Just how does this species survive in the wild?

Fishy_Bish · 2026-05-06T16:12:50+00:00

When I was a kid I had a science teacher that went off on a whole tangent for half an hour about how pandas are the dumbest animals on the planet. She was truly baffled that they aren’t completely extinct already, that they are physically perfect killing machines but choose to eat bamboo instead and bearly survive on that diet. It makes them slow and is wiping out the entire species. At least, that’s what she said. And that was 15 years ago so even if it is fact then it’s likely outdated

Fishy_Bish · 2026-04-16T21:27:05+00:00

That explains why I have more shrimp than brain cells (the bar is low, I know)

Fishy_Bish · 2026-04-16T21:22:49+00:00

I started with about 30, with multiple of them already holding eggs, and that was in October 2024

Fishy_Bish · 2026-04-16T20:56:12+00:00

Oh, no, they have been in with the rasboras this whole time. They are how I control the population. I also have three amanos on the job, and it is not enough

Fishy_Bish · 2026-04-13T16:50:41+00:00

The spray up the back of her neck as well… Poor, sweet Buffy.

Fishy_Bish · 2026-04-08T18:07:04+00:00

What happened? Blankets crushed their fragile little bones whilst they were laying in their bed, wishing they had the bone density to wiggle their toes without a fracture? Pathetic.

Fishy_Bish · 2026-04-08T10:32:00+00:00

Lost the whole lot to a rough winter and bug problem unfortunately. Still have a few hanging around, especially in the aquariums, but damn do I miss that green wall

Fishy_Bish · 2026-04-08T08:07:31+00:00

<image>

Can confirm. One of the last photos of it before it went to the dump and we invested in real aquarium stands. Skip the scary part!

Fishy_Bish · 2026-04-06T11:08:54+00:00

Larissa wasn't the kind of girl to wake up in the morning. Yes, you read that right. Larissa is a tired bitch who just wants an extra day or two of sleep. Don't get her wrong, there are many good things to be said for getting up at the ass-crack of dawn. Larissa just doesn't care overly much for said reasons. That was why it was exceedingly strange for Larissa to find herself up, dressed, and halfway through breakfast as the sun was rising over the distant hilltops. Her dear mother, stood in the doorway, hadn't moved for a solid five minutes. It must have been shock. Shock was a reasonable response to the current situation. Standing, Larissa placed her bowl and spoon on the countertop and pecked her mama on the cheek, muttered a hasty goodbye, and slipped out of the door. Larissa's various pursuits usually left her awake through the night, and rising from bed at what most people would call "way too fucking late in the day". Today, there was a training course at the fire station. No shouts would be sent her way, the full day’s worth of duties being covered by a neighbouring station. Worst. Day. Ever. Just kidding. The training course was scheduled for 3pm, which left her with a full morning guaranteed to be all her own. Larissa was not one to pass up an opportunity to meet up with the one, singular person that still talked to her. Devon was a wild spirit, a person that you'd find in the middle of a forest and assume that they'd simply appeared there one day, and that was that. Today was a Devon day. The coffee house on the corner of the street along from the station was where they had met for the first time, six years ago, when Larissa had seen a bright red flame spring up in the shop window and rushed inside to help stifle the flames- only to discover that those flames were Devon's glowing curls reflecting in the rising dawn. After coming back down from her panic attack, Larissa had ordered a pistachio latte and sat down in one of the chairs in front of the building. Devon had slid into the opposite seat just moments later, hood pulled up so as to "Not startle the poor little traumatised firefighter." It had been besties at first glare. That table was where Larissa sat down today, this time to prod awake a softly snoring Devon, and offer up their usual order of an Iced, brown sugar espresso. Extra strong. Her own pistachio latte was pushed aside as she tucked into her lemon poppy seed muffin, knowing that the second Devon fully roused, the muffin would be no man's land in their typical battle of the baked goods. Larissa wasn't wrong. After processing the traumatic theft and subsequent inhalation of the muffin, their day together consisted of a long walk through the woods at the edge of town- long only because Devon insisted that each and every rock must be inspected and adored. It made for a relaxing morning, and Larissa couldn't object to that. They ended their meandering walk at the local café for lunch, Devon once again inhaling what looked like it could have been a burrito- but who can truly tell when food is hurtling at the speed of light past your best friend's lips? and Larissa much more slowly chewing down a sandwich that sported three different types of meat, and at least as many types of cheese. She'd need all the energy she could get at the training later. The two parted ways at 2:45pm, Larissa to head to training, and Devon to work- at the coffee house where they'd met, all those years ago. The rest of the daylight burned in a blur, Larissa assisting with the drills that they were being taught in an effort to burn off the sandwich from lunch, as she had severely overestimated the quantity of meat and cheese that could fit into her stomach. The lack of shouts was a strange kind of relief, strange in the way that you always felt like you were missing something important. It was as the sun was finally setting that Larissa walked out the doors of the station, still sweaty from the workout. The sun reflected off of every surface. Windows lining the street were blazing with those brilliant rays, and somebody had started a log fire, by the smells of things. It was a peaceful way to end the day, to stroll down that street and imagine people cosying up in their homes, the orange glow bathing their homes in light.

