Little Star's Favorite

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.

Bruce: I'm here, Nightwing. What's the situation?

Dick: This one is a doozy, Batman. About thirty minutes ago, GCPD responded to a Killer Croc call. Croc was seen thrown out of a manhole by an agitated meta who claims the villain was trespassing in his side of the sewers.

Damian:....I beg your pardon, but what does that mean?

Dick: Honestly Robin, can't even blame you for that question. I'm confused, too.

Bruce: Where is the meta now? Is he dangerous?

Dick: Not that I saw. He seems mostly upset that people are interrupting his dinner. This is his manhole. *Knocks on Manhole cover*

Danny, who's been living in Gotham for three months and extremely homeless popping out:

Dick: As you can see, the suspect is going all out tonight. He's even wearing his dinner hat. He screamed that information at me for five solid minutes.

Danny: ITS MY FANCY DINNER HAT!

Dick: Yes, you said that already.

Takeout Box

** this came to me in a fever dream and now y'all have to read it too**

Jason wasn’t entirely sure what to do. There was a large cardboard box on his doorstep, and not only was it faintly glowing green, it was also rattling and making muffled noises. He considered the possibility of Ivy, Harley, and Selina dropping off a box of feral cats, but surely they wouldn’t target Jason “Peters”, right?

With most strange doorstep boxes, he might have called for backup immediately. In fact, he ought to call for this box, especially with the sticky note on top. “Caution- May Bite”

It couldn’t be a bomb, what with the shaking and the noises.

Jason’s ears caught the sounds of his next door neighbor moving around their apartment, and he made up his mind. He could call the other bats after the suspicious box was out of the open.

With great care, he slipped on his oven mitts (better safe than sorry) and gingerly began pulling the box inside. It was heavier than he’d been expecting, but not more than he could handle by himself, which he thanked some unseen deity for. The movement stilled to a whisper almost as soon as the first edge of the box cleared the doorway, and the noises also calmed down some.

Once he’d gotten the box far enough into the apartment to close the door, he began circling it, looking for more identifying markings. He found himself sorely disappointed- the only visible symbols belonged to the note.

Three distinct knocks sounded from the box, nearly scaring Jason out of his skin.

“Hello?”

Three knocks again.

“Is someone- in there?”

Three knocks, more urgent this time.

Well. Fuck.

“Okay, okay, just, be still a moment?”

Carefully, one hand still protected by an oven mitt, Jason dug out a knife and slid it shallowly through the tape holding the box together. With the other hand he reached into his pocket for his phone to tap out an emergency code.

At least one bat would be coming through his window within fifteen minutes, and Jason could hold out until then if the person was hostile, but he wasn’t leaving someone trapped in a box.

He pulled the flaps open to reveal not one, but two dark haired children bound and gagged, curled up around each other. The one on the left growled a little around the gag, only for the other one to bump purposefully into them in reproach.

“Holy shit.”

Crap. No. Cursing around kids was bad. Bad Jason.

In a stroke of stupidity, he reached down and undid the gag on the growly one first, only to find sharp teeth digging into his hand after he pulled the piece of cloth away.

“Hey! No, stop that! Fuck, kid, I’m trying to help!”

The other kid made a small noise, and Bitey let go. Jason grimaced, but moved so that he could undo the other gag.

Calm took several deep breaths once the gag was off, and Jason wondered how, exactly, the kids had been breathing up until he opened the box. Their noses hadn’t been covered, but- Cardboard boxes were not conducive to breathing.

Instead of asking questions, Jason busied himself untying the kids, taking care not to let his hands go near Bitey’s mouth again. He figured he could ask questions while he found all the knots.

“So- what’s your story?”

Calm snickered.

“You’re bad at this.”

With a shrug, Jason tugged another knot loose. He didn’t want to use a knife this close to the kids. Kids were wiggly, right?

“Well, pardon me for not expecting a pair of kids at my front door.”

“I’m Danny and she’s Ellie. We were told that we’d find family here.”

“Who told you that?”

Now that the two were free, they looked at each other. Bitey- no, Ellie, was the first to speak up.

“CW did. Just so you know, no returns or refunds, the receipt was lost the moment you brought us inside.”

Danny smacked Ellie on the side of the head.

