You Would Think More Ghost King Danny Fics Would Go Into The Politics And Culture Of The Ghost Zone But

This is the chaos I want to see in a crossover 🤩

“Meet the Parents (And Their Armory)”

When Danny said, “You guys should meet my parents,” the Batkids had collectively paused.

Jason: “Aren’t those the ones who tried to dissect you?”

Danny: “They got better.”

Damian: “You are very casual about attempted vivisection.”

Danny: “Welcome to the Fenton family, baby.”

Dick: “This can’t possibly go wrong.”

Steph: “Famous last words.”

FentonWorks — Amity Park

The Batkids stepped out of the Fenton RV, staring up at the lime green, Frankenstein’d-together house with a giant ectoplasmic turret on top.

Tim whispered, “That building violates every safety code I’ve ever studied.”

“Which means it’s perfect,” Jason grinned.

The front door burst open.

“DANNY-BOY!” Jack Fenton roared, charging out in a hazmat suit and hugging Danny so hard he phased to avoid cracked ribs.

“And these must be your little friends!” Maddie beamed. “Are they in your ghost hunting club? Vigilante group? Paranormal protection gang?”

Jason: “...Yes.”

Inside the Lab

Danny’s siblings (by chaos, not blood) stood in awe-slash-terror as Jack proudly showed off the Fenton Arsenal™.

“We’ve got Ecto-Blasters, Specter Snare Cannons, the Ghost Gabber 9000—”

“That one doesn’t do anything,” Danny stage-whispered. “It just yells ghost puns.”

“—and of course, my favorite,” Jack said, hefting a glowing, bazooka-sized monstrosity, “The Fenton Anti-Creep Stick™!”

“Can I hold it?” Jason asked immediately.

Danny: “You really, really shouldn’t—”

Jack: “You absolutely can!”

Danny: “—oh god.”

Jason grinned like a kid in a candy store as he hoisted the Anti-Creep Stick and blew a crater in the backyard. “I LOVE YOUR DAD.”

Gift Time

“So!” Maddie chirped. “We made each of you a custom ghost-defense item!”

Danny: “...Please be small.”

They were not.

Jason got a pair of twin ecto-revolvers — glowing green, sleek, with ghost-seeking tech embedded in the handles. He was in love.

Tim got a pocket-sized spectral scanner that unfolded into a full laptop. (“It hacks through dimensions,” Maddie said proudly. Tim nearly cried.)

Damian was gifted a miniaturized spectral scimitar. Jack added, “It sings your theme song when it powers up!” Damian smiled — a terrifying, sharp little smile.

Steph got an ectoplasm glitter bomb launcher. She immediately set it off in the kitchen. Maddie was delighted.

Dick received ecto-infused grappling hooks that let him swing through walls. He hugged both parents on the spot.

Later That Night

The Batkids lounged on beanbags in Danny’s room, covered in marshmallow goo from Fenton family s’mores night.

Steph: “Your mom tackled a ghost into the barbecue pit.”

Tim: “Your dad gave me a hug that cracked my ribs.”

Jason (stroking his new guns lovingly): “I’m moving in.”

Danny: “You’ll regret that at 3AM when the fridge starts screaming.”

Damian: “Your father attempted to high-five me. I allowed it. Once.”

Danny snorted. “He’s gonna cry from happiness later.”

Meanwhile, in the Fenton Kitchen

Maddie sipped her tea. “They’re good kids.”

Jack nodded, eyes misty. “Do you think if we adopt them too, we can finally start that Ghost Hero Team I always wanted?”

Maddie smiled. “Let’s give them snacks first.”

Group Chat: [Batfam + Phantom of the Groupchat]

Jason: Can I call your dad Pops?

Danny: ...I literally do not have the power to stop you.

Steph: i want to go back next weekend. ghost dodgeball rematch.

Damian: I defeated the kitchen specter with honor. Fenton called it a “heckin’ good whack.”

Tim: I still don’t know how the toaster is haunted.

Dick: Best parents. A+++ would let them arm me again.

Danny: they’re already building a tank for you.

Bruce: WHAT DO YOU MEAN "A TANK"

Danny: Too late B. You’re a Fenton by association now 😎

Imagine for whatever reason Danny gets turned into a cat (black with white boots and white with black boots when changing to ghost form, I imagine him as a fluffy long hair cat) and he’s in Gotham just running around and doing whatever. Only he’s not alone, no no, Cujo is here with him.

