awhoreintheory

[awhoreintheory]

My computer broke mid-chapter what does this mean

[awhoreintheory]

Circus Boy

Directly inspired by @erinwantstowrite 's art!!! post

Request from awesome amazing cool Anon

Over the years, circuses have lost their spark.

Dick would know— he’d literally grown up in one. Back then, the circus was a symphony of effort and artistry. Weeks, sometimes months, were spent perfecting routines. Performances were designed to dazzle, to inspire awe, no matter the country or culture of the audience. The comedy sketches weren’t just filler— they were genuinely funny, capable of drawing laughter even from the most reluctant parent dragged along by an excited child. Every act had a rhythm, a purpose, and above all, passion. The performers took pride in their craft, and the audience responded in kind, feeding off the energy, cheering and clapping until their hands were raw and their throats sore. 

Now? Now they were dull. Predictable routines recycled ad nauseam. Costumes that looked like they were bought in bulk from a clearance rack. Tents and stages slapped together with the barest effort to resemble grandeur. The magic, the joy—the soul of it all—had been replaced with a singular, glaring goal: profit. No one cared if the audience laughed, gasped, or even paid attention, so long as they paid their entrance fees.

But recently, whispers of something different had started making waves in Gotham: a circus gaining a reputation for being... well, different.

Dick’s curiosity was piqued. He hadn’t planned to go, at first. But the memories of his youth, of what the circus used to mean, stirred within him. Before he knew it, he’d wrangled (read: blackmailed) together as much of the family as he could to go see it. Which, wasn’t a whole lot considering quite a few were out of state currently, but it was enough to make him smile.

“Why must I come along? I do not see the point,” Damian groused, arms folded tightly across his chest as the group approached the circus grounds. Despite his protests, he made no move to make a stealthy exit.

“You’re coming because it’ll be good for you,” Dick said, ruffling Damian’s hair just to annoy him. Damian promptly swatted his hand away, glaring daggers at his adoptive brother.

“You don’t even know if it’ll be good,” Tim chimed in, hands shoved into his jacket pockets. “What if this thing is as boring as all the other ones you’ve complained about?”

“Then we’ll all get funnel cake and call it a night,” Stephanie said brightly, making it clear where her true excitement lay. “I’m in it for the food, anyway.”

Dick pouted. “You didn’t have to say the quiet part out loud!” 

“Don’t underestimate funnel cake,” Duke added with a smirk. “It might be the only thing saving this trip if the show’s a flop.”

Dick rolled his eyes, but his grin didn’t waver. “You’re all so cynical. Just... trust me, okay? I have a feeling about this one.”

Sure, a lot of the decorations seemed cheap thus far, but Dick can’t blame them. They’re clearly low budget, with only two shows a week, versus the seven to ten a week Dick was used to. The difference was the genuine passion and excitement in the eyes of the performers. And they were just doing pre-show stunts on the street to rouse excitement! 

Tim hummed thoughtfully. “This place has been gaining rapid popularity,” he said, the subtle edge in his tone making it clear he was already analyzing every detail. Dick saw his fingers twitch as if to take a picture. 

Dick glanced over at him but didn’t comment. He recognized that tone— Tim was in detective mode, quietly piecing together threads no one else could see yet. He did, however, take the opportunity at his siblings' distraction to subtly herd them in the direction of the tents, eager to get a good front-row seat. Damian noticed, but he didn’t do much more than roll his eyes.

Steph, however, rolled her eyes dramatically. At Tim, not Dick. “Can you just enjoy one thing without looking for a criminal conspiracy, Tim?”

Tim matched her with a roll of his own eyes, the two slipping into a bickering match that’d put an old married couple to shame if they weren’t so aggressively gay. Meanwhile, Dick let his attention wander to the stage, studying the equipment with the practiced eye of someone who’d lived this life.

Suspended high above was the trapeze rig, its bars wrapped in worn leather, the steel cables taut and secured to thick iron frames. The safety net below, while a little faded, looked sturdy enough to do its job. Not brand-new, but serviceable.

