans. Those slain inland are carried down to the coast as skeletons, to be bathed in the weedvats and rise as new drones for the Deep One. The army marches towards Wera, seemingly unstoppable.

But for all Kǎlkayer’s advantages, it is ignorant of many things, and siegecraft is one of them. Wera’s walls are not the strongest in the world, but they are manned by the forces of Kaluutalo; their armour is strong, their shields sharp, and their leaders wise. Three great assaults fail to take the walls, and sallies from the castle manage to spills and burn great tanks of algae-flesh that the army brought along to resupply itself. In a rage,  Kǎlkayer sends the drone of Ullunortho, a great Eppethikuja, to lead the next assault; the Deep One had hoped to save such a mighty weapon for stronger cities further north. The bones of the manta-dragon remember its control of winds, and it breaks down the west gate of Wera like a hurricane flattening a forest. Yet when it enters the courtyard, the Ataila are waiting for it.

The Ataila are few in number, but they are the most skillful of all mortal races, for they have had a long time to come by those skills. In the courtyard that day were three of the most ancient of their race; Yumöni, the Flower of Starlight, Esseḿi, the Premonition of Dawn, and Säpori, the Waker of Thunder. They were old before the first Eppethikuja was awoken off Kaniten; they have dwelt in each other’s hearts since before all other mortal races were woken; there are gods whom are youths to them. They lead the Ataila in the defense, and they slay Ullunortho when he comes through the gate, though Säpori is wounded unto death in the deed, and dies in the arms of those she loves most.

As the courtyard is retaken and the gate rebarred, Yumöni and Esseḿi swear a vow to their creator, that they will not allow Wera to fall and the death of Säpori to be in vain. If the end times should indeed come, then Wera will be the last refuge against them, no matter the cost. Dedoubled in their spirit and purpose, they lead the defenders in holding off further assaults from the armies of the dead.

Soon salvation comes. Kǎlkayer has left the flanks of his forces exposed as he focused his efforts on encircling Wera, and soon smaller militias and bands of hastily-hired mercenaries from further north reclaim towns, free enslaved mortals, and destroy weed-vats and algae-pans. Kǎlkayer’s designs on Wera come to naught as the great trading fleets of the region begin to ship in food to keep the defenders hearty and new weapons and supplies to keep the defense strong.

Slowly the war grinds down into a stalemate. Kǎlkayer continues to devastate the countryside until the whole region becomes known as the Bone Wastes, but cannot take Wera. Wera even maintains some of its status as a trading hub, though many merchants do fear to visit the city. Kǎlkayer also cannot advance northward without the defenders of Wera sallying forth to wreak havoc on the infrastructure the Deep One has built to maintain itself. Yet this same infrastructure prevents armies from making progress across the land; the foul designs of the Deep One have built dams and weirs that trap water across the landscape, then salted them until sea-algae can grow in them. These have left the region parched and infertile, and armies struggle to march across lands where no crops are grown for them to forage. The war continues, driven Kǎlkayer’s inexhaustible drive for power and the indomitable will of Yumöni and Esseḿi to resist.

#world 02547 diegesis

[venimkola]

small led light for aquarium

why does my fish tank turn green so fast Has that happened to you? Your aquarium tank is crystal clear, but after one day, it quickly turns green. Your first move is to change the medium of the water and filter, it gets better, but it goes back to the same way so quickly, you’re going crazy, right? Don’t worry, let’s talk about why first! What Causes Green Water Outbreaks? Excessive Light Algae, though not plants, like plants love light. Your tank provides them with water, nutrients and light through the glass giving them great growing conditions, and some even use artificial lighting so you can reduce the lighting time. Like avoid natural lighting, but adding a small led light for aquarium to control the lighting is an option solution. Nutrient Imbalance The nutrients of algae are mainly nitrates and phosphates. These mainly come from fish waste and uneaten fish food. In addition, tap water may also contain these nutrients. An Internal Filter Aqua Pump may help for that. Poor Maintenance Lack of maintenance and water changes will only allow your tank to accumulate more and more nutrients suitable for algae growth. It can also harm the fish, parents don’t know when to change the water until their children get sick or have an algae bloom. So you need a Submersible aquarium water pump to keep the water better regularly. How to prevent the green water So it’s time to sweat your back and eliminate the algae.fish tank wholesale There are three golden rules to reduce green algae in tanks. Turn the light down In fact, reducing light only prevents algae from overgrowing, not eradicating them. If you have plants in your tank, you should ensure a certain amount of light every day, 8-12 hours is appropriate; If there are no plants, then you don’t need any light at all (except when you’re admiring your fish), and your fish won’t care. So a small led light for aquarium to replace normal sunlight, is much better option. Control nutrients When feeding the fish, you need to make sure that the fish can eat up the food within 2 minutes. Do not overdo it, otherwise too much food will sink into the gaps in the substrate, resulting in the rise of nitrate and phosphate. Add algae eaters Algae-eating fish, snails, and shrimp are good critters to get rid of algae. They work tirelessly to drain algae from the top and walls of your tank, helping you keep your water clean. You can go to the aquarium store, they are ready to buy inside. Conclusions Don’t ignore the algae problem, which not only may cause the bad looking of your Aquarium Equipment, but also may kill your lovely fish. Reduce the lighting, control nutrients or adding algae eaters are good options, and good choice of fish tank equipment will help a lot with that. Enjoy your aquarium day, buddy

[sassysplendens]

...And I thought taking photos of betta fish was hard. 

#fishblr #ember tetra #aquablr #photography #ignore how messy the tank is #I'm letting the algae on the back wall stay

[sp00kworm]

Lake Water Lungs

Otherworldly Anthology

Slasher: Jason Voorhees

Warnings: Gore, Horror. Not really a reader insert. More of a Jason monologue idea.

Summary: They dragged the Crystal Lake Killer from the lake and stuck him with needles. Blood soaked the metal floor. 

This fic is part of the challenge/theme set up by @stay-outta-my-blood-circle, to which various writers have contributed! Check out @august-bleeds-red , @thesightstoshowyou, @thedeathdoctor, @carpenter-synth, @trashy-slashy, @bisexual-horror-fan for more of this challenge!

---

The water was cold. The water was still. A fish pecked at his mask, sucking algae from the creamy coloured surface before whipping its tail and disappearing back into the depths. Jason was still. The water drowned out the noises above. The undead man’s eyes remained closed. There was a thick, heavy crane chain pinning him to the bottom, the links hooked around a boulder. They’d trapped him. The monster twitched, his face still, but his fingers inching back and forth. It was a permanent nightmare, his lungs emptying and refilling with water, over and over. Occasionally he heard a laugh, like a councillor then like the dream entity he had once encountered. A demon. He did not know. His education was limited. He knew that sinners, however, went to hell. Jason remembered the fire, the pain, the burning flesh before he wrangled the man and threw him through into the burning basement. Maybe that was hell? His chest shifted before he panicked again, a finger twitching, and expelled rotten lake water back into his surroundings.

 Suddenly, Jason remembered he didn’t need to breathe, and his body settled back into floating back and forth, attached to the boulder. His fingers went still as he drifted back into a sleep of sorts, semi-conscious but silent as the dead. There was a rush of water overhead before the silence resumed. It was broken once again with several splashes into the water and a rush of bubbles from above. Still, Jason floated, his eyes closed behind his hockey mask, his deep, bruise coloured skin bristling with small air bubbles. They caught against his mask as the water glugged and chugged against his ears. The engine overhead chugged to a halt and the propellor stopped slapping water against his rotting clothes. Pondweed grew from the pockets and shoulders of the giant that slept at the bottom of the lake. Two giant splashes sounded from over his head. Still, he was silent and still. Bubbles rumbled and popped in the water around him. Jason’s eyes remained closed as the sound of respirators bubbling around him. The air caught in the holes of his mask as the divers moved around by his sides, their oxygen tanks glugging as they peered at him.

 Hands reached to touch him. They were gloved, covered in a heavy, thick fabric to protect the skin from the cold or any large fish that decided to come and have a nibble. The hands moved over the heavy fabric of his coat, shifting around, looking for something before they reached up to his shoulders. The hands paused on his shoulders. Jason remained dead and silent. The hands moved to his chin, but they didn’t remove the mask. They paused under his chin, just touching the fibreglass, holding the lip before another set of hands dragged them away and gestured in the water, rapid back and forth movements that sprayed bubbles around. There was silence as the water churned and the divers moved to his back and then down to the chain attaching him to the boulder which held him at the bottom of his watery grave. The divers banged against the chain, sending his corpse floating back and forth in the water. It was then that the chain snapped. A bolt cutter snapped and the rungs came free of the boulder. His body floated in the water before the two divers caught him under the arms and lugged him up towards the surface of the lake. Still, Jason was silent and unmoving, even as they lugged him up onto the stretcher and four people moved him into the large boat, moving back and forth as they talked about just who or what they had found this time.

 A pair of hands settled on his shoulders again, warm and curious as they plucked pond weed from his jacket and analysed the yellow teeth that stuck out of the exposed jaw on his left side.

