DC Had Made Many Questionable Choices Regarding The Bats But Also A Lot Of The Time Said Choices Are

Twins?

Danny and Damian are NOT twins, but they do look similar. Similar enough that the teachers have even started to get the two of them confused ever since Danny started to go to Gotham Academy. It gets even worse since they share almost every class together, and seem to get paired up anytime group work is needed in class.

It surprisingly didn’t take Damian very long to warm up to the other boy; if anything it was Danny who took the longest to accept the growing friendship between them. From that point on the two would purposely sit next to one another every class. The other students notice this very quickly and it isn’t long before the nickname ‘The Twins’ is being used to refer to them.

Damian once he hears this is immediately on board, and decides that Danny will be his twin brother. This is when he starts planning on how he’s going to get Danny integrating into the family. It’s meant to be Damian thinks when he later learns that Danny is attending the school on a scholarship, and doesn’t have any other family members listed on any of his paperwork.

In the end Damian decides that the best course of action is to just be direct. So, at the end of the school day he drags Danny with him to the car pick area, and pulls Danny inside of the vehicle waiting for him. Promptly declaring to Alfred who is confused to see another young boy — one who resembles Damian greatly — that this is his twin brother.

And Alfred just takes one long look at the black haired blue eyed boy before thinking to himself, “the apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree does it?” Before putting the car in drive and heading towards the manor.

Single Dad Dead on Main

AKA "Danny is the ghost-equivalent of a foster parent for de-aged Dani and Dan. Jason's just wondering who the hell these two feral meta children are." prompt idea!

Danny thinks he's doing an okay job at being a single dad of two. They're living in a quaint two bedroom apartment in Park Row, he's managing his Ghost King money well, and the kids haven't died (again). (He's definitely not getting a "World's Greatest Dad" mug anytime soon, but, hey, at least the house hasn't burned down yet!)

...Until he wakes up from his nap to an eerily silent apartment.

If there's one thing he's learned over the last few months, it's that silence is not good. He's scrambling off the couch fast enough to give himself a headache, practically flying down the hallway so he can get to the kids' room. Ellie is wedged halfway under her bunk bed. Dan's also squished under the bed but quickly squirms out when he realizes Danny's standing in the door way. He's holding... a socket wrench??

"...do I want to know what you two are doing?" Danny deadpans.

Ellie scrambles out as well, smears of something oily on her cheek. For a seven and eight year old, they have surprisingly convincing I'm innocent! expressions.

"I dunno," Ellie singsongs while Dan simultaneously barks, "Nothing!"

Danny squints. The kids squint back. Yeah, there's definitely something under the bed that's not supposed to be there. Since Dan's holding a wrench (and where the hell did he get that?? Danny doesn't even own any tools aside from maybe a little rubber mallet he found in the hallway closet), Danny hopes thinks it's not an animal.

It takes a minute of arguing in which Danny promises not to be mad, let them eat ice cream, and let them stay up an hour later than curfew for the kids to even let him near the bed without biting him. (Jokes on them, the ice cream is sugar free and Danny's going to reset the clocks to an hour before. Check and mate, bitch! Parenting is so easy.)

And then Danny pulls out... a tire. No, a rim. Two tire rims. Oh, Ancients. Engraved on the tire rim is a red Bat symbol. His stomach nearly drops to the floor; everybody in Crime Alley knows what the Red Hood's symbol looks like. "Eight Heads in a Duffle Bag," Crime Prince of Gotham with a gang big enough to take over all of Park Row. And yeah, Danny could easily beat the guy, but that doesn't mean he wants to. He doesn't want to uproot Dan and Ellie from their schools, move cities, run from yet another organization that wants them dead.

"How did you get this?" Danny asks, utterly dumbfounded.

"I dunno," Ellie says, just as Dan's saying, "Nowhere."

(Danny takes it back. Parenting is definitely not easy.)

"Danielle. Daniel. Where did you get these tire rims?" Danny asks again, more stern this time, to which he only gets shrugs. And that's when he notices the window is open and the screen his missing. "You're kidding me. Did you climb out the window? We're on the third floor!"

"We flew, duh." Ellie rolls her eyes, only shooting a wide-eyed, guilty look to Dan when he elbows her with a vicious shuddup!

"I-okay. Here's what we're going to do. We'll... just return the rims. It's not like the Red Hood saw you two steal them-," Danny stops when Ellie and Dan give each other a side-eye. He knows that look. It's the same look he and Jazz used to give each other when they had a silent agreement about something. Oh, no. No, no, no.

"...he didn't see you, did he?"

Another side-eye look. Oh, Ancients. At least there's no way the Red Hood knows where they are, right?

(Jason stares at the kids playing with his bike. He's not stupid enough to think they couldn't have been paid to sabotage it, but the way the little girl hikes herself up onto the seat and pretends to rev the engine makes him think otherwise. It's cute. The boy mostly seems interested in the engraved bat symbol on his tire rims, scraping at it like it's a 3D decal.

"I wanna be a bicycle-rider when I get bigger. I'll wear the jacket and everything!" The little girl laughs, deepening her voice before saying, "I'm a bicycle-rider! I'll beat you up!"

