imzemo
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Latest Posts by imzemo
Its a terrifying scene. The camera angle revealing parts of a science lab straight out of hell. Kitchen knifes and scalpels lay dripping on a table.
On the dissection table- because thats all it could be- lays a small child. Small but noticable gills on the neck, the occasional fleck of scales and webbed fingers mark them as merfolk.
Viewers watch on in horror as the table is bloodied. A steady incision made in the left leg. The Justice League had been contacted but there was no indication they would make it in time to help.
A large Bang! went off in the background of the video, clearly catching the duo off guard. The man turned to his (wife?) with a weird moniter in his hands going off the charts and with an excited yelp they both took off running up the steps that were just barely in frame behind them.
A few long moments later, two teens sneak into the lab. The boy rushed over to unchain their parents 'test subject' while the girl kept watch.
Freshly released limbs had bloody wounds rubbed into the pinned down areas and quiet whispers of empathy were only just picked up by the audio. One of the viewers pointed out that the boy himself had scars in similar places.
The boy picked up the kid and the trio quickly slipped away out of camera view. Soft thuds mark their escape from the house, seemingly unaware of the Livestream their parents were apparently trying to make.
--------------------------
The story makes international news and leaves everyone on high alert. Government agencies scramble to prove they had no connection to the couple, the GIW undergos mass arrest when their names Maddie and Jack Fenton come up on their payroll. A channel is made to document any sightings of the kids.
The first one is posted after a day. It's security footage from a fast food restaruant. Four teens- the two from before plus a goth and someone named ''Tucker''- along with the comparitively tiny Mer sit in a booth. ''Tucker'' and "Sam'' argue about possible dietary restriction before seemingly ordering one of everything. There is soup, and a burger, the largest cup filled with water they could find in the back, chicken tenders and salad.
When the server goes to deliver everything, the four watch them like hawks, understandable given the previous day.
(Did any of them even know Half the world knew what went down? )
(Did any of them know how Aquaman was taking the news of one of his subjects being injured like that? )
( Did any of them realize that their choice to protect the kid was one of the main reasons war hadn't been declared yet on the human race?)
Jasmine is heard softly encouraging the tiny Mer to eat something, anything and eventually the soup is downed and apparently liked enough that she gets up to order more.
Right before they leave, while under the relative safety of a roof, they swap the bandages wrapped around most of the kids leg and arms and slowly tell them about future plans despite the fact that they probably can't understand the language.
(Jasmine points at a laptop screen filled with a view of the ocean. "We" she circles the group with her pinky "are going there to get you home." The atlantian can't speak english but the way their eyes light up and they relax further into Sams side shows they understand the basic message)
(The sight- of the child definitely scared but trusting them enough to get so close- helps calm the atlantians with access to the internet. Somewhere Aquaman finds himself able to breathe slightly easier.)
this is a sequel to this.
The hoodlums and nightlings: @skulld3mort-1fan, @satanicrutialspecialist, @terzatheunderscorerima, @autumnwulf, @jaggedheart11, @froartuck,
Danny is panicking.
Keep reading
Danny, de aged to like 4 and wondering around the alleys of Gotham after running away from his home dimension and his "responsibilities" as a superhero, "I need a parent. Like an actual parent who will care about me."
Just then, Red Robin lands on a pile of garbage bags and groans, knocked out. Danny smiles and yells up at the sky, "Thank you!"
Another bat makes it to the edge of the roof just in time to see Danny pulling Red Robin through a wall by his cape.
Later, when the bats track him down they try to take Tim back only for thier hands to go through him when they try to grab him. Danny, in all his little kid logic yells, "No! He's my dad now!" >:(
DP x DC prompt #1 pt.1
Im imagining Proto Core!Jason and Ghost King/High King!Danny met and bonded, then Jason not telling his family that he has a relationship of some sort with the whole ass High King of the Infinite Realms, and Jason calls up his fraid to help the JL and YJ with an alien invasion.
Batman: We are at a stand still. We cannot drive these aliens away on our own.
Worried looks are shared all across the Watchower meeting table.
Jason: ... I know someone.
All heads turn towards Red Hood, suspicion, and curiosity is seen in most, if not all, facial expressions.
Batman: [Eyes squinted] What do you mean you "know someone," Hood..?
Jason: I mean: My fraid can take care of this shit. [Eye roll]
Constantine: Wait ' minute, "fraid"??
Jason: Yeah, fraid, "Sad man in a fuckin trench coat."
Constantine looked baffled at the name calling, blinked twice, and promptly reached into his coat to take a swig of his flask.
Constantine: Nope. I'm not dealin' with that sober.
Batman glares at the blonde, then sighs right after.
Red Robin: Hood, what do you mean by your "fraid"?
Jason: Eh, I'll have the Magic Man explain that while I call my fiancé. Gimme a moment.
Jason walks out the doors into the hall without another word.
Nightwing: Wait - What?! "Fiancé"?!? HOOD, WAIT UP!!
Nightwing sprints after him with Red Robin in tow.
Batman silently watches as the revenant, and then the other two, walk/sprint out the door. The bat doesn't do anything except turn to stare at Constantine expectantly.
Constantine: [sigh] A'ight, bloody hell. A fraid is ghost' family. Ghosties ain't got blood relatives, so a fraid is what we refer to as "found family." What your little revenant is sayin', is that he's collected a few ghosts. And if they're gonna be able to defeat them bloody aliens, then he' ended up with some powerful mutherfucker, Batsy. All you gotta hope is that they ain't the violent type.
The JL & most of YJ: HUH???
Batman is distressed and dejected.
Danny, while experimenting with his shapeshifting (ecto changes form depending on intent and he's half alive so), got stuck in a form. Then he got caught by a sleezy freakshow/circus owner.
The form he's stuck in is a merman form. But it's not, like, a typical merman form.
He'd been trying to see if he could reshape his ecto while he was in human form, and he had! But he'd also gotten overenthusiastic in experimenting, added too many features unique to his ghost form, and now he can't shift into either form.
Human or ghost.
He's stuck.
He's stuck as a merman with his human features, his ghost-form eye color (it glows), his human form hair (tinted with glowing green-ish white), deep blue scales on his tail that fade into that seem glowing greenish white, and fully functional gills.
He also cannot use his ghost powers. He knows that they're there, but for some reason his current form will not allow their usage. Maybe...maybe he's using too much ghost energy to keep up the transformation?
Regardless, he got captured by some sleezeball and thrown into a traveling freakshow. Highly illegal, and he's slowly losing hope that he'll be able to escape, because he just. Can't. Shift. Back!
Then the sleezeball makes a stupid mistake; he puts the freakshow up in Metropolis.
Danny goes to sleep one day closer to a mental breakdown.
Danny wakes up to Superman floating in front of his tank, in the process of restraining Aquaman from quite literally murdering the sleezeball.