 Cold metal pressed against his exposed spinal column. Jason’s fingers twitched in the cold air of the room as his muscles stretched and his chest rose with a long inhale of air into his festering lungs. His eyes snapped open, the blind one rolling and blinking before he remembered that he had only one eye that worked anymore. The guardian of Crystal Lake exhaled, his chest rattling as his arms slammed against the metal, his fingers gripping at the steel sporadically before he managed to get the strength in his arms to push himself upwards. Cold air blasted against his face and Jason reached to check that his face was covered. His bruised, cold fingers met with his mask and he then took the time to look around. He was in a freezer. The goliath swung his legs over the steel trolley and stood up before taking one steadying breath and launching himself at the heavy door.

 Jason bounced off the metal the first time and took a moment to assess the door, looking at the sides to discover the heavy metal hinges. They were deadbolted into the wall. He touched the bolt before taking hold of the steel trolley and tearing one of the support pipes from its base, holding the steel tightly before he huffed and began digging at the hinges, chipping away at the wall slowly but surely. Jason slammed his shoulder into the hinges again and grunted as the metal squealed before the door gave way and fell with a slam to the floor, vibrating the walls and echoing down the hallway. He was in a hospital? Jason climbed over the door and stood in the hallway. No. There was no one here. A morgue? His good eye looked around the hallway before he realised something else. The monster looked down at his chest and jumped upon seeing the tubes sticking from his chest. He rotated his shoulders and felt needles dig and scrape into his bones. An experiment. He reached for a tube and grunted as he dragged it free, watching his clotted blood stick to the end of the needle before he threw it to the floor, anger burning in his fingertips as he turned to find something to use to tear his way to freedom.

 Like a caged animal, Jason reached for the pipe he had been using previously, his hands gripping the metal tight enough to make it groan and turned back into the corridor. His exposed bones clicked as he walked over the door and headed towards where a small security light sat. There was an office at the end of the hall, and Jason stood by the glass for a moment watching the security guard with his headphones on through the pane. He opened the door and stood for a moment more, waiting to see if he would get a reaction. He was ignored, the music playing loudly from the headphones. It only took Jason a moment to grapple him by the neck and plunge the pipe up through his ribcage and into the soft organs inside. Blood spurted over his arm, but he didn’t flinch, breathing softly as he dropped the guard in a heap and looked for ⁸something more efficient. A knife. He looked at the man’s belt. Gun. Tazer. No knife. There was a small weapon’s locker and Jason wrenched it open with a great pull of his giant hands to reveal a great long hunting knife. He took hold of the blade and sheath and looked down again before remembering he was in half of a hospital gown and bleeding stinking clots onto the floor through plastic tubing. He took the knife and walked through the blood on the floor, heading towards the other rooms.

Experiments laid behind every door. His mother whispered to him behind his ear, tickling the flesh with her praise as he slammed open each one and tore open pipes and burst tanks. There was no one that could stop him. He huffed as he opened another door, stepping inside to see rattling automated equipment filtering and testing vials upon vials of various samples. His good eye focused on a rack by the door. Tiny cuts of flesh were dissolving in acid. He drew back and bumped into the same warm hands that had pulled pondweed from his shoulders. Jason reared back again and turned to snatch the wrists in his hand, smearing blood along the skin.

 They looked up at him. Jason heaved a great breath and watched them recoil from the putrid air he breathed. He reached again and tugged their wrists up into the air, watching their legs dangle as he swung around again and slammed them over the top of the work bench. The crash didn’t faze him as he grunted and listened to his mother again.

“Good boy, Jason. They want to hurt you. Punish them for it my perfect boy.”

Jason followed them as they slid off the table top and collapsed against the floor, slick with blood and racked with pain. The monster prowled closer and threw a table out of the way, hands grabbing at the person blindly.

 They started screaming. He snapped his hand tight around their ankle as they screamed and hollered. There was no one left to hear. Jason had slaughtered everyone so far. The only person left was this one before him. Jason grunted as he dragged them in before wrapping his hands around their throat, pining them to the metal corrugated floor. Their head slammed against the floor and Jason watched their eyes roll, stunned from the impact, before he dragged them back towards him. Their kicking died as he slammed them against the floor again and watching their eyes roll. He reached for a needle from his shoulder and pulled it free with a grumble before holding it over their eye. His giant hand pinned their head in place before he felt their warm hands on his chest.

 He was reminded of his Mother.

 Jason looked into their eyes before he lowered the needle and smothered their screams. He paused above the pupil. It was too cruel. He snatched his knife from the tight ties of his gown and eyed them again, looking between the needle and the knife.

“I’m sorry.” They wheezed, “We wanted to understand you...”

Jason’s head tilted as he took the knife and placed it against their neck, feeling them swallow before he sliced deep and then punched the needle high up into their brain, silencing them instantly. A quick death. Jason let their head fall against the metal before he stood and looked at the windows.

 An armoured truck moved into the car park. Jason took his knife and turned towards the glass panes in the hall. He took a moment to analyse the panes before he went back into the lab and heaved a machine from the line. Alarms sounded as he snapped it from the electricity and slammed it through the glass, shards splashing over his exposed skin and slicing at it. It didn’t matter. It was all dead anyway. More alarms whirred and Jason ignored it as he climbed through the hole and stood among the bark covered flower beds, looking around before he saw the maximum security signs. Hazards. Danger. Government Testing. Jason ignored them as he headed towards the fencing and back towards the smell of lake water.

#jason voorhees #friday the 13th #friday the 13th freddy vs jason #undead jason #friday the 13th fanchise #jason #camp crystal lake #camp crystal lake killer #camp blood #pamela voorhees #mrs voorhees #jason voorhees x reader #reader insert #otherworldly anthology #writing challenge #my writing #slasher #slashers

[rhodeythebetta]

Water Change Update - 10/4/20

(Yes I'm putting this up 3 days late, sue me)

I broke Beyla's bubble wall... idk how, I just picked it up and it snapped. I bought another one, it'll go in during her next water change

Amazon sword not parking up, not deteriorating- just doing whatever it's doing

Wisteria still trying to take over the tank, growing T A L L. Ignore the bottoms, it knows what it's doing m'kay?

Anubias frazeri just vibin, it looks happyish

Algae almost gone, just nasty around the bottom of the glass now and occasional streamers from the sword. Not too terrible anymore

Beyla looking fabulous as always

If only I could prove it with decent pics :/

Amazing how when you cut some stress from your life you feel better and do better with your tanks. This tank is still and will always be a work in progress, I'll probably never be a kickass aquascaper and I'm cool with that. As long as my babies are happy, I'm happy

#fishblr #betta #bettablr

[hiddendreamer67]

Tiny Mer!Sanders Angst Pt. 12

Part 12 to a story based on @secretglittersauce‘s tiny mer!sides angst prompt. Infinitesimal Fins is BACK, baby!!! And Virgil’s depressed, but what else is new? :D

October prompt #13: Shake

Potentially triggering content: depressive/suicidal thoughts

Check my reblog for links to the previous parts. I also have a writing blog now! @hiddendreamerwriting

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Virgil’s gaze snapped up, hearing the sound of the front door opening. Remy was back.

No, the human was back. The one keeping him captive and separated from his brothers. However, despite this, Virgil didn’t have the energy to even continue actively hating on the human. 

Who cared if he was judged for it? It didn’t matter. None of this mattered. Virgil was just going to die one day trapped away in this cage like some sort of defenseless animal- possibly one day soon, based on how his stomach kept growling at him. 

Every few days his primal instincts caved, eating a piece or two of the floating tidbits that could hardly be considered ‘food’. They were vile, but nutritious. Virgil was forced to live another day. Today was just another one of those days.

Remy set his bag down, and Virgil watched the way his eyes scanned over Virgil’s enclosure. Inspecting the way Virgil sat in the same position as always, dejectedly slumped against the back glass wall in the east right corner. Sulking. Brooding. His tail twitching restlessly every so often, but Virgil had grown accustomed to ignoring his fight or flight reflexes. There was nowhere to run and nobody to fight. Instead Virgil forced himself to grow idle, accustomed to his new life of loneliness that was all his fault.

Sometimes Virgil wondered if he was the last one left. He had never heard word of any of his brothers when they left the pet shop for good- perhaps they hadn’t ended up with such fortunate owners. The idea of Virgil being the one to get lucky would be a sick twist of fate, wouldn’t it? Virgil got them into this mess, and now Virgil would be the only one to survive it. 

Virgil huffed, pointedly avoiding Remy’s gaze as the scrapping of the desk chair echoed in his ears. He was meant to be grateful, he supposed. If not for this human, Virgil would have been sold off as baracuda chow. And yet Virgil kept wondering if perhaps that would’ve been a better fate for him- he was of no use to anyone. Virgil had only ever been a screw up his whole life, so why not just be done with him? It was the circle of life. Being eaten by a bigger fish would at least have given Virgil a purpose that wasn’t merely being a pathetic anchor holding his brothers back.

And yet….. And yet. Virgil glanced up at the few remaining pellets of flaky fish food floating idly at the top of the water. Only three pieces, when earlier in the day there had been seven. It seemed that despite himself, Virgil couldn’t seem to let go. 

He wanted to live, to swim with his brothers through the reefs and have Patton hold him close and exchange quips with Roman and for Logan to teach him all the best ways to defend each other. Virgil missed ducking through the seaweed forests and tending the algae even if it had a habit of obnoxiously growing all over the cave. Indeed, the young mer was so selfishly invested in the idea of normalcy that he was still terrified of leaving this life behind, even when Virgil knew he’d never have any sort of happiness like that again.

