DpxDc #13 Pt.2

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

Seeing ghosts in Gotham

He’s walking alone. Despite how dark it is, he’s not particularly nervous, not like the couple of people hovering in an alley.

His shift at Batburger went a little long, not that he’s complaining, he needed the money.

Everything is fine. Splendid. Fantastic. A little quiet, enough to pretend it’s a nice stroll home like it was back in Amity. Of course that all kind of goes up in flames when a dark figure drops into a crouch right in front of him. About two arm lengths away is a guy who straightens to a little taller than Danny himself. From the flickering street light across the street he can spot red, crisscross yellow, and a dark cape.

Red Robin.

Danny shakes his head and turns around.

“Nope.”

A smaller body is already standing behind him, blocking his path. The little guy with a serious face folds his arms across his chest as if challenging Danny to try to get by him.

He’s had enough tussles with Danielle to know better than to test the kid.

Danny rubs at his eyes with a hand, purposefully keeping the other limp at his side. He turns back around.

“Okay. Fine. What? What do you want?”

“You sent in a folder of information to solve the Boothe case,” Red Robin states confidently like there wasn’t any doubt it was Danny who sent it in.

He frowns. It was sent in anonymously. As in they shouldn’t be able to know it was him. Then again they are detectives in their own right even if they dress weird.

“See? This is why no one helps out the police if they’re gonna get grilled for it later on,” he complains sourly.

“That case is connected to another string of crimes we’ve been investigating. I need to know where you got your information.”

Danny glares at him for a second, actually thinking about telling him, then he remembers how quickly these guys throw people into Arkham.

“Do you not get what anonymous means?”

“What is your source?” He asks, completely ignoring Danny’s concerns.

“What are gonna do? Dangle me over the side of a building to get me to talk like you do with the criminals you guys pick up? Go ahead. See where that gets you,” he shrugs indifferently.

“You’re a runaway.”

Danny’s eyes widen in surprise before narrowing into a warning as he turns to look at the pipsqueak that spoke.

“From your poorly made fake ID and the fact you don’t look close to eighteen, you must be a runaway minor. We could bring you in to the proper authorities if you prove to be… uncooperative.”

Danny sneers in annoyance.

“Seriously?” He turns back to Red Robin. Clearly the older of the two and the one leading this investigation. “This is what I get for trying to help? Blackmail?”

“Robin can be a bit… abrasive. I, on the other hand, can appreciate a different approach.”

Suddenly there’s a couple pieces of paper money in between his fingers. Danny couldn’t see how much it was from this far away, but it didn’t really change how he felt about the whole situation.

“Now bribery? Wow, you guys really got the whole good cop, bad cop thing down, don’t cha?”

“Then what do you want?”

“For you to stop wasting your time,” Danny answers with a snap.

Red Robin pauses.

“Our time,” he repeats calmly.

“Yea. Your time. This is a dead end and you should move on.”

“And why are you a dead end?” Presses Robin.

“Because,” Danny emphasizes with a look over his shoulder, “the guy you’re really looking for, my source as you put it, is dead, okay? So you can’t go ask him questions. I sent in everything that was relevant. Find another lead.”

Red Robin’s expression remains blank as he mentally calculates his next move. Danny hopes he takes his advice and let him go home.

“His name?”

Danny folds his arms over his chest, a pathetic attempt to protect himself. He chews on his lip a minute. To tell him or not to tell him. It’s not really ratting the guy out since he’s, you know, dead. Although there is a large chance Danny’s missing something and it’s all going to lead back to him somehow.

“I didn’t kill him.”

“I never said you did,” the vigilante replies calmly, almost nonchalant.

Danny shifts his weight with nerves. He really wasn’t getting out of this without giving them something, huh?

“Greg,” he grinds out like it’s painful.

Silence for a few moments, then-

“As in Gregory Boothe?”

The victim of this whole conversation? Yes.

Danny’s silence is answer enough and the diverted gaze just solidified their suspicions.

“Gregory Boothe’s body turned up a month ago. Presumably he’d been dead for several weeks before that.”

