#or dick grayson for that matter

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

in reference to your "if you like tom taylor's writing you're white" post, could you possibly elaborate? i don't want this to sound rude so i'm a little nervous about sending but!! i like his writing, i am also white, and i would like to know any issues in his writing that i can look out for so i can enjoy it critically. i realize i'm not entitled to an answer, but if you feel like it then i would appreciate it greatly!

Of course darling.

Now, I was just going to talk about some dumb plotlines if this ever came up (like the telenovela shit and the fact that he uses cameos from beloved stories to make up for the fact that very little of his plotlines are original) but I didn't expect such a genuine answer and I have some free time... so I guess I'm doing doing a breakdown of all of the bullshit in his writing.

For the record: I'm not going to speak on how he handles disabled people. It's neither on topic nor my place. Several people have done this well here, here, and here if this interests you.

There are two main reasons why (tw for a bunch of stuff, don't read if you're sensitive):

How he treats race

I bring to the stand: "the romani smile incident".

Listen, I feel like this one was good-intentioned. Maybe. Probably. However, it's just so fucking weird from every angle I try and look at it from.

Telling someone they have a "(insert race here) smile" is already just... a very strange way to do representation. If you want to call back to/confirm his Romani heritage, which I would be all for, do it in a way that makes sense. Please. Literally anyone that thought about it for longer than half a second stopped and went "sorry, what the fuck".

I saw some people theorizing that he probably thought that, since there's such thing as a "white person smile", there had to be something like that for other races. And I hope that's the case.

It's funny... and also way better than the alternative.

Because there is a phrase like that for Romani people: "they had a (g-slur) smile". It generally means all of the things that are stereotyped about that culture. Mischievous, free-spirited, mysterious, etc. Changing it so the slur isn't used doesn't change the connotation and continues the perpetuation of stereotypes.

And then there's the entirety of this picture:

I don't even know where to start with this one, honestly.

Damian has been whitewashed to hell and back.

Duke isn't even there. He is considered part of the core batfam nowadays, so it's very strange that he hasn't been included. Especially since he's the only black character. Tom defended himself by saying that Duke hasn't appeared in a Nightwing comic in quite some time, but he has control over who is in the comics. He is the writer. And, since Cass is in the background of one of the pictures, the whole "there wasn't enough room!" doesn't really work.

And, speaking of that, Cass is in the background? The people of color are just not winning today. She's even in the background of Steph's picture, which makes it worse. Steph isn't even a part of the batfam, she can't be for the sake of Timsteph fans, she's just a family friend. Why did the family friend get to be in the front of the frame? Why is Cass, an Asian woman, considered a literal background character?

... anyways.

Then there's the zionism

This was 2013, so I genuinely would give the benefit of the doubt here... but Tom Taylor recently defended his past self by saying that "it's fiction, that doesn't mean I agree that he should have forced them to sign a peace treaty!", which means he still doesn't understand what is wrong with implying that the war in the middle east isn't a group of people trying to fight back against their oppressors.

2. Performative activism

The reason I have this second, despite feeling like it's the stronger argument, is because performative activism isn't strictly a White Person Thing... but, also, yes it is. So, let's get into his politics.

The treatment of homeless people: It's strange to see Dick Grayson suddenly "discover" homeless people in the most recent Nightwing comics, especially since he was homeless for a while in a previous run. I brushed past this, originally, though, because I figured he just wanted to address the recent talking point about how Bruce Wayne (and, by extension, his kids) should be using his money to help people in need rather than beat up the poor and I wanted to see what he did with it. I no longer let it go, because Tom Taylor has nothing to say. Homelessness bad. Yeah? You gonna address it at all, buddy? Some solutions? Some explanations for why homelessness exists? No? "Donate to the homeless" is all you're gonna say? Alright. Thank you for all your wisdom and new ideas, I guess.

The whole 'school gun violence' plotline with Jon was whack. It honestly deserves its own post, but I refuse to spend even more time thinking about it. Instead I'm just gonna sum up the villain's motivation and leave it there: the villain... wants school shootings to stop and therefore tries to draw attention to them... by shooting up a school.

Jon Kent... honestly, his whole thing at the moment is very white-savior-y, which is already annoying in itself, but that's not the real point here. His whole thing is saving the planet in the environmental sense, but Tom Taylor loves "good billionaires". He made Nightwing a billionaire. For some reason, I don't have much faith in his understanding of the global climate crisis.

Basically, if I see one more person call Tom Taylor a leftist I will scream. I am a leftist, he's an annoying liberal. We are not the same.

More seriously, the reason that I think performative activism is almost strictly White Person Thing, though, is because most people of color think more about what's going on and have more to say. Not because we want to know a lot about things like this, but because we have to. Systemic issues are our problems to deal with and white people's problem to sometimes talk about when they want some "good person points". And yet they never seem to do anything more than point at an issue and say it's an issue. It's a privileged position to be in.

And, we're done. If you want more information, try going through the 'anti tom taylor' tag. I'm lazy and don't have enough time to do any more before class. Byeeeee.

[sarcasticbeanie]

hm. is this anything.

[melmov]

Rescued

[andromarche]

Hear me out, whenever one of the batlings does something good/bad, Bruce responds accordingly by changing his last will and testament. Most of them don’t even need or care about the money/company/manor, but they treat it in the same way young kids treat a sticker chart.

The batkids regularly break into Bruce’s lawyers office to check if they got any more stickers and forge the will so they get a bigger cut (more stickers). Bruce’s lawyer regularly returns to their office in the morning to papers and ink everywhere, and batarangs lodged in the side of the desk.

The lawyer thinks Bruce is just very fickle. Like this is BRUCIE WAYNE we’re talking about. He’s said on the record that he thinks the moon is made of cheese, he writes his signature with a cute little heart next to it. Very loveable. Not the brightest or most likely to think hard about the long term. They’re convinced the frequent and glaringly obvious Batman/Robin break ins is because Batman is one of Brucie Wayne’s kids and wants to keep checking he’s in the will.

•••

Tim: *mentions off-hand that he’s been awake for 48hours on 12 straight black coffees and sheer-will*

Bruce: *furiously calling his lawyer to cut Tim out of his will and leave the company to Jason*

•••

Lawyer: *holding the coffee pot to head back to their desk, to see Nightwing riffling through the drawers*

Lawyer:

Nightwing: *takes the entire coffee pot and pours it into his mouth, not breaking eye contact*

Lawyer: *sigh* Top drawer, right side. Had to move it because Robin spilled ink in the other drawer last night.

