#no serious things on this page

[mxflowercheck]

Mystrade date but they are both dummies and workaholics, so they BOTH are almost falling asleep at the table

[cozylittleartblog]

Columbo and the Knight (1984)

put me in the universe where Columbo ran through the 1980s and had a crossover episode with Knight Rider. I think they deserved it, and I am not just saying that because they're my two favorite Old Shows. @telebeast wrote a little fanfic blurb about it and I HAD to visualize it into a comic (which is also the longest comic I have finished thus far at five pages...), so writing credit goes to them.

Autism W!

[angstflavoured]

i never realized, in the beginning of weirdmaggedon 1, bill says that he's "been trapped inside my own decaying dimension." Ik a lot of people depict him like going other places after destroying his universe, but I guess that he really couldn't. that was the whole point of him trying to get ford to build the portal for him, so he WOULDN'T be stuck in the 2d dimension. everyone he met, he met through traveling through the nightmare dimension and the dreamscape. He'd never seen any of them in person.... which would mean that his physical self had to be stuck on euclydia, right??? that means every time he wasn't invading people's dreams, every time he woke up, he was right back at his home dimension where he killed everyone. Just kinda... i dunno, floating in space? like oh my fucking god, no wonder he was never able to get over it for millions of years. jesus christ yeah the guy needs therapy, every single one of his wounds are scabs that never got to even start the healing process.

[mimimar]

i've been completely charmed by witch hat atelier♡

(art prints)

[thresholdbb]

what's the threshold theory

There was a post about how Tom is the only crew member who isn't really affected by the Borg, and there's a theory that he has so much luck because he saw the past and the future when he crossed the transwarp threshold. He saw the past and the future, all of time and space. There's some subconscious part of him that remembers that experience. In fact, Tom refused to play a part in Chakotay indulging Annorax's temporal incursions, probably because a part of him knew nothing good could come of it.

If we extend that same theory to Janeway, some of her wild luck with time travel and other crack plans starts to make sense. She doesn't verbally hate time travel until after the events of Threshold, since it happens in Time and Again without complaint. Janeway has an uncanny knack for time travel, as evidenced every time she deals with it. She hates time travel, but it might be because part of her knows exactly how to manipulate the timeline. She manages to avoid the "inevitable" temporal explosion in Future's End, saving both Voyager and Braxton. She resets the entire timeline in Year of Hell, and no one else followed her reasoning. She pulled it off flawlessly. In Relativity, she senses the incidents are all related, despite it being just one reading that connects them. By the time she's involved, she has a temporal incursion factor of .0036 and a time travel protocol named after her, even if that may just be Braxton's personal grudge. Then there's Endgame, where she intentionally changes the timeline. Up until this point, she has been dragged into time travel, but for the first time, she jumps in on purpose. How does Admiral Janeway know how to get them home sooner in a way that completely avoids the Temporal Integrity Commission? It's because she has seen all of time, and part of her knows exactly what needs to happen so she can get Voyager home and do it in a way that becomes baked into the prime timeline. Maybe she doesn't consciously remember what happened during her transformation, but the experience lives in her mind somewhere, guiding her decisions.

[heybiji]

[housecow]

I am surprised that you still can't find a partner. You're gorgeous, interesting and cute at the same time.

(probably because you may be a federal agent)

i suffer from “can’t communicate effectively because of anxiety” BUT it’s getting a lot better!!!

i’ve also had a lot of “you are great but i’m seeing someone else now, bye” experiences. like, this happened three times. two in one year 😭 it takes a while to get over that and restore your self confidence, lol!!

[luck-of-the-drawings]

"I think this is the most inhuman; and human, that I've ever felt.." MUCH CAN HAPPEN IN A YEAR. IN FIVE YEARS. A DECADE. imagine how much can happen in a century. just ONE (1). How will you grow? what phases do you find? even in 5 years, you will find patterns.

[luuxxart]

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🌟updates Saturday and Sunday🌟

✨(read tags for extra info!)✨

[sforzesco]

CARRION EATER

this is some kind of standalone idea. the original version was much more goofy, crassus was going to cover up pompey's mouth and say, 'no, no. he's got a point. let him speak,' and then pompey was going to bite his hand and say, 'you're not even supposed to BE here.'

then I read a review about a staging of julius caesar that sounded like it got REALLY mean (because it involved improv since it seemed like the intention was supposed to be interactive with the audience) and decided to add some teeth into it.

(also yes, I broke the 180 rule. it’s fine. usually I try to include panels that show characters walking around when I do that, but this comic was a standalone, so instead pretend that I’m spinning the theoretical cameraman around on an office chair or something. or that the camera is a ghost.)

also because titling something Carrion Eater and then NOT having it get a little mean and nasty in the dialogue seemed. like a waste.

eventually, I'll figure out a design for lucullus that I like, I keep wanting to draw other characters when I draw him, so he might need a new hairstyle.

