Danny Would Be Such A Little Shit When His Baby Heroes Attempt To Confront Him On It Too. He'd Only Tell

Daniel Jones and the Lost Artifact

dcxdp fic idea

Danny was running errands. It was his own fault really. He had made the decree keeping Ghosts in the Zone or Amity. He was the one that forbade them going anywhere else-least they cross paths with Hero or villain or Vigilante and get ~ideas~.

Just because it was the preferred option didn't mean he had to like it.

But who else would he send? Box Ghost? Skulker? no thank you.

Regardless, Ghosts were forbidden from going into the living world. But that didn't extend to their possessions and artifacts.

And fuck did the Ghost Zone accumulate a lot of shit over time.

Which even if only .01% of it found its way to Earth-that was still a lot of stuff.

Like Pandora's tablet. A ghost memo of the last day of Pompeii.

It had fallen through a natural portal and was somewhere on Earth.

Thankfully ghost artifacts were drawn to their 'living' counterparts. Which narrowed down the search-though, as Danny was learning- that definition could be incredibly broad, especially when their living counterpart was lost to time or a concept. (sometimes it was a living descendant of the original owner. sometimes it was a Costco at 3am, sometimes it was a random kindergartener who really vibed with clay figurines)

Danny had already ruled out Pompeii and the British History museum (a place he'd rescued to many artifacts from already)

Which left the Smithsonian in D.C next on his list (he was following Percy Jackson logic here ok? D.C was the 21st centuries Rome, so it made some kind of sense that the Tablet would be here. No, this wasn't just an excuse to see the Air and Space Museum Sam. Fuck off).

He'd been doing this long enough that he even had an Indiana Jones esk identity that allowed him access to archives and special collections around the world (he replaced the ghostifact with a living copy where possible or staged a robbery where not) (he had written so many papers for this cover)(it was unbearable).

So it was a matter of an email to get himself an open invite to the Natural History Museums subfloors. and then just flashing his ID once he was there to get in, he'd been there enough over the years that it was more of a formality than anything else, but he understood the caution and never complained. Just followed security down the elevator and down a few hallways until he found the right department and waved them off.

He meets up with his contact, a Diana Prince, and they start exchanging pleasantries and what not. Danny walks by someone working on a translation of what they thought was a variation of The Odyssey but were having trouble making sense of whatever regional dialect it had been transcribed in. Danny looks over their shoulder out of curiosity and starts live translating the piece. Turns out it was a self insert version written by a school aged child. And they were having trouble reading it because of the usage of slang and spelling mistakes.

Danny's easy translation piques Diana's interest, for even she had had difficulty reading the artifact and it was written in her first language! While she's not as paranoid as a certain other member of the Justice League, she wouldn't have survived this long if she didn't do basic checking up on people. And maybe he really was just a professor from the midwest, maybe he was a god testing her, maybe he was also someone from the old world, stuck here, out of place and out of time.

Which is why his particular interest in their newly discovered artifacts had her accompanying him long after she would typically have left him too it. Excusing herself only for a moment so as to send the man's information along to Gotham with an ask to verify his education. They would be able to get back to her far sooner than anyone else. Because the longer she was in his presence the more she noticed, and the greater her suspicions became. He was too comfortable. His often handed remarks to specific. His muttered comments belaying knowledge even a researcher of his caliber shouldn't just know. It spoke of an intimacy she hadn't felt since she first entered the world of man all those years ago. It made her ache for her sisters. For her people. For a life she would never again be able to have.

Who was Dr. Daniel Jones? (she hoped he was like her)

You, every night.

A story based on the parallels between Superman and Phantom’s secret identity and why it works so well: no one assumes they have a secret identity in the first place.

woe, winter sports teddyghost headcanons be upon ye

DP X Marvel #14

It all started with a ghost. A very loud, very neon, very annoying ghost that thought it was a great idea to haunt Stark Tower. Danny Fenton—part-time student, full-time accidental hero, and perpetually exhausted teen—was just trying to track the damn thing through the Manhattan skyline when his portal malfunctioned (again), exploded in his face (again), and slingshotted him across the sky, straight through a window that turned out to be reinforced vibranium glass.

It should’ve stopped him. It didn’t.

Cue the alarms. Cue the dozens of defense drones locking onto his energy signature. Cue a 19-year-old Danny dangling upside down in the penthouse, surrounded by billion-dollar murder bots, trying to explain to a very confused AI that he was not, in fact, an alien invader.