Jason snorts. He's leaning against the fire escape balcony overhead and it's dark enough for them not to see him, but they both freeze at the soft sound. When nothing happens, the kids relax again.

"It's a motorist, stupid. C'mon, help me take this off and I'll build you one."

"You wanna take the tire? Why?"

"'Cus of the symbol! It's the Batman symbol, do you know how scared people are of 'em? Show 'em this and nobody'll mess with us."

The kid's got a point. Crime Alley knows Red Hood's symbol like the back of their hand, but somehow Jason doesn't think rolling around a tire rim is going to have the same effect. Jason's about to step in when the kid bends the fucking metal with his bare hand. His fucking bike. It looks like the kid barely broke a sweat, too; just wiped his hands on his jeans and started prying apart front of his motorcycle.

Jason's voice is more biting than he means for it to when he shouts, "Hey!" He swings over the fire escape, landing with a heavy thud, before hauling ass towards the kids. Almost immediately the boy yanks the girl behind him and snarls... and his eyes go Lazarus-green. Jason stops abruptly. His voice is softer, gentler, when he tries again.

"Hey, kid. Don't you know not to go tearing apart people's bikes? C'mon, at least do it the right way."

That makes the boy pause, looking momentarily baffled and the green turning into bright blue. Jason takes that as an in and says, "Y'know, it's a lot faster when you use tools. I've got a wrench in my bag. If you use it like this..."

Jason spends the next thirty-five minutes helping the kids steal his own damn rims. He shouldn't. But he's curious about who these meta kids are and they're almost painfully easy to talk with, they just blabber like they've never heard of keeping a secret before in their lives. They talk about their dad, school, their favorite tv show. And then they talk about "the bad men" and Jason's stomach drops. "The bad men" who drive white vans, capture people, and experiment on them. And that sounds an awful lot like a meta-trafficking ring in his city, dead set on coming after the kids and their dad.

Then he's very, very grateful he's letting the kids take his rims home. After all, what Bat doesn't put GPS trackers in their symbols?)

Uther: You gave my wife’s sigil to a servant?!

Arthur: Ah, but he’s my favourite servant :D

No one expected Tim to be the first of rhe batkids to adopt a child. Especially Tim Drake-Wayne himself. But what else was he supposed to do when the strange glowing ferret-worm thing eating his Death wish coffee grounds turned into a confused, and now hyper, five year old boy?

Well he did after he was done freaking out over a meta child eating Death Wish Coffee grounds.

Thomas: Son, I have a dark family secret I have to share with you.

Bruce nodding: I'm adopted

Thomas: That's not it.

Bruce nodding: I'm actually the biological son of Alfred and Mother, but you raised me as your own anyway.

Thomas: No

Bruce side eyeing him: You stole me from a park when I was little.

Thomas: No! Geez, you think I would pick you out of all the park kids?

Bruce: Hurtful but fair. What's the secert then?

Thomas: We stole your bother Danny from a park when he was little.

Bruce: No! Not little Danny! He likes the stars father! He was innocent!

Thomas: I know! But I couldn't stop Martha or Alfred! Oh my dear son, I have lived with shame for years! I can take it no longer!

Bruce: You must turn yourself in father. Face justice for what you've done!

Danny standing three feet away: I'm was kidnapped?

Martha: Meh, you fell through a glowing portal of death, and when everyone ran away screaming, Alfred and I just scooped you up and took you home. Thomas doesn't believe us about the portal, though, and has been trying to find your birth family for years.

Danny: Is that why he keeps asking for me to do DNA tests?

Alfred: Yes. Master Thomas fancies himself a detective.

Martha: What's so unbelievable about a glowing white-haired teenager falling from a swirling portal of death and shrinking into a few months old human baby due to his terrible injures? Storks bring babies all the time!

Alfred: I just think Master Thomas isn't as well traveled as he should be. I've seen the same protal at least five times back in London.

Why would Clockwork de-age Danny and then just leave him in Gotham for Batman to steal? No, he'd raise that boy himself. Fuck letting others get their grubby mitts on his new son. He wants to make sure he doesn't turn evil like Dan and this is the only way he knows it will work 100%.

That is until someone summons the ancient of time and gets a baby because the portal was a little to the left.

Now Clockwork is sending ghosts to go retrieve the boy since he can't leave the realms.

Ghost of a Chance

Gotham was not a city known for its kindness. Rain slicked the alleyways like a second skin, and shadows crept where sunlight dared not linger. Alfred Pennyworth had seen a great many things in this city. Muggers, monsters, and masked madmen were just part of the nightly routine. What he hadn't expected, however, was to be saved by a ghost.

Or something very much like one.

It was supposed to be a quick errand—a quiet evening walk to clear his head. But halfway down Burnside, three desperate men with more bravado than brains cornered him. Alfred had been ready to disarm the first and disable the second, but he never got the chance. A blur of white and black swooped in, accompanied by the distant, bone-deep hum of unnatural power. The muggers were down in seconds—one frozen to the wall, another knocked out cold, and the third suspended midair by a glowing hand that flickered green.