Nightwing: *devious grin, writing out “I leave my entire fortune, company and properties to Richard Grayson-Wayne. To my son, Damian Wayne, I leave one penny. To all of my other children, I leave a crisp $20 bill and this message ‘divide it amongst yourselves’.” And perfectly forging Brucie’s signature, complete with a heart next to the name.*

•••

Tim: B! B! What’s this I hear about you leaving us all a $20???

Steph: I DIDNT GET LEFT ANYTHING

Bruce, knows he explicitly mentioned Steph in his will: Oh well, since you didn’t want to be legally adopted-

Steph: IM EMOTIONALLY AND FINANCIALLY ADOPTED. I CLAIM SQUATTER’S RIGHTS.

Dick, knowing he changed it last night before Steph’s weekly snoop of the will: On… this family?

Steph: NO JUST THE WILL! ITS ABOUT THE PRINCIPLE.

•••

Lawyer, upon seeing Brucie Wayne for the third time this week to change his will: So, who did what this week? Was it Batman again?

Bruce: What?

Lawyer: Don’t worry, I’m not going to rat out that Batman is your kid.

Bruce: Right, thank you. I appreciate it.

Lawyer: *thinking more about Bruce’s high public profile and how judgemental Gotham’s high society can be than the vigilante stuff* I can’t imagine how hard it must have been to become a father so young. You must have still been in high school!

Bruce, confused and committed to the bit: Yeah, me and his mother still speak sometimes. He keeps getting annoyed by his brothers taking the car out for joyrides.

Lawyer: I hear ya, my eldest just started driving, she loves it though and keeps taking the car to Metropolis randomly.

[cbartonscoffee]

I think I've never been more aware of just how many people only get their info of the batfam through fanfic. I finally started reading Red Robin (2009) and I can not believe how many things are blown out of proportion. Particularly about Dick and Damian.

First of all, Dick does try to put limits and he does get fed up with Damian's ways sometimes. Out of the three first interactions of them in the comic, at least in two he tells him to shut up. And one of those is when Damian starts to brag about being Robin and Tim being useless, he tells him to shut up twice.

Another thing about that moment, is that they treat it like Dick completely dismisses Tim and treats him as unimportant. He doesn't. He takes him seriously, he tells him he needs him, he tells him he views his as an equal, as someone capable. And he also tells him he's concerned about him and that he needs to start processing Bruce's death. Could that have been a little harsh? Yes, but he needed to do it without making Tim think there was room for him to be convinced about his theory because let's be honest, Tim would've taken anything less than complete refusal and tried to change his mind. And had he been wrong neither of them could have taken it.

Secondly, Dick is always left to shoulder the blame of kicking Tim out and of never reaching out. That's bull. And I need to make that clear. Tim was in a delicate point, he tells us this himself multiple times, but the decision to leave was completely made out of his own free will. Another thing he did was put space between him and the people on Gotham. We see only one time in which Dick tries to call him. Tim picks up and tells him he doesn't want to talk. This tells us that Dick respecting Tim's wish of space included almost no (or even no) contact, and Dick calling was not something Tim appreciated or encouraged.

Now. Going into the second year of the run, when he's back in Gotham, there's a few things to talk about and I'm still in the aftermath of Damian and Tim's fight.

I feel it's important to say that even if they are all family, more often than not they're doing their own thing. Like, Babs and Steph are in the Batcave while Dick and Damian are in Wayne Tower, Cass is said to potentially be in Hong Kong and we haven't even heard Jason be name-dropped except for the fact that he went on a rampage at some point.

So, Dick is immediately called away in League business. So he isn't there. Damian is behaving fairly civil besides being a brat, so no one wastes too much effort in correcting what he says. We need to think about the fact that this is a kid whose world was turned upside down multiple times in a short period of time, who has a need to be accepted, and who hasn't yet found his place. All this is to say, that if it's difficult to get him to eat breakfast there's no way they're controlling his every move and that's understandable.

So Dick is away, Damian is still trying to adapt, Alfred has his hands full and everyone else is doing something else.

The whole thing starts because Tim is being kind of cryptic about what he's doing with his hit list and Damian feels left out and goes looking for more. He finds his name in a hidden double side of the hit list marking him as a threat. He understandably feels hurt and angry, because he's a kid, and he's trying, and his predecessor who at this point doesn't even try with him anymore views him as something bad.

So in classic Damian fashion, he falls back on his upbringing and doesn't deal with the situation as one should, talking about it. Instead he cuts team line, hurting before being hurt. It could've been worse, we see in the panel that Tim doesn't have that much of a hard time getting safely to the ground. The problem is that he snaps and starts a full-blown fight he knows Damian won't back out off. (I'm pleased to add that after cutting his line Damian doesn't start anything else)

So they are fighting, Tim has the clear advantage and he knows this, we know this. And that's how Dick finds them. Having just returned from a JL mission, in the place where the Waynes were murdered, with Tim having overpowered Damian.

They go back to the cave and Damian shares his findings, and Dick understands. And Tim tells him he (Dick) knows why he (Tim) did it. Dick agrees, and tells him he should have tried to make it harder to find. Tim says he hadn't thought Damian would try or even care. Dick tells him Damian wants to be accepted.

All in all, so far the only thing this comic has proven to me is that there's a reason comics are the bomb and that fanon has gotten out of hand. I get making things out to be worse for the sake of a story, but everything surrounding these events is basically used as the foundation for Damian and Tim's relationship as well as Dick and Tim's and I don't think I've once read a fanfic where these events are portrayed correctly or even following the real motivations of the characters. This is a disservice to all of them and only serves to amplify the hate towards a character that doesn't deserve it. There's a lot of Damian hate going around. And it sucks. Mostly because people use his actions against Tim to justify it and honestly? I don't think you should be allowed to use that if you haven't read RR and understood what was going on.

[mysterycitrus]

also physically dick grayson should be (at absolute max) 5”7 as a male gymnast who can still actually do aerial work. however for maximum pain i put him closer to 5”10 so he constantly has to reckon with the fact that he’s taller than his father was and has now been changed irreversibly by leaving the circus

[shit-talker]

The only way I can rationalise people accepting literal children going out and fighting crime as Robin is if they don't think Robin is a real child.

