#Spiderman in gotham

[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. 

[rlightwood3]

I really love reading "THE GHOST OF GOTHAM OPERA HOUSE" by @heyitstaytay21. So I did my own design based on it.

[gumfield]

I keep reading so many Peter Parker in Gotham AU fanfics, and I got the worst idea ever

As most start outs go in these fics, Post SM:NWH Peter ends up in DC universe Gotham

Only difference? The Joker in this DC universe is actually an alternate version of Norman Osborn.

I know this sounds so dumb but like,,, imagine it. May died trying to help Norman, and Peter nearly threw away his morals to avenge her death by killing Norman himself. Now he's faced with another version of Osborn who is so much more fucked up, who's been through so much shit, and all Peter can see past that shitty clown make-up is the poor man who needed help who his aunt died trying to help. The man who went to FEAST knowing Peter could help. The man who one second was scared of everything including himself, and the next was laughing uncontrollably, even through the punches Peter pounded into him.

What if Peter decides Mays death won't be in vain. That even if this isn't the same Norman Osborn, he's going to help him and he won't die trying like May. He's going to avenge her death the right way.

Then cue the Bats freaking the FUCK out because???? As much as they beat the shit out of him, Bruce had spent years trying to help him, then this homeless and totally adoptable kid shows up out of nowhere and is breaking past the Joker and to the real man trapped behind it all?????

[luciaintheskyainthi]

Now that Peter mentioned knowing Nightwing's identity, it makes me want to see the two of them connecting through acrobatics. Like a competition between them.

<3

I mean... I know I mentioned a rap battle on the front lawn of Wayne manor but let's be real that's never happening. I'm not remotely witty enough for that.

I do love the idea of the two of them just having an unspoken (by them) competitiveness though. Whenever they're together they're insufferable, because they're always trying to casually out flex the other and always completely fail at actually being casual about it hehe. At first the other bats (excluding Bruce and Damian) find it hilarious. But it just. Never. Ends.

Peter'll be just talking to Robin (doesn't matter which) in the batcave and Dick oh so casually enters on his hands.

Jason and Peter come late to Sunday brunch (Bruce isn't there so Jason concedes to Alfred) and Peter comes in by vaulting over Jason's shoulders and landing effortlessly in his chair.

They cross paths on patrol and it's a race to jump off the building first to make the flashiest exit.

Don't even get them started on Twister. Although the game DID mysteriously disappear very quickly (Jason suspects it was Damian. It wasn't. It was actually Alfred) the first time it was brought out, it didn't take long for a new one to reappear (Alfred suspects it was Steph. It was actually Cass).

[c-art00nish]

LoF breaking a, years long, traditional art block in 4k (≧▽≦)

Thanks @erinwantstowrite and ur awesome, awesome, fic

Vers. with and without filter

[erinwantstowrite]

erin i need you to lock the fuck in with chapter 17 bc i am pretty sure i have read all 97 works in Dick Grayson is Peter Parker’s Biological Parent and i am going clinically insane. foaming at the mouth for content. with love pls lock in

or give a snippet i literally on my knees BEGGING.

i've been locked in since yesterday (wrote the 5000 yesterday), and now im hoping to get to at least 17000 today. much easier since i FINALLY figured out what i disliked about a scene that was making it hard to write + i'm writing the conversation with dick and peter about peter's life story and i know this kid's trauma like the back of my hand

[ladytie]

i keep seeing peter in gotham fics (i love them send me more pls) but i cannot stop thinking about if he & nat both got sent to gotham… just stick with me okay!!!

so it would start off with something like:

“a soul for a soul, the price to pay was steep and unrelenting. it was unfair and unforgiving, and yet without hesitation, natasha romanoff flung herself from the side of a cliff. this universe no longer needed the black widow to keep earths mightiest heroes humbled and steady. it squandered it’s soul away the same moment as she did, but perhaps— well maybe there was another place, another world and realm who could use a little soul. maybe, in a city of bats. a couple of spiders would be just what they needed.

