If you pronounce the word "whore" with two syllables (iykyk) you fall under one of two categories:
1. Evil old southern conservative preacher/politician. All ye hooers will burn type shit. So white they turn pink when they spend more than 10 minutes in the sun. Goiter neck, collar too tight. Angry crotchety old douche canoe that probably commited a crime against women at some point in their life
Or
2. Gayer than a retired drag queen that winters in Palm Springs but summers in P-town, full salmon polo-limp-wrist-90s-stereotypical gay accent kind of queerness you rarely see irl anymore type of gay. It is a compliment and an honor to be called a hooer by this type of person
Pardon my wth background, i was out of ideas and with a big headache so i just blazed some brushes around like Im Picasso or sum TUMBLR THEY ARE DRESSED
No one ever tell me anything bad about the person who runs this account.
the person who runs this account, Katie Gouldin, is an evolutionary biologist who has an EXCELLENT podcast called Creature Feature which compares and contrasts the weird behaviors of man and beast! she is super cute and funny too!
pairing: modern au!viktor x artist!reader
prompt: āif somebody were to kiss me, iād want that person to be youā
tags: you're jayces childhood bff, no use of y/n, alcohol, heavy kissing, drunk kissing, basically just a bunch of buildup towards a smutty fwb part two???, viktor being a menace
wc: 4k
notes: AU where nobody is sick or dying yay! also i think i managed to keep this pretty gn!reader but any future parts will be afab/fem
(art is from pinterest, dividers from chachachannah & webc00re)
You never meant for things to get this far. You told yourself it was just a little fun, harmless and fleetingānothing more. You had a career to focus on, friendships in the balance. But now, here you are, pacing the living room carpet thin, your cuticles raw from nervous chewing, and your thoughts spiraling into places you swore theyād never go.
It feels juvenile, almost laughable, like some smitten teenager waiting by the phone and sneaking kisses in shadowed corners. You were supposed to be above this, werenāt you? I mean, as a grown adult you should know how to keep it casual, uncomplicated.Ā
But nothing about this is simple anymore. Not the friendship. Not the secrets. And certainly not the way your heart betrays you every time his name crosses your mind.
It definitely wasnāt supposed to be like this.
Moving back to the city hadnāt been on the bingo card for this year, but here you were. Your life had been tucked away in the quiet of rural landscapes, where your art had room to breatheāendless skies, rolling hills, and the kind of solitude that made inspiration flow without any distractions. But your career had expanded, and with that expansion came the relentless pressure of galleries, art buyers, and a future that demanded more from you than that peaceful escape ever could.Ā
So, the city had called you back. Concrete towers, crowded streets, the city offered more. Shows. Opportunities. Jayce. The only thing about this cold, steel jungle that still felt like home. Jayceāyour childhood friend, your constant in a world that had never stopped changing. Thrown together since you were practically in diapers, he was the one piece of your old life that had somehow survived the years and distance between you two. And now, after what felt like an eternity, here he was, sprawled across your tiny couch, looking too comfortable for someone who was just supposed to be a guest. The apartment was a bit small, as city apartments tended to beāpacked between towering neighborsābut Jayceās presence was the only thing about it that felt remotely like home.
"You know," he said, half-lounging. āIāve got someone I want you to meet.ā
You didnāt look up from your canvas, your brush already dipping into the paints like second nature. āWho?ā
āViktorāĀ
You paused, only long enough for your brush to hover midair before you flicked your gaze in his direction. āAh, yes. The famous business partner.ā
Jayceās grin didnāt falter, but there was something softer behind it now. āYeah, something like that. But seriously, heās a good guy. Brilliant, actually. You two would get along.ā
You didnāt reply at first. Instead, you let the brush finish its arc, eyes back on your work, moving with the rhythm of a familiar task. āmhmā you murmured, distracted by the way the strokes of paint were bleeding together. āIf heās anything like you, how bad can it be?ā
But Jayce, of course, wasnāt done. His voice took on that softĀ tone he reserved for moments when he really wanted to get his point across. āIām serious, okay? I want you two to meet. You both mean a lot to me, and I think youāll really hit it off.ā
You didnāt look up, but you felt a weight behind his words, pushing against you with silent pressure. āYeah? Iām sure itāll happen, then.ā
Jayceās eyes lit up, a flash of triumph in them, like heād just won some small but important battle. āYouāll see. Iām telling youāwhen you meet him, youāll click. I know it.ā
You leaned back in your chair, releasing a slow exhale, the kind that said everything without saying anything at all. A nonchalant nod was all you offered, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of saying more. āFine. Fine. Iāll meet him. But donāt make a whole thing out of it.ā
Jayce chuckled, and there was an odd note of relief in the sound, like heād just been granted some unspoken permission. āNo big deal, I swear. But youāll see. You two are more alike than you think.ā
-
When you finally did meet Viktor, Jayce was practically vibrating, his energy as unsubtle as ever. It had been after one of your gallery openings, a night youād half-dragged yourself through on fumes and politeness. Your heels had barely cleared the threshold of his apartment before the faintest twinge of suspicion began to creep ināsomething about the way he hovered, grinning like a man with a secret.
