I'm a longtime Danny Phantom fan who recently got into Batfam stuff, just in time for the DCxDP crossover to take off again. Which was hilariously good timing for me.
My blog mostly contain content from those fandoms, plus some random funny or artsy posts.
Every post where I do more than simply reblog should be tagged #Lux writes, so that's the tag to filter with if you want to see my original content.
I've also done some #collection posts tagged as #Collective Creativity where I copy and paste good content spread out over reblogs and branches of a post that people have added to over time.
Emoji preserve: (I usually post from a laptop and it's easier to just copy-paste emojies)
So, Undergrowth finds a natural portal leading to the dc dimension and possesses poison ivy. The justice league are at a loss because poison ivy is suddenly so much more powerful and also they have no idea on how to deal with ghosts. In comes Danny and the Team Phantom. Somehow they learn about this and gear up to go take care of the problem. The twist?
They arrive as gardeners. Dressed in overalls, Tucker has a leaf blower, Sam has a weed wacker, and all three of them ride into the watchtower meeting room through a glowing green portal on a big lawnmower that danny is driving.
“Hey guys, heard you have a landscaping problem? Well, we at Phantom Gardening INC are the best for the job! We do everything! Shaping hedges, large lawns, tree stuff— uh guys what else do gardeners do?” Danny whispers the last part to the others who are barely holding back their laughter.
“Call us Edward Scissorhands, for we will turn your uncultivated yard into a masterpiece, guaranteed but no money back!” Tucker butts in.
And then they defeat undergrowth using only gardening tools and undergrowth gets sucked into the leaf blower.
What if they did that because back home they are stuck in a time loop and the other dimension traveling to get their rouges in silly costumes is so they can blow off boredom
guest meta provided by my European friend @chairteeth
I’m a little bit miffed by just how many people are saying that supposedly a “valid” reason to hate Jacinthe is that she’s rich, while very clearly having absolutely zero clue what she’s even meant to be despite how blatantly obvious the game makes it. These people are judging Jacinthe the same way they judge American billionaires, either because they are from the United States themselves, or due to American cultural imperialism, and I’m sorry, but that’s missing the point by several solar systems.
On my authority as someone who’s always been fascinated by this entire topic her entire life, the host of a system with dozens of aristocrats, and a citizen of the Kingdom of Spain, I’m going to slowly go through some concepts with you and explain why Jacinthe and Elon Musk are incomparable (besides the obvious).
What is noblesse oblige?
The concept of noblesse oblige (a French phrase translating as “nobility obligates”) summarizes a moral principle historically applied to European elites. At its core, it asserts that high rank, inherited status, or birthright necessitates a corresponding commitment to honorable, generous, and responsible conduct. This foundational concept dictates that whoever claims to be noble must, through their actions, conduct themselves nobly. It’s similar to the concept of “with great power comes great responsibility” that pop culture has made more widespread. The highborn are duty-bound to care for the lowborn. That is a law drilled into every aristocrat from birth.
In its application, noblesse oblige functions as a moral economy: the substantial privilege afforded by wealth, power, and prestige must be actively balanced by explicit duty towards those who lack such advantages or cannot perform that duty themselves. It provided a structural mechanism for legitimizing a hierarchical social order. While the strongest interpretation of this principle was intrinsically linked to hereditary status, the concept later extended, by analogy, to anyone in a position of significant advantage—whether due to high office, celebrity, or earned success—implying an obligation to act respectably and responsibly regardless of bloodline. This extension means that the underlying moral principle, that privilege demands responsibility, has some sort of a persistent cultural resonance.
And the enforcement of required conduct was not merely a matter of personal virtue! It was a method of institutional maintenance, and nobles often put one another in check with their strict rules and social pressures. For example, take the celebration of Seelenwoche in the Austrian Empire, 19th century, which is basically the predecessor to Halloween and about a week long. It would be absolutely unthinkable for a noble family not to give extensive gifts and patronage to their local communities and relevant charities. The higher the rank/larger the wealth, the more was expected of them. The aristocratic class relied on the principle that status was conditional upon performance, and the existence of noblesse oblige as a concept formalized a reciprocal relationship within the hierarchy: the non-privileged classes accepted and deferred to the nobility, and in return, the nobility owed them material protection, military defense, and justice, as well as charity. Let’s dig into some of the historical context behind this, shall we? Yes, I promise this is relevant to Jacinthe Pokémon.
This arrangement started with the historical feudal bargain. The duties imposed by the concept were not optional acts of charity, they were mandatory social and political requirements. The essential difference between the aristocratic model and the modern billionaire model is found in this element of mandate and reciprocity. For the aristocracy, the causal relationship was clear: duty led directly to legitimacy, which sustained the hierarchy. Historical analyses indicate that the nobility understood that visible, required duties protected their position from internal dissent or systemic collapse, thus safeguarding their class from revolution or dispossession, a strategic imperative that modern elites (particularly in the United States) frequently appear to disregard. Portrayals of the aristocracy in modern media as nobles who believed themselves to be untouchable are not what I’d call accurate for this very reason. Let me explain a little of their duties.
So, what does it mean to be an aristocrat?
Well, their duties were numerous and formalized, tied inextricably to land tenure and title. These were codified not really as charity but as necessary functions of decentralized governance.
The most fundamental were the feudal duties, which constituted a set of reciprocal financial, military, and legal obligations among the warrior nobility within the feudal system. These structures developed in response to the decentralization of empires and a lack of monetary liquidity, leading groups of warriors to assume control over the social, political, judicial, and economic spheres of their territory.
Specific mandatory duties owed by a vassal to his lord fell into two main defined categories.
Military Duties (Auxilium): These were personal service, providing troops (raising levies), and later evolved to include scutage, which is a payment made in lieu of direct service. Further military duties involved mandatory work on fortifications, roads, and bridges, sometimes collectively referred to as the trinoda necessitas.
Court Duties (Consilium): These obligations required vassals to attend and provide counsel to their lord, compelling the noble class to participate actively in governance and judicial proceedings, thus binding them into a collective political identity centered on the dispensing of justice. This is important, remember this for later.
Crucially, the obligation ran both up and down the feudal hierarchy. The feudal lord’s principal commitment was the duty to protect his vassals, providing military defense from incursion and judicial protection via court justice. This mandatory nature of service, required for holding land and title, really starkly contrasts with the highly discretionary nature of modern American philanthropy, which often leverages the current tax system to maximize benefits for the donor rather than fulfilling a non-negotiable societal obligation. And you might say, “but that was medieval era stuff!” AND THAT’S WHERE YOU’RE WRONG! Or, well, you are legally correct, but culturally and socially in the wrong. But we will get to that. Hold it.
The important thing is that the European nobility functioned as a cohesive collective, bound by expectations of conduct that maintained a unified public image of responsibility. This collective action was a form of self-preservation, directly linking the estate’s prestige to its mandated public service, and motivated them to ensure their peers did their part to maintain this as well. So, if one noble stepped out of line, they would at the very least receive the shame and scorn of their peers. It is inelegant, uncouth, barbaric even, to skirt one’s duties out of anything short of absolute necessity (which was practically never the case for the elite).
I cannot stress enough that the status and legitimacy of the noble class were inseparable from its visible engagement in service to their community. The nobility was defined by its public roles, often including command structures in the military, and I mention this part specifically because this institutionalized duty persists even in modern remnants of nobility, such as the British Royal Family or indeed our very own Spanish Royal Family, where the Sovereign acts as Head of the Armed Forces. For instance, Crown Princess Leonor of Spain is under obligation to master every language of Spain (yes, Spain has official languages besides Spanish), and to undergo training in all branches of the Armed Forces she will one day be at the head of. These are obligations that no normal citizen of the country has. They are directly tied to the enduring historical idea that elevated status imposes a requirement for personal risk and visible or otherwise tangible service to the realm (particularly if said status is inherited, but it applies in general).
The aristocracy’s concern for its public image can’t be understated. Protecting the “honor” of the noble class and by extension their specific House and allies translated directly into political stability, reducing the risk of challenge to their concentrated power—that, and it was just viewed as “the right thing to do” and morally correct. Again, duty. This once again stands in sharp contrast to the conduct of contemporary American billionaires, whose philanthropic or public actions primarily serve to enhance personal reputational capital. Where the aristocracy defended a collective political estate, the American billionaire defends an autonomous personal brand, and the keyword there is brand. You can argue that “aristocrats were performative too” all you want, but here’s the reality: their only way of making their feats known to the people was to directly, truly help said people, not plaster their latest donation all over the news to reach a global audience.
Now, before I explain why exactly all this is relevant, I want to acknowledge some points. In principle, noblesse oblige successfully generated a form of institutionalized generosity and philanthropy, and it implicitly acknowledged that holding a privileged socioeconomic position often involves elements of luck or unearned advantage. This ethical framework, therefore, moralized the existence of entrenched inequality by requiring the elite to mitigate its harshest effects. However, the major sociological critique of noblesse oblige is that the very structure of its generosity perpetuates the hierarchy it seeks to alleviate. By framing the relationship as one where the upper class possesses “gifts to offer” and the poor are merely “grateful recipients” the concept reinforces the walls of wealth, education, and power. This structural critique suggests that the ethical concept attempted to impose a moral overlay onto a fundamentally unequal system of hereditary power and wealth. While the ethos compelled service, it ultimately solidified the systemic inequality that made that service necessary in the first place. Which is true! That is true! I’m not denying that. Furthermore, this system inevitably kept the “noblesse” isolated and out of touch. The privileged remained behind the wall of their socioeconomic advantage, often lacking genuine contact with economic hardship, the reality of work that does not yield success, or a broad array of human diversity. This isolation limited the nobility's capacity to enact effective, structural change, but.
That is no longer the case in the world we live in. Yes, the wealthy are sheltered, but. The fundamental difference lies in the fact that we are more exposed to a variety of experiences and perspectives than ever, through our screens and networks that cover our entire planet. Even the most sheltered individual can go online and discover the world, meet people unlike themselves, see reality. This has led to something of an interesting phenomenon I’ve noticed.
Europe has its wealthy elite. We definitely do. But how come I hear of them so very rarely when compared to the American wealthy elite? I’m not even from an English-speaking country. Does the average American have the slightest idea who our wealthy elite are? I will assume not. Just last year at the time of writing, the east of Spain suffered devastating floods, and given how much of the damage and death was the fault of political negligence, our government did too little too late. However… one of the many petty squabbles our Prime Minister got into over this was with King Felipe. I’m going to summarize this, but during the worst of the floods, countless photos and videos flooded social media, cries for help as people lost power, became stranded or trapped in their own homes. As the rain continued to pour down, many people had no food, no water, and no electricity, for days. Firefighters, law enforcement, and military personnel expressed frustration online, because as it turns out, even though they (particularly the military) had rations, machinery, and the capacity to be sent out to help… they had been blocked from doing so. Remember when I mentioned that the King of Spain is also Head of the Armed Forces? King Felipe had attempted to send out orders for soldiers to aid us, but as we are a constitutional monarchy, those were blocked by the government. A deeply unpopular decision that got an angry mob slinging mud at the Prime Minister, by the way. The King then attempted to send his own royal guard, and made arrangements to visit the affected and speak to his people, as is his duty; when these arrangements of the official schedule were once again blocked by the Prime Minister, he and his wife instead used their own free time for the visits. Duty to their people above all else. A clear display of non-aristocratic demeanor versus aristocratic demeanor. And hey, I’m not done here, because my point isn’t “bring the aristocracy back full force” at all.
Enter Juan Roig Alfonso. Local Valencian billionaire, CEO of Mercadona, a Spanish supermarket chain. Not a noble, not by far. Juan Roig was a vocal critic of the government’s handling of the flood situation, how they left so many citizens vulnerable, exposed, in some cases starving. Government negligence led to so many more deaths than there otherwise would have been (and it’s the belief of quite literally everyone that the government is employing loopholes to lie about the number of confirmed victims). On several occasions, he’s been visibly moved when recalling the losses and the suffering of the victims, as well as the work of the volunteers and Mercadona employees. Why is this relevant? He put his money where his mouth is. Under his orders, Mercadona allocated €40 million to support its employees affected by the floods, which Roig described as a “glass of water in the desert” for them. Roig then proceeded to make other donations and provide aid, totaling €108 million for recovery efforts last time I checked. And you know how I know this? Because I only know of him passively, I’m not the type who tries to track rich people’s every move. It wasn’t plastered all over the news (though newspapers evidently reported on it). I know this because I saw his workers rebuilding a park in a town I visit, faster than the government deigned to offer any aid. I know this because I heard from victims directly about his aid saving their lives, the lives of relatives, and/or the lives of friends.
And you know what? No one was getting on their knees praising Lord Roig over this. People were relieved to receive aid, of course, but the general reaction I gathered was a metaphorical nod of approval. He did as he was expected to do. Protect and provide aid for his community. Every time I’ve heard about a local billionaire, it has not been from the media, but from the mouth of someone they helped. A scholarship program, disaster relief, etc., and the people in question were never praising the billionaire. It is spoken of casually, they are given credit for their good actions, but they are not praised. Because well, of course they gave out their money where it was needed, of course they put it towards helping the less fortunate. That’s their duty. Proper aristocratic behavior, even when they are legally not. And yet, when an American billionaire floods the media with their latest philanthropic act, it’s always accompanied by waves and waves of praise. Why, when it should be the bare minimum? Why, when that should be the default way to conduct themselves?
The American Dream: Hyper-Individualist Turbocapitalism
The economic and moral landscape inhabited by modern American billionaires is defined by a cultural ethos that actively rejects the foundational principles of institutionalized duty and collective obligation central to noblesse oblige. And man, does it show!
American culture is shaped by a pervasive form of individualism that places pronounced emphasis on the individual personality rather than group identity and responsibility. This orientation insists that the individual is the primary, autonomous, and morally responsible agent. A core historical component of American individualism has been the rejection of state authority and a deep-seated impatience with restraints upon economic activity. This philosophical resistance to collective control directly undermines any societal attempt to mandate civic duty or impose non-negotiable obligations tied to accumulated wealth. Plus, this hyper-capitalistic worldview is founded on the concept of private property and abstract market exchange, so it often manifests in a collective obsession with infinite growth. Just look at the focus on metrics like high per capita GDP, the weird idea that a constant “number go up” (in everything, but particularly obvious in the corporate world) is somehow sustainable long term, or even the obsession with “earning six figures” and individual net worth.
Another point is that I see people justify wealth extremely often. Modern American billionaires often deploy meritocratic rhetoric to “legitimize” their immense fortunes, portraying themselves as “brilliant innovators” whose success is a function of hard work and provides valuable services to society. This narrative frames extreme wealth not as a policy failure or a social burden, but as a sign of a prosperous and growing society. And this narrative is fundamentally flawed.
Sociological analysis reveals that the accumulation of wealth at this extreme level is frequently the result of systemic factors, not purely individual ones. Research indicates that approximately 60% of billionaire wealth is derived from three primary sources: inheritance, cronyism/corruption, or the wielding of monopoly power. The ideological commitment to radical individualism and the rejection of state regulation have structurally fostered an environment where a “new aristocratic oligarchy” can emerge, accumulating vast fortunes through market concentration and intergenerational transfer. However, the cultural value placed on individual autonomy ironically creates the systemic conditions (monopoly power and lack of restraint) that generate wealth disparity, while this new oligarchy most often completely lacks the sense of duty and honor that dictated the actions of the old aristocracy and which has been passed down to the current generation of wealthy elites in Europe.
The enormous concentration of resources among American billionaires results in political inequality as well, a fundamental challenge to democratic governance. Changes in campaign finance laws, particularly the Citizens United Supreme Court ruling in 2010, have enabled the ultra-rich to dedicate unlimited funds to political causes and elections. These financial shifts, coupled with tax breaks favoring the wealthy and weakened labor power, have demonstrably tilted public policy toward the interests of the wealthiest strata, and act as a final violation of aristocratic duty.
In this modern plutocracy, the billionaire’s financial influence replaces the territorial or military power of the historical noble. The aristocracy used institutional mechanisms—titles and land—to secure political influence; American billionaires use wealth itself to bypass democratic restraints, effectively transforming discretionary financial holdings into mandatory political power. This dynamic marks a shift from institutionalized inequality (feudalism) to a financialized inequality that allows immense socio-economic influence to be wielded often without translating into broader societal benefits. The plutocrats of the USA may mingle among their peers in ways that seem similar to the old aristocracy, but their complete lack of noblesse oblige in a majority of cases is what separates the two. This is what has bred the current climate of hatred and pure disdain for them, as opposed to the European acceptance of our hierarchy as “the way it is” due to our elite fulfilling their social obligations. In Europe, new money imitated old money, and strove to be accepted by them, and as such, adopted aristocratic values.