So imagine cat Danny, walking through an alley, followed by little Cujo happily wagging his tail. Just this black cat that looks high maintenance and a glowing green puppy following it.

They look like they have places to be, important places.

it spring :)

DPxDC Old Friends

Dick rings the doorbell.

Tim has no idea why they are here. The house his brother is trying to invite himself in looks nice, almost eerily so: walls painted in warm beige, windows so clean they sparkle, a perfectly manicured lawn, and flower beds and bushes without a single bad leaf, neatly cut and shaped to the point where they look like a Pinterest picture. The whole place looks like a photoshopped flyer of American Dream.

Which is exactly why it sets Tim on edge. No one can live their life so perfect.

Maybe it's just his broken arm and concussed head speaking, though. The throbbing pain tends to make him grouchy and distrustful.

Another minute passes in silence.

Dick raises his hand once more, but, just as he is about to press the doorbell again, the door opens. A tall, thin redhead girl with bright freckles sprinkled over her cheeks peeks out, a nice, if slightly awkward smile on her face. Only, as soon as she sees Dick, the smile drops like it was never there, and the girl starts closing the door back, evidently intent on slamming it in their faces.

Dick hastily puts his foot in, preventing it from closing.

"Hey, Jasmine, really sorry to bother-"

"Go to fucking hell," the redhead spits out, looking like she is two seconds away from violence. Tim must say, that reaction actually makes him feel a bit better about the whole situation. Turns out, not everything is picture perfect here, what a relief.

"Who's there?" Comes a voice from somewhere inside the house. Male, from the sound of it, so, maybe a husband?

"No one!" Jasmine yells back, an annoyed hint to her tone.

"Jasmine, please," Dick pleads, not taking his eyes off the girl.

"'No one' like you need the gun, or 'no one' like you need the thermos?" A different, younger voice asks, followed by a loud snort and a bark of a dog.

"My brother is hurt," Dick adds, like it's his last resort of an argument, and Tim huffs, barely holding himself back from elbowing the man in his side. And who's fault is that?..

Yet, that makes the redhead pause. She purses her lips, briefly looks at Tim and the way he's cradling his arm. Then, she sighs, long and exasperated, and lets go of the door, allowing it to open all the way.

"'No one' like I need the medkit," she finally answers to whoever is inside the house, and steps to the side, gesturing for both Dick and Tim to come in. "Comicon alert, everyone, plant your feet on the floor!"

Danny finds out that, due to his flexibility and weightlessness of being a half-ghost, he's actually pretty good at Ballet.

First it was a few classes because of a lost dare, but then those few turned into a usual thing for him.

In fact, he got so into it that even his rogues, when they realized it was almost time for his Ballet lessons, would pause the fight and make sure he went. The young half-ghost was, in their opinion, far too tense and stressed, and if they wanted to make sure he was in top form for fighting then he needed a hobby.

Regular Ballet lessons turned into competitions.

Competitions turned into him being scouted.

And while he never, ever expected this path for himself, at the age of twenty-four he became one of the best Danseurs in the country.

He's also a registered meta, but only because when he dances he gets so into it that some of his ghostly features leak over to his appearance.

Floating white hair, eyes shifting from blue to green in the lights, slightly pointed ears; costume designers adore him.

So it's no surprise that he has his fair share of stalkers.

This is where John Constantine comes in, because someone just tried to send a very nasty curse to Danny, and they need to find out who.

Song that inspired this idea here

Henchmen for Hire

AKA "Danny is employed as one of the Rogue's henchmen and he's doing so well at being discrete, none of the Bats even know he's committing crime! (They absolutely know.)" prompt idea!!

Y'know what would make this funnier?? Is if Selina Kyle, Catwoman and hoarder of strays, immediately Work Mom'd this kid.

Imagine Danny gets dumped into Gotham by himself. Except there's, like, no ectoplasm - not nearly enough to sustain his Ghost. So, his Ghost form slowly peters out and he's left penniless and powerless on the streets of Gotham. Obviously, the next step would be to find money. But how?? He can't go invisible, intangible, or Full Ghost to help him out here. And there aren't a lot of stand-up places that hire kids younger than 13, so ultimately he's forced to apply for henchmen positions. He doesn't actually find Catwoman's ad. No, she hears through the grapevine that this actual child is applying to be a drug runner for the Penguin or - oh, shit, the Joker??

