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#rice fish
hellsitegenetics · 1 month
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i hope this is a bunny. or something cute. because everything is a bug. i love bunnies. please be a mammal pleeeeease anything but another buggg give me something fuzzyyyy
String identified: t a . tg ct. ca tg a g. . a a aa a atg t at ggg g tg
Closest match: Oryzias latipes strain Hd-rR chromosome 17 sequence Common name: Japanese rice fish
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ryllen · 4 months
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[ x . x . x ]
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fattributes · 2 months
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Creamy Roasted Red Pepper Salmon
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daily-deliciousness · 21 days
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Mosaic sushi
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glassshine · 4 months
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Fish Dating sim
Shrimp cook
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ryuubff · 1 month
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kinda tiny 1.6 sdv spoilers !!
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i got real excited when i thought we could possibly make trouts race each other ... didn't even question the logistics of it all because it's stardew .......
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besides that jia destroyed the competition and is enjoying their new wall decor!
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hajihiko · 7 months
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begging crying screaming for hajime relaxing at the hot tub/sauna after treating all his friends
I was already drawing this lol its close!
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babanasaur · 2 months
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Sushi Ravtecyber
Food piece completed for Ravtecyber!
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unbfacts · 10 months
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biscuit-munchies · 1 month
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HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE ONE AND ONLY YAMCHA!!! some of my favorite frames below
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mssallsunday · 3 months
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solargeist · 25 days
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Okok here it is 1. Cw unreality stuff i guess? Like not being able to tell if you’re hallucinating 2. I know you said they scare each other but uhh they kind of psychologically horror each other it got away from me a bit
Scar figured he was finally going crazy.
It was overdue, really, with how long he had been alone. Stranded on a hostile world, left checking over his shoulder, expecting doom around every corner, it really shouldn’t have come as a surprise that he’d started seeing things. A flicker of purple, staining his periphery as he moved about his base. It disappeared the moment he whipped around to see it, and faded from view within a few seconds every time that he noticed it, but as the stain stuck for longer and longer just in the very corner of his vision, he started to worry that this might actually be the end of him.
That was dramatic, he thought, over just a flash of purple tucked away in his blind spot, something very likely just a trick of the light. He thought, until he started monologuing to this violet cataract, started feeling the weight of eyes on his back. He’d cook more than he had planned to and leave plates out, disobeying the strict rations he had set for himself (because that was all he had to feed, himself, no one else). He had full conversations with an empty room, holding that violet smudge in the corner of his eye like a match cupped in shaking hands against a howling wind. The plates always ended up empty. He wasn’t sure who ate them. He couldn’t remember.
Time went on. Things got worse. He saw purple even when he wasn’t trying, still fading the moment he tried to pull it from his periphery, but still hiding there, by his cupboards and corners and closets, in every space that he wasn’t looking. He clung to it— sometimes it would leave for hours on end, he didn’t notice the absences before. Now they felt like bleeding out.
It was warm that day, he remembered, that he last spoke to the stain. Not directly to it, of course— moreso at it, or around it, or through it, something like that— but he found himself talking until he was hoarse nowadays and that day was no exception. “I’ve been meaning to replace these curtains,” he informed no one, stroking the sun-soaked fabric of the window between his thumb and forefinger as the shape behind him watched from the countertop. “I used to have boats on my curtains. My brother had spaceships. I was so jealous. It seemed so important then.” He let go of the curtain, letting his hand fall to the side. “I hope he’s okay. My brother. I keep hoping— I think he got off-world in time, before the transporter system broke down. They said on the radio, years ago, they’d come back for us. The scientists, not my brother.” He turned his head just slightly, catching the blurred shape in his vision as it leaned towards him. He wasn’t sure if it was genuine interest or just a bored shift. “No, the scientists said they’d get emergency transporters in place in a few months, so maybe he caught one of those, him and mom. Then again, the radios went down before the project was done, so. Not sure if they ever went through with it, if they decided we were a lost cause. I’m still here, I guess, just… waiting. For rescue, I think. Hopefully whatever it is I’m waiting for will come soon because I—“
He turned his eyed a degree too far. The shape that had grown so clear and close to him vanished like a candle blown out. He was in his kitchen. He was alone. A cupboard made bare by greedy hands and spiders, something was wrong, something was missing. He didn’t used to feel this bad about being alone, didn’t he? He had been alone before, had it really been this bad?