Red lets that damning information hang in the air like Danny didn’t already know.

“So when did he talk to you? Last week?”

Danny jerks at the off handed joke, actually taking a step back and hitching his shoulders up to his ears. He grimaces at his knee jerk response, but can’t take it back. A glance toward the vigilante shows a calculating stunned expression from what he can see ignoring the mask. He looks away again finding a discarded soda can very interesting.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Demands Robin behind him.

Danny tried to resist the urge to curl even more into himself, but knows he failed without even having to look.

“You’re a medium,” Red Robin states. It’s not even a question.

Danny flinches and shoots the guy a scared glare.

“I am not one of those scam artists,” he hisses firmly.

“No,” Red agrees, “you’re not. You didn’t ask for money or attention.”

Danny stares like it’s his first time seeing him. The lack of aggression or accusations was new and a little disarming. He was genuinely confused as to why the guy wasn’t immediately going to denial or throwing him in Arkham.

“Hell of a city to hide in when you can see ghosts,” Red Robin says in a light tone like he was teasing him. The small tug to his lips just proves it.

Danny’s shoulders practically sag at the playful demeanor. A hand reaches up to rub the back of his neck self-consciously.

“Yea, well… no one was gonna look for me here.”

Which was only half the reason he chose Gotham, but it was still truthful.

“So… Greg?”

“Isn’t here right now.” Danny pauses and snorts at himself. “Please leave a message.”

The vigilante does have a sense of humor because he smirks in response to the joke.

“Is there another way to… make contact? Summoning maybe?”

Danny raises an eyebrow incredulously.

“Summoning is rude,” he says like it’s common sense.

Instead he turns to the nearest reliable ghost in the vicinity.

“Hey, Susan, can you go-“

The vigilantes can’t hear how she interrupts him because she was standing there the whole time and knows exactly what he was going to ask.

“Okay, thanks. Meet at mine.”

The ghost woman nods and flies off to go hunt down dear old Greg and Danny turns to Red Robin. He makes a casual move with his head to say ‘follow me’ and continues walking down the sidewalk past the guy and further into the old, decrepit buildings he’s been squatting in.

They already know he’s a runaway, being homeless shouldn’t come as a shock to them. Even with his two jobs, he can’t afford to rent an apartment. No wonder so many people are in poverty or in the slums.

He ducks into his rundown building, ignoring the rats scurrying away, and hops up the rickety stairs, avoiding the ones that were unstable. It was a nightmare figuring out which steps were faulty. Lots of injuries.

At the top he turns to see Red easily copying his movements up the stairs while Robin balances along the railing like a tight rope. When they reach the top at the same time Danny just stares at them for a moment before shaking his head in exasperation. Darn vigilantes. Why did Danny have to get caught up in this mess?

He turns, walking along the floor closest to the wall before getting to what he’s deemed his room.

It used to be an office from what he can tell. A desk pushed against the far wall and a ripped sofa he’s been using as a bed on the other wall. The floors were the most stable in this room which really won out.

Danny goes to the desk where all his papers are scattered over the surface. An organizational pattern only he understands as he shuffles through the pile he pulls from the cubby above the desk. It holds all the same information he sent into the police, just in its raw form with about twice the amount of useless information. Along with it is a few other ‘cases’ that sounds familiar that he just threw together into a pile. Maybe the genius detectives could decipher what he couldn’t.

“Here,” he says, holding out the stack. Red Robin doesn’t hesitate to take it off his hands.

There’s no chair for the desk anymore so he slides some papers out of the way to hop onto the desk to wait.

“No.”

The vigilantes look at him and he shakes his head and looks over to the side.

“No, Abby. I’m not wasting their time.”

Red Robin goes back to flipping through papers. Most of them were old business papers he had found in the office and just written on the back. Some were receipts or pamphlets or some other random scrap of paper he could get his hands on.

“Because yours was an accident. There’s nothing for them to solve.”

Robin watched him cautiously as if waiting for Danny to snap or suddenly turn violent. Instead he leans back on his hands in a vulnerable position which screamed ‘I don’t want to hurt anyone’.

