Bruce Wayne wakes up in the past, five months after Jason Todd died, and spends most days sat beside the grave because he never found out exactly when Jason had come back and he wanted to be there to save him when he did.
From an outside perspective, everyone is extremely concerned.
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i love the idea of the batfam wearing each other's merch cause like. i know they'd be petty about it. usually they'd wear their siblings merch in (kinda) equal rotations, but they'd change it up depending on sibling squabbles or sibling favours.
Tim, walking into the kitchen in a Red Hood shirt:
Dick: TIM!?
Tim: what
Dick: it's Tuesday. you always wear Nightwing merch on Tuesdays.
Tim: oh.
Tim: you stole my last granola bar, last week.
Steph, looking for something in Jason's room: JASON WHY DO YOU HAVE EVERYONE'S MERCH BUT MINE?!
Jason, peeking into the room: i have your merch. in the trash.
Steph: WHY
Jason: you hit me with a blue shell in mario kart last game night. i'm never forgiving you.
Damian, sporting a full-on Red Robin hoodie:
Tim: woah. what brought this on? you usually only exclusively wear Batman or Nightwing merch
Damian: you helped me take that splinter out of Alfred's paw yesterday. Richard on the other hand has recently messed up my painting palette.
Dick, from the other room: IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!
Damian: he'll get over it.
Cass, wearing Nightwing merch for the 5th day in a row:
Jason: goddamn. what did Dickie do to get in your good graces like this?
Cass, smiling: he made me a flower crown
Jason: ... that's it?
Cass: it was a very nice flower crown.
Dick, buying seven Signal shirts: One for everyone.
Duke, behind him: Dick, you really don't--
Dick: shhhh, sunshine. everyone will love your new merch.
(they all wore exclusively Signal merch for a week straight)
Bruce isn't allowed to change up his rotation or not wear someone's merch because he immediately gets accused of playing favourites. He'd rather keep some of his sanity, thank you.
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Thinking about the newer bats (Duke, Cass, Steph, Tim) speculating on Jason's age because he looks like a recently divorced 30 y/o but he's younger than Dick, and he acts like a 50 year old man (he still has a Nokia, out of the loop on Internet and pop culture, primarily listens to dad rock), and after they've exhausted all their guesses Dick breezes in, informs them he's like 24, and then leaves.
The bats then have to come to terms with the fact that Jason was NINETEEN when he took over the criminal underground.
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Fanfiction in the late 2000s-early 2010s was wild bc you'd find a beautifully written story with the most compelling heart-wrenching plot you've ever seen and the author's note would be like:
Author with a username like ~SasukesWaifuxD~ : Ohayo gozaimasu! ↖(^▽^)↗, I'm sowwy it took me so long to update (๑•́_•̀๑)
tsundere twink from their fic : It was about damn time you idiot (눈‸눈)
~SasukesWaifuxD~ : Hey now! It's not my fault the plot bunnies kept wunning away fwom me (╥﹏╥)
tsundere twink: W-watever, it's not like I missed you or anything (💢,,>﹏<,,) b-baka!
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DPxDC Idea
Danny working at Wayne Enterprises as some sort of engineer, uses the in-house app for all his blueprints and stuff
He starts getting notes from a coworker in-app, and assumes its this annoying older guy in his department who constantly undermines him because of his age, despite his education and past achievements (i feel like in this AU the Fentons react well to the reveal and they work together on a number of non-lethal ecto inventions that have Danny's name attached to them)
Except one day his coworker mentions never using the app, and Danny suddenly realizes there's only one other TD he could've been arguing with in the notes of the app
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I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt
“Woah. You look like shit."
Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.
The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.
"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."
And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.
The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.
If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.
"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.
"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.
"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.
The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.
He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."
There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.
"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."
Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"
"Daniel? Is that you?"
His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.
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the truth is, between the capes, broad shoulders, and armor, the Trinity really do look the most regal and dangerous out of almost all of the Justice League members. sure, there are others who look intimidating or powerful, but the three of them? they look royal.
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