I think it would be fun to see how Bruce would use that to his advantage in protecting his kids. Like, if people think Robin isn't human, if they instead think he's a spirit or a ghost, they are less likely to shoot at him, less likely to try and physically attack Robin because they think it would be no use.

The fun part would be deciding HOW they would do this. I like to think that Robin's domino mask doesn't have a hole for his eyes but instead is glazed over so that he can see out of it, but you can't see in. Maybe they install small lights in it so it looks like his eyes glow in the dark, because can you image how fucking scary it would be to just see these two sentient light-like eyes and just know the Batman must be lurking somewhere close by?

Maybe Bruce installs super strong magnets in their gloves because on the chance that someone does pull a gun on his kid close range, it would be a lot easier for them to grab the gun away if they had the force of magnetism on their side. Also, grabbing onto poles and other metal materials would make all the scaling on tall buildings a little safer. Obviously, they'd need a way to turn it on and off, but still. Can you imagine, you're in a warehouse and there are steel frames fucking everywhere and you look up and suddenly there's a child gripping onto one effortlessly? Horrifying.

Maybe they have a voice box. Want to scare people? Play this really ominous recording of a child's laughter that echoes just a bit too loud to be normal. Play this ominous screaming that seems too silent to be real. Play this ticking that seems to never end that induces stress and increases the chance of them messing up.

What would be even funnier is keeping this act up with the Justice League and other teams.

Batman doesn't bring Robin to these meetings at the beginning because he sees no need to involve a preteen in such matters, but at some point the subject does come up and it's sort of like; So, Bats, what exactly is the kid? Like...is he yours?

And Bruce (paranoid as fuck) doesn't want to admit to these people that yes, Robin is my son because hello? That's gotta be his biggest weakness, he would do anything to keep that kid safe and fuck them if they ever tried to hurt him to get to Bruce.

So, he tells them that he's a spirit sent to haunt him and remind the city of it'd failures and the Justice League just... believe him?? Because this is Batman, and why would Batman ever lie about something so, frankly, strange? And it's not a huge deal, like they're a team comprised of metas and aliens and literal godesses, so what if the one normal human guy has a weird little ghost child? Who cares if he cares about it like it's a real boy? Maybe the baby spirit has rights, too!! They don't know!

So, when the JLA gets more popular and becomes an actual, legal part of the American government, they're required to list all of their members. And they class Batman as a human, because that's obvious but next to Robin, they don't really know what to say or how to ask Batman about it, ao they just put "Unknown Child Spirit - TBD"

And then just... never change it?

So, they don't question why a few years later Robin seems to look entirely different, or why after that he changes again, or why Robin is suddenly a girl for a while before going back to a little boy. That's obviously just some weird spirit thing they don't understand, and it's not like Batman is going to explain it!

[deadsetobsessions]

Listen, I know it’s not my usual thing, but I just re-read Dark Matter by mysterycyclone (iconic, so good, incredible, I’ve reread this at least ten times) and this newer work, Help Me, I Don’t Feel Like Myself Anymore by Astra_Nova_Kat (it’s off to a really good and fleshed out, very long start- it’s like 20k for the first chapter omg).

I just. Love?? Them??? They’re both, urg, so good. The writing style, the way the story moves, the natural progression of plot and their usage of tropes are so well done that rarely does it feel awkward. Amazing. Anyways, they inspired me to put my two cents into the proverbial offering hat and while this might not ever be a realized fanfic, here it is? This will have multiple parts.

Uh, I’m basing Peter’s personality off of the really tired millennial energy Tobey Maguire gives, the awkward but well meaning disaster vibes of Andrew Garfield, and the sassy acrobatic chaos gremlin of Tom Holland. All kind of mushed together with the hyper competence and maturity of both the PS4 spidey and pretty much most spider people. He’s 22, or something but that doesn’t really matter?? Background doesn’t really matter because I’m basically making my own spider-verse. Spider… past? Eh. New Peter!

Spider in Gotham AU- Pt.1

[Pt.2]

——

Spider-Man swung through the skyscrapers of his city, enjoying the winds and sounds of New York as he kept a sharp eye out for crime.

He remembered doing this without any of the fancy tech his suit had now, when he was dressed in less protective clothing. God, 100% cotton while crime fighting? The spandex was better but god ugly.

His spider-sense blared. Spider-man quickly shot a web to the top of the building, going towards the danger instead of away from it.

He goes in feet first, years of knocking common thugs to legitimate gods to the ground making short work of the people on the roof top. He flips out of the way, dodging a blast of crackling green energy.

“Heyyyy, common robbers! What’s up with shiny lasers, huh? Breaking and entering not doing enough for ya?”

Spider-Man dodges a couple more shots, flipping again to knee a guy in the face, gently. The man goes down in one shot.

“Stay still, you motherfucker!”

“Does that actually work for you guys?? Like I’m down to get killed but, man, I’m not gonna stay still to get downed by some two bit thugs?” Spider-Man kept his words light and mocking, webbing up a laser gun and yanking it out of the woman’s hands. He punches her in the face and knocks her out, using the laser gun like a mildly bulky baton.

“Eat shit, Spider-bitch!”

“Ouch! Oh no, my feelings! You’ve hurt them!” Spider-Man shoots a web at the lady who’d shouted and yanked, before smacking her straight down to the concrete of the rooftop. His hearing picked up two people coming up the stairway and Spider-Man tossed two web bombs, the metal mechanism attached itself to the wall, waiting for their unknowing victims.

Spider-Man ducked and weaved, downing goons as they piled on him while shooting bullets, lasers, and just charging at him with a bat or a crowbar. After eight years of pretty much this exact thing, Spider-Man had gotten the science of breaking up goon dog piles without hurting them too much to an exact measurement. He quipped at them until they got annoyed, which made them sloppy. Spider-Man sighed as another guy came at him with a crow bar and a gun that he was pretty sure was still stuck on safety. He crouched, kicking out their legs and dodging a swipe of a bat where his ribs would have been and webbed the guy to the floor. Yeah, he’ll wrap this up and end patrol. Maybe he still had Mac n’ Cheese at home, or he could stop by Angelo’s for a sub?

Huh. His options for dinner was limited.

“Take this!”

Even without the forewarning of his spidey-sense, Spider-Man would have ducked out of the way regardless.