“Glad you’re eating again, gurl.” Remy commented, and Virgil felt the currents shift around him as that plastic net came and went, scooping out the soggy flakes to be replaced in the morning. Perhaps sooner, if Remy was going to try to make him eat twice in one day. Virgil doubted he’d give the human the satisfaction. 

Usually, this would be when Remy took his leave. He’d make some sort of snarky comment to tease Virgil, maybe tap on the glass a bit to get a reaction and ensure Virgil wasn’t truly a living corpse, and then go do whatever the hell it was he did when the loud music blasted through the walls and made Virgil’s head spin.

It seemed today was not set out to be a usual day.

“I talked about you at work today.” Remy said casually, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. It was impossible to see the human’s eyes with the black sunglasses he always wore, but Virgil could tell Remy was staring him down. “Thomas came in.”

Thomas? Virgil didn’t know who that was, or why he would care. One human was already far too many in his opinion. 

“Turns out he and his little fish bud have been getting along swimmingly.” Remy paused, lowering his shades. “Pun intended.”

Little fish bud? Wait… did that mean… was Thomas one of the humans who took his brothers away? Virgil was suddenly much more enraptured in this conversation, and he cursed his poor memory for not knowing which brother this might be. Patton? Logan? Roman?

“I hear you’ve been holding out on me.” Remy tsked. “Tommy’s mer talks.”

What? Virgil frowned, his eyebrows furrowing. How was that possible? And why would they do that? Humans couldn’t be trusted. But then again… wouldn’t his brothers know better than he? But what if Remy was just lying? 

Remy leaned closer, removing his glasses entirely to inspect Virgil in a way that made the mer truly feel like he was back on display at the pet shop.

“You can understand me, can’t you?” Remy murmured. “Boi I might be trippin’ but if you can talk, you better start speaking up about why you’re so cranky all the time.”

Virgil froze, trying to make no indication either way, not wanting to do the wrong thing and screw up everything somehow. Should he speak? But Virgil didn’t even know how, the human’s words were so sharp and light whilst Virgil was used to the deeper rumblings of the sea.

Virgil watched warily as Remy’s hands came up on either side of the tank. He yelped, thrown into motion as Remy shook the container. Not enough to hurt, but enough to be a nuisance, throwing Virgil out of his familiar corner.

“Well?” Remy pressed, pausing his movements and letting the whirlpool still, swirling Virgil around in a circle. “Go on then, say something.” 

Virgil grimaced, glaring down his annoying human who couldn’t seem to understand that the mer just wanted to be left alone. He certainly wasn’t going to try to appease Remy now. 

“I’m not going to give you the satisfaction.” Virgil spat in his native mer tongue. He couldn’t, even if he wanted to; Virgil wouldn’t even know where to start. Remy quirked an eyebrow, watching Virgil’s lips move. 

“Gotta speak up if you want me to hear you.” Remy commented. “Can’t hear you underwater, lil’ beta.”

Virgil’s nose twitched irritably at the nickname, but he didn’t bother replying this time. Instead he stuck out his tongue, shaming Remy in true juvenile fashion. For a moment Virgil felt a familiar pang of nostalgia, remembering the way Roman would let out that silly noise of offense whenever Virgil did the same to him. 

But Roman wasn’t here.

“...fine then.” Remy sighed dramatically, releasing his hold on the tank. “Guess you don’t have anything important to say, anyway.”

Oh, Virgil had plenty of important things to say. He wanted to screech at Remy for hours, scolding him for never saving his brothers when they couldn’t save themselves. Virgil wanted to yell at all of humanity, shaming them for exploiting Virgil’s weakness to get their grimy paws on everyone else. 

But most of all, Virgil wanted to shake his fist at the world, cursing life for its cruelty and assuring the universe that Virgil wasn’t going to submit so easily.

And maybe… Virgil moved his lips again, attempting to replicate the way Remy so easily pushed air from his lungs. He glanced up at the surface of the water, the light shining down for once not feeling so oppressing. Was this his chance? Some sort of sign from above, showing Virgil the way out of this mess?

There was no guarantee that Remy would listen. Virgil would probably swim out of this feeling crushed and alone, Remy forcing him to talk and taunting him once he knew why Virgil hated this place. But at this point, Virgil was running low on options.

Virgil would practice. If he couldn’t do it, then fine. But he was tired of not having a say in his own fate.

#tiny!mers #infinitesimal!fins #infinitesimal fins #infinitesimal!sides #infinitesimal sides #g/t #gt #giant/tiny #mer!virgil #human!remy #part 12 #IT'S BACK #and shhhh we'll get to logan eventually #ignore the cat fodder #depressive thoughts #suicidal thoughts #kinda #i mean inevitably virgil's like wait shit nvm #y'know i swear this fic ends happily #for most involved

[nivedas]

Snails in Your Aquarium

Aquatic Snails. Pests or pets? Snails have many advantages and disadvantages that most people ignore, thinking that snails are gross and do not make good pets. Well, this is definitely not true. Snails can be awesome little creatures, when you consider their good qualities. Let us dive deep into the world of snails.

Maybe you want a nice addition to your aquarium? Snails can clean your tank. By this, I do not mean that you can skip maintenance, but instead that snails can help you with it. They will eat fallen food from the tank floor that your fish missed, and in the case of some species, might eat the algae from the aquarium walls and decorations.

Snails reproduce rapidly, especially pest snails. I have a snail infestation in my aquarium, though it is not a problem because the waste is at a minimum. Snails usually reproduce uncontrollably if there is an abundant food source. If you have live plants, there is always a risk of getting snails!

Snails can make great pets. Are you someone that really wants a pet, but you do not think you have the time to do maintenance? Snails might be for you! Snails are really low energy pets, for most snails like Mystery and Nerite snails, a five gallon aquarium is big enough. Just throw in a bit of fish food every couple of days and perform water changes every month, and you are good to go!

Now what do you think about snails? Are they pests or pets? Well, that is up to you, but hopefully you have learned more about there amazing creatures! Keep in mind, these requirements are for aquatic snails, not land snails. Also, remember to follow my blog to stay updated when I post! (There will be a special vlog for tomorrow, Halloween!)

#snails #pets #aquarium #fishtank #hobby #cute #pest #almost halloween

[tapwaterfilters]

Tank cleaning is very necessary

Most of us focus primarily on the purification of the water tank cleaning that we drink or use for cooking purpose. But we rarely pay attention on the cleaning of water tank cleaning where water is stored. Every day we use the water tank cleaning for brushing and bathing, for cleaning and moping, for washing clothes and in other household chores. With the passage of time, sediments, scale and algae get deposited on the walls, ceiling and floor of the water tank cleaning. This deposition contaminate the water and makes it unfit for use. With time algae and bacteria grow and breed in this water, infect it and could make us fall sick eventually. It simply means that our ignorance may take a toll on the health of our family.

Tank cleaning is very necessary and should be done at least once in a year. But it also depend on the quality of water supplied into homes. If the water is very hard and high in TDS, then sedimentation will happen more often. In such cases more than one annual water tank cleaning is required.

The basic steps involved in water tank cleaning are:

Step 1: The area surrounding the tank and top of the tank is cleaned

Step 2: Tools used in tank cleaning process are disinfected

Step water filter housing 3: Water and sludge is drained out from the tank using a sludge pump

Step 4: Manual scrubbing of the tank is done to remove the dirt, sediments, fungus & stains

Step 5: Walls, ceiling and floor of the tank is washed using a high pressure jet

Step 6: Vacuum cleaning is done to ensure that all the dirt is sucked out

Step 7: Vacuumed tank is disinfected with anti-bacterial spray or liquid bleach

Step 8: Tank is filled with water that is made to run through the taps to disinfect the water pipes

Step 9: Water tank cleaning from the tank is drained through the taps and tank is left empty for drying

Step 10: Tank is clean and ready to be filled with water for domestic use

This whole process probably take around 4-6 hours but it’s worth doing for the health of your family and loved ones.

This whole process probably take around 4-6 hours but it’s worth doing for the health of your family and loved ones.

As a caution it is suggested not to perform water tank cleaning yourself or without the supervision of any professional, since it involve use of disinfectants and specialized tools.

So if it has been ages since you cleaned your water tank cleaning and also believe that the health of your family is your first priority, book a water tank cleaning appointment with Mr Right.

[the-heroic-changeling]

Brendan: A Scene in Space

Hey it’s that rare moment where I’m posting one of my original pieces of fiction for the world to see. I wrote it just to practice, with the rules that it could not be more than a 1000 words, and had to be written in a day with minimum editing. No polish no drafts, just a quick little story.

As a synopsis, this is a small scene in the routine of a spaceship as it travels through space. It’s that simple. Tagging @neshtasplace @akirakan @majingojira @jogress @muceybbds @ayellowbirds @filipfatalattractionrblog @renaroo if you or anyone else who might be interested in this written equivalent of an artist’s sketch. So enjoy. 

……………

All that could be seen through the camera was an inky blackness, only broken up with grains of light. Perhaps in the distance there were shadowed boulders hurtling through the gloom, but to Brendan’s camera nothing remotely drew close enough to be identified. It was just an emptiness, and Brendan was the world and all that existed. 

Brendan was roughly thirty meters long, and their general shape was curved and bulbous like a teardrop. Their hull was smooth, with a number of small flaps extending from them. Some were rectangular panels, drawing reserve power from the radiance of the nearby star behind them. Others were mirrors, reflecting that limited light through glass windows in their hull. And others were nozzles, occasionally spewing bursts of compressed air, to push the ship through space.