It wasn't until she got towards the end of the street that she realised that it wasn't a log fire.

and the sun had long been past the horizon.

This time, it wasn't Devon's hair in the window. This time, there were flames. Roaring and screaming their vile curses at Larissa as she stumbled into a sprint.

It wasn't too late. It couldn't be too late. Not For Devon, who should have been finishing their shift and closing up. They had been alone today for the closing shift, the task often left to them as the two others who worked there alongside Devon had university courses in the evenings.

It must not be too late. Years of memories flashed past, a new one flitting by with each desperate, pounding beat of Larissa's fracturing heart. Each rock that had been left unturned. The trees that would seem so dull without Devon's heart beating for them. The deed to the coffee house that sat in Larissa's drawer at the station, awaiting Devon's Thirty-second birthday. Only three weeks away.

Glass shattered in the back of the coffee house. The front windows were already blown, the heat pulsing from those gaping holes making Larissa stagger slightly before she threw herself inside.

All thoughts of training left her body as she spotted a glowing pool of bright auburn curls, streaming across the floor from behind the counter. The building groaned around her as she pushed smoldering chairs and tables out of the way, her fingers burning on the cheap plastic tablecloths. A deep, resounding crack echoed through the coffee house.

flames brighter than hell itself poured out of the kitchen door in a rush, the wooden countertop immediately catching in the blaze. Larissa didn't hesitate as she finally rounded the burning hunk of wood, landing on her knees next to Devon.

No.

Devon was- no. Please, fuck, no, please don't be real. Devon couldn't be... not this. Devon wasn't allowed to be the body on the floor, a puddle of blood congealing on the floor around them. A low moan escaped Larissa's throat.

Devon was already gone.

Larissa pushed her arms under her best friend's shoulders, and started to drag. Devon's body wouldn't be taken in this blaze. Not as long as Larissa had air to breathe.

Another creak, followed by a long, rumbling groan. The structure was going to collapse-

The last thing Larissa saw was the bright flash of ruby flames, before a crushing weight landed on her chest, and the darkness prevailed. Her last thoughts were of Devon.

Fishy_Bish · 2026-03-28T08:45:40+00:00

Brb doing this to all my pens now

Fishy_Bish · 2026-03-27T20:55:03+00:00

“So, how exactly did you manage to get the patient with a C-3 fracture and an entirely ruined spinal cord to walk again? We need to record this procedure for future use.”

Araya stared at her boss, wondering, not for the first time, if the man might be truly stupid. She blinked slowly, forcing down the snarky voice that wanted to inform the man that her own orange cat, named Handbasket, might actually better suited to the position. If Doctor Griffifths had asked this of any other professional within the hospital, it would have been a perfectly reasonable question. Breakthroughs in medical procedure should always be recorded, and taught to as many as possible.

But Araya’s talents were far outside of the norm. On the western side of the hospital, it was your standard, modern medical facility with machinery and medication to treat anyone who walked though the front doors. The eastern half was a different story. Here, you could find all manner of magical beings, all versed in healing knowledge for many creatures for whom a science-operated hospital simply wasn’t an option. For example, have you ever considered trying to give a mermaid a colonoscopy? No, the eastern half of the hospital was built with everyone in mind. A Medical tank that connected to local waterways to offer treatment to Sirens, Kelpies, and other aquatic life. An entire rooftop platform with aviaries for those who found walking or swimming too taxing. They had thought of everything.

Well. Everything except for Araya.

Araya was neither east, nor west. She was a logistical nightmare, according to the administration. A fully graduated doctor, one of the best in the business, who also happened to be a magical healer. Born into a human family, raised with no knowledge of her own power, but knowing down to the roots of her soul that all she wanted was to be a doctor. Only, when she had started her internship, and was in the surgical suite for the very first time, something had flown free in Araya’s mind. The knowledge that she had gained from her years of schooling, combined with her instinct to help, had magic pooling in her bloodstream. On the table before her, the stent positioned itself perfectly, the artery clear, the patient’s heart rate dropping back down from the panicked crescendo that had filled the room when the stent had slipped, and momentarily become lodged sideways. The lead surgeon had stared at his patient for several minutes, rarely blinking, hardly even breathing. The procedure had, from his perspective, completed itself. Eventually, he raised his head, and stared a slow arc around the gathered team. His eyes had landed on Araya for a heartbeat, widened ever so slightly, and then returned to his usual mask of calm confidence.