Absolutely not. Selina is no saint, but she's not going to let another kid be beaten to death by the Joker. Maybe she talks to Harley and finds out where the kid's going, or maybe she just puts in an ad and hires him on the spot. To be honest, she doesn't really expect to particularly like the kid - she'll have him pick up her coffee or something, pay him at the end of the day (standard henchmen pay periods since it's likely they won't live through the end of the week), and clear her conscience.

Except Danny is a little shit.

Danny, for his part, doesn't necessarily want to be a henchman but he figured it'd be more than getting some lady's coffee, right? He imagined an evil man twirling his extra long mustache and smoking a cigar, or mobsters hunched over a gambling table grunting about... playing cards or something, he doesn't know. Instead Danny's told to pick up Catwoman's dry-cleaning. It's almost an insult when he knows she's planning a heist that includes stealing several very expensive items from a museum during an evening showing. Without him, her only henchman!! (So what if he snooped in her office? It's not like it's ghost-proof; she should've expected Bad Behavior from the Very Bad Criminal in her house.)

Selina finds out very quickly that Danny is akin to a rambunctious kitten chewing through her phone charger cable and clawing at her favorite muslin blanket (the one Bruce gifted her from one of their dates). And she's so exasperated that she agrees he can be involved. But only as a distraction and he's told that he needs to scram once the police come because she's not bailing him out of juvie if he gets caught. (She wouldn't, but she could make Bruce do it. Her lover would take one look at Danny's watery doe eyes and cave like he's already experiencing Empty Nest Syndrome.)

So, Catwoman and her littlest henchman plan to rob the Gotham Museum. She buys him a cat-themed facemask (in case things get sticky and he needs a quick anonymous getaway) like ones from Party City, it has little ears poking out from the top and it's adorable. And then it's go time.

Danny's role is to distract the crowd by pretending to be a lost kid and distract Batman if he shows up. Selina will take care of the rest - disarming the alarms, timing the museum workers' shifts, bribing the West Entry security guard, frame-freezing the surveillance cameras, smuggling in the forgery and smuggling out the original, and - well. It'll be nice not to deal with the Big Bat if he shows up, but Selina is used to doing this on her own.

She should've expected that Danny doesn't do what's expected.

Because Danny does his part as the crying, screaming child whose mother is lost amongst the chaos once the museum's power shuts off. He distracts the guards easily. Selina hides away the art, replaces the forgery on the wall, and goes to find her little stray. And Danny is clinging hysterically to The Batman, refusing to be pried off by security guards and museum workers. He's straight up sobbing. Talking about how he loves Batman and Robin, his family is dead, he wants to be Robin, did you know you should be able to see Ursa Major from Gotham but you can't because of the smog, do you think Poison Ivy can just make a lot of trees to unpolluted the air, Nightwing is his favorite superhero, do you think he'll sign an autograph-.

It's astounding how fast that kid can speak while also smearing green snot onto Batman's cape. Danny proves himself to be even more unexpected when he goes off-script, eyeing her and screaming, "Mom!" And Batman's eyes catch hers. Shit. How can she explain a tiny child calling her mother in front of her lover? That'll be an awkward conversation.

Catwoman doesn't take Danny to outings after that. Instead, she has Harley and Ivy take turns "babysitting" (i.e., using Danny as Batfam distractions) while she's at work, kind of like having the fun aunts take you shopping. Danny can do whatever he wants!! With the exception that he needs to be wearing his cat-mask at all times, to properly conceal his identity (neither woman knows he'd already thrown himself at Batman without his mask).

So, while Ivy is destroying a toxic power plant, Danny is stealing Nightwing's escrima sticks, clinging to him, "accidentally" tripping him, doing the Koala-leg thing. He goes all out when Nightwing actually does trip on him - he shrieks that he broke his arm, which forces the vigilante to pay attention to him. Sobs, clings harder, and endures the trip to the hospital on the back of Nightwing's motorcycle with a shit-eating grin.