The New World abandoned this concept. We now bear witness to the dystopic results.
The Disheartening Comparisons
The essential difference between the aristocracy and contemporary American billionaires lies in the moral accountability attached to wealth, and whether it is mandated or optional.
For the aristocracy, duty was historically codified and mandatory. The duties owed by a vassal were non-negotiable obligations tied directly to the feudal contract and the maintenance of their position. Failure to perform mandatory military or judicial service often resulted in the forfeiture of the land and the source of power.
In the modern American context, the structure of obligation is fundamentally inverted. The US tax system, rather than enforcing a corresponding duty, often encourages tax-free wealth accumulation. Philanthropy becomes voluntary and discretionary, frequently serving multiple purposes simultaneously: generating altruism, enhancing social recognition, building legacy, and securing preferential tax treatment. When charitable acts are performed, analyses suggest that most billionaires are not philanthropically generous, giving less than 5% of their fortune. Furthermore, mechanisms like Donor-Advised Funds (DAFs) and Private Foundations can be utilized to maintain familial influence and keep capital dormant while claiming charitable credit. This system of discretionary giving is therefore a poor, often self-serving, substitute for a mandatory system of public duty.
In the vacuum left by the lack of mandated duty, new ethical frameworks have emerged to justify large-scale wealth accumulation. Effective Altruism (EA) is a philosophical and social movement that advocates using evidence and rationality to prioritize causes that maximize positive impact, such as global health or risks to humanity’s long-term survival (e.g., climate change). It justifies extreme wealth through the “earn to give” principle, arguing that individuals who accumulate vast sums are in the best position to deploy capital effectively to solve collective action problems. This perspective assumes that the expertise and resources of the wealthy elite are optimally suited to benefit the poor, a view that is compatible with the meritocratic, hyper-capitalist structure of the United States. However, EA shares a critical contradiction with noblesse oblige: it maintains the hierarchical assumption that the privileged possess superior knowledge and resources to determine what is best for the unfortunate. Critics argue that EA acts as a “shallow solution” that obscures the systemic problems that necessitate charity in the first place, effectively operating as a form of “trickle-down economics but from the private side”. By incentivizing individuals to amass greater power under the guise of maximizing societal good, EA legitimizes the continued concentration of capital. The main distinction is that EA represents an individualistic moral framework driven by intellectual calculation, whereas noblesse oblige was a collective framework driven by institutional service, and clearly one of these is working better than the other.
Let me put it into a table for easy digestion. Here’s a quick comparison of wealth stewardship models, specifically their institutional and cultural differences:
Yes, yes, I hear you, that’s the old nobility. But while the historical structure of noblesse oblige has largely dissolved, the concept of collective obligation for the wealthy remains culturally and institutionally embedded in contemporary Europe, manifesting primarily through robust social-democratic frameworks and the aristocratic behavior of our wealthy elites.
European societies define fairness not through American “equality of opportunity” but as “social justice” achieved as an outcome through comprehensive welfare state provision. This structural commitment to collective security significantly alters the legitimacy and perceived importance of private wealth. In this model, security and opportunity are provided largely through public investment and welfare state mechanisms, rather than relying on private beneficence. The existence of a strong collective provision system alongside the adherence of our “modern aristocrats” to the spiritual successor of noblesse oblige mediates the political controversy surrounding inherited wealth. Social stability is maintained with mandated collective financial contribution (taxation), shifting the burden of care from the discretion of the individual “noble” to the mandatory system of the collective state, which then increases systemic financial accountability while diffusing the cultural necessity for individual philanthropic intervention to address basic needs.
But! Because the old system is so deeply rooted in our culture, our rich folk contribute to society more extensively and without complaint. They are still expected to serve. And yes, I hear you, wealth inequality in Europe remains significant despite strong welfare states, with the richest 1% in the EU holding 32% of total net wealth. I’m not saying that’s not a problem here or that Europe is some equality utopia. This concentration of wealth has actually increased sharply since 2020, and it’s fueled modern debates over accountability. The concept of duty in contemporary Europe is increasingly framed through legislative mechanisms, usually calls for wealth taxes, and proposals for coordinated tax actions (like common wealth tax standards for long-term residents) are justified not only by the need for revenue but also by the imperative to correct structural flaws—namely, the allowing of the wealthiest individuals to maintain relatively low effective tax rates. Successful implementation of such tax measures is viewed as essential for fixing contemporary tax systems and increasing social trust and cohesion. Because we can’t expect all the wealthy to contribute as much as they should based on honor alone anymore, the modern manifestation of “obligation” in Europe is thus a shift toward binding them through law.
The European philanthropic landscape differs significantly from the American model as well. I won’t hesitate to point out our own issues. Private money dedicated to the public good amounts to €60 billion annually from foundations across Europe, but large-scale, individualized philanthropy equivalent to the American “mega-foundation” is often cited as a niche area. When philanthropy does occur, it is often articulated as “philanthropy with a European purpose” that focuses on protecting and strengthening shared European values: human dignity, freedom, democracy, equality, the rule of law, and human rights. This focus contrasts with American philanthropy’s frequent concentration on solving structural deficits in the social safety net (e.g., local education or healthcare), which are generally managed by the state in most European countries.
Meanwhile, modern American billionaires operate within a system defined by market dominance and financial flexibility. Their power is enforceable primarily through capital accumulation and political influence. The cultural emphasis on hyper-individualism and the rejection of state restraint has produced a system where the wealthy operate under a discretionary morality, allowing philanthropy to be deployed as a tool for personal benefit (tax avoidance, reputational capital) rather than as a binding obligation. Thus the plutocracy.
Finally, how does this all tie into the view of Jacinthe Pokémon?
First, I will completely ignore the racist and misogynist views of her, because that isn’t the focus of this certified textwall. I feel that most of the takes I have seen from people genuinely hating her for being rich are missing the fact that she’s French. Kalos is France. And Jacinthe acts exactly like a modern aristocrat under noblesse oblige. On that note, she’s called “Lady Jacinthe” by everyone around her, but noble titles in France, including any equivalent to hers, hold no legal status whatsoever since the Third Republic (1870). Authentic historical titles can sometimes be recognized by the Department of Justice for use as part of one’s civil name on identity documents, but this tolerance grants zero official privilege. So, either Kalos is still a monarchy, or Jacinthe is one of those descendants of aristocrats that managed to retain significant wealth.
Judging by the way Jacinthe speaks of her own duty and the actions she actually takes in the game, politically speaking, it’s clear that a similar concept to noblesse oblige exists in the Kalosian cultural landscape. There is likely a cultural framework of obligation equivalent in scope and mandate to the historical duties performed by the noble class, thereby maintaining the necessary balance between privilege and public accountability. Though she does avoid specifying what she means by elite, it’s clear that it’s a distinct class of sorts.
Jacinthe cares deeply for the welfare of the city, in her own fae-like detached way, and flippant though she may act, she, like Juan Roig, “puts her money where her mouth is” when crisis strikes. She is aware of her class privilege, and wields it… uh, yes, well, she does wield it for her own benefit, but the important part is that “her own benefit” is mostly harmless and when it comes down to it, she uses this privilege and all her resources for the good of the people and Pokémon of Lumiose City. She is smarter than she may seem, and more cautious than she looks. In fact, it’s plenty possible that the drastic price reduction for Pokémon training related items in shops was a result of her political lobbying: XY pricing on the left, ZA on the right.
I know Jett said property values went down, but this screams of political meddling. My point is that Jacinthe has the belief system of a European aristocrat, and will wield her power in service of the people, as duty dictates. We know she is idolized, beloved among her peers, which is very good news for Lumiose City, because it means virtually all of their wealthy elite will be working together under the SBC towards the common goal of making their lives better. Thus, putting their money where their mouth is. They also kind of incidentally create a paramilitary force or militia that can be deployed whenever there’s a crisis…
Anyway, in order to achieve the goal of making everyone a strong trainer, quality of life must be high enough and cost of living low enough that people can afford to spend their time and money on intensive training. So, it’s in Jacinthe’s best interests to ensure the wellbeing of “her people” within “her territory” which is the city itself. I know a lot of “I hate her because she’s rich” folks are joking, but I also know many are not.
Jacinthe is an aristocrat doing her duty. A quirky one sure, but she is overall a net positive for the city of Lumiose and its people.
Also, thank you to Abarero for the screencaps!
Fun sources and further reading:
NOBLESSE OBLIGE Definition & Meaning - Merriam-Webster
The Problem with "Noblesse Oblige" - Amy Julia Becker
Noblesse oblige - Wikipedia
Noblesse Oblige: Caring for the Less Fortunate - Values of the Wise
A Cross-Cultural Study of Noblesse Oblige in Economic Decision-Making - ResearchGate
Billionaires Promised to Give Wealth Away — So Why Are They Richer Than Ever?
Feudal duties - Wikipedia
Taxing Wealth Seriously
A degrowth perspective on the question of 'should billionaires exist'? - Emerald Publishing
Paradoxes of American Individualism - UC Berkeley Sociology Department
Wealth Without Limits: in Defense of Billionaires - PMC - NIH
What we really think about the ultra-wealthy - USC Dornsife
Top 5 Ways Billionaires are Bad for the Economy - Oxfam
Can billionaires buy democracy? - Brookings Institution
How America's Tax Code Built an Aristocracy | Washington Monthly
Effective altruism - Wikipedia
What is effective altruism? | Effective Altruism
The Rise and Fall of Effective Altruism : r/philosophy - Reddit
Varieties of wealth: toward a comparative sociology of wealth inequality - Oxford Academic
The case for a wealth tax - European Environmental Bureau (EEB)
A Blueprint for a Coordinated Minimum Effective Taxation Standard for Ultra-High-Net-Worth Individuals - Gabriel Zucman
IMAGINE PHILANTHROPY FOR EUROPE - European Cultural ...
Foundations in Europe: A comparative perspective Civil Society Working Paper 18 Helmut K Anheier August 2001 - LSE Research Online
Legitimate wealth? How wealthy business owners are portrayed in the press - Tilburg University Research Portal
Tim in Training (Tim Drake - The Eras Tour Part 2: Batman #443-454 & Detective Comics #610-#617)
Welcome back to the Tim Drake: Eras Tour! You may have forgotten about this series, but I can’t. To recap, last time we talked about his point of origin in A Lonely Place of Dying. He’s the plucky kid detective who figured out Batman’s secret and sought out Dick Grayson to become Robin again after the death of Jason Todd. A Lonely Place of Dying ends with Bruce tentatively giving Tim a conditional thumbs up to begin training to maybe be Robin… eventually.
This brings us to the Tim In Training Era, which I think is one of the most fascinating and under-explored time periods for young Mr. Drake. Both his parents are alive yet absent, leaving Tim either in boarding school or in Wayne Manor. Tim isn’t Robin, but is actively being trained for the role. Breakdown below.
Kid Detective (Tim Drake - The Eras Tour: A Lonely Place of Dying)
So I know I’ve talked before about Tim Drake and his character in the context of A Lonely Place of Dying, and how LPoD is foundational (in my humble opinion) to understanding the context of pretty much any modern Batman comic. Like, if your Batman has lost Jason Todd and carries his savior/guilt complex like an albatross, LPoD. if you have literally anything with Tim, LPoD. Simply foundational.
So I went back through it and here, in no particular order (spoiler alert: it’s chronological order) are a collection of comic snippets about about 2k of my thoughts that I think do a pretty good job of reflecting on this era of Tim, which I fondly call the Kid Detective Era.
"...Timmy...?"
Dick hasn't called him that since before Bruce disappeared, but it's the only thing he can say as he stares at his brother's broken, bleeding body.
Tim, Timmy, his little brother in all but blood, bleeding from his ears and eyes and nose, burned so severely his skin is peeling off, actually turns to look at him.
Freezes.
"Shit. No one's supposed to see this." Tim says, and Dick lurches forward to do...something. He doesn't know what, for all his first-aid training doesn't know how he can help when there's this much damage, but he has to do something.
But Tim disappears, like he was never there.
Or; On a ghosts death day, they gain the appearance they had at death. This includes the injuries.
Danny spends his death day very far away from home, since it actually makes his human form look like he got electrocuted to death by untold voltage and mass dosages of radiation, and he really doesn't want his mom and dad to see that, even if they're cool with the half-ghost thing.
Problem; apparently he's a dead ringer for someone Nightwing knows, and he just mentally scarred Valerie's favorite hero.
Fuck.
I see the vision but I also see the vision of Death Days being so much that Danny just isn’t aware of anything around him.
That is why he had left Amity, his family, his friends, and everything in between so he could safely go through his Death Day in peace. Danny had it all figured it out even!
He had scouted out this specific place here in New Jersey, in the darkest parts of Gotham, where barely anyone even went into anymore even in its decrypt state of potential!
Danny had made space for himself, carefully nesting out an area to comfortably die in, and waited.
He felt his body arch sharply, throat closing up on a scream as a burning struck itself through bone and flesh. He felt his blood boiling, felt his muscles jump and jerk, felt blood vessels pop until all he could taste is blood in his mouth and down his throat, drowned in blood through his nose, and went blind by the blood in his eyes.
His mind faltered in the throes of that pain, and he allowed himself to retreat into himself as his body began to break.
It isn’t Danny’s fault he was walked into!
He had accounted for everything!
He had even made sure to carefully board up his little space too (paranoia and the need to comfort himself through his death assuring that he was well hidden and protected in his most vulnerable state), so it isn’t really Danny’s fault that Nightwing crashed straight into the hallway of the building and floor of where Danny was staying.
It also wasn’t his fault that he had heard Danny’s gurgles and dying whines, nor was it Danny’s fault that apparently he looked horrifically similar to someone the guy knew.
But as Danny was very dead to the world as he was going through his aptly named Death Day, he was not aware of Nightwing keening in distress, dropping next to him and calling for attention from his fellow vigilantes within Gotham. Nor was he aware when Nightwing gently assured him that help was on the way, nor that he was being carefully transferred out from his little space towards the Batcave.
Tim Drake, also known as Red Robin, was somewhere in Europe, assisting an acquaintance he had made during his time traveling across countries, unaware of the chaos occurring back home. He was after all a little too preoccupied setting things on fire and disappearing into the darkness with dramatic flares of his cape.
But we can say that Jack and Maddie, in their many experiments with making a portal to the Ghost Zone, the place between dimensions, had at least one incident where they randomly got a perfectly human baby they named Danny.
And that it was Tim from another universe.
So when the bats run Danny's DNA, it's mostly corrupted due to Ecto, which is so pure it's being read as Lazarus Water, but there's also enough left to match him to Tim Drake. :)
~~~~~~
Damian, who doesn't like Drake but is well past wanting him dead, is furious. Whatever his grandfather did, whatever Drake did to his grandfather to earn his ire, this is too far.
He's spilling every single secret he can remember, every single location he can recall, every single trick in the books.
He agrees with Father's conclusion that his grandfather is involved; Drake's blood is a mix of mostly red, streaked with green. The more time passes, the more green there is.
Every time he sees Drake, it fuels his need to make his grandfather pay.
No one deserves this.
When he's not telling Father all that he can remember, he's sitting next to Dick, refusing any and all efforts to corral him upstairs.
He is Damian Wayne, son of Talia al Ghul and grandson of Ra's al Ghul, raised as an assassin from birth and with an impressive kill count of his own.
He will not shy away from death. He will do the duty Father refuses to and stand vigil.
~~~~~~
Dick keeps sitting next to Tim, trying to keep him clean and comfortable, but that's hard when his skin starts sloughing off from the severe burns.
Timmy's blood vessels won't stop rupturing, and he's gone through multiple blood transfusions. Leslie said it was like he was being electrocuted in slow motion, but it feels a lot more like he's just...rotting away.
Dick goes to pet at Tim's hair again, as gently as he can, only for a portion of skin to peel back with the hair at the slight pressure.
The noise Dick lets out isn't human, and Leslie is quick to block the sight from his eyes.
When she moves away, there's a bandage resting lightly on Tim's forehead, hiding the new wound.