āYou deserve a good meal after tonight,ā Jayce had said, ushering you in with the kind of charm that usually preceded one of his schemes. āThought youād want to celebrate somewhere that doesnāt reek of overpriced wine and small talk.ā
You rolled your eyes but let yourself be corralled, the promise of food outweighing the odd note in his voice. His large apartment, at least, was familiar territory: warm, cluttered with bits of tech and sentimental junk from years past, the faint scent of whatever candles he refused to admit he hoarded lingering in the air.
And then you heard itāthe low murmur of another voice, sharp-edged and vaguely amused, drifting from the kitchen.
Jayce froze, his grin faltering for a split second before it reappeared, brighter than ever. āOh, right,ā he said, far too casually. āViktorās here.ā
You blinked, narrowing your eyes at him. āYou conveniently forgot to mention that part.ā
āCome on,ā he pushed, throwing an arm around your shoulders and steering you toward the source of the voice. āItās no big deal. Just dinner. Youāll like him, I promise.ā
And there he was, perched by the kitchen counter with a faintly perplexed look on his face. He was slimmer than youād expected, pale and sharp-featured, with hair that looked like it hadnāt met a comb in days. His amber eyes flicked up to meet yours, narrowing slightly as if he were trying to solve a puzzle that had just been placed in front of him.
āAh,ā he said, his accent lilting and crisp, āso this is the infamous artist.ā
You shot a glare at Jayce, who was already heading for the stove with the kind of forced cheer that made it painfully clear heād orchestrated the whole thing. āYou owe me for this,ā you muttered under your breath, stepping further into the kitchen.
Viktorās lips twitched, the barest hint of a smirk appearing. āAnd here I thought I was being ambushed. Seems weāre both victims of his enthusiasm.ā
Jayce turned from the stove, wooden spoon in hand, his expression utterly unrepentant. āYouāll thank me later.ā
The dinner was simple but undeniably goodāJayceās doing, of course. The man couldnāt let anyone step into his apartment without insisting they be properly fed, and tonight was no exception. Roast chicken, buttery vegetables with rice, warm bread that filled the space with its yeasty aromaāit was the kind of meal that made you feel at home even when you werenāt.
Conversation flowed easily around the table, mostly carried by Jayce, but Viktor wasnāt exactly quiet, either. He had a way of chiming in at just the right moment, his dry humor landing squarely between Jayceās more exuberant anecdotes and your own occasional contributions.
āYou mean to tell me,ā Viktor said at one point, leaning back slightly in his chair, āthat Jayce still hasnāt learned to cook rice without burning it? After all these years?ā
Jayce, halfway through explaining some disastrous culinary attempt from his youth, turned to glare at him. āExcuse me, this rice was cooked perfectly.ā
āIt was fine,ā you agreed, though the memory of a slightly crunchy bite or two made your lips twitch in amusement.
Viktorās amber eyes sparkled as he gestured broadly. āOh, fine! A glowing review, truly. Donāt let it go to your head.ā
Jayce groaned, but there was no real bite to it. āYouāre insufferable.ā
āAnd yet,ā Viktor said, raising his glass in a mock toast, āhere I am. Invited to dinner. Again.ā
Jayce just rolled his eyes and went back to his story, leaving you to glance at Viktor with a small smile. He caught it, of course, and gave a little shrug as if to say, what can you do? For all his sharp humor, he was easy to talk to, his wit balanced by an underlying warmth that kept him from coming off as too cutting.