The boy was there and gone just as fast. Alfred barely had time to register the tattered hoodie, the hollow cheeks, the white hair and green eyes that didn’t seem quite human.

"Wait—!" Alfred had called, but the boy was already gone, melting into the shadows like smoke.

The encounter would’ve ended there—just another strange chapter in Gotham’s nightbook—if it hadn’t kept happening.

Twice more, the mysterious young man appeared. Once to stop a purse snatcher near the theater. Another time to drag a lost child out of a crumbling building during a fire. Always fast, always silent. Always gone before Alfred could properly speak to him.

And always too thin.

It was the kind of thin that spoke of long nights without food. Hollow cheeks, knobby elbows, a belt cinched too tight around jeans that barely stayed up. It reminded Alfred of the early days—of Dick, of Jason, of Tim, of Damian. Of boys who had learned to survive instead of live.

Alfred Pennyworth had a rule: no one went hungry on his watch.

And so began his campaign.

At first, it was subtle. A wrapped sandwich left behind after one of the ghost-boy’s heroic appearances. A thermos of hot tea left conveniently near a rooftop perch. A backpack, clean and durable, filled with protein bars and fresh socks. Most of it vanished, though Alfred never saw it happen.

Then came the note, scrawled in messy, tired handwriting:

“Thanks. You didn’t have to. I’m not sticking around though. It’s safer for you if I don’t.”

The next day, Alfred left a response tucked in the same spot:

“You are not a danger, young man. I’ve seen far worse, and fed far worse. If you insist on continuing your streak of rooftop chivalry, I insist you do so on a full stomach.”

He added a slice of quiche. It was gone by morning.

Bruce raised an eyebrow the first time he caught Alfred baking two loaves of banana bread instead of one. Tim said nothing when the supply order mysteriously included a half dozen extra protein shakes and thermal gloves in medium size. Damian made a snide comment—something about stray ghosts haunting the pantry—but Alfred didn’t dignify it with a reply.

Then came the night it changed.

A patrol gone wrong. Batman caught in a collapsing parking garage. The comms went dead. Nightwing was too far. Red Hood was tracking Penguin. The only one nearby—untraceable, unregistered, and undeniably powerful—was the boy Alfred had been feeding for weeks.

He left the beacon on the rooftop.

“Help him. Please. –A.P.”

Within minutes, Bruce stumbled through the Batcave entrance, soot-smudged and breathing, but alive. Behind him, almost hidden in the shadows, was the boy. White hair. Green eyes. Shivering slightly, but still on his feet.

“I didn’t do it for favors,” the boy said. His voice was hoarse, too young for his haunted face. “I just... couldn’t let him die.”

“I know,” Alfred said gently. “Which is precisely why the offer of dinner still stands.”

“…I shouldn’t.” But his eyes drifted toward the warm lights of the manor beyond the cave, toward the smell of fresh bread and something sweet baking in the oven.

“No one escapes me forever, dear boy,” Alfred said with a small smile. “Not even slippery ghosts.”

The boy stared at him for a long moment. Then finally, like a candle burning out, he sagged.

“…Okay. Just for tonight.”

“Of course,” Alfred said, already turning toward the kitchen. “We’ll start with soup.”

Behind him, the boy whispered a name like an afterthought—like something long buried finally being said aloud.

“Danny. My name’s Danny.”

“Well then, Master Danny,” Alfred said, with the same fondness he reserved for all his wayward sons, “welcome home.”

Part 6: Cub’s Lab

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Extra:

I see and accept the "Danny gets adopted by the Bats and tries to hide that he's Phantom" but I raise you that if Danny had a choice in the matter he would choose to live as a civilian with The Flash, due to it being well known that the Flash is a sceptic, and thus would not clue in to Danny's ghostlyness.

What Danny doesnt know is that the Flash isnt a sceptic. Not anymore. Kinda hard to seriously deny it now since hes been through so many magic based disasters. He just pretends to keep up the sceptisism to make evil magic users lower their guard around him.

So yes, he does come to the conclusion he might have just adopted a powerful sorceror or ghost. He has NO IDEA what to do about it though, so he might as well pretend he didnt see the kid's entire hand phase through a cupboard door.

Danny has been declared the Ghost King at Fifteen. He hasn't been told this yet, but his self-proclaimed closest ghost friends, Johnny 13, Ember, and Kitty, have volunteered to not only tell him, but be his bodyguards.

They do not, in fact, tell him.

They instead make it a game of "Get down, Mr. President!" and dogpile him from perceived threats. Threats like the toaster. Or Dash Baxter. Or Mr. Lancer. A stray cat that walked out of an alley. A fight with Skulker.

A bird.

The worst bit is, even the GIW and his parents have stopped attacking those specific ghosts, because it's far more interesting that beings that mimic human behavior have picked up a childs game to mimic.

So he'll be home, at the kitchen, and with an almighty cry of "GET DOWN MR. PRESIDENT" one of the three ghosts will launch themselves over him dramatically.

There is not escape.

The security system in his house has been programmed to ignore them.

His parents love the opportunity to talk to a ghost, and are starting to go back on their "all ghosts are evil" thing.