To one side, a highwire stretched across a dizzying height, its slim cable shimmering faintly under the tent lights. The rigging showed some signs of age— slightly dulled bolts and scuffed counterweights—but nothing that made Dick worry. It would hold, even if the daredevil walking it would need nerves of steel.

A teeterboard sat center stage on the ground, its spring mechanism ready to launch performers into flips and vaults. Nearby, a stack of brightly painted crates and barrels hinted at comedic skits. Clowns would probably tumble over them with exaggerated flair, while a sturdy seesaw-like prop suggested slapstick gags involving plenty of unintentional (and intentional) falls.

The whole setup had a charming scrappiness to it. The equipment could use a little TLC, sure, but Dick had no doubt it would hold up under pressure. He could tell the performers had put their trust in it, and that meant something.

For a moment, Dick felt a flicker of nostalgia. The way the crew moved, the crisp efficiency with which they handled the gear— it reminded him of home, of the way his parents had always treated the stage with reverence, as though it were sacred ground.

“Do you see how high that wire is?” Duke muttered, his voice tinged with a mix of awe and apprehension as he followed Dick’s gaze.

“I see it,” Dick replied softly, his heart tightening. He couldn’t help but wonder who had the guts to walk that cable, let alone pull off any stunts on it. He’d definitely have to stick around and chat them up, maybe have a little friendly competition. 

“Awe, man,” Duke sighed, visibly disappointed. “Guess we weren’t excited enough.”

Turns out “early” wasn’t early enough because the seating area was packed. The whole first three rows were aggressively claimed, forcing the group to settle for seats in the middle of the fourth row.

Steph and Duke promptly excused themselves to grab popcorn—or, more accurately, for Steph to scout for funnel cake. Dick had to respect the consistency.

Damian glanced at Dick, then at Tim with a withering look. “Drake, cease your ramblings. They sour my mood.”

Tim blinked, clearly taken aback. “Wait, just me? Steph was talking way more!”

Steph, who had been halfway out of earshot, whirled around with mock offense. “Excuse me? I wasn’t the one turning this into an episode of ‘True Crime: Circus Edition.’” 

“Yeah, because you’re too busy planning how to steal funnel cake from children,” Tim shot back, crossing his arms. Damian’s eyebrow twitched. Dick wondered why peace was but a mere illusion. 

“Oh, please,” Steph quipped. “You’d be the kid I steal it from, Drake.”

Before Tim could come up with a retort, and Damian became a convicted felon, the lights dimmed, cutting their bickering short. A hush fell over the crowd as the familiar low hum of a drumroll began to build.

The ringmaster strode into the center of the stage, clad in a dazzling coat of crimson and gold that shimmered under the spotlight. If you looked any closer than that, you’d see how tacky and cheap it was. His booming voice carried effortlessly across the tent.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls! Welcome to a night of wonder, daring, and delight!” the ringmaster announced, his voice ringing through the tent as the steady drumroll built the tension. “Prepare yourselves for the extraordinary, the astonishing, the absolutely unbelievable! The show begins... now!”

The drumroll reached its peak, and with a dramatic flourish, the spotlight swept upward to reveal the first performer perched high above the stage. A man in a sparkling gold costume waved grandly to the crowd before swinging onto the trapeze. The audience clapped politely as he performed a few rudimentary tricks— basic flips and graceful swings that showcased control but lacked flair.

Two more performers joined him, each clad in similar glittering costumes. They moved with confidence, transitioning through formations and passing between trapezes, but the moves were predictable and lacked the edge Dick was hoping to see. Certainly, nothing that would make this rinky-dink circus as popular as it got so quickly. 

Tim leaned toward Dick, his tone flat. “You dragged us here for this?”

“Underwhelming,” Damian muttered, his expression neutral but his tone sharp.