“There is a lot more information here than what was submitted to the police,” Red Robin comments neutrally, purposefully ignoring Danny’s exasperated sigh and one-sided conversation.

Danny shrugs in defense, “Didn’t think all of it was relevant.”

The vigilante doesn’t respond.

Robin drifts closer as Danny gives a withering glare to the corner. He examines the mess of papers surrounding the teen in the low lighting.

“Are these all files of victims?”

Danny glances over them with a knowledgeable eye.

“Most.” He twists to point at the top left corner of the cubbies. “Those are accidents though… well, what sounds like accidents.”

“There should be more.”

Danny looks at the boy with a tilted head and raises brow.

“Not everyone sticks around,” he explains simply.

Then something draws his attention away across the room. Surprisingly his eyes don’t glaze over like someone with mental illness, instead they sharpen to see something they can’t. It resembled Constantine or Thomas.

“Greg, these guys wanna talk to you.”

What proceeds is a very awkward interaction with Danny as a middle man between victim and vigilante. Despite the need for a translator, Red Robin does in fact get a lead from the conversation.

“Thank you for your cooperation.”

Danny nods. “Sure, no problem. Just don’t rat me out to the police and I can help with any other case that pops up with a ghost attached.”

“You know we can help with your living situation,” Red Robin offers with a glance around the room.

“What, and put me in foster care? No thanks, I’ll pass.”

“There are other options,” Robin chimes in with nonchalance that implies he doesn’t actually care.

“You don’t pass for eighteen, but if you let me make you a new ID we could say you’re emancipated.”

Danny frowns.

“I’d have to be sixteen to be eligible for emancipation.”

“You could be sixteen.”

No, he really couldn’t. Maybe if you squint your eyes and tilt your head, but Danny is fourteen with all the baby fat and innocent face that comes with it. His license now is a clear fake to anyone who sees it, but in this city no one’s gonna question it to his face. They just raise a brow, look at him, then shrug it off and roll with the lie.

“What do you want?” He demands. All this good will and wanting to help him can’t be free.

“We want to help,” Red says too easily.

Danny stares for a second, eyes narrowed as he tries to block out the multiple voices around him.

Insurance. He wants Danny to owe him so he can keep coming back for more information.

“I just told you I would help. Why are you still trying to get leverage?” He demands with irritation.

“We want to help-“

“You want me in your back pocket.”

Red Robin doesn’t give that a response, his lips pressing together to make a hard line.

Instead of pushing, he surprisingly takes a step back and heads towards the door, papers still in hand. Danny doesn’t argue.

Robin ducks out first, blending into the shadows without even a glance over his shoulder. Red Robin pauses in the doorway.

“Don’t try to skip town,” he states like an order. Like if Danny did in fact try, he would be found and brought back.

It didn’t even cross Danny’s mind.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he says tiredly, too fed up with the day to defend himself.

Red Robin watches him for a moment before nodding and disappearing out the room.

Danny slumps with a groan, finally sliding off the desk to shuffle to the couch, body flopping face first into the worn cushions.

It’s silent to everyone else but Danny.

“I know.”

…

“I know, Jack, but I don’t trust them. Even if he is your son.”

Danny never noticed the bug planted by Robin on the underside of the desk.

*Jason is captured by the JL, now sitting in the interagetion room*

Jason: -ha! good luck with that.

Hal: now listen here you little-

Dick: *storms into the intergetion room*

Dick: HOOD!

Clark: Nightwing-

Jason: oh shit- heeeeeey dickhead

Flash: you know him-?

Dick: Jay, Jaybird, Hood, little wing-

Jason: *leans away*

Dick: we all love you-

Hal: the fuck-?

Dick: but WHY THE FUCK would you skip your weakly check-in and get arrested imideatly after that?!??!

Jason: listen-

Dick: no, you listen. I had a hell of these past few hours. Dealing with a bunch of bad guys in one thing- but dealing with an army of children who are worried about you and would kill for you? Why the fuck did you think it was a good idea??????

Jason: oh, OH SHIT-

Dick: yeah, Lizzie almost had my head when she called becase you didn't check in.