He doesn't know why Ra's locked Tim in that room. Doesn't know if he'll ever get the image of Tim writhing on the ground as burns started appearing from nowhere, and his blood poured out of his face (he knows he won't).
The most he can do is be there, because he doesn't know when Tim's last moment will be, and according to Leslie, it's coming.
~~~~~~
Bruce is a whole different level of traumatized.
He's watched all his kids die. He's watched them come back in one way or another.
But this? This slow, painful decline? The knowledge that his son is still alive but slipping through his fingers and he can't do anything about it?
No.
He refuses.
He's not spending time with Tim beyond checking in on him every four hours, because once he finds a way to cure this, and he will, he can spend as much time with him as he wants.
Leslie is wrong. Tim will not die.
~~~~~~
Duke has been trying to get ahold of Young Justice. Any of them, at all.
But he's not having any luck.
He's two steps away from stealing the jet and going to Cissie King-Jones, stardom be damned, because he knows the kind of weird shit Young Justice got up to from his interactions with Tim, and they will never forgive any of the Bats if they weren't made aware that Tim was...that Tim was dying.
He needs to let them know, because it doesn't look like anyone else will.
It's what Tim would want.
Okay, also Duke knows Tim has a boyfriend but he can't crack any of Tim's security, and he can't remember said boyfriends name, so he really, really needs Young Justice to respond to him so they can tell him that.
He'd ask someone in the family, but this isn't really a good time and he doesn't feel like poking an already pissed off bear.
He'll figure it out on his own.
Totally.
~~~~~~
Cass can't stay in the Batcave.
Tim is too still; the others keep saying he's alive, but from what she can see he is not even present enough to dream.
He is already dead. His body just doesn't know that yet.
She cannot watch her brother's body decay while it still has a pulse. It's worse than her first kill, and she won't subject herself to that. It's what Tim would have wanted.
Instead, she occupies her time following Bruce's orders and taking out base after base of assassins.
She doesn't think she will find a cure, like Bruce is hoping, but hitting back the people who killed her brother gives her a visceral pleasure.
~~~~~~
Jason was just starting to be on semi-good terms with Tim. Sure, things weren't great, but at the end of the day he'd come to see Tim as his little brother.
Definitely not as close as Dick or Cass were to the kid, but close enough that he suited up and left with Cass without a word when he saw Tim...dying.
Decaying in real time.
Cass might not kill, but Jason has no qualms about regressing just a little bit.
He's going to make Ra's hurt so bad he'll wish he was dying slow and rotting like Tim.
~~~~~~
Alfred...can't do this anymore.
It was bad enough when Master Tim had the Clench, but at least then there was some real hope that Master Bruce would find a cure.
Bruce always looks a certain way when he's onto something, when he knows without a shadow of a doubt that he will not fail. That Bruce is very different from the Bruce sitting in front of the computer, eyes bloodshot and hair a wreck as he runs test after test.
Alfred has no illusions.
Master Tim is going to die this time, and there's not going to be a last minute save.
The most he can do is make himself help Dick treat Tim, help keep the lad as comfortable as he can.
The dust can gather upstairs. Alfred can order takeout on that damnable DoorDash. But Alfred refuses to be separated from Timothy any longer than he has to.
~~~~~~
Leslie, when she got the frantic call at 4 in the morning, had known it was going to be bad.
She hadn't known it was going to be this bad.
She didn't bother telling them to take Tim to the hospital.
In her kit, the one she always carries for cases like this, she has a series of pamphlets she makes sure are up to date. She had always hoped she would never, ever need to use them.
After looking over Tim, she had taken a few breaths. Braced herself.
Pulled them out.
Pamphlets for the best Hospice cares she knew.
She didn't take it personally when Bruce slapped them out of her hand. Didn't listen to him when he told her to leave.
Instead, she made herself at home, taking on the majority of the dirtiest work in keeping Tim as stable and alive for as long as she could.
~~~~~~
Tim is in Budapest, with the entirety of Young Justice (sans Cissie and Anita because they had previous obligations and wouldn't listen to him when he begged) and also Steph, currently dismantling an underground smuggling ring that they just found out is also a doomsday cult.
Because why not.
He's not talking to the Bats, because fuck them they all went out for ice cream and didn't invite him. They also didn't invite Steph, which was what led to her telling him about her smuggling ring she was looking into.
So everyone went for ice cream but didn't invite him or Steph.
And like, he knows it's because they didn't realize that he was awake, but still.
They could have at least tried to wake him up.
It was an asshole move, and Tim is justified in not talking to them.
Bart agrees, naturally. Kon isn't completely on board, but relented when Tim showed him the emergency beacon he'd taken with him, so not telling Bruce where he was going was covered cuz all he had to do was push the button.
Tim's pretty sure they can wrap everything up in a week anyways.
~~~~~~
A week later, Bruce hears the many, many monitors they have on Tim start beeping.
One, after the other, after the other.
Then, finally, the long, continuous wail of the heart monitor. It's quickly followed by a wretched scream from Dick, petering off into sobs.
He failed.
He didn't make it.
Tim is dead, and he didn't spend any time, at all, with his dying son.
Damian is whispering hoarsely in Arabic, a prayer that Bruce knows but cannot think of the name over the roaring in his ears.
He turns, looking at the wreck Ra's made of his son, the remains...that are glowing.
They are glowing.
The wounds recede, the blood disappears, the monitors, one by one, go silent.
Tim opens his eyes.
"...Uh. I'm...sorry?"
It is this, this stupid apology over something like dying, that finally makes Bruce break down and cry.
~~~~~~
Danny's confused. Danny's so confused.
What is happening?
What is going on?
Why is he being smothered by crying dudes in a high-tech cave?
Why does he feel like he just spent a week in a five-star spa?
Why is there a teleporter in the cave?
Why is Red Robin walking out of the teleporter tube?
Danny stares in an odd, mystified horror as Red Robin removes his mask...and his own face stares back at him.
For lack of anything to say to his apparently twin or clone or whatever, Danny defaults to motioning helplessly at everyone in varying states of mourning around him.
"I think I fucked up," is all he can offer.
~~~~~~
"Have we discovered what we did to anger the Detective this time?" Ra's sighed, dropping the report of the most recently destroyed bases in favor of massaging his temples to ward off an incoming migraine.
"Black Bat and Red Hood appear to be operating under the assumption that you have poisoned the Drake boy, and act under my Beloved's blessings."
"...But we haven't. Well, I haven't. Talia, did you poison-?"
"-No. No, I have not."
"Huh. Well, the Young Detective will survive, as he always does."
"I will go tell him that this is not an action that the League-"
"-No. He destroyed my bases, I, as the youth say, do not owe him shit. Let him find out on his own that he targets the wrong foe."
Okay, but what if while they're busting Ra's'es bases they are also obviously searching for the league's information on Tim to find out what they did to him. They obviously don't find out what's going on cause the League didn't actually do anything this time, but they do find a Ton of concerning things about Ra's and Tim's relationship including Tim's spleen in a jar of Lazarus water and the report of the event between Tim and the Daughter of Acheron(? Or whatever Ra's sister is called). They eventually find a report of Tim's current location and activities, but only by the time that Tim is already heading back (cause Ra's wants to duck with them for their actions) so they arrive to the Batcave about the same time as Tim.
Also what if Danny's dear day being stretched out into a week is either because he's not had to deal with it for several Earth years or means that hell not have to do so for a couple years from now? Would Danny feel like that was worth it (apart from traumatizing the Bats of course)?
The fact that he glows? and is suddenly better? As well as Tim arriving just as it happens? Do many questions are being asked. Danny is so fucking confusrd. He doesn't know these people? Why is he here? He was locked away! So no one had to see! He made sure of it! How did you even find him!?! Why did you not just dose him to the eyeballs with morphine?!? What the fuck guys?!? Are YOU ok? Like, watching that must have been bad right? Why are they now all looking at him funny?
Divk: You... You knew this would happen to you? (Heart is breaking a little. That Tim's lookalike had to hide in pain)
Danny: Yeah? I didn't want anyone forced to see that. Happens every year. So... Where? Where AM I?
Tim: I don't even know where to start? I was gone for two weeks! Ok, first, what's your name? Are you a clone? Why are they crying?
Danny: I'm Danny. Not a clone. ... As far as I know? My parents certainly have the ability to grow a baby in a tube... If I am a clone it was cause they wanted a kid but Mom couldn't have one naturally? They are crying cause they watched the horror show that is me reliving my death. Happens every year-ish? I don't know how I got here? I assume one of them stumbled over my hide away? Where I locked myself away so no one would have to see.
Consider: Danny's death day would normally only last 48 hours, but it was dragged out so long because of all the medical care they kept giving him. If they had just left him alone, he would have recovered days ago.
Danny does not know this. He thinks it has been just under a day.
It normally only lasts a day and is absolute agony; this time it lasted a week and he felt so good afterwards. Normally Danny has several days of residual nerve pain and exhaustion afterwards whenever he’s in his mortal form. Not this time. He’s relaxed and rested, comfortable in his body in a way he’s not used to.
It’s partly because he was being pumped full of the strongest of painkillers and his injuries were being treated, even if that couldn’t stop his death. It relieves the stress on his body and helps to put it in a good place for the final transformation.
But it’s also in large part because he was loved through the whole process. Even if it was because they thought he was someone else, all that immense, desperate love the family had for Tim was being directed at Danny, feeding his soul with the powerful emotions he needed to give him strength to rebuild his body.
Going through the process alone is painful because neither his body nor his soul is supported. And yes, supporting the body may make it take longer, but it’s worth it to avoid the pain and long-term damage. But supporting the soul with love is the most important thing. And you can get through it quicker without the medical care, because your body dies sooner. But it will hurt so much more.
It’s Tim who explains all this to Danny, much to Danny’s surprise. Frostbite hadn’t known this. (Halfas really are rare, and this doesn’t happen to liminals or full ghosts.) He had just said it was something Danny had to go through now and again for his living body to regenerate.
“How do you know all this?” asks Danny.
“Oh, I have a friend who’s like you,” says Tim casually.
Danny laughs a little. “It’s not the same. Can’t be. There’s only like four of us in the entire world, and we’re all more or less related.”
“That sounds like selection bias to me,” says Dick from where he’s sitting wrapped around Tim. He thought his brother was dying for a week and he wasn’t even able to touch him – he’s not letting go of him now that he has him, even if it wasn’t Tim that was dying after all. “Just because your family are the only ones you know doesn’t mean they’re the only ones.”
“OK, just stop me when I go off-track,” says Tim, leaning forward but knowing better than to try to leave Dick’s grasp. “You died, but you came back to life, but you’re also still dead. You walk the line between life and death. You have a mortal body that can eat and breathe and sh–” he glanced at Bruce “– and other bodily functions, and a ghost form that can fly and go through walls and all the usual ghost stuff. You can go between the realms of the dead and the lands of the living, but you can’t ever be fully at home in either. You have a responsibility and a task that –”
Danny interrupts before Tim can say anything more. “Okay, okay!” He huffs. “I guess you do know some–”
“Black Racer,” says Bruce suddenly. “You’re talking about Black Racer.”
“Well, yeah, him too I guess,” says Tim, “but he’s not who I –”
“Xanthe,” says Cass, who came in halfway through. Danny jumps –she’s right beside him and he hadn’t noticed her.
“Xanthe? – Oh yeah, Kate mentioned them,” says Tim. “Yeah, sounds like they’ve got the same thing going on too. But no, I wasn’t talking about them either.”
“Oh! I know!” Dick wiggles in place, wiggling Tim with him. “Secret! The ghost who was in Young Justice with you for a while.”
Tim nods with a small grin for his brother. “That’s her. She’s not just a ghost. We take a few days each year to look after her on her deathday,” he adds to Danny. “Not going to go into medical details without her permission, but we’ve worked a few things out over the years. You need appropriate medical care for the fatal injuries, you need the attention of people who care for you, and you can avoid it for a while by staying in your ghost form but then it hits worse when you next go mortal.”
“Does this happen to Xanthe too?” asks Cass, worried.
Tim shrugs. “I guess? Probably? Ask them.”
“Do you think they know about all this? Have they got someone to help them?”
“You know, you guys should all talk to each other,” Dick puts in. “Compare notes, that sort of thing.”
Tim nods hard. “I was thinking of asking Secret if she wanted to be put in touch with Xanthe anyway.” He looks to Danny. “I could give her your number too if you wanted?”
“Yeah, sure,” says Danny, rather dazed. Three more halfas? “What about that other feller, the racer one?”
“I, uh, don’t actually know him,” says Tim. “I’ve only seen him once and that –” he pauses a moment. “Well, it wasn’t his fault.”
Dick tightens his grip around Tim for a moment. “It wasn’t your fault either,” he murmurs.
“I can get a message to him, if it’s needed,” says Bruce.
(The upshot of this is of course that Danny sets up a sort of halfa support group meeting with everyone. They have all found out different things about themselves and their needs, and each halfa is unique so it doesn’t all apply to everyone, but it’s still super helpful.)
(Also, it turns out that taking care of Danny for a week during his deathday fraid-bonded the Bats to him. That’s why they trust him – and it takes them a while to notice that they ought to be trying to keep secret identities and they’re just not worried about it. He’s still bonded to his siblings as well though – as Tim is, unknowingly, bonded to Young Justice as well as the Bats. You can have more than one fraid, in a sort of Greater Polycule way.)
There’s Tim with the Bats and Young Justice, as stated. And Cass is in both the Bat-fraid and Xanthe’s fraid (which includes their ghost granny and her adoptive ghost grandson, as well as John Constantine and Xanthe’s living sister).
Bruce has three fraids: his family, the Justice League fraid, and the Justice League Dark fraid, which Constantine is also in. (Deadman is also in JLD and he probably has another fraid as well.)
So it’s more like the North American Hero Greater Fraid Bond Network.
Okay, but check out this video from mid-May 2022 of a Kestrel Dad who just kept piling up voles and mice beside his babies when the mom was injured/killed/mia’d by owls…but then watched one of his babies just swallow a lizard and went “OH. I can feed them small food!” and learned to tear it apart!
EDIT: There’s a not-zero percent chance that this could be the same dad???????? The source is the same–Robert E Fuller–but they could be different birds.
UPDATE: Not only has Mister Kes learned to feed his chicks all on his own…
….the three chicks who were taken out of the nest for intensive care after the mom disappeared were put back in, and he just started feeding them, too.
He’s a single father of six who does not possess the instincts to feed even one of his offspring, but he learned and adopted that behavior without difficulty and is now hunting and providing for six kids all on his own.
You’re a regular office worker born with the ability to “see” how dangerous a person is with a number scale of 1-10 above their heads. A toddler would be a 1, while a skilled soldier with a firearm may score a 7. Today, you notice the reserved new guy at the office measures a 10.
You decide it’s best to find out what you can about this person. Cautiously, you approach his desk. He’s a handsome man, tall, but with a disarming smile. How could such a friendly guy with such cute, dorky glasses be dangerous?
You extend your hand. “I noticed you’re new here. What’s your name?”
He shakes your hand warmly. His gaze is piercing, as if he’s looking right through you. “The name’s Clark,” he says. “So, how long have you worked for the Daily Planet?”
It’s been a few weeks, and one of Clark’s friends shows up. She’s pretty and all, enough muscle that she must work out. First thought would be that she should be maybe a 6.
Clark’s introducing her around. “This is my good friend, Diana, she’s in from out of town.”
You blink, and take a step back in fear. You’ve never seen an 11 before.
The day Bruce Wayne shows up for his long promised interview with Lois Lane, you can’t help it, the mug your holding drops from your fingers and sends a shock of hot coffee and ceramic shards across the floor.
Clark stops a few feet away and squints at you worriedly from behind those ridiculous glasses you’re 99% sure he doesn’t actually need, and asks tentatively, “Everything all right?”
You ignore him in favor of staring at the inky dark numerals hovering over the beaming fool gesticulating some fantastic yacht story for a gaggle of secretaries and minor columnists.
That’s it. Your gift has officially gone haywire. There is no other explanation. Because there is absolutely no way that Brucie Wayne is a 10.
At this point, you’ve seen it all. Miled manner reporters and billionaires at a 10 and a model-like woman at 11. You were really starting to doubt your power. The day you really stopped believeing in it was when Bruce Wayne came for another visit, and this time with a kid. The kid couldn’t be more than 10 years old, a bit on the short side.
The day you started believing in it again was when you saw on tv the formation of something called the justice league.