I see a lot of prompts and fics that operate on the premise of Danny being the world's first hero so everyone in the Justice League looks up to him. But what if he wasn't? What if, instead, he was the first villain? Not literally, he's not a bad person, he genuinely tried and did help people, he did protect Amity Park and the world. But what if the GIW won? What if his parents react poorly to a reveal? What if, instead of being hailed as the world's first hero, he's seen as the world's first villain, one who the GIW and Dr's Fenton worked together to trap in their version of a sarcophogus of forever sleep? One who they claimed was brutal and cruel and no one should ever let out because he has the power to destroy the world? What if the JL and JLD get word that someone (maybe his friends, maybe his sister, maybe a cult well meaning or otherwise) is trying to release the world's first villain and they're trying to stop them from doing it because obviously it's the world's first and possibly worst villain, he can't be set free. And what if it WASN'T like the sarcophagus of forever sleep? What if he was awake the whole time?
Please stop trigger tagging with #epilepsy tw/cw/warning/etc.
I need every single person to understand how horrible tumblr’s tagging system is
I go into the tag for epilepsy and its all flashing lights. We can’t use our own tag because people without epilepsy fill it up with improper warnings.
Use ‘flashing’ in place of ‘epilepsy’ in your tags. You aren’t warning people of epileptics, you’re warning us of flashing lights. Please please tag properly. Epileptics say this endlessly and constantly and it’s ignored. You are risking lives by doing this.
Here’s proof of what I mean:
THIS POST IS 100% OKAY TO REBLOG, I ENCOURAGE PEOPLE WITHOUT EPILEPSY TO ESPECIALLY DO SO!
BOYCOTT AIRBNB
These people are trying to take over every aspect of our lives.
i don't wanna love myself like "buy this feel good". i wanna love myself like i made a sandwich for later because i knew i'd be too busy. i wanna love myself like hang on take a breath do you actually like this. i wanna love myself like okay we're gonna set a reminder to get up and brush our teeth. i wanna love myself like - it's okay to say no, it's okay to take that nap, it's okay to go home.
i don't wanna feel sexy like tv. i don't wanna feel sexy like little black dress. i wanna feel sexy like high note during karaoke. like just got done writing 14 pages of poetry. like let me show you this scarf i've been knitting. i wanna feel sexy like hand on the back of the headrest while you parallel park. like did i tell you about that time i saved a baby bird. like don't tell her but i've been sneaking money into her purse.
i don't wanna feel pretty like expensive. like high fashion. like paid to be here. i wanna feel pretty like a bird in a puddle. i wanna feel pretty like streak of dyed hair. i wanna feel pretty like calligraphy, like new leaves, like a skinned knee bleed, like a dog running at full speed. i wanna feel pretty like lying next to you. i wanna feel pretty like the new album just dropped, i wanna feel pretty like a shower, i wanna feel pretty like a stone wall all covered in moss.
i keep saying body neutrality. that feels negative - no bad things, no good things, just body. but i mean - my body is neutral like a flower is neutral like an oil slick is neutral like a day is neutral, too. my body is neutral so a kiss can feel like lightning so a dance can feel like a hula hoop so a walk to get coffee can feel like - god, i'm so happy to just be around you.
my body is a site. not the source of the joy, just where i can find it. i don't wanna love like - finally got my body tight/forced myself through a diet/whatever trend is the current hype. i wanna love myself like - i go to this river and i find gold every time i shift around inside it. i wanna love myself like - i feel sexy because it's sexy to be alive, and laughing. i wanna love myself like - bitch, i could have died, and i didn't, and if that isn't the prettiest almost in the whole world, than i don't know what is.
ITS GREAT LAKES AWARENESS DAY!!!!!
On this excellent day, be aware that this is the largest group of freshwater lakes in the world, covering over 95,000 square miles and reaching depths of over a thousand feet. They are beautiful freshwater seas.
Also when you die in these lakes, the very cold, oxygen-poor conditions at the bottom preserves you perfectly for all eternity. You will not rot and nothing will eat you. You will exist for as long as the Great Lakes do. Many shipwrecks still have the crew on board. Be Aware.
Landlord Jason, with runaway Danny shenanigans:
I like to headcanon that Jason is afraid of dating due to his anger issues that came from the Lazarus waters, so he acts out the persona of a serious landlord who tries his best to play the part of being hard to get (his doing a shit job at it, he has read too many romantic books). And Danny who ran away from Amity Park, because he got nothing to lose, is just looking at him with hearts for eyes and flirts with him at every opportunity.
Danny: I think I just figured something out. I got to go. Jason: Aren't you forgetting something? Danny: Uuh…hesitantly kisses Jason's forehead before running out. Jason: No, pay your bill! Damn, who raised you?
Danny : Jason is playing hard to get. Danny : Little do they know, I'm a master at playing hard to get rid of.
Danny : This date is boring! Jason: This isn't a date. I said I was going to the store. Danny : Then why did you invite me? Jason: I didnt, I specifically said "don't come with me," then you said, "fuck you Jason I'll do whatever I want!
Danny : Crushes are the worst. Whenever I’m near mine, I start acting stupid. Jason: You always act stupid. Jason: Jason: Wait…
Danny : How do I tell Jason that I want them to yell at me like they're Gordon Ramsay and I'm a poor little chef who just ruined a crème brûlée? Jason, who was about to enter the entrance of the lobby: ....
Danny : I want to be with you for the rest of my life. Jason: Damn, that sounds like a marriage proposal. Danny , getting down on one knee: That's 'cause it is.
Jason: Are you trying to seduce me? Danny : Why, are you seducible?
Danny : Are we fighting or flirting? Jason: I'm pinning you against a wall with my hand around your neck- Danny : Your point?
Jason: I feel like doing something stupid. Danny : I’m stupid, do me.
Danny, trying to flirt with Jason: I think both of our families suck.
Kermit for pope
I was trying to find out if Kermit was eligible to be pope and I found a blog that says he's the perfect example of a catholic priest
DpxDc #13 pt.2
Stop the music!
[pt.1] [sketch]
CW: for live insect consumption (don't worry, they get better)
--------------------------------------------------------------
Constantine warned them that the creatures of the Infinite Realms behaved on a logic of their own.
Never trust your senses.
When the time came for them to ask for help, nobody knew what to expect.
Or, you know, what not to expect.
The summoning ritual itself was weird enough.
Powdered milk for the circle; hard candy, glass beads, and buttons as catalysts, and… real butterflies as offerings.
The chant was even weirder, a nonsensical poetry made from several languages.
When they finished chanting, reality warped inside the circle, as an incomprehensible mass was taking form.
A kid.
Sure, he looked absolutely manic, but a kid.
“What in every sensational?! It hasn’t been flesh in a long time!”
He exclaimed.
There was a beat of silence, long enough to irritate the being.
“You flesh! Earn your keep!”
The kid emoted in an exaggerated way.
His white hair reached the floor, creating a cupola around him. His toxic-green eyes shined like those of a cat, with his pupils so small, they started to doubt he could actually see anything.
His teeth were always exposed, even if he wasn’t talking, and he was wearing what looked like a hazmat suit, too big for the scrawny body.
He was floating a few inches from the ground and didn’t seem to stop moving, always rocking from side to side.