ONWARDS! this is playing off of this scene

To this Lucullus retorted that Pompey was going forth to fight an image and shadow of war, following his custom of alighting, like a lazy carrion-bird, on bodies that others had killed, and tearing to pieces the scattered remnants of wars. For it was in this way that he had appropriated to himself the victories over Sertorius, Lepidus, and the followers of Spartacus, although they had actually been won by Metellus, Catulus, and Crassus. Therefore it was no wonder that he was trying to usurp the glory of the Pontic and Armenian wars, a man who contrived to thrust himself in some way or other into the honour of a triumph for defeating runaway slaves.

Plutarch, Pompey 31

the romans are fightingggggg 🍿🍿🍿

finally, the painting panel is taken from Giovanni Battista Tiepolo's The Triumph of Marius (through the Met's Open Access/Public Domain use policy etc)

bsky ⭐ pixiv ⭐ pillowfort ⭐ cohost

[cfffrk]

WW2 AU

PART 1

(+2scetches)

One September day, B. Wooster found out about Jeeves' disappearance from Aunt Dahlia's telegram.

Early summer of 1940. Bertram Wooster was completing his studies at an aviation school. At the same time his faithful valet, Jeeves, temporarily went to the service of the already mentioned relative at Brinkley Court and became the second jewel in the staff of servants besides the highly talented cook Anatole.

Due to the straitened financial situation of Uncle Tom, who complained more and more about the increasing taxes, the dearest aunt had to take forced measures and fire a few servants. She wanted to make a small sacrifice, and it might have been enough if one day her stingy husband had not cut the already small wages of the remaining servants. Many of them had applied for dismissal after that, and they were quite understandable.

This radical decision, although to a lesser extent, also affected Jeeves. Nevertheless, he continued to be a professional. He fulfilled his basic duties and often helped her, and her old friends get out of troubles.

Within a few months of Jeeves' work, they had become friends. Bertram almost felt like a third wheel in this idyll when he came to visit and boast of his achievements. Aunt Dahlia treasured her new valet and his unrivalled intelligence, and often jokingly promised in letters to her nephew that Jeeves would be returned safe and sound.

That was why she was seriously worried when Jeeves went missing. One clear day in early September, an elderly relative had let him go to London on his own business. In addition to this, it was Jeeves' duty to check on their good old Berkeley Mansions flat from time to time and keep it clean, so he planned to finish his business by evening and stay in the city overnight. He was supposed to return early the next morning. But that never happened. Not in two days. Not in three.

That night London was bombarded.

Something seemed to snap and collapse inside Bertie when he learnt that the search for Jeeves had been fruitless. Neither his relatives nor his club could shed any light on his mysterious disappearance.

The dark thoughts from which Bertram had fled during the day caught up with him at night. He would toss and turn on the hard bed, thinking of Jeeves's fate and replaying happy memories of their past, and in the daytime, tired and broken, he would give his duty to his country.

The whole situation seemed strange and unreal to him. The only thing that was found out for sure was that no one appeared in the apartment that miraculously survived the monstrous raids that day. It was dusty.

A couple of months had passed since the tragedy that divided Bertie's life into before and after. The war continued. He was learning to adjust to his new reality.

Sometimes he managed to carve out some free time and pop into London for a bit. The city where he had lived more than a third of his life was in ruins. The familiar places where he used to meet his friends and have a good time were empty.

Your humble servant avoided going into that very flat. There were too many vivid memories of that place, which painfully and mercilessly squeezed Bertram Wooster's poor skull. Indeed, the most precious person in his life had been living at his side all that time.

But still, as the sole and responsible owner of his property, he had to overpower himself. He had to go in and make sure that everything was all right. And one such day Bertie found himself there, in their former cozy home.

He walked in and looked around the living room: a layer of dust covering almost everything, furniture wrapped in covers, and only a few of his own things that he had left or forgotten here. The piano was covered with a cloth. Unbearably quiet and lifeless. There was nobody else to keep order here, nobody else's hand to create the home comfort. Sorrowful feelings pressed upon his chest.

He looked all over the flat. Almost all of it. There was only one room left to check.

After a moment's hesitation, Bertram pulled himself together and went into Jeeves's room. He had only glimpsed it from inside before. It was modest and not as spacious as his bedroom. Wooster sat down on the perfectly made bed, looking at what little was left of his dear friend, guide, and philosopher. His eyes rested on the various books dusting the shelves and cupboards.

He recognized one of them. It was the volume of Spinoza's writings he had given Jeeves for his birthday. No doubt Jeeves had read it all. As the rest of the books in the room. Bertie remembered his politely grateful smile and how he had clearly decided that this fellow deserved a whole library of those Spinozas.

He got out of bed. The code of the Woosters did not allow him to touch other people's things (even if those things belonged to a man who might never come back into his life), but something outweighed the young master's unwavering principles that day.

