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Octopus sentience.
'Nuff said.
'Scuse me while I go write non-fiction fanfic.
P.S. You know all the lovely octopus themed lamps and furniture stuff out there? Give how good octopus are at shapeshifting, wouldn't that mean any furniture that looks like furniture could also be octopus?
'Nuff said.
'Scuse me while I go write non-fiction fanfic.
P.S. You know all the lovely octopus themed lamps and furniture stuff out there? Give how good octopus are at shapeshifting, wouldn't that mean any furniture that looks like furniture could also be octopus?
no subject
Date: 2018-12-24 11:39 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2019-01-02 07:55 am (UTC)From:1) I should have finished writing that story about a Salish linguist who teaches sign language to a mermaid before Shape of Water came out (this is the third time I feel like a Cool Concept I came up with was sprouting independently in a dozen other minds, cough*I am Dragon*cough).
2) Wow I hadn't realized just how shockingly on base mermaid horror could be. When written by someone who is not Lovecraft. With actual extrapolations of the world based on current science! (my only quibble with Kage Baker's Company novels is that they left out climate change)
no subject
Date: 2019-01-04 01:31 am (UTC)From:2) and mermaid horror can be incredibly terrifying. The sea? Terrifying. Lots of unknown things tHaT CaN SEnSE YoU. And the "it might have been human" sort of mind-trip. Playing on human weaknesses to try to help other humans in peril.
no subject
Date: 2018-12-26 07:44 pm (UTC)From:It might have been a dog. The size and shape was right. The movements, the hint of playfulness. Even the suggestion of what might be fur in the right places. I stared at it, and the dog danced, wagging its tail at me. Each move I made towards it, it skipped backwards. The McCaffert's dog, I thought, based on the size. I continued for a mile following it in that way, with it pausing at moments to look back, one paw lifted expectantly.
At that point, I glanced upwards. The beach shoreline had been eaten up by cliff and rock. A safe night walk was now endangered - a single slip on the rock would yield a swift fall into the night-black sea. I stopped there, looking hard at the dog. It had paused yet again. Silhouetted by a half-moon setting over the ocean, the creature sat patiently. A sea breeze blew, yet the fur remained unmoving. Were those eyes in the creature's skull, or were those simply black stones plucked from the deep?
A shiver of ice moved through my spine. It was clever. It knew how to lead me on. But now that it had gotten me out, now that I knew... what then? I backed up slowly, not taking my eyes off the creature. For the first time, it began to step towards me. A single slip had me on my side, clinging to the wet rock, and I gasped in pain as a lone sharp rock sliced through my pants and into my thigh. I looked backwards for an instant to chart my escape to the sand. It was then that I saw several more shapes, doglike, disappear up against the cliff.
I was alone, I was outnumbered, and I was being hunted.
But then, something changed. In the half-light of the moon, I caught a clear view of one of them sliding up the rock face. Portions of dog - the legs, the tail, the head - split apart from one another and curled around each foothold for grip, sliding the creature smoothly upward and out of sight. Joy filled my heart. As an ocean biologist who specialized in cephalopods, this was an incredible moment. I'd discovered a new species, or at least, a new survival method for an existing octopus.
And as for my quarry? Well. they'd never hunted a specialist before...
no subject
Date: 2018-12-27 08:07 pm (UTC)From:***I will try to craft an appropriate response***
****but it may take a while to rise to this level of awesome****