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pseudowho · 2 months

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Deadly Nightshade

(help me find the Suguru artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

A Suguru Geto "sex pollen" fic.

Suguru swallows an aphrodisiac curse, and finds the reader when his entanglement becomes too much to bear.

Warnings: *MONSTERFUCKING*, Loss of control (Suguru), rough but consensual, throat-fucking, Suguru's cursed technique...but sexy, tentacle shibari, cum as cure

(AU!Adult Suguru who never left Jujutsu High timeline)

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"Will be late home. It's a big one. Go to sleep without me, baby. You'll be tired."

Suguru finished tapping, looking up to the abandoned industrial site with wary interest, slipping his phone back into his pocket. He felt beckoned into this concrete jungle in a way he found unsettling; the Curse was clearly disguising its true potential, hiding in plain sight...but calling in back-up (likely Nanami or Higuruma at this time of day) would only put them at risk. And, they were tired.

With an internal spiteful sting at having lost his evening with you, which Suguru suppressed, black eyes flat and expressionless, he stepped onwards into the plunging lush foliage and exposed steel beams.

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Suguru's apologetic text filled you with disappointed longing. Loneliness and worry quashed your appetite. All your hopes and plans for a soft, touch-filled evening curled up on the sofa with him, were wiped.

Sighing, lovelorn and resigned, you took yourself to bed, your face snuffled into Suguru's pillow and the soft-spiced smell of him, to lull you into sleep.

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Suguru staggered through the door, leaning back to close it, gasping, sweating, clawing his jacket and shirt off his body. He burned from within, like the nine circles of hell.

After swallowing the curse, the roiling forest had disappeared with it...but Suguru soon felt its many limbs stretching within him, caressing the deepest parts of him, blighting him with this ungodly pain--

--no...not pain, Suguru thought vaguely, now naked except for his hakama, beads of sweat dripping from chest to belly as he teetered towards the bathroom. White-knuckled hands clasped the sink-- Suguru caught himself in the mirror, ripples of desire thrumming through him with every frantic beat of his heart, his raven hair free of its tie and framing febrile eyes--

Suguru retched, his shoulders heaving with exertion, retching again, his rigid cock crushed against his thigh as he collapsed forwards, seeping pre-cum and shaking and moaning, thinking of you in your bed you in your bed you in your bed--

Out of control I'm out of control got to take it back got to--

Something in Suguru snapped.

The lights flickered out one by one, from bathroom to corridor, as an eldritch forest clawed its way back out of him.

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You awoke in a fever dream, your sigh condensing and hanging heavy and humid in the earthy hushhushhush of a tropical forest, teeming with life.

What a strange dream, you thought. You did not notice how this set you apart from true dreamers, who would not find anything unusual about waking on a bed of moss and monstera. The duvet felt warm and springy with foliage beneath your fingertips, your toes, your body.

You had slept, and these uncanny tropics had grown up around you. Not one surface was free of queerly animated vines, yawning tropical flowers, and thick verdant leaves. Unable to see where one room began and another ended, your little home suddenly stretched for miles and closed in on you all at once.

You stepped gingerly off the bed, your feet settling on dewy leaves, splitting the fine low mist that clouded there. As you stepped to the doorway, you did not feel the hissing black tendrils, more creature of the deep than plant, that reached longingly after your feet.

Led only by curious patches of bioluminescence, eerie and golden, you moved to the living room, blinking, certain you were ill. A familiar voice, soft and dangerous, came forth from the shadows.

"You're awake. Good. I'd have fucked you while you slept, but they wanted you squirming."

With a gasp and a cry, you felt yourself become intangibly bound and suspended, feeling the rush of smooth tendrils snaking around your chest and bare thighs, wrists and ankles. Wrists tied behind your back, and legs folded up until your heels touched the backs of your thighs, your legs spread, you hung at face level to Suguru, who stalked out from a patch of hazy light.

Suguru had always held a haunting grace, a soft, untouchable masculinity, an unwavering abstract sensitivity. But, approaching you now, his black eyes were flat, sharklike, predatory. He had not hunted you, but had, instead, waited for you on the outskirts of his web.

In only his hakama, fine black tendrils tattooed his skin, animating him as he panted, desperate and sweating. The tendrils seemed to be soothing him, stroking, constantly moving over his rigid cock, his chest, his throat. As your own tendrils began to offshoot from the black wet-velvet vines that bound you, creeping under your clothes, circling round your nipples and creeping towards your core, a whimper broke free from your throat.

"Shhhhh, shh, shh, I need you wet if you're gonna do this for me, sweetheart."

Suguru stepped to you as if you catch your voice in his hands, sliding one finger into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. He shivered in contrary to the inferno inside him, gripping his weeping cock with a roughened moan. As Suguru stroked your tongue, he reached down to undo his hakama, letting the coiling vines pull them from his body.

Suguru pressed against you now, lifting your top so he could rut his weeping cock against your belly, still examining your mouth with his fingers. You felt them tremble against your tongue. The last shreds of your Suguru were the only thing holding him back from taking you with bruising force. The vines coiled through your top, your underwear, shredding, removing, until you were naked, suspended, entwined.

Suguru's black eyes feasted on you, one hand stroking his cock with an iron grip, pre-cum wetting his fingers, and the other hand grazing over you, stroking the peaks of your breasts, your ribs, slipping between your puffy lips to see how ready you were for him. Carnal instinct took over, and he pressed himself back against you, his cock leaping in his hand.

Suguru shivered again, skin to skin with you. He knew, instinctively, that the itch at the base of his skull would not-- could not-- become dormant until he had completely spent himself inside you.

"You know I wouldn't ask more of you than I know you can take," Suguru cooed, soft and persuasive against your lips. You felt a tendril slip over your mound, slipping between your wet folds and coiling snugly around your clit, massaging it, rolling it. You mewled into Suguru's mouth, and he swallowed it down hungrily, kissing your sighs and whimpers off your lips.

"Oh fuck, baby-- you feel so wet--"

With a jolt, you realised that Suguru's hands clasped you by the hips, nowhere near your core.

"You can't feel tha-- how can you--" Suguru bit your lip, punishingly hard and you squeaked as the tendril that pleasured you so tenderly squeezed your clit in reprimand, simultaneously.

"They're mine," Suguru hissed, "just like every godforsaken curse I swallow," and he pulled you lower so your core settled on his cockhead, the vines acting in symbiosis with him to drag your thighs apart, "just like you're mine. And you'll help me...won't you?"

You felt a thicker tendril snake up the inside of your thigh, ghosting at your entrance. With savage force and a growl of warning, Suguru ripped it aside, pressing his cockhead inside you just enough to prevent any other intrusions.

Suguru's orgasm hit him with obscene force and he collapsed into you, stuttering his hips just once, before cumming with a shout, his seed spattering into your entrance and puffy lips, dripping down your bound thighs in thick white streams. Suguru's moans elongated into staccato whimpers, before descending into a hiss of unbridled rage.

"That did fucking nothing," he growled, tangling his fingers into your hair, yanking your head to the side, sinking his sharp canines into the front of your throat. His cockhead still leapt just inside you, spurting weak trickles of cum, and Suguru almost cried to feel absolutely no relief from the burning need throbbing through his body.

You felt the vines squeeze around you, your nipples clamped and rolled until tears filled your eyes with ethereal blurred lights. Suguru reached his long arms behind you, grasping the tops of your shoulders to slam you down against him, impaling you, gasping and wildly overstimulated, onto his cum-lubricated cock.

The tendril rolling and flicking over your clit picked up speed, and you came, twisting against your restraints, crying Suguru's name. Suguru stared hungrily down to where he bottomed out in your pussy, watching and feeling it clench around his cock with shuddering bliss.

As the tendrils continued to work on your nipples and clit, your pleasure becoming frantic and painful, making you squirm and pull away from them, Suguru landed a stinging slap to your arse.

"Fucking take it. What good are you if you can't milk this thing out of me? More." Suguru lifted you just once, cruelly slamming you down again, warning you against your squirming, needing beyond need for you to clench around him again.

"Suguru-- please-- it's too much--" Your needy cries broke off into agonal gasps as you came again and Suguru's head dropped back, jaw slack as he felt your pussy clench and contract, sucking cum from him, surely enough to relieve him, surely--

"No, I-- no--" he panted, his eyes frantic, watching his seed leak out of you, now floppy and malleable in your corseting vines. Digging both hands into his hair, scratching at his own scalp, then moving his fingertips to his tongue to suck them with a ragged groan, Suguru grasped at straws for any stimulation to purge him of this monstrous need.

As he gripped himself, clutching and agonised, his eyes feverish, you could only moan stunted little moans as the vines around you lifted and dropped you, thrusting you savagely onto Suguru's length, still impossibly hard. You leaned forwards, kissing Suguru with urgency, trying to claw him back to you as his vines fucked you against him. He nipped at you, biting, no longer the gentle man you knew.

"Not hard enough-- shit, you can-- can do better than that--"

Finding some strength again, Suguru's hands dropped to your hips, kneading the plush fat there, trying to squeeze you around him, and he added to the strength of his vines, lifting and slamming you back onto him.

So lost were you both in chasing his release, neither of you noticed the forest around you gradually withering, fading and dying. The bioluminescence waxed and waned, throwing strange, marionette shadows around the room.

You were thankful for the embrace of the vines, unable to count how many times you had peaked from the constant stimulation of vines, masturbating you while Suguru kept your cunt and belly constantly filled. Suguru gasped and murmured into your neck, all unintelligible, unreasonable demands of you, and pleas for release.

As Suguru came with a ragged cry again, filling your aching pussy to the sound of wet, squelching thrusts, you felt the tendrils around your breasts and clit wither away, leaving your buds swollen and tender.

Suguru could barely stand, supported by a few remaining vines, still staring into you, so hungry but so spent. You felt him pull his cock out of you, dripping with his own seed, and you cried out to feel his cock replaced by a thick-tipped vine, pressing against your cervix, shunting his seed up into your belly.

Suguru's eyes rolled back to feel this bizarre vicarious pleasure, lazily letting the vine thrust his cum back into you, as the others twisted you, tilting so your back was parallel to the floor, your head tipped back, mouth level with his cock, still so red and aching.

"Is your throat tighter than your pussy?" Suguru pondered aloud, drunk and swaying with divine ecstasy as he fingered the sides of your jaw, slapping his cockhead against your lips and tongue. When you stuck out your tongue invitingly, swiping its tip across Suguru's slit, he gasped, shuddering and gritting his teeth.

"Let's find out," Suguru hissed, sliding his cock into your mouth, letting you taste your combined arousal, before thrusting with an injured moan into your throat, squeezing you, feeling the ridges of his cock move inside you as you gagged around him.

Pulling out enough to let you breathe, Suguru gripped you by the head and neck, grunting as he rutted into you, his pleasure doubled by his vine fucking his cum back into your pussy. Suguru's eyes fixed, fascinated, on the wet slip of this extra appendage inside you, how you reflexively humped against it as if it was his cock, how you mewled and whimpered at its intrusive tenderness.

As you twitched and shuddered, convulsing with overstimulation, Suguru came for the last time in a soundless gasp, his knees almost buckling beneath him as wave after wave of please rolled through him, washing away the dreadful, burning itch running through his brain and spine, leaving him exhausted, but finally un-fogged, finally in control.

With little warning, you were released from your bounds, and Suguru caught you, cradling you against him, and lowering you with a fractured groan to the floor. He sunk onto you, his mouth on your neck in prayer, kissing and soothing, blessing you with his relief.

"Would've died," he insisted, kissing your hair, your eyes, your nose, spooning you against him as the last remnants of this unwelcome forest embered away, rising like ashes on rising heat to fade into the night, "would've died-- died if you hadn't--"

You shushed Suguru, plaiting his fingers with yours across your chest as he shivered and heaved against you.

"Not...not your fault," you yawned, leaning into his kisses, "but like I keep telling you...you can't eat all of your problems away." Suguru laughed softly, nuzzling you.

"No...can fuck them away though, apparently."

Sticky and intertwined together on the floor, Suguru surveyed the cracked floorboards, the walls rended by vines, and trickles of damp running down from the ceiling. Lips puckering in dread against your neck, Suguru whispered.

"What, uhm...what do we tell the home insurance company?"

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By far the most unhinged thing I've ever written. I'll see myself out.

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littlepawz · 6 months

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Harpy eagle, the largest eagle in the world looks like a person in a bird costume, but judging by the size of his talons, I wouldn't want to make fun of him face to face. They live primarily in the upper canopy layer of tropical lowland forest and are considered "endangered species" in Central America due to the rapid decline in their numbers as a result of deforestation. Less than 50,000 of them can be seen over the world.

Harpy eagles have a hearty appetite and enjoy munching on a variety of monkeys, tree porcupines, sloths, coatis, birds, snakes, and lizards.

#harpy eagle #birds #birds of prey #largest birds #largest eagle #endangered species #goofy looking birds #huge talons #no handshake please #scary claws #wildlife #wild animals #nature #wow #bird lovers #birdwatching #birding

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zepskies · 5 months

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Get Stuffed

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-sized Latina!Reader

Summary: Dean enjoys the way you cook Christmas dinner with a Latin flair, even if Sam likes to tease him about his insatiable appetite. You remind Sam about the true reason behind one of Dean’s biggest quirks.

