lemongrovesandcloves

[lemongrovesandcloves]

sneak peak of chapter 12

The Mime of Gotham City, only on ao3

*

There was something deeply unsettling about Mime. An eerie quality that proved blinding with each flinch and tremor. Something familiar in the way the kid asked permission to do basic human tasks. In how he would sit there so silently, how he’d flinch at a laugh or turn to the doorway before someone entered the room. 

They had known no child would choose to join Joker willingly. But, well, they hadn’t realised quite how unwitting this child had been. 

Peter Parker was a ghost. No traces of him in any system, no past to be found in any place. And yet… here he was. A dead boy revived, with the tell-tale white streak beneath fading black dye and eyes that rung faintly green. 

They had spent months fighting a teenager that had been murdered, brought back, then shackled by a bomb in his neck. And even with that… even knowing he could die, Peter had tried to kill Joker. Not just tried, he’d succeeded so well that even Bruce couldn’t do anything about it. 

And just who was Peter Parker? Who was this boy with dyed black hair and glowing green eyes? 

He was kind. 

It was the first and most evident trait of the boy. Clear in how he was so careful around Damian’s pets. 

Titus had immediately taken to Peter - a grave surprise to the teen that owned the great dog. At first, Damian had scowled as Titus sniffed at the newest guest in the manor, scenting the boy before flopping by his feet. But gradually, as he watched Titus nudge Peter’s hand after every time the boy flinched, how he huffed whenever Peter seemed lifeless and dissociated… well, Damian hadn’t minded so much, after that. 

In fact, he’d taken Peter to meet the rest of his animals. The teen had grinned at the sight of Batcow, utterly in awe of a creature he’d never seen before. With gentle pats, Peter had greeted the large animal without fear or disgust. He’d been gentle with Alfred the cat, carefully blinking slow and placing a finger for the feline to sniff before it chose to tolerate him. 

It was more than just that. Peter Parker was so considerate that it was impossible to be a ruse. He asked how people’s days had gone, nodded along while not remarking at how little detail he was given. Fascination coated his features at every new discovery he made, every answer to his bewildered questioning. 

Peter hadn’t known anything about the Justice League. Nor of Metropolis, of a half dozen other cities the family frequented. He was so excited to hear about superheroes, all their differing talents and deeds. 

He hadn’t even known who the Waynes were. To him, it had been a word carved into the wall beside tallies. Finding them had not been a plan, never plotted out with care. Instead, he’d planned to die. And in his funeral march, he’d found their name on a newspaper and gone to solve one final mystery. 

It was utterly brutal. Pitiful and heart wrenching. 

*

[lemongrovesandcloves]

round two of my writer's block collages: next up is Mime of Gotham City. I low key love this one - feels like it's got all the necessary hints and deeds of the next part of my story x

for those who don't know my fic, it's my third spider-man in Gotham fic. Features Peter Parker as the Joker's sidekick, Red Hood trying to be a good dad, a League of Assassins hunting a lost clone, and a little romance between Peter and Tim Drake ;) xx

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58015915/chapters/147699286

[lemongrovesandcloves]

I have been struck by a terrible case of writer's block, and as such have made collages to represent a few of my stories. planning on posting the first two today - hope people dig the vibes :D

this is based upon the Nightweaver - a tale of Peter Parker as an amnesiac clone in Gotham city, picked up by Deathstroke and hunted by the Court of Owls (link below ;) xx

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56449798/chapters/143443723

[lemongrovesandcloves]

Is there a fanfic of your’s that you enjoy writing the most?? If so, why?