He didn't even notice how he left the flat with the book in his hands.

Of course, this sort of talisman invariably occupied a place in his suitcase. Though he had endeavored to handle the book with care, it had become tattered with the passage of time. Bertram often held it in his hands, flicked through the pages, ran his eyes over the neat pencil notes of its former owner. It calmed him a little in the most difficult moments of his pilot practice. He didn't understand anything about philosophy, but he treasured this book too damn much.

When they reunited, they were about a year away from the end of the war. The house with their previous flat was in a state of emergency damaged by the recent bombing raids, so Jeeves looked for a new flat for them while his employer was still undergoing treatment.

It happened some time later after their move-in. Jeeves was doing his household chores while the young master followed him around and chattered about anything that came into his head. It would have annoyed anyone, but not Jeeves.

You see, he had been abroad for a long time. However, he was not on holiday. Against his will, he was assigned important tasks and missions which he had to fulfil if he did not want to lose his freedom, his successful career, his reputation, his family, and friends. The special promise of making one particular person's life unbearable also left him no choice.

Every day, Jeeves felt like he was sitting on a powder keg: at any moment, a surprise inspection could come through the doors of his headquarters. A highly undesirable event for a man who kept fake documents, weapons, and encrypted data transmission devices in his flat. But all possible escape routes had been carefully worked out and memorized: Jeeves was always prudent. Otherwise, he had to have time to take a special pill before he found himself tied to a chair in a small interrogation room.

Keeping his charm and politeness, he was effective in getting the right information from the right people. His knowledge of psychology and accumulated experience of working with people helped him in this.

Jeeves' missions were rarely close to failure. His life depended on it.

The slightest mistake could have been fatal to him. Of course, he had learned much about the country during his training to pass for a typical Frenchman. His French had been practically flawless even before, which only made his life easier. But still somewhere in the back of his mind was the fear that he would be exposed for the smallest inaccuracy.

Jeeves lived under a false identity with a fake life story. He changed outwardly and inwardly. His gait, the way he spoke, his body language, his facial expressions. He had complete control over his body. Especially his gaze, which could tell a lot about his thoughts. It was exhausting.

After a long time of living in this way, he began to have trouble sleeping: he slept very little and sensitively or could not fall asleep at all.

He rarely had any dreams during the restless hours when he was able to fall asleep. Sometimes he had nightmares. But they were not about him. They were about Mr Wooster. Same scenario: church, flowers, closed coffin. Then it would slowly open from the inside. And Jeeves would wake up in a cold sweat.

On sleepless nights, he was also tormented by thoughts of his former employer. Where was he now? Was he all right? Was he even alive? How did he feel about his disappearance? Would he want to see him again...?

Jeeves felt his mind, which he relied on in the most critical situations, begin to fail.

Meeting his employer again and doing the household chores for him, he felt himself slowly getting his head in order. He was enjoying the much-anticipated company of Mr Wooster. It soothed him and made him feel at home.

Jeeves opened the closet to put the ironed clothes in it. The young master standing next to him had been lost in the chatter and missed the moment when he should have pulled him back. In the next moment Jeeves had pulled the ruined book out of the wardrobe the same way as he pulled out foreign clothes. By the title of the book, he thought at first that his master was interested in serious literature. But on closer look and leafing through the book, he realized that it was his own.

Bertie watched it silently with his eye wide open. He couldn't just get rid of it, but at the same time he was ashamed to return a book in such a terrible condition to its owner. He planned to buy the exact same one soon, but until then, this volume of essays would be safely hidden away. But here his innocent secret was revealed. Jeeves looked at him with a silent question in his eyes.

He tried to justify himself, but this particular Wooster was a bad liar. Especially when the pent-up feelings were starting to overwhelm him. Jeeves often let his employer fool him about little things, but they both knew very well that it was actually impossible to do this. A couple of precise laconic remarks and B. Wooster found himself disarmed. He took a breath of air and began to speak.

Jeeves listened patiently to his poor master with a mask of calmness pulled over his face and dared not interrupt.

He was sorry. He was deeply sorry for the pain he had caused Mr Wooster and his dear people by his forced departure. However, Jeeves spoke little and reluctantly about what he had been doing in recent years and did not tell anyone about the very reasons for his disappearance. This information could have caused a lot of trouble.

And Bertram realized it. His Jeeves could not just disappear for no reason, he was sure of it. But sometimes, in the deep sleepless night, a wild guess would cross his weary mind. What if Jeeves had run away, had simply abandoned him? Of course, Bertie had scolded himself for such thoughts in the mornings then. And today when Jeeves prepares breakfast for him, reminds him to take his medicine, and helps him to dress, that idea seems to him on the verge of sanity. But then he was quite capable of finding irrefutable evidence in all sorts of little things. At that time, he did not know what to think: the search for the injured had ended, Jeeves remained on the list of missing persons.