Harley is beating the hell out of some of Joker's gang. Red Robin is doing surveillance and coordinating with GCPD so they can get the whole circus to Arkham. Except Danny is calling out where Red Robin is hiding with the glittery pink microphone that Harley bought him (originally to sing Doja Cat and Chappell Roan in her car). Joker gang's priority will always be the Batfam because of Joker's obsession with Batman and Danny uses the distraction so Harley can get a couple good swings of her bat in. He cackles maniacally when he hears a muffled, "C'mon, kid!!" from Red Robin.

And the Batkids are just like, Jesus, this kid is literally a nightmare. But they can't do anything! Are they going do arrest a kid? No. Are they going to arrest Batman's lover? No! So, they're stuck dealing with this.... absolute gremlin of a child!!

Danny, of course, is very pleased. The Bats have no idea who he is because of his little cat-mask, he's getting paid literally several grand per week, and Selina - who he's been living with ever since she realized he was homeless - even got him goldfish!

(Bruce is in his office, eyes crinkling in that iconic Dad-Smile, scrolling through candid photos Selina snuck of Danny's chocolate-smeared face while the kid was passed out on her couch. There's a fake ID under the name of Danny Fenton and several pages of foraged school records in a pile on his desk. Bruce eyes his desk drawer where several emergency adoption papers are tucked away.)

DCxDP Fic Idea: Online Siren

Danny makes a mistake. Or maybe he struck gold. Depending on the perspective you were looking through.

It starts one night when Sam, Tucker, Danny, and Jazz get together for a private party on Tucker's birthday. Mr. and Mrs. Foley had let them have the whole house to themselves on the agreement that it would only be the four of them. They would be keeping an eye on the security camera and motion detectors around the property. At the slightest hints of Tucker having a house party, the pair would return from Mr. Foley's sister's house to shut it down.

The group of teenagers were more than happy not to invite anyone. It's not like anyone would show- at least not with good intentions. They had an entire night plan- coffee drinks based on their types, video games, boardgames ones, painting hour, karaoke, movies, and cake after presents.

They all pitched in for pizza, and Sam offered to buy everyone breakfast in the morning. The party started at four and would end at ten the following morning. The boys would sleep in Tucker's room while Sam and Jazz crashed in the guest room together.

Danny hadn't had that much fun in such a long time that he didn't even shy away from Sam's video camera while singing. The youngest Fenton has always had a fantastic singing voice, but his stage fright has stopped him from showing off his skill in front of anyone who was not close friends or family.

The following morning, while eating at Tucker's favorite breakfast restaurant, Sam checked her phone after noticing all the buzzing. Danny could catch her face turning pastly white at whatever was on her screen. She taps aggressively, nearly frantically, which gains the attention of Tucker and Jazz.

"Sam? Everything good?" Jazz asks gentely.

"I..no..I'm sorry, Danny," She whispers after staring hopelessly at her screen. "I meant to save it in our private share, not...the anonymous one."

"What?"

"I...post poetry anonymously on this voice website. It's audio recordings only." She explains, placing the phone on the table. Her voice is hesitant. "Last night....I accidentally posted the video of you singing from the Karaoke machine I saved. The one from the Realms. And some of my followers saved it and shared it. It's trending."

Danny feels his stomach drop into his legs. "What?"

"No one knows who you are!" Sam blurts as Tucker quickly pulls out his own phone. A few seconds later, Danny's voice blares out of his speaker, the melody blending well with his singing. The Karaoke has a recording option that deletes background noise, making it far more professional than four teenagers dancing around the Foley's coffee table.

"Dude, this sounds amazing," Tucker says after a moment. "I can't believe I finally have a recording of your singing. Just look at these comments!"

The song is an open domain in the Infinite Realms, telling the tell of the first King's fall. It's rather popular for its revolutionary themes and near musical lyrics that blended with the rapid flute melody, so finding a ghost willing to share a Karaoke version took nearly no effort. People online think Danny was the songwriter.

The song on Sam's page had ninty-thousand listens, with just as many downloads- each download places ten cents in her account. So far, Danny's singing has made nine thousand dollars. It's only been twelve hours!

It got so much traction because Damian Wayne had made an edit with a popular anime and posted it on his personal account. His small usage had exploded Danny's song in only a few hours.