Dick didn’t respond immediately, though he couldn’t disagree. The tricks were technically fine— safe, practiced, polished— but there was no spark, no passion. No magic. He resigned to going home disappointed and also to the inevitable flaming via siblings. 

But then, just as one of the performers finished an awkward landing on the platform, the ringmaster’s voice boomed again.

“And now, prepare yourselves for the prodigy of the skies, the one and only Amazing Arach-Kid!”

The spotlight shifted upward again, revealing a much smaller figure poised on a separate platform, high above the others. It was a boy— young and wiry, dressed in sleek crimson and black, his face obscured by a half-mask (not dissimilar to their domino masks, actually) that glimmered faintly in the light. For a moment, the crowd was silent, uncertain what to expect.

Without warning, the boy leaped.

The gasp from the audience was audible as the kid— Arach-Kid?— launched himself into a dramatic triple flip, his body twisting gracefully through the air before he caught the trapeze with flawless precision. The crowd erupted into applause, the energy in the tent shifting instantly.

He didn’t stop there. Swinging with a force that sent his trapeze soaring higher than any of the others had dared, he released at the peak of his arc and spun into a double somersault. Instead of catching the next trapeze, he landed neatly in the arms of one of the adult performers, who looked genuinely startled by the boy’s precision. He grinned, waving excitedly at the audience as they roared with applause. 

From there, the routine transformed. Arach-Kid became the centerpiece of the act, seamlessly incorporating daring flips, twists, and transitions between trapezes. He was passed between the adults with perfect timing, their previous mediocrity eclipsed by his sheer skill and energy.

“Whoa,” Duke murmured, leaning forward in his seat. “He’s... good.”

“Who is that kid?” Tim asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

“Better than the rest of them combined,” Damian said bluntly, though his tone carried the faintest hint of approval.

The boy ended his routine with a jaw-dropping quadruple somersault, catching the final trapeze one-handed and hanging upside down with effortless control. Gasps and cheers erupted from the audience, their applause thunderous as he let himself swing for a moment, letting the crowd bask in his daring. Then, with a fluid motion, he swung back, releasing the trapeze bar for one final flourish.

Dick leaned forward, his breath catching as the kid’s body twisted into the unmistakable maneuver— the signature move of the Flying Graysons.

The crowd roared as he executed the technique perfectly, his form flawless, his timing impeccable. He landed with a clean dismount, arms raised triumphantly, and offered the crowd a playful bow before darting off to the wings. Even with the stage empty, shouts and applause echoed for a long time after the boy left. 

For a moment, Dick couldn’t move. His stomach churned as memories of his parents on that same trapeze flooded his mind. No one else knew that move. No one could. His parents had created it, and Dick had learned it from them. It was their legacy— his legacy.

So how, in the name of all that made sense, did this random kid just pull it off perfectly?

The lights shifted again, smoothly transitioning to the next act: a somewhat clumsy but undeniably entertaining tightrope routine. One performer started with a wobbling walk, arms flailing for comedic effect. Another joined, balancing precariously with a broomstick for support. The final performer added a unicycle to the mix, pedaling shakily across the thin wire as the audience laughed and clapped in delight.

It was… objectively funny.

But Dick barely noticed. His good mood had evaporated, replaced by a heavy knot of unease in his chest. At this point, they must have a hive mind with how they immediately filed out of the tent without a single word exchanged. 

“That was—” Tim started, breaking the tense silence.

“Dick,” Steph interrupted, her voice low, “did he just—?”

“That was your move,” Tim finished firmly, his eyes locked on Dick’s.

“It’s not possible,” Duke added, glancing at the now-empty trapeze rig. “Right? It’s your family’s thing. There’s no way some random kid from Gotham knows it.”

“I am more concerned with how he knows it,” Damian said, his voice cutting. His eyes darted to Dick. “This is your domain, Richard. You must have answers.”

Dick didn’t respond right away. He couldn’t. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his breathing shallow. In disbelief, he muttered, “I don’t.”

