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The moon’s not white! It’s concrete-gray! It only looks so shiny when compared to the void of space!

Clark: I have actually. Flipped the bird, that is.

Hal: Bullshit

Clark, thinking about spotting for Dick doing a backhand spring: I have.

Chief Frostbite had believed becoming the Great One’s healer would be simple.

The young halfa was powerful. He’d defeated Pariah Dark. Surely that meant fewer injuries, not more.

He was wrong.

So very wrong.

Danny showed up constantly — cracked ribs, burned ecto-scars, dislocated shoulders, concussions, half-healed stab wounds from experimental ghost weapons, once a chunk of rebar still embedded through his side like a decorative accessory.

Frostbite could heal ghosts.

Ghosts.

Not living, breathing, breakable human teenagers who inconveniently possessed organs.

By the Ancients, the boy had organs.

He didn’t even know what half of them did.

When Danny came in wheezing and clutching his abdomen after a hunt gone sideways and Frostbite realized he had no idea where a human spleen went, he finally admitted defeat.

He called for help.

A consult.

The Ghost Zone answered with Thomas and Martha Wayne.

Recently deceased. Human doctors. A surgeon and a nurse who had been hovering over Gotham ever since death, watching their son wage war on crime with no idea they were there.

When Frostbite offered them a village, protection, and a chance to help a hero?

They didn’t hesitate.

The next time Danny arrived with a compound fracture poking cheerfully through his leg and ectoplasm dripping off his jacket, Thomas cracked his knuckles like it was another day at the hospital.

“Alright, son,” Thomas said warmly. “Let’s get you fixed up.”

Thirty minutes later Danny was patched, splinted, and stabilized better than Frostbite had ever managed.

“Kid,” Thomas laughed, “you get into trouble like a professional hero.”

Danny grinned weakly. “Kinda my job.”

“Reminds me of my son.”

“Oh?” Danny asked. “What does he do?”

Thomas smiled proudly.

“He’s Batman.”

Danny immediately started coughing so hard ectoplasm sprayed across the floor.

Martha calmly handed him a towel. “That happens every time someone says it out loud,” she said.

From that day on, the Waynes refused to leave.

They brought snacks. Made Danny rest. Hovered like anxious parents whenever he so much as winced.

Eventually Martha tucked a blanket around him after a healing session.

“You’re far too skinny,” she muttered.

Thomas nodded gravely. “We’ll fix that.”

And just like that.

Danny had ghost parents.

Again.

Weeks later, Batman nearly had a heart attack when a glowing teenager appeared in the Batcave.

“Uh,” Danny said cheerfully, “hi! You’re Batman, right? Cool. Quick question.”

Batman slowly raised a batarang.

Danny continued:

“What should we get our mom for Mother’s Day?”

So, there's some DP fanon about the Fenton/Nightingale bloodline being blessed/cursed by their historical ties to the supernatural (whether that's as witches or witch hunters).

In DC, the Laughing Magician is a bloodline title, and Constantines have either amazing luck or terrible luck. Also, a history of magic users.

What if the Fenton/Nightingales are an offshoot of the Constantines? They started in England as a magically gifted bloodline, which evolved into the Nightingale witches and the Fenton hunters when they reached America.

Equally blessed and cursed, all three bloodlines are susceptible and receptive to otherworldly influence.

Jack Fenton can see ghosts no one else can, which leads him to his career as a ghost hunter and creator of anti-ghost weaponry. He saw something that scared him, something he couldn't touch but could still hurt him, and he invested his life in making himself safe from his personal tormentors.

John Constantine can reach for magic easily, naturally, reflexively. He can instinctually understand summoning circles, he understands demon psychology and learns to manipulate it to his own ends, he summons flames to light his cigarettes because it's easier than finding a lighter. John saw the same monsters Jack did, but he learnt not to fight them, but to manipulate and use them.

The Fenton children carry these traits too. Jazz struggles with normal weaponry, but if someone trained her in magic, she'd be a natural. She has the potential to be a second John Constantine, naturally understanding the psychology of otherworldly entities. If she had more training and less strict morals, she could easily manipulate her way into some very favourable contracts.

Danny, on the other hand, has inherited adaptability and raw power. He doesn't need to analyse his opponent, he can see them in action and steal their moves and return the fire a hundredfold. Danny has learned some skill and refinement, but his ability to adapt is his real strength. He can weaponise anything like his dad, and he can strike precisely like his mum. Also, his luck fluctuates like a Constantine's.

Jazz is a hidden blade and silver tongue, Danny is a nuke.