There were those same numbers over superman, batman, wonder woman and robin. That’s when you put two and two together. You wonder how nobody at the daily planet noticed that Clarke was Superman with glasses. You wonder why you didn’t notice. You wonder why nobody put two and two together that Diana Prince and Wonder Woman looked exactly the same. You look in the mirror as the realization hit you and you see your own number change from a 3 to a 9.
Despite this, you go about your life. You don’t talk to Clark – Superman? – and kept out of his way. His girlfriend Lois Lane – she was a five when you first met, but now she’s a nine just like you – tries to get you to interview Bruce Wayne, but you refuse. You meet other people in Clark’s group of friends with high numbers. The daughter of the police commissioner from Gotham. The forensic scientist from Central City. More and more people to avoid and worry about.
Meanwhile, your paranoia gets to you. You start working out. Training in self defense. Studying the Justice League, trying to find its members. Finding out all their identities so you can be ready.
One day you wake up with a ten above your head.
That day you get a call. You recognize the area code. Gotham. Your heart is in your throat. You should throw the phone away, run. They’ve found you. You’re doomed. You might be a ten, but you can’t beat them all.
You pick up the phone anyways.
“Hello?”
“Hey, this is Clark Kent. I was wondering if we could talk.”
Your mouth goes dry. “About what?”
Clark’s voice goes quiet. “Well. About the Justice League.”
You stiffen in your seat. Your adrenaline kicks in, and your eyes dart around the room. You can hang up, pack, grab a plane ticket to wherever and disappear. Your passport hasn’t expired, and you’ve been talking to Perry White about a vacation anyways. You could say it’s a family emergency and never come back.
But they’d find you. You know they’d find you. They’re goddamned superheroes. They can carry buildings. They could probably manage finding you.
“Hello?” Clark’s voice returns, tinged with concern, and suddenly you stop. Calm down. They’re the good guys. At least they’re supposed to be.
“Yeah, sorry, just a little shocked you–”
“Caught up to you?” Clark asked. He laughed a little, but it wasn’t teasing. His voice had his regular ease, the same casual tone he would employ to talk about the weather in the break room. “Yeah. Lois noticed your odd behavior, actually. We didn’t realize it was linked to the League until you refused to interview Bruce, and then we knew something was up.”
“Speaking of Bruce Wayne, are you using his phone? Your area code is Gotham, not Metropolis.”
Clark laughed. “Damn. Lois wasn’t kidding when she said you were the best investigator working for the Daily Planet.”
“I just notice things is all.” You laughed nervously. You still can’t shake your general unease. This guy could kill you without any effort. You’re no match for him, or for any of his friends for that matter. Hell, Batman didn’t even have powers and he’d still fuck you up.
“Yeah, and that’s a skill we could use around here. Would you like to talk about joining? Bruce can send you a car, bring you here–”
“No,” you say, sharper than you intended. “Sorry. I’d rather meet in public, if that’s okay with you.”
“Of course. Lunch or coffee? It’s still early, but it’s a bit easier to cram all of us in a restaurant than a coffee shop.”
“Lunch, I guess. And no superhero stuff.”
Clark pauses, then sighs sadly. You’ve heard this sadness before in rare amounts. When bad things happened and fear and greed overtook people, he’d always frown and sigh, like someone watching their best friend self destruct, unable to help or save them. “You’re afraid of us. Aren’t you?” His voice is concerned and hushed.
A pang of guilt starts to replace the fear. “You can throw around buildings like a sack of potatoes, Clark. Your friend is powerful on an impossible level, Bruce’s kid is a fucking eight–”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Clark said, the sadness disappearing. “You have a number system for us?”
“Look, it’s a whole thing. I’ll talk about it over lunch.” You grab your laptop bag. “Where are we meeting?”
Clark said something to someone else. “Got any restaurant ideas? They want lunch.”
Bruce Wayne – you’ve heard enough interviews to recognize his voice – said, “Saffron’s pretty good.”
“Jesus,” someone else said. You’ve heard the voice, but you couldn’t place it. “I keep on forgetting you’re rich.”
“You don’t think it’s a little much, Bruce? The pay at Daily Planet is good but not that good,” said Clark.
“I’ll cover their tab.”
“Okay…” Clark returned to the call. “Saffron, in…thirty minutes? You’re downtown, right?”
“You can get a table to Saffron in thirty minutes?” said the strange voice. “Boy, am I glad I made friends with you guys.”
“Yeah, that works.” You’re a bit hesitant, but you swallow your nerves. At least for now. Your thoughts about threat levels made you forget that Clark is a decent guy. All you could do is hope that he thinks you’re decent, too. “See you then.”
“See you then. Be safe. Bye.” Clark hangs up, and you’re left in your room. The worry is starting to turn into something different. Excitement.
You shove the phone into your pocket, grab your keys, and head out the door. You’re so full of restless energy you walk the whole way there. Once you arrive, you catch your reflection in the mirror and notice that you’re starting to suit that ten above your head.
The hostess takes you to a hidden corner of the restaurant. It’s mostly empty, as though it’s only just opened. Sitting at a long table, chatting politely, was the Justice League.
They aren’t wearing masks or uniforms, no bright colors and costumes. Clark Kent is in his usual office wear, Bruce Wayne is wearing a tailored suit, Diana Prince dons a nice blue dress, and Oliver Queen wears a nice button down. You don’t recognize two of them – a twenty something in jeans and a hoodie, a man in a green shirt, and a burly guy in a baggy t-shirt and old jeans who looks like he had just washed up from the sea. All of them, aside from Diana, are tens, of course.
Clark Kent stands, shakes your hand when you come in. “Glad to see you made it.” He introduces you to the others, and they all shake your hand quite happily and greet you like a friend. You learn that the guy in the hoodie is Barry Allen, the dude in green is Hal Jordan, and the beach dude is Arthur Curry. Waitresses, all ones, twos, and threes, come in with drinks, and one plops a mug of coffee in front of you, along with a small menu. Clark Kent gives you a knowing gaze.
Once the waitresses clear out, Bruce sits up straight. “Clark, would you rather I do the honors?” His silver watch glitters in the light from the windows.
“No, no, Bruce,” Clark says, setting down his glass of water. “I think it’s best if I ask them myself.”
Within a moment, you piece it together. “You want me to join the Justice League?”
Clark Kent cracks a smile. “How’d you guess?”
“You call me out of the blue, mention the Justice League, invite me to Bruce Wayne’s place, and then here, where you introduce me to a group of people who all look strikingly similar to the members of the Justice League.” You take a sip of coffee. “Subtlety is hardly your strong suit.”
Barry Allen laughed. “They got you there on that one.”
“Well, you’re right. At first Bruce wanted to handle the situation himself,” – you’d rather not think about what handle was a euphemism for – “but I insisted we do some more digging. We did, and what we found was…surprising. To say the least.”
You look at him oddly. You aren’t normal – no one else saw numbers floating above people’s heads – but you weren’t surprising. Your parents were the only ones who knew about your ability, and they’re long gone. You’ve got no checkered past, no odd history–
“You have powers.” Clark’s voice was clearly impressed.
“How did you find out about that?” The fear comes back, forming a knot in your stomach. “I’ve never told anyone else about it.”
“It’s not hard to notice,” Barry Allen says in between sips of soda. “Most of the information we got we got from Lois after she’s hung out with you.”
“I’ve never her told her anything about the numbers, though.”
Oliver Queen sits up, flashing you a confused look. “Numbers?”
Okay, something’s not right here. “The number I see over everyone’s heads,” you say, keeping your voice low. “It ties into how dangerous everyone is. Usually it’s just a one or two, maybe a three or four or five if they’ve got some kind of training or if they work out or whatever. Almost everyone at this table has a ten.”
“Almost?” Diana furrows her brow.
“You have an eleven,” you add.
Diana nods, smiling with a bit of pride and making an “I told you so” face to Bruce Wayne, who rolls his eyes. Oliver Queen clears his throat as Bruce and Hal pass him a couple bills.
“Ignore them,” Barry says, rolling his eyes at the three of them. “What you said was interesting – I might have to ask you a few questions on that later – but it wasn’t what I found. Remember the sensory and memory study you did when you were ten?”
You do remember it. Your parents were contacted by a scientist friend of theirs who needed kids to run a study on memory and stimuli. You remember it clearly. The large sterile room, the tests, the person conducting them, a handsome woman with a four above her head, the questions, the smell of latex gloves and fresh bleach. But you don’t remember the results. You were never told the results, other than that they were good, though with a test like that it was hard to say.
“Well, I found the tests. And they were superhuman.”
“Wait…” You couldn’t even process something that ridiculous at first. “My best friend all through high school was in that trial too, that’s how we met. She was a lot of things, but superhuman wasn’t one of them.”
Barry reached in his pocket and pulled out a pocket sized composition notebook and paged through it.
“What was the name?” Oliver demanded as you, and everybody else at the table watched Barry, but you were the only one who didn’t know what he was doing.
“Uh… oh! Me? Sorry. Her name was Irene. Irene Schumer. Why?”
Barry went back a page and then looked up from the book at all of the heroes around him and shook his head sadly.
“When did you last talk to Irene?” Diana asked gently. Too gently. Gentle to the point that you knew something terrible was up.
There was a tightness in your chest as you tried to remember. I guess it had been a while, but not a lifetime ago. You still saw her spouse posting stuff on Facebook with their kid. But now that you thought about it, Irene was always tagged in the picture, but not in them… “It’s been a few years. Maybe… nine?”
After they all exchanged a glance, Bruce said solomnly, “I’m sorry to tell you this, but we have it on good authority that Irene has been killed.”
Shit.
Suddenly the room seemed to dim and all of the Justice Leauge were looking at you, Clark even leaned towards you as if he expected you to break right there. But you had more tact than that.
“You have it on good authority? What the hell does that even mean, Mr. Wayne? Who’s authority is good?”
Clark stopped Bruce from talking and slowly explained, “Once we found out about the… nature… of the experiment, we started trying to track down the results and the participants. Something that Barry found out… well… every year, one person from the trial was killed.”
“Sorry to interject,” Hal suddenly spoke.
That was the first time you actually paid attention to him. His features were nearly as strong as Diana’s and Clark’s, but his hair was much more… shaggy?
“But we thought that maybe the reason they were being killed was because of how dangerous the testers determined them to be-“
He stopped when you snorted.
“Impossible,” you insisted, “Irene was the only fully grown adult I’ve seen with a 1 above her head. I’ve had a three as long as I can remember until recently.”
“Until recently?” Diana repeated.
Oops. Probably best to leave out the fact you were a ten right now.
“Maybe,” Clark said when he saw you didn’t want to answer, “it has something to do with the type of power it is.”
Clark seemed to be trying to put you at ease more than anybody else sitting at the table.
“A person with superhuman abilities or whatever can’t give off a one. That’s… insane,” you started arguing.
“Unless her power was deception,” Oliver muttered. He looked at Barry and asked, “how many people are left from that experiment that haven’t died, disappeared, or become incompacitated?”
He didn’t even look at the book before saying “just one”
Every eye fell to you again.
It was like someone poured something hot over your head. Your scalp burned and tingled and then it trickled down your neck and spine and made your shoulders ache until your arms tensed. You had to decide if you believed them or not. They were supposed to be the good guys, Clark seemed to think you two were friends, but some of the stuff they were saying was… ridiculous. Impossible. Inconceivable. Unbelievable. Just… You picked your coffee up and took a drink. To mask everything you were thinking.
You set it down and tried to lighten the mood by saying, “Might need something stronger.”
That pulled a few smirks out of some.
“Okay,” you sighed, “let’s say-hypothetically- I believe you and I’m willing to go along. What is… I mean, what do you want… what are you gonna do about it?”
“Well, we started with meeting up with you for lunch to see if you’d be interested in joining us. Joining our little team.”
You examined all of them. Perfect, poised, powerful, with some kind of super power- besides Bruce (you assume). You had none of that. You had a history of hapkido, a green belt in tae kwon do, and saw floating numbers above peoples heads. That was hardly as impressive as anyone else at the table.
“Why would you want me to?” You finally asked. “It doesn’t make sense. I’m not a hero. I can’t throw buildings, or fly, I’m not bulletproof, at all. That’s not a… liability? Or a bad idea?”
“None of us think so,” Bruce Wayne leaned forward.
“Mr. Wayne-“
“-Bruce,” He corrected without making much noise.
“Bruce. What do you think I have that somebody else doesn’t have?”
It was a while before he said, “Skill. Spirit. Talent. But more importantly, a calling to be part of our team.”
Destiny.
The word your grandmother had said to you everyday since your parents died until her death echoed in your head. Everything leads to your destiny, but you have to know when you’ve reached it. Was this is? Did you reach it?
You paused for a moment, your eyes drifting back down to the coffee on the table. What did you say? If you accepted their proposal — if this wasn’t just one big prank — what then? What did they expect you to do? What did you really have to offer? Nothing like this ever came for free, without consequence. What were you going to have to give up?
You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Glancing around, you could see that everybody’s eyes were trained on you expectantly. They were waiting.
Where had your confidence gone?
“I-” Your throat caught on the words. Not a good sign. You tried again, much more successful this time. “I’m going to have to think about it.” You could practically feel the whole table let out bated breaths. Disappointment and something else rang through the air like a gong, reverberating inside your skull.
“I understand,” Clark Kent, a man you’d known for over a year now, nodded as he sought to relieve the tension in the air. “It’s a big decision to make. I trust that you’ll make the best one.”
“Yeah,” Barry agreed. “I mean, my entire life changed the day I decided to become the Flash.” Your attention — and your head — snapped in his direction. So that was who he was? Your realization must have been clear, as he had made eye contact right after saying it with an upturning of the corners of his mouth that read something like: Oops… Well, too late now.
Diana spoke next, “Yes. The life of a hero is very different from that which you have known so far. You must make this choice for yourself.” Sincerity breached her face as she leaned slightly forward in your direction. “But I firmly believe this — the Justice League, with us — is where you belong.”
Your eyes roamed around the table at everybody who had not yet spoken, taking in the malcontent clear on many of their faces. Guilt pinged in your brain against your will. No, you weren’t allowed to feel guilty. You had as much of a right to deny their offer just as you did to accept it. Besides, you didn’t even refuse yet, just extended the deadline.
You didn’t fail to notice Hal, Bruce, and Oliver’s silence, but right now the anxiety latching onto you was more concerning. Discomfort was racing up your spine and you couldn’t help but be reminded of the values that floated up above everybody’s heads; By agreeing to meet this group of people, you had knowingly put yourself in more danger than you had ever been in before. You rose to your feet and addressed the table once more.
“Thank you for your offer. As you understand, there is a huge choice in front of me and I need time to consider it more.” You nodded at them, receiving a few nods in return. “I will contact you with my answer soon, after I think about it.” You glanced at the two that you knew how to talk to — Clark and Bruce, of which the former was probably the best option — before turning away and taking careful, measured steps past the empty tables in this section of the restaurant.
As you approached an archway that led to a busier part of the restaurant, someone — was that Oliver? — spoke up. “Wait a second, we’re really just going to let them go? Just like this? They know our identities, you can’t tell me that’s not dangerous.”
A different voice this time, one you couldn’t quite make out. “Why wouldn’t they accept? This is a chance of a lifetime and-”
The words faded into obscurity as you got closer to the entryway.
There was so much for you to think about, so much for you to consider. What kind of changes would there need to be if you accepted? What about your friends and family? What would this mean for them? How much would you need to lie to them about this? What would happen if you told the truth? Would they be safe? How much danger would be in store for you? How much danger was already in your life? Your mind wandered to the notebook that Barry carried; Obviously, there was already a lot in store for you if everybody else was-
Your thoughts wandered to Irene. Somebody that you had known for so long and now she was dead. What of the others on that list? All of them were dead too. All of them were kids that you had met back when you were ten. Just kids. And to think that they had been dragged into this just because of something their parents signed them up for? That they were just kids when they were condemned to this fate? When they were sentenced to death? That didn’t settle right with you.
Your feet never carried you any closer to the entrance. Injustice and anger and courage welled up inside of you, replacing the fear and anxiety and uncertainty that had been there before. This was the chance of a lifetime, something that would most likely carry you toward your destiny; you couldn’t just walk away now. Especially when chances were that you were the next target of whoever was behind this. You had to do something, if not for yourself then for all of the others that didn’t have the opportunity to protect themselves. Something was stirring inside you that made you turn in the other direction.