Which was why you were only mildly surprised when the spoon incident happened.
Dinner was winding down, Jayce had disappeared into the kitchen to fuss over coffee, leaving you and Viktor to handle the cleanup.
He moved with a surprising ease, balancing a stack of plates in one hand, his cane steady in the other. It was a casual sort of competence, as though heād long since adapted to whatever limitations life had handed him. You hadnāt thought much of it, impressed by how naturally he maneuvered, until the soft clatter of a spoon hitting the floor broke the quiet rhythm of tidying.
āAh,ā Viktor said, glancing down at the rogue utensil with a faint frown as he set down the plate stack. āOf course.ā
You paused mid-step, glancing between him and the spoon. āNeed a hand?ā
He tilted his head, his expression a little too innocent. āIf itās not too much trouble. You know, the leg and all...ā
āOh, forāā Jayceās voice floated from the kitchen, half-annoyed but not quite committed to intervening.
You sighed, setting down the napkins youād been folding. āYeah, sure. Iāve got it.ā
But just as you crouched down, Viktor shifted. A casual tap of his cane sent the spoon skittering across the floor, its metallic clink faintly echoing as it landed farther away.
You froze, staring at the spoon in disbelief, then turned your gaze to him slowly. āYouāre kidding.ā
Viktorās lips twitched, the faintest glimmer of amusement flickering across his face. āWhat?ā
āYou justāā
āWhat?ā he repeated, wider-eyed this time, his free hand gesturing vaguely toward his cane. āIām handicapped.ā
Jayce reappeared in the doorway, a coffee pot in hand and a look of pure exasperation on his face. āViktor.ā
āWhat?ā Viktor said again, his voice laced with mock indignation. āI am!ā
Jayce muttered something unintelligible as he poured coffee, his focus shifting between you and Viktor like he couldnāt decide which one of you deserved his scolding more. Meanwhile, you straightened, crossing your arms as a grin tugged at the corners of your mouth despite your best efforts.
āYouāre lucky Iām feeling generous,ā you said, stepping across the room to retrieve the spoonāagain.
āVery generous,ā Viktor agreed, his tone breezy. āHonestly, itās quite inspiring. Jayce, you should take notes.ā
Jayce groaned, setting the coffee pot down with a little too much force. āYouāre both ridiculous.ā
But you were already laughing, the sound bubbling up before you could stop it. As you returned the spoon to the table with a pointed look, Viktor gave you a small, almost triumphant smile. And maybe, you could see what Jayce meant when heād said youād get along.
-
The first time you realized you might feel more than just friendship for Viktor was when you noticed the way your sketches had started to change.
It had been weeksāmaybe even a couple of monthsāsince that dinner with Jayce, when you had awkwardly danced around each other, getting to know one another. The initial weirdness had faded into easy companionship, and you found yourself spending more time with Viktor than you expected. You hadnāt quite noticed it happening, but somewhere along the line, youād become an unintentional trio. Jayce had been bursting with barely-contained glee at how easily the two of you seemed to get along, and it made your chest warm, knowing how much that mattered to him. It felt... right, this newfound ease between the three of you, a quiet sort of harmony that made you smile more than you expected.
But as the days passed, something shifted without you realizing it. You were at home one evening, flipping through your sketchbook, the soft pastel dust smudging the edges of the pages as your fingers moved. The forms youād drawn were abstract models, capturing shapes and shadows in a fluid, organic way. It wasnāt anything newānothing that stood out. But then, you stopped.
There, in the shadows of the page, you saw it.
The subtle arch of a jawline. The curve of lips that you knew too well. Even the moles, small and almost unremarkable, but there they wereāon the page, right beneath your fingertips. You blinked and flipped to another sketch, only to see it again. A line here, a shadow there. It wasnāt him exactly, but it was.
To the untrained eye, maybe it wouldnāt have been obvious. Hell, maybe even to you on any other day, it mightāve gone unnoticed. But now, in the quiet of your studio, the shapes were almost unmistakable. The soft angle of his nose, the way his eyes looked when he was thinking too hard, the way his smile would pull up on one side when he was being particularly smug.
You frowned, setting the sketchbook down, your hands hovering above it as if it had betrayed you. Was this some kind of coincidence? Or was it something more, something you had been avoiding realizing? Youād never consciously set out to draw him, but there he was, tucked into the lines and curves of your art like an uninvited guest you hadnāt known you were entertaining.
