#vomit draft

[prozac-shaped-urn]

I feel like a lot of newer writers seem to be under the impression that experienced writers churn out beautiful work with no effort in no time and with no forethought. That just… IS NOT true.

Does writing get easier with practice? Yes. Everything does. You learn what your strengths are and how to least painfully vomit out the first draft.

But it’s never an immediate thing. You don’t have a polished draft on your first draft. It’s called a draft for that reason. You’re drafting something onto a page. You’re creating a framework. You’re building a foundation you can add to.

Does it suck to be in that very steep learning curve when you’re just starting out? FUCK YES IT DOES!!! But it’s a requirement if you’re gonna get better. It sucks, but it’s required. It’s on the job training, baby. Buckle in and hang on.

That being said—and to demystify this concept of a writer who’s been writing prose for 20+ years having a first draft that remotely resembles anything decent to publish—do y’all wanna see my vomit draft? I’ll fucken post it. I’m dead serious. I’ve had it with newer writers being hard on themselves for not writing a Pulitzer Prize-winning first draft, ok?

[a-curious-studyblr]

Essay/dissertation writing tip: just sit down a type up a vomit draft of a section of anything! First drafts are made to be messy. Write informally, write with spelling mistakes, just keep typing! Don't worry about writing the finished piece and writing it perfectly, just write something for now

[http-tokki]

if you’re unwell and have locked yourself in the bathroom, katsuki will NOT hesitate to breakdown the door. not in a scary kinda way but in the kinda way where you’ve called out to him because you need him but you can’t get to the door because you’re stuck with your head in the toilet. he knocks once softly, then again with a lil more force and then the third he’s asking if you’re anywhere near the door and when you answer with a weak “no” you hear a loud crash and suddenly your bathroom door is lying on your tiled floor, and Katsuki has your hair pulled back in his hands.

“did you just breakdown my door?” you ask quietly, wiping the back of your mouth with your hand, attention shifting to the broken piece of wood.

“you needed me.” is his only reply as you turn back to the bowl and spill your guts once again.

[slavhew]

jakey + dirkjake sandwiched between my organic chem notes. a poem in there somewhere

[lostagoodcigar]

Brought to you by a tiktok where this guy was talking abt a girl he was seeing and how every time they had sex she’d give him a little treat afterwards (like a lil candy bar)

Like it starts when you jokingly toss Johnny one of the chocolates you had sitting on your nightstand after he ate you out like his life depended on it- he eats the candy immediately obviously as he laughs

Then you end up with a little candy dish on the nightstand, or in the drawer, any time you and Johnny have sex you give him a piece of candy, throw him a bone so to speak. Not on purpose but you think it’s cute- the way his face lights up when given the candy

You find yourself fucking somewhere in the house that isn’t the bedroom? Johnnys right behind you as you make your way to your shared room for his treat, not even realizing he’s doing it.

Whether you forget on purpose or on accident one day he just kinda stands in the kitchen like a kicked puppy and, “didn’t do somethin’ to upset ya did I hen?” His head tilted to the side slightly.

“What? No- what do you mean?” You are genuinely confused until he mumbles a “didn’t get my treat- ya know-“

You have to stop yourself from laughing as you ruffle his slightly overgrown mohawk before you’re off to the bedroom to toss him his little candy.

Honorable mention: I’d like to think Johnnys somehow ended up explaining this to the others, maybe just Ghost at first. And Ghost immediately understands it and is thankful his smile is covered by his balaclava- leave it to Johnny to get himself trained like a good dog

Basically what im trying to say is doing this to Soap would have him so down bad I think

[yuri-is-online]

May peepaw enjoyers be peepaw havers, whenever that banner drops, amen (ㅅ˘˘)

[comatosebunny09]

you're good at this—playing all coy and social as if you aren't a clump of nerves ready to burst.

like your legs aren't bouncing beneath the table, and you haven't knocked your knees against its underside a few times, almost spilling your wine.

like you haven't bitten your lips to hell, and your teeth aren't stained with the pretty rouge of your lipstick because of it.

no one's the wiser to your plight. to the quiet war waging in your head and the anxiety spilling like lava into your extremities.

you'll never get used to this things, no matter how many you attend—these parties, these galas, these socialites, this acting.

none of it is you.

not the form-fitting gowns, the kohl clumped to your lashes, the facsimile of a smile you've worn all evening until your cheeks ached.

but through the chaos, one thing remains a constant: him.

him and the hand he has clasped around your thigh to tether you. anchor you back to earth. all big and warm and reassuring, and he's angling himself a little closer until your nostrils fill with the scent of cured leather and peeled mandarin. and, fuck all, he’s warm even from this proximity. so hot, you feel the pressure of his body slowly seeping into your own.

his eyes gleam like the sunset in your peripheral. silently, they ask if you're alright beneath a slightly raised brow, above a customary smirk—a mask he dons during these gatherings if only to make the time fly by. not meant to tease you, he promises. he reserves something genuine for you.

he knows you're not alright, which is why he rubs all gently at the notch of your knee—an attempt to bring you back when you feel your mind slowly disconnecting from your body.