AN: This was requested by my lovely friend @iprobablyshipit91: Sam making the usual digs at Dean about his diet, and how much he eats, and the reader pulling him aside and telling him to back off as he doesn’t realize how much Dean went hungry as a kid to make sure Sam was fed.

Word Count: 1,800 Tags/Warnings: Fluff, innuendo, tinge of angst

**This story can be read as stand-alone, but you can also check out the full masterlist of one-shots below. ⤵️

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

“Aw, hell yeah,” Dean mutters. He rubs his hands together and surveys the immovable feast that’s about to get shoveled into his mouth.

This Christmas marks roughly your first year living with the brothers Winchester in the bunker, and a few months after your first anniversary with Dean.

He’s made it very clear that he enjoys your cooking, especially of Cuban food. So you’ve gone all out for Christmas: white rice and your grandmother’s recipe for black beans, boiled yuca with plenty of garlic, bread drizzled with more garlic and olive oil, and Dean’s favorite…

“What’s this part of the pig called again?” he asks. And he uses a large fork to spear into the mountain of roasted meat that you’ve already cut and piled onto a platter.

You come in from the kitchen with the bread in hand, placing it on the dinner table. You sidle up behind him, where he's seated.

“The shoulder,” you say, squeezing both of Dean’s. He hums in interest as you press a kiss to the side of his head. “It’s called pernil. Marinated with garlic, mojo, bunch of good stuff.”

He predictably steals a juicy piece of meat, plopping it into his mouth. He grins while he chews and makes a happy sound.

“Ohoho, yeah.”

You share an amused look with Sam, who sits beside his brother. By the time you’ve found your seat on Dean’s other side, he’s already serving you and Sam the same hefty portions he serves himself.

You know for a fact you’re only going to eat about half of your plate. Sam manages to polish his off. Dean does as well…and serves himself twice more before you break out the dessert.

“Please tell me that’s a flan,” Dean says, drumming his fingers on the table.

“How the hell are you still hungry?” Sam asks.

The look on his face says he’s half entertained, half disgusted. Dean is still sucking on the crispy skin on a piece of pork. He licks the juices off his fingers.

“Have I taught you nothing?” he says. “There’s always room for dessert.”

He tosses you a wink, followed closely by a suggestive smirk. You glance at him with a smile as you set down the metal pan.

“It is a flan,” you affirm. “I tried my hand at coconut this time.”

“Ooh, tropical,” Dean says, waggling greasy fingers. He wipes them on a napkin before he reaches for the pie cutter, which is usually reserved for his favorite dessert. Although, flan is rapidly becoming his second go-to. The rich custardy goodness is calling to him like a siren song.

“How can I get you to make this more often?” Dean mutters while carving out a generous slice.

Your lips curve. You rest your chin on your hand and lean towards him, earning his gaze. “If I made it all the time, you wouldn’t savor it, now would you?”

Dean smirks. His gaze lowers to your lips, like he’s contemplating some persuasive maneuvers.

“You’d also be 300 pounds,” Sam remarks, taking a sip of his beer.

You eye Sam with a frown. But Dean just laughs it off and cuts his little brother a slice.

By the end of the meal, all three of you are stuffed. Dean groans and leans back in his seat. A gurgle mounts audibly from his stomach.

“Jesus. Are you erupting?” Sam says.

Dean holds up a finger. “Wait for it.”

You give your boyfriend a bemused look. You know exactly what’s about to happen. As does Sam, who’s grimacing.

A few seconds later, Dean does erupt, with a truly legendary belch.

“Nice,” you say wryly. Dean squeezes your soft, thick thigh and backs his chair away from the table.

“Well, since I roasted the pig and you did the rest, I’d say it’s Sammy’s turn on cleaning duty,” he says.

“Thanks,” Sam says, with a wan smile. Yours is more jovial, even as Dean’s hand toys with a curl of your hair after he stands.

“I’m gonna shower off the meat sweats,” he says.

You giggle, but you nod. “You do that. I’ll help Sam a bit, put away the food at least.”

Your smile becomes more genuine when Dean drops a kiss on your forehead from above.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he says. His voice is a quiet, deep rumble washing over you. You know what he’s thanking you for: good food, and a small, but warm Christmas.

You reach up and give his cheek a tender touch, before he withdraws and makes his way to the bedroom he shares with you. It leaves you and Sam to collect what’s on the table and bring it all into the kitchen. While Sam does the dishes, you start to put away the leftovers.

Something has been nagging at you all night, though you’ve tried to stamp it down time and time again. You don’t know if it's your place to say something. Especially if Dean doesn’t seem bothered…but it bothers you. And you’ve never been one to hold your tongue.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” you begin, even as a small bit of trepidation niggles inside you.

Sam looks over at you. He’s quick to catch the serious note in your demeanor.

“Yeah, what’s up?” he replies. You okay? his eyes also ask.

“Why do you get on Dean so much for enjoying his food?” you ask.

Sam blinks. Then he scoffs a little. “There’s enjoying, and then there’s gluttony.”

“He’s not that bad,” you argue.

“He ate half his weight in pig,” Sam says. You can’t exactly deny that, but you cross your arms and turn to him, leaning your hip against the counter.

“So? It’s Christmas. Let him be happy,” you retort.

Sam levels you with pinched brows. “He’s not in his 20s anymore. All that crap he eats is going to catch up to him someday.”

“What, you expect him to down some kale smoothies?” you reply, giving a pointed brow raise and a teasing smile. “Get up at the crack of dawn for a bare-chested run?”

Sam shoots you a dry look.

“My point is, I’m not gonna survive hundreds of monster attacks just to get taken down by cholesterol,” he says.

You sigh a raise a placating hand. “All right. I get what you’re saying. I’m just saying…have you ever thought about why he loves food so much? Why he overindulges sometimes?”

Sam's brow quirks. It’s a question you know you need to tread lightly in order to answer. You uncross your arms to lay a hand on Sam’s wrist. He stops washing dishes and turns off the sink to give you his full attention, sensing your shift.

You look up at him, and you steel yourself.

“He might’ve mentioned once…that you two sometimes had a hard time growing up. With John taking you guys from motel to motel while he was working a job, and every now and then, leaving you guys alone longer than he meant to.”

Dean had been more than a bit drunk when you’d gotten this out of him. Hearing about that aspect of his upbringing had upset you, not just as someone who cared about him, but the caretaker in you smarted.

“Even though you guys didn’t have enough money at times, your brother always made sure you were fed,” you explain. You meet Sam’s gaze, squeezing his arm. “Sometimes he went without.”

Sam’s expression slowly slackens, contemplative and dismayed at what you’re implying. He dries his hands on a kitchen towel and rubs at his mouth, like he’s reeling back the years of evidence in his mind and trying to confirm if you were right.

“You don’t remember?” you gently ask.

Sam shakes his head. “I mean, I knew things were tight. I remember him taking care of me, obviously. But…”

He doesn’t remember his brother going hungry.

It carves a hole of remorse in his chest.

This isn’t the first time he’s had to reexamine Dean’s role in his life, and not the first time he’s felt this flavor of guilt. But he sighs and really doesn’t know what to say.

You seem to realize that, and you squeeze his arm one last time.

“Just keep that in mind,” you implore.

You soon leave him to venture upstairs, but there in the kitchen, Sam makes a resolution before the new year. One that includes having a conversation with his brother.

You find Dean in your bedroom. Now in his most threadbare sweatpants and an old black shirt, he lays over the covers on the bed. His eyes are closed and his arms are folded behind his head, but he hears you when you come in.

You slide into bed next to him and lay your head on his chest. He groans deep and slowly lowers his arms. One of them wraps around your frame.

“Think I overdid it a bit,” he admits, cracking his eyes open. You smile and gently pat his stomach.

“Wanna go for a walk tomorrow?” you ask. “We can go down to the park.”

Dean raises a brow at you. “You hate walking.”

“Not true,” you shake your head, before you rest more comfortably against him. He tucks you in beside him and begins to run his fingers down your arm. It’s a bit distracting.

“Could be nice, with the right view,” you add, though you shiver a little at his touch.

Dean makes a sound of mild interest in the idea. “I guess, if you like stringy trees and frozen lakes.”

It’s winter in Lebanon. Not much to look at.

You smirk and press a kiss to his chest. “I mean, that, and you in some little Richard Simmons shorts.”

Dean gives you a look, and you giggle so hard it shakes your whole body against him.

“Honestly, I think that’ll really do it for me,” you tease. You walk two fingers across his thigh, where a cute pair of ‘80s-style exercise shorts would cut off.

Dean grabs your hand and rolls you over, pinning you underneath him on the bed. His thigh slips between both of yours, causing friction against your jeans. And he smirks down at you.

“Sweetheart, I don’t do shorts.”

AN: 😂 A little callback to S1 at the end there. I hope you guys liked this! Just in time to prepare for my Christmas cooking! ❤️💚

Keep Reading:

Next up in this series is "A Wish to Build a Dream On":

Summary: Dean has been harboring the archangel Michael in his mind for weeks now, putting a strain on your relationship as you struggle to help him. When Dean makes a wish that accidentally brings his father back from the dead, you get to meet the (in)famous John Winchester. But as always with magic, your boyfriend’s wish has unintended consequences.

▶️ Next Story: A Wish to Build a Dream On

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@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictear @nic-kolas @sanscas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

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#Get Stuffed #Midnight Espresso verse #reader requests #Christmas fic #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x latina!reader #dean winchester x plus sized!reader #dean winchester x plus size!reader #dean winchester x you #spn #supernatural #dean winchester x poc!reader #poc!reader #latina!reader #plus sized reader #sam winchester #zepskies writes

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iren-n-ire · 11 months

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Astrology Observation 9

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🚩 Take note that I'm not a professional astrologer, I just share what I experienced (or observed).

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┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈

♦ Taurus in the sixth house, hello to all my lazy people, the legends of procrastination lol

♥ Libra in the 12th house lowkey wants to be with someone (can be literally wants a lover) or just someone to hangout with, they're loners (big emphasis if there's no planet here)

💀 Aries in the fifth house...You come off too strong to your crush that's why they're scared of you lol

⛑️ Neptune in third house when watching movies, it gets stucked in their head...may even copy it un/consciously such as the characters' way of speaking, behaviors, etc. They might dream about it too so my advice is be careful when watching disturbing or horror videos💀

🧠 Aquarius in the third house... Ma intelligent people with their own unique vocabularies, topics, way of talking lol which sometimes... People don't get you, so you end up talking to yourself because who cares??? You also talk with your mind 24/365 whether inside or outside of your house

One scenario I kept experiencing with this placement is when I'm with my classmates, I get bored with their talks like oh my gosh I'm gonna fail blah blah blah bro can we talk about more sensible things or intellectual stimulation stuffs, just anything beside the norms

🌹As a Leo sun & midheaven in the sidereal astrology (doesn't matter if tropical, draconic, or you're sidereal, this can still be applied to you if you have this) , I've notice a pattern in myself which is talking about me in most of my chats 💀 with my closest friends. Shoutout to all of my Leos out there (big 3 or stellium), are you also like this?😆

👺 To all my Scorpions and Cancers out there (big 3, you have 1 planet there, or stellium), do you feel bad to yourself when you don't know something about someone like friends and your other friends know about it because for you, it means closure and I feel that but as I stated above 💀 bro is self-centered lol how can you know if you also don't ask and kept babbling about yourself 💀

Do you also do that? You want closure but you don't even ask because you also respect the word "privacy" of theirs

🍓Taurus sixth house natives are also foodies, why? Its in the house of daily stuffs, these people have huge appetite 💀 and they can't survive without their favorite foods in the house💀🤣 They always want something tasty in their mouth💀

They're artistic too, singing maybe their thang daily or anything verbal like rapping and spoken poetry (Taurus is related to voice and neck)

One of the literal homebodies xD

🍷Having a stellium or placements in Gemini has a youthful appearance, their beauty stays young...the epitome of forever young

I have mine in 8th house + Saturn conjunct Venus. My parents said one time when they saw my childhood friends passing by and they noticed that my face didn't change (matured face yk what I mean?)