“He doesn’t have to keep us, Ellie. We can find some empty house to live in or something if he doesn’t want to. CW said we just had to live here for a few years, nothing about having a guardian.”

“Danny, we’re eight.”

Jason was about to ask who this ‘CW’ was, but Danny continued planning to live homeless in Gotham.

“We’ll just leave this haunt- you can feel it, he doesn’t want us here. Surely the Lady will shelter us until CW comes to pick us up.”

Ellie reached up to scratch at the back of her neck, and Jason could see a rash blooming on her arm. When he looked over at Danny, who was still muttering about asking for sanctuary in Gotham, the boy also had a flush of red rash spreading across his face.

There must be an allergen in the box.

“Let’s- get out of the box. And get you two wiped down for irritants.”

Danny shrugged and scratched at his own skin.

“It’s your haunt- we can’t be here if you don’t want us here. Well, we can, but it hurts.”

“My apartment hurts you?”

Ellie nodded, sitting on her hands to keep from scratching herself.

“It stopped when you brought the box inside, but- well.”

The two helped each other stand and clamber out of the box. Once they were no longer touching the glowing cardboard, it disappeared, leaving behind the sticky note. Ellie scooped it up, showed it to Danny, who shrugged, and then stuffed it in her mouth.

Jason startled.

“Hey! That’s evidence!”

“Goop now,” said Ellie, still chewing.

Danny took Ellie’s hand and started pulling her towards the door, and Jason could see even more of the bright red rash on the back of the boy’s legs.

“We’ll get out of your hair, Avenger. Sorry to drop in.”

“Danny!”

Ellie dug her heels in.

“It’s safer here! CW said it would be- even,” her voice dropped low, and her eyes darted around a little. “Even Dan said the Avenger would be safe. And if Dan said it-“

Jason decided to circle around and stop the kids before Danny pulled his sister out the door.

“Why would it be safer here with me?”

“Because you’re like us.” Danny and Ellie spoke at the same time.

To Jason’s extreme relief, Nightwing slid in through the window in the apartment kitchen just in time to have heard the kids.

“How is he like you?” Dick was smiling widely, but Jason could see the tension beneath the smile.

“He died and came back different.”

Dick’s smile instantly dropped, and the room went silent. Jason stared at the kids, and the kids stared resolutely back. They hadn’t turned to look at Dick at all, not even when he had spoken.

He could see the rashes start to recede, first from Ellie (sue him, he liked that she bit) and then Danny.

“I’m telling B.”

“Don’t you dare, Dickhead. I’ll tell him he’s got grandkids myself.”

The kids looked at each other and then back up to Jason.

“You’re keeping us?” Ellie’s voice was small, and her tone was different from anything Jason had heard from her so far.

With a firm nod, Jason patted their shoulders, turning them to face inside the apartment instead of the door.

“Sure. Us undead have to stick together, you know?”

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?!”

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!

I found and read this cute story on AO3, about Frostbite being Danny's legal parental guardian. In the story Bruce Wayne runs into Frostbite (in his full yeti glory no disguise) who is setting up for school bake sale. Got me thinking about what if Danny's past rogues took turns filling in and doing parental stuff especially at school functions. Like Frostbite does the bake sale, Pandora shows up for his games, Ghostwriter goes to all of the PTA meetings, Clockwork goes to teacher meetings, so on and so forth.

The 43rd Annual Gotham Academy Bake Sale by Faeriekit

Ohhh, that sounds good! I'll get it a read when I have some time. Thank you for the rec!

Danny Fenton is one of the lucky few who have a very involved household. His various family members would always sign up for any school event the boy needed support in. It didn't mean that the boy won everything, but as a teacher for nine years, Emily has come to learn how much it mattered to just have someone show up.

She had seen students whose entire faces light up after spotting someone in the crowd in the same amount she saw a student's hope crumble after they scanned the room.

Danny was a polite young man, a bit on the shyer side, but kind and not a troublemaker, his previous school had her believe. If anything, he seemed to struggle with fitting in, but no students blatantly disliked him.

The general opinion of Danny matched, as her students would say, "I know him from class, but I don't really talk to him. He seems cool though".

Maybe that's why so many people were supposed by his family to march into the auditorium during Danny's talent show. Seeing him wave at the row before starting his gymnastic act had been such a surprise.