But before FRIDAY could blast him into oblivion, a small voice piped up from behind a couch. “Are you a fairy?”

Danny blinked. Dangling upside down. Singed suit. Ectoplasm dripping from his hair. “Uh. Sure.”

The voice belonged to a tiny, curly-haired gremlin wearing a tutu, light-up sneakers, and what looked like Tony Stark’s old Iron Man helmet—three sizes too big and twice as chaotic. This was Morgan Stark. Age: five. Chaos level: eldritch god. She approached him like a cat approaches a new toy: equal parts curiosity and threat assessment.

“Can you do sparkles?” she asked.

Danny shot a tiny beam of ecto-energy at the ceiling light, which exploded into fireworks.

Morgan gasped. “OH MY GOD, YOU ARE A FAIRY.”

And that was how Danny Fenton became Morgan Stark’s official babysitter.

It wasn’t like he volunteered. Or got paid. Or even agreed. Tony Stark had been out of the country—something about a diplomatic mess in Wakanda and a golf game with T’Challa. Pepper had begged Steve Rogers to watch Morgan, but Steve’s idea of babysitting was forcing a child to recite the Constitution. So Pepper, desperate and very, very sleep-deprived, walked into her penthouse to find a teenage boy hovering in midair while her daughter screamed “FAIRY GODBRO” at him and decided, “Yeah. Sure. This’ll do.”

“Can you keep her alive?” Pepper asked, not even blinking at the glowing green eyes.

Danny shrugged. “Uh. I guess?”

“You get dental.”

Danny had no idea what that meant but was too scared to argue.

By Day Three, he was in hell. Not the Ghost Zone. Not some apocalyptic alternate timeline. Actual hell. Or what felt like it. Morgan had no concept of mortality. She once duct-taped kitchen knives to her arms and yelled “I’M WOLVERINE NOW.” Another time, she tried to feed their Roomba peanut butter and sobbed when it wouldn’t eat.

Danny tried to keep up. He really did.

Unfortunately, he was also being hunted by an interdimensional ghost warlord named Balthazar the Undying who decided Stark Tower was a great place to stage his declaration of conquest. So in between coloring pages and singing “Let It Go” for the 57th time (because Morgan said if he didn’t, she’d tell everyone he “pees ectoplasm”), Danny was banishing ancient horrors to the Shadow Realm.

“Why does the air taste like sadness?” Morgan asked one morning, sipping chocolate milk while a spectral hand clawed its way out of the floor behind her.

Danny shot it with a laser without looking. “That’s just the trauma, kid.”

She nodded like that made sense.

By Day Five, things got weirder.

Bruce Banner came over to “assess the babysitter.” What he found was a 19-year-old ghost hybrid making chicken nuggets with one hand while performing an exorcism on a sentient blender with the other. Bruce blinked. “You’re multitasking.”

Danny, dead-eyed and covered in slime: “You’re not my real dad.”

Bruce left after Morgan bit him.

Then Peter Parker dropped by. He took one look at Danny—haggard, twitching, wearing a tiara—and whispered, “Oh my god, he is a hot mess.”

“Shut up,” Danny snapped, using his foot to hold down a haunted Roomba. “Help me tie up the possessed dolls.”

Peter did not help. He just filmed everything for TikTok. The video went viral under the title “Me when I leave a random ghost fairy babysitter with Tony Stark’s child and come back to find him summoning the underworld during snack time.”

Nick Fury saw the video and sent a S.W.O.R.D. strike team to investigate.

Morgan beat them with a plastic lightsaber.

On Day Seven, Danny woke up to find Morgan riding a flying toaster around the living room like it was a dragon.

“WHERE DID YOU GET THAT?”

“I summoned it,” she said proudly.

“HOW.”

“I made a deal with your ghost friends.”

Danny’s left eye twitched so hard he saw the Ghost Zone.

Pepper walked in on him mid-breakdown. “You’ve been great with her,” she said, sipping her coffee. “We haven’t seen her this happy since… well, ever.”

Danny, clinging to the ceiling like a feral raccoon, wheezed, “I think she opened a portal to the Necroplane. There’s a demon named Craig living in the fridge.”

Pepper patted his arm. “All babysitters say that.”

Craig opened the fridge and waved. “Sup.”

By Week Two, Danny had stopped pretending to be normal. He phased through walls, levitated toys, vaporized anything that smelled like danger, and occasionally screamed “I’M TOO YOUNG TO BE HAVING A MID-LIFE CRISIS” into the void.