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youremyheaven · 10 months

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Astrology Masterpost

Tropical Astrology

tropical astro observations

tropical astro observations pt 2

another mini observation post

yet another trop post

here's another one

woop another tropical post

another one baby

astro notes where i talk about 8h lives

me spitting factzz <3

damn another one

i had no idea i made these many posts

for real

wouldnt be an astro observation post without me talking about pisces/12th house thingz 😎🥰

voice, 12th house, synastry

sex, romance and freaky behaviour 💀🥵🔥😩

sex astrology

the astrology of voice 🎶🎧

relationship astrology

Random Astrology Observations

Vedic Astrology

my first vedic post :-)

mongoose yoni, hasta girlies and retro vibes 🐀💃🏼👯‍♀️

bimbos, venusians and mermaids 🧜🏼‍♀️👭

blackpink vedic analysis

a cool vedic post about symbols and motifs

snakes, scorpios and sex workers 🐍🦂

serpents, trophy wives and nose jobs 🐍🤰🏼👃🏼

angel imagery in vedic astro 👼🏼🧚🏼‍♀️

Jupiter & Notoriety ��

simple observations

vedic analysis of singers, fairies and cougars 👀 🎶🧚🏼‍♀️

BTS rising sign speculation

BTS & their celeb crushes

butterfly motif and vedic astrology 🦋

the astrology of big boobs and mistresses 🌕🌕

courtesans and great actors🥵🎭

actors, desirable women and muscle daddies 🎭💃🏼💪🏼

why are cancer girlies so in demand 🦀♋

muscle men and ingenues 🤪🧚🏼‍♀️😩

the spectrum of femininity seen through cancer rashi

beauty & the beast: the path of venus 😍🔥

nice guys, loners, unhappy childhoods 🤓🥰

Rosalia's Mrigashira influence 🐍

Abstract Art & Artists 🎨✨

Jupiter Influence on Korean Actors 🌟🧚🏼‍♀️🦋

The Astrology of Appearance

The Astrology of Appearance pt 2

The Astrology of Appearance pt 3

Decoding Venus

Beginner's Guide To Vedic Astrology

Pisces Influence on Kpop

Ashlesha: The Villain Nakshatra

The Cinderella Story

Mars & Sex

Hourglasses: The Astrology of Body Types ⏳🥵💃🏼

Astrology of Appearance: Yoni Animal Edition

Astrology of Muses

Cancer Girls & Baby Voice

Doll Beauty in Astrology

Jupiter vs Moon

Revati's Magic

Moon conjunct Ketu relationship dynamics

Nodal synastry moodboard

The Dark Side of Jupiter

Tomie Kawakami is a Punarvasu

Wealth giving naks & Revati's kinky side

Appetite in Astrology

Mars, Sex & Celibacy

Why Venus exalts in 12h

The Absorbent Nature of Venus

The Ugliness of Venus

Houses in Astrology

The 12h & Its Vibes: A Detailed Analysis 🦋🧚🏼‍♀️

The 8h Saga 🌹✨🦇🌌

#astrology notes #vedic astro notes #astrology observations #astro notes #astro observations #sidereal astrology #astrology #astroblr #kpop astrology #vedic astrology #astro community #nakshatras #spirituality

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blurredcolour · 11 months

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The Witch of November

Summary: Jake and Bradley’s second deployment has you discovering a lot of things about yourself, including just how much the two men mean to you. Or When The Three Of You Realized What You Were.

Part of my Poly Hangster Universe. Read Part One - In Search Of Obliteration

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Jake “Seresin” Hangman x Female Reader [Hangster x Female Reader Polyamorous Relationship]

Warning: Angst, Mental Health Struggles, Nightmares, Lack of Appetite, Insomnia, Nail Biting, Stress-Induced Weight Loss, Anxiety, Unhealthy Coping Strategies, Difficult Discussions of Feelings, Rating – T.

Credit: Paramount Pictures

Word Count: 5120

The oldies playlist filled the quiet emptiness of the primary bedroom as you worked on folding the last of Bradley’s shirts into the storage tote. It was a poor replacement for the usual sounds of life that filled Jake and Bradley’s home, conversation, laughter, activity, but the songs from the 60s and 70s brought a continuity in their absence.

You smiled softly as you pulled another of his father’s tropical button-up shirts from the drawer, taking extra care as you folded the sleeves down the back, barely registering the song change to Gordon Lightfoot’s The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.

The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down Of the big lake they call Gitche Gumee The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead When the skies of November turn gloomy With a load of iron ore twenty-six thousand tons more Than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty That good ship and true was a bone to be chewed When the gales of November came early

It was difficult to fathom the next four months without them. They’d had two weeks’ notice – fourteen days to prepare you for the face that they were being deployed for sixteen weeks at sea. It was not their first deployment since your meeting at the liquor store. Not long after that dream-like night you had spent with them, followed by the sun-drenched afternoon spent with their squad in the sundress they had ordered via Postmates, their colleagues too polite to pry at their flimsy introduction of you as a ‘new neighbour’, they had left for ten days.

At the time you’d had no more than a superficial understanding of their profession. Of the peril in which they put themselves on a daily basis – even more so during missions. A few emails had been exchanged between the three of you then but before you even really had a chance to miss them, they had shown up with your apartment bearing take out. The outcome had been four orgasms and a noise complaint.

The ship was the pride of the American side Coming back from some mill in Wisconsin As the big freighters go, it was bigger than most With a crew and good captain well seasoned

This time, however, everything was different. Nearly six-months into your relationship – well, for starters you felt confident calling it that. Perhaps the three of you could have done a better job defining things, but they had given you a key to their house, and you had a toothbrush that lived in the cup with theirs in the ensuite bathroom. Spending most weekends, and the occasional weeknight there, you had successfully avoided another noise complaint and fallen into a very natural rhythm with them.

So, when their orders had arrived, it had been a rather rude awakening. An intrusion in the happy idyll your trio had built, but not altogether unexpected. You’d done a remarkable job convincing Jake, Bradley, and even yourself that you would be all right; that they had no reason to worry about you. And when they decided to once again use a property management company and put their home up for short term rental in their absence? You’d also convinced them to save some money and let you take that on for them.

After all, you had a key and the time, it would be no issue for you to finish packing their things away into the garage and then stop in to clean between rentals. Concluding some terms with a couple of steel firms When they left fully loaded for Cleveland And later that night when the ship's bell rang Could it be the north wind they'd been feeling The wind in the wires made a tattle-tale sound And a wave broke over the railing And every man knew, as the captain did too ‘Twas the witch of November come stealing

You snapped the lid shut on the tote, grabbing your phone and tucking it into your pocket, letting the song continue to play as you carried the last load down the stairs and into the garage. Sliding the box into place, your eyes scanned over the stacks of totes and racks of garment bags – two lives tidily packed away, on hold.

The words of the song, now slightly muffled by the fabric of your pants yet still audible, began to register in your brain and you pulled your phone from your pocket to hear them better. Unbidden, the images sung by the folk singer of a horrific storm began to flood your mind. A helpless ship filled with mortal men dwarfed by the fury of nature.

Two men, who meant a great deal more to you than you had the nerve to put into words as they wolfed down their breakfast that morning, in a vast ocean. How easily they could not return – swept aside by a cruel wave, attacked by a wrathful nation, or eliminated by something so utterly mundane as human error. How easily you could be putting their things away for the very last time.

The unwelcome thoughts tore through your consciousness and had you stumbling back into the door frame that connected the garage to the rest of the house, gasping for breath as tears blurred your vision. The sheer cruelty of your mind, parading the worst possible outcomes through your brain in vivid detail, had you pressing a hand to the centre of your chest, trying to calm your racing heart. You felt sick and acutely alone in a house that was suddenly much too spacious, listening to a song that was far too gloomy.

“Good god, get a grip girl.” You snarled tearfully at yourself before barking a laugh that even you would have to admit rang hollow against the concrete floor.

Shaking your head viciously to clear the morbid thoughts of peril at sea from your head, as though it were an etch-a-sketch needing to be reset, you turned your rush of desperate energy toward skipping the last of the song. Inhaling deeply through your nose as the much more upbeat Surfin’ USA by the Beach Boys took over.

“Better…It’s just day one…. You’ve got this…” You wiped at a few rogue tears that had stolen down your cheeks before doing one last check that everything was stored properly, locking up the garage and heading back into the house to finish cleaning.

One hour – and many deliberate song choices – later, you finished mopping your way out of the house, turning off the lights as you went. Setting up a door code for the guests set the arrive the next day, you headed home near ten, finding it surprisingly easily to fall asleep. The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait When the gales of November came slashing When afternoon came it was freezing rain In the face of a hurricane west wind When suppertime came, the old cook came on deck saying “Fellas, it's too rough to feed ya” At seven PM a main hatchway caved in, he said “Fellas, it's been good to know ya”

The problem reared its head once more in the inky blackness of the night, rain and saltwater lashing your face, stinging your eyes. You could hear Jake and Bradley screaming for you, their voices carried on the wind from opposite directions, impossible to pinpoint no matter how you twisted your body this way and that.

Something unseen collided forcefully with your body, plunging you into a dark, icy sea. You clawed futilely through the water, unable to discern up from down, left from right, as your lungs began to burn with the need for breath.

You thrashed yourself awake from your nightmare, fumbling with the switch on your bedside lamp, desperate for light to dispel the murk of the freezing water, movements still filled with the frenetic energy of a drowning victim. At last, the incandescent bulb clicked on, flooding the room with warm light, reminding you that you were in your bed…. safe….

But Jake and Bradley…. heaven only knew where they were. You hugged your knees to your chest and choked out a sob, feeling just as useless as you had in your dream. They could be screaming your name right now and there was absolutely nothing you could do to help them. In your weakened state, you were utterly defenseless against the onslaught of tears, so you simply turned your head to smother your ragged sobs into the plush of your pillow – not wanting to risk a noise complaint over this of all things.

The captain wired in he had water coming in And the good ship and crew was in peril And later that night when his lights went out of sight Came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald

Terror and theoretical grief and something that you still stubbornly refused to name despite all evidence to its confirmation wrung every last tear from your body until your eyelids were swollen and heavy with irritation. Pulling your exhausted frame from the tangle of sheets and sodden pillows, you trudged to the bathroom to rinse your face, wincing at the person staring back at you in the mirror.

You had done such a good job of convincing Jake and Bradley, of convincing yourself, that you would be all right in their absence, that this sudden burden of anxiety and gut-wrenching fear felt like a betrayal to your own self. You were an adult. You understood what it meant to date a Navy man. Yet here you were, crying your eyes out about things you had absolutely no control over. Over things you were proud of your boys for doing.

So whatever selfish childishness had suddenly possessed you, it had to be quashed with brutal efficiency. It would be wildly unfair for either of them to even sense that you were struggling and the simplest solution to that was you just had to stop it right now. Despite the ruthless glare you were delivering yourself in the glass of the bathroom mirror, however, that traitorous body of yours had somehow found the wherewithal to produce fresh tears to send rolling down your hot cheeks.

“Fuck…” you croaked, sinking your face into your hands.

Does anyone know where the love of God goes When the waves turn the minutes to hours

Three weeks, two days, and five hours. Despite sending them an email every day, you did not hear from Jake or Bradley for three weeks, two days, and five hours after they left you at their house that morning. It was more than enough time for your nightmare to bloom into full grown neurosis.

Stern pep-talks in the mirror were a non-starter, so you began addressing the inevitable sleep issues with melatonin gummies. And when those produced nearly every side-effect on the bottle? Over-the-counter pain killers. The terror still managed to find you, however, even in your chemically enhanced sleep, and a set of dark circles took root beneath your eyes. Your make-up kit expanded, and your routine became longer to hide them.

You threw yourself into your job, desperately trying to fill every waking moment with activity, treading water above the yawning darkness of dread that lay just below the surface. Between overtime hours and managing Jake and Bradley’s house as a rental – cleaning between renters and being on call for any issues that may pop up – you had little time for socializing. Which suited you just fine, because you knew those who cared about you would see through your thinly veiled disguise of make-up and busyness and you were most certainly not ready for a real conversation about what was going on.

You were idly nipping at a hangnail on your index finger as you reviewed a client’s file when your phone buzzed with an email notification and you gasped audibly when their names popped up, making your co-worker shoot you an inquisitive glance.

“Sorry…” You whispered with a wince, scooping the phone off your desk and diving into your email app to read through their joint reply four times before finally exhaling in relief.

They were well. They were tired, but they were alive and missed you and appreciated your emails. You hugged your phone to your chest, not caring how dramatic it might look to your already suspicious colleague, a few tears of joy gathering along your lower lashes.

The searchers all say they'd have made Whitefish Bay If they'd put fifteen more miles behind her They might have split up or they might have capsized They may have broke deep and took water

The relief that one email brought was short-lived, affording one, maybe two good nights of sleep before you were plunged back into your cycle of agony. Your stomach grew averse to, and disinterested in, all food save your favourite ice cream, and after throwing out your fourth meal-prepped lunch you surrendered to its demands and proceeded to subsist entirely upon cartons of that.

You lost weight. Everyone seemed eager to tell you how good you looked as a result of it, which only seemed to twist the knife that had taken up residence between your ribs a little tighter. The circles beneath your eyes grew darker and your make-up kit expanded yet again. With all that you were juggling, you somehow failed to notice that you had chewed your nails raw – a self-soothing technique thoroughly acknowledged by the scientific community, but an action you remained blind to.

There were more email replies, with the promise of some possible phone connectivity in the coming weeks, but you were entirely immune to joy now…feeling not unlike a hollowed-out shell of yourself, filled with the black and white static of a television station that lost its signal.

