ghostlyglitches

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Dick Grayson is Peter Parker's bio parent? Love it.

But..... how about Jason Todd is Gwen Stacy's bio parent. I've seen Dad!Jason to some crossover characters (Danny Fenton) that have canonically died so what's one more. Gwen can traverse the multiverse so it's not that far out of possibility.

When Jason finds out about the spidey society, he’s gonna fight Miguel no questions asked.

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I'm still thinking about fake talon!Peter but I'm also filled with other stuff that could or could not happen. Anyways, wasn't Peter 6 years old when his parent's died, right? (It also says he could have been 4. Man, idk. Comics recon certain events and it sucks keeping track.) I always wondered in the Dick is Richard Parker scenarios if he ever called Peter "Robin." It wouldn't be out of place imo and it may parallel the passing of the Robin title in that dimension.

Let's say that Richard did call him Robin enough times for Peter to sorta remember. It will be extremely nostalgic for him when he arrives to Gotham and hears a kid/teen vigilante with his childhood nickname. Later on if he ever partners with Batman, Bruce is the one hit with the nostalgia because dimensional grandson really does take after his father huh.

Jason in the corner just being snarky and asking if he's displaying signs of dementia when Bruce accidentally called Peter Robin after a particular risky mission. Batman totally doesn't want a redo of the first Robin run.

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Peak-a-Boo!au where Damian found out that his older twin brother Danyal (Danny) survived accidentally tripping into the Lazarus Pit by Dash Baxter’s pet instagram for his chihuahua, Pookie. Dash, with Paulina’s help, became a decently famous pet influencer and takes pics/vids of his dog during Phantom’s fights. It's his niche.

The Justice League Dark has questions because how many times did Amity Park get pulled into other dimensions?!?!?

Danny honestly thought Wes had something to do with the JLD coming to Amity. But, yeah, Dash continues to torment Danny unknowingly.

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very tired of the ‘Dick Grayson is mostly a pretty boy with bad puns, golden retriever vibes’ trope. Give me German Shepherd Dick. Give me the ‘consummate performer’ Dick. The one all, brilliance, bloody smiles and showmanship, the one with razor sharp wit and charm made weapon. Dick who seamlessly switches between a million personas. The one who doesn’t know what to do when the show’s over. Give me the Dick no one wants to be on the wrong side of because Nightwing might not start battles, but he finishes them. The only one whose threats the entire Batfam (including Bruce) takes seriously. The one fear toxins can’t affect because he’s been to hell and back.

The Dick who unlike Jason doesn’t even mention how much he’s been fucked up and survived. The one the Joker knew he couldn’t break.

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Those Dadwing fics where Peter's, his son:

Peter: I'm 17, that's like practically an adult, and I've been a vigilante since I was like 14. I can take care of myself.

What Richard sees when looking at Peter:

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Is this a safe space to say I do not like KAREN like at all? I feel like fic authors just use the ai to cover up plot holes and give Peter an advantage when it'd be more interesting if he didn't have one. 😞

I want Peter Parker to struggle like the ancestors intended.

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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. 

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Pediatrician damian except he treats every kid with the same amount of respect and attentiveness that he would give an adult.

Pediatrician damian who will tell parents with barely concealed distaste to shut up when they talk over their children during an appointment.

Pediatrician damian who is always watching his patients, searching for if the injury they got from "falling" is actually just that or if the injury has to do with the impatient and anxious parents nearby.

Pediatrician Damian who cares so SO much about every kid and who he learns to be comforting and gentle for because he doesn't want to cause them any more anxiety before their flu shots.

Pediatrician damian who is still a hero at heart and who has kicked ass when his hospital was briefly taken hostage by rogues. Who immediately jumped into a fight because the crying of tiny terrified children echoed in his ears and he was filled with enough righteous anger his 10 year old self would stagger.

Pediatrician damian who does everything in his power to make sure every kid who needs it gets Healthcare.

Pediatrician damian who refers to his patients as his kids.

Pediatrician damian who I'm SOBBING OVER

@puppiesandnightlock I have a lot of feelings bestie 😭

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Uncle Ben?!?!?!

It's not Jason Todd. (Make no mistake I do like it and the uncle-nephew relationship between them on fics. But there is another one I think would be hilarious for me but like brutal for Bruce and confusing/amusing to the other bat members. Alfred's not really surprised though.)

Damian Wayne is Ben Parker.

Bruce is gonna lose his shit when he discovers that alternate Damian (Uncle Ben) was gunned down. Are the Wayne's predisposed to being victims of gun violence? Bruce Wayne thinks so.

Jason: “With great power comes great responsibility.” This one taught you that. *Shakes a furious Damian*

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I've stumbled down the Peter in Gotham rabbit hole and I've never been the same. Currently I'm on the whole Dick Grayson is Peter Parker's Biological Parent kick along with the Peter contains (part of) the Soul infinity stone. If I were combine these two many misunderstandings may arise for angst, drama, and comedy.

Apologies for my ramblings of this ridiculous possible fic idea.

Isekai'd protagonist Peter Parker is sent to Gotham a few months after the events of No Way Home. He enters Gotham as Peter NOT Spider-man.

Curses his Parker Luck™ and navigates around. -> Bat fam is not going to be involved much in the beginning until shit really hits the fan <-

Won't be spider-manning but that ain't going to stop him from helping the little guy. Since we are combining the soul infinity stone plot, Peter's eyes turn golden at time when he unconsciously uses the stone's abilities. (If you see my vision, you'll know where I'm going with this.)

Peter tries to keep a low profile but he does end up making a bit of a name for himself. It's not until a Gothamite catches wind of eyes that they get terrified and think he's a rogue talon. It doesn't help that the spider bite messed with Peter's thermoregulation (idk if it's canon but I do see this from time to time) so they see that he's vulnerable to cold weather.

Dick is away on a space mission when all this is going down. (I remember a comment on one fic that said Dick's life changing events happen when he's in space. Peter can relate.)

Rumor reaches Bab's as well as the Court of Owls too.

The court sends someone who gets bested in a fight with Peter but they survive being terminated on the pure chance that they got a bit of his DNA. Guess who it matches? Gray Son of Gotham

It's not until the talons are being spotted all over Gotham that puts Peter in the bat's attention.

The bat fam pretty much think Peter is a rogue talon that was raised as a replacement for Dick. Dick’s horrified that his son (his son!) ended up taking his place and trying his hardest to bring Peter home. They think that Peter's abilities are all from the Electrum enhancement. (Wrong) Peter is ignoring and evading the court and the vigilantes while helping out a person or two.

The stone just cranks his spider-sense to over 9000. It will take a while for Peter to realize that he can talk to ghosts cause of this since their visibility can't be distinguished from the living. (Souls are tricky!)

[ghostlyglitches]

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