because, well… plucking a soul from an infinity stone can’t be too hard. no. not for me. not for the watcher. and while the bats may need natasha romanoff, natasha romanoff needs peter parker. she needs something, someone to fight for and with. for she may have grounded the avengers, but they also grounded her. kept her on the straight and narrow, and peter parker could be just that for her once more. yes,”

the deep timber of a strikingly calm voice echoed in the recess of her mind, she could almost picture who was speaking to her. could almost see the god-like figure in a blue cloak with whitened eyes. and yet? no memory of the man when she had awoken, gasping for air, sucking it in and holding her breath as if it could be stolen from her at any moment, she had no idea how she was wherever the hell she was.

it had taken her approximately ten seconds to come to, catch her bearings and stand up. she was in a darkened alley way. it was dingy and she could hear sirens in the background, and a slight groan from behind her. quick to action she turned, her eyes widening in the slightest of perception when she caught sight of the little spider before her.

his hand was on his head running through his hair and rubbing a sore spot, his eyes still closed but he was clearly awake. she was besides him in a moment, squatting down to help him up. when he felt her hands on his arm, he looked at her, startled and unsure— but certain senses were calm.

“misses black widow ma’am… where are we?” he asked her, his voice was robbed of a certain innocence and the sound almost broke her heart. it was so unsure and confused she had to fight the urge to run her hand through his hair in a comforting way.

“i don’t know, kid” she huffed, helping him to his feet.

“but i’m sure as hell gonna find out,”

—|

the following ensues: nat & peter figuring out their in another dimension. nat seeing child soldier robin and immediately boxing batman assuming he’s a bad guy. peter making the joker cry by making fun of him the way spiderman does. nat stealing cass from batman. tim drake and peter parker friendship. dick grayson looking a lil too much like richard parker. natasha immediately being reverse-adopted by the batkids, as in they claim her as mom. “mom and dad are fighting again” one of them says when nat is yelling at bruce for something “ten buck says mom kicks his ass” “you’re on” “???she’s not ur mom. i’ve actually legally adopted you. betrayers” “you didn’t adopt me. so she can be my mother” “YOURE MY BIOLOGICAL SON” natasha immediately clocking batman is bruce wayne bc of brucie wayne

should i write this??? i feel like i should???? is there someone who would read this????

[hauntedfrogarchive]

thinking about a dick grayson is richard parker au where the dc universe also has omegaverse and post no way home, peter is plopped into gotham, deaged (the younger the better) and he has no idea what dynamics are or what’s happening he just thinks the new universe smells weird or his sense of smell has gotten stronger and the first time dick meets peter, dick’s parental instincts come on so sudden and strong that he almost gets a migraine … idk what dynamic dick is but he would be soooooo overprotective of peter and peter would be like “im not a baby!!!” with the chubbiest cheeks

[orbweaverspidergirl]

Chapter 3: i never doubt it at 4 am

summary: Orbweaver, Gotham's one and only spidergirl. A hero for only a year, she's easily recognizable from her brown spider suit, and six-eyed mask. But, without the mask, she's Nicole Lawson, the "unwanted" daughter of Bruce Wayne. She didn't mind it, not too much, but after the death of her mother and the exposure of her identity, her life is in shambles.

tw: slight yandere? it's only one line, and I'm not sure if someone would call it yandere, but I do think I'll take it too the platonic yandere spectrum. I do plan on increasing it, but it will not be hardcore.

Chapter 1 and Chapter 2

You’ve come to the conclusion that you dislike bringing vigilantes to where you live. Your house was a mess, and you were worried that they could easily see your address, but you suppose every nighttime hero knows Gotham by heart at this point. You were just really glad your mom had the night shift at the hospital tonight. 

“How you feeling, Hood?” You ask, carrying the bleeding out man into your living room. 