(P.s. I LOVE ur writing sm. I’ve been reading ur Spiderman x Batfam fics, and the way u accurately write the characters is just everything. The latest one I’ve been reading is “The Mime of Gotham City,” and I’m SEATED for the next chapter)

thank you so much for the question! :D

right now, I'm loving writing the Mime of Gotham. there's just something so fun about exploring Peter's character in the context of Joker's story - with his rebirth as this almost inverse of Jason Todd. in Jason's story, he was killed by Joker and found by the League of Assassins. in this story... well, let's just say it's a perfect mirror. He's going through Jason's story in reverse - from a rogue hunted and harmed by the Joker, to now being inside the Wayne Manor and (eventually) part of the family.

but, if I'm honest, my favourite spidey in Gotham story I've done is definitely Nightweaver. it was so much fun exploring the relationship with Slade Wilson and how Peter began to regain his MCU personality as he settled in Gotham. plus, I think it's got the most satisfying end to any story I've ever written. definitely the happiest, too. I ended up writing while watching old episodes of Teen Titans (the classic cartoon) and just loved weaving all these little lines and traits from Robin in the show into Peter in my story.

I'm so glad you're enjoying the stories :D I'm now off to try and finish the next chapter of Mime of Gotham City, so should have some fresh content for you soon xx

[lemongrovesandcloves]

sneak peak of chapter 11

Mime of Gotham City, only on ao3

*

The car was too quiet. 

Peter was sat in the back seat, eyes darting an unfamiliar skyline as streetlights flickered past them in golden blurs. Beside him sat a girl, her red dress almost shimmering under the dim glow of the lights outside. She was scrolling on a phone, her warm skin lit by the blue light of the screen as she typed out a text. And she was beautiful. Her hair flowed in gorgeous curls, her eyes bright and lips full. 

There was a shiny red car in front of them, set with a bumper sticker that read ‘I bought this before he turned out to be an asshole’ - fit with a decal of a hammer to label its brand. The car that Peter was sat within was old, that much he knew. The seats were a pale leather, no ports or details to separate the back seats in two. He could feel the fabric of a suit - stuffy and gritty against his sensitive skin - the press of a necktie around his throat. 

And though the details were familiar, though he knew he’d been wearing a suit last he remembered… it wasn’t right. 

Something was off. 

He wasn’t quite sure of how he’d ended up here. 

The last thing he remembered was the agony of bullets digging into his torso, of the cold and sharp stab as he stuck a scalpel through his throat. He should… he just knew he shouldn’t be here. A villain’s sidekick wouldn’t be in such a nice car, sat next to a pretty girl. He shouldn’t be being chaffered by an older man - hair thinning and greying but face still flush with liveliness. 

There was no music, only the honks of car horns and the usual thrum of tyres against poorly-maintained city roads. But they weren’t as rough and broken as the ones he knew in Gotham. 

“I’ve seen you around, right?” The man in the front spoke - his eyes locked onto Peter’s through the mirror. His brow was furrowed, gaze pensive. “I mean… somewhere. We’ve, uh… have we ever��? Because even the voice-”

“He does Academic Decathlon with me.” The girl spoke, eyes still locked onto her phone screen. 

“Oh.” The man nodded, eyes darting back to the road - just briefly - before they returned to inspect Peter. There was something about it, perhaps the dread pooling in his gut, that made him feel so very small. So utterly afraid. 

“And he was at my party.” The girl flashed Peter a brief smile as the man grunted in understanding. 

“It was a great party,” Peter’s voice broke out, though he had not felt himself open his mouth. “Really great, yeah. Beautiful house, lotta windows.” 

“You were there for like two seconds.” The girl’s eyes locked onto him - so bright and brown - as she offered a wry smile. 

“That was… I was there for longer than two seconds.” Peter’s voice stuttered.

“You disappeared.” The girl smiled, rolling her eyes fondly. 

“No, no I didn’t disappear.”

“Yes, you did.” She laughed. “You disappeared like you always do, like in DC, too.” 

The car paused at a red light. 

“Whew.” The man exhaled. “That’s terrible what happened down there in DC, though. Were you scared?”

The dread in Peter’s stomach twisted until it knotted. There was… something on that man’s face, some kind of burgeoning recognition. He looked to Peter with sharp eyes, voice cutting as he spoke again. 

“I’ll bet you were glad when your old pal Spider-Man showed up in the elevator, huh?” 

Something about the name… oh, he knew that name. He knew this Spider-Man, knew it like the call of an old friend. Like a wave from a window, an old shirt lost in a wardrobe that still fit perfectly. 

