Tim Drake is responsible for the majority of Gotham's streams of the song skater boy by Avril Lavigne. This is because he keeps captivating people with his autistic goblin rizz. They play this song while daydreaming about wooing him by bringing the bedraggled rat boy at the skate park a zesti like they're y/n herself. Sometimes they don't even realise that That's Tim Drake Wayne. He's a cute, skrungly Thing™ that you could either fix or make worse depending on your romantic daydreams.
What drives me even more insane about this scene is how you'd expect Gojo to imagine High school era! Geto in the crowd. Or at least not the cult leader, worst of all the curse users Geto Suguru. But no, it's the cult leader Geto. It's Geto as Gojo last remembered him. As Geto last was. Whatever choices Geto made, wherever his choices led him and them, however he was, whoever he was, traumas and messed up ideas and bad choices and ill reputations and scorns and all. Gojo wanted Geto Suguru there. Not any ideal version. Not any "what if" version. Not any "at some point in time before things went downhill" version. Not any "when your hands weren't stained with innocent blood" version. He knew very well what he wanted. And he wanted it all the same. He wanted Geto Suguru. However he was. He just wanted him to be there. He just wanted him to be.
And he didn't want him to help him, he didn't want him to fight with him even if they were strongest together and always fought together for a while. He just wanted him to be there in the crowd and cheer him on. He just wanted him to stand there and give him one of his sweet, heartwarming smiles that shaped his eyes into crescent moons. He just wanted him to be. Then even if Gojo had died in the end anyway, he would have been satisfied. It would have been worth it. Only if Geto was there.
I think another clear theme of Spiderverse is that, as we’re told in the first movie, anyone can be Spider-Man. But in the second movie, Miguel tells us that Spider-Man has rules. Certain things have to happen, certain people have to die, certain people aren’t meant to be Spider-Man. And the message there is that, once someone makes those kinds of rules, you run. Because it’s just not true. Anyone, literally anyone, can be Spider-Man. There is no requirement. We’ve been shown you don’t even need to be bitten by a spider!
And with the amount of people comparing Spiderverse to the queer experience, this is especially important. There are no rules to being queer. There are no labels that are exclusive. There are no labels that are even required. As soon as someone says you can’t be queer in a certain way, or certain identities don’t ‘count’ for whatever reason, you need to run. They are liars. There are no rules, and there never have been. You are queer because you said so, and this is your decision alone.
If you decide you’re Spider-Man, then you’re Spider-Man. And if you decide you’re going to save everyone you can, then you will. It’s as simple as that.
Jason takes a deep breath. He takes a deep breath, in for ten seconds, out for eight, and just takes a minute before looking again. Nope, there’s still the strange quartet of orbs in the box of what should be stolen weapons (What, the government had enough, honestly) that gave his workers the heebie-jeebies.
Which is not the vibe he gets from them. In fact, he’s actually kind of concerned with how much he has to beat the Pit back with how quickly it lurches to latch onto the… Well they’re not gems, and he’s a little wary about touching them at first, but the Pit does seem to settle when he does.
Alright, he can deal with this. It’s not like he has several heads in a duffel bag that needs to be delivered or a tiny assassin child back in his safehouse (Seriously Talia, why was he the preferred babysitter?) or an entire gang in Crime Alley to deal with. It’ll be fine.
…
He would like to curse out his past self, because there’s now four babies in his safehouse that appeared to have fucking hatched from the orbs. Goddamnit.