Beneath the narrowest reaches of the teardrop’s hull was a small booster, currently silent. The rocket was not active, in this frictionless space Brendan’s momentum was already constant, there was no need for more speed. It was to be saved for emergencies, the nuclear engine of Brendan was unnecessary to keep their insides functioning and stable, the solar panels gained enough power.

As they drifted through space, Brendan monitored their journey through a multitude of cameras, six outside their hull, eight on their interior. Their cargo and passengers were incredibly heavy, Brendan’s creators had needed to use massive rocket boosters and fuel tanks to exit the atmosphere. But now that their momentum was achieved and they were in a state of zero gravity, Brendan no longer needed to consider their weight. And they would not need to for a few more millennia. 

Brendan suddenly identified an issue on their sensors, algae had been building up on one of their net arms, and had just passed the threshold to clean. They immediately shuffled their arms around on their tracks, maneuvering a scrubber arm towards the offending limb.

Most of Brendan’s insides was a large pond of water, lit up by reflected sunlight and artificial lighting in an imitation of a day-night cycle. The pond was full of algae, both phytoplankton and more multicellular flora. Some species fed off the heat from the nuclear engine, rather than depending on the limited light. Swimming within the algae clumps was more animalistic plankton, along with three species of tardigrades. The tardigrades were the apex predators of the pond, feeding on both plankton that were animalistic and more plantlike. They had eight limbs ended in claws, simple eyes, a brain with multiple lobes, and one species was a whole millimeter long. They squirmed through the pond, their mouths shooting out to suck in more of their food. There were a total of twenty species in the twenty-by-five meter pool, a miniature ecosystem hurtling through the void. 

Brendan slid the scrubber arm along the track, before lowering the limb down until it was nearly flat against their inner wall. They then pressed it to the coated arm, and began to rub with their rough appendage, scraping off bits and pieces of flora. The algae drifted loose as they cleaned one side of the arm, before sliding their arms around again to approach from a different angle. 

Some of their arms had pincers, others had thinly braided nets, some just had cameras, Brendan had a large amount of tools to take care of their cargo. They were programmed to clean them long before the algae built-up enough to possibly limit movement on the tracks, not that they could think. They simply had a protocol that if algae built up to a certain degree on any of their limbs, that limb would require immediate scrubbing, permitting no greater priorities at the time.

As algae was dislodged and sent drifting through the pond, the flora brushed against a few tardigrades. They began to kick and maneuver through the water, scooping up the algae with their strange almost pulsating mouths. More animalistic plankton fed on the algae as well, only to be engulfed just the same by the larger animals.

Brendan meanwhile had slid the scrubber arm to face another part of the offending limb. They resumed scrubbing the offending appendage with renewed effort, cleaning off this side as well. Chunks of fibrous debris brushed off once more, as the tardigrades and other animals and plankton swarmed after them to feed. Brendan ignored them, while their safety was a high priority, they were unlikely to interfere with this task so there was no reason to focus on them.

While Brendan cleaned their limbs, one of its other net arms swung and scooped up a large piece of algae, about three centimeters long. Some tardigrades and plankton were take along with the motion, even as the arm tightened, sealing them inside. Brendan brought the arm around on its track, before flushing the net’s sample of pond-water into an airlock of sorts. 

The scrubber slid around to clean the arm again, while Brendan multitasked, taking the sample for a routine study. Brendan could survey the pond itself, but periodically they would take samples for more in-depth study. Radiation levels were acceptable, the water would soon need more filtering though, given the large amount of excrement currently in the pond. The animals and plants seemed within the perimeters for good health, and it looked like one of the tardigrades was about ready to lay her eggs,

Brendan reconnected the sample to the lock, and expelled it back into the pond, the living things relatively none the worse for wear. At the same time the net arm was clean, and the scrubber had pulled away. And no asteroids or gravity wells were within a close enough distance to endanger Brendan and their cargo. Everything was currently stable. 

So the space probe continued to traverse the void towards their destination. It would take millennia more until Brendan reached Hoddmímis, but they couldn’t comprehend that length of time, only compute it. And it was irrelevant besides power rationing. 

#science fiction #short story #my art #tardigrades #robots #space travel

[raisingsupergirl]

You Don't Know What You Don't Know

In today's information age, everyone's an expert. Broken dishwasher? Just YouTube it. Wondering who that actor is? IMDB it. Want a DIY chicken coop? Google it. Trying to find an unending stream of #fakenews and fear mongering? Log into Facebook. The problem is, well… we don't always know what the actual problem is. We see the symptoms. We know what we want—the end result—but we're not always sure how to get there. And a quick Google search is all we have the patience for before we jump to conclusions and then blame someone or something else for our failure. Take my recent plunge into fishkeeping, for example.

I've always been an animal lover. I think it's innate in all of us, but not everyone has the right disposition or upbringing to appreciate animal/plant husbandry. As for me, I grew up in the Missouri wilderness surrounded by ponds, cliffs, streams, fields, and forests. Sure, I spent my fair share of time on the Super Nintendo System, but being in the great outdoors was engrained in me from a young age. And more than that, I learned to appreciate the other things out there. I kept just about every animal you could imagine at one time or another (dogs, cats, birds, fish, lizards, frogs, newts, rodents of all varieties, snakes, chickens, geese, goats, a squirrel, a ferret, a raccoon, and even a short-tailed opossum, off the top of my head), and though I was pretty irresponsible with most of them (ignoring for a second that I should have just left them where I found them in nature), I loved nurturing them, and I kept most of them alive. So when my city-girl daughter said she wanted a fish for her fourth birthday, a little piece of my past reignited, and I… may have gone a little overboard.

First, my mom still had the 35-gallon aquarium she bought me for my birthday a couple of decades ago. Back then I just winged it. I didn't have Google. I didn't come from a long line of aquarists. I just filled the thing up with well water, a cheap bag of gravel, a log I found floating in my pond, and the cheapest fish I could find at my local Walmart (yes, Walmart sold fish back then). Of course the tank was full of algae and dead fish in no time, but I kept at it, and eventually I had a few fish that didn't eat each other, but ultimately it wasn't what I knew it could be, so I set the fish "free" in my pond and put a snake in the tank instead.

I used the tank again in college with similar results, only this time I had a filter, did occasional water changes, and had just a few friendly fish, so it was much more successful, though still very "low tech," as they say in the hobby. Since then, I've matured (please hold all sarcasm until the end), and I've learned the value of researching something before attempting it. The change started in physical therapy school when I spent countless hours dissecting and writing scientific papers. It was the literal worst, but it taught me so much about the world. Rather, it taught me how to learn about any particular aspect of the world. You see, in these classes, we weren't allowed to just read the abstract and regurgitate the experimenters' assumptions. We had to read every line, go back and read every line of the sources they cited, and then, once we understood every word, we could start forming our own opinions on the subject. And believe it or not, I rarely found a paper that wasn't skewed toward the writer's desired result in some small way.

So now we get to the heart of things—you don't know what you don't know until you know it. And you won't know it unless you put in the time. We're living in an age of instant gratification. Because there's so much information out there, we only have time to skim. Otherwise we wouldn't have any time to actually live. I recently ran across an inspiration quote by science fiction author Robert Heinlein's character, Lazarus Long:

"A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects."

Sure. Easy for Lazarus to say. As his name suggests, he was over 200 years old and counting at the time of his above quotation (and that's to say nothing of Heinlein's, uh, colorful political and philosophical views). But even still, his words are a nice sentiment, and they resonate with our current zeitgeist. We all want to be experts at everything, but we just don't have the time to do it. So we become Jacks-of-all-trades, and masters of none. And thus, with the dehumanizing help of social media, we get into a lot of stupid fights.

But I digress. Back to my aquarium example. Giving in to my excitement and desire for my daughter to experience thy "joys" of fishkeeping, I reverted to the impulsiveness of my youth. And of the twelve fish I bought those first few months, I killed half of them. Why? Because I didn't take the time to learn about taking a new tank through the nitrogen cycle. I knew nothing of ammonium, nitrite, or nitrate. I didn't know how to promote bacterial colonies in the filter media. And when I decided to add a few live plants to the mix, I didn't know the difference between submersed and submerged, or that PetCo didn't care about selling you "aquatic" plants that would die 100% of the time if completely under water. And that's saying nothing about water pH, alkalinity, fertilizers (NPK, micronutrients, root tabs versus liquid fertilizers, etc), carbon (CO2) availability, substrate differences, etc., etc. I just thought, "these are pretty" with dozens of plants and fish from completely different, delicately balanced ecosystems around the world, and then expected them to flourish when crammed together in the petri dish that was my, er, my daughter's aquarium.

I'll be the first to say that I suck at chemistry. It was the only "C" I received in college. Too many dry facts and things I couldn't visualize. Too much like math. But over the past few months, I've forced myself to dig into the periodic table and the chemical processes of dozens of elements and compounds in order to BEGIN understanding the aquatic world. I'm still so far away from having a solid grasp on the process, but at least I now know what I don't know. And that's a start. And it's a valuable reminder of the ignorance of mankind.