And all that remains is the faces and the names Of the wives and the sons and the daughters

You were fighting with the first corner of the fitted sheet on the primary bed, the bed the three of you usually shared, when your phone started ringing with an unknown number. Releasing the stubborn fabric, you let the elastic spring back into place, mattress frustratingly bare as you picked up.

“Hello?” You answered, expecting it to be the couple slated to arrive tomorrow afternoon.

“Pretty girl, holy shit it’s so good to hear your voice.” Rooster’s rasped statement hit you like a physical blow to the chest, and you stumbled to a seat on the bed.

“Bradley?” Your voice waivered pathetically and you cleared your throat painfully. “Hey! Hey, it’s so lovely to hear yours.” You continued in a much sunnier, confident tone, scouring the tears from your eyes roughly with the heel of your palm.

He sighed your name warmly, but you did not miss the exhaustion that coloured his tone.

“Fuck, I am so sorry it’s taken this long to be able to call, I swear to god I’ve never been on communications blackout this long before. Everything ok?”

“Just great, well…I miss you both so much, but the rentals are running smoothly and work’s going fine, and the weather never changes here so I don’t have any complaints.” You were sure to smile, just like they taught you at work, so the happy tone would carry through the phone line. “You guys doing all right?”

“We are, you perfect woman, we are. Jake’s right here, falling asleep against the wall. Let me pass him the phone.”

There was some muffled scrambling against the receiver before Jake drawled your name, sounding even more exhausted than Bradley.

“Hey Jake, how’re you doing? You showing them all who’s the best?” You forced a grin, hoping to give him extra encouragement by stroking his ego.

“You know it, pretty girl. Me ‘n Rooster here are kicking all their asses…You promise to be extra desperate for us when we get home?”

You mustered a giggle for him, extremely thankful it was only a phone call so you could keep your expressions to yourself.

“You know it, Hungman…”

“Jesus Christ, I miss you…”

“Three weeks, Jake…” Not that you were counting, or anything.

“I can barely keep my eyes open pretty girl, I’m so sorry, I can’t wait to see you.”

“It’s ok Jake, please go get some rest, ok? I’ll see you soon.”

He murmured his goodbyes before Rooster came back on the line.

“Hey pretty girl, I’m not much longer for this world either.”

“I really appreciate you two taking the time to call me. I’ll see you both in three weeks.”

“Three weeks…” He sighed heavily. “I’ll try and email you our docking time and text you when we’re in the car ok?”

You had offered, initially, to drive them. To drop them off and pick them up, but the process for obtaining a pass was a lengthy one and though, none of you admitted it out loud, would have involved defining your relationship on paper. And so, they had departed in Jake’s pick-up truck, which was still waiting for them on base.

“Do what you can, have a good sleep, Bradley.”

“Night, pretty girl.”

You both stayed on the line a moment, listening to one another breathe, before he finally disconnected the call and you dissolved into tears as you sank onto the rug beside the bed.

Lake Huron rolls, Superior sings In the rooms of her ice water mansion Old Michigan steams like a young man's dreams The islands and bays are for sportsmen

With the final rental checked out, you had a week to put their house back together before Jake and Bradley returned home. You had been careful to write down where things had come from so that you could return them to their rightful place. You took to sleeping at their home so that when the inevitable nightmares or overthinking arrived, three am companions you had grown so very accustomed to over the past four months, you could simply roll out of bed and continue unpacking for them.

True to his word, Bradley managed to email you, letting you know they would be returning that Sunday morning. By Saturday noon, the house was in order, and you made a trip to the grocery store to stock their fridge so they could take it easy their first few days back. You made a special trip to their favourite bakery for some treats, as well, and when you ran out of things to do you went out and walked the beach. Your body was a sharp contrast of fatigue and nervous energy, everything inside you was screaming out for rest but your mind would simply not allow it to.

Your melatonin gummies only afforded you three hours of sleep that night, leaving you pacing about the house like a zombie until the last of it cleared your system. You showered and put on your makeup, carefully ensuring the dark circles were covered. You put on one of their favourite dresses, hoping they wouldn’t notice that it was a little looser on you than before. Or perhaps, like everyone else, they would applaud your new figure.

Setting up the coffee, you held-off starting the brew cycle, waiting for the text to arrive from Bradley that they were on their way home from the base, wanting it to be as fresh as possible. You nearly jumped out of your skin as your phone vibrated with the notification, sliding off your seat at the island and pressing start button before doing one last circuit of the house, unable to sit down.

You were just setting out their favourite mugs on the stone countertop when you heard the engine of Jake’s truck pull into the driveway, rushing to open the front door. Bradley was halfway up the walk when you yanked it open, covering the last of the distance in two long strides before bending his knees to hoist you up into a bone-crushing hug. You squealed as in his excitement, or perhaps his misjudgement of your weight, you shot up higher than expected. Jake laughing brightly as he jogged over, wrapping his arms around both of you tightly as Bradley set your feet back on the concrete walkway.

Nestling your face between their bodies, you inhaled deeply, fingers curling into the fabric of their clothing as you savoured the fact that they were present, they were real, they were alive. Jake shifted back and hooked a finger beneath your chin, coaxing your face up. You smiled at him tremulously, blinking back tears as he leaned in to press his lips to yours firmly. Sighing deeply into the kiss, your fingers sought Bradley’s curls, sinking your fingers into his hair affectionately as he patiently waited his turn, his hands running along your sides, massaging your hip, your butt.

Gasping against Jake’s lips as Rooster’s hand gave a particularly greedy squeeze, you pulled back to press your lips to his, a shiver rolling through your entire body at the feel of his facial hair against your upper lip.

“You wore our favourite dress, pretty girl…” You heard Jake murmur against your shoulder, his fingers toying with the hem. “Mmmm we should get you inside before the neighbours get jealous.”

Reluctantly, you allowed them to pull back and gather their things from the truck, leading them inside.

“That coffee smells amazing…” Jake sighed, setting his bag down at the foot of the stairs.

“Let me grab you a cup.” You nodded and quickly moved into the kitchen, filling Jake’s mug and setting it down to reach for Bradley’s.

In your haste to be of service to them, you had misjudged the edge of the counter, the coffee cup wobbling precipitously before tumbling over to smash on the tile, splashing hot liquid and broken ceramic in all directions.

“Fuck!” The curse flew from your lips, and you quickly set the coffee pot back onto the element before bending down to pick up the sharp shards with your bare hands, thoroughly irritated with the mess you had made of the freshly cleaned floor. Not to mention the fact that you had just destroyed Jake’s favourite mug. “Shit, shit, shit…” You hissed, collecting pieces of crockery in your palm, sniffling in a stubborn attempt to hold back your tears.

A pair of arms wrapped around your waist and hauled you back against a strong, broad chest.

“Careful pretty girl, you’re going to hurt yourself…” Bradley’s gravelly voice filled your ears, and you opened your mouth to protest that you were just fine when an ugly sob tore from your throat.

You slapped your free hand over your mouth, mortified, biting down hard on the inside of your cheek in an attempt to stop any more of those from escaping. You felt Bradley tense behind you and saw one half of the look he shared with Jake reflected on the blonde’s face through the stubborn stream of tears in your eyes.

“Ok pretty girl, it’s ok, just a mug all right?” He drawled, carefully taking the broken shards from your hand and setting them on the counter.

“Why don’t you go upstairs with Jake while I take care of this, and we’ll have coffee in bed hmmm?” Rooster soothed and you managed a nod, not really meeting Jake’s eyes, but you could see the furrow of concern on his brow as he pulled you close, tucking you against his side. He led you up the stairs, hand on the small of your back, and into the ensuite bathroom.

“Let’s get you cleaned up hmmm?”

You sniffled and blinked at his words, glancing at the mirror and wincing at the state of your makeup. You grabbed your toiletries bag, opening it up to find your remover wipes, but before you had a chance to get started, he had set you on the counter between the double sinks, your back pressed against the mirror. One broad hand came to rest on your knee, his thumb rubbing warm, soothing circles on your skin as he pulled out the bottle of melatonin first. Then the painkillers. Followed by the eye drops to help with your dry eyes from the constant crying. These items he lined up on the counter one at a time, his face unreadable. And farther below Lake Ontario Takes in what Lake Erie can send her And the iron boats go as the mariners all know With the gales of November remembered

At last Jake produced the make-up removing wipes and turned to you with a gentle, patient expression as he carefully removed the layers of makeup you had become accustomed to painting on every morning to hide the ravages of the nighttime hours on your face. By the time he had cleaned it all off, your eyelids fluttered open to see Bradley leaning in the doorway quietly watching you.

You had spent more time unclothed with the pair of them than anyone in your life and yet you had never felt so naked in their presence before. You tried to avoid their eyes, to focus on your hands in your lap, but Jake caught your chin with his thumb and forefinger, raising your gaze once more to meet his. There was unconcealed concern there, now, and you watched his adam’s apple bob with a pronounced swallow.

“What’s going on, pretty girl…” He tacked your name onto the end of his question, adding a level of seriousness to the moment that had you squirming slightly and Bradley walking over to lean against the countertop beside you.

It was your turn to swallow painfully, groping for words to express just what the hell was going on, before you let out a huff.

“I’m ruining it…” You slumped back against the mirror in defeat, earning a raised eyebrow from each man. “You’re finally home for the first time in months and I’m ruining it…god I have no idea what I’m doing…” You scrubbed a hand down your tired face, dark circles beneath your eyes laid bare by Jake’s handiwork, and began to gnaw on your thumbnail thoughtfully.

There was another look shared between the pair of them, but this time you could see the concern shared in their gazes. There was an element of knowing something held in that look. Something they weren’t saying aloud. It irked you, made you even more annoyed with yourself for being so broken that you couldn’t even welcome them home properly.

“I’m supposed to be having amazing reunion sex with you both right now to make up for the fact that you’ve been gone, and I can’t stop crying…” you wiped at your face angrily before Jake caught your hand in his, lacing your fingers together and squeezing gently.

“You think we would ignore the fact that you’re not ok just because we want you, pretty girl?” He gently kissed away a fresh tear as it stole down your cheek.

Your eyes flitted over towards Bradley as he brushed away another tear on your opposite cheek with the backs of his fingers, treating you with more kindness than you had shown yourself in weeks.

“Please…what’s going on…” He rasped, voice roughened further by emotion, his brow furrowed.

In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed In the Maritime Sailors' Cathedral The church bell chimed ‘til it rang twenty-nine times For each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald

You glanced between the pair of them, filled with trepidation, but quite honestly holding back these words had not served you in the least, so perhaps releasing them might at the very least provide some relief.

“My dumb ass has gone and fallen in love with two men with one of the most dangerous jobs in the world and I have no idea what I’m doing…” You exhaled in surrender, eyeing their faces intently to see how they might react as a hurricane of butterflies erupted in your stomach.

There was silence for a moment, and your worried that you had been too cryptic or too forward, until a flicker of hope dawned as smiles began to tug at their lips. You gasped as they both leaned forward at the same time, aiming for the opposite corners of your lips. It was awkward and claustrophobic and yet it felt so incredibly right to share a kiss between the three of you simultaneously. Sliding your arms around their necks, you held them close as they clung to you so tightly you felt as though they might have a decent chance of fusing your broken pieces back together.

“I love you, too.” Bradley whispered against your cheek, making you shiver in delight as Jake murmured your name adoringly.

“Love you both.” He grinned, not to be outdone.

“I’m really…sorry that I’m such a mess, please don’t…blame yourselves I…”

Bradley shook his head firmly.

“But we are to blame. At the very least, partially. We left you alone for the first time by yourself with nothing…pretty girl, will you ever forgive us?”

“Of course I forgive you!” You said quickly, kissing him firmly and wiping at a few of his tears that had slipped from the corners of his eyes.

“You were far too convincing, I promise to be a lot more skeptical in the future.” Jake teased but shook his head, assuming a more serious expression. “You’re our partner and we’re going to do a much better job of this going forward, ok?”

You gave him a watery smile and hauled him in for a firm kiss of agreement. They ushered you into your pajamas and the three of you curled up in bed, Bradley and Jake enjoying their coffee and baked goods with you sandwiched tightly between them as they regaled you with stories of their travels. Warm, safe, and contented, you found your eyelids drooping heavily. Jake’s hand rubbing soothing circles on your back and Bradley’s fingers tracing the features of your face were not making it any easier to stay awake.

“Sleep…” One or both of them whispered, and you made a soft noise of protest but were otherwise helpless against the rising tide of exhaustion.

You awoke to a bedroom painted in the hues of sunset, snuggled tightly into Bradley’s chest, the scent of pizza filling the air.

“That smells good…” You sighed drowsily.

“You hungry, pretty girl?” Jake drawled, the bed dipping and jostling as he walked closer on his knees, carrying pizza boxes over as you slowly sat up, nodding as a jaw-cracking yawn took over your body. “Good, let’s get some meat back on your bones.” The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down Of the big lake they call Gitche Gumee Superior, they said, never gives up her dead When the gales of November come early

With The Three of Us Masterlist

#hangster x reader #top gun angst #reader x rooster x hangman #hangman x reader #rooster x reader #hangman x rooster #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun imagine #top gun maverick fanfiction

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uncharismatic-fauna · 7 months

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Taming the Tiger Shark

The tiger shark (Galeocerdo cuvier) is a common sight for divers, fishermen, and tourists in the tropical waters of the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. They are often found around sea grass fields or coral reefs, and tend to prefer warm, shallower waters near the coastline or surrounding atolls and islands. The northern end of their range extends up to the northern borders of the United States and China, while their southern range reaches down to Brazil, Madagascar, and the eastern coast of Australia.