Somebody must have heard your brisk walk back toward the table, because all of them, all of these superheroes, were looking at the doorway when you came through. Fear no longer rose up when you saw these people again; you were a ten too, just as dangerous as almost all of them. You could handle yourself. This was what you were meant to be doing with your life, you could feel it. You stood at the end of the oblong table, next to where you had sat previously, and took a deep breath. Determination coursed through your veins and when you opened your mouth, you spoke the words that changed the course of your entire life:
“Screw this whole ‘thinking about it’ thing… I’m in.”
Arriving at the watchtower was an experience that I will never forget mostly funded by the enigmatic “Brucie Wayne’s” wealth. You wonder if how much of his number is derived from this wealth. Or if it purely his skills and intellect granting a ordinary human such a high number.
“This is the control room where league members are coordinated around then globe” explained Clark.
“Given the fact that I have no outstanding combat abilities this is were I would be assigned?” you ask.
You’re a regular office worker born with the ability to “see” how dangerous a person is with a number scale of 1-10 above their heads. A toddler would be a 1, while a skilled soldier with a firearm may score a 7. Today, you notice the reserved new guy at the office measures a 10.
You decide it’s best to find out what you can about this person. Cautiously, you approach his desk. He’s a handsome man, tall, but with a disarming smile. How could such a friendly guy with such cute, dorky glasses be dangerous?
You extend your hand. “I noticed you’re new here. What’s your name?”
He shakes your hand warmly. His gaze is piercing, as if he’s looking right through you. “The name’s Clark,” he says. “So, how long have you worked for the Daily Planet?”
It’s been a few weeks, and one of Clark’s friends shows up. She’s pretty and all, enough muscle that she must work out. First thought would be that she should be maybe a 6.
Clark’s introducing her around. “This is my good friend, Diana, she’s in from out of town.”
You blink, and take a step back in fear. You’ve never seen an 11 before.
The day Bruce Wayne shows up for his long promised interview with Lois Lane, you can’t help it, the mug your holding drops from your fingers and sends a shock of hot coffee and ceramic shards across the floor.
Clark stops a few feet away and squints at you worriedly from behind those ridiculous glasses you’re 99% sure he doesn’t actually need, and asks tentatively, “Everything all right?”
You ignore him in favor of staring at the inky dark numerals hovering over the beaming fool gesticulating some fantastic yacht story for a gaggle of secretaries and minor columnists.
That’s it. Your gift has officially gone haywire. There is no other explanation. Because there is absolutely no way that Brucie Wayne is a 10.
Oracle: [over the comms] the teams are all in position. Things are quiet so far.
Batman: Hm. Ok, thank you Oracle. I’ll check in on them. [switches over to Nightwing and Robin’s frequency]
-
Nightwing: -nd I’ve already bought it! You need to socialise more; this is an important part of your childhood.
Robin: No.
Nightwing: It’s so cute, though. You’ll look adorable!
Robin: [with feeling] No.
Nightwing: [huffs] At least try it on; I already paid for it.
Robin: I am NOT going trick-or-treating.
Batman: …[switches over to Orphan and Batgirl’s comms]
-
Batgirl: -so then I said “you put that hand anywhere near me again I’ll break it off” and he-
Orphan: B is listening now.
Batgirl: oh, hey B. Anyway then we had sex and he had this-
Batman: [cuts off the feed before he becomes even more traumatised] …
Batman: …ok. [tunes into Red Robin and Red Hood’s frequency]
-
Red Hood: [in a fake posh voice] the handyman?!!! How could you DO this to me Dolores?!
Red Robin: [in a high-pitched voice] How could I?!! How could I NOT?? You married your office long before I ever fucked Juan-Eduardo!
Red Hood: Don’t you DARE put this on me! I knew I shouldn’t have hired that ridiculously good looking sonofabitch!
Red Robin: Hah! Well that wouldn’t have stopped me from sleeping with CHAD!
Red Hood: NO!
Red Robin: [Triumphantly] OH YES
Red Hood: NO! MY BEST FRIEND?? WILL THE LIES NEVER END DOLORES??
Red Robin: YES! And let me tell you- he was SO MUCH better than you. He-
Red Hood: YOU’RE TEARING ME APART DOLORES
Red Robin: [breaking character] nice one
Red Hood: thank you
Batman: [over the comms] what are you DOING?
Red Robin: Hi B. There’s a couple in the building across from us who’re having a huge fight. We’re giving them voices.
Red Hood: [in his fake voice] Look at all these papers! These papers that I’m waving around! Look at them!!
Red Robin: [as “Dolores”] Well if you love your papers so much why don’t you MARRY THEM?
Red Hood: MAYBE I WILL
Red Robin: I HATE YOU! I have always hated you! and what’s more- I HATE your MOTHER.
Red Hood: [gasps] MY MOTHER IS A SAINT AND A GIFT TO MANKIND
Red Robin: YOUR MOTHER IS A DECREPIT OLD WHORE
Red Hood: I WILL- DON’T YOU WALK AWAY FROM ME DOLORES
Red Robin: [hisses] Whenever the Mets play, I wish they would lose.
Red Hood: [gasps] YOU BETRAY ME LIKE THIS?? ME -the man who obviously bought every piece of Mets Merch known to man and display them in every room of our apartment like a tool?! HOW COULD YOU??!
Red Robin: Well what are you gonna do about it? HUH?
Red Hood: WHAT AM I GONNA DO? I’LL TELL YOU WHAT I’LL DO! I’M GONNA TAKE THIS GUN- [breaks character] Ohmygod he’s got a gun! Shit fuck moving out
Dolores is fine. Her husband has literally never used a gun before and having two of Gotham’s vigilantes barging into your apartment is (unsurprisingly) a compelling deterrent against criminal behaviour.
Red Robin tells Dolores she deserves better than this even if she banged Juan-Eduardo (this confuses her).
Red Hood spends a good half hour explaining to her husband that “SPORTS!” is not a interior design choice before they hand him off to the GCPD.
It takes three cups of chamomile tea to calm Dolores (“my name is Samantha?”) down while Red Robin and Red Hood passionately inform her that she is a strong independent woman who doesn’t need no gun-toting workaholic husband (she vaguely tries to explain that her husband isn’t a workaholic). Red Hood is adamant that Dolores should get in contact with a women’s shelter to get support and Red Robin pats her hand and tells her that he really likes her curtains and they both agree that any man who thinks papers are more important than a woman’s love isn’t worth her time.
Dolores doesn’t quite know how to process all of this and finds herself floundering slightly at the presence of two masked vigilantes. Her hostess manners finally wins out but she’s also in shock and ends up offering to make them a pot roast. They politely tell her that maybe she should get some rest but Dolores rallies and insists that having dinner is the civilised thing to do at 3 AM after a near death experience.
Batman has a small aneurysm when he realises that one of his teams have entirely abandoned ship and is now getting drunk on port with a middle-aged housewife and lamenting about “assholes who don’t know how to treat you right” with heavy bat-themed undertones.
Dolores has a lot going on at the moment. She’s dating the baker, and they are still shy and cute around each other. His toddler likes her a lot, but she can’t pronounce her name so she calls her “Sammy”, something Dolores find insanely precious.
Work has picked up, but she doesn’t mind working late because she always feel safe walking home after dark. Every now and then she catches sight of a vigilante on the roofs, and gives them a wave and a smile. Once, she waves to Nightwing and he waves back so enthusiastically that he almost steps of the edge of the roof by accident.
The media eventually sniffed out that she had met Red Hood and Red Robin in person, and they show up to interview her en masse. She firmly closes her door in their face and tells them that they are being very rude. Most of them give up soon enough, but Vicky Vale keeps hounding her for details. Finally, Dolores humours her by giving a statement. She tells Vicky that yes, she did meet them, and they were both perfectly nice boys with good manners that don’t deserve to be villified by the media, thank you very much. Vicky, with a glint of iron in her eye, asks whether Dolores really thinks that it’s good for citizens to take the law into their own hands. Dolores purses her lips and looks down her nose at Vicky with the sort of contempt that only wealthy housewives ever truly master, and tells her: “I think it is good that someone takes the law in hand at all.”
She has also picked up contact with her sister, Margaret, who lives in San Francisco. Margaret is thrilled that Dolores finally dumped her slob of a husband, and is lobbying for Dolores to come live with her and her hubby, a man who is surprisingly nice for a banker, and who would probably fight Superman for his wife (though he would really prefer that his wife didn’t pick a fight with Superman). Dolores thinks this is sweet, but unnecessary, and tells her sister as much, so Margaret and Hubby comes to visit instead, and spends a week making her feel simultaneously fond and exasperated with their coddling. After hearing the full story about Dolores’ exciting break up, Margaret takes every opportunity to tell her social circle in San Francisco about how great superheroes are. She is determined to supply the Teen Titans with baked goods (“children needs to eat, Milton! They need treats baked with love!”), a mission that Impulse wholly approves of. Dolores comes home one night to a message on her door reading “the lemon squares are delicious, please ask her to make more -RR”.
Margaret, who, you might have noticed, is slightly more intense than her sister, recruits a bunch of society ladies to start a baking club to keep up with the demand (i.e. Impulse). She even manages to send a care package to Red Hood at one point, through means best not discussed around company.
Meanwhile, Dolores is feeling happier than she has in a while and is thinking about taking some college classes at night to further her education. She wants to work with interior design because she might not have good taste in husbands, but man can she pick out a chaise lounge.
hey uh new type of ao3 spam comment just dropped. (I know it's spam because the fic they left this comment on . doesn't have chapters. lmfao). Report this kinda comment as spam and don't take it personally it is literally recycled bullshit
Danny starts as a low level intern in Wayne Industries and is very concerned when people keep referring to him as Tim and keep asking him to sign papers and attend meetings that aren’t remotely in his job description.
will Danny at the very least know what he's doing? like will Tim come to the office a week later seeing no time sensitive work in his email because when Danny does something? He. Committed. He started this and he's gonna see this through? Will Danny get a job/promoted after this? Lol
danny accepts his fate until tim can escape what is essentially his grounding. tim walks into his office and his assistant just stares at him like she needs the biggest raise on the planet only to spot danny at his desk doing paperwork like a pro. when they make eye contact there is silence for a solid minute before danny just lets tim know he has a meeting with shareholders in 10 minutes and asks him if he wants a coffee to which tim obviously replies a tired 'yes'
It would be doubly hilarious if he wasn't even actually an employee.
Like. Maybe he was just in Gotham on vacation or something and was passing by the building just as the assistant (who was running late due to all the scrambling around they had to do in Tim's absence) was heading in, and just got yanked in because they assumed that Tim had decided to come in after all.
Then he just stuck around both to commit to the bit and because he had nothing really better to do.
...Or to make it even funnier than that, the reason he was there was because he was heading into an interview at the Wayne corporation, only to be told he didn't get the job. So he was dejectedly walking out when the assistant arrived and just yanked him right back in.
So he is staying half to commit to the bit, half out of spite.
So when Tim returns he gets an actual job, generous backpay, a fruit basket and/or ticket to the planetarium, and then Tim and the assistant go and yell at the person who refused to hire him in the first place once they find out about it (Danny gets sent on another coffee run in the meantime in order to save his ears from the furious shrieking about to be unleashed on whoever made that poor decision)
Tim definitely does a thing where he’s like. Fuck it. Why not I’m finally resting, and signs off papers to give Danny the ability for his signature to have the same official weight as his own signature. Yeah that makes the Board of Directors mad when they see a different signature signing off on various documents
Okay, everyone explains Tim and Danny's likeness as twins separated at birth (after the clone theory had been debunked).
I raise you a: "The Fentons adopted an abandoned alternative universe version of Tim Drake during one of those times the Fentons stumbled into different dimensions during their early ghost hunting days".
Yeah, this theory is even more chaotic than usual, but here's the idea:
So, the Fentons were canonically really weird even before the ghost portal opened, and at least the fanon has latched onto the idea of Jack sending the house to another dimension at least once while Danny was in kindergarten. Which makes it quite likely that said Fentons ended up visiting several alternative universes during their early ghost hunting days (and probably didn't even realize they did).
-.-.-.-
Jack, Maddie and a tiny Jazz were investigating some old ruins rumored to be haunted. They weren't, but the place was a liminal area where several universes overlapped during the right phases of the moon.
Meanwhile we have this alternative universe where the Drakes somehow are both slightly better and much worse parent to tiny toddler Tim. For some reason they actually brought him with them on one of their archeological expeditions (going to those weird liminal ruins) but then promptly forgot that they had and left the kid to wander around on his own.
Tiny Tim toddles around and looks at interesting rocks, waiting for his parents to come back. He's used to waiting and doesn't find it unusual to be left on his own, but he's starting to get hungry now.
The sun sets, the moon rises, and universes overlap. The ruins being the subject of a daytime archaeologic excavation in the Drakes' universe now blend with the abandoned ruins being investigated by ghost hunter Fentons during the night.
The Fentons finds a tiny toddler curled up beneath a broken statue while silently crying. As far as they know the ruins are completely abandoned and in the middle of nowhere, and yet there's a child there. They obviously can't leave the kid in the ruins and takes him with them back to their camp (after making sure he isn't a ghost).
In the morning the Fentons try to find Alt!Tim's parents, but obviously can't since they're in another universe. Tiny Tim is too young to speak clearly and doesn't even know his name properly, so he's not much help. They end up calling him Danny since he answered to that (truthfully Alt!Tim just reacted to their tone of voice) and from now on he's known as Danny).
The hunt for his parents is nothing but dead ends, but the tiny quiet kid grows on the Fenton parents, plus Jazz is ecstatic about having a little brother, so in the end they adopt him.
Danny is a Fenton now, and his strange origin nothing but another quirky anecdote among the other weird things that have happened to the Fentons. No one thinks anything much about it, until Danny moves to Gotham and meets the local Tim...
How the heck will they untangle this extremely weird set of coincidences? Will the bats ever let go of the clone theory? Will an extremely exasperated Danny finally head over to Clockwork and ask him WTF is up with him sharing DNA with Tim Drake?
This is a brilliant development! The shenanigans will be top tier, especially if the parallel dimension thing means that Danny registers as Tim by pretty much every form of objective testing. Personality wise is a different matter though, as while they may be technically the same person they were both raised in very different environments.
I feel like this concept works best with the Fentons as mostly good parents. Still obsessed and oblivious, but fully including the kids in the research madness and trying to be supportive parents in other areas in their usual overenthusiastic way. It makes for a nice contrast with the Drakes who seem to have been less keen on the parenting part of being parents, leaving to chase their obsessions far away from home.
So Danny turned out with better social communication skills and far less drive. The Fentons are overenthusiastic where the Drakes are absent, creating very different sorts of pressure to push against.
Danny's adoption has never been a secret. Not even the potential dimensional travel part of it. But none of the Fentons have any concept of normal anymore so when he notices Tim he's only mildly curious about the example of what his life might have become in a different world. Mostly he has better things to do with his time, until the identity confusion gets started.
Alright, fuck it. There's too much good stuff hidden in the reblogs and branches of this post. I'll go and copy-paste all the good stuff you'll miss together into one post.
I'm not adding what's already been posted above this post, but everything else is in chronological order.
-.-.-.-.-
@plotwholls added:
“This is a file with all the stuff I had to sign, don’t worry, Bruce knows—”
“Bruce knows?”
“Bruce knows— this is everything I was able to put off signing, this is all the personal stuff ‘you’ got told, this is the legal ass-covering that my friend helped me with, and this is your schedule. I pushed back anything vital but non-time sensitive. Board meeting is about me. You. Here’s all the paperwork proving that I never said I was you, never claimed I was you and never tried to lead them to believe I was you, that they assumed, the legal ass-covering for you and Bruce on that front, and since you’re going up with Kennedy from Legal, then I thought you’d like to know they’re all gonna get served for harassing me.”
“Is Bruce helping?”
“Oh absolutely he is, he’s so excited.”
“Of course he is.”
-.-.-.-.-
@zeestarfishalien added:
I’m picturing after a while of Tim using Danny to escape tedious duties cover for his nightly activities, Danny is becoming Concerned™️ by how many important decisions he’s making.
He totally understands and emergency situation where the boss is sick or whatever but “please, sir, understand the stress I am under for being responsible for so many people and if I fuck it up thousands could be out of a job and there’s no repercussions for me bc I don’t have any stake in the company.”