Tony finally came home. He blinked at the scene: Danny napping upside down like a bat while Morgan built a nuclear reactor out of old toaster parts and a Roomba named Kevin.

“Who the hell is that?” Tony asked.

Morgan didn’t even look up. “My fairy godbrother. He banished an evil frog ghost and helped me build an orbital laser.”

Tony stared. “Huh. Alright.”

And just like that, Danny Fenton became part of the Avengers.

He didn’t sign anything. He didn’t train. He didn’t even get a uniform. But every time something exploded or a portal opened or some ancient deity said “BEHOLD MY TRUE FORM,” Danny just floated into the air, cracked his back like an old man, and said, “Not in front of the child, you drama bitch.”

Morgan, from her juice box throne: “YEET HIM INTO THE VOID, DANNY.”

And he did.

It only got worse when the other Avengers got involved.

Natasha tried to teach Morgan how to do spy stuff. Morgan used the techniques to sneak into Tony’s wine cellar and replace the labels with glitter glue and threats.

Thor visited once. Morgan asked if she could ride his hammer. He said no. She cried. The hammer floated toward her on its own. Danny had to wrestle it away.

Clint brought over a bow and arrow set. Morgan hit Peter in the ass with a suction cup dart. Danny laughed so hard he choked on ectoplasm.

Wanda stared at Danny for a full ten minutes before whispering, “You’re not from this plane.”

Danny, deadpan: “Neither is your eyeliner.”

They became friends.

One night, Danny woke up to find Morgan drawing summoning circles on the walls in glitter glue.

“Whatcha doing, champ?”

“Trying to summon a unicorn for Auntie Yelena.”

Danny blinked. “Go back to bed.”

She glared. “You don’t support women in STEM.”

By Month One, SHIELD had officially labeled Danny as a “Class 7 Unexplainable Being with Babysitting Potential.” He had a badge. He had clearance. He had no idea what was happening anymore.

All he knew was that if Morgan Stark said “Danny, I wanna adopt a ghost puppy,” then by God, he was going to march into the Ghost Zone and wrestle a spectral hellhound into a leash.

And he did.

Its name is Toast.

Danny Fenton—ghost boy, half-dead teenager, babysitter of the year—accidentally became the most powerful figure in the universe. Not because of his powers. Not because of his knowledge. Not even because of his tragic backstory.

But because Morgan Stark liked him. And if you hurt Morgan Stark, you would be introduced to Craig, the fridge demon, and Kevin, the haunted Roomba, and Toast, the ghost puppy, and then, finally, the very angry, very tired, very over-it Danny Phantom who could—and would—yeet you into another dimension for interrupting nap time.

The Avengers knew better than to interfere.

Even Thanos came back to life once, took one look at Danny and Morgan, and said, “No thanks.”

He snapped himself back out of existence.

Danny didn’t even flinch.

Morgan dabbed.

And somewhere, in the vast multiverse of chaos and consequence, Tony Stark looked at his daughter, his haunted apartment, his glowing ghost babysitter eating fruit snacks while levitating a possessed microwave, and muttered to himself—

“Yeah. That tracks.”

There’s that temper of yours again.

Danny's rogues have been spreading a little misinformation.

In their defense, it was really funny.

They've been spreading the word via Ouija boards, seances, and any other attempt to speak with the dead that Phantom is the High King of Ghosts.

Except that position doesn't really exist.

Sure, they called Pariah Dark the King of Ghosts, but that was at his own request.

The Infinite Realms are vast, with many different cultures and lands, and there are a lot of Kings. It's not a special title, honestly, it's just the title used to delegate who, in a culture, has to put up with talking to the Observants.

So they decided to get the little shit back for stopping them from playing in the Living world. They're just tryna have fun!

And destroy stuff.

But destroying stuff is fun!

As is telling a shit ton of flesh puppet idiots that Phantom, that scrawny kid, is the "High King" of the Realms.

This resulted in him constantly getting summoned to cult summonings, running him ragged and giving them, his rogues, more time to play.

But uh.

Ember is starting to think they may have fucked up.

Because babypop just broke down into a sobbing, heaving panic attack at the sight of her.

She manages to get out of him that he hasn't slept in three days.

And like.

He's half living?

He's supposed to sleep more than that?

Yeah they fucked up.

Ugh.

She's gonna have to go talk to them, isn't she?