While they're slightly smaller than great whites, G. cuvier is still one of the largest carnivores in the ocean. Adults can grow up to 4.7 m (15 ft 5 in) long and weigh between 300 and 900 kg (700 and 2,000 lb). Females tend to be larger than males, but the two sexes are otherwise indistinguishable. Individuals are typically bluish gray or green, with a white or light yellow underbelly; this provides them with camouflage, as fish swimming overhead or below are unable to pick out the shark's silhouette against the dark or light background, respectively.

As an apex predator, G. cuvier has few predators of its own. Juvenile tiger sharks will often fall prey to other sharks, including adults of their own species. Orcas are also occasionally known to prey on tiger sharks, but these occurrences are rare. In their own food chain, G. cuvier has a large appetite and will eat almost anything. Coral reef fish are a common target, though their speed and small size makes them harder to catch. More often tiger sharks will prey on cephalopods, crustaceans, sea snakes, turtles, sea birds, and a host of marine mammals like dolphins, dugongs, sea lions, and young, injured, or dead whales. Inadvertently, tiger sharks will also consume garbage such as bottles tires, earning them the nickname 'The Garbage Can of the Ocean'.

Tiger sharks are primarily active at night. Contrary to other sharks, G. cuvier has excellent eyesight, as well as a keen sense of smell. In addition, tiger sharks have two special sensory organs. The lateral line extends down the length of the body and can detect minute vibrations in the water. Ampullae of Lorenzini are small electroreceptors located on the snout; these detect the weak electrical impulses generated by prey. All these features make it easy for tiger sharks to find a meal, and once located their body shape allows them to put on a burst of speed and make quick turns to catch their target. Most of the time, this hunting practice is done alone, but occasionally groups of tiger sharks will gather to scavenge a large carcass or for the mating season.

Male tiger sharks mate every year, while females only reproduce every three years. Breeding seasons differ based on location; in the Northern Hemisphere mating occurs between March and May, while in the Southern Hemisphere it's between November and January. During this time, dozens or even hundreds of sharks may gather to find mates. Females carry their young for up to 16 months, at which time they give live birth. Tiger sharks are ovoviviparous, meaning that eggs are fertilised and hatch inside the mother; this species is also unique in that they employ a technique called embryotrophy, in which young gestate in sacks which are filled with an embryonic fluid. A single litter of tiger sharks may contain between 10 to 80 pups, and each one may live up to 12 years in the wild.

Conservation status: The IUCN has classified the tiger shark as Near Threatened. While exact numbers are unclear, a great many tiger sharks are killed each year for their skin, fins, and liver. This species also has a reputation for vicious attacks, and while they can be aggressive when threatened, only a handful of shark attacks occur each year.

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Photos

Neil Hammerschlag

Brian Skerry

David Snyder

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gumnut-logic · 2 months

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Sweetapple Slice 9

Alexander Sweetapple series

This isn't much because I'm tired and it's nearly midnight after a very long day, so don't expect much.

Inspired by the slightly evil @womble1 How dare they dangle a concept in front of me like that. Things like this happen - though honestly, I don't think it is as good as it could have been if I had half a brain, but eh, it be fic.

Sometime in the future, I hope you enjoy.

-o-o-o-

Alex walked across the room and opened the huge window, letting in the tropical breeze.

The scents of Tracy Island were heady and he found himself breathing in deep. It helped calm his heart.

A bird squawked somewhere nearby and the ocean hissed beyond the dense pōhutukawa trees.

“Thank you, love.”

Alex turned back to Virgil, sitting up in bed, still pale, but so much better than he had been.

His partner must have seen something in Alex’s expression, because he gestured with one hand for Alex to return to him.

Alex didn’t hesitate, crawling across the bed to carefully slide in beside him, avoiding the healing injury in Virgil’s left thigh. He tried to ignore the yellowing bruises and healing abrasions scattered across Virgil’s bare chest, still hesitant to touch, afraid he might hurt him.

Virgil being Virgil, grabbed him with his right arm and drew him in close, kissing his hair. “You’re not going to hurt me. Stop worrying.”

Alex grunted, not willing to admit how much Virgil’s sudden injury and following illness had scared him.

One day they were planning a relaxing dinner in Sydney, of all places. Planning to watch the sun go down over the Harbour Bridge. Then half way through the afternoon, John had called, his voice parched.

Thunderbird One hit Māhia at speed and Alex had been airborne, halfway to London before he could knock two neurons together.

He’d never been to London before.

He still hadn’t really. He’d only been to that hospital, that room, with his seriously ill lover surrounded by family, not knowing if he would ever see those beautiful chocolate eyes ever again.

Scott was a man possessed.

Virgil had mentioned his big brother’s passion for his family. Through Alex’s own terror, he saw the man go from the calm professional to the desperate big brother.

Their father did his best to see to the eldest, but whatever he tried never seemed to be enough.

As for Alex…the days were filled with fear.

“I’m getting better, love. Please stop thinking about it.” Virgil drew Alex’s head down to his shoulder, stroking his hair gently.

Alex leant up and kissed his jawline.

He, too, was shirtless and Virgil’s warmth, both physical and spiritual, seeped in through Alex’s skin.

“What do you want to do today?” They had recently finished breakfast. Alex was ever so happy to see Virgil’s appetite return. He truly was getting better.

“I was thinking of doing a little knitting. Two’s stocks are getting low.” Virgil shifted a little where he sat.

Alex frowned. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Another shift. “Could you do me a favour?”

Alex sat up. “Of course.”

“There’s a bag, green, in that cupboard, second shelf.”

Sliding off the bed once again, Alex did as Virgil asked and found the bag. It was obviously a knitting bag. Metal needles clicked together as he picked it up and several balls of yarn peeked up through its drawstring top. Alex brought it back to the bed. “You never mentioned you knit.”

A half-smile. “It’s a thing.” Out came scarlet needles and a bright gold yarn. “Bit of a tradition.”

As he was speaking, Virgil started expertly casting on stitches.

Alex crawled back onto the bed, ever fascinated by what his love was capable of. “You are so much.”

Virgil stopped mid-motion, frowning just a little. “In what way?”

“Every time I think I know all your interests, you pop up with another one, and to top it all off, you’re proficient in all of them.”

A snort. “You can talk.”

“Yes, I’m an engineer, but that is all I am, Virgil. You? You are an engineer, a bloody brilliant one, mind you. A musician, an artist, a rescue operative and medic. You are so talented and skilled in so many professions…how are you possible?”

An arched eyebrow was pointed in his direction. “You are most certainly much more than just an engineer, Alex.” He reached up and stroked Alex’s arm. “So much more.”

Alex gave him the side eye, ever sceptical. “So what are you making?”

Virgil stared at him a moment before giving in and looking down at the mess of gold yarn in his lap. “Fish for a fish.”

“You’re making goldfish for Gordon? Why?”

“Because this time I was the one who was injured.”

“What?”

Virgil sighed. “We have a thing.”

Alex waited.

And waited. “A thing?”

“Gordon was seriously injured once. He needed some…motivation. So I taught him to knit.”

Blink.

Virgil obviously took that as a question. “He told me it was my turn to make fish.”

This was obviously another one of those Tracy-things Alex was never quite going to understand. The five brothers were a very closely knit bunch, pun intended, and sometimes they did things that defied explanation.

And this was likely one of them.

Alex sighed and curled up beside Virgil, prepared to sit beside him no matter what the man wanted to do. The last week had been hell and he thought that he had lost the one he loved. If that man now wanted to knit random gold fish for his quirky brother, he could knit as much as he liked.

Alex was just happy to have him safe.

As Virgil began to hum, relaxing into what he was doing, Alex let himself smile.

It truly was a beautiful sound.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #virgil tracy #alexander sweetapple #nuttyfic #virgil tracy/alexander sweetapple #romance #virgil whump

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crevicedwelling · 5 months

Note

Do you have any advice on what kind of fishfiod to feed isopods? Mine aren't taking flakes, but they do seem to take catfish tablets. Is there any other fish/pet food that isn't isopod specific they seem to like? I'm primarily looking for a source of protein they'll eat, as they do take vegetables and fruit

I have fed mine old dog food (unknown brand), koi pellets w/ weevils (unknown brand), old fish flakes, various stuff from Ken’s fish (I like their worm flavor sticks) and they have eaten all of it. if they’re eating the tablets go with that. I have decided to stick with the Ken’s stuff since it seems fair quality and is relatively cheap if you’re buying it for land animals with tiny appetites

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otussketching · 6 months

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Fossil Novembirb: Day 14 - Lost in the Woods

As the global climate was cooling during the Oligocene epoch, tropical rainforests started to shift towards their current distribution in the tropics, and open landscapes such as scrubland was spreading. But that doesn't mean forests were disappearing. In places like Central and Eastern Europe, forests shifted from tropical to temperate. And in these shifting landscapes, birds continued to adapt and diversify.

Turnipax: One of the earliest known members of a relatively obscure bird groups called buttonquails. Despite their quail-like appearance and lifestyle, buttonquails are shorebirds related to gulls and sandpipers.

Palaeotodus: This small insectivore is one of the first known members of the todies, a bird group nowadays restricted to the West Indies.

Primotrogon: An early member of the trogons which had a very different shape compared to its modern relatives, including long wings, a short tail, and relatively small eyes.

Eurotrochilus: The first known true hummingbird, a group now endemic to the Americas, but first appeared in Europe.

Aviraptor: A thrush-sized true hawk with long thin legs and sharp talons, this was a prime predator of small forest birds in the Oligocene.

Wieslochia: One of the earliest known passeriformes, a group that likely evolved in Australia,parts of it's skeleton resemble certain South American passeriforms, like cotingas.

Rupelramphastoides: As the earliest known ramphastid, it was closely related to the barbets as well as toucans, but it bore a closer resemblance to the former.

Oligocolius: A bizarre relative of modern mousebirds that had an appetite for seeds, as the holotype was preserved with seeds in its crop and gullet. It also had a slightly parrot-like beak.

Laurillardia: A distant relative of hoopoes and hornbills, this long winged and long tailed bird used its sharp beak to catch insects.

Rupelornis: A close relative of albatrosses, these seabirds had delicate beaks and long legs. They probably had a similar lifestyle to storm petrels, which carefully pick food from the surface of the water.

#Fossil Novembird #Novembird #Dinovember #birblr #palaeoblr #Birds #Dinosaurs #Cenozoic Birds #Turnipax #Palaeotodus #Primotrogon #Eurotrochilus #Aviraptor #Wieslochia #Rupelramphastoides #Oligocolius #Laurillardia #Rupelornis

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bokutosmochi · 1 year

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I'M LOOKING RIGHT AT THE OTHER HALF OF ME ♡ BOKUTO KOTARO

bokuto kotaro x fem!reader

"two orders of ice cream sandwich for bokuto kotaro and anon please!"

ingredients? you and bokuto take a stroll through the park and meet two teenagers leading to a heartwarming misunderstanding.

what's it? fluff

allergen warnings? n/a

sugar level? 1.1k

regulars? @tokyometronetwork @tahonet

parlor's note? i made bokuto into the biggest animal lover here because,,, he seems like he would be one

bon appetit!

as much as msby's ace player loved volleyball, there were things about off season that he has grew to appreciate too; he could visit his junior akaashi, their batch of fukurodani graduates would hold their reunion around that time, and most importantly, he had more time to hang out with you. besides, just because it was volleyball's off season doesn't mean he couldn't play the sport he was in love with, right? you and him spent many hours of your free time playing it.

"i'm so glad you have so much more free time now, kou." you hummed, leaning your head against his bicep. you had an arm around his as the both of you strolled through tennoji park in osaka.

"me too, angel!" he beamed at you, his signature grin on his face and warming up your heart. you could feel the way he loved you through the way he looked at you alone, and the thought made your heart flutter wildly in your chest.

the park you were in was so beautiful and there were so many things you could do.

they hosted the tennoji zoo which your boyfriend was too happy to indulge in. you were worried his smile would cut through the skin of his face when he caught sight of the various animals they had.

he waved countless times at the animals they had in their animals of the african savanna zone. you noticed that he seemed to be particularly fond of the egyptian goose, the lesser flamingos, the giraffe, and the red panda. he found the spotted hyena's cackles to be contagious too.

after that section was the animals of the asian tropical rainforest zone. at first, you didn't think that you've ever seen bokuto as lively as he was looking at the animals in that section such as the egyptian rousette, the japanese raccoon dog - "oh my god, baby! look at how chunky he is!" he exclaimed, tugging at the sleeve of your shirt -, the siamang, and the brown kiwi. odd as it was, he also seemed weirdly intimidated by the lion-tailed macaque.

after that, you proceeded to the section that you thought he would be the most excited for -- the aviary zone. despite the fact that they did not have any horned owls, bokuto still had a soft spot for birds. several of the birds he liked he saw in the zoo today such as the little egret which he kept on saying hello to, the common mallard, and the chinese spot-billed duck. in the surrounding section, they also had polar bears, laughing kookaburras - which he shared a quick hoot with -, and california sea lions.

but what the real highlight of bokuto's zoo experience was going to their petting zoo. remember when you thought that bokuto has never been livelier as when he was visiting the asian tropical rainforest zone? you were wrong. he was much livelier petting and making friends with the noma horses, the long earred goats, and his personal favorite, the rabbits.

bokuto was next to vibrating when you exited the tennoji zoo. glowing and with a sparkle in his sunshine toned eyes -- it matched his personality, you thought.