“Yeah, well, I actually didn’t go up.” His voice stuttered again, though Peter did not feel his mouth open. “I saw it all from the ground. Very lucky that he was there that day.” 

The man’s eyes remained fixed on Peter. He did not blink, did not shift to glance at the traffic lights nor flicker to spy the girl in the backseat with the beautiful hair. 

“Good old Spider-Man.” The man’s brows raised in mocking as he spoke, voice low and dangerous. 

For a moment, Peter was trapped under the weight of the man’s watching. Out of the corner of his eye, he knew the girl was looking between the two of them, but he could hardly see it. Instead, he remained fixed by that judging stare. 

“Dad,” the girl huffed, “the light.”

Peter’s eyes darted to it, almost wincing as they were caught by bright green. 

It was a shade he knew. Not only in the mundane, but in something far more deadly. It brought the rush of water to his ears - a pounding of his heart as his breaths grew shallow. The edges of the world flickered, dimming like a candle trapped in a jar. The car felt smaller, seats felt colder. And though Peter could hardly see anymore, though his vision was filled with that awful green, he could still feel the weight of the man’s stare - so knowing, so very amused. 

“Here we are.” It spoke over the roar of water, over the echoes of screams. “End of the line.” 

His cheeks felt damp, his hair soaked. His breath was ragged and dishevelled - arms slipping from by his side as he fell and fell and fell. He slipped through the green, through the stinging wet that he’d been born within. He slipped through the dirt, through the gravel and dust that he’d been buried inside. 

But finally, as his heart pounded so hard that he thought it might burst, Peter gasped awake.

*

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58015915

[lemongrovesandcloves]

sneak peak of chapter 8

Mime of Gotham City, only on ao3.

*

Mime was… well, he was breathtaking. 

His gymnastic talent was evident in each thrust and swivel of his hips as the guy gyrated with the GoGo dancer. Her hands gripped his shoulders - long nails pressing the yellow mesh, dug into the skin below. His trousers were flared below the knee but tight around his thighs, cropped low enough to reveal his bellybutton and the thin trail of hair leading down. 

Tim flushed as he watched the guy spin and twist, the effortless control in every moment. The crowd around them was eating it up, Joker laughing wildly from the sidelines as though he’d orchestrated the entire thing. Maybe he had. Perhaps in this sidekick’s training there had been this aspect, this tutorial in how to dance like the women around him. Their hands all clutched at him as more of the dancers joined the shuffle - long fingernails pressing into the mesh of his shirt as the women swayed him.

*

next chapter should be out by next weekend. get ready for some bi panic from Tim, some shenanigans from Gotham's rogues, and Peter Parker drinking an entire bottle of vodka.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58015915/chapters/147699286

[lemongrovesandcloves]

words cannot express how honoured I am to have made something that inspires other people to create such incredible things. it's different to my imagination, but utterly and perfectly forged. like a refined version of the messy Mime in my story, how Peter sees himself in his best moments. from the way it so beautifully captures how his costume mocks his autopsy scars, to the ruffle that looks exactly like how I pictured, it's just exceptional. words cannot express how truly grateful and amazed I am that such a wonderful piece of art could be made out of my story. so thank you again to ssolivagant for making this, and I hope other people love it just as much as me :D x

“The Mime of Gotham City” fanart!!

[lemongrovesandcloves]

sneak peek of The Mime of Gotham City

only on ao3

*

“Someone owes me a Zesty.” Tim demanded, flopping onto the sofa beside Duke. 

“You got a good sample?”

“I got a good sample.” He confirmed with a tired grin. “Just need to run the DNA for a few hours and we should know who’s behind the clown paint.” Tim shuddered absentmindedly. 

A Zesty was placed into his open hand - the cool can like ice against his worn fingers. 

“So, do you think we’ll get anything from his DNA, or is this another one of those ‘it’s a dead end, try again’ kinda nights?“ Duke asked, leaning his head against the plush couch  - eyes closed as helmet out a slow exhale. 

“It’s not a dead end if we keep on digging.” Tim retorted, taking a sip of his Zesty. “It’s got to give us something. It’s been a long enough time without answers.”