Bertram stood before him and could find no more words. But words were no longer needed. Jeeves looked at him with bright, penetrating eyes and the silence that settled in the room was filled with peace. Jeeves was truly touched. He felt a huge boulder fall from his soul.

It seemed now, as his employer lowered his head dejectedly and hid his wet eyes from him, they had the perfect moment to dot the «i».

It's been a long day.

Of course, this book stayed in their new flat and became a symbol of something important for them. Bertram, Jeeves' poor love, had indeed taken desperate measures then.

However, Jeeves pointed out that such measures would no longer be necessary.

For now, he would be there for him. He came back.

[necrotic-nephilim]

What's so fun about BruJay as a ship is Jason's sheer obsessive devotion to Bruce. Jason is possessive over Bruce, to the point he doesn't care about the deaths of others so long as he has Bruce's attention. A part of the UTRH arc this isn't talked about enough is that Bludhaven fucking explodes mid-way and Jason won't let Bruce see if Dick is alive.

batman (1940) #650

A lot of discussion about UTRH paints Jason as this anger-driven cold, calculating machine up against Bruce when it's so clear that his love for Bruce is what drives him at his root, even if he won't acknowledge it. He says it himself, he would've done anything if it was Bruce who'd died instead of him and his anger is rooted in that possessive devotion not being reciprocated.

batman (194) #650

BruJay as a ship always to be, to some level, unrequited. Even if Bruce loves Jason back in that way, he'll never be that obsessed with Jason. Jason will always view Bruce's love for Dick or Tim to be a distraction, proof that Bruce isn't dedicated enough to him. Jason has the need to always have Bruce's attention, even when it could come at the cost of Bruce's other loved ones. Something something cannibalism as a metaphor for love in how Jason wants to consume Bruce's whole existence. He can't let Bruce leave him again, can't let Bruce love or grieve anyone else. Forcing Bruce to choose between Jason and the Joker isn't just about confronting Jason's killer, it's about confronting the other person who exists as this duality with Bruce and consumes so much of Bruce's life. That's the role Jason wants to fill, calling himself Red Hood and forcing Bruce to look at what he's become. But still loving Bruce and wanting more than anything for Bruce to reciprocate that love in the way that Jason understands. I just think it's good soup and rife with Dynamics that are underexplored with them.

[gwandas]

N*ssian stans acting like it’s unreasonable to expect an "I love you" in a romance novel is kinda hilarious honestly.

[shortnotsweet]

HEAD HEART HANDS: “TURNING A NEW PAGE”

Charlotte is hardwired for realism. It’s a hefty task, given the present company and the dubious physics that have kept them all alive for the past few years, but if a resume could receive an A+, her feats in risk assessment and time-sensitive innovation deserved it. Charlotte would know; she installed the updates herself. Still, with the leader of their trio absent and Jasper dealing with impossibilities on the side, the biggest challenge these days is seeing eye-to-eye.

[ Jasper and Charlotte discuss Henry’s leave of absence, as well as his radio silence. ]

The mythology of Greek craftsman, inventor, and architect Daedalus has been cited by a variety of sources, including Homer, Pliny the Elder (Pliny’s Natural History, AD 77-79), and Plato, the latter of which interpreted his inventory and intellect as a parallel for the pursuit of truth. Pliny credited him with the invention of carpentry, as well as ship sails and masts, in addition to sculptures so lifelike they may as well have been animated; his genius was so evident that life was born into the wood. The most famous of his feats, however, was the tale of wings constructed out of wax, and the fall of his son, Icarus, into the sea.

It’s one thing to live in pursuit of knowledge. It’s not like that’s a bad thing, per se. Plenty of people do, and are perfectly content people with no lingering emotional or psychological hangups. That being said, the itch of knowing and the object of doing are not the same. For doctors who treat the sick in the morning and the engineers who study maths to reach the moon, knowledge alone is poor sustenance. For years—too early—invention has been a means of civic duty. She is too clever to fall into the sea unplanned, but she’s not heartless. She’ll make them wings, and a parachute. She left Harvard and the future she’d made for herself to follow the people she loved. Love—to the point of modification. To the point of invention.

[starwrighter]

I am not a baby!! (yes you are)

(Ao3) (Masterpost) (Previous) (Next)

(Chapter 17 long ass chappy!!)

As expected, his plan worked! Dami managed to scare off the other Leviathan! The shallows were finally safe again! For the time being at least. Danny paced around his base, celebrating this victory with a thawed peeper. He pondered throwing one to Dami, but they still had yet to make any attempt of eating any fish. Plus, the leviathan might see his offering as an opportunity to chow down on him. They were temporary allies through a shared enemy, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a potential snack. 