So that's how a meeting between Justice League and Justice League Dark gets interrupted by the ghost of a rock star, with a living teenager having one of the worst panic attacks any of them have seen in awhile cradled in her arms, asking Justice League Dark to invent an amulet that prevents Summonings.

DpxDc #12

Danny pushed the cigarette between his lips, taking a long draw out of it.

What time was it? Four… five in the morning?

He exhaled, watching the smoke fill the air, relaxing with the smell of tobacco.

Everything was tinted in a blueish light, and with the sun coming out in an hour or so, he pulled his hood a little bit tighter.

The entrance of the abandoned church was the to-go meeting spot since he decided to become an informant, deciding that selling info was more profitable than a normal retail job.

Sure, he got paid on commission, but he didn’t need identification, an address, or a bank account.

He tried not to sell to criminals if he could, but sometimes it happened that the info he got wasn’t necessary to the bats, so…

He heard someone approaching, so he took a last draw from his cigarette and pressed it against the wall to put it off.

The familiar figure approached, and Danny smiled.

“Hood”

The man nodded, as they greeted each other.

“Hi Phantom, sorry for being late. Listen, I need some stuff and it’s kind of time-sensitive”

“Oh, shit man, sound serious”

“Yeah, don't tell me... I don’t know how you do it, but I heard that you know stuff about spirits and shit?”

Oh, fuck.

Danny has been in Gotham for the most part of two years, liking how there was enough ectoplasm in the air to keep him going, but not many ghosts around to annoy him every day.

If this was a ghost matter, and it was enough to worry the Red Hood, then peace was about to be broken.

“I know some stuff, what about it?”

“You do? Any chance you heard about the Infinite Realms?”

Dany shifted a bit, feeling the sudden weight of the invisible crown above his head.

“Sounds dangerous, doesn’t it? Why do you want to know about it?”

“A portal opened around here in Gotham and a fucking monster dragged my brother inside. If you know something, you have to help me. I’ll pay you”

Danny stayed silent for a bit.

On one side, he hated going in there. Too many memories, too many enemies…

But on the other side, a human was taken, and, well, at least he was going to get paid.

He inhaled deeply, taking out another cigarette.

“Sure”

Alfred felt as though it was incredibly inappropriate for a butler to accompany his young master to any sort of gala or gathering so Bruce had to get used to being by himself very quickly at a young age

Due to being left all alone when he would usually be with his parents, Bruce was put in increasingly unsafe situations over and over. Most of the time, there was no safe adult for him to feel comfortable enough telling. And if there was, how would he know they were safe?

He could tell Alfred, but what good would that do? Alfred has told him time and time again that he is his employee, nothing more and nothing less. Alfred cannot help him. Alfred cannot save him

Alfred doesn’t want to

I believe that at a very early age, due to how most of the socialites and rich people are in Gotham, Bruce had to get used to unwanted stares, touches, and advances

And he’s so pretty. He’s been so pretty ever since he was small, even with his parents alive they had to work hard to keep him safe. To keep others away. To draw a hard line in the sand for what is acceptable and what is not. But now they’re gone and he’s trying to keep himself safe. But people always want to touch, take, possess, and destroy pretty things

But all of his children are pretty too.

With all of his kids he makes sure that they’re as safe as can be, unlike how it was with him

The first time that he brings Dick to a gala, he holds the boy the entire time. Dick’s face is mostly tucking into Bruce’s suit jacket, shielding him from the flashes of the paparazzi and unwanted stares. Especially with his ‘exotic’ heritage of being Romani… it’s a recipe for disaster in Gotham

Bruce refuses to let a single person touch Dick, even socialites that he trusts. He knows how quickly someone you trust can turn on you once they realize you’re vulnerable.

He keeps Jason by his side as well. Gotham high society hates anyone who didn’t grow up rich. Is he’s not by Jason’s side, he makes sure Dick is. Dick can now fend for himself, but Bruce always makes sure they’re in his line of sight.

Tim has been to these parties before, and considering how negligent his parents were… Bruce makes sure to tell Tim that he would never be mad at him for anything that happened and he is not to blame. That adults should have protected him and saved him. He tells Tim all the things he wished someone had told him when he was younger. They hug and cry about it.

He’s always so thankful that Stephanie never wanted to go to galas as mean as it makes him sound. She never had to be subjected to the cruelties of adults who had no business leering after young girls. Now that she’s older and sometimes pops in if Tim’s going, Bruce knows that they’ll protect each other.