“I uh… hi?
Barry tried to start the conversation.
They needed help with a strange artifact that fell from the Infinite Realms, and apparently, he was one of a few beings that didn’t need a blood sacrifice to be called.
The being lighted up (literally) when Flesh spoke up, his smile widening even more.
“Ho, ho! Oh, where has your poor stomach been? Is it gone, or cat’s got your tongue?”
There was another beat of silence.
“What?”
The being huffed, shaking his head.
At this point, Constantine groaned and stepped forward.
“I hate this part…”
He murmured, before clearing his throat and looking at the kid.
Then, in the whiniest voice a grown man can muster, he exclaimed:
“I don’t believe it, this is rich, it’s rich!”
Oh.
Everybody was too stunned to speak, as Constantine was trying to emote just as much as the kid.
The being nodded, seemingly agreeing.
“But hasn’t this been enough already? Bring out the loot”
Constantine turned around, giving the kid the jar of live butterflies they got.
The being unscrewed the lid and started to eat them out of the jar like chips.
The heroes looked a mixture of weirded out and horrified.
On the other hand, the kid looked pleased.
“Ah, nothing better than a cup of Joe in the morning”
It was the middle of the night.
He was eating butterflies out of a jar-
Constantine took a deep breath in, then started to tap his foot on the floor, as if impatient.
“Listen here now, and sit down. Only you can make due, and due is here to be made, now more haste, go for it!”
The being huffed and put the jar down
“Being employed is miserable”
He murmured, before seemingly turning inside-out and disappearing. Every butterfly that he ate was now peacefully flying around.
Constantine sighed, before rubbing his temples.
The members of the JL were staring at him, having understood absolutely fucking nothing of what just happened.
Batman was the first to step up.
"What happened?"
"He got the message, he's getting the artifact back to it's place."
"How do you know that?"
The blond gave them a deadpan glare, too done for the day.
“Clean up this mess, we're gonna talk about this after I have a drink.”
Wait! This isn't my House DP x DC
In which Danny's habit of fiddling with all the guns and weapons left in every conceivable nook and cranny of the Fenton household lead to a very awkward moment during his first tutoring session. Meanwhile, Jason is trying not to shit bricks.
"But it's IMPOSSIBLE to know what the author was TRYING to say!!!"
Jason watched the kid sitting across from him threw up his hands in frustration and start pacing the length of his apartment. This was the first time the skittish kid had taken Jason up on his offer to tutor English. Jason just rolled his eyes when he found out Danny's essay was due tomorrow and let him in.
Jason owned all the rooms adjacent to his main safe house, so he was surprised to spot the kid stepping out of the apartment below his a few weeks ago. No matter what Jason tried, Danny Nightingale was a big mystery, but he was definitely running from something.
"The whole point of the essay isn't to figure that out."
"That's literally the assignment!!! Word for word!" Danny huffed then flopped onto the worn couch with his arms crossed.
Jason got up from the stool at the kitchen counter and joined Danny in the armchair by the coffee table. "The point of the essay isn't to figure that out. It's to show that you know how to make a claim and support it. That's it. Most teachers don't care what you argue, so long as you show that it is a possible interpretation."
"Then why didn't anybody ever just say that?!" Danny seemed to be having an epiphany while constipated. "I've been pulling my hair out because I actually read the book and wanted to do it right this time! And you're saying I could have just said 'green symbolizes golf or unicorns or something' and called it a day?"
Jason laughed. "In a way, yeah. It's an unobtainable dream so Gatsby is basically chasing something that doesn't exist. A metaphorical unicorn hunt."
"I hate everything."
Jason tried not to laugh.
"I don't care. I'm not going to write about that stupid green light. Not after all that."
"Okay. Then let's look at something else." Jason decided to just start talking about different aspects of the book. It wasn't often he actually got to talk to anybody about literature and he could see a spark of interest and consideration taking root in the boy's eyes.
"The Great Gatsby is also a rare example where the main character isn't the protagonist of the story."
Danny fidgeted in place, having trouble sitting still despite paying attention. His hands wandered over the couch cushions, playing with seams and picking at one of the older stains. Jason hadn't had the chance to clean up properly, and the kid was getting uncomfortably close to-
Jason watched in horror as the kid's hand reached between the cushions and pulled out a full magazine. Jason froze, waiting for the inevitable freak out, running through the possible excuses.
Instead, Danny checked how full it was and tapped absently at one of the rubber bullets, his brow furrowed in thought. "How can the main character not be the protagonist? Don't they mean the same thing?"
Sweat pricked on back. Had someone found out his identity? Red Hood's weakness for kids had eventually leaked. Was this a trap? A threat? Was the kid sent by someone? Jason forced his hand not to reach for the gun tucked in the hidden pocket on the side of the armchair.
"He's actually mostly a spectator or a lens through which we see the story play out."
It was Crime Alley. Someone owning a gun wasn't that crazy. As long as he didn't find any of the hidden pockets that he kept the weapons in, he could play it off.
"But wait... doesn't he actively hide Daisy and Gatsby's relationship from the husband guy? And he does other stuff."
They continue to talk and Danny's wandering hands pull out every weapon he had stashed in the couch without reacting to any of it. Various knives and magazines that were clearly for almost a dozen different types of gun were all looked over for a few moments, then placed back or set out on the coffee table in a line.
Jason cleared his throat and continued the conversation barely aware of what he was saying by the time the kid withdrew one of his spare pistols from the hidden pocket on the underside of the couch.
Danny's hands ran over the surfaces, flicking the safety and pulling out the magazine, checking the chamber while he asked another question.
The next thing Jason knew, the gun was completely disassembled. Every piece scattered across the table
Danny stareed at the ceiling in concentration while his hands are moving and dismantling the gun. Within seconds, it's completely disassembled across the coffee table.
Jason was in awe. He did that faster anyone he'd ever scene except himself and a few other gun specialists, and he did it without even looking. What life was this kid running away from to have enough skill that it looked like a goddamned fidget toy instead of a weapon.
"No. In the context of the Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald isn't the author. Nick Carraway is. Sort of like how the Lord of the Rings is an Autobiography by Frodo."
"Sorry to interrupt, but you have to tell me what oil you use. This thing is smooth as butter. Though you might have to double check your sight alignment on this one. I think it's a bit off."
Jason stared.
Danny looked at him expectantly. Then his eyes followed Jason's stare.
"Oh shit!" Danny's eyes widen in horror and exactly what was in his hand. "I'm so sorry! Habit just kind of took over. I shouldn't have messed with your gun without asking."
That was not the problem here!
The kid reassembled the gun in a blur, tucking it securely back in it's hidden alcove along with everything else he'd left out on the table.
Face tinged red, he turned back to Jason. "So Nick is the author, so he's also an 'unreliable narrator.'"
Jason doesn't know how he got through the rest of the discussion, but by the end of it, they threw together a solid outline and gathered several quotes that would work.