“Really? Time?” Duke cracked an eye open, lips pulling into a smirk. “Thought you were the ‘speedy results’ guy. This Mime dude is really ruining your brand as resident genius.” 

“Genius is overrated.” Tim rolled his eyes, though a faint smile tugged at his lips - quickly concealed as he chugged another mouthful of drink. “I’m just persistent.”

“That’s a nice way to phrase it. Other people would say you’re obsessive about mysteries.” Duke laughed as Tim raised a brow. “Hey, I said other people!” He raised his hands in mock surrender. 

“Whatever you say.”

*

just posted chapter 6 - figured I'd leave a lil tease of the next one ;D

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58015915/chapters/147699286

[lemongrovesandcloves]

sneak peak of chapter 5 of Gatsby of Gryffindor Tower

only on ao3

Hermione Evans was an enigma. 

Though everyone at Hogwarts seemed to know of her - from the seventh years that nodded her way in the corridors, to the Slytherins that all gave her a wide birth in the library (only a handful that would deign to join her table) - few truly knew the frizzy-haired Hufflepuff. 

In his three years as a Gryffindor, James Potter had been one of the many that knew of but not about the Hufflepuff girl. He knew she was helpful, that she spent most of her time with Kingsley Shacklebolt (a fellow third year Hufflepuff) and Xeno Lovegood (a third year Ravenclaw), but he didn’t know where she spent her time or what it was that she and Lily Evans got up to when the pair snuck off on Sundays. 

Sometimes, though he’d never admit it, the Gryffindor boy liked to watch her. Whether at mealtimes or in classes, there was something about her that kept drawing him in. Maybe it was her brilliant curls - raucous and wild, the colour of copper coins. It was different to her sister’s flat locks, almost red when compared to the true orange of Lily Evans. Or, perhaps, it was those pale eyes that Sirius always lamented as creepy. They were a watery shade that were difficult to track - not like Lily’s emerald irises that felt so obvious as she glanced between people. 

There was nothing about Hermione Evans that could be described as plain. Not her looks, not her smile - crinkling lopsided as her head would shake a little with amusement - nor her eclectic style of corduroy trousers and girls blouses on weekends under embroidered jumpers with squarish necklines. She stood out from the other girls in their year who always wore skirts and dresses, even her sister donning long florals that matched her name. 

And she was perhaps the smartest person he’d ever met. Though Lily’s hand would always shoot up in class to answer questions, it was Hermione that scored highest on essays and tests. Her marks at the end of first and second year had apparently rivalled those of Professor Dumbledore’s, and all their teachers seemed to believe she’d trump his OWL marks when she took them. Not that she spent much of her time studying in the library, none more than a few hours a few times a week - tucked in a chair close to her sister as she offered insights into what books to find sources in, or what phrases the professors wanted written in assignments. 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62187958/chapters/159079675#workskin

[lemongrovesandcloves]

this is the most spectacular illustration of Mime from my Joker and Spider-Man story !! I'm utterly in awe of how well it captures how I dreamed up the description and turned it to beautiful reality. from the spades along the bottom, to the ruffles along his autopsy scars, every detail is just utterly beautiful. I mean, words cannot express how brilliant this is in all the depth it deserves. it's just perfect.

all my love and gratitude to you @milkchocolatewithtoast ! I'm so sorry I didn't see this before, and so flabbergasted you took the time to draw my Peter for me. thank you so much, and I'm sorry it took me so long to say that xx

@lemongrovesandcloves I finally went around to doing that drawing i said i would!!! I put in a little blue to tie the yellow and green together as a little tribute to spideys costume! Ik i made the clothes a bit baggy, but i wanted a rlly big contrast between how skintight the robin suit was and also to counter balance how sharp Jokers design always its :333

Hope u like itt

[lemongrovesandcloves]

cover art for 'Gatsby of Gryffindor Tower'

an AO3 fic under the tag Hermione Granger/James Potter

premise:

The Evans family were proud to say that they were perfectly peculiar, thank you very much. They lived in a perfectly peculiar home, with three perfectly peculiar daughters. Petunia Evans, the eldest of the lot, and twin girls named Lily and Hermione.

