DCxDP Fanfic Idea: New Money

DCxDP fanfic Idea: New Money

The ghost zone doesn't have a formal form of currency. Depending on which part of the zone one is in, a trade could be made, or a Deal can be struck, but coins can rarely, if ever, be exchanged.

Every subculture that forms in the zone can eventually develop its own currency, but it will only have value within its territory. An example would be the credit crystals that the Far Frozen have developed, with a corresponding amount of funds floating inside their iced rocks. Still, if a Yeti were to travel even a foot outside their snowy mountains, the stones would become an interesting clothing choice and nothing else.

Ghosts value emotions more than any amount of gold or coin. Oftentimes, the most powerful of ecto beings would battle it out if a child's favorite teddy bear somehow found its way into the zone, though the thin cracks between worlds or an entire army of ghost mercenaries could be bought with a single pair of favorited socks.

It may not seem as much to the living, but to ghosts who could see the attachment embedded into the item, it meant everything. Some emotions could even be eaten off of the items if they were fresh enough, and while it did give a power boost, most of the time, the emotions were positive.

If a negative emotion was eaten, Ghosts could quickly become addicted to it, and when cut off from the negative emotion, they could soon fall apart in seconds.

Spectra was a famous example used in the zone as a precautionary tale for all new ghosts. Her beauty and power were only a facade to her desperation for angst emotions, and she flouted about the Zone, always on the hunt for her next fix.

It was pretty sad to see.

A few ghosts did their best to limit additions, such as Walker, who established himself a section of the zone using his great sense of justice that he had died with. He found human contraband that came into the zone unnaturally, sealing them away in his haunt.

These items usually had lickings of anxiety, desperation, or even fear attached to them and could quickly turn any ghost into a violent sort.

Walker's mission since his creation was to limit this exposal. He even arrested various ghosts that went to the human world through unnatural means, a majority coming back contaminated with human emotions and becoming a danger to fellow ghosts.

Most of these ghosts had items on them that were deemed worthless once all emotion was sucked out. Walker usually had his men take them to the Dump.

The Dump in the Ghost Zone was an extensive collection of worthless items gathered at the far right. It was known as a neutral section of the Zone, as every civilization and haunt often traveled there to eliminate clutter. Everything unwanted usually finds its way to the Dump.

Danny, after having a trial with Walker and coming to the understanding that he was not, in fact, attempting to make his fellow Ghosts addicted to anger- cause apparently a majority of Walker's prisoners were in there because of their exposal to Danny!- he was directed to the Dump to rid of his worthless ripped bag.

Danny had flown there expecting mountains and mountains of garbage. What he found instead were islands made entirely of gold. He flouted over the piles and piles of jewels, gold coins, random bills, and valuable items, gaping at the long collection that went further than his eye could see.

"What is all of this?" He gasps just as Box Ghost floats by carrying a jewelry box. He flips it open and shakes out a necklace with a diamond as large as Danny's palm onto the pile of jewelry. He gives Danny a friendly wave when they make eye contact.

He proudly flouts over to Danny, taking the neutral status of the Dump to heart. No fighting was allowed in this territory, much like Truce Day; all ghosts abided by this rule.

"The Box Ghost was lucky to be near a natural portal leading to the Human world's sea. This small rectangular object was once beloved by a grandmother, and now it is all mine!" He cheers, holding the jewelry box, practically half rotted and dripping wet over his head. A faint, gentle green glow surrounded it.

Danny blinks, pointing down at the necklace. "What about that? Aren't you going to keep it?"

"The Box Ghost has no need for useless stones!" The floating man even sticks his tongue to the necklace that could pay for Danny's college education (If it were real).

Only half joking, Danny asks, "Can I have it then?"

Box Ghost blinks, then gestures to the mountains and mountains of wealth. "If the Ghost Child wishes for a garage, he can take whatever he likes. No one will mind. Though, why would you waste time on soulless items? Box Ghost can not be sure!"