“Shouting your sneak attacks isn’t actually all that sneaky, you know!” Spider-Man kept his voice cheery and mocking.

“Get him!”

God, why were there so many people trying to break into an insurance company? This definitely doesn’t smell like a regular B&E. With the shit he’s seen in New York, if it smells like a plot, acts like a plot, then it’s probably a villain with a tragic backstory with big, annoying plans.

Great.

Oh, speak of the devil!

“Spider-Man.” His senses blared.

He couldn’t move out of the way fast enough, not without risking the life of the goon he was currently fighting, so Spider-Man took the blast the punched the breath out of his lungs. The wide eyes of the goon made up for some of the pain.

“Ugh!” Spider-Man slammed into an HVAC, denting the metal. His suit, made special polymer blend from Wakanda that he saved for months to get, absorbed some of the shock. Shit, he hoped it didn’t tear. It would be a bitch and a half to dip into the back up stock he had in his hammer space.

The goons left standing quickly rushed him and held him down to face the new boss.

“You’ve been getting on my nerves, Spider.”

“Yeah,” Spider-Man coughed out, letting the two goons think they could hold him down on his knees as he recovered his breath. “I have that effect on people.”

“But you could be an asset, if you’d join me?”

“Uh, I don’t join or sign things without knowing what I’m joining or signing, my guy. My lawyer said so.”

The villain paused, helmeted head cocking to the side.

“You have a lawyer?”

“Yeah. Kind of? He does pro-bono work for the helpless cases. You know, like, a well meaning, crime fighting vigilante?”

“…Does he do cases against insurance companies?”

“Oh man, you too? Dude, this place sucks,” Spider-Man sighed.

“You’ve had trouble too? Then you must see why I’m doing this!”

This was a bit weird, but if there’s anything that brings people together, it’d be corrupt insurance companies. He’s almost tempted to let them break in, just to be extra petty.

“Nah, my neighbor? Sweet old lady. They’re screwing her out of her entire place. I totally get it, man. Hey, if you need a referral, you can tell my lawyer that Spider sent you. He’s real good.”

“How good?” The goons release him and Spider-Man stood up, stretching his limbs.

“Like, Dare Devil good.”

“You know Matt Murdock??”

“Sure do.”

“He… he’ll take on our cases?”

“Dang, all of you?”

“Yes. We can pool enough money to pay him for one or two.”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure he’ll take you guys on for free. But it wouldn’t hurt if you all went to meet him, just so he can decide which one of you has a higher chance to win in court?”

“We will. Uh.” The villain paused sheepishly. Well, not a villain, more like an unfortunately angry and poor decision making citizen. “Sorry about… you know, the blast.”

“It’s cool. I mean,” Spider-Man gestured to the rooftop, the bodies of unconscious people kind of laying around where he knocked them down. “You guys might wanna check on them, yeah? I’ll let you go for now, but if you commit a B&E again, I’ll leave you webbed up for GCPD to find.”

“Got it. Sorry.”

Feeling good about himself, and plotting corporate espionage, Spider-Man went to help pry some people from his webs.

And of course, because Parker Luck kicks in only when Spider-Man felt like life was looking up for himself, Spider-Man’s senses blared once more as he knelt down to pull at some webbing.

“Oh, shit!” He heard, right before a cold blast of something slammed right into his head, knocking him out.

And Spider-Man

F

E

L

L.

——

Larry looked at the the empty space where Spider-Man, the guy who took a hit from his boss’ blaster so he wouldn’t get hurt, used to be.

He twisted.

“Boss, what the fuck?!”

“Shit! That was accident!” Boss pulled herself up from the concrete, where she just ate dirt.

“Where did he go?”

“I don’t know, Larry! That was the experimental warped mode! Crap!” His boss scrambled with the controls, desperately trying to see if the magic gun her magician friend had handed her years ago had a reverse button. It didn’t.

“Why would you bring a test weapon into the field?!”

“I gave you all of my other ones!” She threw up her hands. “Fuck, I feel so bad.”

Larry paled. “Dude, Dare Devil’s gonna kill us.”

“He doesn’t kill!” His boss hesitated. “I think.”

Larry pointed to the empty space. “Yeah? He might start with us. Spidey was a cool guy and you just disappeared him!”

“I know!”

Larry buried his head into his hands and tried not to hate himself for the entire situation.

——

Spider-man woke up, laid flat on the grimy ground of an alleyway.

“Ugh. Just my luck.” He kept his eyes closed for just a beat longer to allow himself time before having to pull his shit together. Why was his voice high? And a bit squeaky? He pulled himself together.

“Okay.” He whispered to himself, before sitting up and taking stock of the situation.

First thing that hit him was that it stunk to high heavens. Gagging, Spider-Man looked to the right and- yeah, that’ll do it. He stood up on wobbly legs to try to move away from the overflowing dumpster.

That’s when the second, more important and decidedly more troublesome, observation hit him.

He’s short. Shorter. And his suit was hanging off of him.

He could tell he still had his normal by now physiology, with the speeding heartbeat and the feeling of super strength. But he’s shorter. With a mounting sense of equal parts dread and resignation, he pulled at the hidden seam by his nape, relying on his both his enhanced senses and spidey-sense to tell if anyone was nearby or looking at him. He pulled the Spider-Man suit off, blankly folding it neatly as he stared dumbly at his hands. They’re small too. Shit. He stumbled to a nearby mud puddle and stared down, seeing his younger face in the contaminated water. Double shit.

He’s starting to loose his composure. He’d gone through a lot of bizarre things over the last eight years. But getting accidentally Detective Conan’ed by a person he just helped was a new low.

The black under layer of his suit, a slash proof and fire resistant polymer Peter had designed himself in MIT’s lab, was in a similar state.

With one hand, Peter Parker numbly rolled up his sleeves and pant hems. Great. Okay. Now what?

Ah. Shoes. He did not want to walk around in his too-big Spider-Man boots. He looked around. Well, there’s the laces of what looked to be like a pair of dumpster shoes. “Yeah, no.”

Shit. Does he still have access to his hammer space?

Peter reached into his pocket, and tried to reach for a pair of normal sneakers. His shoulder slumped as he produced a pair. Fuck yes. He still has access! And shoes! They’re ones he took off of a power line for a well off kid who didn’t want it anymore. He was going to donate them to F. E. A. S. T. but he’s thanking the stars he procrastinated a bit on swinging by the center. He put them on. They’re a bit big, but it’s better than the giant-in-comparison ones he normally wears. You know, as an adult.

