Danny is Sent to a Foster Home
So! Unfortunately, Danny’s parents finally went too far on one of their “ghost hunts.”
They’d decided to expand their range outside Amity Park (because, and I quote, “we can’t let ghosts think they can hide in other dimensions!”) and somehow ended up in Gotham of all places.
Cue Jack and Maddie Fenton mistaking actual superheroes for ghosts.
They apparently shot a spectral net at Nightwing, screamed something about “evil wraith energy readings,” and then managed to bazooka Red Hood’s motorcycle.
(He did not take it well.)
Anyway, they were arrested and legally classified as “supervillains.” Which, honestly, could’ve happened years ago, but sure—better late than never.
This, of course, meant Danny and Jazz got scooped up by child services while their house was investigated by the Justice League. (The Portal to Hell in their basement probably didn’t help their parents’ defense.)
At first, they tried separating the siblings.
That lasted exactly three days before Jazz broke out of her foster home, stole a bus pass, and found Danny sleeping behind a movie theater.
Then the system tried putting them in a foster home specifically for the kids of supervillains. Which would’ve been fine, except the parents kept trying to break into the house to get their kids back. Weekly.
Jazz made the executive decision to request a transfer. (She still texts the other kids, though. They have a group chat named “Villain Kids Anonymous.”)
Eventually, they landed in Fawcett City.
The Vasquez family seemed… normal. Warm. Loud. Their house smelled like cinnamon and laundry detergent, and the chaos was familiar in a way that didn’t hurt.
Danny didn’t hate it. Jazz even smiled again sometimes.
They’d been there for a few months when the Vasquezes brought home another foster kid—quiet, wiry, polite to a fault. His name was Billy.
Danny didn’t think much of it until one day, Billy came home smelling like ozone and thunder and divine energy.
Danny, whose ghost senses were screaming bloody murder, nearly threw himself through a wall.
Billy blinked at him like nothing was wrong.
“Uh… bad day at school?”
Danny: “Bad weather day at school, maybe.”
Billy: “...You can smell lightning?”
Danny: “Buddy, I can taste it.”
The other kids were weirdly chill about the new arrivals. They’d heard about the Fenton situation—some whispered stuff about “former villain kids.” But they were kind enough not to pry.
Freddy, on the other hand, was obsessed.
“You’ve met Batman?” he asked Danny once.
“Yeah,” Danny said, sipping his ecto-latte. “He was fine. Martian Manhunter was cooler.”
Freddy, dramatically: “HERESY.”
Meanwhile, Jazz eventually learned what the Wizard did to Billy.
A ten-year-old boy. Given the powers of gods. Then abandoned.
She immediately went into full big-sister mode.
“If I ever meet that cryptic old man,” she muttered, “I am sending him to therapy. Permanent therapy.”
Danny: “Pretty sure he’s dead.”
Jazz: “Then I’ll haunt him.”
And honestly? It’s working out.
The Vasquez house might be crowded, but Danny doesn’t mind it. Billy doesn’t either. They’ve both seen too much weirdness to be fazed by the other’s secrets.
A ghost boy and a lightning godling, sharing chores, doing homework, and occasionally blasting interdimensional entities off the front porch.
Normal foster sibling stuff.