Hermione Evans had always known where she came from. Reborn into a time before her own, into a family she knew only from stories of a brave witch and rotten aunt, the most daunting task befell her.

How does a time-displaced witch prevent the future she knew all too well? How could she save her sister, her friends, from fates of death and loss? Worse, how could she manage that with James Potter’s raucous affections fixed upon herself instead of the sister he was meant to love instead?

[lemongrovesandcloves]

[lemongrovesandcloves]

a sprinkle of memes for my Spiderman/batfam fic 'What Goes Up Must Come Down'

premise: a 'what-if' Dr Strange's spell is polluted by the wizard's own selfish desires? the answer, Peter Parker ends up in Gotham City as a clone of Nightwing. without memories of his life in Queens and under the care of Slade Wilson, Parker faces a struggle of identity and a Court of Owls on his tail ...

currently 6/8 completed x

[lemongrovesandcloves]

amazing lil meme made by one of my readers ! genuinely made me cackle :D

(special thanks to ICraveAngst on ao3 for making my day) xx

chapter can be found here:

[lemongrovesandcloves]

opening of chapter 6 of 'What Goes Up Must Come Down'

Spider-Man in Gotham (except without memories) as Deathstroke's sidekick and Nightwing's clone - currently only on AO3

"

Parker woke alone, now. There was no hand on his shoulder to shake him out of slumber, no cackles of a blonde menace flopping on his bed or knock of an excited teen yelling about breakfast and cartoons. Instead, the morning brought with it silence. 

There was no birdsong in central Gotham. In the manor, it had been a welcome change. At first, the squawks had driven Parker a little mad. It was something he had never heard before and that brought with it the mild irritation of knowing just how small his world was. But over time, with each gentle rousing, he had acclimated to the chirping. 

He missed it, now. The faint flutter of batwings in the caves below, the creak of floorboards as a half dozen people waltzed through the heinously large manor. Parker’s heart ached at the quiet solitude - the lack of Signal’s beaming giggles and Agent A’s careful hand on his shoulder to steer him away from hot pans and snatched pastries. 

He thought he might even miss Batman. The way the man just knew that Parker was struggling - hands over the clone’s ears and soothing smile as he helped calm the thunder of the world to gentle humming. Slade had never quite tolerated Parker’s sensory struggles. It was always a mark of his defectiveness. A product designed well but tuned poorly, ripped too soon from his cocoon of glass. 

Slade was… disappointed. Parker had betrayed his trust by lingering with the bats, and so did not deserve the faint kindness of the time before. 

Life could be split like that. The before, the Bats, and the after. 

In the before, Slade had played records in the evening, given Parker novels and stories. The man had answered all of Parker’s endless questions, even if with a resigned huff beneath each detailed explanation. He had baked him cake for his birthday. There was no birthday cake anymore. Now the clone was almost half a year old, he was too aged for all those small comforts. Trained up as a perfect sidekick, he did not deserve the treatment of the before. 

When they went out, he did not get earplugs. His arms remained at his sides, though his hand itched to hold Slade’s. After missions, he was simply handed a med kit and sent to his room. When he misbehaved, Parker’s flinch brought no retribution. After all, the clone wasn’t even worth punishing for his transgressions, not when he punished himself enough each time.

Or, a traitorous voice whispered in the darkest depths of his mind, Slade simply did not care to bother. 

"

[lemongrovesandcloves]

The Mime of Gotham City

a lil snippet of chapter three - only available on ao3 :)

"

The Red Hood was not a nice man. 

Jason Todd had been a kind boy, though. Sweet in that foolish way that all kids are, so desperate to help the city that pissed on him daily. 

Odd jobs for old ladies, walking neighbourhood children up to daycare… little shit that made such a tiny yet profound difference. It had felt natural to extend it further. To mess with motorbikes used by gang members, to steal enough gas masks from trucks to outfit his whole neighbourhood. 

Hell, he’d stolen the wheels of the Batmobile with the goal of reverse engineering the bulletproof capabilities. 

What was he on about? 

Oh… yeah. He’d been an alright kid. 