"gahhh!! all the animals there were so cute! i can't wait to go to another zoo! maybe we can get a dog together too?? after all, we already live together, it's gonna be so fun!" he threw his hands up in the air. "i want a big dog! and i want it to be a rescue too so we can give the doggie a second chance!"

he looked at you with wide, hopeful eyes and tilted his head to the side "what do you think?" but before you could get a word out, you were interrupted by a fan of his.

"oh my god! bokuto kotaro of msby black jackals!"

two teenage girls ran up to the both of you wearing msby jerseys. one of them was wearing atsumu's with a skirt, and the other was wearing sakusa's with a pair of pants.

"we're such big fans of you!" the exclaimed when they stopped in front of you. "my little brother even started playing volleyball because of you! he said he wanted to be as cool as you."

bokuto thanked them for their support, and ever the great role model, offered to give the girl's brother a video message; there really was a reason why your boyfriend was always the one to be chosen by msby black jackals' pr team whenever an interview or a promotional video had to be done. everyone naturally gravitated towards him and his cheerful personality, and he's just generally very likable.

you thought that you were just going to be in the background like you always were whenever bokuto was approached by fans, but you thought wrong. "hello," they greeted you. "you and bokuto are always so cute. the way you support each other? ugh!" she squealed. the person she was with laughed at her friend's behavior. "it's true! you're literally relationship goals. i'm glad bokuto put a ring on it, you seem so sweet and genuine."

immediately, your face heated up and your eyes widened. "n-no, he hasn't put a ring on it. we're not engaged or married." you laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of your head as the two girls simultaneously went ohhhh. "well, that's just another tale of online news reporters spreading untruths, i guess." she shrugged. "i'm sorry for the misunderstanding. i hope the two of you have a good rest of your day." she bowed deeply before they both walked away.

you were about to turn to bokuto to share a laugh with him because of what just happened, when you were crushed to his chest. he gave you the type of hugs you usually received whenever you take him to the airport for an away game, or the type gives you after away games that he couldn't bring you to. his signature bokuto bear hugs. "yet." he mumbled into your hair. "i haven't put a ring on it yet, but one day, you'll be mrs. bokuto! i swear you will!"

i get: reblog

you get: owl stuffed toy

#a date with u event #order of the day!#order up for bokuto!#one matcha mochi #with a side of coconut italian ice #bokuto fluff #bokuto x reader #bokuto x you #bokuto one shot #bokuto kotaro fluff #bokuto kotaro x reader #bokuto kotaro x you #bokuto kotaro one shot #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu one shot

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tribbetherium · 1 year

Text

Some new species from the wildlife of the marine biomes post.

The quillnob reefs, common in the shallow tropical seas around the equator, are a unique and distinctive biome that has gained prominence in the Temperocene. These clustered array of cathedral-like structures, with towers, crevices, tunnels and other structures that form ideal homes for hundreds of thousands of species, are comprised of a most peculiar building block: millions upon millions of sessile snails, filtering food particles from the water with feathery extensions of their gills.

Marine gastropods have exploded in diversity since the Glaciocene era, and the quillnobs are easily among the most unusal clade of them all. They have a unique life cycle with three distinct stages: upon hatching, the young are tiny and free-swimming, with only a rudimentary shell and swimming through undulations of the foot, much like the skwoids and pescopods. This stage is short-lived, however, as it only functions as a dispersal phase: within weeks, the young quillnob's shell develops and it settles down onto the sea floor, entering a crawling juvenile phase in which it very much resembles a typical sea snail akin to whelks and conches. Once it reaches sexual maturity, however, it will cement itself into a single spot with the aid of an adhesive mucous secretion: and never move from that place for the rest of its life, gaining sustenance from trapping and filtering plankton and detritus.

One very common and remarkable quillnob species is the clustered blueplume (Cirripodocochleus polygynus), abundant in shallow seas close to shore where food particles churned by the tides are in plentiful supply. It lives a three-stage lifestyle like most other quillnobs, but its most distinct feature are the arrangements of its clusters: a single large male in the center, with a black and white shell, and four to eight brown, smaller females clustered around its proximity. This is due to their periodic breeding season: crawling phase juveniles, hermaphroditic like most other snails, gather at the shallows at maturity, and anchor themselves in place. These early-comers mature into males, upon which they release pheromone signals to attract other juveniles to anchor next to them, which, in turn, mature into females. Permanently fused to one spot and unable to move, their clustered, harem-like arrangement ensures that they have a ready-available mate within reach, when the time comes to release sperm and eggs into the water.

Quillnobs face many dangers, being immobile, but their shells, equipped with opercula that close up the opening of the shell in a watertight seal, are defense enough against both predators and dessication when the tides withdraw, as, with two moons, HP-02017 has far more drastic tide changes than on Earth, with some tropical areas seeing differences of up to six meters in high tide and low tide. Quillnobs are well equipped to deal with these various challenges, but not against one particular threat: the candy-cane asterisk (Echinostellatocochleus rubralbus).

Asterisks are themselves also a kind of snail, with a foot divided into six grasping lobes equipped with powerful suckers that can pry apart their favorite prey: bivalves, quillnobs, and other shelled snails. They possess a sharp radula that can sneak into the shells of a clam or a quillnob, and cut the muscles that hold its shell closed, leaving it defenseless to feast at its leisure. Most asterisks occur sparingly, and thus have minimal effect on the quillnob reefs, but the candy-cane asterisk is another story entirely: it reproduces in vast quantities, producing up to half a million eggs per spawning, and it produces a lethal venom secreted from modified mucous glands and delivered by calcified spines on their bodies, which they advertise in warnings with bold, red-and-white coloration. Undeterred by most predators which give them a wide berth, and with a ravenous appetite that lets each individual devour as many as a dozen quillnobs a day, left unchecked, they can overwhelm a reef quickly if conditions are favorable--and strip it bare and lifeless within a matter of weeks.

Fortunately for the quillnob reefs, however, an unusual species serves as a vital balance to the fragile ecosystem: the pebble-faced stareater (Stellatophagus calcops). Stareaters are monisaurs, a group of marine rattiles that made their first forays to the water in the Glaciocene and became abundant, fully-aquatic species in the Temperocene. Most monisaurs feed on hard-shelled prey, such as bivalves and notiluses, but the stareater relishes asterisks: especially the venomous candy-cane asterisk. Well-protected by its armored facial scales, and a high tolerance for asterisk venom, the stareater is the candy-cane asterisk's only natural predator: and one that consumes it in such quantities as to keep its numbers in check. The stareater, thus, is a vital keystone species in the quillnob reefs: in areas where their numbers diminish, due to unfavorable climates or local predation, the quillnob reefs suffer in turn, with the candy-cane asterisks ravaging the landscape, the quillnobs being overhunted to extirpation, and the loss of habitat for many small prey species that indirectly affect predators higher up in the food web: a catastrophic cascade that snowballs from the action, or lack thereof, of one individual species.

The sunlit tropical shallows of HP-02017 are a haven for marine biodiversity, flourishing in a mixed habitat of seagrass meadows, coral reefs, quillnob reefs and small scattered patches of kelp forest. Shallow seas allow for abundant sunlight to reach aquatic plants and algae, and contribute to their abundant growth, which, combined with the circulating tides stirring up nutrient-rich deposits of water from deeper regions allows these areas to be full of marine life.

Various shrish, pescopods and skwoids call these coastal reefs home, and in turn provide differing rungs of the marine food chain with sustenance. Rodders, small aquatic fearrets of distant kin to the leviahams, forage omnivorously on flora and fauna alike, while seashingles, large marine rattiles, feast on the abundance of mockjellies that crowd the surface, especially the photosynthetic euryales.

But most abundant and diverse of the larger marine fauna are the bayvers: a group of marine hamsters descended from the beaver-like pondrats that have an incredibly convoluted evolutionary history. Some are fully aquatic, filling niches similar to cetaceans and sirenians, while other are semi-aquatic, resting on beaches and moving about on land like pinnipeds. Some are herbivorous, grazing on seagrass and kelp, while others are carnivores, chasing down and hunting the abundant shrish and pescopods that constitute much of their diet, and with cricetaceans included the bayvers also boast durophages, omnivores, scavengers, macro-predators and filter-feeders among their ranks. The relationships of these individuals vary: narwalruses descend from fully-aquatic ancestors that returned to an amphibious lifestyle, while walmuses, members of the otherwise herbivorous hamatee lineage, have become bottom-feeding durophages that feed on bivalves and quillnobs in addition to plants.

Perhaps one of the most striking of semi-aquatic Temperocene bayvers is the circled seabear (Phocursamys circulus), a large species that may reach three meters or more in length. Easily distinguishable by its prominent circular markings, the circled seabear has one of the most varied diets for the bayvers: it is an indiscriminate omnivore, and will graze on marine plants, crack open hard shells, consume the seed pods of seagrasses, hunt shrish and pescopods and, perhaps most remarkably, even actively prey upon smaller bayvers that it ambushes in the water. Only phorcas and sarchons outrank it in the marine food web, and in areas where those are uncommon the seabear rules as regional apex predator: but also part-time plant-eater as well. Where those even bigger predators live, however, the seabear is not exempt from their menu, and thus the seabear fills a new, intermediate rung in the food chain between other bayvers and the phorcas.

In coral-rich ecosystems, the seabear's diet may include monisaurs and sterapins: and this has quite a profound impact where one particular species is concerned: the reef corizard (Scopulosauromys latudon). Armed with chiseling incisors and broad crushing molars, it feasts avidly on coral and sponges, which can comprise a large percentage of their diet that also includes quillnobs, bivalves and the occasional shrab. While the presence of its relative, the asterisk-hunting stareater, is vital to quillnob reefs, the corizard's presence becomes harmful if they stay in one place too long. Constant pressure from seabears, which target the slower-swimming rattiles, keeps them vigilant and constantly on the move: preventing them from overeating one particular area and giving the coral some time to recover from their feeding.

The cold arctic seas of the north and south poles are among the harshest and most inhospitable regions of the planet. Isla Frigor in the south and the North Isles in the north are the only landmasses within the polar zones, but the seas, and abundant floating sea ice, are teeming with life of all shapes and sizes: including ones the world had not seen the like of for many eons.

The end of the Glaciocene spelled a mass extinction that coincided with the brief reign of the harmsters and sudden warming global temperatures almost right after, a double catastrophe that would spell the end of the great seavers: gigantic filter-feeders that thrived off the nutrient-rich upwellings of the cold seas that allowed them to attain incredible sizes. Soon, they all disappeared, save for one lone, lucky survivor: the stunted, southern-sea derelict seaver, but a mere fraction and relic of what its kin once were.

Yet time would be kind to the derelict seaver: struggling at first to survive, a series of fortunate events would herald their grand return. Marine hamatees would switch from filter feeding to grazing on water plants, freeing a niche the last of the water-sifters would take advantage of to spread far and wide once again. Some, reaching the polar regions with plenty of food and an evolutionary motivation to conserve heat, began growing larger, bit by bit. And thus, in a region that so perfectly mimics the worldwide oceans in the time of the Glaciocene, in stark, aquatic parallel to the hammoths and maustodons of North Westerna, the seavers would make a spectacular comeback to becoming once more immense creatures, culminating in what is with barely a doubt the biggest animal ever to grace the seas of HP-02017 with its presence: the marked whaleberg (Colossobalaenomys arcticus).

Identifiable by white keratinous callosities adorning its head and making it resemble an iceberg from the surface, and a pair of dark markings on its sides that play a part in intra-species recognition, the whaleberg is easily the largest the seavers have ever been in all of history: reaching weights of well over 180 tons and measuring 25 meters or more: larger than even the plurodons of the Glaciocene. Its immense size helps it better retain body heat in the frigid polar water, as well as take advantage of the massive blooms of zooplankton and tremendous shoals of arctic shrish, which amass in such abundant swarms as to provide a nigh-limitless resource able to sustain such giants. Like its ancestors, the marked whaleberg possesses expandable cheek pouches, lined with folds that allow them to expand and vaccuum up large quantities of small prey which in turn is strained out by a combination of its notched incisors and bristly whiskers when it then expels the water from its mouth.