It was ridiculous, you told yourself. Of course it was just... coincidence. But even as you tried to convince yourself, there was a small, unspoken truth sitting in your chest, heavy and undeniable, and the first time you realized Viktor might see you as more than just a friend was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it hit you all the same.
He mentioned a piece youād shown him, his tone thoughtful. āYouāve been doing something different lately. I canāt quite put my finger on it, but thereās a change. Itās...ā His gaze flickered to yours, then dropped back to the floor, but the brief flash in his eyes sent an unexpected flutter through your chest. ā...more. More than what you usually show.ā
The words themselves were harmless, even complimentary, but it was the way they hung between you that made something inside you stirāsomething you couldnāt name, not yet. You didnāt think much of it at first, but the way his eyes lingered just a second longer than necessary made your breath catch. The way the corners of his mouth lifted into a half-smile, not teasing, but... fond.
It was a simple thing. A fleeting moment. And yet, it lingered in your mind as you retreated to your apartment, your thoughts whirling with the possibility that Viktorāyour friend, the one you had so casually laughed and bantered with for monthsāmight be seeing you differently, too.
The shift was subtle, but it was there. And it unsettled you more than you cared to admit.
-
Everything came to a boiling point one night at your apartment. Youād ventured into town earlier that day, mostly for a change of scenery, and happened upon a small farmers market. You couldnāt resist grabbing a few bottles of strawberry wine, its sweetness and fruity undertones practically calling your name. Jayce had scoffed at it when you got back, claiming it was too sugary to have any real punch. āThereās no way Iāll even get drunk off this,ā heād muttered with a dismissive wave.
An hour later, he was sprawled out on your pullout, snoring softly with a stupid grin plastered across his face. You and Viktor stood nearby, both tryingāand failingāto suppress your amusement at how quickly Jayce had succumbed to the wineās effects. For all his size, Jayce was a surprising lightweight.
āI swear, every time,ā you said, laughing quietly.
Viktor, leaning against the doorway, gave a soft chuckle. āSome people just donāt know when to stop.ā
You rolled your eyes, glancing over at the slumbering man. āGuess we let him sleep it off.ā
āLet him have his beauty rest,ā Viktor teased, his voice light as he nodded toward the bottles. āWe can always finish it ourselves.ā
So you did, winding up on the roof with the cold night air around you. The worn-out couch up there had seen better days, but it was still enough to settle into and talk, a simple quiet comfort settling over you both. The soft glow of string lights and the silvered moonlight made the world feel like it was wrapped in a quiet hush despite the never ending sounds of the city. You both settled into the couch, the cushions sinking in the middle, which pushed you just a little closer to Viktor than you'd anticipated.
For a moment, neither of you said anything. The silence was easy, like you had spent years in it. You noticed how close you were sitting nowāyour thighs pressed together, and when you passed the bottle of wine, your fingers brushed his. A small spark of awareness ran through you each time, and you tried to ignore it, feeling your face warm despite the cool air.
The wine was sweet, fruity, and a little stronger than you expected, especially when you found yourself reaching for another sip and another, the soft buzz in your head gradually growing stronger.
By the time the bottle was halfway gone, you were both leaning more heavily into the couch, and you couldnāt help but giggle at how little wine was apparently needed to bring Jayce to the brink of passing out. You felt... lighter. Almost giddy, as if the laughter that came so easily was spilling out along with the alcohol. And Viktor, sitting just beside you, didnāt seem to be immune to it either. His face was flushed in the soft light, his lips curling into an easy smile.
āYou know,ā you said, leaning back and feeling the warmth of the couch soak into your bones, āI donāt do this enough. Iām so... wrapped up in work and life and... I just forget to relax.ā
Viktor tilted his head, eyes slightly narrowed as he watched you. āRelaxing can be overrated,ā he said with a smirk, the words a little slower than theyād been earlier. He took another drink from the bottle, his thumb brushing against the glass in an unconscious rhythm. When he passed it to you, your fingers brushed once again, and you lingered just a bit longer than necessary.