"Take it down!" Danny hisses, slapping a hand over Tucker's screen and glancing at nearby tables. "Sam, please take your post down."

"I did! I swear! But it's too late to stop it from spreading on the WorldClip." She tells him, and Danny's heart feels like it will explode until Jazz gently speaks up.

"Sam, can Danny have those nine grand?"

His best friend blinks momently, thrown by the question before she nods, "Of course! It's his money."

"Hmm." Jazz taps her fingers under her chin before turning Danny's face towards her. It's not until her gentle pats on his back that he realizes he is hyperventilating. "You should post more on that anonymous website. Sam can write the songs, Tucker can make the music, and you can sing."

"What!?" He choked, shocked she would even ask him. Tucker and Sam are eyeing them with wide eyes, frozen in their seats. No one knew where the fear had come from, but the two knew how badly Danny reacted to the idea of performing.

Tucker first met Danny when the boy panicked in the music room. After it was announced, the students would be singing Twinkle Little Star in the first grade. It was the first time Tucker had ever called nine-one-one, too.

He was praised as a hero, while Danny was scolded for overreacting. Tucker had held his hand until the sobbing boy's parents came to pick him up and has never left his side since.

"Danny, this fear has always left you in shambles. I think it would help you. This could be a form of exposal therapy," She says, then shrugs her shoulder. "Think about it. No one will know who you are, but your music could reach thousands without you ever having to show your face. You could pay for the college you wanted to go to in Gotham this way. All of you."

Neither Danny's nor Tucker's parents could afford to send them to Gotham University despite it being their dream school. Sam's parents refused to pay for a "useless" degree such as Botany. They had been growing uneasy with the realization dreams were not always promised as the end of the senior year approached in only a few short months.

They would never ask it of him, but Danny could see the genuine hope tucked in their eyes as they waited for his response. He licked his lips, feeling his heart still beating a mile a minute under his rib cage.

He didn't like being this paralyzed by an irrational fear. He also really wanted to help them reach their dreams.

So Danny opens his mouth and whispers, "Only until we can get to Gotham to find jobs"

Jazz's smile is bright.

________________________________________________________

A few months later, Damian practically runs Tim over in his rush to connect to the game room's surround system. Jon is hot on his heels and has the decency to shout an apology as the pre-teens rush by.

"Hey! Watch it!" He still screams at their backs, irritated. "I could've dropped my croissant!"

"Sorry again Tim!"

"You're fat anyway, Drake!"

Tim rolls his eyes, adjusting his hold on his plate as Dick rounds the corner that the children had appeared from. "What's got them rushing?"

"Online Siren just dropped a new song." Dick laughs. "Dami is a bit of a fan."

"Online Siren?"

"That's right, you were in space for five months. Online Siren is this anonymous singer that everyone is going crazy over on the internet. He's an amazing singer, but because no one knows anything about him. Not even Babs."

Tim raises a brow. "He could be using autotune."

"Maybe, but Tim, I'm telling you. Listen to his music, and you'll find you can't stop. Siren is a fitting name."

"He can't be that good," Tim mutters, following his eldest brother into the game room, where Damian and Jon have blared the speakers to the loudest setting and dancing around.

Tim draws up short at the sight of Damian Wayne actually crying as he sings along to the lyrics, acting as if the singer was right there in front of him and he was a long-time fan.

Then, the music invades his ears, and Tim feels like he is ascending on a different plane. The smooth, near silk-like voice glinds into his chest, rattling his bones, and his knees shake when the man holds a soft, seductive "Oh" for a few seconds longer then necessary.

It sends shivers down his spine.

"What is this!? It's so good!" He screams at the dancing Dick, who laughs.

"I know, right!?"

"It's too good. I think this is a real siren." Tim continues, pressing his hands over his ears. His mind flashes back to the few months he spent with his team, running for a mind-controlling alien that had nearly trapped them in the third space sector. "Dick, we're in danger! Get around from the speakers! Mind control!"

Dick stops dancing with a sigh, muttering under his breath as Tim rushes to the control panel of the speaker system. As soon as he slams it off, Damian releases a screech of an angered cat and launches at him, demanding his music back. Jon flouts nervously on the side as the two youngest Waynes brothers roll on the ground, yelling insults and taking dirty shots.