"Thank you so much, Mr. Jason. I couldn't have done this without you." The kid was positively glowing with pride over Jason helping him make a couple notes. "Would... would it be okay if I came back if I have trouble again?"
"Sure kid. This was actually a lot of fun. I got to relax. Nobody wants to talk to me about books anymore." And surprisingly, it really was true. He couldn't remember he'd been this calm or the pit waters had been this quiet. Maybe there was something to that 'art is therapy' junk after all.
"I can see that when you look like fridge and smell like a sewer." The kid dashed off before Jason could ruffle his hair or
"Hey-!" Jason shouted but he was already gone.
Jason pulled out the gun the kid had messed with. It was perfectly assembled and just as he said, the sights were indeed slightly off. Looks like Jason would have to call in the big guns.
Pulling out his phone, he grudgingly dialed the number. This was going to cost him. "Yo Timberly, I need your help and you can't tell Bruce."
Danny bounced down the sidewalk on his way to the library to type up his paper. Who knew having somebody actually explain things
Danny's face heated at how inconsiderate he'd been. He was amazed Mr. Jason was okay with him coming back after he'd made such a fool of himself. He'd never done anything like that before. Sam and Tuck hadn't cared if he stripped down the Fenton Bazooka while talking.
His mo- Maddie could get really possessive when he'd accidently mess with her guns. Of course he should have asked first. Wait, he was missing something.
Danny foot caught his ankle when something obvious clicked into place and almost face planted. He grabbed his hair in both his hands. "Ancients! That's not my house!"
I wrote this as a reblog for someone's concept, and Tumblr ATE IT!!! Then I absolutely could not find the original post. It's been a few weeks, and I did the best to recreate some of it, but I'm getting frustrated. This is what you get. Take it or leave it.
Found it! Inspired by this post: here!
I think anyone that studies medicine with Damian would lowkey hate his ass.
Not in a mean way, but in a petty why-aren't-you-struggling-like-me type of way. I mean, thanks to Robin and the league Damian is light years ahead of everyone on terms of experience and it would show.
Half the class is puking their guts out the first time they see a patient with an open fracture. Damian has been there, done that, seen that and worse. He's eating m&m's in the back.
They're all practicing making sutures until late. Damian is like "No, I don't need to join you. I could suture with my eyes closed" and then when someone is like "prove it, rich-boy" that mf actually blindfolds his eyes and sutures perfectly using four different techniques.
He also passes everything with flying colors! Because of course, the guy can't just be rich, good looking and famous, he has to be smart too.
And it just gets worse when he starts his actual residency.
Nothing shakes him! Thirty hour shifts? He doesn't even yawn. Extreme stress during a surgery gone awry? Damian is the one telling the other members of the surgical team to stay calm. Violent patient? They don't even get to call security, Damian has the guy pinned already.
And it would be easier to not get jealous of him if he somehow was a souless blood sucking asshole. But Damian is a good person, awkward and standoffish but always willing to help. He's there for whatever people need. He aids nurses, listens to patients, conforts victims. He sits with people for the bad news and when someone dies he gets this sad faraway look that shows he cares.
And it's just so unfair.
Phantom is known as one of the most kid-friendly heroes. The guy never swears. He always cuts himself off with a hiss of static.
What the other heroes don't know, however, is that the static is Ghostspeak, and he's actually saying far worse swears than he could ever say in English or any living language.
He just makes sure not to say anything in front of the adults, so when he does slip up and swear in Ghostspeak, it's rare and not around any magic user who could understand it.
The kid heroes and sidekicks that have had an experience with death, however, who can understand him, make it a point to never, ever tell the adults what he's saying.
Amity Parkers are Kryptonians in the same way a de-feathered chicken is a man.
Summary; Clark's pretty sure the new intern, Samantha Manson, is secretly a Kryptonian.
But this isn't about him.
This is about Sam and her new, more interesting than Danny coworker; Jimmy Olsen.
~~~~~~
It was Sam’s first day as an Intern at the Daily Planet, and she’d found someone very interesting.
"Who is...Jimmy Olsen. What is Jimmy Olsen?" Sam muttered into her recorder as she watched the man in question hang upside down from a thirteenth story window, just to take a good picture of...something. A bird or a plane or someshit.
"I hypothesize that the man is a freak," she continued, turning around and missing the bird-plane streak by in a blur of red and blue, "A level of freak I intend to meet."
~~~~~~
Jimmy had four arms now, as well as terrifying mandibles and way too many eyes.
Sam diligently took notes, making sure to translate his horrified, garbled screams as well as she could.
Unfortunately, Superman swept in and managed to nab the mad scientist and douse Jimmy in the cure at pretty much the same time.
~~~~~~
Sam was using her strength, as a human so contaminated with Ecto she was liminal, to hold Jimmy Olsen in the air by the ankle with one hand. The other hand? Was punching aliens in the face and yanking their weapons out of their hands.
Not that he was aware she was doing that, because he was so distracted with getting the perfect camera shot of the alien invaders of the week that he’d missed the one’s trying to sneak up on him.
Honestly, most of Sam’s concentration was on not squeezing her hand.
She didn’t want to break any bones, after all.
It was right as that thought passed her mind that Superman appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and scared the shit out of her, resulting in…her squeezing her hand.
Jimmy was in a cast for far longer than it took her or anyone else from Amity to recover from something as small as a broken bone.
~~~~~~
It was Tuesday, and true to form, Jimmy had been kidnapped.
Sam, as she had the past seven Tuesdays, made sure she was taken along for the ride. She’d even had to knock out the teeth of the head kidnapper to convince them that, as most people already knew, ignoring Samantha Manson was a terrible idea.
The kidnappers had let her in the van, refusing to meet her eyes. When she insisted they tie up her wrists, a few of them started crying, so she didn’t push it.
The entire drive to the typical decrepit warehouse, the kidnappers kept looking back at her and flinching.
Wussies.
But she could put up with them being babies; as long as she got to study the enigma that was Jimmy, it was fine.
What wasn’t fine was the fact that when Superman swept in to save Jimmy Olsen again, the kidnappers pointed at Sam and said she’d kidnapped them.
“I only knocked out a few teeth, so what? They’ll grow back, it’s not a big-!”
“Oh, I get it now. No. No, Miss Manson, human adult teeth don’t grow back.” Superman said gently, going from aggressively confused to pitying.
Sam broke her hand on his jaw in response; she hated people pitying her. Also, she was more than a little embarrassed that she’d forgotten non-liminal people were slightly limited in the amount of teeth they could have.
Her hand healed in the normal amount of time for a person from Amity Park; two whole days.
~~~~~~
Jimmy was looking at her over their desks, trying to be sly about it.
Sam was pretending not to notice, slowly growing more and more annoyed.
“...Is there a problem?” She finally asked, slowly looking up to meet Jimmy’s eyes.
“How did you not shatter your hand when you punched Superman? Why do you think ‘human’ teeth grow back?” Jimmy responded, almost like those questions had been waiting on the tip of his tongue for who knew how long.
“I didn’t shatter my hand because I wasn’t actually trying to hurt him, and the other one…I made a mistake.”