Maybe he should be more concerned about the existence of a third species of leviathan. After all, the existence of three suggests there might be more. Scratch that there were more and that he was certain of. Dami was a graft of two species and Taser fish wasn’t the parent neither was the giant beta fish-looking guy from lurking near Lifepod three. . According to the scanners on his Lifepod, this was a planet mostly composed of water it’d make sense there’d be more nightmare death creatures swimming around in the depths of the ocean. He could easily avoid them if he tried hard enough. A quantum detonation, however, was a threat he couldn’t run from or throw hands with. At least not effectively that is. 

Danny looked down at his message log with a wince. He’d take more nightmare-death fish over the Aurora exploding any day of the week. At least he could fight the leviathans. How was he supposed to fight the genetic meltdown of a peeper blasted with the radioactive energy of a small power plant? It would be like Chernobyl all over again and he wouldn’t have the industrial equipment to clean up the fallout. 

The nuclear power generator was one of the blueprints stripped from his PDA by the crash, as were the disposal protocols that came with it. He had no way to fabricate anything but a primitive water filter. It wasn’t even one of the grayed-out blueprints like the battery charger; it just didn’t exist in his PDA. He wouldn’t be surprised if baby mode blocked the recipe out. It let him build a knife but it wouldn’t let him play with a nuclear reactor the PDA Truly was the most responsible piece of technology on this planet.

God speed Alterra…

Danny snickered, swiping through the screens of his PDA looking desperately for something he could do to help. Was there anything he could do? There wasn’t a blueprint for a radiation suit in his PDA but he was a Fenton! They got irradiated for breakfast. He could at least try, to fix things for both him and the survivors.

Taking out his sea glide Danny shot out his sea base like a speeding bullet. Time is limited and it was slipping through his fingers with every moment he wasted anxiously waiting for the perfect opportunity to help. There had to be at least one life pod that landed in near the Aurora someone who was either stuck in their pods or getting blasted by the bad vibes of the Aurora’s drive core.

Dami watched him intently from the edge of the shallows. Clicking teeth and a worried croon from the leviathan as Danny crept closer to where the crash site should be. He only swam a few feet before Dami bolted from his spot in the sand hands attempting to nudge him back to the shallows. 

With puffed-up cheeks, Danny nipped at the other darting around the leviathan's tail to further his journey. He couldn’t go back to the shallows. He wouldn’t sit there uselessly until things literally blew up in his face. Dami didn’t know how dangerous things could get. He didn’t know the catastrophic consequences this could have on his home.

The waters were murky sand yet to settle and debris scattered across the sand. Any plant life the biome had previously cultivated was crushed, uprooted, and torn apart by the impact. The wrecks in the crash site made the shallows look clean. Metal torn apart like playdough were scattered throughout clouded waters. Not a single place was clear of debris, a burning sensation in his palms the longer he swam.

A stabbing pain like a jackhammer to the skull hit him like a truck. Nausea broiled in his stomach, bile rising up his throat. Danny didn’t stop swimming not when the edges of his vision began to blur not when Dami desperately tried to push him back. Snapping teeth and swiping through the water in an attempt to intimidate him into turning back. Danny didn’t care, he… he had to do something, he had to try.

His PDA screamed, a glitching image that looked concerningly similar to what you’d find on one of the barrels in his parents' lab flashed on screen. It sounded painful, the tablet flashing like a strobe light and a shrieking noise filling his ears. Any words jumbled, thousands of audio cues playing over each other and meshing into of mess of trailed-off screams cut off when the screen went blank.

Fuck.

Shit… That wasn’t a good sign, was it? His pounding head made it hard to truly wrap his head around what just happened. If death would be permanent this time would anyone even know what happened to him? Every distress call he’d responded to every destroyed life pod he found… All of them were gone, reduced to nothing, only a splotch of red if they were lucky. If his PDA was broken how would his family know what happened to him?

Dami screeched, a noise so high-pitched it made his ears ring. The leviathan wrapped his entire body around Danny, his claw barring him from escaping. Panic swirled through his mind before a lower, spine-tingling roar broke through the sea. Peaking through the gaps in Dami’s claws, Danny’s heart jumped into his throat.

A leviathan with a sickly gray body circled them. Pitch black eyes that held something primal. There wasn’t the gleam of intelligence in its behavior, just gnashing teeth and snapping mandibles. Decorated with red, muscle so defined you’d think that was all that made up the creature’s body.

Maybe it was the headache amplifying the noise but the guttural sounds the creature constantly let out were like a nuclear bomb. His eyes stung all he could do was watch as Dami snapped his tail like a whip, slashing at their attacker. Yellow blood spilled into the water and Danny couldn’t tell if it was Dami’s. 

Saying their attacker was aggressive would be an understatement. Nothing seemed to deter the creature. Dami’s strikes only seemed to piss it off further. Every impact from Dami’s tail pulled a furious shriek from the predator. It circled them like a shark, it didn’t care that Dami was much larger it just wanted to eat.