Tim, the ultimate problem solver replies with, “Okay, here’s x number of shares in the company.”
Danny: “this…is not what I meant sir”
#dp x dc #Danny is now Stressed™️ #Danny: I just wanted you to handle the company-wide change things #Tim: *who has an actual semi-regular sleep schedule for the first time in years ignoring Danny* Have I told you how awesome you are?
-.-.-.-.-
@ghostreblogging added:
Like what if he was actually good at it. Since he was the ghost king and was used to dealing with obsessive people and reading between the lines on bunch of important documents
-.-.-.-.-
@ashoutinthedarkness added:
With danny looking so very much like time, that also means that tim looks like Danny and that there could be reciprocated chaos in terms of mistaken identities XD
=====
Why was danny in Gotham? Was he moving there? Is this after high school? Or did he have to leave town before then (reveal gone wrong/everyone is gone)?
=====
Imagine Sam running into tim at a gala and calling him danny and getting upset that he hadn't let her and Tucker know he was ok (maybe also that he managed to escape the GIW?), that they had been freaking out bc it had been so long, but don't worry bc Amity is fine and Val has it taken care of, and she's so glad he's ok though she's surprised that he let himself get adopted by Wayne though he 'must not be as bad as the frootloop' but then her parents are coming over and so she shoves an extra phone that she had on her (bc just in case) and tells him its the usual password and to call either her or Tucker once he's in the clear and to not worry bc it'll work in the zone
And tim is like.... ??? 'Was this how danny felt?' And then starts to process what she's saying and then starts to freak out.
#danny phantom #dp #dp au #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dc #danny fenton #tim drake #wayne enterprises #danny looks like tim #sam manson #mistaken identity
-.-.-.-.-
@crazy-pages added:
Eventually Danny gets shot right after getting out of work. And Tim rushes outside to find Danny's very aggrieved ghost beating up a mugger. And Tim's soul just about departs his body. For several reasons.
But then Danny reinhabits his own corporeal form and explains things to Tim. Who needs therapy (even more than he already did) and also a coffee and a nap (even more than he already did). But they get talking and at some point Danny explains that Scarecrow has actually been a ghost this whole time, seriously, he saw the guy on a rampage once and his ghost sense went fully off. Also the Penguin was too, yeah specifically the ghost of an actual aggrieved penguin possessing the body of his former cruel owner. Danny dealt with it during his off time, it was a whole thing.
So now Tim has to deal with the fact that Gotham is actually fucking haunted and there's no way this lookalike isn't also getting adopted into his vigilante life too and he can also see how that goes.
... he kind of wants to know if Jason sets off Danny's ghost sense.
-.-.-.-.-
@ghostreblogging added:
Omg what if he is walking through Gotham in a disaster and Tim is knocked out. And any batfam member is like wtf what are u doing. You need to help right now and Danny is pushed into doing a little bit of vigilante shit
-.-.-.-.-
@talafairy added:
Just imagine when Dani shows up to vist Danny, sees Tim and Danny and with a shit-eating grin says "hey dad" infront of the batfamily. Oh the chaos!!!
-.-.-.-.-
@omnicrafts added:
On one hand, having read Red Robin, Tam Fox would never confuse some poor sap for Tim longer than an "Oh thank god there you are I-" Before she clocks this man as Not Time Drake because when you get dragged around the world and deal with literal Super Assassins with a guy you just know things.
But Also I feel like Tam is so fed up with chasing this man down that she would absolutely just take a body double. Especially a body double that isn't going to fake murder her dad and not tell her about the plan or make her play the worst game of where in the world is Tim Drake?
She was going to kill him. For real this time, even though that was something she muttered every time Tim vanished into the shadows to do whatever crazy thing he was caught up in. Her father had given her numerous tips on how to deal with a Bat, and at least Tim didn't play up the air headed playboy like his father. Tam counted her blessings where they were because lord knew this man was taking years off her life every hour.
Juggling the phone that was propped between her shoulder and ear, Tam counted to ten while the investor ranted on about his valuable time; as if he mattered enough for Tam to remember his name once she'd hung up and jotted down the details of his complaint. The contracts she was sorting through as she walked were also a decent distraction. "Yes, yes, of course, I-" When the line went dead, Tam wanted to scream.
When she opened her eyes and spotted just the man she was looking for, she did scream. Well, yell, it was more a sharply raised tone honestly, a fraction of the volume she wanted to use but appropriate for the current setting.
"Tim! Finally, if you don't get back to-" A year and a half of keeping up with Tim Drake-Wayne had vastly improved her ability to assess and recalculate a situation. The man who was shaking hands with Tim's three pm conference attendees was not Tim Drake-Wayne. Tam could forgive the poor secretary, who had started to hurry him along to the next meeting, given the striking similarities. Build, facial features, charming smile that was just a touch nervous.
But Tam knew Tim Drake-Wayne better than probably anyone else these days. His bright blue eyes were the wrong shade and too vibrant, even if they held a similar bone deep, weary sadness to them. There also wasn't an ounce of recognition in them. Quiet resignation instead of the playful spark that never failed to set off butterflies despite that ship having sailed already.
Barely a minute had passed, but it felt like longer before Tam made a decision.
Fingers wrapped around the man's wrist, she pulled him away and made a mental note to look into how whatever this was happened. Not-Tim followed without resistance and a heavy sigh.
"Who are you." Tam demanded once they were standing in front of Tim's office and mostly away from listening ears.
"Ancients, finally." Not-Tim ran a hand through his hair before rubbing the back of his neck, the same habit Tim had when nervous or caught red-handed. "Danel, Danny Nightingale, I work in the engineering department. Three days ago, I was coming back from lunch when this herd of interns swarmed, and it just kept escalating. Oh, oh good, I see you found the stack of 'please I'm not qualified to make changes or sign these.' papers."
So many people were getting fired or retraining.
"We can make this work."
"I don't like where this is going suddenly." Good, he had a healthy amount of awareness to him. That was good, he would need it.
"Three days?" When he nodded, she took a breath and let it out slowly. "So you're the one responsible for the restructuring of the Wilcox contract and the bid against Lexcorp for the Brownstone contract?" Danel gave a sheepish nod and rested his hands on his hips. It might have been an intimidating stance if his posture wasn't drooped like a scolded child. He was kind of cute like that.
Focus, Tam, now was not the time.
"We can make this work." It would serve Tim right and teach him a lesson about running off without telling her anything. They had a system! It could be a bad idea, but he'd done an incredible job outfoxing Lexcorp, that project was an incredible opportunity to improve the smaller clinics around Gotham. Goldburg had looked charmed beyond belief, leaving the conference room moments ago. That man was impossible to get along with. "This could work."
"This has to be some kind of Identity Fraud. Not Theft but like, someone else stole the identity and made me hold onto it. I can't possibly look that much like this Tim guy."
"Stick with me, Danny, we have work to do."
"Do I get a say in this?" Danny said as he followed her into the office anyway. Obediently, he sat down at the desk and looked forlornly at the stack of papers and then to the coffee pot.
"Nope! Don't worry, I'll make sure you're properly compensated for your work." Tam answered, starting a fresh pot of coffee. Just like Tim, the similarities were piling up, and it was a little eerie. While the coffee brewed, she sent the alert message to Tim's phone about the doppelgänger. "I can reorganize the schedule, so you're not making any hugely important choices, save those for Tim.
"Now, there is, so much to do." Tam set down the cup of coffee and watched him knock the drink back like it wasn't steaming.
"Guess we get started then." Danny laughed as Tam refilled the cup for him.
By the end of the day, all the urgent things Tim had been putting off were taken care of. Yeah, this could work.
#dpxdc #mistaken identity #went with the Dan-el idea from that one kryptonian myth post #Sprinkle on a little but of Older brother Danny and not hint at it in this drabble at all #Danny is Tim's older twin brother but he was a sickly baby so he was put up for adoption #Danny has no idea he's adopted #He's about to find out when Tim gets back! #Tam is so tired of Tim's shit okay #Technically she's doing damage control #contain the look-a-like and monitor him #give this woman a raise she's been through so much #she and Danny are gonna become besties. #Danny still adopted Kon and Match and Bart #All as Phantom so they don't know he's human too and looks like Tim #prompt fill #drabble
-.-.-.-.-
@thatrandomsarahchick added:
Ok but then imagine Tim forgot to tell the board, so they get all worried and confused until someone does some digging and finds out about Danny. Then they get mad, coz they realise they've been duped.
-.-.-.-.-
@welcometosasakiworld added:
I can imagine Danny sorting out a bunch of paperwork when out of nowhere Tim in the Red Robin costume appears and takes off his mask.
Tim taking off his mask and putting it inside a closet inside his workshop, he finds civilian clothes to wear.
Turning around he sees Danny standing there looking blatantly shocked.
"Oh shit…."
-.-.-.-.-
@that1randomnerd added:
Danny: *makes sure no one else is there* *transforms into Phantom* I won't tell if you won't
-.-.-.-.-
@britcision added:
Okay but you KNOW this means at least once Tim asks Danny to go out as Red Robin too
Months after this chicanery begins, with Danny as Tim’s established work double, they’ve done the accidental reveals
Tim gets The Nastiest Flu
And as bitches like Tim do, refuses to rest and recover and tell the bats he won’t be patrolling
NO
Come hell or high water, Red Fucking Robin is taking the streets
He threatens to go full Jason if Bruce fights him
Gets all the way into costume
Grapples to a roof
Nearly collapses
But Like. FUCK. Is he ever gonna admit they’re right.
Cue Danny gets a sudden text at 11pm summoning him to a rooftop emergency and y’know what? Fuck it, he’s not busy
He finds Tim, tells him off for being a stubborn bitch, but Tim threatens/begs/bribes him to help him save face with the family
Hell, Tim promises to stay in bed for a WEEK so long as he can do it at Danny’s and Danny takes patrol today
And flips off the other bats as he grapples past
Danny, Professional Little Brother, agrees
Silly changing montage because I CAN
The rest of the bats, fully expecting to find Tim passed out in an alley, are all stunned to see him practically flying from roof to roof
(Look no one ever taught Danny how to use the grapnel he’s doing his best)
-.-.-.-.-
Then a bunch of people left awesome tags:
#IT GETS BETTER
#IT GETS BETTER AGAIN
#this is the best thing ive read #i love when little ficlets get created by tumblr #like everyone just contributing little bits and pieces#and making something awesome #id love to read more of this! #dp x dc prompt #danny phantom fic #tim drake #danny phantom crossover
#okokok I am here for this sm #how far does Danny go to be Tim’s doppelgänger #and the thick plotens
#absolutely love this au and every time i see it got a new addition im just mwehehehhehehehhehehehhehe #danny phantom #dc comics#dp x dc #dc x dp #danny fenton #tim drake #red robin #reblog
#i love no one even in the batfam knows about tim #tims at home with a mic and camera so he sees and hears everything danny sees and hears #and he just feeds him info #weather it be case stuff or something to get bruce off his back #and they sound the same so it works #i think they got a solid six month before someone catches onto something#and they only do becuase the were fight goons and they swear to go tim got shot but he is fine?????
#jfkgkhzldhl Danny literally flying because he doesnt know how the grappel works
-.-.-.-.-
@goddess-of-graphite added:
Listen when you find a twin in the wild doppelgänger you can’t just not pretend to be each other at least once
-.-.-.-.-
Then I (luxpurplishgreen) and @bookwyrmie added our posts, and now we're all up to date!
Keep writing from here folks!! The spontaneous round robins are the best! 🖤
@stealingyourbones prompts tend to grow bit by bit and it's a shame to not collect it all in one post.
Collection Post Update – Danny is mistaken for Tim at work AU
This story thread just keeps growing. Great work people!🌟
It's time for an update to the collection post...
I've gotten better at these posts and have decided to not individually tag one-line additions most of the time, since there can be a lot of those. If you want to keep an eye on a post thread like this, remember that you can subscribe to the post instead of asking for tags.
-.-.-.-.-
First there was some nice feedback tags from: @stealingyourbones @wolfjackle @luxaofhesperides @ostrich-recs @ashoutinthedarkness @flopy-hana @magicalgirlcrazycatlady @keimiwolf @summerfox1988 and @09shell-sea09
#I truly appreciate you tagging everyone for their work their did thank you #hell yeah collection post #and the thick plotens
#dpxdc #danny fenton #tim drake #identity shenanigans #it got better! #all collected into one place #this is perfect #love it
#dc x dp #long post #fic #ooooh now i wanna write for this prompt. such a fun idea!!
#dpxdc #luxpurplishgreen doing gods work #tim & danny #danny fenton #tim drake #tam fox
#AAAPDMFNROSLSNF!!!!! #its all together!!!! #danny phantom #dpxdc #dc #timothy drake #danny fenton #danny looks like tim #danny is alternate universe/reality tim #adopted!danny #mistaken identity #body double #danny pretends to be tim #danny works at wayne enterprise #compilation
#dude. i give to you the title of archivist. thanks
Reblogging to share this chaos with the world!
#long post #like really long #but i love it so much
#danny phantom #dc comics #dpxdc #it got put together!#someone did their research and I’m glad it wasn’t me
So thank you for those tags!💜
-.-.-.-.-
Then some real new content got started by: @ameliandil
This is very interesting to me! I’m not sure how Danny would have nothing better to do, but a bit of universe jumping could possibly help with that! Or if he’s taking online classes mostly in Gotham. Or dealing with a ghost problem there.
-.-.-.-.-
@brierburrbrito added:
This is all made so much funnier if we assume Danny is in Gotham due to a summoning and just doesn’t know how to get back because he doesn’t know which universe he’s in.
-.-.-.-.-
@unordinarywarlord tagged:
#so many good additions #i love them all #though i think Danny as Red Robin substitute is hilarious #it probably only works because Tim is sick #because Danny and Tim fight differently since Danny is a cunning brute force it kind of way and Tim is more of a strategic fighter #dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp #dcxdp
-.-.-.-.-
@jenny-green-teeth tagged:
#long post #dpxdc #danny fenton #tim drake #considering both their dads are named jack im surprised no one pulled an au jack thing #so they're technically half brothers who happen to be the same age #one got obsessed with ghosts and one got obsessed with old shit #fan fic
-.-.-.-.-
@purpletigerss added:
I've seen observations that Tim's unhealthy childhood habits probably stunted his growth. They look identical until you put them next to eachother and Danny's bigger.
-.-.-.-.-
@fanspecies added:
I love this. Do Sam, Jazz m, and Tucker get involved as well? Also why can I see Tim also being Danny.
Like let’s say the GIW have a hunch he’s phantom and that’s why he’s on the run. So Tim decides to help and gets “captured” and they do a blood test, and since he’s a alternate version of Tim the DNA is like 99.9% the same and like oh theres no ectoplasm in his blood.. oops sorry.
The Danny as Phantom comes in and saves Tim and since they’re in the same place at the same time they drop the case and continue to look for clues on who Phantom is. Thankfully Tim helps take the GIW along with their friends. And now Sam, Tucker, and the rest of the Fentons are able to visit Danny when they want to. And when the Fentons meet Tim they include him in the family like they did with Danny and Dani. Which makes the Batfam jealous that Tim is getting along with them.
-.-.-.-.-
@mygood-bitch99 tagged:
#long post #lmao #tumblr ficlet #can this be counted as a group project? #collective writing :)) #dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc prompt #dc comics #danny phantom #danny fenton #tim drake #writing prompts #i adore this so much!!! #?ﾟﾒﾕ? #i shall save this and cherish it forever! #please tag me if there’s another addition to this!!!
-.-.-.-.-
@one-damned-fool tagged:
#RIP other branch #lost to the tumblr jungle
And Same. Poor other branches.😢
But that made me wonder. Is it really alright for me to copy-paste content like this? It's not like I could message every single contributor and ask for permission, and I try to credit everyone, but I'm not sure if anyone will get annoyed that their linked post additions aren't shown?
I wish there was a way to re-arrange whole post chains when rebloging. :/
I made an edit to my post before the first Collection Post on just this theme:
“Edit: Dammit, this post has branched. Knew I read a longer version before. Check the reblog list for so much more content.
Is there any way to link together sprawling branched posts like this?”