He figured he was finally going crazy.
Scar didn’t talk to the spot in his peripheral vision after that. He saw it and he looked away. He turned the lights out that night, all of them, hoping desperately that the darkness couldn’t trick him the way the light did. Still, his room illuminated in purple glow. He covered the mirror in the bathroom despite knowing that just behind his reflection lurked something that was not real and was not there. He closed his eyes and saw purple, purple, purple.
Tonight felt different, somehow, like fallen dew rather than ceaseless fog. Scar took a determined breath, not with less energy, but energy more focused. The air, now that he was just above the tree-line, seemed to breathe with him in powerful and controlled movements. The lights were on below him. Normally he wasn’t one to waste power, but he was facing this thing tonight if it killed him, and if it killed him, it wouldn’t really matter if he left the fridge open and the oven preheated. One more deep breath.
He found the spot in his peripheral as easily as breathing. It tried to flicker. He didn’t let it. A fraction of a degree at a time, he dragged his eye towards it, somehow forgetting its small, humanoid shape even as it lingered on in the center of his vision, form held together with spiderwebs and moth wings. Scar’s eyes burned but he didn’t dare blink. He could see them. A short, humanoid shape radiating purple and purple and purple. It was the inverse of blinding, nearly drowned out by its own afterimage, a bruise of light covering what Scar was certain was its face although he had to check a second time to make sure, the memories of what it looked like slipping past him like sand through fingers, vanishing the second he wasn’t actively thinking about it. He stared it straight in its eyes, or, where he thought its eyes should be, or, where he had already been staring and now could not remember why. He spoke, finally, for what he did not realize was the first time in a week.
“You.”
And it responded, in a voice as fragile and momentary as the wind chimes he used to keep on his porch,
“You see me?”
Or did it say, “So you can see me,” or, “I’m sorry,” or, “Was this it? Was this what you wanted? What you waited for, for so long, so very, very long?”
Or maybe it said nothing at all. Maybe he just imagined it. It had fallen through his fingers. The words were sand.
“Yes,” he answered, not remembering the question.
With a shaking hand he reached towards the bruise in his vision, palm up and terrified.
“You really shouldn’t be able to see me…” the thing muttered (but maybe didn’t), reaching forward with its own hand. Palm down, landing hesitantly on Scar’s. Their hands touched, and with the sound of glass wind chimes and an hourglass breaking in reverse, the haze shattered, reabsorbed into this newly material being like a lizard eating its own shed skin. Scar blinked. The thing, now visible and rememberable as a short, blonde man with two eyes (purple) and, in fact, an entire face typical of a person. The wings were new, though.
He looked down at their hands, still held, and dragged a thumb across the back of the man’s hand, remembering the texture; rough, but not calloused, like he maybe needed some lotion.
“How?” It asked, and this time it stuck in the world, echoing across the roof.
This time Scar didn’t answer. “Who are you?”
The man with wings hesitated. A second too long, and a new voice spoke, from no determinable source.
“Alright, sunrise, that’s enough.”
This voice shot clean through the world, a practiced arrow leaving no entry or exit wound. In fact, Scar was certain no one had spoken at all.
He looked back at the man whose hand he held. He was not there. Had he ever been there?
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OHH this was fun , i doodled bc the part abt Scar making two meals stuck out to me
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fattributes · 7 months
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Cajun Shrimp Étouffée
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daily-deliciousness · 4 months
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🍣
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fish-daily · 3 months
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hello... would you draw a medaka (rice fish, genus Oryzias) :) they come in many variations but i shall leave that up to you. my fave are the partially orange ones ! btw your fishes are so beautiful i am so joyous i have discovered your blog!
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fish 258 - medaka/japanese rice fish
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brattylikestoeat · 17 days
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