Steph frowned. “Okay, well... what do we do? Do we just ignore the fact that some kid pulled off your impossible secret family move?”

“No,” Dick said sharply, his voice colder than any of them expected. “We don’t ignore it. We find out who he is, how he learned it, and what the hell is going on.”

Tim’s brow furrowed. “Do you think someone’s trying to get your attention? Like, deliberately?”

Dick shook his head, though his face betrayed his uncertainty. “I don’t know. Maybe. I mean, it’s... it’s possible, but...” He exhaled through his nose, frustrated. “I need answers. This isn’t something you just pick up on YouTube.”

The group left the small but packed circus, their earlier excitement replaced by a shared tension. The cool night air did little to clear their heads as they walked in a tight huddle, glancing over their shoulders as if the boy would materialize out of the crowd.

“Something’s not right,” Tim said, breaking the silence.

“Obviously,” Damian muttered.

“I mean it,” Tim snapped. “Moves like that— you don’t just do them. It takes years to learn without a teacher.” He glanced at Dick. “You’re sure no one outside your family knew it? Like, absolutely sure?”

“Positive,” Dick said firmly. “The only people who knew it are gone. Except me.” His voice dropped as he added, “Or at least, they’re supposed to be.”

The group exchanged uneasy looks, about both the situation and Dick’s reaction to it. It takes quite a bit to rattle him, so to see him, well, rattled was weird. Beyond weird. It was downright wrong. 

“Either way,” Duke said cautiously, “we’re going to figure this out. Right?”

“Oh, we will,” Dick said, his voice grim. “We don’t leave things like this unanswered.”

As they disappeared into the Gotham night, paranoia settled over them like a second skin. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t going to stay a mystery for long. 

[awhoreintheory]

Some people don't care much for the Ben Parker is Jason Todd trope bc they're basically polar opposites, right? And even tho I adore that tag, I get ittt

A lot of the fics (me included, dw) want to jump into Peter excited/scared that this is a version of his uncle. Which slaps ofc!!

But now. Imagine. Peter finds out Jason is the alternate version of his Uncle. And he's disappointed

The Red Hood? A murderer? Someone who basically is the opposite of everything his uncle believed in? A twisted, darker version of "with great power comes great responsibility"?

He avoids Jason. He wants nothing to do with a cruel fun house mirror version of his uncle, he doesn't want to disparage his uncles name

(Points if Peter glorified Uncle Ben in his memories, and in reality, he's not all that different from Jason)

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Ok REALLY out there idea, but like Peter with the symbiote falling into the DC universe, but getting thrown through realities completely fucks up the symbiote (venom? Idk if I could do that to the Silly Guy™️)

So when they crash land the symbiote is like totally NOT the same, and is effectively a zombie virus/symbiote and just. Completely Fucks the DC universe, and Peter's the only one immune bc he was kinda there when that happened right

Could work great for either a Peter x dc character ship OR my beloved Dick Grayson = Richard Parker tbh

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U know the audio, this is all I could think about

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If Jason is Uncle Ben, then that really recontextualizes the "With Great Power, comes great Responsibility" as a barbed dig at Bruce for having all the power of Batman and as their Father, but never seem's to take responsibility for his Rogues, his Parenting, and the various bad habits that he's trained into each of his kids. It's the kind of poetic little insult that doubles as very great advice that Jason would cook up and get embroidered into a sweater that he would only wear in the safety of his safe houses.

Like, imagine all of the Uncle Ben level advice that Jason would have given to a young Peter that are all just insults to the rest of the family but also double as Really good Fucking Advice that they can't exactly Unteach him.

"When Your appearance gets you down, just remember that their is always someone who looks way more ridiculous." Is said while staring straight past Peter's head and straight at the picture of Discowing that is hidden in plain sight among his Scrapbook wall.

"Always have a backup plan, even when you think you have it in the bag" he says while thinking of the Time Babs invited Dick on a date to a restaurant that one of her regulars recommended, only to discover it wasn't wheelchair accessible when they get there.