The whalebergs are far too enormous for any predator to tackle, even the various species of arctic phorcas which prey on other, smaller species of bayvers and cricetaceans. While they rely on their size for defense, other species native to the polar seas have other, more unusual means to defend themselves from their enemies.

The cutlass warnal (Odontoceromyocetus melanus) is a species of the jousting bayvers and related to the semi-terrestrial narwalrus: however, unlike its relative, it is a fully-aquatic species that spends all its life in the sea. As a means of defense, both sexes sport a prominent, misaligned upper incisor that points forward and is enlarged into a tusk. Females have a small, downturned tusk, which they use in defense as well as probing for food on the sea floor, lashing at small shrish and pescopods to injure or stun them and make them easier to eat, and as a defensive weapon when attacked. Males, however, sport a far-longer tusk that curves upward instead, and is used for display, with larger and more-curved tusks being more appealing to potential mates, and also as a weapon, males clashing tusks as a show of display when they compete. They, however, resort mostly to using the side of the tusk as a blunt club when they joust, as opposed to the pointed end, as it could easily be lethal to both competitors if they use the tip as a stabbing weapon. The tusk, at roughly equal and seemingly random frequency, can either form from the left upper incisor, or the right upper incisor, with the opposite upper incisor grinding in-between both lower incisors to form a more typically-rodent-like gnawing bite. In the rare event that both upper incisors develop into tusks, the result is a poor prognosis, as such individuals are unable to chew properly and usually starve.

The warnals' tusk also comes with an unexpected bonus: it can also be used in piercing through floating marine carrion to access the nutritious blubber underneath the tough skin. When large seavers such as whalebergs die, their floating remains attract scavengers of all shapes and sizes, and the warnals, opportunistically, come to join in the feast. By helping in cutting through the carcasses' tough hides when they feed, they also make it more accessible to other scavengers to reach the softer tissues, speeding up the process of the floating remains to eventually sink and nourish in turn the seafloor ecosystem with a seaver-fall: one so massive it temporarily becomes a miniature ecosystem of its own.

Open-sea ecosystems are ever more widespread and abundant in the Temperocene as the reduction of sea ice has raised sea levels from the Glaciocene levels: and thus, about 80% of the planet's surface is now covered by ocean. While small seas punctuate the gaps between the continents, a massive ocean covering almost half the planet spans the gap between Arcuterra on its west and Gestaltia on its east, opposite the globe to Mesoterra: the single-largest ecosystem on the surface of HP-02017.

The open seas, sustained by currents that circulate warm and cold water throughout the surface and the deep levels, support biospheres reliant on the abundance of phytoplankton: microscopic photosynthesizers reliant on the sunlight of the surface, as well as the nutrients supplied by currents from the depths from organic substances that settle to the bottom only to be churned back up to the surface by ocean currents. From this simple mechanism all other life depends on to survive: the tiny plants of the phytoplankton feed the tiny animals of the zooplankton, which in turn become food for shoals of shrish and pescopods, which are prey for skwoids, shrarks, bayvers and seagoing ratbats and pterodents, and culminating in such large top megafauna such as cricetaceans, phorcas and sarchons. Thus even the highest rungs of the food chain are indirectly dependent on the currents of the open seas that allow phytoplankton to thrive in abundance, forming the basis of the marine food web.

This food web, however, has certain complexities that contribute greatly to its biodiversity as a staggering amount of niches are available for organisms to exploit. The direct consumers of zooplankton not only include small shrish and pescopods, but also among the largest of the Temperocene's fauna: the spectacular return of the giant seavers, whose kind almost vanished in the Glaciocene. The greater derelict (Neobalaenotitan borealis) is one of the most widespread species in the open ocean, reaching lengths averaging 18 meters or more. The warmer seas are less conducive to cold upwellings that made the Glaciocene oceans so productive, yet the greater derelict compensates by being nomadic, traveling long distances to exploit food sources far and wide. During the span of a year, pods of greater derelicts may travel thousands upon thousands of miles between their feeding grounds and their breeding grounds: with some practically circumnavigating the entire globe during their travels as they seek out nutrient-rich hotspots where zooplankton and shoals of shrish gather, and where they can build up stores of fat to see them through during their long migrations where sometimes they are forced to fast for weeks at a time, sustained only by stored calories. As such, greater derelicts are picky eaters: they only target the largest shoals, as their feeding process uses up significant bursts of energy as they accelerate and lunge into the swarms to suck in prey. Smaller shoals, which would take a lot of energy to lunge into yet yield little payoff, are ignored, highlighting not only their means of conserving their energy, but their intelligence as well: able to recognize risks and rewards, as well as being a highly social species whose pods' members bond with each other, protect one another's calves, and even cooperate to feed, blowing rings of bubbles from beneath to confuse and corall huge shoals of shrish before all simultaneously lunging from beneath in coordinated sync.

Smaller cricetaceans are also found in great numbers in the open seas: primarily, of the smaller, faster ones two groups are most prominent: the porpoids, the eyelash porpoid (Melanopcetomys lineoculus) being the most common species, and the roddolphs, one of the most widespread being the painted roddolph (Pintadelphinomys varicolor). The two groups coexist by virtue of there being two very-different clades of small fish-analogues that shoal in great numbers: a hard-shelled crustacean and a soft-bodied mollusk. The roddolphs, thus, developed long, narrow snouts with conical-cusped teeth for grabbing squishy, slippery prey, while the porpoids have shorter, thicker jaws with broader teeth, ideal for cracking exoskeletons. This niche partitioning allows both to coexist with minimal competition, and both clades of cricetaceans are highly successful in their pelagic home: their adaptability, social intelligence, and cooperation being major assets in their survival in the nigh-endless open waters.

But hamsters don't hold sole monopoly over being large sea-life: the shrish and pescopods themselves boast some rather larger species as well, even if nowhere near as large as the sizes a creature with an endoskeleton can achieve. The giant ribbonray (Megalopescochleus ceruleus) is one of the largest pescopods, able to reach lengths of up to three meters. Large schools of them gather in the surface of the tropical oceans during the early mornings and late evenings, where, propelled by their undulating ribbonlike foot-fins, they cruise along just beneath the surface trawling for drifting zooplankton using their brushlike lower tentacles and bristly radula. While not particularly fast creatures, they are impressive leapers: breaching above the surface to heights of up to twice their body length, as a means to shake off irritating parasites, for confusing predators, and advertising their strength and fitness to prospective mates in the breeding season.

Coastal wetlands are one of the most widespread biomes to emerge in the Temperocene, as the rising sea levels flooded many low-elevation areas along the borders of the continents. With the rise and pull of two moons giving powerful pushes and pulls to the tides, the ocean surf periodically surges into these basins and cycles them with nutrients, mixing with freshwater deposits of rain and inland rivers: making the brackish waters of the wetland a productive environment for plants to grow, and for a diverse array of wildlife to take up residence.

Hamatees, herbivorous bayvers, graze in its shallows and feast upon the abundant plantlife, while long-legged wanderganders stalk the shallows, wading in ankle-deep water to sneak up on shrish, pescopods and the amphibious squoads, which are very abundant in the wetlands and form a significant part of the local food web. Here the creatures of the land and the creatures of the sea come closer than anywhere else, as on various continents, transient, terrestrial herbivores as diverse as ungulopes, piggalo, walkabies, boarochs and podotheres visit these wet environments to exploit the bounty of soft, nutritious water plants, including reed-like grasses, stunted shrub-like stonefruit trees, and floating clovers similar to lilies or duckweed.

But perhaps the most remarkable resident of the coastal wetlands is a descendant of the derelict seaver that, in opposing spite of the whalebergs and their kin, have grown smaller, as opposed to bigger, to escape aquatic predators in the deeper sea and seek shelter among the plants in the shallows. Thus, like the hammoths, reduced to small survivors in the face of a mass extinction, some would return to their titanic former glory: but others would commit to their miniaturization and become ever smaller still.

Smallest of these is the dwarf marsh seaver (Minimubalaenomys nana), which grows to lengths of only three to four feet: less than a hundredth of the size of its enormous arctic cousins. Dwarf marsh seavers are gregarious bottom feeders, using the filtering mechanisms their ancestors used to strain out shoals of shrish and zooplankton in the sea to instead forage on the bottoms of muddy riverbeds, consuming worms, insect larvae, crustaceans and other small invertebrates burrowing in the mud, feeling for them using its sensitive whiskers and sucking them in by generating suction with its expandable cheek pouches. Lacking molars entirely, the dwarf marsh seaver has re-evolved a novel new way to "chew" its food: with the use of rough serrations on its tongue and palate that allow it to grind up its meals even without the need for teeth.

These dwarf seavers share these swampy wetlands with their nearly-unrecognizable distant cousins: the pondrats. Early forms hailing back all the way from the Rodentocene, these basal members of the duskmice gave rise to the bayvers and later the cricetaceans: though these more-primitive forms continued to coexist alongside their derived kin. They possess webbed feet and water-resistant fur, but are still very terrestrial creatures, with functional hind legs able to walk on land: hind limbs that, due to their lack of tails, had fused together to form a mimic fluke in the bayvers and cricetaceans that would significantly impair their locomotion on land to clumsy belly-flops and, to some, leave the land entirely and become fully marine.

Some of these basal pondrats, such as the speckled lutter (Acaudalutromys punctus) are carnivores, hunting shrish, pescopods and squoads with their pointed, rear-curved teeth and dexterously prehensile forepaws, propelled through the water by powerful, simultaneous strokes of their hind legs with webbed forelimbs used for steering. Others, such as the broadmitt mudchuck (Griseocastor magnocheirus) are herbivorous, feeding on roots, submerged stems, and aquatic cloverferns, and propelled instead by their broad webbed forelimbs: in some species bearing webbing so extensive that on land they walk on their knuckles to avoid tearing the membrane. Broadmitt mudchucks, specifically, are an important keystone species of the coastal wetland, as their constant grazing prevents the overgrowth of fast-growing water plants that can choke the water currents and stagnate the water, depriving other vegetation of nutrients. This dietary diversity of the pondrats, with herbivores, carnivores, and omnivores all across the spectrum of carnivory and herbivory, carries over to their larger marine relatives, with some grazing on seagrass and coast kudzu, others pursuing small bite-sized prey, and others tackling quarry their own size or larger.

Seagrass groves are among the diverse and unique marine biomes that have emerged in the Temperocene with the abundance of tropical shallows, accessible to plenty of sunlight, that allow photosynthetic producers to grow and thrive in incredible quantities and diversity, as to seem almost an underwater jungle. And with the rich diversity of flora in the Temperocene seas, the comparison to a jungle or rainforest is more than superficial, for it too has distinct layers: down at the seabed is the "forest floor", where moss-like algae grow attached to rocks, higher up being the "understory" comprised of a mix of true seagrasses as well as kelp that can reach lengths of five feet or more, and the "canopy" being tall seagrass species that reach all the way up to the surface in the race for sunlight, towering above the rest of the plants. Their tops, bobbing on the surface of the ocean, sometimes snag floating mats of coast kudzu: forming an "emergent layer" when they accumulate above the seagrass groves.

Unsurprisingly, animals by the thousands flock to the seagrass groves to exploit its bountiful resources and relative safety, with the ever-present shrish and pescopods dominating the lower rungs of its food web. Some shrish form eusocial colonies like ants or bees, dwelling within the hollows of seagrass stems like termites, while specialized pescopods, feeding from the flowers of seagrass swim from bloom to bloom, fertilizing them almost like marine analogues of butterflies. Hamatees frequent these locales as well, and are crucial in trimming the canopy and emergent layer with their grazing, preventing them from out-shading plants lower down and starving them of sunlight.

But easily one of the most intriguing adaptations of the marine flora is their production of seeds, much like plants would on land: while ancestral seagrass depended on currents and waves to pollinate their flowers and spread their seeds, the larger species, like undersea fruit trees, have instead begun producing large, edible pods that attract animals. This is a more direct means to ensure that pollen reaches one flower to the next and that seeds are deposited far away from the parent to avoid competition and inbreeding, as opposed to leaving it all to chance with the random, unpredictable motions of the tides.

These sea-fruit attract a wide array of visitors, searching for a meal. Golden sterapins (Aurochelymys longiceps) cruise the shallows at a leisurely pace, feeding mostly on mockjellies like other sterapins do but also supplementing their diet with aquatic vegetation like kelp and seagrass. They are one of the primary seed dispersers of the sea-fruit, as they are nomadic and can travel great distances as they migrate, making them an ideal candidate as a vector for seed dispersal. Feeding eagerly and ravenously on the fleshy pods when they come into season, the golden sterapins then carry the seeds along in their stomachs for long journeys that can at times measure hundreds of miles, eventually dropping them off when they relieve themselves--often far, far away from where the seeds originally sprouted. Here, even a few seeds can be enough to establish a new seagrass grove, as they, like land grass, spread with rhizomes, allowing them to propagate quickly and turn barren seafloor within the sterapins' migration routes into meadows and later forests in the span of only a few months.