Flash: am I the only one who doesn't know what's going on...?

Hal: nope.

Jason: OH FUCK *pulls his hands ot of the cuffs*

Hal: now wait a minute-

Jason: *taps his helmet* fuck, I can't-

Dick: *already has a hologram video call pulled up*

Jason: Carrot top!

A small child: Hood!

Jason, in a soft voice: I'm so sorry I didn't call-

Lizzie: helmet.

Jason: ya know I can't

Lezzie, pounting: helmet.

Jason: *hungs his head low and sighs* fine

Jason: *pulls off his helmet with a soft click and hiss*

Jason, just in his domino now: *looks up again* happy?

the JL: *absolutely bamboozled because the kid did what they couldn't do in 5 hours in 5 seconds. Also, how young is Red Hood?????*

Lizzie: *nods*

Jason, voice even softer: I'll be back soon, please tell the others kids I'm okay, alright?

Lizzie: *nods again*

Jason: bye

Lizzie: *waves*

Dick: *ends the call, grinning like an idiot*

Jason: *puts his helmet back on* shut up, Dickhead

Dick: you're soft *smirks*

Jason: oh you-

Hal: what the FUCK was THAT?!

Dick: *snickers*

Dinah, a bit worried: who was that kid?

Jason: that was-

Dick: one of the many kids hes taken under his wing

Barry: what?

Dick: oh, you didn't know? *smirks even wider*

Jason: don't you dare-

Dick: Jay here, became the patreon and protector of the homeless youht in Gotham, especially the Crime Alley

Clark: *smiles like a proud parent 'cus he already knew*

Jason: my reputation! *groans, hides his head in his hands and makes a sound like a dying bird*

that time when danny accidentally overshadowed bruce wayne (dpxdc)

Danny felt a pull on his gut- a pull that he’s intimately familiar with, a pull that is almost always followed by a summoning. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to follow the sensation, going ghost in the middle.

Meanwhile, Bruce Wayne was sitting in the middle of a chalk circle, tied haphazardly to a chair. A cloth was stuffed into his mouth, likely because his kidnappers got tired of his brain-dead yapping. He internally rolled his eyes, waiting for one of the Bats to “save” him.

His kidnappers stepped out of the shadows, surrounding the chalk circle which was not actually a chalk circle and holy shit that’s a ritual circle and he’s a sacrifice and has the Brucie Wayne persona bled through to his actual brain because how could he have missed that-

The cultists began chanting in Latin, and Bruce began to panic slightly. Where were the bats??

Before they finished the supposed summoning, the Bats broke through a window. They took down the cultists with ease, readying themselves to retrieve Bruce from the circle.

It was too late, however.

The chalk circle began to glow a strangely familiar shade of green, reminiscent of the Lazarus Pits. Red Robin, Nightwing, and Red Hood attempted to break the chalk circle, but a barrier went up and he couldn’t get through. The Bats were forced to watch in horror as their father- the man who took them in when they had nothing, the man who raised them, loved them, helped them, saved them- was consumed by green light.

After a minute, the green light died down. Siting unscathed in the center of the light was Bruce. The Bats rushed to him, ready to check him over, when he stood up robotically and turned to them.

“Yo, uh, I think I accidentally possessed Batman? I kinda gotta get back to school, I have a math test that I was actually prepared for and now I’m going to miss it! Also I am so not used to being in the body of a grown man, can y’all exorcise me or something?”

This, this is what I want

Learning to Be Someone's Favorite

braindead version of this post

Tim, of course, would never believe that he could be anyone's favorite person.

Tim doesn’t expect anyone to like him—not right away, not even eventually. He’s learned to approach every new connection with the quiet, sinking knowledge that the best he can hope for is tolerance, and the worst is outright disdain. It’s not paranoia, not in his mind. It’s pattern recognition.

People don’t dislike him on purpose, not really. But Tim knows what he is—a little too sharp, a little too obsessive, a little too much. He doesn’t have the warmth Dick has, the easy charisma that draws people in. He’s not raw passion and magnetic energy like Jason. He’s not Cass’s quiet strength or Damian’s undeniable presence.