Pointing his scanner through the gaps in Dami’s claws seconds felt like hours as the tool worked its magic. On swing from this worm on steroids and he was triple dead! The thing could swallow him whole with no room left for seconds!

At least it would be a cool death. “Danny Fenton, cause of death; Radiation poisoning and fish bites,” He’d be proud to have that written in his obituary. If anyone survived to collect and fix his PDA it’d be one hell of a conversation starter.

His skin burned like he’d pressed himself against the surface of the sun. His dive suit felt like molten lava and his air tank felt like it was filled with smoke. Dami thrashed slapping the steroid fish into the sand.

They couldn’t keep going. If both he and his PDA were being affected by the radiation then so was Dami. Their attacker wouldn’t hesitate to finish them off if the radiation didn’t melt their internal organs into a shapeless goop. They needed a route to the Aurora that wasn’t surrounded by a toxic death field. But when the death field originated from the Aurora there wasn’t much he could do. There was no safe path to the Aurora so long as he was without a radiation suit.

Danny slapped his palms against Dami’s almost transparent skin. His oxygen running thin, he tugged the leviathan’s fins until the other turned to him. Hopefully, as another sentient creature, he could understand the plea of “Let’s get the fuck out of here before we both die a slow excruciating death,” 

Thankfully, he understood. As Dami snapped his tail at the creature one last time grabbing Danny by his oxygen tank and boosting away from the crash zone. The two of them cut through the water easily gliding faster than his seaglide could at its base. 

Dami wasn’t as muscular as their attacker but he made up for it in size, speed, and intelligence. If they’d stayed to finish the fight Dami was the obvious choice to bet on. He would’ve won if he hadn’t been focused on guarding Danny from being eaten.

When they finally reached the shallows Danny could’ve kissed the sand. He’d never been so relieved to be in the kiddy pool of this planet's ocean. He felt like crying, he’d never abandon his beloved biome of coral tubes again!

Thwack!

A Peeper charged into him, hitting him in the cheek full force. Was this revenge for the fridge? Dami let out what he could only assume was the fish equivalent of a laugh, gently batting the little blue fish away. Danny didn’t have the energy to smack the leviathan for this offense nor did he have the strength to chase the Peeper who attacked him. Sleep never seemed so sweet before but he knew if he slept now he might not wake up to see the light of day again.

Danny watched the faint yellow sparkles trailing behind the fish as it rubbed itself against plants and rocks. More social than the normal peepers swimming around. If you could count tackling everything in sight as a social behavior. Danny scrunched his nose at the offensive fish rubbing the glitter-like substance off his face. If this was how Peepers tried to make friends he’d have to say it’s ineffective. 

Danny turned back to the leviathan, yellow blood oozing from long thin scratches running along his tail. He frowned, that was his fault, wasn’t it? Dami had tried to stop him, likely knowing what lurked near the crash and Danny blatantly ignored him. He’d been naive, thinking he knew better than the literal native who’d likely lived on this planet his entire life. A stupid thing to do even with the risk of an explosion. Especially with the risk of an explosion, a deeper part of his psyche nagged, pulling the bile halfway up his throat. 

What if someone had been with him? Someone had been with him! Dami wasn’t indestructible. What if that thing managed to kill them both? What if he’d gotten Dami killed just by leading them in there? Radiation poisoning was an all but painless death. Vomiting your internal organs in their liquidized form wasn’t a fate he wished on anyone let alone an ally.

The visible injuries on the leviathan seemed to be minor. If the nonchalant way the leviathan lifted Danny to the surface with a clawed hand told him anything. It was good to know they had a mutual understanding that air was a necessity for him. Accidentally being drowned by an ally wasn’t on his list of ideal deaths. Maybe if this were a horror movie he’d be more welcoming to the idea so he could haunt people more than he usually did. 

Danny tapped Dami’s forehead alerting the leviathan to his next movements into the kelp forests. Dami stayed where he was in the shallows, keeping a keen eye on Danny from afar. He swallowed the bile rising up his throat keeping up his routine of bribing the stalkers. They were like gator-shaped trolls. Demanding a toll of fish snacks before they’d ensure a safe passage through the shallows. Some of the bolder ones approached him with open mouths. He didn’t even have to chuck it at them! 

“Warning, leviathan class creature in the area,” He yanked out his PDA brushing his fingers against the screen. The tablet's light was dim but it was working. He could swipe through the tabs and see what the fuck the AI was talking about. It’s a little late for a warning about the leviathan at the crash site.

Danny swiped through the tabs of his PDA landing on the new data entry he’d risked his ass for. Apparently, the empty-eyed fuck they’d been assaulted by was a reaper leviathan. All muscle, tiny brain, and no sense of morality. Danny didn’t know what kind of morals his PDA expected from a fish like that. Lancer always told him not to judge a book by its cover but holy fuck, if Vlad stood next to one of those guys he might actually look decent.