- at an event with sylus. you're clearly nervous. you always are. so the pair of you bid an irish goodbye, and he'll murder anyone who has the gall to stop you.

- watching him sneer at the partygoers blocking your exit is low-key a turn on.

- the night concludes with you both settled on your couch in your living room.

- and, of course, kissing ensues. because why wouldn't it?

- and he's a little handsy, so deft fingers creep up the expanse of your thigh because, of course, the slit of your dress would beckon such actions.

- and sure, yeah. you're into it as he gently pushes you back against the sofa. slots himself between your split legs as your fingers rake through the riot of his hair.

- and he hums all nice and low into your mouth, very much enjoying the sticky grind of your lips together.

- this is sylus. he's always gentle. always takes care of you, treating you like aged porcelain preserved in a museum.

- so why the fuck are you so nervous?

- you’ve made out a thousand times before.

- sex, however.

- well, fuck.

[robiinurheart33]

Ghost is starting to realise something.

It started off slow at first- pinpointing where soap was first in a room before the others, coincidentally spacing off in the same direction as soap, starting to follow soap wherever he went.

It’s nothing, really.

It’s nothing.

Nothing at all.

But it was really starting to bother him, the way Johnny started to get under his skin.

It pissed him off. Ghost always needs to be in his top condition during missions because one mistake could cost everything. How could he do that when before taking off soap would pat his shoulder and it felt like his ribs were caving in on him? How could anyone blame him when their thighs are pressed together, touching from ankle to shoulder and his heart would claw at his skin, begging to get out?

Or when soap would squeeze the nape of his neck as a friendly gesture and suddenly he was flushed and hot under the collar? Why was this happening to him? What is happening? Because all of a sudden Johnny’s summer, and he sinks into ghost’s bones and his skin, renders his muscles useless and his brain fuzzy and-

There’s something horribly wrong with him.

Johnny’s laughter makes his breathing pick up, it makes his fingers tremble and he wants to take that laughter and keep it in a locket to hang around his neck. Johnny makes ghost want to throw him against a wall and also cradle his face like it’s the most precious thing in the world. Johnny’s summer because he makes Ghost’s cold heart feel warmth again, makes him think of flip flops, missing teeth, shiny skin and a non stop itchiness. That’s what it is. It burrows under his skin, it makes his fingertips tingle and his heart ache and his ribs melt and his throat close up. This is soap’s fault. Ghost needs to kill soap.

That’s not quite right.

Because something in Ghost, in Simon wants to keep him away too, that terrorises his mind whenever he sees Johnny hurt. That he should steal him away and live in domestic paradise on the other side of the galaxy, because Simon knows better than to think that he can chase his past away that easily.

But then Ghost gets hurt, and it’s not that bad, really, he’s had worse. But now Soap’s tearing apart the place, face flushed and panicked. Panicked over Ghost. It might just be the most wonderful thing he’s ever seen. So when he grabs Soap by the shoulders and orders him to calm the fuck down, his brain suddenly surges forward for things to say.

I love it when you get concerned for me.

I love it when you touch me.

I love it when you remember things about me

I love it that you let me double check your gear because I can’t lose you.

I love the stretch marks on your hips that I accidentally saw when you came out of the shower.

I love your fucked up accent.

I love the way you say “canny” it’s so dumb

I love your face

I love you,

I love you,

I love you.

And it comes to a point where Ghost has to actively hold himself back because he accidentally held soap’s face in his hands and he cherished all 0.7 seconds of it before he violently ripped his hands away and walked off without a word.

It felt like all his ribs had broken in half and punctured his lungs and heart, and he was slowly bleeding out and suffocating. Johnny makes him feel like summer. Ghost starts to look forward to tomorrow, he starts to get excited at the new promise of physical touch, at the chance to casual love. He’s warm and gooey and Johnny’s melted his skeleton down and what’s left is Simon.