He hesitated with his mask. He should at least figure out where he is. He hoped it was still in the states. His mask blinked, the HUD in his lenses informing him that it was trying to find a connection. “That’s weird.” He paused, grimacing at the sound of his voice. But it is weird, because he had his mask automatically connected to the world wide satellites Tony Stark had sent circling the globe for citizens without internet access as a back up option. So either he was somewhere even the Stark Satellites couldn’t reach or…

Peter swallowed, his mask pinging as it found a connection to piggy back on. He clicked his tongue twice to activate the voice controls.

“Connect to the local maps. Where am I?”

His masked followed the order. [Gotham. New Jersey.]

Peter stared at the words, gut churning.

Good news, he was still in the States. Bad news? He’s shrunk, in a totally different state, and possibly in a different world because he’s not connected to the Stark Satellites he knew operated in New Jersey.

Peter Parker tilted his head back and allowed himself one verbal, panic level six and up, curse word.

“Fuck.”

He took off his mask and leaned against a slightly cleaner part of the wall before hyperventilating.

——

Half an hour later, Peter smacked himself on the cheeks and pulled himself together.

“You’re Spider-Man,” he hissed to himself. “Have a mental breakdown somewhere warm, you dumbass.”

Peter Parker was a champion, world class expert at compartmentalization.

He slipped his mask back on, and pulled up his “So You’re Stuck in an Alternate Universe” list he had made with Ned so many years ago when they were high school kids and going through comic books to make contingencies because Peter was a little idiot vigilante hero.

“I didn’t think I’d actually ever need this kind of thing.” Peter muttered. He slipped his black back up gloves on to connect to his mask’s display in order to type.

“Okay,” he glanced at the side by side screens in his lenses. “Money.”

Five things.

1) The emergency cash he’d stashed on him thankfull matched the pictures of cash he’d found on this world’s internet. Yay!

2) He had $1000 tucked away. Not yay. Not if this might be a long term stay before he got back to his own dimension. Not if he wanted a place to sleep.

3) Luckily, thanks to his earlier search of where the hell he was, Peter figured out that due to the high crime rates- “Dang, that’s worse than New York on New Year’s Eve,” he had marveled- Gotham was dirt cheap and that that meant 1k dollars could actually last him a while and he could afford a room for a month on $250. A whole ass apartment for $550. Peter seriously considered staying in this universe just for the rent prices. So what if there’s rampant crimes? He’d deal with it if the rent was that cheap.

4) Problem? He’s fucking tiny. Who would rent to a person that looked like child? Not anyone upstanding, that’s for sure. He’s more likely to get mugged. Counterpoint: he’s in a city where apparently shady people are all around. Also? He doesn’t have an identity.

5) If the fact that he couldn’t connect to the Stark Satellites didn’t convince him he was either in another universe or an alternate dimension, the visual graphics of the websites he visited would. It was like looking at Windows in the early way before Stark Co. bought them out and improved the design. Nauseating.

Okay, so, money’s not too urgent of an issue. Next on Ned’s list: Places of Interest.

Namely, libraries, homeless shelters, crime hotspots, and the like.

Peter snorted when he came across an opinions article talking about how Park Row became Crime Alley. And then he frowned, because that story was not painting this place to be even remotely nice. Then again, considering the crime rates and the various Rogues this place seemed to have in spades, that wasn’t much of a surprise. Peter marks the place in his new mental map of Gotham as a potential area he could either disappear to or get a new identity at. He then marked the libraries, Gotham City Public Library and its many branches all funded by generous donations from a Bruce Wayne, the Martha Wayne foundations’ shelters and charities, two supermarkets near the library, and a coffee shop he thought looked warm and cozy from the shitty pictures they have uploaded online. He needed coffee, dammit, and he needed it hours ago. Alas, he probably wouldn’t get to go to one until he secured his finances.

Well, it’s not like he doesn’t have practice being poor.

3) Which brings him up to Ned’s next, surprisingly reasonable for a teenager hoped up on a mountain load of sugar, point. Level of Tech.

Peter hid next to the dumpster, melding in with the shadows, as he continued his research.

Tech here was… well, he probably wouldn’t have to worry. The thought of not having a Starkphone, even his older model, was painful considering the new versions of these WaynePhones were really… behind. Peter doesn’t remember the last time he had buttons on his phone or let alone a touch screen that didn’t use facial tracking and biometrics or even have a holographic display mode.

“Ugh. Okay. Not the end of the world, Parker.” Peter muttered.

Now… People of Interest.

This was underlined three times with Ned’s red pens, with extensive subcategories.

Subcategory A? Villains, because “what if they put out a warning for a known villain and you get your butt kicked because you didn’t know about them, Peter? Wouldn’t that be embarrassing?”

He had replied, half focused on the list and the other on savoring the Millennium Falcon Lego set May had saved up for months to get him for his birthday, “I feel like if I was getting my butt kicked by a villain, I’d probably have better things to worry about than my utter humiliation, Ned.”

“True that,” Ned had snicked and jotted it down anyways.

And… well, Gotham had a lot of villains. The Joker (ew, that’s a crusty man in crustier face paint. This guy could learn so much from the cool mimes busking in Central Park. Like, how to do face paint. Or how not to be a massive murderous jerk. There’s Clayface, Two-Face, a bald guy in “Metropolis” (a name Peter couldn’t help but snort at because a city named city? That’s like na’an bread being bread bread. Or chai tea being tea tea) named Lex Luthor, and Scarecrow. He tabbed all of them and marked them for further perusal at a later date. From experience, he knew villains with a prominent M.O. and themes usually did more damage. Case in point: Rhino, and the million dollars of property damage the guy did everytime he escaped the Raft. Peter was seriously considering petitioning for the Raft to be placed further out just so he could have more warning the next time some assholes decided to free the prisoners and helped them escape.

He narrowed his eyes at the screen, his mask’s lenses following the movement. He’ll have to pick up a gas mask. Apparently bio-weapons are just a regular thing here and he really didn’t want to get dosed with this “fear toxin.” It’d be dangerous for everyone involved. Maybe if he gets his hands on a sample, he could build up tolerance and see how his immune system and metabolic rates affected the normal progression of the toxin. Ah, off topic. He’s gotta focus.