"Rest well In the short term, so that when you have to go on those long stretches of studying, you can go that little bit farther and smarter." while remembering Tim. Just Tim. Existing.

"a well placed joke or quip can make someone's day, but remember when a situation is serious enough, to treat it seriously." remembering Steph reflexively making an ill timed joke at someone's funeral and having to apologize so fucking hard.

"Your personal interests shouldn't come second to an assignment, always take a moment to enjoy the simple pleasures." Remembering Damian in the beginning of his time as Robin trying desperately not to pet all the cats along his patrol route until one day Jason caught him in a massive pile with all the Alley Cats in a 3 mile radius in a single Alleyway. He still has the helmet footage.

"Being stealthy can help you escape bully's, but remember to stop being stealthy when among friends." Thinking back to when Cass kept accidentally scaring everyone, even Bruce, because it would appear she would pop into existence out of nowhere but had been standing there the entire time.

"Be the light that your friends can look up to, but not so bright as to overshadow their own qualities." Remembering when Duke, while still getting used to his powers while training to become the signal, had accidentally unleashed a full power light show over his entire body and had Flash banged everybody in the Batcave.

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me as a writer

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We have seen Peter Parker in Gotham, now I propose Nightwing in No Way Home.

Dr. Strange's spell brings Peter alternate versions of himself, villains and... some guy no one has ever heard of? The hero identifies himself as Nightwing and is willing to help in exchange for help getting back to his home world. His home world is also apparently pretty different because he doesn't recognize a lot of important stuff? Weird.

(Yes, I know that is not how the spell worked in the film. Maybe it attempted to pull in another Peter, but because he didn't exist in the DC universe, it garbed the next best thing, Peter's dad.)

Eventually they have a Dick = Richard Parker realization. Maybe Aunt May is the one who puts it together? I think it would be funny if Dick just did something so him, and May just immediately clocks Nightwing as her brother in law. Maybe May can even live in this universe because Dick was also there and was able to save her?

At the end Strange is going to have to make everyone forget Peter, but Dick steps in and says, "how about we don't do that and instead he comes back to my home universe with me?"

May comes along too because she is not forgetting her nephew, nor is she going to abandon him to another world even if she does trust Dick. We can add even more drama to their arrival in Gotham if we make Jason = Uncle Ben.

[awhoreintheory]

Am i too late for this trend?

(Once again, fanart for Existential Crisis Mode on AO3 by @luciaintheskyainthi )!

i love making peter look sickly

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The Joker gives uncanny valley and in this essay today I will

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I need someone to write a feral 14-year-old, freshly dead uncle, angry at world, pre-vigilante Peter ending up in gotham

Because??? Can you imagine the chaos???

Peter gets dragged into DC, maybe a switch up of the circumstances on how he ends up in gotham? I'm thinking like. Either a futuristic science thing or magic, and Dink's DNA is placed in it (deliberately or not) and it's supposed to pull the closest alternate variant, but it malfunctions and knabs whatever shares the DNA

Peter falls through a portal and immediately starts cursing people out, maybe he punches someone, who knows

"Who is this spicey teenager and why are they calling me a bitch?" And Bruce looks at him and he's literally his first Robin

OR flip the angry grieving teen and you can have a complete shut down??

Honestly, however you think a newly super powered and grieving teen would react in general

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The Bats: Are you hungry? We can buy you food.

Peter: Nah I have food at home.

Food at home:

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Everyone in the whole world needs to see this NOW

@luciaintheskyainthi book binded my fic Existential Sick Mode!!! (A companion fic to her scrumptious fic Existential Crisis Mode) And it looks fucking AMAZING

It's so beautiful I want to physically eat it. The best thing in existence.