Now, Gotham wasn't a close-knit community, not with the size of their city and the millions of people living within it, but everyone would have noticed that Danny was adopted.

After all, he was the only one that wasn't glowing or a large humanoid animal. They cheered the loudest among the crowd; uncaring Danny got bronze- having lost to Joey's tapping dancing for second and Damian's spectacular multi-instrumental cover of a meme song for first place- and Danny beamed back at them.

Gotham was known for not being meta-friendly, but that was only due to a few mean people who shouted the loudest on media outlets. Many of Emily's students were meta, had family that were meta, or knew someone meta. It wasn't a common enough trait one would encounter a meta on every outing, but you would see them in Gotham well enough.

Everyone knew, but no one said it out loud. In the same way, she knew which students' parents were in the country illegally but worked harder than anyone else. Saying anything would help the cops, or worse, the rich running Gotham.

Even the most prejudiced Gothamite would rather be spat on then give them aid. And those who were so prejudiced to help the poor man's enemies, well, Emily has lived here long enough to know they vanished rather quickly. The smart ones kept their mouths shut.

No one could forget what happened to that guy who accidentally insulted Penguin. His grandmother had been an illegal immigrant on his mother's side.

No one messed with that side of the family.

"Hello, Mrs. Jackson." Danny's adoptive father, Dr. Frostbite said, ducking down to avoid banging his head on the door. On one of his shoulders was a box of hotdog wieners; on the other were multiple bags of bread. "I'm here for my snack bar shift."

Emily tilts her head back to look the Yeti in the eye. He had been shocked the first time they met, but she could admit that Dr. Frostbite was a relatively gentle and wise soul. "Welcome aboard. The girls are just about to take the field. You can put that down by the crock pot over there."

The mountain of white fur brushes by her with the grace of a king as Dr. Frostbite does as she says. There were no customers at the window, so she leaned on the counter and offered him a smile. "Did you enjoy the game?"

"Yes. I was saddened our team did not win, but Danny hit a home run." Dr. Frostbite's sharp smile could have been frightening if he wasn't oozing parental pride. "I caught it all on video."

Emily opens her mouth to respond when a hand lands loudly on the counter with a loud crack. Her heart leaps, and she looks into Danny's Ember. She isn't one of Emily's students, though she does appear to be a teenager in appearance.

You know. If it wasn't for her hair made of fire. Or her blue skin. Or her glow.

"I set a boy on fire," She announces with a cackle.

"That's so?" Dr. Frostbite gently rips open the box, taking out the hotdog packages. With one large claw, he rips a hole into it and lets the few weiners slide into the crockpot with a gentle splash. "What did he do?"

"Tried to slap me on the butt." She huffs, rolling her eyes, but her smirk doesn't lose an edge of smugness.

"Well done." Dr. Frostbite praises placing the lid back on. It always surprised Emily to see such careful actions from the large creature. "I assume you did so out of Pandora's line of sight?"

"Naturally. I don't want her lecturing me in front of the whole community." Ember scoffs, crossing her arms. Behind her, the top of Pandora's head can be seen swinging side to side over the dugout, keeping an eye on the ball.

She was the best volunteer referee because even the parents knew not to shout insulting things when she was present. Emily doesn't think she has had such peaceful games in a long while. Hopefully, Danny will try out again for baseball next year so the woman can return.

"Oh hey, you're Danny's English teacher, right? Mrs. Johnson?" Ember asks, leaning on the counter to give Emily a curious look.

When the blond nods, holding out her hand for a shake. "That's right. It's nice to see you again, Ember."

The girl's hair flairs a little as a grin grows on her face. Her hand is ice cold to the touch, but she's got a firm grip that her husband would appreciate. "Likewise. I got a message for you from Ghostwriter. He sent the notes for the last PTA meeting to you and the revision playwright for the musical you two were working on."

Emily's mood brightens up. "That's wonderful. Could you tell him I'll check it out when I get home and get to my laptop since my phone broke in the last Two-Face attack?"

Ember's hair flickers in the wind when she nods, but Danny bounces right up behind her just as she opens her mouth to speak. He's wearing his Gotham Acadamy Baseball uniform with pride despite them losing. "Hey, Frostbite, can I go with Tim and Duke to get Peoeria Pizza? We'll be back before the girl's game ends."

"Only if you take Ember with you," Dr.Frostbite says, nodding to his daughter, who looks alarmed to be included. "She needs more friends."

"Hey!"

"Sure. Come on, Ember, you'll get along with Duke. He likes old-school rock."

"It's not old-school!"

Emily laughs, watching the two siblings bicker as they stride away, blending into the crowd with no one batting an eye at the glowing girl anymore. How blessed that boy was.

"I'm glad Danny has gotten comfortable here. I always worried he never was going to have a normal childhood." Dr. Frostbite confesses to swirling the hotdogs around in the water to ensure each one is cooked.

"I think you and the rest are doing a wonderful job. You're a great father." She assures him, thinking wistfully of her William. He's been on deployment for a few months now and will likely miss the holidays again, but his contract is almost up. They may try for a child when he gets in the reserves. "How are things at the clinic?"

"Oh, wonderful. I'm grateful that Mr. Wayne has allowed the expansion of Thomas Wayne Memorial Clinic. Dr. Thompkins will be covering the east side of Gotham while I help those on the west. It's much more fulfilling than working in some hospital that demands funds for the silliest things. Back home, that would have been illegal. The people would have burned me at the stake if I had allowed anyone to pass away due to greed."

"My kind of people." She laughs. A sharp crack sounds from the field as the bat makes contact with the ball, and the crowd goes wild. It's a wonderful day.

@stealingyourbones

I thought of another DannyxBatpham where Danny doesn't get adopted or romantically involved:

To try and maintain some sense of normalcy for young Dick once he's settled in at the Manor, Bruce gets him involved in gymnastics. Of course, this eventually means competitions. And high level competitions all over the country.

The first competition out of state, he wins but it is a CLOSE thing. Too close. Who the hell is this dude out of Illinois? What do you mean his home practice is on the local park's JUNGLE GYM???

Or Danny started up gymnastics (for plot reasons, isn't he considered clumsy in canon? Or is that just a cover?) and found out he's actually pretty good! And it's fun! His parents are more present when competition is involved and he doesn't miss a single one. He and Dick go back and forth at every competition they're both at. It's a toss up as to who is going to win every time. And Dick kinda low-key hates how good Danny is, because he's pretty sure if Danny had his background and resources, he'd be winning every time. But Danny is also the absolutely sweetest and is always the loudest voice cheering for him and the first to congratulate him. They even strike up a little bit of a pen-pal thing.

So why does Danny suddenly quit in the middle of Freshman year?

Duke: Hey, do you guys remember my Dad's sister?

Tim: I literally don't know anything about you ever.

Steph: Weren't you on the streets after the Joker attack? Why didn't you go to your aunt's house or she come get you?

Duke: Well, she got married and had a daughter before she died-

Steph: DON'T JUST MOVE ON FROM THE QUESTIONS

Duke: -And recently, they've hit a really bad spot. Apparently, my Uncle Damon lost his job. They sold all their stuff, but it still wasn't enough. The house was taken by the bank two days ago.

Tim: Answer Steph's question Duke, or I assume your uncle is trying to explort you and make him a enemy of the Bats.

Duke sighing: My aunt and my uncle marriage ended in a really bad divorce, with her going no contact with him or my cousin Valerie, but I've always felt bad for not keeping in touch, you know? So I offered to house Valerie for a few weeks just until he can get in a good spot again.

Tim: I see. You're a good person Duke.

Duke: You say that like it's something to pity.

Steph: Seriously, Tim, this is the man that ran a child gang for months and took back the streets out of sheer spite. He's a good person, but he's crazy.

Duke: Thank you. Can I count on your support when I ask Bruce to have Valerie stay with us?

Steph: Depends. Is she hot?

Duke: Why would you ask me that?

Tim: No no no. She has a point. Answer the question.

Duke: I'm leaving

Three days later.

Duke: This is the game room. You can come in here whenever you like except during the meal times. Alfred has a strict sit down together rule. And this is-

Tim: Tim Drake, single, bi and I enjoy long walks on the beach.

Steph: Stephanie Brown. Single, Bi and I enjoy sicking dogs on Tim during his long walks on the beach.

Duke/Valerie:

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?