Box Ghost flies away laughing as if Danny was the one to mock for wanting a diamond necklace. He watches the ghost go before turning back to the mountains and mountains of shimmering gold.

Deciding to fly through the Dump to see what else he can find, Danny begins exploring- but not before taking the necklace- and later comes upon an island dedicated to various human clothing that looked like it came from hundreds of eras. He finds himself dressing up like a Lord of Old for fun when he happens upon leather bags.

Seeing as no one was there to stop him, Danny filled up each bag with chains and jewels, flying home in his new get up. He figured he could use some of the funds even if the gold was fake.

_____________________________________________________________

Oliver Queen is new money. His wealth came from only three generations ago, and while that is rather impressive, it held no candle to families like the Waynes.

The Waynes were old money, and their galas showed it. Every time old Brucie called him to celebrate, Oliver went along only to keep his company board happy.

They couldn't afford to offend one of their most prominent investors even if there were no thoughts behind Bruce Wayne's eyes. Oliver would have enjoyed himself more at these parties- if there was one thing Bruce Wayne knew how to do: throw a fantastic party- but sadly, he had to deal with the other old-money people who attended Bruce's parties.

The passive aggression reminders that he would never been on their level, the choking humiliation, the constant looking down on him. Well, it got exhausting. Especially since Oliver spent so much of his free time fighting for justice and trying to make the world a better place. These people talked and acted like they were above it all.

Like nothing could touch them, even when a majority of them were the cause for so much darkness, Oliver faced as Green Arrow.

He needed a stronger drink.

"Rather self-important for new money, isn't he?" A woman whispers loudly, mocking in every inch of her tone. Oliver's eyebrow twitches as he drowns his glass. He turns towards the voice, somewhat ready to cause a scene so he can go home, but it is a surprise to find that the gossiping woman isn't facing him

Rather, they are turned towards a young man, likely late teens, who is currently piling his plate high with sweets. The boy glances in the woman's direction before snorting unattractively and adding more to his plate.

Oliver is mildly impressed that he could make the woman flush with rage without saying anything. He had never seen the kid before, but he almost looked like a new Wayne with his dark hair and sparkling blue eyes.

He finds his feet walking towards the teenager before he can think about it. Something interesting may be at this gala after all.

"Hey, you seemed to really like fudge. Have you tried the raspberry ones? It's the best." He starts gesturing to a familiar chef's name in front of a chocolate tray. He had a sample of their work only a week ago when Batman brought some to the Watch Tower.

It was absolutely heaven.

The teen considered the pink color fudge before he took three cudes. With his bare hands. Well. New money, indeed.

"Thanks!" The boy chirps after stuffing one in his mouth and savoring the flavor.

"You're welcome. My son, Roy, really likes it too." He smiles as the boy glances towards where his adoptive son is currently chatting with Jason Todd. Those two find themselves attached to the hip whenever there is a gala. Maybe Roy will bring him home for the holidays soon. "I'm Oliver Queen, owner of Queen Industries."

"Danny Fenton," The boy responds slightly hesitantly. "Do all rich people do that? Add what makes them rich to their inductions?"

Oliver snorts, "Only the real tacky ones."

"Okay, Mr. Owner of Queen Industries."

Oh Oliver like this kid. He grins, ignoring the jab. "And what about you? What made you rich enough to be here to tonight."

The kid's eyes gain a certain glint of humor as he shrugs. "One man's trash is another man's treasure."

Oliver moves to ask what he means, but Brucie shows up then, and he can't find a way out of the conversation. He's buttering up to the big idiot, knowing he lost sight of the strange boy.

Afterward, Oliver looks into Danny Fenton, only to find that the boy somehow appears out of nowhere with billions of dollars but no known source of where he got them. It also seems Batman was already on the case, assuming the boy was counterfeiting somehow, but Oliver didn't get that sense from the kid.

Something wasn't adding up about the boy, but he didn't think it was illegal. He just had to convince the big bad bat of that. If only it could be as easy as convincing Bruce Wayne to spend millions of dollars.

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.

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!