"I wish I could enjoy things with my siblings without them ruining it." He mumbles, striding forward to break up the fight, only to scream when Tim pulls out pepper spray, yowling like a madman.

"Mind control! Mind control!"

"My EYES! "

"Drake, stop!"

"You'll never get me Siren! Never!"

".I'm going to go get Mr.Wayne!"

"Make haste, Jon! Bring my father to stop this baffoon-my eyes! Drake, you bastard!"

DC x DP Prompt - Cousin John

Sam's parents inform her that her cousin is coming to visit from London. Sam is bracing herself for another uptight rich asshole with more money than sense.

John Constantine is *not* prepared for visiting his father's family in America.

(disclaimer i know NOTHING about John's backstory/family so pls adjust as you see fit)

DP X Marvel #24

When Danny Fenton got into MIT, he thought the biggest challenge would be balancing ghost hunting with college coursework. What he didn’t expect was to impress Dr. Jane Freaking Foster—renowned astrophysicist, literal genius, the mind behind the Foster Theory, and, unbeknownst to her, his idol since age thirteen—during a campus science expo when he presented his thesis on interdimensional ectoplasmic lattice fluctuations as a potential fuel source for wormhole stabilization. He thought she’d walk by his booth with a polite smile. Instead, she paused, squinted at his equations, asked three rapid-fire questions, then turned to the MIT faculty and said, “Is this kid legally allowed to work in a government lab yet?”

That’s how he became her apprentice.

Danny thought it would be, you know, an internship. Fetch coffee, carry papers, maybe input data if he got lucky. What he didn’t expect was to be living in New Mexico three months later, standing on a roof beside Jane Foster while she casually pointed at the sky and said, “If this gravitational anomaly maintains its trajectory, we’ll have a Yggdrasil branch brush up against the heliopause by Tuesday. That’s new.”

Danny nodded, mostly pretending he understood.

What neither of them anticipated was Thor crashing into their lives again like a golden retriever with a god complex and a hammer. He landed dramatically during a research presentation, lightning still fizzing off his cape, and made such eye contact with Jane that the projector screen behind them shorted out.

And then he saw Danny.

“Young one!” Thor bellowed, eyes wide, blond hair tousled by divine winds, “You must be her son.”

Danny blinked. “I—what?”

“Of course!” Thor clasped his shoulder. “You have her radiant intellect and tenacity. Truly, you are worthy of Midgard’s finest mother.”

“I—she’s not—” Danny tried.

Thor turned to Jane, face alight. “You did not tell me you had borne a child! And one so strong in spirit! A scholar of the stars!”

Jane rubbed her temples. “Thor. He’s nineteen. I met him last month. He’s my apprentice. He is not my son.”

Thor shook his head gravely. “Say no more, Jane. I understand. You wished to protect him from the dangers of our past. But I vow upon Mjolnir’s handle, I shall be a father to him.”

“What the hell,” Danny muttered.

Over the next few days, things escalated fast.

Danny woke up one morning to find a goat outside the lab. A live goat. Wearing a ribbon. The tag read: For my brave son, may his mornings be strong of milk and noble of beard. Jane nearly choked on her cereal. Darcy screamed and immediately named the goat “Spacey.”

Thor showed up during Danny’s lecture on cosmic radiation and brought a sack of Asgardian textbooks written in glowing runes, which promptly caused two lab interns to faint and one professor to file a complaint.

Danny begged Jane to tell him this would stop.

“No,” Jane said, sipping her coffee without looking up. “You’re his emotional support stepson now.”

“I don’t want to be anyone’s emotional support anything!” Danny cried. “I have ectoplasmic trauma and insomnia!”

But Thor persisted.

He invited Danny to spar in the desert, claiming it would “toughen his warrior instincts.” Danny blasted a crater in the sand when a ghost startled him mid-match, and Thor wept with pride. “Such fire! Truly, a son worthy of thunder.”

Jane sighed. “You’re going to give him a complex.”

“I already have a complex!” Danny yelled from where he was half-buried in sand.

Then came the night Thor pulled Danny aside with intense solemnity.

“Daniel,” he said, kneeling, “I seek your blessing.”

Danny froze, halfway through a sandwich. “I—what—blessing for what?”

“To court your mother.”

“She’s NOT my—!”