āWell, maybe for you,ā you chuckled. āBut, for me, itās like... it's like a luxury, I guess. You know? I donāt remember the last time I just sat with someone and... and didnāt feel like I had to be somewhere or do something.ā
āYou ehā... donāt have to worry about that here,ā Viktor said quietly, his voice light, with that usual teasing edge. But something was different in his tone, something that made the words feel heavier than they should have been. You couldnāt quite put your finger on it, but the air seemed to shift, the quiet between you stretching into something almost⦠charged.
You took another sip, your hand a little unsteady now. The whole situation felt absurdāawkward, even, yet strangely intimate in a way you hadnāt expected. Your gaze drifted toward his lips without thinking. It was brief, but enough to send a flutter through your stomach, and suddenly, your mind couldnāt focus on anything but that soft, confident curve of his mouth. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was something else entirely, but you couldnāt seem to think straight anymore.
Viktor shifted closer again, and the couch beneath you groaned as it sank with the weight of it. The space between you closed, and you could feel the warmth of his body pressing against yours shoulder to shoulder, like the alcohol spreading through you, making your pulse quicken.
For a long moment, he didnāt say anything. His presence was a solid thing beside you. His eyes were locked on yours, studying, but still so calm. You could feel the punch of his gaze on you, like it was seeping through your skin, sending heat rushing to your cheeks. It wasnāt just the wine nowāyou could feel it all over, heat blooming beneath your skin, making you fidget slightly.
āSometimes⦠you get caught up in what youāre doing, and you forget about everything else,ā you mumbled, trying to ignore the way your nerves were tightening your chest. āIāve been focused on my career andāgod, Iāve probably been a little⦠I donāt know, closed off.ā You laughed lightly, but it was nervous, unsure of where this was even coming from. But suddenly all your senses were barraged by him, his smell, his eyes.
āI justāI havenāt thought about it. Relationships, I mean. Not in a long time. I donāt know if Iām even ready for anything like that. Not now, not with everything Iām doing.ā You trailed off, self-conscious, suddenly feeling like you were saying too much, rambling without stopping. The words seemed to just slip out of you, tumbling over each other.
You took another shaky breath, your heart thudding in your chest as you tried to make yourself stop, but you couldnāt. It was like you were helpless.
āAnd, I mean, if anybody were to kiss meā¦ā You faltered, realizing too late just how much you were giving away. Your pulse quickened, your thoughts jumbled as your mouth just kept moving. āI would want that person to be you.ā
The air between you thickened, the silence stretching long and heavy. Your heart pounded in your chest, a nervous rhythm that drowned out everything else. You waited for him to say something, to break the tension that was suffocating you. But there was nothing. Just the weight of his gaze on you, steady and searching.
When you finally dared to glance at him Viktor's expression was unreadable. One thick eyebrow was cocked slightly, and his mouth hung open just enough to suggest he was about to say something, but didn't. He was so close but somehow the distance between you felt infinite.
You opened your mouth to say something, to fill the silence, but before you could speak, his hand moved, his fingers brushing against your jaw in the gentlest touch. The sudden warmth of his palm made your breath catch, and before you could even fully process it, he was pulling you in. His lips met yours, soft at first, as though testing the waters, as if the moment itself was delicate. But that softness didn't last, between the buzz of alcohol, the closeness, the heat between youāit all blurred together. The kiss deepened, quickly turning urgent, hungry. His hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as the bottle slipped from your grasp, its clang against the concrete floor echoing in the quiet of the rooftop
You didn't care. You were too lost in the feeling of him against you, his lips moving against yours with a desperate kind of need. The kiss grew messierā clumsy, teeth scraping, tongues tangling. You could taste the faint sweetness of wine on him, the mix of flavors making everything feel dizzying overwhelming.
You found yourself gripping his shirt, pulling him closer, as if trying to merge your bodies together, desperate for the contact, for whatever it was that had been building between you two for so long.Ā
-
The next day was a harsh slap of hangover reality. Your head pounded, your mouth was dry, and every time you glanced at Viktor across the room, your stomach flipped in a way that had nothing to do with the booze.
Jayce, of course, was none the wiser. He chatted away over breakfast like nothing had changed, blissfully unaware of the shift that had unraveled everything you thought youād had under control. And you? You were wholly committed to keeping it that way. It was a one-time thing, you told yourself. Just a fleeting, drunken thingāsomething you could both quietly bury and move on from.
At least, that was the plan.
Until it happened again. And then again.