He wasn’t so much of that, now. Not after that kind boy’s life was cut violently short. Not after Jason had clawed his way from dirt, had forced his flesh to contort to humanity anew as he stumbled blind and furious. 

A few years of traumatising his family, gallivanting the world to do the fucked shit no one else would, and watching half his friends die and the other half retire… well, Red Hood wasn’t exactly a big believer in human kindness. 

That fact, the bitter truth that there were more shitheads than decent folk, was so utterly transparent in the chill in the air. It was evident in the soft ripple of warning that rolled up his spine, in the eerie silence as he stared from his perch at the window of the warehouse. 

 The job for this evening was supposed to be relatively simple. A couple of Joker’s goons had showed up in Black Mask’s territory, and word had gotten out of some kind of trade happening in the warehouses tonight between the gangs. 

“Not a lot of muscle for a shipment.” He muttered over his coms, eyes focused on the trucks rolling out of the warehouse before him. 

“I’m checking cameras, but I can’t see any backup,” Oracle’s frown was audible as the soft clatter of keys rung over the line. “Heads up, the big bat is on his way.”

Jason let out a grunt. 

“He’s worried.” She spoke gently. “This feels… odd.” 

He didn’t bother to hide his snort at that. Of course it felt off. It was Joker. When had that clown ever done anything that felt normal? 

“I think my intel may have been off.” he begrudged, eyes flicking over the trucks until they settled on a faintly green gleam, flittering through the windows of the warehouse. 

“How so?” Oracle replied, her voice faint as Jason’s eyes narrowed on the flickers from the warehouse. 

“There is no deal.” He grunted. “But there’s… something in the warehouse.”

“I can send backup.”

He snorted in reply. 

“Just the Big bat or is there a little bird on the way, too?” 

“Big bat. He’s almost at your location.”

With a huff, Jason flicked his coms on mute. Of course Babs would ‘offer’ backup that was already on the way - the worst person to fight by his side, really. In his brief stint with his former family (though he wondered whether such a title was warranted, considering most of the birds had shown up after his demise), Jason had quickly learned just how little his opinion seemed to matter to them. It was such a simple thing, to agree to having backup, yet each time that support was already on the way before he could confirm whether he needed them. 

His say on the matter was pretty moot to them. Even if he refused their help, they were waiting in the shadows and expecting him to fail. All so some teenager in lycra could natter about how right Oracle was, or how Jason was foolish for refusing aid. 

It was inevitable. And it was fucking annoying. 

Arching his grapple, he shot through the upper window of the warehouse. At least he had a little time to investigate before Batman would crash the party, grouching and mistrusting each of Jason’s gestures. 

The intel had been a trap. 

"

[lemongrovesandcloves]

sneak peak of chapter 32 of 'Unfriendly Neighbourhood's Spider-Man'

"

9th November 2014

It was an odd experience, Peter decided, to see your once-lost adoptive father just walking down the street. 

Ethan Bennett looked almost as he did in Peter Bennett’s memories. Equally as tall and strong - hair cropped close to his skull, donning a familiar thick brown jacket over navy and grey. It was the similarity to Uncle Bennett that had shaken the teen. As much as his recollection of his dad were distorted by time, his memories of his uncle still blazed true and familiar. And Ethan Bennett looked like his brother. A little older - certainly scruffier and bigger - but so similar that it burned. 

He was akin to fantasy, really. A spectre of a better life, a reminder of an an uncle that had poured his soul into the care of an adopted child that was thrust upon him unwillingly. 

And the pair were stuck. Frozen on the sidewalk as Gothamites brushed past - Steph and Duke rigid at Peter’s side as former father and once-son stared at each other, unmoving and unblinking. 

Peter wondered what his dad must have seen in that moment. His eyes were wide, flittering his form as though cataloguing each difference and growth from toddler to teen. Shoulders tense and brow pinching as the man inhaled a sharp breath, finally gazing at the two by Peter’s side. A flash of recognition crossed his eyes and he tensed further, almost hunching into himself. 

"

chapter should be up by next Wednesday (provided the editing/tweaking goes according to schedule) ! the story is only on ao3 - can be found here: