Imzemo - ??

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?!”

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?”

Don't you worry about my pronouns. My pronouns are pretty standard. Worry about my adverbs. My most frequent ones are "omniously", "haphazardly" and "obliviously".

Danny's rogues have been spreading a little misinformation.

In their defense, it was really funny.

They've been spreading the word via Ouija boards, seances, and any other attempt to speak with the dead that Phantom is the High King of Ghosts.

Except that position doesn't really exist.

Sure, they called Pariah Dark the King of Ghosts, but that was at his own request.

The Infinite Realms are vast, with many different cultures and lands, and there are a lot of Kings. It's not a special title, honestly, it's just the title used to delegate who, in a culture, has to put up with talking to the Observants.

So they decided to get the little shit back for stopping them from playing in the Living world. They're just tryna have fun!

And destroy stuff.

But destroying stuff is fun!

As is telling a shit ton of flesh puppet idiots that Phantom, that scrawny kid, is the "High King" of the Realms.

This resulted in him constantly getting summoned to cult summonings, running him ragged and giving them, his rogues, more time to play.

But uh.

Ember is starting to think they may have fucked up.

Because babypop just broke down into a sobbing, heaving panic attack at the sight of her.

She manages to get out of him that he hasn't slept in three days.

And like.

He's half living?

He's supposed to sleep more than that?

Yeah they fucked up.

Ugh.

She's gonna have to go talk to them, isn't she?

So that's how a meeting between Justice League and Justice League Dark gets interrupted by the ghost of a rock star, with a living teenager having one of the worst panic attacks any of them have seen in awhile cradled in her arms, asking Justice League Dark to invent an amulet that prevents Summonings.

Disney princess Danny

It’s known that animals can sense death. Instances where pets gravitate to someone on their death bed and dogs barking at ghosts. Danny already knew this from before he half died, so he was expecting animals to rat him out with their sixth sense or become aggressive or cower from him. Instead, they all behaved the complete opposite than he anticipated.

Stray cats come running to rub against his legs, dogs nearly pull arms out of their owners sockets to get close to him, birds bring him trinkets, raccoons lead him to trash cans full of food, and even squirrels and rats get close to just sit on his shoulders. It’s… weird, but not unwelcome. He always loved animals.

Danny had come to semi-trust the animals that come to him. They know where the good food is and drinking water, they know when to steer away from a certain area right before something happens, and they always know when a person is bad or okay. So when an animal leads him somewhere, he follows. Sometimes they need help and he’s the one they go to. He’s helped plenty of raccoons out of garbage bins and cats out of gutters to have a good relationship with the animals of the streets.

What he isn’t expecting is to be led to Robin again and again.

The first time it was a cat. A mangy old Tom cat that rubbed against his torn up jeans and looked back with - Danny swears- a raised eyebrow. Danny follows and soon enough he finds himself standing a few paces away from Robin who is kneeling down to give clean water to the momma cat and her three kittens.

Robin freezes and so does Danny. They stare at each other.

“Um, hi?”

Robin straightens immediately, leaving the water on the ground where the cats can drink. Tom cat swaggers over to guard them.

“Civilian. Is there something I can assist you with?”

The dude is probably a year or two younger than Danny himself and he has to suppress a smile at the formal tone.

“Oh, uh, no? The cat just led me here.”

He can see Robin glance at the Tom cat who was now licking himself.

“Is that so?”

“Yea. Sorry to interrupt. Animals just like me for some reason.”

The three kittens one by one all totter over to him on unsteady legs after they had their fill. The orange one starts trying to climb his pant leg with its short and sharp claws digging into the jean material.

“They really like me.”

He carefully sits down crossed legged so the others could also climb all over him. Robin watches for a moment silently and when he sees Danny react well to the little pricks from tiny claws, he seems it safe enough to return to patrol.

The second time it’s a couple of rats that lure him away to find Robin fighting off more thugs than he probably should by himself. So taking the rats’ movements as encouragement, he takes the closest thing, a piece of plywood, and hit the nearest guy over the head with it. The guy crumbles like a wet sock and Danny is moving on to the next thug.

They sweep the floor with these guys with only a few splinters and a twisted ankle.

“It was dangerous to intervene,” Robin tells him. “I had it handled.”

“Yea, I know.”