It was like nothing to Soap, and it drives Ghost crazy how it happened so fast. Johnny’s cradled Simon’s corpse in his warm hands and decided that he would love again, simple as that. And if he could do it like it was as simple as breathing, then maybe Ghost could love him the same way.

[zedif-y]

“Before you yell at me,” Impulse says. “I want to at least say that I know this was a bad idea.”

On the other side of the room, Bdubs shifts in bed, sniffling as he battles a runny nose. Pearl sighs.

“You see how that actually makes it worse, right?” She replies. There’s a faint crackle on her end, her breath picked up by the phone– “Impulse, you need to leave.” 

Impulse grimaces. He feels Bdubs’ stare against his back, “I…”

“You know why you can’t stay there,” Pearl tells him. Her voice is even, but the words drag him down like weights. “Impulse–”

He bites the inside of his cheek, “I can’t.”

Pearl goes quiet for a moment. 

Impulse can almost picture her expression– jaw clenched, eyebrows furrowed in worry. A quiet sadness in her eyes as she takes him in. Not a hint of judgement– yet somehow that almost chokes him even more.

Then, “Why not?”

Impulse swallows. He shifts on his feet, focuses on the feel of the soft carpet. (It’s old, the color mostly faded. Impulse remembers installing it– a hot summer day, around two years ago. It feels like a lifetime has passed since.) “It’s just…”

(Bdubs’ voice, raspy and weak, “Can you come over?”)

“He’s sick,” Impulse whispers, eyes downcast. “Nothing too bad, I think, but it’s– he called me, and he said he needed me and I… You know that I…” 

(Impulse had just gotten home, then, exhaustion burning in his bones. But even then he takes a peek out the window, looks on as the pale grey of the afternoon seeps into night. His mouth thins into a line.)

(“Bdubs, I–”)

(“Please,” Comes the hoarse reply. “I miss you.”)

Impulse’s chest constricts. You know I can’t say no to that, he wants to say, the words burning like acid on his throat. I can’t. I want to, I need to, but I can’t.

(There’s a beat, a heavy pause. Impulse tries to remember how to breathe.)

(“…Give me a few hours.”)

Not when it’s him.

Impulse drags a hand down his face, his voice hushed as he speaks into his phone. “Pearl, I know you’re trying to help, but…” He turns to look at Bdubs. Reddened eyes stare back at him, just that little bit hazy. Impulse bites the inside of his cheek. “I need to be here. I need to stay.”

“You don’t need to do anything,” Pearl replies. “You said you wouldn't…"

I know, “…Yeah, I did," Impulse sits down next to Bdubs, the bed dipping under his weight. He places the back of his hand on Bdubs' forehead, feeling the heat seep instantly into his skin. He tsks under his breath.

Bdubs lets out a small sigh, his eyes fluttering shut. Impulse tries to ignore how his heart squeezes at that, licks his lips as he heads back out of the room. The door clicks shut behind him.

"...Impulse?" Pearl asks, "You still there?"

He breathes in, breathes out.

"Still here," He mutters. 

At his silence, Pearl speaks up. 

“Impulse,” She says, voice soft. “Are you okay?”

Impulse looks out at the living room, the windows casting light over the worn sofa. His things packed neatly in a bag. His own knick knacks strewn about the shelves. There's a lump in Impulse's throat, and it won't go away.

“I don’t know,” He tells her, the truth of it aching. “I don’t know, Pearl.”

There’s rustling on the other end, a faint hum of music in the background. Impulse doesn’t know how long it’s been playing.

“Do you want me to pick you up?” Pearl asks, and Impulse knows she means it. Knows that he could say yes, and she would be here within the hour, providing company despite her hectic schedule. Impulse knows.

(And yet.)

For a few moments, Impulse doesn’t say anything. He moves closer to the windows, feels the warmth of the sunlight on the back of his hand.

Not for the first time, his gaze drifts to his finger– a small band of lightened skin, a whisper of a ring.

"I'll leave when he's recovered," Impulse says at last. "I promise."

Even to his own ears, it sounds like a lie.

—

“Bein’ shick is the worst,” Bdubs groans. He grabs his handkerchief, blows his nose loud– “Guh, good grief.”

“Drink your water, Bdubs!” Impulse calls out from the kitchen. The bedroom door, now open, gives Bdubs a decent view of him, chopping up… Somethin’, and then adding them to a pot. Bdubs makes a noise in response, half grumble half yeah, yeah, I know. 