Thor raised a hand. “Please. I know you wish to protect her. But my heart is true. I have spent long hours learning Midgardian courtship. Observe.”

He pulled out a guitar. A guitar. From nowhere. And began strumming aggressively while singing off-key.

“Oh Jane, fairest in the stars, your eyes burn like a neutron quasaaaaaar—”

Danny screamed into his sandwich.

Jane screamed into her coffee.

Darcy recorded the entire thing.

By the time the Avengers got wind of what was happening, it was too late. Tony Stark showed up purely out of pettiness.

“So this is the ‘son,’ huh?” he said, looking Danny up and down like he was a new model of iPhone. “You do look like Jane. Same ‘don’t talk to me before coffee’ vibe. But with a sprinkle of sleep-deprived raccoon.”

Danny glared. “You must be the one Jane threatens to launch into orbit when she’s annoyed.”

“See? Family resemblance,” Tony muttered.

Then Steve Rogers took Thor aside and whispered, “Are you sure he’s her kid? Jane would’ve told us if she had a child.”

Thor nodded gravely. “It is the only explanation. He speaks with passion, has knowledge of the stars, and I saw him summon green fire from his hands!”

“It was a ghost, Thor,” Danny shouted from across the lab. “It was literally a ghost trying to possess a vending machine!”

“Exactly!” Thor beamed.

“Thor. I’m nineteen. Jane is thirty-seven.”

“She is a goddess among mortals. Perhaps she birthed you when she was five.”

“That’s not how—YOU KNOW WHAT, NEVER MIND.”

Soon, even Loki showed up, slinking into the lab with a smirk like a serpent in silk.

“I had to see for myself,” he purred, circling Danny like a shark. “The mortal child who ensnared my brother’s affections.”

Danny just blinked. “I’m not his kid. Or Jane’s. I’m not even sure I’m awake right now.”

Loki chuckled. “You’ll make an excellent prince. Do you have any interest in necromancy?”

“I’m a ghost half the time,” Danny deadpanned. “Define interest.”

Loki grinned wider.

Eventually, S.H.I.E.L.D. got involved. Fury showed up, took one look at the scene—the goat eating research notes, Thor trying to build Danny a golden throne, Jane yelling about radiation levels, and Danny levitating out of sheer stress—and muttered, “Nope,” before turning around and leaving.

But beneath all the chaos, Danny… didn’t hate it.

Jane never treated him like a kid. She taught him everything, from solar flares to Bifrost trajectories. She let him make mistakes, then helped him fix them. She told him he was brilliant, and for once, he kind of believed it. And Thor, for all his thunderous confusion, brought him starfruit from Alfheim and carved him a wooden Mjolnir as a “coming-of-age” gift.

Danny didn’t even mind the goat anymore.

He still insisted, every day, that Jane was not his mom.

But when Thor presented him with a massive, hand-forged broadsword inscribed with: To my noble son, may your ghosts be vanquished and your GPA ever high, he kind of teared up.

A little.

One evening, as they watched the stars from the roof, Jane handed Danny a cup of tea.

“He really does think you’re my kid,” she said.

Danny took a sip. “Yeah. I gave up trying to convince him.”

“Is it weird?”

“Kinda. But… not bad.” He hesitated. “Do you… mind?”

Jane looked at him, surprised. “No. I mean—you’re not. But if you were, I’d be proud.”

Danny stared at the stars until they blurred.

Later, Thor appeared beside them, cape fluttering dramatically despite the lack of wind.

“I have returned with tales of valor,” he declared, “and also cheesecake.”

Danny took the box.

“Son!” Thor beamed.

Danny sighed.

“Fine. You can have my blessing.”

Thor dropped Mjolnir in joy.

Jane looked horrified. “Danny, what the hell?!”

“I didn’t say I wanted it to happen,” Danny muttered. “I just figured he’d stop bringing me swords if I gave in.”

“He won’t,” she said flatly.

He didn’t.

The next morning, Danny woke up to find a full set of Asgardian armor beside his bed and a note that read: For my beloved heir. P.S. I have begun planning the wedding. Do you think your mother would prefer swans or flaming eels as decoration?

He screamed into his pillow.

The goat screamed with him.