Cass is strong and smart, but she’s also very very new to this life and more vulnerable than the rest of his kids. Bruce wishes he could give her a sense of normalcy. It’s just another thing that’s he failed at.

He knows that if push came to shove, like the rest of his children, she would not hesitate to defend herself. But there should be no shove. She shouldn’t have to. Bruce dances with her all through the night every time she decides to grace a gala with her magnificent presence. It keeps her happy, it keeps her away from harm

His youngest baby is a fire cracker, ready to take on anyone and anything that could possibly be perceived as a threat to him and his family. As much as his other babies joke that he keeps Damian nearby to stop him from stabbing people, he doesn’t want anyone to look at Damian.

Damian is barely older than he was when he returned back to Gotham high society. The only difference is that Damian now has him and all of his siblings. It’s still hard to let go, even if he knows his children are there to keep an eye on everything

Duke is very similar to Jason in more ways than one, epically since he was also born on the ‘poorer’ side of Gotham that most elites loathe unjustly. He’s seen it before, even with high standing black families. Being suddenly accused of stealing a watch or pickpocketing an expensive pearl necklace. Lives ruined simply because of the color of their skin

Nothing like that will ever happen to Duke in his presence. Bruce knows he can’t protect Duke from all the racism in the world, but man if he doesn’t want to try

Bruce has never let his family deal with his issues. He believes he’s simply not worth the trouble. So whenever he gets hit on at galas in ways that make him uncomfortable he just fakes a smile. When he feels unfamiliar hands touching him and grabbing at his body, he fakes more smiles and leans into if there are too many people watching.

Just as he’s about to make an excuse, any kind of excuse to finally get away and take a breather, Dick suddenly pops up in front of him while he feels Jason and Duke slide up behind him, pushing away the elites that had circled him

Bruce makes a soft confused sound, trying to figure out what was happening, but then Damian’s tugging on his sleeve and he already has his baby in his arms. The whirlwind that is Tim and Steph together sweep him away from the confused group of elites.

The group makes their way back over to where Cassandra is smiling expectantly, giggling softly at the confused expression on Bruce’s face.

“Dance with me?” She requested softly, knowing that Bruce would never refuse her. Bruce squeezes Damian to his chest before handing him over to Tim, which Damian surprisingly doesn’t protest

Bruce takes Cassandra’s hand and they dance around the ballroom floor with ease, over and over one of Bruce’s children came and swept him away before anyone else could get the chance

“Don’t worry, we got you Dad.” Dick smiled softly as Bruce spun him around before being passed over to Stephanie and Damian.

“I know.” Bruce chuckled, feeling so safe for the first time in a long time. “I know.”

you know what's funny? all the Justice Leage|DC x Danny Phantom crossover fics, that start with or otherwise include the premise of the Justice League (often led by Justice League Dark, and John Constantine in particular) summoning the new Ghost King to ascertain his threat status.

like. there's something very human about that. believing that, because you have named yourselves the defenders of your world, that you have any authority to demand answers of interdimensional royalty -- of anyone, really. the Green Lanterns, sure, they're quite literally a universal force and are such recognized. but only thru the lands that agree to that or are included in a sector that is under any Lantern Corps jurisdiction.

the Infinite Realms are under no one's jurisdiction but their own, so the thought of the justice league demanding answers from them is akin to a random child coming up to you in the airport and demanding you give them something. like, I'll entertain this conversation cause you're adorable but also, you have no power here, child. where is your adult?

and, from what I've seen, no one can get Constantine to do what he doesn't want or need to do. not even Batman, who is just a man.

so he'd love to be holed up in the House of Mysteries, leaving the capes to mess around and find out. but then that would make it his responsibility, so he's there to oversee the summoning and step in if neeeded, but personally has no desire to add another curse to his coat.

anywho, I'm just imagining the Justice League summoning Ghost King Danny and demanding answers and, like any teenager who knows he'll have no repercussions for doing so, he tells them to fuck off (imagine, if you will, the same joy you feel when your parents say that you're allowed to go against the rules in school because the rules are arbitrary and self-serving at best and harmful at worst, and you won't get in trouble for it even if you get detention/suspended at school)

and they're all aghast cause, what? who do you think you're talking to? and Danny's all, no, who do you think you're talking to? I am the King of the Infinite Realms, Protector of Amity Park, Keeper of the Stars, *insert all his other random titles a la Thor and Loki stalling*, and you do not make demands of me, mortal. then he just dips, cause really? a tiny lil containment circle? ha!