He mutters under his breath, “Can’t even smell the food…”

His hands are clammy as he reaches for his water bottle, drinking in greedy mouthfuls as the liquid soothes his throat a little. He sniffs, again, another groan on his lips as his head swims– like he’s swaying even if he’s just sitting down, a godawful heat just under his skin. His blanket, already shoved to the side, is kicked away even further.

Bdubs breathes out through his mouth, his throat raspy and dry even though he just–

“I hate this,” He seethes, eyes shut tight and head spinning and nose running, goodness sakes– “I…”

A wave of nausea rolls over him like the tide. Bile rushes into his throat, his muscles seizing as he rasps out, “Impulse!”

There’s some clattering from the kitchen, the click of a stove. “What?” Impulse asks, rushing into the room. He’s still wearing his apron. “What’s wrong?”

Worry shines on his face, etched into the lines of it. If Bdubs weren’t about to puke his guts out, he’d be starin’ a lot more–

“Bathroom,” Bdubs rasps out, acid burning his throat, his eyes stinging with tears–

Impulse heaves him out of bed with a grunt. Bdubs goes limp in his grasp, fighting head-swimming nausea that makes his vision all weird as Impulse rushes him to the bathroom, gently sets him on the floor–

“Hurgk!”

Bdubs’ eyes sting as he hurls, his chest heaving as he’s hunched over the rim of the toilet. A burning sourness coats his tongue, scratching against his throat. His knees protest against the cool tiles. Everything in him aches as he coughs violently, his hands shaking as he balances himself–

Big, gentle hands push his hair away from his face, soothing his trembling back. Bdubs sobs, spit dripping from his lips as everything hits him all at once, every pinprick of pain and the shivering cold and mind-numbing heat–

“I��ve got you,” He hears Impulse say, the words drifting just at the edge of his mind. “I’ve got you, Bdubs.”

Always.

Bdubs coughs, shakes like a leaf as he heaves over the bowl. His mind feels fuzzy, face damp with tears and sweat. Something desperate claws at his chest, comes bubbling out as a real sob as he says, “Yer too good to me,” He sniffles, feels the hands adjusting in his hair. “You’re too…”

His muscles seize, another surge of bile. Bdubs grips the edge of the bowl, eyes shut tight through the roiling pain, and he forgets whatever the hell it was that he was going to say.

He doesn’t notice Impulse going quiet. He doesn’t notice the faraway look in his eyes, the way his jaw clenches as he looks at Bdubs’ face.

He doesn’t notice the way Impulse looks like he agrees.

[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

[bentosandbox]

i really liked the anime imperfect as it is

doc: extended amiya: gets trolled w: kept posing like an instagram model for WHO exu: the real insane in the membrane chen:

hoshiguma: did the bow and doesnt do the female ver with hands in front i finally understood my friends that like salarayman characters on a molecular level that i cannot put into words sorry lgd officers: so useless (affectionate)(but also derogatory) texas: new canon pocky flavour i guess

[literaryvein]

L. V., idk what this is

[hayaku14]

Hot take: I don't think Shinichi would ever call Kaito "Kai." I don't he's ever called anyone he has cared about a nickname like that before and I don't think he's a nickname type of guy either. If anything, I think him calling you by your first name is the most endearment he can have for you (or "baro" LOL).

Kaito, on the other hand, would definitely call Shinichi "Shin-chan" just for the sake of annoying him LMAO but it's entirely possible that he says it so much that it sticks and Shinichi actually eventually lets him call him that like he does for his mom (and he lets kaito call him all the other terms of endearment too because he's weak like that lmao)

Also, I think Kaito doesn't need to be called Kai. Literally just Shinichi calling him Kaito alone would send butterflies in his stomach. Cause finally the Great Detective is calling me by name!!!! He knows my identity!!!! He knows me!!! Not KID, me!!! Just being called by his real name would already melt Kaito into a puddle that man is a goner.

Also also!!!! I think Shinichi calling Kaito "thief" gets Kaito misty eyed sometimes because Shinichi is Shinichi and he knows I'm a thief and yet he's still here despite it all. LIKEEEE "thief" is a lil funny silly goofy nickname until kaito reflects on the implications and he's all:

OKAY BUT AN EVEN HOTTER TAKE: Who tf cares about all that shit I just said!!!! You can make Shinichi call Kaito "Kai" if that's what you want, go fuckin crazy with it!!!!!

