THE SOMNOLENT SPECTER WHO COLLECTS SIDEKICKS
(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—”
@cryptid-inksmith