As a physical therapist, it often baffles me when my highly intelligent friends and family don't understand their own bodies. These people are experts in their fields. They're fluent in areas that I'll never even begin to understand. And yet, they can't figure out the simplest causes of their own various aches and pains. And thus, they become easy prey for fad diets, snake oils, and cure-alls. In health and fitness, especially, our connected, opinion-fueled society is playing the willing victim. Like politics and philosophy, we all know there are problems, and we see "experts" offering their solutions constantly, and social media algorithms are feeding into this problem by inundating our news feeds with like-minded (no matter how wrong) individuals. We think, "Hey, everything I see reinforces my ideas, so the must be right!" But really, we're still living in the same high-walled isolation we've always lived in. We just have weapons that can shoot farther now.

So remember, if you haven't spent hundreds of hours researching and forming your opinion, you're probably not right. Maybe you have an idea. It may even be a good idea. But life is complex. It spans millennia of philosophers, scientists, and soldiers. Even if WebMD says you have terminal cancer, you should still probably see an actual MD before you throw in the towel. Because, contrary to Lazarus Long's inspiring sentiment, humanity can still find value in specialization. Life is rich and deep, so take the time to dig.

#fish tank #fish keeping #aquarium #aquarist #plantedtank #planted aquarium #chemistry #diversity #education #informed opinion #research #social media #ignorance #momblr #dadblr #mumblr #physical therapy #specialization #robert heinlein

[insomniac-dot-ink]

Whales Aren’t Real, Ch1

Genre: sci-fi, wlw, series

Words: 3k

Summary: A chosen Earth Restitution Team goes diving into the ocean to look for what remains of ocean life

The young RT member finds one of the few humans who adapted to the destruction of the planet, she asks her if whales are real or not.

Lesbian soft-apocalyptica.

Support the work:

Ko-Fi ⭐Patreon ⭐ WordPress 

Chapters: One, Two

Chapter 1: Breech

Life wants to live. That’s a basic tenant of nature, that it strives and reaches and wants.

That is what hunger is, and sex, and frogs with poison in their skin and bugs that look like twigs, birds with hollow bones and primates with fingertips. It is fish growing wings and the first inklings of life that swam to light.

The want that carves out canyons into forests and trenches into coral reefs. That want that turns empty plains into rumbling gardens and the whole dang earth into something… different.

It’s something Remy has to put her faith in, blindly, religiously, fanatically. Life wanted to live and that meant something.

-------

The Wb-77 glides effortlessly across the dark blue waters, it’s pointed triangle wings cutting through the gentle ocean breeze and buoying them a couple feet above the ocean’s surface. The sky is almost as blue as the waters down below it and the whole world is one large expanse.

It’s so large it feels like she could open her arms and fall into it forever.

Remy takes a deep breathe, it tastes sticky with salt and sunshine, and she grins.

“Woooo!” She stretches her arms up to the sky and whoops, tossing her head back and laughing into the salty air. “Can you feel that Kel?” She calls out above the dim hum of the Sunflower Motor. “That’s the energy of good luck.”

The pilot glances over his shoulder at her, “keep focused Rem.” He says in a flat tone, sunken eyes focusing on the stretch of distance ahead of them. “Mission in ten.”

She nods with gusto and reaches inside her own small cockpit and extracts a large tub of dark jelly, she grabs a globby handful and starts applying the adhesive to her bare skin and swim bottoms.

“I’m just saying, I’ve got a good feeling about this Kel,” she says brightly, “today is the day.”

“Please,” his tone sags around the edges, burdened by its own weariness. “Just keep your camera on the rocks Remy. It’s the RT, not a travel holiday.” Remy could have stuck her tongue out at him, but she decides to tug on the end of her small tight ponytail instead, “Don’t tell me you’re not feeling it.”

She slathers another handful of goop onto her leg and pats it down generously.

Kel sighs, “whatever it is, I’m not sure I want to feel it Rem. You ever hear of ocean madness?” Her eyes glimmer, “have you ever heard of wet-blanket syndrome?” “Haha,” he turns the plane gently toward a pile of rocks in the distance. A promising location for new crustacean life. “I’m serious!” She crows over the wind, “They’re singing for us right now, I know it.” “Maybe in your head, SCO-y.” SCO-y was the name for all new recruits to the Restitution Team, Single-celled Organisms, newbies, guppies, easily dismissed. Remy ignores the name.

“Says the man with one burst eardrum,” she puts her hands on her hips as she finishes applying the protection jelly all along her shoulders. “I hear it! No one else is listening.” “It just isn’t exactly top of the list yet Rem,” he says, this time a little more warmly, they were almost reaching the final destination. “Besides,” he says as they slow to a crawl and a couple dozen seagulls caw overhead, “Whales aren’t real.” Remy rolls her eyes, “you’ll see.” She turns toward the edge of the Wb-77’s wing, secures her helmet, mouthpiece, and flippers, and waits dutifully for the jelly to finish drying on her skin.

She gives Kel the thumbs and dives feet first into the dark waters below.

-------------------

Remy’s camera flashes in the dark, lighting up blank, faceless dark rocks and more edged crevices. She spies the signs of small tiny minnows off to her right, but nothing substantial.

Was it too much to ask for one mollusk? A tiny hermit crab, a nice oyster.

She swims around in circles and takes another flashing image of nearby plant growth, she couldn’t name it but it resembled kelp with long single green tendrils reaching up. That had to be good sign, she takes a quick series of photos from all angles.

The Council would dismiss anything that wasn’t thorough and well documented.

Finally, she takes a deep breath and gently parts the plant, examining the underside of the leaves and where it’s roots met the sand.

She curses in her had as she sees no new macro life anywhere near the vicinity. Again.

Remy is sighing and can feel Kel’s smug aura wafting toward her from above, of course there wasn’t anything new. She could also feel that he was definitely napping by now.

She’s inspecting what felt like her fiftieth blank dark rock with a bit of algae growing on it, everything had algae, soft mossy stuff that layered the rocks. Too bad nothing of note was eating it right now.

Remy frowns deeply, her mind working like a ticking clock. Soooo, Kel was definitely napping by now. And signs of algae usually meant ancient runoff was still affecting the area from nearby.

Remy has a bright feeling in her gut, it was still going to be a special day. It had to be.

She turns her body away from her assigned rock enclave and toward the sun, she starts swimming. The protective gel was meant to coat her body and keep it at room-temperature, as well as absorb any toxins in the water so it didn’t leach into her skin.

It also meant that with two hours left of air in her tank that she could at least dive a little deeper.

Remy starts swimming.

Her flashlight reflects off of nothing for a long, long time. She only stops once to go top-side and make sure she can still the Wb-77 in the distance. There are several streaks of white birds over head.

Her eyes follow them and she sets her mouth, “you must be going somewhere as well.” She focuses on the seagulls diligently and starts crawling in their direction. Her muscles complain at her and her chest aches slightly after 40 minutes of swimming.

Maybe this was only kinda a good idea after all.

Then she sees something sticking out of the water, flat and grey and striking. Several seagulls land on it and peck the top.

“Yes!” She pounds the air and secures her air tank one last time, diving further into the water. This is what she was waiting for.

Her camera flashes off something immediately, something large and looming.

“In-it,” she mumbles through her mouth piece excitedly and starts paddling.

It is large and had sharp crumbling edges, dark sides that are covered in more patchy algae, it appeared to be perfectly square and with sturdy almost-intact walls. Somehow, it managed to stay upright after all this time, reaching and carving its way to the ocean surface.

A deadciv building.

Remy can’t help it, she makes a sharp noise that might be described as a ‘squeal,’ she starts flashing pictures of the battered windows and tiny fish swimming around it’s ceilings.

A window to a skyscraper of ghosts.

Remy starts to swim back and forth, pressing her gel-covered fingers over the rough surface and looking for signs of life among the wreckage. It wasn’t entirely what she was looking for, but it was new.

She knew people studied the deadcivs, wrote papers on how they failed and why they made this whole mess to begin with. But she can’t help but feel a wave of affection for them as she finds these towering immense artifacts.

They really did exist down here, made things, lived on the surface.

She finds the tallest building she can and starts following it down, down, down, there must be something down there, sidewalks or mailboxes or whatever else they used to make this whole thing work.

She runs her hands down the buildings spine and sinks as far as she can, the light drains from the water around her- all except her brilliant flashlight glowing up ahead. She listens, straining her ears for any slow movements or the appearance big ugly eyes in the dark.

She would take anything at this point, any sign.

That’s when her oxygen tank starts beeping at her.

“Gdang’it.” She hadn’t been paying attention, Remy quickly turns back toward the top.

Luckily, she can still make out the light up above and she starts following the building up up up, the thing is as tall as a mountain.

Beep beep beep.

‘I know, I know’ she thinks to herself.

Beep, beep, beep.

She can feel her lungs start to burn as the tank goes into ‘oxygen saving mode’ and starts providing at half capacity. She paddles harder with her flippers.

Beep beep

She curses in her head and her vision starts to go dizzy, the light above flashes and she pushes and forces herself toward it. She couldn’t afford to pass out now.

Her lungs are a forest fire, she claws at the water with all her might and kicks until her ankles go numb. Her senses blitz in different directions as she pushes toward the surface with all her might.

She comes crashing up through the surf, coughing and scrambling for breath.

Her muscles are screaming at her and she feebly manages pull herself onto the of crumbling building roof, rolling over and lying there in the pale flashing sunlight.