Jimmy hesitated, pursing his lips and seeming to take a moment to think.
“So…if you tried to punch Superman, and you meant to hurt him, do you think you actually could?”
Sam leaned back in her chair, giving the question some thought.
Superman was notorious for being weak to magic, and liminality was just another form of death magic. Granted, it was a form of death magic so strong it mutated the living, but magic was magic.
“First off, I don’t fight for a living,” Sam started, shrugging; her days as one of Team Phantom were long past. “I used to, but I don’t anymore, so I’m not as…fighty, I guess, as Superman. But I could probably give him a black eye, if he was nice enough to let the punch land after letting me wind up.”
“Oh.” Jimmy said, voice slightly higher than normal. “Well alright then.”
“Yup.”
“So where are you from again?”
“Classified.”
~~~~~~
Jimmy, true to Jimmy form, had a new…situation.
It was Friday, and apparently he was being possessed by a minor god.
A minor god that was not cooperating.
“It’s a simple series of questions, and I realy don’t know why you’re fighting me on this.” Sam groaned, valiantly resisting the urge to throw her notepad at possessed Jimmy’s head.
“Please. I just want to go back to my realm, I won’t bother people in this one anymore, I just-”
“What are you the god of? What is your name? What was the purpose of possessing Jimmy Olsen? Why did you target Jimmy Olsen?” Sam reiterated, as she had been for the past seven hours. “Is Jimmy Olsen a beacon of some sort? Is there a curse on JImmy Olsen?”
Sam paused, a new thought occurring to her with such suddenness she gasped.
“Wait, is…is this an attempt to woo Jimmy Olsen?!”
“Please. Please just let me go!”
“Just answer the questions or I start pulling fingernails!”
“If you torture me in this form, the boy will also suffer!”
“First off, he’s a grownass man. Second, he’s a freak so he’ll be fine. Probably. Fingernails grow back anyways, it’s barely a pinch for humans, it doesn't hurt at all.”
“Miss Manson, please don’t refer to Mister Olsen as a freak. Also, you’re getting confused about human limitations again.” Superman added politely, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“No, I’m not! I googled it! Human fingernails grow back!” Sam spat, shrugging out from under the Man of Steel’s grip.
“Ma’am, your misjudging human limitations concerning pain.” Superman explained, strained but patient.
Sam paused.
Sam took a moment to remember two days ago, when Perry bumped his foot into one of the desks and spent a whole hour cursing.
All that just for a broken pinky toe.
“...Fine. You…might have a point.”
~~~~~~
The GIW sat across from Sam in a meeting room at the Daily Planet.
Apparently, dodging her court-mandated meeting with them by not going to her apartment just meant they’d turn up at her place of work.
Charming.
“And you’ve intruded on my basic rights because…?” Sam started the meeting, unimpressed.
“We have been trying to reach you for mandatory debrief for the past three months, Miss Manson. You know why.” Agent Tweedledee said, deadpan.
“Ugh. No, I haven’t told anyone where I’m from. No, I haven’t used my powers in front of anyone. No, I haven’t broken any of your stupid, nonsensical rules.” Sam droned, tallying each point with a finger.
“Interesting. Our sources say they caught you…holding a grown man upside down with one hand.” Agent Tweedledee countered, also looking as bored as Sam felt.
Sam said nothing, continuing to stare at the agents.
“After which you crushed his ankle,” Agent Tweedledum added, pushing a folder with Jimmy Olsen’s X-Rays towards her.
“I don’t think you having these X-Rays is HIPAA compliant,” Sam said, pushing them back.
“I don’t think you understand how big of a security risk having you, any of you, blending in with normal humans is,” Agent Tweedledum said, pushing them right back at her. “And if this is how you’re going to try to ‘blend in’, then maybe we need to pull this initiative back. What’s next, casually flying to reach something on a tall shelf?”
“Indeed,” Agent Tweedledee said, leaning forward to get in Sam’s face. “Perhaps it would be better if the lockdown was re-initiated. An entire town of people like you…it’s too dangerous to just let you wander-”
“Excuse me!” Clark Kent said, popping his head into the meeting room. Sam took a brief moment to clock that his eyes were glowing a little reddish, but otherwise he seemed normal.
Stressed, but normal.
“You are intruding-”
“I was just wondering if you had a warrant?” Kent cut in, blinking his eyes and readjusting his glasses. When he was done, the red had faded.
The agents paused, looking at each other.
“We don’t need one.” Agent Tweedledee said, deftly sweeping the folder full of X-Rays closed.
“Actually, you do,” an entirely new voice joined the fray, and some man who reeked of money walked in. He was wearing a stupidly expensive suit, and looked incredibly windswept for some reason.
Sam hated him on principle.
The Agents also seemed to hate him on principle, if how they started packing up was any indication.
“Hello, my name is Bruce Wayne, and I own the Daily Planet,” Bruce Wayne said, all fake smiles and fake cheer. “That makes this private property.”
“We have a government ordinance-”
“My private property,” Bruce Wayne interrupted, stopped a mere few inches away from the now standing Agent Tweedledee. “You don’t have a warrant. Get out.”
Sam stayed seated, eyeing the proceedings.
Contrary to what she expected though, instead of pulling out guns and threatening people, the Agents just walked around Bruce Wayne and started for the door.
“If Miss Manson goes missing?” She heard Clark Kent mutter to them as they passed, “We will post her name everywhere we can, as well as pictures of your faces.”
“What pictures?” Agent Tweedledum asked, right before a camera flash blinded the man.
“These pictures. Leave Miss Manson alone!” Jimmy spat, darting out of reach.
Past him, the entire office was full of silent reporters, standing and watching the agents.
“If they ever contact you again, or violate your rights again, call me,” Bruce Wayne muttered, handing her a card.
~~~~~~
Jimmy had become telekinetic. Somehow.
They’d been interviewing some scientist new to Metropolis, Sam had turned her back on him for all of four minutes, and when she turned around he was two feet off the ground, surrounded by random objects.
Honestly she hadn’t even been aware there’d been anything that could mess with humans in the lab, so she had no idea what he’d touched.
The scientist was rambling about how his invention worked, and that all he would need to do was initiate Jimmy’s ‘inner power’ to create a bomb so destructive even Superman couldn’t stop it.
Which proved her initial suspicions that he was an evil scientist, and surprised her not at all.
Sam calmly reached out and grabbed the scientist by the throat, cutting off his air supply.
“Shhh. Shut up. No more words from you. Jimmy, I have some questions, please cooperate.”
Superman didn’t even take four minutes to show up for that one.
Apparently, Superman gave Jimmy a button for when Sam ‘forgot how human limitations worked’.
She was confused, as she hadn’t even touched Jimmy, but then Superman had gently pried her fingers off of the mad scientist's neck. Who was unconscious.
Oh.
Right.
Humans, ones that weren’t tainted with Ecto, couldn’t go that long without oxygen.
~~~~~~
“It was self defense, I swear!” Sam shouted into the phone, running through the streets.