Subcategory B: Local celebrities.

“Why would I need to know local celebrities?” He’d asked.

“If someone came up to you and asked “Who’s Tony Stark?”, wouldn’t you clock that as super weird? You gotta blend in, Peter. Plus, you gotta keep up with the pop culture, dude. It’s important.”

“You just want alternate universe memes,” Peter grinned.

“That too. If you ever go to an alternate universe and come back, you’d better bring me a truckload of memes or I’ll never forgive you.”

Yeah. So. Wayne? Super important. Like Tony Stark levels of important. He found threads about them and the local vigilantes and their charity works. Peter’s brain instantly catalogued the info, all but memorizing the deluge of pictures he found of Bruce Wayne and his kids. Maybe the man had an adoption problem? Conspiracy threads and memes popped up alongside his research. He tabbed one on secret societies, because as Spiderman, he had fought a disturbing amount of secret societies that, on hindsight, had been theorized about on threads he’s read on his free time. Somehow, somewhere, somewhen, a conspiracy theorist could be right. Peter’s not about to dismiss that. He also saved like thirty different memes to send to Ned when he got back. If he got back.

Peter smacked that thought away. He’ll get back to his city or die trying.

Subcategory C, underlined and starred: Other Superheroes and Vigilantes.

Yeah, Peter’s excited about this one too. After Matt stopped being Dare Devil (but did he actually ever stop?) and Wade dipping in and out of NY, Peter’s gotten lonely as Spider-Man. He missed training with them. Of course, the fantastic four were still operating, but he doesn’t actually interact with them or the Avengers at all. Miles hasn’t been cleared (by his mom) to go out as Spiderman with near as many hours as Peter cleared a night. Peter stood behind that because he remembered how horrible it was to work as Spiderman and try to balance school on top of it. Also, he was terrified of Mrs. Morales and would never endanger her son more than he already does. He did wave to Black Widow from a rooftop once, spider to spider, and that was pretty much the coolest moment of his life.

So. Uh. The amount of vigilantes and heroes in this world? Amazing. In Gotham? There’s like, a whole team of them.

Batman, Nightwing (who, Username: Draken Draken had theorized, was the first iteration of Batman’s sidekick Robin), Red Hood, Black Canary, Huntress, Red Robin, Spoiler, the “day vigilante” Signal, the current Robin, and whispers of a “Black Bat.”

And their unfortunate “No Meta” rule with the singular exception of Signal. Peter figured their term of Meta was essentially the same thing as his world’s mutants. He’s not sure which term he liked more. Eh, he’ll worry about that later.

And there’s a Justice League! Which, to Peter, is just a bigger Avengers. There’s aliens on this world too. Superman. Martian Manhunter.

Peter grinned from his place crouched next to the dumpster. Yeah, this is awesome. He quickly memorized everything he could find, cross referencing posts and picking out the nuggets of truth or at least popular truth from the posts he viewed. Like, Red Hood operated in Crime Alley and was a crime boss with morals. Cool.

He’ll go down the spiral later. He mentally thanked Ned who was the best guy in the chair a teenage vigilante could ask for. He should really text his friend when he got back.

For now, he’ll head to the library and see if he could use their computers. He might need a card though… Peter quickly pulled up the search engine and found an Internet cafe. Ah, 24 hour internet cafes, the savior of his college days. There first, and then library, Peter decided. He memorized the instructions and pulled his mask off, tucking it away in the hammer space.

He walked out the alley and turned left, only to double take at his reflection in a shop window that was partially boarded up. Holy shit, he’s a baby. He’s like. 10!

Oh my god.

Peter twitched, tearing himself away from the window before the shop owner decided he was less curious and more potential mugger before promptly remembering that he looked less of a threat than ever. Mixed feelings.

Peter hurried his way to the internet cafe, paying the guy at the front a little extra so he’d ignore the obvious minor without a guardian thing Peter hasn’t gotten used to. Ugh. That was going to be annoying. He only paid for two hours and pulled up as many listings for a room as possible. By the end of it, he came out with $1 worth of fliers printed out and having funneled some billionaire’s offshore accounts into a new bank account he’d made by hacking into the bank servers. Does he feel bad about stealing? Yeah. But Peter’s a vigilante. He’s done worse than nabbing a monthly sum of a couple of hundreds from Lex Luthor’s off shore accounts. He’s not gonna get caught, and considering the guy’s rants on meta humans, Peter’s not feeling particularly guilty about it. He’ll do something good later to make up for it. Once he gets his footholds and can prepare his way back, he’ll even return to the rest of the money. Probably.

Peter left the cafe with his sheaf of flyers, stopping by an informational stand with free tourist maps and plucked one quickly from its plastic holder. He’ll pick something up from the food vendors on his way to the apartments. Peter began walking, taking in the sights of the gargoyles and-

“Nope!” He caught the wrist of a pickpocket. It’s a kid and he immediately felt bad.

“Lemme go. I ain’t done nothing to ya, ya Yorker tourist.”

“Okay,” Peter shrugged. “Don’t get caught the next time?”

The kid gaped at him. “Shi’, you must be really good at it. I’ve never been caught before.”

Peter wisely refrained from telling the kid it was due to his spidey-sense. He let go of the kid’s wrist and let a bit more of his accent out. “Why’d you need money anyways?”

“Food, duh.”

“Dude, I’m starving. Tell you what. You show me the best sub shop nearby and I’ll pay for your food. Deal?”

The kid stared at him, wide eyed. “You’re fuckin’ nuts. Why’re you being nice?”

“I’m hungry? Do we have a deal, kid?”

“… Fuck it. Fine. And don’t call me kid, shrimp. You’re like what, eight?”

Oh. Yeah. Peter’s a kid now. He shrugged.

“I’m older than you. I’m twelve.”

Peter blinked, frowning at how thin the kid’s wrists were.

“I’m Peter!”

“… Frank.”

He let Frank lead the way. Stranger danger doesn’t apply to him, he’s a grown ass man. In the body of a ten year old him, but still. A couple of minutes, four sandwiches and a load of chips later, Frank was watching wide eyed as he demolished three four dollar subs.

“Holy shit. Where are you packing that away? You’re a stick!”

Peter took a big bite of the sandwich as an answer. Frank looked down at his meal.