And @ashoutinthedarkness answered me (but they don't seem to have a solution either...):
Dude I wish there was. If you could somewhat arrange the order of the reblogs too (maybe have a symbol or something to show that they're not in the order they were originally?) You could combine the branches and make compilations easier (without having to screenshot and tag)
===
Ok, but the idea of Danny being an alt. Tim is kinda great and tragic bc it means that either way he's kinda doomed to neglectful parents (whether his parents are by birth or adoption) and to being exposed to the realiving juice (ectoplasm vs lazarus water - are they the same? Different?) (tim was exposed to the pit right? Haven't read the comics so I have no idea).
#danny phantom#dp#dp au#dp x dc#dc x dp#dpxdc#dc#batman#danny fenton#tim drake#danny is tim from an alternate dimension/universe#danny is adopted by the fentons#there are now two tims#and both have previous experience with clones
-.-.-.-.-
@meira-3919 added:
I think Barbara knows... I mean, she's Oracle!
Oracle finds out, but Danny and Tim bribes her to keep silent, plus it's good blackmail, she won't pass that up!
#Barbara Gordon is in the loop!
-.-.-.-.-
Then @cyrwrites @autisticamerican and @justagirlinacape added some encouraging tags:
#dp x dc #holy shit this thing is on fire #alternate universes
#dp x dc #danny fenton looks like tim drake #long post #like REALLY LONG #but worth the read tho #i promise
#danny phantom #dc comics #dp x dc #dp x dc prompt #absolutely incredible #wonderful work everyone
-.-.-.-.-
@thatgaydemigodnerd added:
Tim, before the batfam find out about Danny, organizes a charity event. He promises some of the local Gotham heroes will be present and he has word from red robin personally that he will show up.
Bruce knows of course, he helped Danny sue everyone for harassment, he's in on the joke.
Dick, Damian, Babs, Jason, Duke, Steph? They know of absolutely nothing.
During patrol that night night wing is chastising red robin about potentially giving up their identities! How dare you say such a thing you can't be in two places at once!
Red robin just smiles and asks if night wing can make it to the event or not.
Cue the event and red robin is there, as promised, standing next to Tim, shaking hands with his personal assistance right behind them.
(Tim is in the suit and Danny is going as Tim, but people don't know that)
Red Robin gives a very convincing speech about fighting crime by going down to the root and facing societal inequalities, Danny (fully according to script) says that Wayne industries is planning on building better infrastructure in the poorer areas of Gotham, including funding better healthcare facilities and offering job opportunities to those in need.
Dick still cannot figure out how Tim pulled this off but he's given up at this point. If you can hide a missing organ who says you can't have grown a clone in 2 weeks without telling anyone
-.-.-.-.-
@the-infamous-only added:
I need to know If Alfred is in on the joke. That would make it so much better, everything wise.
He is literally in charge of everyone's health he'd have to know. He would figure it out on sight.
Does he cover Danny's ass on injuries that should take him off patrol? Does Danny get invited to Family breakfast or dinner?
Just two Tims sitting side by side at the table. Nothing odd going on here. Does Alfred also call him Master Tim, just to stir shit?
While the rest of the kids try to figure out what the hell is happening. Speaking to Tim in one part of the mansion and finding him again in minutes doing something entirely different, like just returning home.
#and the thick plotens #Tim is still a teenager and will do some batshit pranks on his family #dpxdc au #dp x dc #dc x dp #danny is such a mood #danny phantom au #danny fenton
-.-.-.-.-
@iconicanemone and @mug-of-shark tagged:
#I absolutely love this and all the different paths this took
#i #i don’t know much about batman or danny phantom but like #i would genuinely love a fic of this
-.-.-.-.-
@catwithmanyhats added:
If it goes the 'Tim from another dimension' route if they ask Danny if he was adopted he should just drop 'Yeah, my parents found me near a dimensional portal.'
#dp x dc #the fentons did not care #they confirmed it was not a ghost portal #so it is not interesting #free kid!
-.-.-.-.-
@moonkat78 added:
Skipping back/ forwards several steps, Danny originally applied for an engineering job, but also as a passion project down the line mounts the aerospace division of WayneCorp + nerds out about the Watchtower and routinely does external repairs in ghost form, giddy he gets to experience the cold vaccum of space. Space is the one area where he hisses possessively if Tim tries to have an opinion about the large company-scale decisions.
But, and I can not stress this enough, Danny comes at it from a :sparkle: science :sparkle: point of view and collaborates on research with various international space agencies. Plus, ya know. The JL, GL corps, and whoever else. This isn’t a Musk/ Bezos situation.
Danny builds Jason the Outlaws another ship/ upgrades and he and Arsenal aren’t to be left alone together. The generated goodwill rubs off on Tim.
-.-.-.-.-
@leafbracer98 added and tagged:
Everyone else: what is Red Robin doing out? Tim you have a cold!
Duke, who can see “Red Robin” glowing bright green: hey what the fu-
#Tim texts him not to ruin this for him.
#Tim just thinks Duke can somehow see through the disguise
#Duke thinks Tim made a deal with the devil or something. #depending on if Tim knows about Phantom
#Danny just catches Duke by himself and asks him not to tell.
#If Tim does know #Danny decides to pull poor Duke through a rooftop to beg him not to blow this #and Tim promises Duke he will do his post patrol paperwork AND homework for a week
#Duke is morally conflicted but also hates his history teacher and doesn’t want to do her boring essay. #so he agreees #they never tell anyone #even after Danny is introduced to the family #even after Phantom is revealed to be Danny
#Leaf Speaks #dc x dp #danny phantom #DC
-.-.-.-.-
And that was all of it for now! 🖤
Now go forth my fellow lovers of shenanigans and do the writing thing again.
@luxpurplishgreen bowing and scraping you people are the backbone of modern society
But Tim meeting dani! He'd be so confused, why is this one a girl??! What kind of cheap cloning tech was used?? He has better stuff in his basement!
Dani: what
Tim: nothing.
And DAN! Tim probably wouldn't meet him but Danny tells him about him (and Tim shares about Gun Batman), and the idea of him, Tim, having the right dna to outclass local industrial fridge Jason Todd, is just insane.
Danny and Tim arguing who would win in a fight between gun batman and dan. Dani does not have nearly enough information to pick a side and switches between them mid argument so she can join in.
Danny: Dan literally killed off the justice league!! He killed batman!
Tim: okay?? He's not special. Gun batman, on the other hand, would not even need to. He is a much more cunning villain, and his methods are much more horrific.
Danny: nah nah nah not the point - Dan would absolutely wipe the floor with gun batman he would just posses him and -
Tim: please gun batman is immune to possession we've been trained against it -
No one has mentioned yet how Danny could eventually figure out duplication, and then there could be three or more Tims/Red Robins at once. If the Batpham are unaware of what’s going on, I like to assume that they think Tim has realized the potential cloning gives for doing ALL THE THINGS all at ONCE
Ooooo lets say he does, big issue though, organ donors are SUPER hard to come by and Danny’s DNA was fused with ectoplasm.
So would the organ instantly be rejected because of the ectoplasm or would Tim’s body accept it and kinda change him a tad? The spleen works with filtering the blood after all… that’s a BIG part of his body to be altered if it affects his bloodstream.
but also what if tim was exposed to the pits before? like while fighting ras pit water got splashed on him (ik unlikely) or when he was a kid, what if he explored gotham and found those pits (is that cannon or fannon?) or maybe his parents brought him to excavation sites that had natural ectoplasm
idk but i think it would be funny if they test the compatibility just for Danny to freak out because of the ectoplasm in his blood only for it to come back as the best match tim could ever get, ectoplasm included
Copied parts from this post: https://www.tumblr.com/p0ssym1lker/704527273129328640?source=share
"Jack, on the other hand, pulls an uno reverse on Bruce. Bruce thought he was adopting a black haired and blue eyed teen with angst issues. Nope! Jack now has a new reclusive rich best friend! They're family, practically brothers! You want to run for Gotham mayor and end city crime? Anything you say B-man!"
-.-.-.-
Because how did we miss the sheer comedic potential of Jack Fenton deciding that Bruce Wayne is his new BFF? Forget bad parents Fentons. They did an one-eighty once they found out Danny was Phantom. Decided to be super supportive instead - and when Phantom befriends other heroes this suddenly is everyone's problem.
They're especially enthusiastic about the bats (maybe Danny or Jazz is dating one of them?) and Jack glomps on to Bruce.
Like Jack is enthusiastic, and he can't take hints. He is in Bruce's personal space. He slaps him on the back. This totaly-not-a-meta picks him up and hugs him. The grumpy goth in Bruce doesn't know how to handle this! He is having a crisis!
Jack knows about Batman, and still does it to Bruce (B finally managed to enforce some boundaries while he is in costume, but it was fraught). How did this happen??
No one in the Justice League/Wayne Industries seems to know much about their colleague Danny Fenton. Every time he opens his mouth, he tends to leave everyone in the vicinity with more questions than answers. That is, until they were put on lockdown.
Daniel J. "Call Me Danny" Fenton was. Odd. An excellent employee. Incredibly bright. But Odd.
That he stood out as Odd in a place like Gotham was notable.
He’d joined Wayne Enterprises last fall, during the time Bruce was “dead” and Tim was “CEO”. Tim had been a bit too preoccupied with not getting assassinated or letting Hush take over WE to worry about all the new hires, so he didn’t officially get around to meeting Danny until months after the fact.
Now Bruce wasn’t dead, Tim wasn’t CEO, and Danny was still here.
“Tim, Bruce, meet Danny. He’s the new lead on the experimental engineering sector of R&D,” Lucius had said, introducing what was to become the subject of Tim’s newest obsession.
Tim hadn’t known it at the time; at the time, Danny had just been another black haired tech in a lab coat and goggles. Someone Tim would have to learn to work with and around, now that Tim was going to be the assistant head of R&D under Lucius.
The first thing Danny had ever said to Bruce (and Tim, who was standing right next to Bruce at the time), was “I always knew you’d come back some day.”
Which was support that would have been nice for Tim to have had months ago. But, no matter.
Tim did nearly have a minor conniption when Danny continued with, “You got back just in time,” but maybe it was just a turn of phrase. He couldn’t possibly know Bruce had been lost in time and almost died for real in the process of getting him back.
But it was the first of many strange…encounters.
—
The first incident that Tim Actively Noticed as Odd was about a month after Tim had first met Danny.
"Hey Mr.Fox, Mr. Wayne. Mr. Drake-Wayne,” Danny had said, breezing into the very private meeting they were having in the third office on the fifth floor that only existed to give Lucius, Bruce, and Tim a place to meet while at work.
It was nowhere near the R&D department, where Danny apparently “lived”. Metaphorically. Maybe.
How he found them there, Tim wasn’t sure.
“Did you want that moonlander prototype ready for the board meeting this afternoon or are we pushing to next week?"
"Moonlander Prototype?" Said Bruce.
"Board meeting?" Said Lucius.
Danny blinked, squinted, and scrunched his nose, in that order.
"Oh. Have we not had that conversation yet?"
"I think we can assume no."
“Right. Different time-line.” Danny backed out of the room without turning around. “Um. Let's pretend this didn't happen, okay?"
There had been some kind of crisis they were dealing with at the time, but Tim had noted in a passive way that it was. Well. Odd.
—
The next Odd Thing had been some time later.
Danny had walked up to Tim so silently that Tim hadn't heard him at all until he spoke.
"Ahh, so that's how you do it," he'd said.
Tim had whipped around, wondering what Danny had seen. He'd technically been working on stuff for his Night Job, but it wasn’t something that was apparently obvious…unless you knew every project inside and out. Like Danny.
Still, Tim had played dumb. Which didn't come easy.
"How I do what?"
"Well, I've been wondering how, legally, you get away with designing things for. You know." Here, he put his fingers up on top of his head, as if to imply bat ears. "I've seen tons of stuff on the servers that the locals don't use, but unless they work here I wasn't sure how they got the designs. But it's enrichment and plausible deniability all wrapped up into one, right?"
"What?" Said Tim.
"Like, they can have access to any designs they can hack into. So you can design things for them without actually designing things for them. I've been wondering how to send my stuff over. I have ideas, you know."
"Huh?"
Danny clicked his tongue and shot him a finger gun.
"Exactly. But hey, if you wouldn't mind looking over my stuff, I'd love your input. I don't usually have to worry about people dying or falling to their death, so I might have overlooked something."
Tim had gone to look at Danny’s stuff, because he was curious.
It was good. And he wanted it.
Technically, he could just access it directly from the WE server, but Danny was expecting someone to hack into his account to get it and he said 'he'd know' if it happened.
Tim, by this point, had every reason to believe him.
He'd thought he could hack it no problem. As it turned out…it was a challenge. More importantly, it was fun. It'd been a while since Tim had had fun, he realized, which made it all the sadder that hacking into his co-worker's account to justify making use of the designs made for him probably said a lot about Tim.
Nothing he was prepared to admit though.
—
There were other things, too. Easily explained away but which had accumulated into a Pile of Things Tim Couldn’t Ignore.
Like the overheard ("overheard") FaceTime between Danny and two other people.
"For the last time, Sam, I know you wanted to come to Gotham, but according to Clockwork the timelines where you become Ivy's protégé all begin with you living here! Besides, you secretly love undermining Lex, don't pretend otherwise."
“You just say that because Evil Me is so much hotter than Evil You,” said Apparently Sam.
"I thought we decided Danny can't work at LexCorp because Lexy would definitely want to study him like a bug?” said Voice Number Three.
"As if we’d let that happen, Tucker,” said Sam. “Anyway, Mercy is incredible, she could do so much better than Lex. I’m gonna flip her and/or marry her."
“Well I get to work with the Stones, DILF and RILF” said Tucker, “so who’s really winning here?”
“Me, obviously,” said Danny. “But we’re all breaking rule number two.”
The other two people, based on context clues alone (as well as Tim’s totally justified research into Danny’s background), were Sam Manson, the Ethics Board Lead at LexCorp; and Tucker Foley, Head Programer at S.T.A.R. Labs Detroit.
Tim had investigated Danny for weeks after that, convinced of either corporate espionage or an evil plot.
All he found was a private group chat with a pinned set of rules: 1. We don't talk about work 2. We don't talk about or fall in love with our co-workers 3. We don’t talk about NB1-7 4. Vladposting hours are always
There was the incident where Danny, somehow, single-handedly prevented DalvCo from buying 50% stock in WE. Literally. All it took was a handshake and the deal was off. Which was good, because although Tim was sure the buyout was somehow illegal, he couldn't find evidence.
There was the time he walked up to Jerry from the mail center—one of the criminals Bruce had recruited off the street as Batman—and told him right in the middle of the break room, "your brother is proud of you for stepping up and changing your ways for his kids, and he's sorry about the tooth incident."
Jerry burst into tears and hugged Danny. Danny somehow left the situation with the broken break room microwave in his custody and thirty unreformed Gotham Goons on speed-dial “in case he needed literally anything ever, no questions asked, just say Jerry the Salamander sent you”.
Tim had watched the security footage from that day thirty times. He still wasn’t sure when the microwave even broke, much less how Danny ended up with it. There was some kind of glitch in the video.
It wasn’t obviously Danny’s fault, but by this point Tim was starting to suspect any strangeness in the building had something to do with Danny.
—
It all came to a head on what should have been a normal Tuesday, for what counted as normal in Gotham.
The whole WE building was on lockdown because of a ‘mysterious pathogen’ making employees exhibit odd symptoms, like floating, duplication, and general peevishness. Because of the unknown nature of the pathogen, the floors had been sealed off from each other and the outside.
Tim, much to his chagrin, was stuck in R&D, which was to say: The Basement.
Where Danny just so happened to be as well.
The only good thing about being stuck in the basement with Danny aws that Tim, hopefully, might have a chance to Study Him Without Interruption.
Somehow, Danny seemed more mildly inconvenienced than worried.
“She always does this,” he grumbled, pulling up a program on his computer that was definitely not part of WE’s IP.
“Who always does what?” Tim pressed, desperate for answers.
“Spectra,” said Danny, green matrix-like text scrolling across the screen. “Good thing Technus owes me a favor.”
With an ominous click, a cube on Danny’s desk that Tim had incorrectly assumed to be raw material started to move, slowly unfolding itself to a nine foot tall behemoth not unlike what one might see at a mecha convention.
“I AM TECHNUS,” said the Robot, arms charging with some kind of green…vacuum power? In his hands? “MASTER OF WORKPLACE SAFETY AND CLEANLINESS.”
“What?” said Tim.
"He doesn't normally say that," Danny mumbled, sounding disappointed.
