#superherocrossover

(or: Young Justice accidentally becomes staff at a cosmic nap-time daycare)

So. Fun fact no one warned Danny about when he became half-ghost: He can stay awake for ages—literally, weeks or months with zero sleep. But when the tired hits?

He drops into a supernatural coma for 1,000–3,000 years.

Yes. Years. Clockwork confirmed it. Ran the math. Cackled. It was a whole thing.

The cause? Well… Danny once slammed the Time Medallion directly into his core. (Long story, lots of screaming, very “bad decisions speedrun.”)

His still-developing core went, “Oooh shiny snack” and absorbed the temporal energy. Now his ice core is part-time Time God.

Side Effects:

• Danny is basically immune to time shenanigans • His powers turbo-charged • His body now needs Ancient-Eldritch Reset Cycles

But Danny? He’s stubborn. He refuses to “sleep through” multiple human civilizations. So he and Clockwork jury-rig a solution:

Clockwork shoves him into a dimension with funky time physics. Danny gets a cozy apocalypse-proof bunker filled with eternal pillows, enchanted blankets, the whole sleep-paralysis-chic aesthetic.

And they… hire Pariah Dark’s Skeleton Legion as caretakers.

Surprisingly excellent at the job. They dust. They tidy. They protect. They set out snacks. It’s all very “undead butler” vibes.

Unfortunately… the locals eventually stumble upon the sacred nap chamber.

Instant cult formation. They cut a hole into the ceiling to drop offerings. The Skeleton Legion allows it because the offerings help with upkeep. Everyone’s happy.

Until the cult decides to chuck Bart Allen down the hole.

Right onto Danny’s bed.

Supposed sacrifice. Also an attempt at a living alarm clock.

When Wally shows up to rescue Bart, he finds:

Danny—deep in cosmic hibernation—clutching Bart like a comfort plushie And the Skeleton Legion attempting to gently, reverently, pry Bart free.

Wally: “…Uh??”

Bart: “I think they’re trying not to distress the Cuddle Deity???”

Wally: “Just phase out.”

Bart: “What if he wakes up and IMPRINTS?? I need a SUBSTITUTE SNUGGLE ITEM.”

Cue Wally zip-running across continents to gather armloads of giant plushies. Danny rejects every single one.

Meanwhile, Bart’s having a shockingly nice time: The Skeletons feed him like a beloved house cat. The cult dropped video games. The bed is one of the softest surfaces known to mortals.

He texts Young Justice for backup.

That’s when everything spirals.

The team vows to find a stuffed animal worthy of replacing Bart. They fail. Catastrophically.

Eventually, they institute the Cuddle Rotation: Each member takes turns being Danny’s designated snuggle-stand-in.

They bring a TV. Weights. Homework. Half-built gadgets. Snacks that should not be legally classified as food.

Danny’s sacred nap chamber becomes Young Justice’s unofficial off-world hideout.

And then one morning… Danny just gets up.

No holy light. No cosmic chanting. Just a very grumpy, very bed-headed eldritch teen shuffling toward the smell of coffee.

The YJ member on cuddle-duty is passed out beside him. Danny carefully detaches himself, pads into the makeshift kitchen, and is handed a mug before anyone processes events.

They chat for like ten minutes.

Then someone freezes mid-sentence.

“WAIT— You’re awake?! You’re NOT supposed to be conscious!”

Danny, deadpan, sipping coffee: “Why is my bedroom a teenage superhero crash pad?”

Young Justice: “OKAY BUT IN OUR DEFENSE—”

Specter had just been invited to join Young Titans, the League’s junior division. When they asked about his living situation, he casually mentioned having a human guardian who looked after him.

That raised some alarms. Batman wasn’t new to young heroes pretending to have stable homes—they’d seen it before. So he demanded proof.

Specter didn’t even hesitate. “My guardian won’t mind,” he said. “He’s cool with it. You can meet him if you want.”

And that’s how the League ended up meeting Elias Vane, a 26-year-old scientist just starting his professional career.

According to Specter, Elias was “kind of” family—a descendant of his brother from before he died. The phrasing made everyone pause.

See, Specter’s ghost form doesn’t age. He looks 14. Feels 14. Acts 14. But he doesn’t need a guardian.

Because Elias—the human version of him—has aged perfectly fine. He lives a normal life, works a normal job… and sometimes, when the city needs saving, he becomes the boy in white.

But explaining that? Yeah, no one would believe it.

So he made life simpler: Specter is the ghost hero. Elias is his human “guardian.”

He even uses duplication to sell the illusion—one body at work, one patrolling the streets. The human copy stays grown, the ghost copy stays 14, and somehow, it just works.

Now, whenever Specter gets in over his head with hero stuff, he just shrugs and says:

“Umm… ask Elias. He knows more about that ghost science stuff.”

“But you’re the ghost!” “Yeah, and I still don’t get how any of this works.”

He laughs. They laugh. And the secret lives another day.

But somewhere deep down, Elias still struggles with it— with knowing that one version of him will never grow up.

And one day, when he finally dies… Specter will still be 14.

Forever.