Tim is… there. Functional. Useful. And if people don’t like him, that’s fine. It’s not like he’s giving them much reason to.

Which is why Danny throws him completely off balance.

At first, Tim doesn’t know what to make of the guy. Danny just… shows up one day, cracks a joke, and slips into Tim’s life like he belongs there. He’s ridiculous and charming in that obnoxious, impossible-to-hate way that makes Tim’s head spin. And he stays. That’s the strangest part. Danny keeps showing up—at the Cave, during patrols, sometimes in Tim’s apartment with no warning, casually eating cereal like it’s completely normal.

Tim keeps waiting for the catch. People like Danny don’t stick around for people like him, not once they get to know him.

But Danny stays.

And not just stays. He latches onto Tim like it’s second nature, treating him like a gravitational center. Danny always seems to know when Tim’s burning the candle at both ends—he’ll show up uninvited with coffee and snacks, throw Tim over his shoulder (literally) to force him to take a break, or just plop down next to him and start chatting away about nothing until Tim feels the tension in his shoulders loosen.

Danny likes him.

The realization hits Tim like a sucker punch one night after a particularly grueling patrol. They’re sitting on a rooftop, splitting the last of the takeout Danny insisted on ordering, when Danny leans back and says, casually, “You know you’re my favorite, right?”

Tim nearly chokes on his noodles. “What?”

“You’re my favorite person,” Danny repeats, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He grins, bright and unbothered. “I thought you knew that.”

Tim stares, unsure what to say. It doesn’t feel real—he’s used to Danny’s teasing, but this isn’t that. Danny’s just... stating it. Like it’s fact. Like Tim is the kind of person anyone would ever call their favorite.

His first instinct is to reject it, but he doesn’t. Not outright. Instead, he files the comment away, tucks it deep into the place where he hides the things that scare him most.

After that, Tim notices the way Danny treats him. How he never seems to prefer anyone else, how he always seeks Tim out first, how he lights up when Tim enters a room. It’s overwhelming, and terrifying, because Tim’s used to relationships being conditional. He knows how easily favor can turn into irritation, frustration, dislike.

Tim starts to tread lightly. He keeps himself carefully controlled around Danny, terrified of making the wrong move. He goes over every word they exchange, second-guessing himself constantly. The last thing he wants is to push Danny away—or worse, turn that bright, unwavering affection into resentment.

But Danny doesn’t seem to notice Tim’s cautiousness. Or if he does, he doesn’t care. He keeps showing up, keeps throwing an arm around Tim’s shoulders, keeps calling him his favorite with a grin and a wink. He stays.

And slowly—so slowly Tim doesn’t even notice at first—he starts to believe it.

Danny Fenton thinks Tim Drake is the coolest person in the multiverse.

And maybe, just maybe, Tim is finally starting to think it’s not a mistake.

I'm currently making a survival book, its going to inclue everything you need to run, how to cross borders (only if necessary), the safest states right now, the unsafest states, how to protect yourself in a red area, what places to stay at if your running, nearby jobs and other ways to get money, what foods are best to get, how to make certain foods, electronic related advice, the safest messaging apps, what not to say in messages, guide to doctors if you have a uterus or are a women, what plants are safe to eat, various poisons, how to deal with cops, a map of the local area and where cops hang out, how to survive in the woods, clothes you should bring, what to do about your period if your on the run, methods of birth control and what's the best, how to legally change your name and the amount of money it costs, how to a car if your in a non walkable area, first aid tips, how to get and use a burner phone, what type of weapons you might need and how to use them, a guide on how to use most commonplace guns, chargers to use for any devices you might bring.

All of it, I've got multiple notebooks to I'm spreading it across them.

I'm looking for other things to add too it, or if you see one or more subjects in here that you know a lot about/ can help with, feel free to reply or reblog with it, and if you don't want it attached to your profile, my asks are open and free to use. Anything is helpful, anything at all.

I'll be deleting this by January, you have until then to send.

Please, please please please, reblog this. don't just 'like' it

Cooked

I made a knife pi to celebrate

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.