The warning popped up again and Danny’s anxiety spiked. Did a reaper follow them? Was it the Leviathan he’d seen back at life pod three? If it was the stalkers might get to him before he could get close enough to strike him.  He pulled out his blade glancing around the kelp forest. His eyes landed on a glimpse of blue poking out from behind an arch of stone. 

…

It was talking about Dami, wasn’t it? 

Dami was following him, hiding it quite poorly. It was honestly, embarrassing he hadn’t noticed it sooner. The leviathan was out of his depth, any camouflage the other could have possibly had was squandered by his size. It was probably his size that intimidated everything into not acknowledging him.

Danny ignored the leviathan, mostly to spare the other’s ego. Danny was like a needle in a haystack while Dami was like an elephant in the chicken coop and if this were a game of hide and seek Danny would’ve demolished him by now. 

Using his blade to cut off pieces of creep vine Danny pressed the kelp together, stashing as much as possible into his bag. The fiber mesh he’d make from this would make decent bandages if he couldn’t make the blankets he wanted.

Would bandages even work on Dami? Tying gauze around the leviathan's tail just seemed restrictive. The language barrier would ensure Dami wouldn’t understand he was trying to help. Dami would just see it as Danny mistakeingly assuming he could finish the Leviathan off after a risky encounter with a reaper. He winced, getting slapped to death by an ally would be such a lame way to die. 

There had to be some other way to ensure Dami didn’t die of sepsis or whatever other infections a giant fish teenager could contract. Who was equipped to deal with this kind of thing? A vet or a marine biologist because Danny lacked the qualifications for both professions. He was two for two when it came to dying, any medical advice he could give was just a health hazard. 

Danny swam back to the shallows, Dami clumsily following him. He wasn’t bleeding anymore and Danny could vaguely make out yellow scabs clotting over his injuries. Only time would tell if that was a good sign or not. If there was anything wrong with Dami he’d find a way to fix it. It was his moral obligation to do so. 

Dami protected them from a reaper and the oversized eel! While he’s pretty sure Dami knew electric fish, he still slapped him into pissing off! Making sure the leviathan didn’t die was the least he could do even if he was friends with the electric fish secretly.

The “fight” was far too similar to the ones he’d have Dani or Jazz. Less a fight to the death and more like one of the lectures he’d get from Jazz for doing something stupid. Not antagonistic like the fights he’d have with Vlad. It was more like when Dani would hide his model rockets in the walls when he pissed her off. Dami and the electric fish acted painfully similar to how he acted with his siblings.

Would he ever see them again?

Shaking his head, a croon rippled through shallow water. Dami stared at him with glowing eyes, an expression as concerned as a gigantic fish could get. He crooned again, louder this time. A call probably evolved to be heard in deeper open waters. It wasn’t as effective in the shallows, he could hear Dami anywhere in the shallows no matter how quiet the other tried to be. All this call served to do now was to add fuel to the fire of his splitting headache.

Danny held his head in his hands, Dami taking this as a cue to be a bit quieter. The next croon he let out was softer barely audible but he got his point across. This guy was weird. He fussed over Danny more than he fussed over himself to the point he cramped himself in the shallows to stay here with him. He belonged deeper down, ancients he’d be happier deeper down but he just…stayed here? Sure he tended to follow Danny whenever he had the opportunity but Danny had mostly stuck to the shallows so far. Was this the fish equivalent to tourism? Had the crash screwed over his home so badly he couldn’t live there anymore. 

Danny glanced back to Dami, the leviathan looked perfectly fine but he didn’t exactly have another member of his species to compare to. It was like he was perfectly comfortable acting as Danny’s personal guard dog.

…

….

He was like a dog to this guy, wasn’t he?

Looking down at his tiny hand Danny squeezed them into fists. Pathetic, hardly a threat at all. Dami’s a teenager and Danny is a itty bitty squishy thing smaller than any of the other survivors. He was like a stray puppy to this guy! Like a little Yorkie happy and cute. 

He scoffed choking on the mouthful of seawater that flooded into his mouth at the action. He wasn’t anyone’s pet! He was the farthest thing from a pet! Sure, he might’ve watched Dami fight like it was a Pokémon battle but he still thought of the guy as a sentient being. It all made sense now, this dude thought he was an animal! There was no way to correct him either! They didn’t speak the same language nor was there a way for them to learn at the moment. 

How would he even go about speaking to him anyway? What was he supposed to say? “Hey, dude sorry for catfishing you but I’m not your pet,” He’d probably be dismissed and then be treated like a parrot. 

Ancients, he’s too nauseous to deal with this shit. Dealing with anything else but this would be better than this. He was stuck with a teenager who was convinced he got a new puppy… No wonder he tapped on the window like a small child seeing the fish tank at the dentist for the first time. 