“Ah, fuck,” she curses at her oxygen tank and starts taking deep, salt-tinged breathes. It was going to be a hell of thing getting back now. She closes her eyes and lets her body cool, one deep gulping breath at a time.

She’s still gasping when she hears it, a splash of water just off to her left. Remy barely has a moment to respond when her eyes fly open, they land on a figure.

A figure standing on the top of the building next to hers, staring at her.

Oh.

Remy’s eyes go wide and her mouth falls open a little bit.

She wasn’t alone here.

----------------

Remy had heard people talk about those who stayed on the surface, the ones who refused the evacuation sirens and hid from the Exodus crews. Proper Enclaves called them ‘adapted by necessity’ and the improper Enclaves called them ‘less than human.’ In more senses than one.

Remy doesn’t think of those Enclaves as she’s lying there, soaked and covered in protection jelly as she takes in a green-tinged stranger.

“Oh.” It comes out as a simple pale gasp.

It was a girl.

She was wearing something like a bright orange nylon swimsuit, old and ragged looking with one yellow stripe across the chest.

She has a winding beaded necklace around her throat and matching beads around her wrists. Her thick brown hair is pulled back into a low ponytail that trails all the way down her spine. Her skin is tinted slightly green and covered in flecks of dark freckles, if freckle is the right word for them- small dots that seem to catch the light itself.

Remy could also make out her fan-shaped ears and unnaturally large eyes, eyes taking up more of her face than Remy thought possible. She had dark pupils that could eat up a night sky and full frowning lips.

Her webbed sharp hands hold something long and sharp.

Remy swallows dryly and spits out the first thing that comes to mind, “are you a mermaid?” The girl holds up the spear a little higher and narrows her large dark eyes, “Are you an idiot bird landed here?” Remy scrambles to sit back up and inch away from the pointed spear tip, she puts her hands up, “Woah, woah. No need for sharp objects. I come in peace.” She quotes some of her favorite old media, the girl seems unimpressed.

She shakes her thick hair and her lips curl back, “I’m sure.” “Wait, wait,” Remy tries to stall the girl before this turns from an expedition into her untimely funeral. The girl contemplates her for a long second, “What?” She finally asks in a hoarse, flat manner.

Remy tilts her head to the side, “I thought planet-siders couldn’t speak Common.” The girl makes an impressive eye roll, “well we usually try not to talk to Deserters to begin with.” Remy frowns at those words, she frowns at all of her, “that’s… too bad?”

The girl sniffs loudly and doesn’t answer that. “What are you doing her?”

Remy looks her up and down, “I’m looking for something. Are you... also looking for something here?” She grasps for conversation.

She raises her eyebrows, “I’m hunting,” she raises her spear, “and I would move along if I were you, this is claimed fishing grounds.” “Oh!” Remy says sharply, “no, I’m not trying to take your fish. I’m an RTM!”

The girl seems uninspired and Remy wilts a little bit, “A Restitution Team Member?” She clarifies weakly, “we’re here to check on the planet? And like, help it.” She gives a weak smile, trying to make clear she was one of the good guys.

The girl’s mouth is still snarling, “Go probe your gadgets elsewhere, you’re going to scare off all the fish with your noisy flopping around anyway.”

Remy puts her hands on her hips, “I’m gathering data, you know, trying to find important recovery strategies.” She blows a piece of stray hair out of her face.

“Catch me swooning,” she waves a hand airly in front of her, “now, don’t actually make me use this.” She shakes her spear in the air, “you seem like such a nice girl.” “Really?” She perks up, “because I’ve been meaning to talk with one of you for awhile, you know, since I learned you can speak common and-”

“Alright. I change my mind,” she gestures with her thumb downward, “nicely annoying.” Remy cups her hands around her mouth, “Booo.” “Get out of here.” She tries to shoo her and Remy wants to make a face back. They have a very long stare-off for a second.

Remy is the one that decides this isn’t going to be worth it, “fine, fine,” she deflates, “But!” She sticks a finger in the air, “I do have one questions and I won’t leave until you answer it.” The girl shifts from foot to foot, thinking, “what?”

Remy leans forward and her eyes go wide, “Do you know where the whales?” The girl lifts her eyebrows and shifts from foot to foot, “the what?” “You know,” Remy practically vibrates, bouncing up and down in place, “giant sea mammals! They are enormous, and have brush-teeth, and tiny eyes, and they breathe air! And some sing. You’d know them if you saw them.” She gives Remy a funny look, “do they also breathe fire and fly around capturing princesses?” “Whales,” she says slowly, “and why would they do that? They’re nice.” “I didn’t mean, that’s not the, ugh,” the girl struggles with something. “I don’t know any whales. Please, go take your sea madness elsewhere.” “Oh! Kel was just mentioning that too,” she grins and eyes the girl one last time, “what’s your name?” She backs up, she glances at something and then back toward Remy, “if I tell you my name will you go? I will really do have shit to do here.” “Yes!” Remy doesn’t mention the fact she had run out of oxygen. It might be awhile before she can actually leave. But the stranger didn’t need to know that.

The girl gives a slow smile, “Empress Feck steck. Leader of the free world.” Remy pauses for a second, thinks, and then gives a small bow, “well, Empress Fish sticks-” “Wait.” The girl seems to be rethinking her choices. “I’m Laramie Jones, but you can call me Remy. At your service.” She winks, “your Stickyness.” The girl groans, “Callisto. Like the constellation.” “The what?”

She just shakes her head and opens her mouth, “She’s the bear one.” Remy stands up straight, “the bear stars. I can see that.” She rolls her eyes, “And Remy. Like the very very odd Deserter looking for Welshmen or whatever.” “Whales.” Their eyes meet and they contemplate each other for a long moment.

“Okay. Where are whales supposed to be?” “Oh!” Remy opens her mouth to give coordinates, but instead the deep thrum of an engine fills the air, choppy and cutting through the space. Remy looks up and she sees the outline of the Wb-77 on the horizon.

“Ah, that’s mine,” She says quickly, “you should meet Kels, he can tell you-” A loud splash interrupts her and when Remy looks back to the Planetsider, the girl, Callisto, is gone. Remy gives a deep sigh and feels a weight of disappointment in her gut.

“Listen for singing!” She calls after her, “You’ll know it when you hear it.” She’s certain the girl doesn’t hear her as she must dive deeper and deeper into the water.

Remy has a sudden urge to dive in after he, ask her if Planetsider’s really did have gills, ask her how far down they could swim, and what exactly she has seen in these dark murky waters. If it was monsters or skeletons or just empty space.

One of those things had to be large creatures the size of houses, with small eyes and brush-like teeth, and voices that sometimes sing. Remy was sure of it, she had to be.

Chapter two =======>

#wlw #sci fi #science fiction #sapphic #writers on tumblr #original story #original writing #Whales Aren't Real #third times the charm #f/f #my work #chapter 1 #writeblr

[finchilyflawless]

The 100 Season 5 AU (Bellarke)

Season 5 AU in which the radio tower isn’t screwed up and Clarke actually makes it back to Alie’s lab in time to go to space (effectively preventing Becho from ever becoming a thing). I tried to follow the main storyline from the show itself, but I had to take some artistic liberties, and I haven’t watched the show in a couple months. And scientific inaccuracies are accidental and I swear I tried my best. Enjoy!

Bellamy’s POV:

"She has one more minute," Raven says, frantically prepping for takeoff. We're all in the rocket, ready to go. Except for Clarke. She should have left the radio tower 9 minutes ago. She should be here any second. She has to be.

30 seconds later, still no Clarke. "Bellamy... we have to go," Raven says to me, looking scared and sad, but determined. If Clarke's not back, she will launch this rocket. Raven will make sure we survive. If Clarke's not here, Raven will make sure the rest of us survive.

We can't leave Clarke. We can't. I can't. I won't. "No. She'll get here." I'm tearing up, I can feel it. She has to make it back. We can't survive in space for 5 years without her. I can't survive in space for 5 years without her.

CRASH

A bunch of beakers are shoved off a table as someone stumbles into the room. They're wearing one of our hazmat suits. It's Clarke. I don't even struggle with the straps, I have them off and I'm leaning out the door before anyone else has even started to move. She's clearly exhausted. She collapses to the floor, panting, then gets back up.

15 seconds on the clock. Clarke' not going to make it. I make a split second decision and jump out of the rocket. I hear several people yelling at me, probably because what I'm doing is incredibly stupid. A grabbed Clarke's arm, wrapping my arm around her and pulling her with me towards the ship, speeding her up considerably.

7 seconds. I push Clarke up the ladder, helping her into the rocket. I jump in and we both scramble for our seats as Raven preps for take off. I strap in, making sure Clarke has done the same. She’s here. She’s safe. We’re together.

Blast off. We're leaving Earth. Maybe for the last time, because we don't have a way to get back down. My sister is still down there. Octavia is down there. So is Abby. Clarke didn't get to say goodbye to her mom, and it's my fault because I killed the radio talking to Octavia. She's not mad about that, is she? I didn't mean for the radio to die. I just wanted to say goodbye to my sister.

We've reached the ring. Raven is prepping for her space walk. Murphy and Emori are checking each other's oxygen tanks. He has 16 minutes. She has 17. "Well, at least I don't have to watch you die," Murphy mutters, rolling his head back. That’s Murphy’s version of ‘shit shit shit.’