[lorelxlz]

a possible grian design for a space au :D

[three--rings]

Okay so I know we're in this big anti-sex cultural moment.

And I know my own personal standards on this issue are way out there. I am a sex first relationship later person. It's just how I roll. So I'm biased.

But I have to say, everyone talks like it's definitely for sure that it was a bad idea for Ed and Stede to have sex when they did.

And honestly, like, I'm not even arguing with that. It was a very understandable time for them to have sex. There should have been some more talking either before or AFTER about how they were both feeling. But it wasn't ideal perhaps.

Still I want to be clear: I don't think them having sex is the fucking problem here.

Ed is overwhelmed and unsure of where he fits right now. He's been through a lot of trauma recently (and caused a lot of course.) So it's understandable why he'd feel unprepared to add sex with Stede on top of it all.

However, they both do very much want to have sex with each other. And when two people are in love and really attracted to each other and really want to have sex, even if they have other reasons why they are holding back from it...well, eventually they're going to have sex. Sooner or later, but probably sooner.

Time in this show is very difficult to gauge, especially this season. So some time has passed between the moonlight scene and the beginning of ep 6. Ed had his leathers back, he's not wearing the bell, things have changed and progressed. It's not the next day. Probably.

We don't get to know how much time it's been or what has been said in between. Ed seems basically in the same place mentally. If not a worse one. Progress is not being made.

It's easy to criticize Stede for initiating a rather aggressive pounce on Ed in the wake of his trauma. But he's clearly not thinking. That's his issue, separate from the question of whether Ed is ready, so I'm not going to get into it. But he does pause, and he looks to Ed for permission, which Ed gives before enthusiastically and passionately joining in.

They both just went through a scary time. They both are seeking comfort in each other. It means sooner comes rather than later in the inevitable 'they're GOING to fuck' race. I know that sentence is a trashfire but let's move on.

Ed is happy in the morning. He's a little nervous, with the breakfast, but he feels good about dumping his leathers. He's come to a decision. Even after he starts to get nervous after Stede talks about their career, he's mostly fine when they go eat. Relaxed, happy about what happened.

And then all the fame stuff starts and he's fine at first. He talks to Jackie and is fine about it until Jackie is like yeah but you have a problem with your man. He talks to Izzy.

Now he's REALLY done a 180. He doesn't see his desired life and Stede's desired life matching up. Stede apparently doesn't understand Ed and where he's at if he thinks they're going to be pirates together now.

This is the problem. This is what upsets Ed. he spirals for hours. He's running scenarios and coming to negative conclusions. He's not valuable or loveable if he's not Blackbeard. Stede doesn't want him if he doesn't fit into that life. He needs to move on. He is panicked and freaking out.

Then he talks to Stede, after already making the decision to leave and go fishing. Like, let's be clear, he doesn't decide that during their fight. He's decided and signed on. He's just saying goodbye.

It's only then that he brings up the sex. He does throw blame at Stede for it a bit, which I think is mostly fair. But he also isn't accounting for Stede's state of mind at the time. They were both off tilt. But he digs into that, and to me, I think he's using the sex as an excuse.

He didn't have a problem with the sex itself. He was happy in the morning and after. Smiling, smug, cute, loved up, having heart to hearts about mermaids and letters.

It was all the life/identity stuff that crashed in that shifted him. But he doesn't know how to talk about that. He doesn't know how to explain it or be vulnerable about his worst fears and self-worth issues.

So he goes on offense and says hey, actually, this is your fault. He picks the issue he has words for, the only one they've actually talked at all about.

Stede is NOT wrong when he identifies Ed as panicking and wanting to run. Stede is recognizing the behavior from himself.

Just like it's not about Ed wanting to fish, it's not about them going too fast. It's about them not communicating about their deepest needs and desires and fears.

They can have sex or not have sex, if they're not communicating it won't work. They could continue fucking like rabbits and have long talks in between sessions and get really really far. Or do what they've been doing which is NOT having sex and also not communicating which can go on forever and they won't get closer to happy.

I feel like fandom has latched on to this one thing as The Problem, because it's all Ed SAID was a problem. But we have lots of evidence otherwise.

I mean, even the conversation...Ed says it's too fast, Stede is like...okay well we can do whatever. He doesn't get defensive even though he's hurt. But that's not good enough, because that's not actually the problem. But at that point Ed really starts running away.

And they start getting more heated, both being sloppy at expressing themselves. (Stede is unfortunately pretty freaking drunk.)