“What was self defense?!” Bruce Wayne shouted back, noises from his side of the call indicating he was scrambling for something.
“They had cuffs and a gun! I grabbed a thing and stabbed one of them with it and probably broke the other one!” Sam took a turn, dodging into an alleyway to buy more time as she outran the GIW unit trying to chase her down.
“Broke the other one’s what?!”
“I don’t know! It made a crunching sound and he started throwing up!”
“Miss Manson, there’s no way I can get there on time. Can you shout for Superman?”
“I tried, he isn’t here or someth-” Sam was cut off as a hand shot out from one of the doorways and yanked her inside.
Or, they tried to.
Sam snarled, turning and raising her fist…only to be met with the face of Jimmy Olsen.
“In here! Quickly!” He whispered, tugging at her arm again.
Sam jumped to follow, the door shutting behind her with a soundless click.
Four minutes later, a stampede of footsteps went past, not even slowing down to consider the door.
Panting, she took a moment to look around.
It was…the weirdest basement she’d ever seen. There were broken cameras hanging from the ceiling, rows of film cartridges lining metal shelves, and a glowing lock on the door she’d just been dragged through.
Most concerning was the Ghostspeak written on the glowing lock. Sure, it was in a weird dialect, but she’d recognize it anywhere.
“...Jimmy, tell me honestly. Are you in a cult?” Sam asked, still catching her breath.
“No? This is just one of my safespots. Superman helped me outfit it, because I…uh…”
“Get kidnapped or targeted at least three times a month. Understandable.” Sam finally noticed the shouting coming from her phone and put it up to her ear. “I’m fine; Jimmy has a safehouse or something, and apparently they can’t track me while I’m in it.”
“My lawyers are already on their way to the Daily Planet. Stay where you are, we’ll sort this out.”
~~~~~~
Bruce Wayne’s lawyers were, evidently, terrifyingly competent.
Sam Manson and all Amity Parkers who were allowed to leave for the experimental integration process no longer had to debrief.
They got social workers. They had rights. They were put into contact with the Office for Extraterrestrial Immigration.
The GIW backed off.
From what Tucker told her, still tucked away in Amity, the choices the GIW had were to either concede to those stipulations, or reveal the existence of Amity and its people.
Granted, Tucker had already spread the news that Amity Parkers were guaranteed rights outside of Amity, and that the GIW couldn't legally do anything about it. There were already people planning to escape.
Tucker, in fact, wanted to know if Sam could use a couple of roommates.
~~~~~~
“This is a ‘fork’; it is a utensil used for foods that are not liquid.” Clark Kent said seriously, half leaned over his desk and slowly showing off a plastic fork.
Sam stared at the fork, unimpressed.
“And this? This is an ‘elbow’. On humans, they’re only supposed to bend like this,” the man said, using his own elbow as an example. “They don’t bend any other way. Please. Please remember that.”
Sam raised an eyebrow.
“‘Eyes’ are very important to humans, and they do not grow back or heal very well when impaled.”
Sam was officially bored.
“Now, ‘forks’ are not supposed to go into ‘eyes’,” Clark advised, holding the fork exaggeratedly far away from his face.
Lois, walking by, rolled her eyes.
“Gods forbid women do anything,” she muttered.
~~~~~~
“<<Woah. And you’re sure he’s not one of us?>>” Tucker asked, flipping through Sam’s ‘Jimmy Notepad’. They were taking a break from moving in, and Sam was excited to show them her Jimmy Notes.
“<<Completely.>>”
“<<Nah, he’s gotta at least be like Wes,>>” Danny disagreed, reaching out to go back a few pages and fully placing his weight against Tucker.
“<<Nope, his bones heal super slow and he can’t even regrow any teeth. Superman said so.>>”
“<<Bullshit! Look here, he clearly shapeshifted! Normal humans can’t do that!>>” Tucker said, jabbing his finger into her notebook with enough force that he almost poked a hole in it.
“<<Hey! Don’t ruin my stuff!>>”
“<<Guys c’mon, the buildings here are super delicate, we shouldn’t fight!>>”
“<<Foods here!>>” Clark Kent interrupted, sticking his head in the living room.
Sam, Danny, and Tucker all turned as one to head for the kitchen.
“<<...Wait, he wasn’t speaking English.>>” Danny muttered, pausing.
“<<I mean, neither were we?>>” Tucker asked, shrugging.
“<<Jimmy! Did you pick up my eggplant sandwich?>>” Sam shouted, shoving past her boys and into the kitchen.
Jimmy froze like a deer in headlights.
“Uh. I don’t know what you just…?”
“She’s asking if you remembered to pick up her eggplant sandwich,” Clark’s son, Jon, said as he dug through one of the bags.
“Oh! Yeah, of course.”
Sam decided that the Kents being able to speak Ghostspeak wasn’t really any of her business.
After all, Jimmy Olsen was far more interesting to study than them.
~~~~~~
“It’s Tuesday.” Sam grumbled, her foot tapping on the ground.
“Yes, it is.” Jimmy agreed, not seeming to pay attention.
“Where are they?” Sam asked, looking for the kidnappers that were supposed to show up.
“The numbers of attempted kidnappings have gone down because any group that would try is…well, they’re terrified of you.” Jimmy said, deliberately looking anywhere but at Sam.
Sam nodded, taking out her Jimmy Notepad.
His odd powers of luck seemed to be easily circumvented by just a few threats to outside sources. Interesting. So if she left, would his weird luck powers kick in again?
“I’m gonna leave for a few hours.” Sam said, standing up.
“It’s crunch time, Perry would kill you, and also that won’t work.” Jimmy droned, starting to sound bored.
“...Hey Jimmy, if I give you twenty bucks, would you go take pictures of a weird cult I heard about?”
“Miss Manson, no!” Clark Kent shouted from the other side of the newsroom. “I don’t know what you’re trying to convince Jimmy to do, but stop!”
~~~~~~
“I wanna fight Superman,” Danny said, staring up at the man in question as he fought off yet another super-powered bad guy.
“Please don’t do that while you’re holding onto me,” Jimmy asked politely, still taking pictures of the fight as Danny held him off the edge of a building.
“I’m Jimmy’s coworker,” Sam hissed, glaring at Danny. She was the one who helped Jimmy get into weird and concerning places for good photos, not Danny!
Danny smiled smugly at her, not putting the wayward photographer down at all.
“Yeah, but you broke both your arms blocking a punch, so nyeh.”
“They aren’t even compound fractures! The bones are still in place, they’ll heal in a couple of hours!”
“It hasn’t been a couple of hours though?” Tucker asked, briefly looking up from his phone.
Sam kicked him.
He kicked her back.
Neither noticed when Jimmy’s photos went from taking pictures of Superman’s fight to taking photos of their play fight.
~~~~~~
“Sam. Hey. Sam.”
Sam groaned and tilted her head back.
“What?”
“I don’t know what you are but…you can just break out of here, right?” Jimmy whispered, keeping himself between her and Lois, and the Big Bad Evil Guys of the month.