“Good as ever, Spidey.” He grunts, falling onto the couch. He landed on pillows piled up around the couch. “You sure as hell have a lot of these on here.” 

“My mom likes the aesthetic of it, says it looks pretty.” You smile under the mask and grab the first aid kit from on top of the fridge. Red Hood looks around the room, it’s tasteful, he decided. You had a fireplace in the middle, unlit, and there were photos of what he assumed was you and your mom. But there was something that made him look at you specifically, you looked so familiar to someone he knew.

“Eyes off the wall, Hood.” You’re in front of him now, and he’s sure you’re scowling. You throw the med kit at him, and he catches it quickly. “I’m sure you can patch yourself up.” You sound monotone, and he knows he fucked up when he sees you flipping down photos or turning them around on the wall. 

You were mad, understandably so. You knew that you took the man to your house, but you thought he would at least not look around! It’s like an unspoken rule of being a hero! You look at the man still on your couch, and you make sure there’s no blood on the floor. Your mom would actually kill you, and it would be your blood instead. You could feel her wrath from miles away, and you shiver. 

There’s a knock at your kitchen window, and you see a blue figure. “Nightwing…” You deflate, upset at the prospect of more of them coming into your living space. You debate whether or not you should let him in, but he is waving, and you would feel bad. You walk to the window and unlock it, damn your good conscience. 

“Dude, how the hell are you going to get into my window?” You hear Red Hood laughing in the background.

“Real smart of ya’, Nightwing!” Nightwing puts his foot through your window, obviously struggling, and you can’t help but laugh. 

He reaches an arm out for you to drag him in, “Spidey please,” he whines, and you give him a tug. You could do the funniest thing and just drop him, you think, but you decide against it, and pull him in. He almost trips over your sink, but you hold him up just in time. 

“You’re heavy as hell, bro.” He elbows you and Red Hood cackles in the background.

“You’re just as mean as him.” Nightwing glances over at the man on your couch and you just shrug. He walks over to the couch, and wallows over Red Hood. You can hear the two arguing, almost like siblings, and for a moment, you wish you were over there with them. Your phone rings, alerting the three of you. 

"Hey Spidey, your mom’s calling you.” Red Hood looks at your phone, a photo of the orange cat meme pops up, and he tosses it to you. “Nice photo, by the way.” You can feel him smirk under the mask and you flip him off.

Nightwing looks between the two of you, “Wait, what photo? Red, what photo?” You ignore him, answering your mom and walking into your room. 

 "Hey mom, you called?” You close the door behind and take off your mask. Your hair is frizzy, and you feel sticky and sweaty. 

 “Yeah, I just wanted to let you know I’m on my way home.” She doesn’t care to ask why you’re up so late, it’s practically the norm. You would stay up late for her as a kid, waiting for her to come home. You were always a mama’s girl. 

“Okay, I can start cooking something for you?” You put her on speaker and change out of the body suit into a ‘My Chemical Romance’ slide off shirt, and you put on a pair of old shorts. 

“Thank you, baby. I’ll be home soon.” You put your spider mask back on.

“Love you, mom.”

“Love you more.” The call ends and you leave your phone in the room. You slam your door closed to alert the heroes that you’re back. They look up at you like deer in headlights and you start to feel suspicious. 

“If any of you broke something, I’m kicking you both out.” You feel them analyze your clothes, but you go back into the kitchen and preheat the oven. 

“Someone had an angsty childhood.” You flip him off again.

“Says the one who speaks like they’d be a part of an emo-boy band.” Nightwing chuckles, shoving Red Hood.

“She got you there, man.” You can practically feel the glare being sent your way, and you laugh. This wasn’t so bad, you thought. They were annoying, sure, but you didn’t feel so lonely for once, and that was nice. 