Tim Drake: Parent by Circumstance, Dad by Choice

Tim had met Dani and Dan months into dating Danny, when they were already deep enough in their relationship that meeting Danny’s… kids (wards? clones? complicated existential crises?) felt like a natural progression.

They were, for all intents and purposes, Danny’s, no matter how strange their origins were.

And Tim?

Tim adored them.

Dani had taken to him immediately. She was smart, resourceful, and had the kind of cunning that made Tim terrified for when she grew up. She was all wild energy and big grins, full of trouble and ready to recruit Tim into it. Which, well—he was a Bat. He might not have the same mischief-making instincts as her, but he knew how to scheme.

Danny had sighed the first time he caught them conspiring, giving Tim a deeply exasperated look as Dani snickered behind his back.

“You’re supposed to be the responsible one,” Danny grumbled, arms crossed.

Tim had only blinked at him. “Why would you assume that?”

Dan, on the other hand, was rougher, quieter. More hesitant in a way that made something in Tim’s chest ache. He was wary at first, slow to warm up to Tim in a way Dani wasn’t—but Tim understood. Dan had sharp edges, but Tim had spent enough time around Jason to know that just meant he needed patience.

Which was fine, because Tim had plenty of it.

Besides, it helped that they liked him. Dani loved that he didn’t snitch when she roped him into pulling pranks on Danny, giggling wildly when they switched out the sugar for salt and watched Danny spit out his morning coffee with distaste.

So he didn’t push. He let Dan take his time, let him get used to having Tim around. The turning point had been, funnily enough, when Dan asked Tim to teach him how to fight.

Danny had sighed about that, too, shooting Tim a pointed look that was probably supposed to convey Do not encourage him.

Tim had ignored it.

Because what was he supposed to do? Say no?

He wanted Dan to know how to fight. To know how to protect himself properly. It wasn’t like he was teaching the kid how to snap someone’s neck—he was teaching him good habits. Controlled movements. Defense. Dan needed that, and Tim was happy to provide it.

Danny could roll his eyes all he wanted, but he wasn’t stopping Tim.

Dan, predictably, thought Tim was the best after that—well, second best. Jason had somehow stolen first place. Tim wasn’t even mad about it. Dan would sit next to Jason with wide, fascinated eyes, soaking up his stories and nodding along to every dramatic retelling of a fight. (“And then I threw the guy through the car door—” “Did he live?” “Unfortunately.”)

Tim was fine with being second place. Really.

—

Tim had almost been caught with the ring twice.

The first time, Dani had nearly found it when she tackled him over the couch, scrambling over him with zero regard for personal space. If he hadn’t been fast in twisting out of her grip, the box would’ve gone flying across the room.

The second time, Dan had almost seen it when Tim went digging through his duffel. The box had nearly slipped into view when he yanked out a hoodie, and Tim had barely managed to shove it under his gear before Dan could get a good look.

But the third time?

Dani found it.

Because of course she did.

Tim had been distracted—exhausted from patrol, too caught up in the warmth of Danny’s hands pulling him in by the waist. He’d tossed his jacket onto the couch, thinking nothing of it.

Dani had been snooping.

He didn’t even realize until later. She didn’t say anything. She just gave him a look—one that was far too knowing for someone her age—but she didn’t mention it. She just tucked the ring back where she found it and let the subject drop.

For now.

But later, when the house was quiet and everyone else had gone to bed, she sat beside him on the couch, feet tucked under her, eyes flickering to him with something unreadable.

Then, in a casual voice, she asked, “Hey… can I call you Dad?”

Tim froze.

His breath caught, and something in his chest lurched.

He turned to her, eyes wide, trying to process what she just said—what she just asked—but before he could even begin to figure out how to respond, Dan, from where he was leaning against the arm of the couch, just shrugged.

“Yeah,” he muttered, gaze a little too pointedly not on Tim. “You’ve earned it, I guess.”

And Tim—Tim had to swallow past the sudden tightness in his throat, had to blink fast against the prickling behind his eyes. He cleared his throat, voice rough as he said, “Yeah. I think I’d like that.”

Dani grinned, throwing herself at him without hesitation. Tim huffed as he caught her, laughing as she clung to him like she was sure he wouldn’t let go.

Dan rolled his eyes. But his lips curled up, just slightly.

Tim had never been happier.