“I’m human, though?”
“I doubt that, though?”
“You’re so rude.”
“I’m so sorry that my concern for you is making me more to the point.”
Sam tried to make a comeback, but the low, pulsing green light of those stupid rocks seemed to magnify her headache. Those rocks sounded like millions of people screaming, and the emotional drain connected to them was really messing with her.
It took all of her concentration not to throw up, let alone get into a pseudo-argument with Jimmy.
“Whatever. What is that glowing green shit they have?”
“...It’s…it’s kryptonite. Uh…Sam? Hey, quick question, but are you…?”
“Not now Jimmy, I have a migraine bad enough to warrant murder.”
“I think we’re gonna have to figure this one out without Sam, Jimmy,” Lois muttered, already halfway out of her restraints.
“But she’s gonna be okay, right?” Jimmy whispered, tense against Sam’s back.
“She’ll be fine the faster we can get the Kryptonite away. Now, Jimmy, move!”
~~~~~~
“How long was she exposed?” A voice asked, adding to Sam’s headache.
“An hour? Maybe two?” Jimmy’s voice said, winded.
“Her color already looks better, Kal. I think she just needs to sleep it off.” Lois voice added, accompanied by someone brushing her hair out of her face.
“We need to keep an eye on-”
Sam interrupted Superman by throwing up on him.
He’d spoken long enough, anyways. It was time for blessed silence.
~~~~~~
Sam woke up in her own bed, with a very excited Danny barely able to contain himself next to her.
Apparently, Superman had shown up to drop her off, and Danny had misunderstood the situation.
Danny had actually gotten to fight Superman.
And even though Danny tried to downplay certain crucial parts of it, Tucker filled in what he was cutting out; Danny had gotten his ass handed to him.
Not before he’d broken the Man of Steel’s nose, though.
Which the halfa was very proud of.
“Kinda gross that he was covered in throw-up, though,” Danny conceded after a few hours, nose wrinkled. “Oh yeah; your Jimmy is in the living room, asleep.”
“On the couch, right?” Sam asked, still annoyed by remnants of her headache.
“...I mean. I was using the couch, so…” Tucker muttered, defensive.
“You didn’t make the squishy, normal human with normal human bones and normal human joints sleep on the floor, right?”
Danny coughed slightly, standing up.
“I’ll go put him on the couch.”
“Daniel James Fenton you better be careful, he’s delicate!”
~~~~~~
Sam was forced to take that back when she went over the security footage Tucker had gathered.
Jimmy Olsen had carried her through an enemy compound on his back, gotten into multiple fights at a clear disadvantage, and even made various pit stops to check Sam’s pulse and breathing.
With a deep sigh, she pulled out her Jimmy Notepad again.
“Why does he always disprove my theories and then add just as many new ones?”
~~~~~~
Jimmy was speaking the most mangled form of ghostspeak Sam had ever heard in her life.
“...You want to lick all the blue pebbles?” Sam translated for him into English.
Jimmy groaned, burying his face in his hands.
“Nevermind. I’m just…really bad at learning new languages.” He sighed, shoulders slumped in defeat. “Superman really tried to teach me but…”
“What were you trying to say?”
“...’What kind of coffee do you want?’.”
"<<What kind of coffee do you want?>> is how you're supposed to pronounce that."
Jimmy tried to repeat it. Tried.
What came out was…well.
Sam felt her jaw drop along with the papers she was holding, rage building at the insult that just left Jimmy’s mouth.
Across the room, Clark Kent broke into a coughing fit so bad he was almost gagging.
“I messed it up again, didn’t I?”
“I think you should go get coffee. Away from me. For about an hour or two.”
“What did I say?!”
Danny's rogues have been spreading a little misinformation.
In their defense, it was really funny.
They've been spreading the word via Ouija boards, seances, and any other attempt to speak with the dead that Phantom is the High King of Ghosts.
Except that position doesn't really exist.
Sure, they called Pariah Dark the King of Ghosts, but that was at his own request.
The Infinite Realms are vast, with many different cultures and lands, and there are a lot of Kings. It's not a special title, honestly, it's just the title used to delegate who, in a culture, has to put up with talking to the Observants.
So they decided to get the little shit back for stopping them from playing in the Living world. They're just tryna have fun!
And destroy stuff.
But destroying stuff is fun!
As is telling a shit ton of flesh puppet idiots that Phantom, that scrawny kid, is the "High King" of the Realms.
This resulted in him constantly getting summoned to cult summonings, running him ragged and giving them, his rogues, more time to play.
But uh.
Ember is starting to think they may have fucked up.
Because babypop just broke down into a sobbing, heaving panic attack at the sight of her.
She manages to get out of him that he hasn't slept in three days.
And like.
He's half living?
He's supposed to sleep more than that?
Yeah they fucked up.
Ugh.
She's gonna have to go talk to them, isn't she?
So that's how a meeting between Justice League and Justice League Dark gets interrupted by the ghost of a rock star, with a living teenager having one of the worst panic attacks any of them have seen in awhile cradled in her arms, asking Justice League Dark to invent an amulet that prevents Summonings.
John Constantine knows full and damn well that Phantom isn't a thousands year old ghost.
He knows because, in the middle of a fight against a deranged warlock, Phantom let out a small, warbling chirp in response to getting hit.
He'd quickly covered it up, but Constantine knows that that chirp is.
It's the ghost equivalent of a baby cry.
With as uncertain and lost as that one was, it was a ghost newborn cry.
Phantom isn't even ten years old as a ghost. Constantine would ventures to say that he isn't even five.
Worse, no other ghost responded to the chirp.
Phantom is, in ghost terms, an orphan.
Which is what has led to Constantine creating a portal to the Infinite Realms, so he can walk into the Realms Child Ghost Education Resource Center and make sure Phantom gets a good ghostly guardian.
The kid's been through enough, and John's gonna make sure he gets someone good.
I LOVE COMPLEX DATED ADVERBS. Wherein. Heretofore. Thereon. Hereunto. Whereof. Hitherward. Hereinafter. How can you look at these words and not lose your mind. They're insane. I think I'm in love.
Danny decided he needed a vacation. He had recently gotten shapeshifting powers in his ghost form, because ectoplasm could be molded and stretched. The only thing that needed to stay the same was his core. He decided to become a puppy, and live out a few years with a good family. Unfortunately, he got involved in a dog fighting ring, and to keep his cover, had to go along with it. But that didn’t stop him from sending messages to the local bats. He’s rescued along with all of the other pups, and Batman had taken a liking to him. He’s named Ace and brought home with Batman. Bruce quickly found out that Ace (Danny) was scarily good at reading people, and after Ace had broken out of a locked cage and saved Batman more than once, that he now had a sidekick that was his dog. Danny was having his best time being a crime fighting dog.
Good morning! I’m salty.
I think we, as a general community, need to start taking this little moment more seriously.
This, right here? This is asking for consent. It’s a legal necessity, yes, but it is also you, the reader, actively consenting to see adult content; and in doing so, saying that you are of an age to see it, and that you’re emotionally capable of handling it.