Their temporary stay ended, and eventually the house was all to yourself, until your mom was home, of course. You laid on the couch, ripping off your mask and sighing in relief. You hated having to wear that thing for so long. You look at the and the memory of flipping the pictures of you and your mom came back. All of them were flipped, except for one, and you do a double take. It was a photo of you and your mom when you were younger. You were about six in the photo, and she was holding you close. There were bubbles flying around, and in the back, you could see a picnic table. You thought for sure you turned every photo around, so why wasn’t this one?

Dick and Jason stood on top of your house, and the night was quiet in Gotham, for once. The air, however, was tense. “You really think it’s her?” Dick asks, his voice strained with worry. 

“Yeah, you dipshit. I don’t randomly go around calling everyone my sister.” 

Dick frowns, “Well yeah, but Nicole? You think our Spidey is Nicole?” 

“I know she is! That photo is her and her mom! It couldn’t be anyone else, Dick!” Jason scorns, turning away from his brother. 

Dick tiredly groans, “Fuck.” He playfully lays his head on Jason’s shoulder. “What the hell are we going to do?” 

A/N: My inbox is open! I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks for reading.

[awhoreintheory]

Dick: Peter, this is Jason, my baby brother. Jason, this is Peter, my—

Peter, immediately gaping and going starry eyed: Oh my god, Jensen Ackles???

Jason, raising an eyebrow: uhh... no, kid, he just said my name. It's Jason.

Peter, dread pooling in his stomach: hold that thought.

Peter taking Dick's phone and looking something up. He's very clearly distraught.

Peter: NOOOO! You took Supernatural from this world! You deprived so many young, mentally ill teenagers of Dean Winchester! Jason, what about the gifs? The endless amount of gifs for any situation? You're a monster. Don't talk to me.

Jason: what the fuck.

[pastelcee]

whoever came up with the “dick grayson is peter parkers dad” trope.. you fucking ate. you deserve a million dollars bc that is my favorite thing rn i EAT that shit up !!!

[tortellinisposts]

OKAY. i’ve decided to write my own spider-man in gotham fanfic. it’s still being worked on so here’s some memes with absolutely no fucking context.

[luciaintheskyainthi]

Peter finding out that Jason died

Jason finding out that Peter died

(insert that umbrella academy car meme)

u mean like this

[lowkeytheunicorn]

Here's those sketches I mentioned earlier. Simple flat color base. This fic is now on ch. 13, and I get so excited when it updates. Spidey is just so fun to doodle in the corner of a page and with my new assignment coming up I might just be able to animate him for a 3D animation test so might update with that later.

[llillilholillill]

y'know at this point i have at the very least like 16(ish) ideas for my series with robin!jason meeting post-infinity war!peter AND i have the whole ass backstory for dc!peter in whose body now lives post-infinity war!peter AND i am committed to writing all of those ideas but.

but.

i can't decide would jason die in my au. because it seems like he shouldn't?

and at the same time.

i want dick grayson killing joker and peter sitting with him on the roof afterwards and telling him he had almost stopped holding himself (his strength) back when jason had just died and he had first came face to face with joker. i want dick grayson letting his guard down because maybe spider-man isn't a bat or a bird but he was jason's best friend. i want dick grayson telling peter he hates the fact he killed because it made him a monster and yet still wishes batman didn't save joker.

i want peter meeting red hood and not realising he is jason because his heartbeat changed, his smell changed. i want peter not knowing what to do with red hood who is a crime lord yet really is more of an anti-hero in his actions. i want peter looking at red hood and seeing deadpool, seeing natasha, seeing bucky. i want peter not knowing red hood is jason but finding it out because of some stupid thing.

BUT ALSO

i want jason to live. i want jason going to college with peter. i want jason listening to peter rumble on about his new idea/invention. i want jason ranting to peter about some book he must read for an essay. i want jason realising he is in love with peter in the middle of one of these fiery monologues.

so yeah i'm kind of at the cross road right now.

[feelingthedisaster]

guys please recommend spidey in gotham fics, im writing one and i need inspo/getting into brainrot. THANK YOU