i love graffiti. "comics and jazz are the only american art forms" you forgot graffiti. did you remember graffiti? That art form birthed in Philly and NYC in the early 70s by poor Black kids. that art form that spread all over the world and influenced so many. that's used without irony in commercials when they're trying to appeal to a "young urban" customer.
did you forget graffiti? that racism broken windows theory victim? that reach the establishment takes claiming that it's exclusively violent gang members throwing up those full-color pieces and wildstyle tags in the middle of the night outsmarting fifty security cameras because the billboard was ugly anyway. as if, even if it was, it wouldn't be impressive as all hell. risking brutality and fall damage so your art can occupy the space a gentrified condo named something like "Coluumna" took away from you. proving that despite only assholes affording to live here anymore there's still a soul beneath it. an animal with dripping stripes and teeth that go clack-clack tsssss
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Headcanon where after so many arguments between the batkids and Bruce over his paranoia and complete disregard for his kids privacy, the entire family had compromised with (in the healthiest way possible) downloading life360 on their phones and that's how they all keep track of each other.
Now Bruce knew that this is mostly for his benefit and is supposed to be a healthy alternative for his unhealthy paranoia and helicopter parenting, but what he wasn't expecting was for his kids to start keeping track of him.
He's putting gas in his car and Dick calls him because apparently Dick has been watching him drive around on the app? And Bruce is currently at a gas station thats right around the corner from a Taco Bell and now Dick wants him to get food for everyone since he's already there.
He's driving home from a meeting and Steph calls him because her and Duke were shopping in the area and wants to know if he can pick them up, when he asks how she knew he was on the same street, he gets a "Oh I just like to stalk everyone on the app for funsies." as an answer.
Jason calls him and he can barely get out a hello before Jason cuts him off, "Bruce why the fuck is your phone battery on 5%, charge your damn phone" which completely stuns him because why does he know that. He clears his throat before answering. "Jason, what?"
"Everyone can see each others phone batteries on '360, now charge your phone." Is all he gets before Jason hangs up on him.
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League members discussing meeting Robin at work:
"Compared to Bats, Robin was a total sweetheart. Ball of sunshine."
"Man, must've been a good day then, the kid I met was a real anklebiter. He pulled out a sword and everything."
"Anklebiter is harsh, the sweet boy I met barely said a word, he just kept asking about Themyscira and the lasso."
"He? I met a blonde girl."
"No, no, black haired boy with blue eyes. We're talking about Robin."
"Yeah same here, blue eyed and tanned."
"Pretty sure he had green eyes. And talked fancy. And kind of scolded me for time travelling."
"The child I met was paler than the moon."
"I'm telling you I met a girl, and she was Robin."
"Well... either we're all wrong or we're all right."
So they arrive at the conclusion that Bats has a shape-shifter for a kid.
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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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watching people insist that dick grayson would post thirst traps and tiktoks and overshare online and accidentally reveal his secret identity because he’s open and honest and would never lie as if he doesn’t hate talking about himself and hides from the people he loves and rarely directly says what he’s thinking
u fool!! u have been tricked by the facade!!! a graysons nature is to perform!!
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"Okay." Danny slowly laid the already cold body back onto the table, ready to slide back it into the refuge of cold storage. "Okay. Dead guy. Stay there."
The body didn't move.
"Fantastic. Now. Hang out while I pour the embalming fluid into the pump, alright? It should only be a minute."
And it usually did; working in a funeral home wasn't extremely glamorous, but it paid the bills, and Danny had already been used to the rhyme and rhythm of negotiating death with the public by the time he sent in his mortuary school application. It had been a transition that made sense. And in the end, the degree had only cost him a few extra years post-graduation and a little dig into student loans, and now Danny had a stable 12-8 job and health insurance valid in the state of new jersey.
Today, though, the pump had that decided enough was enough. With a bang and a boom, the pump spat out a cloud of smoke and clunked uncomfortably.
The dead body sat up.
Danny scrambled over to push it back down. "No. We talked about this. Dead people don't move. If you want to stay here and have me put you back together all the time, you have to stay put. Got it?"
Whatever the weird gold-eye corpses were on in Gotham, they at least listened to him on occasion. They weren't ghosts, per se— they never pinged on any of the ghost detection devices Mom and Dad had packed in his going-away-to-college bag— but they were, despite being occasionally animate, perfectly deceased.
Weird. Danny had never gotten used to it. Still, they came in droves, too eager to sit on the top of the basement stairwell and lurk in the corners and stare endlessly at them with their weird, avian eyes, and sometimes they heralded the arrival similarly weird-ass bodies that had lost their heads or their arms or their limbs through the more conventional channels.
"I'm losing too much thread to all y'all coming in all the time," Danny complained to the dead body, who, at the moment, was the only person present to blame. "Stop getting your limbs cut off. This stuff is expensive, you know. It's a specialty order."
The body didn't even have the courtesy to blink. Rude.
"At least let them bury you this time. Every time one of you darts off when my back's turned, my boss thinks I'm stealing corpses. My coworkers think I'm building my own Frankenstein or something."
The corpse neither verbalized nor blinked, but Danny hadn't expected it to; with a sigh, he rolled the corpse back into cold storage, locked its little door (not that locking it in had ever stopped it) and called it quits for the night.
It's not like anyone was paying him for the extra hours anyway.
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