“Uh. Hey.”

Peter made a muffled noise of question, mouth stuffed full of steak and cheese.

“Sorry about. Uh. Trynna nick from ya.”

Peter chewed faster.

Frank continued, looking like he hated himself. “I wouldn’t… normally steal from shrimps like you but I was desperate and… really hungry, so. My bad.”

Peter finished chewing. “All good, dude. Eat your sandwich.”

Peter had the sudden urge to adopt Frank. Unlike Wayne, he’s not a billionaire, so he smacked that urge down. He could use a friend though. Now… how to be friends with a literal child!

“If you feel that bad about it, you could… be my friend?”

Peter took in the wide eyed gaze from the twelve year old in front of him. Abort! Abort! That was too direct!

“You’re fucking weird. But… okay.”

“That was easy.”

Frank scowled, kicking Peter’s shin.

“Ow!”

“Whatever, shrimp.”

Peter scowled. On his baby face, it came out as a pout.

Do not start beef with a twelve year old, Peter. You’re a grown ass adult.

“Hey, you know I’m new here, right?”

“Duh.” Frank took a bite of his food.

“Can you tell me which one of these are legit?” Peter handed Frank the flyers. He took them, an odd look passing his face.

“You’re looking for a place?”

“Yeah? Why?”

Frank stared at him. Looked back down. He instantly got rid of four listings out of the ten. “These are too close to the Alley. They’re probably traffickers.”

Peter hummed in agreement. Frank paused.

“You’re just gonna trust me on that?”

“Yeah? I can tell when people are lying.” Well, his spidey sense could, when he cared enough about the subject.

“What the fuck.” Frank shoved the rest the papers at him and guiltily munched on his food. “Are Yorkers all just like you?”

“Dunno? Probably not.”

“… Whatever. The rest of the places should work. They probably won’t ask questions.” Frank flapped a hand at Peter’s new situation. Yeah, the shortness was getting to him too.

Peter nodded. Obviously, they were the more expensive places, but considering the new found resources he’d… acquired during his time at the cafe, it doesn’t really matter.

“Cool! Wanna go see it with me?”

Frank immediately took on a suspicious glare. “Why?”

“I dunno? You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought since you know your way around…”

“Ugh. Fine. But if there’s anything shady, I’m fucking dipping out.”

“Okay!” Peter grinned for the first time the couple of hours he’d been trapped in this new world.

——

They’d found an apartment with a landlord that got a weird, sad face when she was talking to them about the apartment. After like, an hour of walking around and Peter’s spidey sense screaming at him not to even go near the places Frank had left in the pile of maybe’s.

“We walked all the way here. Ya not even gonna go in?”

“The vibes are off. It’s a no.”

And because Peter’s a genius idiot with no self preservation, he’d marked the places to investigate later.

Frank had blinked at him, mildly offended and nonplussed. After a while of spluttering, he just gave up. Eventually, they got here.

“I don’t normally rent to kids,” the landlord lady said. Peter immediately liked her. “But I’ll make an exception if you’ve got the cash.”

“I’d like to see the unit first, please” Peter said. He’s not stupid, and Gotham’s renting scene is both easier and harder than New York.

They toured it. Peter? He’d seen worse. He’d lived worse. Also, it had two bedroom and was $620. Yeah, Peter was really considering just staying here full time and commuting to his New York when he wanted to be a vigilante.

“I’ll take it, ma’am.” The landlord and Frank both snorted, sharing a Gothamite look.

“It’s Georgie, to you, brat. You just need the first month’s rent, since I’ll wave the deposit for you shrimps. Utilities included. Your friend stayin’?”

“No-” Frank had started.

“Yep!” Peter beamed, interrupting his new friend.

“What?” Frank turned, gaping again at this weird little kid who had enough money to rent a place and then invited a whole ass street kid he just met to live with him. “Are you stupid?! What if I rob you? Huh? I don’t need charity!”

Peter slowly looked around the empty unit.

“Uh.”

“No, that’s not the point!” Frank pointed a finger at Peter. “That’s how you get yourself killed!”

“But that’s why you should stay! I don’t know my way around Gotham so…”

Peter looked up at Frank, using his shortness for maximum devastation. “Please?”

Georgie leaned back on the heels of her feet, silently laughing. It’s not every day she sees a Gothamite street kid get out stubborned by an outsider, but she knows better than anyone that Gotham is weak to genuine kindness. And this Peter kid, the one that reminds her so much of her own? He’s practically filled with it.

“Yeah, kid,” she said to Frank, snickering. “Look at him. He’s gonna get mugged two steps into the Alley. Or anywhere.”

Frank flailed, but eventually, Peter handed over the money to an amused Georgie who gave them two keys in return and a move in gift of a pot pie.

“I gotta. Uh. Go get my stuff.” Frank had mumbled, dazed at whatever the hell just happened.

“Okay! I’ll see if I can go get furniture!”

“And lift them with your shrimpy arm? You wish.”

“I can use a cart.”

And really, he could, because Gotham had a lot of abandoned carts laying around. Like a concerning amount.

“Can you even reach the handle?”

“I’m not that short!”

Frank snorted, Georgie’s own chuckles following a beat after. Peter scowled at them.

“Be right back,” Frank promised, holding the key like it was treasure. He had been homeless for two and a half years now, so in his eyes, that key was as good as gold. He had somewhere warm to stay. Trying to pickpocket Peter was the best mistake he’s ever made in his short life. But he didn’t want to take advantage of that, well, no, he did want to, but he doesn’t want to take the genuine kindness for granted so he’ll see if there’s any street furniture he could haul back on his way.

“Okay!”

Georgie watched him go and turned to Peter.

“If you need stuff, there’s a thrift store and a grocery store that way.” She gave him the directions.

——

As soon as Frank and Georgie left, Peter immediately left his new place (and holy shit, he really didn’t expect things to be this easy. In New York, he had to spend at least a week checking out places because he had to figure out whether the problem that cause subtle twinges with his spider sense was worth living with. Here? It’s too obvious.) to buy supplies. He had $400. Until his new card came in, at least. He’d put his new address into that bank account addressed to a “Anthony Benjamin” before ordering a “replacement card.”