You find the content you find behind this warning disgusting, horrifying, upsetting, triggering? You consented. You said you could handle it, and you were able to back out at any time. You take responsibility for yourself when you click through this, and so long as the creator used warnings and tags correctly, you bear full responsibility for its impact on you.
“Children are going to lie about their age” is probably true, but that’s the problem of them and the people who are responsible for them, not the people that they lie to.
If you’re not prepared to see adult content, created by and for adults, don’t fucking click through this. And if you do, for all that’s holy, don’t blame anyone else for it.
HEY GUYS!!
GUYS!!!
FRANCE HAS REACHED THE REQUIRED NUMBER OF SIGNATURES ON THE CITIZEN'S INITIATIVE AGAINST CONVERSION THERAPY IN THE EU!!
ONE COUNTRY DOWN, SIX TO GO!!
We also need still quite a few signatures in order to reach the one million required.
As to date, the six other countries with the most signatures are:
Spain - 38.72%
Finland - 30.31%
Ireland - 24.86%
Netherlands - 24.15%
Germany - 23.54%
Belgium - 23.09%
So yeah, still a long way to go, but we ARE slowly getting closer. Don't stop now! Don't let this stay within the community, either, if you have any friends or family who are open to queer rights, get them to sign, too!
Humans are Space Orcs “Action Without Order.”
Here is a story to answer a couple of plot questions and requests you guys have been giving me. I hope you like it :). If you have any questions , or ideas feel free to ask!
This wasn’t good, this wasn’t good at all. Captain Vir Stood facing them, as the two Military MPs pulled his hands behind his back locking the energy cuffs around his wrists. Krill stepped in to stop Sunny as she took a step forward eyes wide with confusion and worry.
From where he stood flanked by two massive MPs, the Captain lifted his head, “It’ll be alright, Sunny, Krill, this is just a mistake….. It will be alright.” Despite the reassuring smile on his face, his single eye was wide with worry, the usually blushed human skin of his face had turned white. Though he did not struggle against the arms that held him, he did struggle against something more internal.
“What are the charges?” Sunny demanded. Looking up, the two MPs stared at her in immense distrust and readiness, “I said, what are the charges?” She demanded her looming height casting a shadow. “Don’t you humans have laws for this sort of thing!”
“Sunny, calm down, let them speak.” He turned to look at the MPs who had gone from wary to calm and collected.
“Adam Vir, Captain in the USPC Space Corpse, you are hereby charged with the unlawful divulgence of state secrets, the harboring of non-military personnel aboard a military ship, action without order, and the harboring of an enemy agent. Your court martial trial will be held in one month’s time to refute this counts before UN representatives and Military council. Your rights, if you do not know them will be read to you at your request.”
“I know my rights”, Vir whispered before looking to Sunny and Krill, “Contact the crew, tell them what’s going on. I’m going to need them, and don’t worry about me, I’ll be just fine. Keep your heads, and don’t get into any trouble. Follow the signs back to the LA Interplanetary terminal and show them your passes that will get you back to the moon. You can call the rest of the crew from there. Please stay safe.” They were dragging him off now pulling him in increments to the armored vehicle parked off to the side hovering with its glowing blue power source underneath.
Sunny stepped forward again, and Krill stopped her again, “No Sunny, You’ll only make it worse.”
Captain Vir was pushed into the back of the truck sitting down with his hands cuffed behind his back. He looked up from where he was sitting, the smile had dropped from his face.
***
Keep reading
Earth is Space Australia “Storm of Ice.”
“Are you going to bother telling me where we are going?” Krill wondered examining the camera feed from the hull of the ship and out into the vast darkness of space.
Compared to what he was used to, this part of space was relatively empty, no nebulae, no ice fields, and only the distant arm of a spiral galaxy to add light to their movement.
The captain waved a dismissive hand, “Oh, nowhere important.” Krill panned the camera around to face forward watching as the bright yellow of a terribly average star winked at them from the darkness. As fast as they were going, the star ahead slowly began to expand.
“Initiating breaking sequence, Captain.” One of the crewmen announced.
Krill panned the camera a little further to their right and watched in mild awe as the gas giant grew large in his vision dwarfing its moons a thousand times over. Bands of wind spun upon its surface varying from different shades of red and cream. They entered the pull of the gas giant at just the proper angle to cut across its field and around slowing all the while form the resistance of its gravity before continuing off into space and towards that average main sequence star expanding in the camera’s lens. Expanding much slower now that they had decreased their speed.
A couple of ships detached from the hull as they passed the next planet over.
Krill panned the camera over again in time to see the dark side of a planet winking at him with a thousand distant lights.
“Where are we, Captain?”
“Oh, that, just a midsized human colony.”
The ship was forced to turn following in a circular arc around the sun as they raced towards the next planet, a distant speck in the vastness of space barely visible against the light of the sun.
The captain took place at the helm and manually began slowing the ship even further. He wouldn’t have risked doing the same thing as fast as they had been going earlier, but now he was able to bring the ship to a slow drift as they approached the planet. Despite the captain’s wishes, Krill moved over to the navigation console and seated himself bringing up the current statistics on the system.
“Main sequence star eight planets.”
Keep reading
Humans are Space Orcs “Queen of the Journey”
Stuck on a bus traveling home for the holidays, so I decided to do some writing. I’ve had this idea since the beginning, but one of you readers recently reminded me of this idea again, so thank you and enjoy :)
There is something indomitable about the human spirit. It’s something no one, not even the humans, will ever truly understand. There are two ways of doing things in the rest of the galaxy. You can be isolated, and individual that understands only the genetic knowledge of his species. You may interact with others, you may have family units, but you will never understand those around you on a personal level. Or you can be connected, this comes in many forms, a hive mind or a collective well of knowledge the entire species pulls from. They understand each other quite fully. No one is ever alone.
But then there are humans, I won’t start by saying that humans are special or unusual because I think that has been said before. What I want you to understand is that humans are isolated in their knowledge of themselves. There is not a specie wide well of knowledge from which they can pull their behavior and understanding. There is not a template by which they live their lives, yet, somehow they can experience a welling of empathy to understand others around them. They seem to know the struggles of their fellows without the hive mind to connect them.
Not only this, but no matter where the human comes from, there is always an understood knowledge of thing humans can connect with. They speak of the same anthems, stories, photographs, and memories like they all have a personal connection. Though the humans were not born with a hive mind to connect them, that did not stop them.
They made one.
They share their knowledge by casting it out into the ether, to an unknown server of vast knowledge to access at their leisure no matter their location across the galaxy,
I know it sounds farfetched, but because of this man-made hive mind, the humans understand each other’s experiences in a way that any other species like them will never understand their fellows. A human from earth and a human from Mars may still understand each other and connect over the same things.
They have been doing this for thousands of years.
***
“Keep moving, human!” Captain Vir stumbled a bit against the weight of the slap delivered to the back of his head. Krill could hear the sound of his bionic leg desperately trying to react to the imbalance and keep the man upright.
Keep reading