Now it feels like a thread being pulled tighter and tighter, until youāre not sure if youāre going to unravel completely or snap under the weight.
This wasnāt supposed to happen. But here you are. And you donāt know how to stop.
Today on Twitter dot com the algorithm tried to influence me to speed run my own death. I have never used Temu nor have I ever ridden a motorcycle, and I am also a minor yet somehow I am the target demographic for this ad. Love to see Elon using his platform responsibly.
Well, let me just take a look at this "strongest card..."
The... the clear sense of genuine pride, establishing the cardholder as reclaiming the slur... the vacant expression of the Pikmin, from the hit video game Pikmin, for the Nintendo GameCube...
Oh my God, it even uses the original Gilbert Baker pride flag., wait wahts that sound is somebody screamiAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAA FUCK AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA THE BLAST AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA DUDE FUUUUUUUCK
Welcome to the TWO BLONDE PEOPLE DATING TOURNAMENT! Inspired by every couple tournament Iāve seen, plus one specific tweet that lives rent free in my head, welcome to the tournament where you can submit your favorite blonde on blonde couples!
Rules:
- no real people
- no bigotry of any kind will be tolerated
- no Harry Potter or MCYT
- only canon or heavily implied to be canon couples
- natural blondes and fake blondes are both accepted!
- ALL BLONDES OF ALL RACES ARE OF COURSE ALLOWED. BLONDE IS A STATE OF MIND, AND FAKE BLONDES ARE BELOVED HERE TOO.
- QUEER COUPLES ARE ENCOURAGED!!!
- you can submit multiple couples, but donāt submit the same couple multiple times please
- all submissions will be taken via ask box
Format for submitting: āx character and x character from x media sourceā.
Please no acronyms or ship names in the submission. Lack of adherence to these guidelines will count for the submission to be rejected. I canāt count it if I canāt figure out what it means, Iām a blonde after all. /s
Updates on number of contestants and deadlines are coming soon!
Feel free to share this poll and tag other tournament blogs!
I just thought everyone would like this. The ādefaultā human in my biochem class was a female body. Itās something so small but this Kinda thing matters. Itās so common that a male body is shown as the default when studying biology and anatomy, so itās refreshing to recognize the inherent bias.
Hey radfems, I need some advice/words of wisdom/reassurance.
I trust yāall to give me the truth, so here goes nothing
Iām basically caught in a shitstorm because some incel decided to stalk me. Title IX is bullshit, so Iām going through the legal system to get him behind bars and behind a restraining order. The restraining order is an endless loop of him not showing up in court so it keeps getting rescheduled indefinitely. Turns out he was involved in some serious nazi shit and was organizing a bombing. Homeland security and fbi got involved (postponing the trial). Iām scared to be honest. Iām scared that pressing charges is like batting a hornets nest. FBI called me last week to inform me that the state is going ahead and try him regardless since he is a threat to National security, but they want me to testify to the stalking in a separate trial. Heās a freak and he scares the shit out of me. He knows all this got out because of me and me alone. He confessed to me and I went to the cops with it. Iām terrified of retaliation. Iām scared this is going to begin an endless cycle of threats and stalking that will leave me looking behind my back for life. I donāt care how mean this sounds, but he told me he was suicidal and I just wish heād go ahead and do it already. No one needs another nazi around. No one needs another sex offender around. Or a stalker. Or a homophobe. Or a misogynist piece of shit. Or a bomber. I wish he could just have the fucking balls to either do it or to have the common decency to just leave me the fuck alone. But I know he wonāt.
What should I do? Btw I left out a bunch of details because a lot of the investigation is confidential, especially the fbi part. I just need some words of wisdom or reassurance because Iām scared for the future. Iām an 18 y/o very femme lesbian if that helps. Thanks yāall. Iāve always been distrustful of men all my life but this situation has only served to confirm all my fears in the worst way.
Using all the tags because I want the right people to find this.
At a previous job (removing invasive carp from the Mississippi river) we would get lots of bycatch. While most native species could just be tossed back in the water and do just fine, paddlefish are a lot more Fragile and really don't do good when out of the water. To help them, we would pull them through the water to force it over their gills and give them a jump start. The best place to grab them is by the rostrum. It's all very scientific, but I couldn't help but feel funny grabbing these goobers by the schnozz taking them for a ride