"Nobody is dying," Harper says, glaring at Murphy. "Raven's going to get us in there and get the oxygen running. We're going to survive this." I'm not so sure. "And Monty will have his algae farm." That, I'm really not sure about. 5+ years of eating algae does not sound like much fun. But Monty's excited, and as far as I know, it's our only food source.

Raven gets the doors open. "You did it," I say to Clarke, smiling. I expect her to be proud of herself, or at least be happy about it. Instead, she just nods weakly. That's when I notice how heavily she's breathing. "Clarke, where's your oxygen tank?"

Clarke had sprinted for 10 minutes. Straight. When she'd arrived at the lab she was exhausted. She probably had less oxygen left than any of us. "I'm fine," she whispered. It looked like she was trying to steady her breathing. It didn’t appear to be having any effect. "I'm all good," she says a bit louder than before.

I shook my head. She’s lying straight to my face. She doesn’t want me to worry, I can tell. "Clarke, how much oxygen do you have left?" I ask forcefully. If she's running out of oxygen, we need to know. Clarke can't die. Not now. Not like this. I can’t loose her.

Clarke glanced at her oxygen tank. I could tell she tried to hide it, but I noticed her close her eyes for a split second. In that moment, her face revealed it all. She was accepting her imminent death. Then the expression was gone, covered by her calm collected mask. "11 minutes." That got everyone else's attention quickly.

Clarke hid it well, but I could see the fear hidden in the way she avoided eye contact and the uneasy twitch of her jaw. She was scared. Scared to die. Clarke Griffin was afraid to die. The person who had risked her life for us time and time again was afraid of death. Add that to the long list of reasons that Clarke is the bravest person I know.

Raven's back. She's directing the rocket into the landing pad on the ring. We're all running out of oxygen. Clarke's down to 7 minutes of oxygen. Murphy has 11; Emori has 12. I'm not sure about Monty, Harper, Raven, or Echo. I check my oxygen tank. 11 minutes. More than Clarke.

When we into the ring, Murphy and Emori help Raven move the oxygen machine thing. They have to go find a place to hook it up with the vent system. Meanwhile, Monty, Harper, Clarke, Echo, and I pick a nice hallway and pray that the machine works.

Clarke is pacing. She does that when she feels useless or nervous. "I should go help them. They might need another set of hands. Murphy might do something stupid. Emori doesn’t have a lot of experience managing technology."

I cut her off before she can continue panicking. "Clarke. You've done plenty. Raven knows what she's doing. Murphy and Emori will give her all the help she needs." Clearly she doesn't believe me. I'm scared too, but I know Raven can do this. "Clarke, you have less oxygen than any of us. Sit down." She does, begrudgingly.

Monty and Harper sit too, talking quietly. Echo ignores us. I stand near the wall, trying to relax and trust Raven. Clarke looks even more frustrated. Then her oxygen tank beeps. 1 minute. She has one minute of oxygen. I check my tank. 5 minutes. I see Echo checking hers. 3 minutes. Monty has 6, Harper has 5. I can see panic in everyone's eyes.

Clarke's oxygen runs out. She struggles for breath for a few seconds before breathing, "Help..."

Harper reaches for her oxygen tank but Monty stops her. "I have more," he says, removing his oxygen tank and holding his breath. Harper helps Clarke remove her helmet and Monty holds the oxygen tank to her face. She takes a deep breath and relaxes, looking calmer. She hands the oxygen back to Monty, who waits a little while before using it. Clarke is starting to struggle again, so Monty gives it back to her. They continue like this for a few minutes, until Echo's oxygen tank gives the 1-minute warning.

I reach for my tank, but Harper gets hers off first, she stands up as Echo pulls of her helmet. Harper removed her own, holding her breath, and offers Echo the oxygen tank. Echo takes it and takes a breath, just as Clarke tries to use Monty's and gets nothing. It's empty.

I remove my oxygen tank, and give it to Clarke, then remove my helmet. Harper and I are the only ones left with oxygen in our tanks. Echo, Harper, and I sit down, and start passing the tanks to whoever needs them. When my eyes start to close, an oxygen tank is thrust into my hands and I take a breath. I give it to Harper, who looks ready to collapse.

She gets nothing. Somebody passes her the other oxygen tank. She takes a breath, then hands it to Echo, who's looking faint. Echo gets nothing. We're out of air. "Get her to the vent," Monty says. "When the oxygen comes on she needs it first."

We all help Echo get to the vent. She's the first to loose consciousness. Monty goes next. We all look at Harper who looks terrified. Her fear speeds up her heart rate, and she looses consciousness next.

Clarke lies down, trying to conserve energy. I join her. What if Raven doesn't get the oxygen on? What if it was broken? What if we're all going to die. I don't say this out loud. What I do say is, "See you on the other side, Princess." My vision is fuzzy. Everything's going black. I hear a buzz. Is there a bug in here? I don't know. I don't know anything.

***

When I wake up, Harper is already awake, attempting to push Monty's unconscious body towards the venting system. I push myself into a sitting position. "Oh thank god," Harper says. "Move Clarke, please. I was going to move her after Monty."

Clarke is still out of it, limp on the ground next to me. I half lift her and slide her towards the air vent with Echo. Then I help Harper with Monty, who was farther away. "Did you check their pulses?" I ask her. What if they're dead? What if Clarke's dead?

Harper nods. "They're alive. Just deoxygenated." Thank god. "I haven't seen Raven, Murphy, or Emori yet. But they should be ok. When the others wake up we should go find them."

Echo starts to stir, along with Clarke. Good. Monty's not moving yet, but I think that's ok.

Echo wakes up ready to fight. She bolts upright and scans her surroundings before relaxing a bit. "The last time I woke up to unfamiliar surroundings, I was inside Mount Weather," she explains, her expression guarded.

Monty is starting to move when Clarke's eyes open slowly. "Bellamy?" She asks. I can't help but smile. She's ok. We're all ok.

"How do you feel?" I ask. She shrugs, sitting up. "I told you you'd be ok," I say. I can't resist smiling a little every time I talk to her. Unfortunately, I barely get a smile in return. "When Monty wakes up we're gonna go find Raven, Murphy, and Emori."

Clarke nods and pushes herself upright, leaning against the wall. "If the oxygen is working that means somebody was conscious to turn it on. A-at least one of them should be alive." She realizes how pessimistic she sounds and quickly adds, "If not all 3 of them."

As soon as Monty wakes up, Harper collapses on top of him. They cling to each other, Harper pressing a relieved kiss to Monty's lips. I don't think they realize how lucky they are to love somebody who loves you back. I wish I had that.

***

We find Raven, Murphy, and Emori. They're all ok and breathing. Raven goes off with Monty and Harper to set up the algae farm while the rest of us explore the ring. We find 5 rooms that could easily be converted into bedrooms. There's 8 of us, which means we're going to have to share.

Monty and Harper will room together obviously, along with Murphy and Emori. That leaves 3 rooms for 4 people. Clarke will probably want to room with Raven. That leaves Echo and I each with our own room. I hate sleeping alone. That's why I slept around so much when we first got to the ground.

"We got this one," Murphy drawls, pulling Emori by the hand into one of the rooms.

She chuckles and follows him. "We'll see you guys later," she says dismissively, kicking the door shut behind her. I'm sure they'll have lots of... fun.

Clarke takes over a leadership position then, as usual. "Alright. There's 5 rooms and 8 of us. That means 3 pairs and 2 singles. Murphy and Emori are... all set, Monty and Harper should be more than happy to share, which means the three of us and Raven are confined to 3 rooms.

Echo was looking around awkwardly. Things were... tense between us and I know Clarke isn't a fan of her either. "I want my own room," she says, quick and to-the-point.

"I hope you don't expect me to share," a voice says from around the corner. Raven emerges from the hallways we'd come from, her hand on her hip. "I don't do roommates."

Clarke looks thrown for a second but regains her composure quickly. "Um... ok. Echo and Raven get the singles. That leaves... Bellamy. And myself. To share. Yeah, ok we can make this work." I can't read the expression on her face and it's bothering me. I always know what Clarke's thinking.

Raven and Echo are choosing their rooms when Monty and Harper return. "There are 2 rooms left, which one do you guys want?" I ask, pointing to the unclaimed bedrooms-to-be. "We assumes you wouldn't mind sharing." I smirk.

Monty blushes and Harper giggles. "We don't mind," she agrees, giving Monty a look to make sure he agrees. They look at each other and talk quietly for a moment before Harper announces "We'll take this one!"

"Should we ration the food now, or wait?" Monty asks. "Most of us are pretty tired." He's not wrong. "If we decide to wait, I'm in, but at the moment I'd kind of like to sleep."

"Same," agrees Raven, turning towards her room. "It's late anyways. We should all get some shut-eye."

"Agreed," Harper chimes in, leaning her head on Monty's shoulder.

"Agreed," Echo mutters, looking uncomfortable as if she doesn't feel right contributing.

"Agreed," I say.

"I'm in," Clarke states. Then she adds, "But we should look around and see if we can find something more comfortable to sleep on than the floor. We might not find anything, but I think it's worth a try."

Everyone seems to agree so without half an hour or so we've collected 4 cot-mattress-things and a thin bedroll. Raven takes charge and gives all the doubles a cot, before realizing that that leaves just 1 cot and a bedroll between her and Echo.

"You can have it," Echo says dismissively, grabbing the bedroll. "I've slept on worse and I can look again tomorrow."