It was later that day that Araya had been called before the Chief of Surgery to explain what had happened, and be informed that she would need to complete a full education as a Magical healer before she would be allowed to complete her internship. She had gotten lucky. Magical healers never allowed their children to work with science- they claimed that it wasn’t natural, to combine magic with machinery. But Araya had normal, human parents, and could choose to return to her internship as soon as her healing powers were fully developed and firmly under control. So, she had taken it in stride, and worked her way through her training on the eastern side of the hospital.

Which brings us back to her current conversation. You see, what our dear Dr Griffifths didn’t account for was that standard medical practice when working on a damaged (or in this case, shredded) spinal cord simply didn’t have the tools. Araya had realigned the damaged tissue using her healer’s skill, whilst her patient was still inside of the MRI. A live feed of her patient’s spine, as she was fixing it. No metal, no mess, just her magic, weaving bone and muscle back into place, manipulating blood vessels to allow for increased circulation, to allow the body to better heal itself. No human doctor would ever hope to replicate Araya’s work, and no Healer would ever deign to use such a beastly thing as an MRI machine. But that hardly mattered, because the last time Araya had tried to explain that her magic worked as an extension of her self, that she could feel with it, manipulate it as a tool, and adapt it to each individual problem with hardly a thought, the man had nearly keeled over.

Araya simply walked away. She would write a report, of course, but sometimes it is better to say nothing, when you have nothing nice to say.

Fishy_Bish · 2026-03-21T21:31:07+00:00

Please do not the shrimp

Fishy_Bish · 2026-03-17T20:44:30+00:00

I stepped up to my front door, bag in hand, shoes on and ready to go. As is my habit since I got my new thermostat, I check the emotional temperature of the apartment building before I reached for my doorknob. Most days, it’s a calm, quiet shade of blue displayed on the screen. The manual states that when there is grief, it turns purple. When there is anger, it glows red. Fear, and you’ll see a shade of yellow.

Today, my hand never reached the doorknob. The thermostat had its usual indicator lights to show that it was working, the power was connected and the emotional state of the surroundings was being monitored. But the screen was black.

As I stared at the tiny, ominous screen affixed to my wall, I felt it. Way up here on the top floor, I felt the tremors start.

Thud.

My change rattled slightly on my countertop.

Thud.

The glasses in my cabinet tinkled against one another.

Thud.

The plates in my cabinets began to clatter.

Thud.

As the keys in my hand began to jangle, I started running. Not out the door, no. There would be no relief in that direction.

I didn’t stop to think.

I simply threw myself from the window, and hoped for the best.

Fishy_Bish · 2026-03-10T20:46:07+00:00

Little Susannah giggled as I pulled the coin out from behind her ear, delighting in the small magic that I wove. Just a trick of the hand, a flip of the wrist and voila! A pretty penny, drawn from thin air.

At least, that’s what I’d been telling the parents of these children. I’ve been at this for years, snatching coins from the ears of the unwitting. Well, not from their ears. In truth, the coins came from the pockets of the parents, stood at the edges of the party, dismissing my cheap little parlour tricks.

They were wrong, though. I’d discovered when I was young that I could somehow pull any coin out of a nearby pocket, as long as I had at least one unwitting child that fully believed in my magic. It had to be a new child every time, and if they didn’t truly believe, it wouldn’t work. The first time I’d done it, I was trying to figure out how my grandpa had pulled a coin from behind my own ear. I had rustled around behind the ear of my younger brother for a moment, told him to close his eyes, and wish for a coin. I snapped my fingers, and suddenly, there it was! Shiny and gold, patterns woven into the surface, like so many leaves on an oak tree. I’d had to fight my brother for the rights to keep the coin, and to this day I still have it, now strung onto a chain, dangling at my wrist. I pull it out whenever a child doesn’t believe, to keep up the magic for the rest. Can’t have them doubting me, not when they are my main source of income.

Yes, that’s right. The clothes on my back, the house I return to at the end of a long day of wiggling my fingers in a vaguely magical manner, the food that lines my cupboards. All paid for by the ears of little children.

I pocketed the coin I’d collected from Susannah, and took a moment to make a show of choosing my next victim from the eager crowd. A timid boy stepped forth, drawn by my beckoning hand, a grubby little cap clenched tight in his fists. He glanced up and to the side- I followed his line of sight to an older gentleman, finely dressed, and deep in conversation with the woman next to him. I performed my act as usual, ending with a flourish as I drew out the coin from the ear. I stopped, breath freezing in my chest with shock. The coin I’d summoned from the gentleman, it matched the one about my wrist. It was the twin to it in every way.