It wasn’t until after the whole thing was sorted out—the source of the virus having been some sort of interdimensional being? Apparently? —that Tim had the chance to ask : “Where did the robot come from?”
“From the broken microwave, obviously.”
“Why did you make a mech from a microwave?”
Danny had looked at Tim like he was the unreasonable one.
“Everyone knows you send a robot to fight a pathogen. They come preloaded with antivirus software.”
My third eye is opened and I have reached a stage of enlightenment that's leaving me GIDDY. Holy fuckin shit.
Danny own SPACE GAMES~☆🎇✨️🌠
"Yeah, obviously?" you say, a little confused.
But stop an THINK about it. He can go INTO games! Doomed is a glitchy, limited, online mmo. Not some single player triple A. There are Space Simulators.
Sandbox games where you explore the galaxy.
Literally NOTHING stopping HIM from becoming a game developer. Hiring tech ghosts. Alien ghosts. Alien TECH ghosts. And producing an underground hit.
Sitting in the virtual, on an alien planet, in his space suit and just... listening to the wind. The pattern of toxic rain against the habitat.
The sense of PEACE he must feel? Just turn on creative mode or pick a peaceful sandbox game and just? Get to work. Terraform a planet. Built a settlement. Farm in a habitat on Mars. Slip into some VR game and just? Hang out on the orbital space station.
I can't even put it into words? How emotional I am kinda getting? Just imagining him step through a screen and onto alien grass. Just a big old peaceful field of alien flora, beneath an alien sky. No responsibilities. Just Space.
Getting to explore the cosmos and still come home. Not having to choose between Amity and the stars. Making some little habitat with knickknacks and a bunk, that he can just go hang out in. Listen to the sounds of an alien world. Sleep in a far off galaxy and be home for breakfast.
God he would GLOW. His joy would overflow.
The only thing I'd honestly worry about is his Obsession and the Fenton Family Fixation Tendency kicking in. Getting addicted to serene, seretonin-producing Fantasy, over stressful, anxiety-producing Reality. It would be understandable. And something to look out for.
Because it wouldn't even be insidious or malicious action. Just the nature of "this one is calming and feels nice" vs "this one is stressful" would do it. Who WOULD want to leave? But... you gotta balance. Because you aren't just ghost. You can't just wrap yourself in Space like a safety blanket. No matter HOW soothing and awesome it is.
But good God is he gonna have SO much practice for his eventual lair. Bet his virtual Bases are IMMACULATE.
You know? I just had that very thought? Cause imagine? Like 50 hours in... you're building your Sweet Base on this planet when?
The fuck? There is another player? But you're not ON multi-player right now? But he's cool. Super excited by your base. Really helpful. His Player ID looks funny but whatever.
You have a great time.
Post a picture of you and your New Temporary Buddy (cause the friend menu was Hella glitched, it said you were on single player). There is no way your ever gonna be able to find each other again. But? Best couple hours of play you've had in a while! Dude was awesome!
And?
The internet blows up? You get called a faker? The fuck? Others say you're super lucky? The FUCK?
You have no idea what's happening.
Then you find out?? It wasn't a player. Or it IS but might be a dev. No one knows. You met some sort of cryptid. And they memed with you. Built your sweet base together. You watched them try to pet an alien wolf, fail, get chased... then fall off a foot tall ledge into a lake. It was some loony tunes shit.
And? The same guy? Shows up EVERYWHERE? But only in space games... and I quote "if they're good".
There are forums that apparently try to track where he shows up. They wanna know if they can use your photo. Sure?
Game developers are trying to insert the dude into their games as an Easter egg. But he got "ripped out" of the latest cash grab, loot box simulator so hard it crashed the servers for a week? They tried to patch him back IN but somehow he got ripped out AGAIN. Replaced with a sign that read "No."
No one can figure out if it was publicity stunt or not.
And it's just? One of those "you lay awake at night and want to shake people and show them your conspiracy board like a crazy person, but also both EVERYONE and NO ONE has apparently heard about it???" Mysteries? No one KNOWS what's going on. It's gonna HAUNT ya. We move on an lol at some memes.
Honestly? I would LOVE it, if Danny never realizes he's just? RUINING the mental health of these poor souls with his lack of closure. He literally ghosts them. Only to show up, somehow in a DIFFERENT game by DIFFERENT developers, who have absolutely no crossover to the last guys. And there is never a reveal.
No YouTube channel plug. No "check out my upcoming movie or game!". No viral advertising ANYTHING. He just shows up, fucks around, has fun, and bounces. Breaking the rules and how the game FUNCTIONS the entire time.
You watch him eat an apple. Knowing damn well those are set dressing and non-interactable. Then he waves, walks past the invisible wall you can't go past, and just? Vanishes. You make a noise that concerns those who love you.
The question is, does Danny go in as Fenton? Phantom? Both so there's actually 2 Space Game cryptids and people start wondering if there's some related lore between them?
ho, there is so much material to do a one shoot on a steamer in full live on the brand new game released less than a week ago, and which falls on Danny, all the chat is curious and surprising but a very small handful know that it's THE cryptid that drives people crazy in ANOTHER game! They MUST make the streamer very confused and focused on giving a show to follow the guy and ask him questions!
Ooooh! I could so easily visualize that? Just the stream going? "???" And "npc pog?" Or some emotes except for a few hard core Space Gamers who just?? Lose Their Shit(tm).
Like IMMEDIATELY drop money so they WILL be heard! "YOU! It's the ASTRONAUT CRYTPID! How!? Follow him!! Get his ass! We demand answers! Don't lose him!"
And they are just? Shouting over each other in the chat? Walls of text? Links. Furious and excited emotes. Because finally. FINALLY! They got his ass ON A POPULAR STREAM! Witnesses! Vindicatiooooon!
Now SHAKE HIM TIL ANSWERS DROP OUT!
And everyone else is like? That's... a LOT of frustration and emotions there, my dude. You okay? Wanna drink some water? Touch grass?
NO. They want ANSWERS. Follow him! Take their money!
And the streamer is like? Okay, now I am curious AND concerned. Let's ball. And goes up to Danny. Does the Crouch Jump of Greetings(tm). Because this game doesn't even HAVE a voice cha-
"Hey, dude! Nice to meet you too!"
Wut.
Again the chat explodes. Confusion. Speculation. Memes and emotes. But mostly? The Space Gamers going "SEE!? Cryptid! How is he DOING that?!"
And like? The stream tries voice chat. On stream. Nothing. So the best he can do is communicate silently. Listen to this Astronaut Cryptid respond. And like? He tries to keep the stream light. Follow the games plot. Just with Added Cryptid.
But his video editor has been franticly emailing the game developers and just held up a sign. No. There is DEFINITELY no "astronaut npc" or multiplayer function thats glitched. This game is singleplayer and always will be, why?
Then the Astronaut gets a message? Steps to the side to check the most sci-fi looking phone you've ever seen. Pulled from one of the pocket on his space suit. Th...Those OPEN?! There is STUFF in there!? How!? The coding for that would be-!
He has to go. Home base called. It was fun, flying with him. Keep exploring!
The the Cryptid just? Walks behind a pillar and is GONE. He tries to check the area. Runs into an invisible wall before he can GET to the pillar.
not to mention that people who watch and who already know the cryptid must also send messages and links to the streamer's stream and to all the other people who are ex-witnesses, speculators, etc., so there must have been like three, then there's more about twenty, then they continue to arrive even after the cryptid has left
They end up trying to organize themselves to buy download keys in bulk to get group discounts and recruit other spectators to buy the games with them and to spread the word about their strange cryptid
My third eye is opened and I have reached a stage of enlightenment that's leaving me GIDDY. Holy fuckin shit.
Danny own SPACE GAMES~☆🎇✨️🌠
"Yeah, obviously?" you say, a little confused.
But stop an THINK about it. He can go INTO games! Doomed is a glitchy, limited, online mmo. Not some single player triple A. There are Space Simulators.
Sandbox games where you explore the galaxy.
Literally NOTHING stopping HIM from becoming a game developer. Hiring tech ghosts. Alien ghosts. Alien TECH ghosts. And producing an underground hit.
Sitting in the virtual, on an alien planet, in his space suit and just... listening to the wind. The pattern of toxic rain against the habitat.
The sense of PEACE he must feel? Just turn on creative mode or pick a peaceful sandbox game and just? Get to work. Terraform a planet. Built a settlement. Farm in a habitat on Mars. Slip into some VR game and just? Hang out on the orbital space station.
I can't even put it into words? How emotional I am kinda getting? Just imagining him step through a screen and onto alien grass. Just a big old peaceful field of alien flora, beneath an alien sky. No responsibilities. Just Space.
Getting to explore the cosmos and still come home. Not having to choose between Amity and the stars. Making some little habitat with knickknacks and a bunk, that he can just go hang out in. Listen to the sounds of an alien world. Sleep in a far off galaxy and be home for breakfast.
God he would GLOW. His joy would overflow.
The only thing I'd honestly worry about is his Obsession and the Fenton Family Fixation Tendency kicking in. Getting addicted to serene, seretonin-producing Fantasy, over stressful, anxiety-producing Reality. It would be understandable. And something to look out for.
Because it wouldn't even be insidious or malicious action. Just the nature of "this one is calming and feels nice" vs "this one is stressful" would do it. Who WOULD want to leave? But... you gotta balance. Because you aren't just ghost. You can't just wrap yourself in Space like a safety blanket. No matter HOW soothing and awesome it is.
But good God is he gonna have SO much practice for his eventual lair. Bet his virtual Bases are IMMACULATE.
You know? I just had that very thought? Cause imagine? Like 50 hours in... you're building your Sweet Base on this planet when?
The fuck? There is another player? But you're not ON multi-player right now? But he's cool. Super excited by your base. Really helpful. His Player ID looks funny but whatever.
You have a great time.
Post a picture of you and your New Temporary Buddy (cause the friend menu was Hella glitched, it said you were on single player). There is no way your ever gonna be able to find each other again. But? Best couple hours of play you've had in a while! Dude was awesome!
And?
The internet blows up? You get called a faker? The fuck? Others say you're super lucky? The FUCK?
You have no idea what's happening.
Then you find out?? It wasn't a player. Or it IS but might be a dev. No one knows. You met some sort of cryptid. And they memed with you. Built your sweet base together. You watched them try to pet an alien wolf, fail, get chased... then fall off a foot tall ledge into a lake. It was some loony tunes shit.
And? The same guy? Shows up EVERYWHERE? But only in space games... and I quote "if they're good".
There are forums that apparently try to track where he shows up. They wanna know if they can use your photo. Sure?
Game developers are trying to insert the dude into their games as an Easter egg. But he got "ripped out" of the latest cash grab, loot box simulator so hard it crashed the servers for a week? They tried to patch him back IN but somehow he got ripped out AGAIN. Replaced with a sign that read "No."
No one can figure out if it was publicity stunt or not.
And it's just? One of those "you lay awake at night and want to shake people and show them your conspiracy board like a crazy person, but also both EVERYONE and NO ONE has apparently heard about it???" Mysteries? No one KNOWS what's going on. It's gonna HAUNT ya. We move on an lol at some memes.
Honestly? I would LOVE it, if Danny never realizes he's just? RUINING the mental health of these poor souls with his lack of closure. He literally ghosts them. Only to show up, somehow in a DIFFERENT game by DIFFERENT developers, who have absolutely no crossover to the last guys. And there is never a reveal.
No YouTube channel plug. No "check out my upcoming movie or game!". No viral advertising ANYTHING. He just shows up, fucks around, has fun, and bounces. Breaking the rules and how the game FUNCTIONS the entire time.
You watch him eat an apple. Knowing damn well those are set dressing and non-interactable. Then he waves, walks past the invisible wall you can't go past, and just? Vanishes. You make a noise that concerns those who love you.
The question is, does Danny go in as Fenton? Phantom? Both so there's actually 2 Space Game cryptids and people start wondering if there's some related lore between them?
My brain says phantom? Just so no one puts together he's Danny and goes "dude... The Fuck? Explain." But ALSO? I can not see him NOT messing up?
Cause he wants to be DANNY the astronaut.
So in the distance? You'd see Danny. But by the time you get close? Phantom. Or he notices you and disappears.
There would def be theories. ESPECIALLY since they "look alike". Twins maybe? One friendly, one shy?
The question now is? If we were to make this a cross over? Which Hero would come across the space games Cryptid?
I feel like adult Heros wouldn't take this "seriously"? Because there's not enough proof that's someone "trapped in the virtual"? But young justice or the teen Titans totally would?
But they ALSO don't know shit about the games out side of like... one of them. So imagine trying to rescue somebody while constantly trying to relearn the Rules Of Reality as he jumps to a different game. The disorientation of being pulled out of one game by a machine or magic user and then put back into ANOTHER so you don't lose his trail.
The people outside trying to throw off the mentors as social media is blowing up with mentions of their "cameos".
Danny potentially oblivious until the literal last second. AFTER the Heros have worked themselves into a desperate fit. Terrified this poor guy is Losing His Grip On Realityyyyy~(tm) (oh noooooooo D:>) and will be Trapped For Ever(tm) if they don't get to him soon!
Like? Uuuuh actually, no, he's gucci. He can hop off super easy at literally any time. Are... are you kids okay? You seem winded and upset. Vaguely singed. Want some snacks in his sweet space base? What's going on?
(Is this what Clockwork feels like when HE shows up? Holy shit.)
The thing is though, people's perception of what Danny looks like is still limited to the graphics of the game. Which means most of the little details that make faces unique are probably lost. So he could be going in as Fenton and as long as the game doesn't render faces in hyper-realism, it wouldn't be traceable back to him specifically. He'd just be a random blue eyed black haired white teen.
And that's assuming he appears as a human with a visible face/body. As opposed to a full space suit. Which is what he'd most likely have if his form automatically shifts to match the game's character models.
Of course, his "character model" would still need to have some unique features. Customizations that straight up aren't available to anyone else (which at least for the first game he appears in would further cement the theory he's a Dev). Without those unique and consistent feature, people probably wouldn't realize that he was the same "character" between different games.
Hmm... now I'm thinking about what those features would be. Obviously color palette. And Phantom has his symbol. But what does Fenton have?
Knowing him? An ACCURATE spacesuit. He's going to Space~☆. Forget your ridiculous sci-fi looking silliness! He wants his NASA Approved suit.
Which? Would add LAYERS? If he never takes off the helmet outside of habitats? For realism of course. But? That's Some Astronaut(tm).
The games are haunted by a young looking black haired astronaut.
Did he die? Is this him living his afterlife among the stars? An AI? Like in in SUPER realistic games? Danny is still in a most of the hair and body covering outfit? The most they'll really get is Caucasian and blue eyes. Dark hair, maybe black, going from the eyebrows.
And then there's Space Ghost. Whose just? Zipping around in some sleek outfit? With a white crest on his chest.
I would LOVE? Seeing like? Actual astronauts and officials being asked? Looking at this clip compilation of some "game cryptid" and going? "Holy shit, that's flawless protocol. No for real. That's an astronaut."
Because? How many times in comics do they get exposed to Mysterious Space Rays(tm) or something and get powers? Have they checked in with everyone? Checked their records of the deceased? It's not... COMPLETELY impossible? That on an ill fated flight, someone got hit with Space Whatever, became a Meta, was panicking and stressed as everything burned, and instinctively to "go home".
Maybe missed. Got stuck. New power fuck ups and all that.
Shit. Has he been STUCK??! What agency is he with!?
Meanwhile, Danny: *is vibing* he he~ yeeeeh. :3 am doin a Space✨️ look at my proper lil suit. Is OFFICIAL and FANCY and I'm in SPACE~✨️ HECK YEAH~♡
Question, is Danny still visibly young? Is there a level of graphic detail where you can actually tell; no, this isn't just a short and scrawny adult astronaut, this is actually a kid. All baby fat and kid proportions.
What do people think when they learn that their perfectly accurate astronaut cryptid of space games is a very young teen?
Given the Fenton Brick Shit House Build? And the likelihood of him only having TIME to do this after high-school? He'd be 18+. So he would FOR SURE look old enough and jacked enough.
Cause? Baby face or young? Impossible to tell! He's got the height, the muscle mass, and the gear. So odds are better then not, right? I mean, if you saw them... are you going to assume a ghost in 14th attire is a historical reinactor? Or someone for the 14th century? That LOOKS and ACTS like an astronaut.
An American astronaut, specifically.
He COULD have been in training? But like... yeah, they're pretty sure.
