#ghostboyproblems

Danny has recently discovered an unfortunate side-effect of becoming half-ghost: he can stay awake for weeks… sometimes months… but when the exhaustion finally hits?

He has to sleep for one to three thousand years.

No exaggeration. That’s the actual number.

Clockwork and Danny eventually figure out why. See, Danny once shoved the Time Amulet directly into his core (long story, very “teen hero makes choices”). His core—still growing—decided it was a snack, and started absorbing its power. His main core is still ice, but now it’s also merging with temporal energy.

Results: • Danny becomes basically immune to most time weirdness • His core gets a huge upgrade • His body needs absurdly long ghost-form rest cycles or he destabilizes

And Danny, being a family-oriented menace, refuses to lose centuries every time he goes down for a nap. So he and Clockwork come up with a workaround.

Whenever Danny is due for his big Sleep™, Clockwork sends him to a dimension where time runs differently. Danny gets a hidden bunker made of timeless materials—pillows, blankets, everything enchanted to never rot.

Also? They repurpose some of Pariah Dark’s Skeleton Army as caretakers. They tidy him, clean the bedding, set out snacks for when he stirs, and defend the room. Very respectful undead valets.

Unfortunately… the locals of that dimension eventually find the chamber.

They immediately start a cult.

They carve a hole in the ceiling to drop offerings down. The Skeleton Army allows it because the offerings include food and comfort items (“offerings” = “caretaking supplies”). All is peaceful.

Until the cult throws Bart Allen down the hole.

Directly onto Danny’s bed.

Intended as both a sacrifice and a living alarm clock.

When Wally finally arrives (ready to scoop Bart up and yeet them both to safety), he finds the Skeleton Army trying—very gently—to pry Bart out of Danny’s arms.

Danny, deep in his thousand-year coma, has adopted Bart like a teddy bear.

Wally: “…Uh.”

Bart, whispering: “I think they’re trying to save me? I guess the god cuddles?”

Wally: “Why don’t you just phase out?”

Bart: “What if I wake him up and he comes looking for me?! We need a replacement snuggle item!”

Cue Wally, sprinting around the world, bringing back armfuls of giant stuffed animals. None of which Danny accepts.

Bart, meanwhile, is having a surprisingly decent time. The Skeleton Army feeds him. The cult tossed video games down the hole. The bed is Top 10 Comfiest Surfaces In Known Reality.

He texts the Young Justice group chat.

And that’s when the chaos truly begins.

Young Justice decides that they will find a stuffed animal worthy of replacing Bart. They fail. Repeatedly.

Eventually they create a rotation system.

One member at a time becomes the Official Cuddle Substitute while Danny hibernates. They bring in a TV. Training equipment. Half-finished inventions. Snacks.

Danny’s sleeping chamber becomes an unofficial Young Justice hideout.

And then, one day, Danny wakes up.

Not dramatically. Not godlike.

Just… gets up.

The member on cuddle-duty is actually asleep, curled against him. Danny slips out carefully, follows the smell of coffee to the makeshift kitchen, and shuffles in like a grim reaper who hasn’t had his morning brew yet.

He gets handed a mug.

They chat.

It takes TEN FULL MINUTES before anyone realizes:

“OH WAIT. You’re… awake?? You’re NOT supposed to be awake—?

Danny: “Why is my bedroom a teen superhero clubhouse?”

Young Justice: “Okay but listen—

Turns out, hauntings aren’t about ghosts who can’t move on. They’re about people who can’t let go.

So when Danny died in front of Batman — and then got better, as he tends to — it should’ve been fine. Except… Batman didn’t take it well.

Now Danny’s stuck haunting the guy. Literally. Invisible. Intangible. Unable to leave Gotham’s broodiest cryptid.

He’s tried to tell them he’s fine — really, truly, not-dead! But his powers are all messed up from the emotional feedback loop of being forcibly tethered to one of the most repressed men alive.

He’s seen things. Family drama. Patrol arguments. Tim’s caffeine habits. Bruce’s nightmares. At this point, Danny knows more about the Waynes than the IRS.

And since Batman won’t let him go, Danny’s only option is to haunt Bruce Wayne into therapy.

Which would be easier if Justice League Dark would stop trying to exorcise him every other week.