I think they are both very avoidant personalities when it comes to this kind of thing, this kind of deeply personal conflict. Their anxieties keep them from being honest. And so the sex combined with Stede's killing of a man, and newfound fame, that all became a crisis that forced them to confront these issues. I think ultimately probably for the best, instead of not addressing them.

[clownsalot]

im very normal about fuuta in general but i dont think im ever going to emotionally recover from his fire motif and what it represents for his character and how he reflects the greater theme of justice so that means i must rant about it

(more under the cut because this got longer than i expected whoopsies)

so anyway fire is pretty obviously supposed to be symbolic of his passion for justice right? that fire is all over the place in bring it on. he's wielding it to take down enemies, his signature weapon is a flaming sword. it's what he uses to lead the campaign against the people he's after, the people he's deemed in the wrong.

it's a fucking flaming sword, it's badass as hell!!!! it's what a hero of justice, a knight, would use!!!! it's cool as shit, it's his symbol of justice.

that's how he sees his justice in trial 1.

he's righteous, he wants so badly to believe he was a hero, he was doing it all for a good cause, for justice. his passion for justice was a tool he used to meet those ends, to be a hero, to wave it valiantly in the face of enemies.

the fire, however, is conspicuously absent once he's noticed the blood on his hands

interestingly, despite backdraft as a song title being much more related to his fire motif than bring it on, fire is actually surprisingly absent from the mv's visuals. fire, as in actual orange burning fire, doesn't show up much at all in backdraft except for when both fuuta and his victim begin turning to ashes, and a short bit near the end right after the last chorus when the spraycan explodes in fuuta's face. you know what the mv does show a lot of though?

smoke. and ash. the byproducts of a fire, the byproducts of fuuta's passion for justice.

bringing it back to firefighting for a moment: as many people have already pointed out, backdraft as a firefighting term refers to when a fire that has consumed all available oxygen suddenly explodes when more oxygen is made available, such as when a window or door breaks. the thing about fire hazards, though, is if the fire and the heat don't do someone in, usually it's the smoke. the smoke inhalation causes breathing difficulties and suffocation, making it even more difficult for a person to escape the fire.

in backdraft, instead of fire itself, what we're shown is these byproducts of a fire. the smoke is damaging to human health, and the ash shows that the fire has burned things up and caused destruction, in this case killing someone. all we're shown is the negative results of a fire, in sharp contrast to its badass, positive portrayal in bring it on.

hell, even fuuta himself starts turning to ashes and the spraycan explodes in his face, showing how even he is experiencing the negative results of a fire that has gotten out of his control, how even he has gotten burned by his passion for justice. or, is it es' desire for justice?

translation of fuuta's t2 vd by onigiriico

Me, too! I was like that, too! I also didn't think it'd turn out that way!

You and I are exactly the same breed! The only difference between us is the clothes we're wearing.

fuuta's justice and es' justice, it's all the same in his head now, he directly tells es that they're the same, that we're the same. it's all the same hunger for justice that ends up causing harm even if that wasn't the intention.

you know that saying that fire is a good servant but a bad master? i think that's pretty applicable to fuuta's situation. his passion for the pursuit of justice was great when it was still a tool, a sword he could wield, after all he did manage to shed light on some people's wrongs and bring them to justice. but once it exploded, when it became a backdraft that even he could no longer control, it did more damage than he intended.

it burned even him, it killed a middle schooler. and he recognizes that in backdraft. he only shows us the ways fire that becomes a hazard can go wrong.

translation of fuuta's t2 vd by onigiriico

What did I do? All I did was say that what's wrong is wrong! I was just going off at a bad person online!

I didn't think they would die! I just thought that wrong things are wrong, and that a crime is a crime! You get that, don't you? See? Aren't we the same?

it's just. fire is such a good metaphor for the message of fuuta's character and his arc. it's an amazing illustration of how dangerous it is when you feed a desire for justice too much, when you forget to put a boundary on how you handle that fire. eventually the fire spreads just like how passion for justice becomes zealotry, until more and more things fall under what you consider to be 'punishable' by your standards and goes out of control to hurt people that probably didn't deserve it. it's a warning to set proper boundaries on our own definition and desire for justice and what's 'right' so the good intentions doesn't spiral into harm. it's a reflection of our attitudes towards milgram as the audience responsible for their justice and forgiveness. it's amazing i love it i love fuuta's fire symbolism i love fuuta's character arc and i love milgram's writing so so so much