The vigilante didn’t seem to be expecting that response from his stunned silence. He straightens as much as he can with bruised ribs.

“Well, I’m glad you know your mistake. Don’t let it happen again.”

Danny neither agrees nor disagrees, just shrugs and allow the rats to climb up his leg to his shoulder. Robin looks at them curiously. Danny gives a salute before leaving. Robin gives him a nod.

The third time it happened the roles are reversed.

Some people from the local gang are bullying the lonely, homeless teen to run drugs for them. They don’t seem to understand the word ‘no’. It gets to the point where Danny finds himself with his back against the wall and all his exits blocked with a guy shoving him again and again.

“Stop it!”

“I’ll stop if you agree.”

“I’m not doing it!”

Frank the raccoon and his buddy Bobby launch themselves at the guy’s ankles. The guy shrieks and pulls a gun.

“No!”

Before Danny can dive for it, a projectile comes out of nowhere to knock it out of his hands. He can’t even process what happened before the three are running away, two raccoons chattering at their heels before coming back to crowd him in worry.

Danny looks up to see Robin with a sword out threateningly, staring at where the three fled. He sheaths the sword after a few seconds.

“Are you okay?”

Danny realizes he’s breathing a little heavy and slows down a bit as he leans over to pet the top of the two heads.

“I’m- yea, I’m okay. Thanks for the save. Those guys were jerks.”

“I’m inclined to agree.”

Robin is staring at the raccoons and it takes Danny a long moment to piece things together.

“Did- did they lead you to me?”

Robin doesn’t answer right away.

“You have loyal friends.”

Danny smiles at the weird compliment. Looking down at the two heroes of the evening Danny is also inclined to agree.

The fourth time is funny in a way Danny doesn’t know how to describe.

It was the pigeons. They were at fault of course for how Robin’s secret identity was outed. By pigeons.

The grey birds swarmed Danny and settled in a cloud of feathers. One holding something in its beak before plopping it down in his lap like a golden retriever. It flaps off as Danny picks up the obvious wallet clip holding quite a bit of cash and a student ID. The card says Damian Wayne from Gotham Academy. Just then Robin comes skidding around the corner, clearly out of breath and freezes.

Danny looks down at the clip in his hand and back up at the vigilante. He looks at the crazy amount of birds around him and again at the vigilante.

Said vigilante straightens and approaches like he called Danny there.

“If I could have that so I could return it to its proper owner.”

He holds out a hand with false arrogance, but Danny can see the nervousness in his stance. Danny looks down one last time before putting the clip in the outstretched hand without a word.

Robin nods once, pockets the ID and money, and immediately leaves.

The fifth time just cements what Danny had already figured out.

He was at the park. Not Ivy’s park of course, the one where people actually like to go. He was helping the squirrels find and hide acorns when he’s nearly knocked over by a massive black dog.

“Titus!”

The end of the Great Dane’s leash is a familiar face. Damian Wayne’s eyes widen in recognition as he finally sees who Titus was so excited to get to.

“Uh-“

Danny has to close his mouth quickly or else the massive tongue on his face would have turned into a French kiss.

“Titus! Heel!”

Danny laughs at the embarrassed blush on the other’s face, obviously not used to his companion going off the rails like this.

“It’s alright. We both know how animals like me.”

Damian narrows his eyes to analyze the teen. Danny wasn’t about to pretend and Damian looked like he was debating whether to follow his lead or not. There was literally no one within hearing distance.

“Have you told anyone?”

Danny thought about redirecting, but thought better of it. He actually liked Robin and what he did.

“Nope. I haven’t and I won’t. I swear.”

Damian tilts his head and then looks down at Titus. He seems to come to a decision before looking back at Danny.

“You’re homeless, are you not?”

Didn’t think they were being that direct but sure.

“Yea?”

“I will pay you in food and shelter to take care of my animals.”

Danny blinks. Then actually considers the offer.

“What kind of animals? How many we talking?”

Damian grins.

The family finds out pretty quickly when a teen they’ve never seen before walks into the Batcave with two pails of food for the bats, Titus at his heels and Alfred the cat perched contently on his shoulders.

Duke stares and Bruce short circuits.

“Um, who are you?”

“Hi! I’m Danny. Damian employed me to take care of the animals.”

“O…kay?”

“And where is Damian?” Bruce sounds like it physically hurts to ask and Danny does not envy Damian’s position right now.