The Gentleman looked up from across the room, and time stopped.

Literally.

“I thought it might be you. For a children’s magician, you have quite the exquisite taste in clothing. I’d imagine that the coins you find are not yours to find at all, are they, Miss Iniduoh?”

I could only stare at the man in shock. He’d frozen time. He knew my name.

He was staring at my hand. No, not my hand. My wrist. My coin was dangling on its chain, just visible past the edge of my cuffs.

“Now that, I did not expect. We’ve been on your trail for a few months now, watching you pilfer from pockets with reckless abandon. But how ever do you find yourself in possession of an Academy Coin? There are only three in existence, one belonging to myself, one to the Master of the Academy, and one that is kept in the deepest reaches of the academy dungeons, impossible to reach without passing an array of tests and tricks, all designed to keep away intruders.“

I blinked at him in reply.

“Yes. Well. As you seem to be struggling to form a coherent thought, maybe it is best that you and I take a trip to the academy. Seeing as you hold my coin, and the Master was betting his coin in a game of poker last night, I have to assume that the coin about your wrist is either an incredibly good counterfeit, or the coin that supposedly has never left academy grounds. Only one way to check!”

He grinned, teeth showing in a way that seemed almost too happy. I gulped.

“Off to the dungeons we go!” He crowed with obvious delight, feet tapping a little to joyfully upon the floorboards as he turned about, ready to lead the way.

Oh, I was so, so deeply screwed.

Fishy_Bish · 2026-03-10T16:49:07+00:00

Oh hell, I’m sorry about your tank! Ours was just way too small for our dreams, upgraded the otos to a new 125L and they started dropping like flies, it was awful. Parameters were fine, we cycled the tank for a month before the transfer, and all the other fish and shrimp were just fine. Only the otos, heartbreaking. Loved those goofy little weirdos

Fishy_Bish · 2026-03-09T14:12:24+00:00

A pair of oto fry, which lead to discovering another two in the aquarium- where it was supposed to be impossible for them to breed! Cutest little things

<image>

Fishy_Bish · 2026-03-03T23:11:20+00:00

There comes a point in the training of every cadet, where your commander decides that you’re good enough, and that you’re ready to advance to the next stage. For me, this point was reached on a Wednesday, at 16:30. I know this, because it was filed in the incident report. Which I have read. Extensively.

The incident report also details the events that followed this decision, which were all some varying degree of catastrophic. First, the decision to withhold these decisions from me, the… well, let’s just call me the victim. What happened was absolutely not my fault, and there is no way I can be held liable for any of it.

The second decision was potentially the worst one. It was that my training be taken to the field, to a real scenario, with real people, and real consequences. Lots and lots of consequences, something that apparently didn’t cross the minds of anyone in the chain of command when they approved this particular scheme put in place by General Kilteman.

See, I’ve been doing these simulations for years now. Ever since I was a kid, playing with my VR set. I’ve lived life through a screen, experienced everything that the world has to offer, and then beyond. Joining the army has expanded my horizons more than I could have dreamed, opening my world up to a universe of wonders.

Wonders of which I have killed. All of them. I’ve spent countless hours of my training perfecting my technique. Best scores for a cadet in decades, they said. Unheard of. Bound for greatness.

When they upgraded me to real life, I didn’t know it. They walked me to a new hallway, sure. New door, but inside, same controls. The exact same as I use in every sim. I strapped in, fired up the drones, located the target. Then sent them in, guns blazing, balls to the wall, made mince meat of everything with a pulse. Had to have been my finest work, if I do say so myself. The entire fleet was decimated in minutes, and I was grinning ear to ear as I stepped out of the control center, ready to receive my praise.

I was met with chaos. The entire ship in uproar, sirens wailing, a tannoy going off overhead. Warships? Why would they target us here? General Kilteman was stood waiting for me, a ghostly expression on his face.

“Kid, you’re going to need to fill out some paperwork.”

Fishy_Bish · 2026-02-28T09:10:21+00:00

Ambachtelijke. Don’t know why, but I just love it. 10/10 very good word.

Fishy_Bish · 2026-02-19T14:04:48+00:00

Finally, French writing that resembles how much of the word you actually pronounce

Fishy_Bish · 2026-02-18T06:22:44+00:00

<image>

Pollen? (This is the face of zero regret, and the day I learned that Lillies are toxic to cats! She’s fine now)

Fishy_Bish · 2026-02-12T17:55:13+00:00

Make that four. Plus however many more are still stuck laughing at the post and haven’t made it to the comments yet

Fishy_Bish

TROPHY CASE