It isn't only sterapins that are drawn in by the fruit pods, however. Hard at work, clambering about on the stems and branches, are searrels, such as the speckled searrel (Thalassosciurus phocimys), busily harvesting the pods and carrying them away. The tiny, herbiviorous bayvers, of distant kin to the hamatees, store the seeds in nooks and crannies in the sea floor, hidden under rocks or beds of algae, and nest on the floating mats of coast kudzu that float on the surface, sometimes roosting in great numbers for protection. Their foreflippers, their main means of propulsion when swimming, are equipped with one hooked claw each, and their steering rear-flippers together are prehensile like a two-pronged pincer, allowing them to cling onto seagrass stems to forage, hide and anchor themselves against currents. Their seed-burial also helps the local ecosystem: most are recovered and consumed, but a few are forgotten and lost: and are then left to germinate in favorable locations. Thus they, in essence, fill a niche akin to typical rodents like furbils and duskmice: albeit in a marine environment.

Searrels are highly gregarious as, being only a few inches long, they are vulnerable to a wide slew of predators, such as pterodents, larger bayvers and even certain skwoids. To survive the seagrass groves' many dangers, they live in groups numbering up to over several dozen related individuals and build communal lodges out of floating coast kudzu and plant material they haul back into their nest. Born two or three at a time after a month-long gestation, pups are fed a very thick, fatty and nutritious milk and are weaned within days, with the mother then leaving them at the lodge while they go out to forage. They are fully furred and open-eyed at birth, but are unable to swim for another few weeks: during which time they are reared communally by the group and fed regurgitated food by other members of the colony. Members are related, meaning they propagate their genes by caring for their kin, and, with a high mortality rate for foraging mothers, it ensures a greater survival chance for any orphaned pups whose mothers fail to return alive, provided they have already successfully weaned from milk.

And indeed many adults are lost during the breeding season, falling prey to one of the searrel's major enemies: the kelpgrove sterpent (Marinophiomys dipunctus), a marine burrowurm whose ancestors first originated in the seavannahs of the Fragmian Sea but have since spread and diversified worldwide wherever seagrass is abundant. To more easily move through the water and negotiate dense tangled vegetation, these burrowurms have long since lost their rear limbs and tail hook that most land-dwelling burrowurms still possess for locomotion. Their forelimbs, bearing their lethal stinging claws, are retained, however, and are now held tight along the sides of the head, almost like an extra set of jaws. Their sting-claw folds neatly into the forelimb when not in use, but springs out to grab onto prey when hunting. Shrish, pescopods and other marine invertebrates comprise much of its diet, but one favored prey are searrels, which they ambush among sea-fruit groves while they forage for food. They are even on occasion persistent enough to invade searrel nests to attempt to snatch the youngsters inside. However, the searrels do not go down without a fight: they are highly territorial and use their sharp teeth and foreclaws to retaliate in groups, mobbing both sterpents trying to attack their young--and also herbivorous hamatees that see their floating abode of chewed-up seagrass as a prospective meal.

Beachpeach, a semi-marine coastal stonefruit, has created a bizarre new biome in the days of the Temperocene. A forest straddling the sea, the beachpeach grows and thrives where other trees cannot. Its stilt-like roots allow it to respire even in high tide, its tissues are largely impermeable to salt to prevent dessication, and its moisture-rich, buoyant fruits are able to float in water and ride along on waves and currents until it is deposited in a favorable shoreline where it can germinate: enabling beachpeach to spread far and wide. Beachpeach forests are havens for a wide range of wildlife, with its roots being ideal anchoring spots for quillnobs, and their tangled masses safe hiding places for shrish and pescopods. Up above in the canopy, arboreal creatures thrive too, terrestrial tree shrabs nesting in epiphytes and pterodents and ratbats roosting in the branches. The beachpeach forest thus is dominated by arboreal and aquatic alike, a place where the trees meet the seas. And in this marriage of the ocean and forest, some species have adapted to exploit both.

Sunkeys, such as the broad-headed sunkey (Aquapithecomys macrocephalus), are a most unusual group of the lemunkies that are specialized swimmers but great climbers as well. Their coats are water-resistant, their fingers are webbed, excluding the opposable thumb, and their tails are broad and flattened like a paddle to enable them to propel them when swimming. They nest, breed and sleep in the trees, and forage in the water and among the trees' roots, feeding on leaves, fruit, insects, shrabs and quillnobs. The ripe, fallen fruit of the beachpeach, floating on the water's surface, are a favorite treat, and sunkeys relish both fruit and seed alike. This does little to dent the beachpeach population, as fruit are produced in such great numbers as to ensure that some would survive: making beachpeach fruit a main food source for many species of this biome. Omnivorous and adaptable, sunkeys can enter and leave either half of this biome with ease, leaping from branches into the water when threatened by aerial or arboreal threats, and scampering back up tree trunks when pursued by aquatic predators, such as some cricetaceans and bayvers that will opportunistically try to eat them if they can catch them. These are in contrast to their larger relatives, the merangutans, which have become far too ungainly to climb: while they still haul out onto exposed patches of land or tangles of beachpeach roots to rest or rear their young, they are almost entirely waterbound and instead deter predators with their size.

Dry land is few and far between in the expanses of beachpeach forests, and thus many semi-aquatic species make do with the exposed roots as nesting sites and resting stations. Small pondrats, such as the golden marshrat (Orolittoromys aureus) nest among the exposed roots of the beachpeach trees, where they rear their young hidden from prying eyes. Golden marshrats are omnivores that feed primarily on the fruits of the beachpeach but also on the quillnobs that attach to the tree roots, and their activity is essential to keeping the quillnobs from overwhelming the roots and suffocating the tree. Another, more specialized quillnob eater is the black seasel (Arbolutromys pelagoprunophilus), a species of rodder that eats primarily quillnobs as well as other, bottom-dwelling, hard-shelled prey. Though it has weak jaws and teeth, the black seasel gets by with a little ingenuity, using stones, driftwood, or exposed roots for hammering open the hard shells to earn their prize. This is primarily an instinctive behavior, with young seasels playfully hitting small hard objects against roots and stones without exactly understanding the purpose of this behavior. It takes some practice, and imitation of their parents, before they finally master the use of the art to acquire food and exploit resources others cannot reach with ease.

But quillnobs are extremely abundant in the beachpeach forests, and there is no shortage of creatures trying to exploit them. Black-headed dipdivers (Submersornimys submersus) are wading wanderganders that, to access deeper-growing food sources, have become skilled divers, plunging into the water to grab food and then using their wings as oars to boost themselves back to the surface. Being lightweight flyers, they are, in turn, compromised by their inability to sink as they are too buoyant for sustained dives, and thus their feeding pattern consists of deep, but brief, plunges to break off quillnobs from their anchors and catch small bottom-dwelling prey that they haul up to the surface to eat. Dipdivers as a whole are thus quite successful in wetlands, marshes and swamps where they dive for aquatic prey, with a related species, the stripe-headed dipdiver (Submersornimys melanoleuca) being widespread through the coastal wetlands, both plunge-diving to catch food in deeper water and wading with their long legs in shallower rivers and ponds.

The oceanic abyss is a world devoid of light, and is easily one of, if not the, most inhospitable biome in the ocean. Plants are absent, as photosynthesizers cannot live here. Yet, in spite of the perpetual darkness, crushing pressures, and toxic compounds spewed by undersea vents, life thrives nontheless, and finds a way to survive.

Many creatures in this lightless world owe their existence to chemolithotrophs: micro-organisms that convert inorganic material such as sulfur into food, and thus are fed by the hydrothermal vents at such depths. These in turn form films and colonies that in turn serve as the producers of a food chain that exists entirely independent of the surface world--save for occasional seaver-falls that feed thousands upon thousands of scavengers that pile onto the carcass in a massive writhing mass: asterisks, notiluses, shrish, pescopods and other small invertebrates gather to take advantage of such resources.

Some species, such as the trench trawlbug (Platyabyssocaris thalassus), a member of a group of bottom-dwelling shrish known as trilobugs, directly consume chemolithotroph films: scraping away at the bacterial mats and gathering at the vicinity of hydrothermal vents to feed. Others, shrish and pescopods and various species of deep-sea mockjellies, instead thrive on deep-sea planktonic organisms that do feed directly off bacterial mats, and in turn are food for larger abyssal life: giant skwoids, like the neon-blue giant skwoid (Photocohleus radians), and the scarlet sawshrark (Carcharocaris erythrus), a member of the clade known as the galvaprawns. In the absence of natural light, many species in the dark deep produce their own, via bioluminescence, for various reasons. For shoaling shrish and pescopods, they do it to confuse and startle predators with an array of scattering, flashing lights. To small abyssal plankton, their glow is to force their predators, themselves prey, to spit them out or risk becoming a target to bigger animals. To the mockjellies, they use it as a lure to attract unsuspecting prey within reach of their stinging tentacles. To the galvaprawns, their distinct red light is a torch at frequency only they can see, invisible to colorblind prey. And for skwoids, their bioluminescence is a means of communication to their own species: flashing patterns to intimidate rivals, attract mates, or, in the case of breeding females, help their young stay close by, as many deep-sea skwoids are devoted parents that care for their young for a prolonged period of time.

Invertebrates thrive at these abyssal depths, where no air-breathing hamster can permanently live. Yet from time to time, their sanctuary is invaded by a few extreme hamster species: ones capable of holding their breath for hours at a time and withstanding the crushing pressures of the deep. The abyssal sawtooth (Atrocidontocetus abyssus) is a phorca of close relation to the sarchons, that shares its cousins' broad slicing teeth: yet equipped with conical cusps ideal for grasping soft-bodied prey. This is because one of its preferred prey are giant skwoids, much like the plurodons of the Glaciocene, and can dive to depths of over a kilometer beneath the surface to hunt its favorite meals. Many sport telltale scars from the giant skwoids' harpoon-like radula, as the mighty mollusks do not surrender without resistance, and some of their wounds may also be inflicted by galvaprawns: another favorite meal of the abyssal sawtooth. Two former apex predators, hidden in a last stronghold unreachable by hamsters, have finally met their match: while still fierce predators in their own right, they no longer rule the top of the food chain: and have gotten smaller and faster as a result compared to their tankier ancestors to more easily flee the sawtooth's pursuit.

But the record of deepest diver of any hamster far surpasses even the abyssal sawtooth: the deepsea seatoad (Thalassobufomys macropterapus). A member of the monisaur family, this most remarkable marine rattile can reach depths up to three kilometers below sea level, thanks to a wide array of adaptations. Most importantly, it stores as little air as possible in its body to avoid being compressed by the tremendous water pressure, with its lungs fully deflated: instead, it stores oxygen in its blood and muscle tissues, which are so rich in oxygen-holding myoglobin that its muscles and blood appear almost black. Being a rattile, it also has a far slower metabolism and thus can go for longer periods without oxygen as it uses them much more slowly: a mesothermic species, it is able to some extent generate some body heat when it is at the surface: and then retain said body heat via a dense layer of subcutaneous blubber while slowing down its metabolism to conserve oxygen, keeping warm enough to function even as it descends to the frigid depths. With a sturdy frame and an efficient oxygen-holding capacity, the deepsea seatoad can reach depths of over 3,000 meters, and stay under for up to four to five hours in its longest dives.

But these are not the deepsea seatoad's only adaptations: it possesses a set of other features that help it gather its favored food: abyssal trilobugs and notiluses that it grabs off the ocean floor. Its back flippers are longer than its front, allowing it to remain stable even as it feeds in a head-down diagonal posture. Its broad teeth allow it to easily crush hard shells of the prey it eats, which it then consumes shell and all. But perhaps their most unusual adaptation are the callosities that it bears on its head: which have a unique, symbiotic relationship with tiny quillnobs that anchor onto them--and in turn are hosts for bioluminescent microbes. The deepsea seatoad, thus, carries its own light to find its way in the black depths, and, while their glow is not particularly bright, it is sufficient for the seatoad's large, dark-adapted eyes which reflect and magnify light in low-light conditions. It, of course, cannot see in total darkness, but the dim glow of its quillnob partners is all the light it needs to find its way.

Deepsea seatoads, as specialized as they are for the abyss, are still air-breathers, and thus must come up for air eventually. Their compact bodies and lack of air spaces in their bodies protect them from decompression syndrome, or the bends, and, once at the surface, the pupils of their large, sensitive eyes narrow into tiny vertical slits to minimize the blinding light entering the eye. After a long dive, the deepsea seatoad is forced to take a recovery period at the surface to compensate for its extended, airless descent, and it is during its time here that the seatoad performs two very vital functions. First, during the breeding season, the symbiotic quillnobs time their spawning with the breeding of their seatoad host, allowing the numerous small seatoad young born in litters to acquire their own quillnob population. Second, and more importantly, the seatoads usually relieve themselves while resting near the surface: and their droppings, consisting of proccessed abyssal organisms, return the nutrients of the deep sea back to the surface: thus feeding plants and plankton with these leavings, and starting the food cycle all over again, which would otherwise end with the sunken carcasses of top consumers in the abyss.

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#speculative evolution #speculative biology #spec evo #speculative zoology #hamster's paradise #biome post

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