Raven looks pleasantly surprised. "Thanks," she says, extending her hand to clap Echo's shoulder in a friendly gesture. "I'll help you find another cot tomorrow." Echo nods, a flicker of a grin ghosting across her face.

We all split up into our separate sleeping chambers and try to get comfortable. Unfortunate, I'm anything but comfortable. Don't get me wrong, I feel more than safe being near Clarke. It's just... I never thought I'd be sleeping with her. No, NOT sleeping with her. Definitely not. Just... sharing a bed with her. Not that I'd mind sleeping with Clarke... or maybe I would? I don't know. I think I just need sleep. I think I could sleep for a week.

Before I even notice, Clarke has set up our cot in one corner of the relatively small room. "We don't have any pillows at the moment, but if they had beds there might be some of those around too." She seems sidetracked, rambling on about sensible stuff. She's not usually like this when it's just the 2 of us.

"It's fine," I grumble, my eyelids drooping. "I could probably sleep on rocks right now."

She finally cracks a smile. "I think we all could," she agrees, giving me the look. Clarke has this one look she gives people sometimes, that makes you feel like she knows all your secrets. But you willingly gave them all to her. And don't regret it. Honestly this woman is a miracle. "Do you want the inside or the outside?"

I shrug indecisively leaning against the wall. "I don't care."

Clarke grins a bit more and climbs onto the cot. "You can have the outside." She rolls over until she's next to the wall. "I'll- try not to wake you up - by - like - moving."

She sounds kind of nervous but I'm too tired to really care so I just grunt in acknowledgment and turn off the lights before lying down on my back. I fall asleep almost instantly, barely taking the time to check on Clarke.

***

I'm woken up rather suddenly by a large weight rolling half on top of me. I open my eyes to see Clarke, shaking slightly, clinging to me in her sleep. Her face is screwed up like she's having a nightmare and she keeps whispering things like: "No! Wait... stop! No..." I go to wake her up when I hear, "No... Bellamy!" This is the loudest cry yet, followed by a sob.

I shake Clarke awake gently. "Hey, Clarke, wake up," I murmur to her, using one arm to nudge her. She's still clinging to me desperately and I want to comfort her, but I can't do that if she's asleep. Her eyes open quickly, tears clumping her eyelashes, and she looks at me confusedly. "You had a nightmare. You were crying out in your sleep."

She looks shaken, her eyes unfocused. That is until she realizes she's half-hugging me and scrabbles away. I sigh slightly at the loss of contact and prop myself up on my elbow facing her. Wiping away tears gently, I ask, "Want to talk about it?" Clarke shakes her head. "Didn't think so. You alright?"

She hesitates, then nods, but I don't believe her. "I'm- I'm sorry for- for- you know..."

Clarke starts to inch away from me, still looking unsure as to whether she's safe or not, but so touch her arm gently to stop her. "No, it's ok," I say quietly, settling back down. "Come here, you can lay on me if you want. I don't want you to have any more nightmares."

Clarke starts to move slightly, then stops before I can tell if she was coming towards me or rolling away. "You- you're sure?" I nod and wrap my arm around her as she moves towards me again, resting her head on my chest. "Thank you, Bellamy," she whispers.

“Anytime, Princess.”

Heyyy thanks for reading, hope you liked it! As stated above there will be a part 2, maybe part 3. Follow me for more!

#The 100 #Bellarke #Bellamy Blake #Clarke Griffin #bellamy x clarke #murphy x emori #Fluff #Nightmare #Oneshot

[akoya-pearl]

Missing S6 E2 Scene

#the 100 #clarke griffin #bellamy blake #fanfic #fanfiction #fic #season 6 #this season is shit so far #do they think that passes as cgi? #bitch please #the100 #the 100 season 6 #bellarke #if you squint

[cherubthefish]

Something Fishy

It was early last October when I brought Cherub home with me. I’d been searching the ins and outs of Norwich pet shops for weeks but, by what felt like cursed luck, I could not find the fish I wanted. Each day, as I dragged myself to yet another fish shop, something would get in the way: the shop was closed or their fishes were diseased or they only sold tropical varieties. And then finally -  a goldfish, in a bag, in my hand. But then my card would be declined and I'd be back to square one, again. I survived on frozen peas and instant coffee for that week - frozen peas, instant coffee, and no fish.

A lack of research and a straight up ignorance to the ownership of these little swim-fins meant my tank stood empty for too long. Joy, our building’s cleaner (who surpassed her job role in being a second mum to us all), wasn't sure what to do about it. There's a no pet rule in our halls but given the lack of fish in this contained body of water, there was nothing she could really say. So I bought a fluorescent toy pelican to mock us both. Poking out of the sandy pebbles, he did well in the place of a real, live pet.

At worst, these foolish days were time spent bonding with Freya, it sums up the weird and wonderful nature of our friendship; one that blossomed in an aquarium, sparking conversation with the freaks and geeks of our world about the most beautiful, intricate, saltwater creatures; not having the heart to tell them that we were actually after the Boring Barry’s of the underwater kingdom - the goldfish - and not the cool black ones either, the most basic, golden goldfish.

It was getting a bit ridiculous. The longer I had to wait, the more fixated I became. Watering my potted plants was no longer a novelty and the ever-growing pile of clothes on my floor correlated with my regression to teenhood. As I began cooking for the first time in my life, I realised the Cress I’d so proudly grown, was of little use to any meal, ever. Sure, there was the Egg & Cress Roll but it didn’t enthuse me the way food normally would. Most of my flatmates were vegan, too, which meant avoiding an animal-disarming diet was as much to my benefit, as to theirs. I saved my sheepskin coat for weekends away, snacked on sausages in secret and generally became a master in fraud.

Hannah, the only other meat eater in the flat, felt somewhat differently. She’d leave kilos of chicken to defrost on the kitchen counter and stored boxes of old eggs on her desk for drunken misadventures. Once she’d necked a vodka soda or two, she’d throw them at the bedroom doors of our Samaritan friends. It was a well-kept secret that I would sometimes partake in her mockery of good will.

At the end of the first term, when deadlines were pressing, I made a habit of sticking slices of Honey Roasted Ham to the walls of our flat. The only one ever up before noon, I could easily blame Hannah for my methods of procrastination. She’d hardly stand her ground, never able to distinguish this from that in her alcohol-induced hibernations. We clearly weren’t the grown-ups we thought we were. And If I wanted to carry on bumming about in this flat, not attending my lectures, I needed to take on some responsibility.

In my first week of being Cherub’s proud owner, I invited many friends over to witness the legend, brought all the way from London by Megabus. Outlived his pet-shop prediction by a four-hour diversion and a one hour lecture, hidden from sight from nonexistent course friends in a lousy manner. A few odd looks from the left and right but overall dismissed to be the usual, unusual fanatics of campus life. The whole process was slightly unnecessary given the lecture was on a reading I hadn’t done so in the logic of first-year living, had consequently not needed to attend.

Using the time productively, I posted a picture on Instagram, captioned: Meet Cherub. A photo I’d taken earlier that day. No wit necessary, an unfortunate birthmark resembling a Hitler mustache on his upper fish-lip was enough to win the likes of followers, all around. Bets were placed by friends in the comment section, on how long he’ll live. Two days. My brother wrote. One. Hannah bartered. All too aware that he might be dead in the bag as I typed, I warned them that jealousy was not an attractive trait and that if they didn’t watch out he might, in fact, outlive them.

Over the Christmas holidays, we found a spot for Cherub on the kitchen counter of my parent’s house. Nestled into the corner, he was a modest exhibit to the many guests that came and went over those winter months, a reason for our dog to jump up in jealousy, each time they raised their voices in exaggerated exclamation over that fun-sized thing and its fun-sized fins. On boxing day, when our entire extended family had gathered in our North London terrace. I stumbled into a back and forth exchange with my three autistic cousins. They questioned, with childlike reasoning, why, of all things, I would get myself a fish. Seeing me struggle to rationalize the decision, Dad jumped in to help. It’s nice to care for someone, he said. I’ve got her mum but Ally, she doesn’t have that yet!

Dad began to repeat this time and again to anyone who would listen; to his friends, to my friends, to everyone. He’d gage the audience, tweaking his wording accordingly. Just before the New Year, over pizza with some family friends, the subject of romantics came up. They had been teasing their youngest member, Ben, about a girl he’d been seeing. What about you, Ally? They asked, and Dad did not miss his queue. Tell them about Cherub! He cackled. She doesn’t have a fella, so she got a fish. Mouth full of dough balls, my ramekin of garlic butter, licked clean -  I denied nothing. Perhaps he was right.

Two years later, after accompanying me through the various car, bus and train journeys to and from Norwich, in my complete indecision whether to continue my studies or drop out, Cherub and I finally settled into our new London life. In months of being overworked and slightly undernourished (sixteen-hour shifts with nothing but a croissant in my stomach), he too lost weight. When I quit the job and spent days munching and crunching on all things sweet, he would get bigger, fatter, thicker. His tank water would fog up in correlation with the dirt that gathered on the floor of my new flat. In a way I’d never intended, he became a mirror up to my life. If I wasn’t caring for myself, I certainly wasn’t caring for him. So each time algae would build up too much, clogging up his oxygen supply, each time I’d slept too little, drank too much and felt clogged inside - I’d clean his tank and by doing so clear my mind.