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the boys are on a donut date <3 (the bag Jason is holding has bagels for whenever Peter decides he's had enough sugar)

just wanted to draw them in their civies and Dog in all her glory cause it feels like I haven't actually drawn consistently in forever

inspired by Existential Crisis Mode by @luciaintheskyainthi

[awhoreintheory]

I did a little looking into parental genetics, and guess what?

A set of parents with Black hair and Blue eyes, and Red hair and Green eyes, CAN HAVE A BROWN HAIRED AND BROWN EYED CHILD!!!

You heard me right.

Dick and Babs or Dick and Kor'i can both be canonical pairings for Peter's Parents in the DC universe.

I personally like Dick and Kor'i for Peter's parents better, not for a lack of a love for Babs, Babs and Dick are my favorite DC Pairing. But more for the fact that Mary and Kor'i sound similar enough phonetically that anyone slipping up and accidentally calling her Kor'i in her civilian identity could easily pass it off as just slurring the name Mary a bit. And the fact that Richard and Mary Parker both worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. in the Comics, and their Plane crash death always sounding like a Government made cover story for an agent dying on a secret mission, well...

Richard Parker and Mary Parker were Government funded Heroes in the Marvel Universe, under the codenames of Nightwing and Starfire, and were killed on a mission, orphaning their son Peter with his Aunt and Uncle, May Parker, and Jason "Ben" Parker. For MCU Continuity, they could have been members of the First Avengers Initiative Team, one that existed in the early 90's, who was shut down in the late 90's after members of the team died in a tragic mission, and that would be why the Initiative was Shut down before The start of the MCU with Nick Fury trying to revive it. And that's why Nick (and Talos) knew who Peter Parker was and trusted him with Mysterio First. Not just because he's Spider-Man or was in the Area, but because Both of his parents were founders of the FIRST Avengers team.

That's my personal Headcanon at least.

But I also love Babs being being Mary, because that totally recontextualizes all of the starts to Peter in Gotham Fics as a Mother seeing her Teenage Son (who looks so much like his father it hurts, with the Lazarus Pit-ification of his eyes to green really showing how much his eyes are shaped after his mother's) for the first time, usually looking Homeless, injured, starving, and traumatized, all wrapped up in whatever random clothes he could snatch up from his surroundings to pass off as normal looking. And she just has to have a silent crying breakdown as she knows that's her son, even if she hadn't birthed him yet (or maybe she thinks the memory of her being pregnant was erased from her memory? She doesn't know what to think anymore!) but a mother can always recognize her baby. And he just looks so Hurt and all she can do is cry and try to get concrete proof that he's her son in the short time he's in her library, while ALSO calling over Dick to ask if he knew they had a kid together.

I think I just made myself cry, brb...

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This prompt got a lovely fic by tilau on ao3!! Highly recommend the read <3

Spidey in Gotham brainrot is bad rn, and the whole Richard Grayson = Richard Parker thing??? Can't take it. I just can't. Imagine Peter busking in gotham by doing acrobatics or juggling (spider senses come real handy in catching stuff, imagine how damn good at juggling he would be with like a little bit of practice??) bc he's broke as hell and he doesn't have to keep up with his nerd persona at school or anything, so why not? And just Dick?? Seeing this street performer kid??? Who looks just like him????? A tiny lost little Grayson????? I wish I could draw bc I see it so clearly, but sadly I can only do like stick figures.

Bold of you to assume I wouldn't LOVE a stick figure reenactment

But no you get it!!! I'm completely absorbed in the Richard Parker is Dick Grayson brainrot,,, it's so good. I love street performer Peter just as much as him being in the circus!! He would decimate people in break dancing and magic tricks using his stickiness!! Peter could totally wow audiences by juggling stuff like knives too!

I love torturing Dick with parallels just as I do with much Peter. Dick, seeing a homeless, witty orphan moving with the grace of an acrobat and wanting to take him home and feed him,,, only to find out, holy shit, the sassy kid who juggles knives is actually his??? If he wasn't already a mother hen before, paternal instincts have intensified it by 200%.