At least he wasn’t the type of teenager to “Play” rough with his pets. Back home Sam went ape shit on a group of senior boys who kept shooting BBs at one of the oldest boy’s cats. Danny had yet to be manhandled, thrown, or shot at, nor was there any attempt to put him down after he bit him multiple times.

Maybe he was more like a cat?

He wouldn’t degrade himself into being anyone’s catboy. The thought alone made him want to cry. Tucker would never let him hear the end of it if he found out. The hacker would have all the ammo he needed to take revenge for being called a furry so often. He couldn’t let this happen! There’s no way he’d allow himself to be treated like a pet. If Dami ever tried to pet him he’d get stabbed! Puffing up his chest, Danny turned foot and swam back to his base. 

His to-do list was completely and utterly fucked over. Fixing the Aurora had been his top priority but he couldn’t fix it without a radiation suit and a distraction for the buff death fish! It was just like back home, the moment he sat down to knock something off his ever-expanding to-do list the entire universe ganged up on him!  

{Proposed Desagi seabase (200m)}

The signal caught his attention. It was on one of the main tabs of his PDA along with the signals for the Lifepod he’s aware of. On the front page of his to-do list, as a sub-task of finding survivors was searching for the Desagi sea base. Scrunching his face Danny pondered. If the seabase even existed there could be something down there to help him. Even if he didn’t find a survivor, the information he could gain from this could be crucial to figuring out what the hell is going on with this planet.

With the date of Paul Torgal’s environmental log, he could tell the Desagi had been on this planet within the first month of communications with the ship had been lost. Had they ever left? Did they crash or land here willingly for some unknown reason? Was what happened to the Aurora connected to the Desagi? Hopefully, he’d get his answers when he went down to explore.

Staring blankly at the signal, he studied the coordinates and the environmental log thoroughly. The cave he’d entered previously had multiple entrances. It was only logical if members of the Desagi were to build a seabase they’d build it close to an entrance. It was further into the cave system than the entrance he’d swam through had led him. 

He could search around for another cave entrance closer to the signal but it was still 200m down. His lower oxygen needs gave him a leg up but it could only carry him so far. His ability kept him from drowning in shallow water but anything deeper than 100m and it was game over, no restarts or save points!

With his current oxygen tank, he wouldn’t have the time to find the seabase let alone explore it. When the entire point of finding the seabase was exploring, it made his air tank seem about as useful as a warning label on a stick of dynamite. Any idiot with common sense could tell going down there without some kind of plan for oxygen was a sheer way to drown. While his common sense was sparse he still had it.

The blueprints for a seamoth were still missing so he’d have to go on a scavenger hunt for not only the blueprint but the resources to build it. Danny could only wonder how the Seamoth would be altered for him. The seaglide was made slightly smaller but what was it supposed to do about what was essentially just an underwater car? Pedal extensions, A controller, maybe just an autopilot? That was all he was willing to work with, a booster seat was too humiliating for his bruised ego to take. 

Along with a seamoth he’d need to upgrade his tank and replace the batteries for his seaglid. The seaglide drained power like spectra drained the happiness from children.

Digging through his storage lockers he scavenged the glass he needed for his new air tank. He fed the fabricator the ingredients waiting eagerly as the light show began. A loud jarring noise sounded from his PDA the moment the new air tank touched his hands. 

“New blueprint acquired.” The robotic voice drawled.

Danny glanced down at the tablet, staring slack-jawed at the appearance of the rebreather on his list of blueprints. Convenient, he didn’t dare question the PDA’s choice of only giving him the blueprint now instead of after all the other times he almost died. It was painfully easy to gather the materials he needed. With the creepvine he’d collected earlier he was set to make the rebreather.

Now all he had to do was get past Dami…

Why did he have a feeling that was going to be easier said than done?

@ashoutinthedarkness @avelnfear @meira-3919 @thought-u-said-dragon-queen @hugsandchaos @blep-23 @zeldomnyo @bytheoldwillowtree @justwannabecat @shepherdsheart @starlightcat04 @stargazing-bookwyrm @pupstim @dragongoblet @noxcheshire

[st4rstudent]

I don't like to post about this stuff publicly but I'm tired of seeing ppl interact with this person while also following me, so I want to let you all know that if you follow/interact with Saturnflower841 then unfollow and block me.

They're very, very vocal about being a prshipper on here, in fact it doesn't even take a lot of scrolling to find the stuff they're talking about. Recently they posted a ship chart saying that they ship parentxchild and siblingxsibling and if you scroll further you can find even more. On top of that, on their twitter (Saturnstuff20), they broke other peoples boundaries by following people who had prship DNI in bio. This is not a callout, do NOT go into their askbox or anything it does literally nothing. This is more of an awareness post for my sake of mind and for anyone who doesn't know. If you do know and keep interacting then block me because I don't want you here.