“Upstairs. I think he said he was going to his art studio.”

Bruce marches past the boy to the stairs before stopping abruptly and turning to Danny and Duke.

“Don’t touch anything. Watch him.”

Duke and Danny blink at each other for a moment as Bruce disappears up the stairs.

“I’m Duke by the way.”

Danny grins.

this is a sequel to this.

The hoodlums and nightlings: @skulld3mort-1fan, @satanicrutialspecialist, @terzatheunderscorerima, @autumnwulf, @jaggedheart11, @froartuck,

Danny is panicking.

Keep reading

hope is a skill

I love it when there's choas that most associate with Dan, Dani, and Danny.

___

Dan, Dani and Danny just finished a meeting with the Justice League (with the YJL on the side lines just being nosey) to talk about alliances between the League and the Phantoms.

Superman: Phantom.

Dan, Dani and Danny: Yes.

Flash: Wait, you're all Phantom?

Dani: Yeah, it's our family name, duh.

Superman: We prefer to work with the eldest Phantom-

Danny, who still looks the same age he died but is actually 15: That would be me.

Everyone is shocked.

Dan, scoffed: We're ghosts, our physical age doesn't reflect our actual ages.

Kid Flash: Wait, how old are you guys?

Dan: 4 years old.

Dani: 6 months old.

Dan: Baby-

Dani just stuck out her tongue.

Danny: I'm 15.

Robin: But you show up throughout history?

Danny: I do odd jobs for the ghost of time.

Green Latern: We'll circle back to that later. So, how are you guys related?

Dan: We're the same person.

JL + YJL: Wha-?

Dan: Me and her are variations of that one.

Batman: Elaborate.

Dan: I'm from another timeline that doesn't exist anymore.

Dani: I'm his clone!

Danny: And I'm just Danny.

Flash: Didn't you call her your cousin? Wouldn't she be your daughter?

Danny: It's interchangeable, we change what we call each other everyday. Sometimes I'm their brother, cousin or parent. Which one depends on the day.

Dan: We honestly don't care.

Flash: Since you're from a destroyed timeline, wouldn't she also be your clone too?

Dan: Naw, it's a little more complex than that.

Dani: He's actually combined ghosts of Danny and Plasmius combined with Danny's memories. In hindsight, that makes him their child. Which means we're actually full siblings.

Danny: Which is weird since Plasmius is actually an old man with an unhealthy obsession with my mom and me. He was my parents' college friend and is my godfather and arch nemesis.

Kid Flash: ... There is so many things wrong with that statement.

Danny: And that's why we call him a fruitloop.

Aqualad: There seems to be an issue with archnemesises cloning their hero counterparts.

Dani, squealing: THERES ANOTHER CLONE!!

Superboy: Hi.

Dani, suddenly in Superboy's face: Mom, look! He can pass off as one of us.

Robin: That makes no sense, he has blue eyes and black hair, you have white hair and green eyes.

All three Phantoms, with an inhumanly large and toothy grin, turned human: You sure 'bout that?

Batman: You have human disguises?

Danny: Sure, we'll go with that.

Dani, on Superboy's back: Can we keep him?

Dan: He'll fit right in.

Danny: Superman is his dad-

Superman, bristling: Its not my son.

The Phantoms just stare at him:...

Danny: No.

JL: ??

Dan: I won't make a mess.

JL, confused: ??

Dani: I'll help with clean up.

JL, concerned: !?!?

Danny: No, now help me convince Superboy to join our fraid.

bruce who thinks tim is his one good honest and reliable child and his best friend superman who knows full well that tim is full of shit but bruce will not hear a bad word against him and it drives him INSANE

clark watches tim lie through his fucking teeth about a mission that clark was THERE for and he can’t even hear his heart miss a beat. tim grins at him behind bruce’s back and it’s at this point that clark realises that tim can straight up control his heartbeat to the point that not even superman can tell. he usually just doesn’t bother because he knows bruce wont listen to a word clark says anyway so who gives a fuck.

clark is terrified of this child. jon befriends damian and the JLA are confused as to why he’s not even a little worried about his kid hanging out with the scary sword kid but he’s just so relieved bcs next to tim this is nothing.

then kon comes home to introduce his boyfriend and clark’s stood there like. FUCK NO PLEASE GOD

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.