Peter ran to the thrift store, hurrying before the last traces of the sun dipped below the smog of Gotham. A frankly absurd amount of blankets, towels, pillows, clothes, packaged boxers, socks and shoes around his size went into the cart. To his chagrin, Peter couldn’t actually see much over the cart. Why the hell was he such a short ten year old? He blasted through the store, also guesstimating Frank’s sizes. He tossed in curtains, a used set of glow in the dark stars, and a lamp.

He also grabbed mismatched mugs, bowls, a bundle of cutlery, and a dented microwave he casually pretended to struggle getting onto the bottom part of the cart. It’s like lifting grapes for him, but he looks like a ten year old so…

He, guiltily, bought a mildly fancy camera in a set, with two separate lenses, even if one was cracked.

Not bad, for $150 total. Peter is going to definitely seriously consider commuting to New York. They didn’t even care when he walked out with the cart! Well, that might be because of the cashier who gave him a pitying glance.

He stopped by a general store on the way back, parking his cart in a rapidly shadowy alleyway. He swung by the new section of the store that reminded him of a Dollar Tree and got cleaning supplies, toiletries, and two pans and a pot. He grabbed some canned food and a couple of frozen meals in the back. Seasonings, ramen, general pantry staples went in. A role of paper towel. Nice. Venom would have loved this store. With half of his budget blown for essentials, Peter quickly cut his spending off and

He quickly gathered his stuff and went back to the apartment, using his strength a bit to lift the full cart up the stairs at the front doors and into the elevator. It creaked like the first time they used it to go see the apartment, but it worked. Peter set everything up in the living room, pillow and blanket wise, and put everything in its proper place. The lamp was put up, giving more light than the old bulb in the ceiling light.

All Peter wanted to do was pass out, but since his dumbass took in a child, he couldn’t sleep until this place was relatively fit for a kid to live in. He also wanted to wait for

So, that’s what he did. Taking a sponge and the cleaning supplies he’d picked up earlier, Peter tackled the living room, scrubbing away at old stains and spraying mildew. He marked trouble spots- like that splinter worthy piece of floor next to the doorway leading to the hall between the bedrooms. Then the kitchen. By the time Frank cautiously peeked his head in from the front door, Peter had already finished scrubbing the over.

“Hey.”

Peter turned, grime on his face but grinning. “Hey!” I bought some stuff!”

Frank snorted at his face before glancing around the living room, eyeing the cart parked neatly on the side.

“So you did. Didn’t get mugged, did ya?”

“Rude. No, of course not.”

Frank gave him a… frankly… unimpressed look and dumped his bag next to the pile of blankets and pillows Peter had piled onto the floor. Sue hi’, they didn’t have beds yet.

“Got somethin’ for ya,” Frank said neutrally before dragging in…

“A coffee table!” Peter bounced towards Frank, hugging him before lugging in the heavy wooden table in. “You’re the best! Where’d you find it?!”

The tension, anxiety about Peter’s reaction, in Frank’s shoulders relaxed and the kid grinned. “Alley. Some asshole just left it there for anyone to hit with their car so I took it.”

“Nice! We can eat on this!”

——

When they were getting ready for bed, Peter insisting on showers for both of them, Frank had reared up at the clothes Peter bought for him. Peter pretended like he didn’t see anything and shove a whole tube of toothpaste and a new toothbrush at him.

“Ew. Do I have to?” Frank asked, wrinkling his nose but taking the items anyways.

“Yeah.” Peter said seriously. Frank gave a moment to wonder why he was taking orders from an eight year old before shrugging. He could brush his teeth in exchange for a roof over his head, food, and clothes. It’s not even a fair trade, for Peter, anyways. Frank was enough of an alley rat to take advantage of that.

——

When Frank passed out, Peter couldn’t sleep. He’s exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep.

So he took his new camera and climbed the fire escape to the roof top.

An hour later, he met his first vigilante.

“Hey, kiddo. I’m gonna need you to back away from the edge.”

“Woah!” Peter startled, jolting slightly off of the ledge he was balanced on. He twisted around to see Red Robin, hand outstretched and panicked look in his eyes.

“Dude. Warn a guy!” Peter said, even though his spider sense warned him of an approaching person that was actively watching him.

Red Robin held his hands up. “My bad. Would you- uh, not be on that ledge?”

“Yeah, sure. My bad, bro.” Peter obligingly stood up and stepped away from the ledge. Red Robin relaxed then did a double take. Peter frowned. Is there something on his face?

“What are you doing up here, kiddo? It’s late.”

Peter decided to scope out the vigilante. “Couldn’t sleep,” he held up his camera. “I’m taking pictures.”

“Oh. That’s cool! Can I see?” Red Robin approached warily, but relaxed when Peter didn’t spook and try to take a shortcut to ground floor.

“Sure! It’s a new, well, not new but new to me, camera so I haven’t had all that time to mess with the specs but the pictures turned out pretty good-”

“Oh, woah. This one’s great. That composition? Amazing. You caught the light perfectly,” Red Robin complimented. Peter brightened, knowing a photography fan when he hears one.

“Photography buddy!” He cheered.

They talked for an hour after that, but Red Robin quickly sent him to bed once he remembered the time.

“Ah, shi- crap. It’s like 2AM. You’ve gotta go to bed.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry if I interrupted your patrol, Mr. Red Robin!”

“No problem, kid.” Peter slipped back down the fire escape, not caring if the vigilante saw where he lived.

——

Up on the rooftop, Red Robin pressed a hand to his comm.

“Red Robin to Nightwing.”

“What’s up, Red?”

“Do you have a kid you don’t know about?” Tim said, bluntly.

“… What?”

“Oracle, can you share my cowl footage?”

“Copy. Oh, that kid…”

“Looks exactly like Wing?” Tim said, peering down at the empty fire escape. “Yeah. Talked like him too.”

“Oh my god, he’s adorable.” Oracle said. Tim agreed. That curly hair? Baby face? Adorable. A bean. “Did you get DNA?”

“Ah, shit, I knew I forgot something.”

“Do not break into his place and nab a hair,” Nightwing reprimanded, but his voice sounded distracted.

“Holy shit, you guys nerded out about camera placement and lighting for an hour?” Hood piped up.

“Get some rest, Red Robin. You’ve been working too hard,” Batman grunted through the comms. Awkward… but he’s been getting better at communicating his worry for his kids.

“Sure thing, B. Heading back to the main cave. Red Robin out.

——

Peter: lay low and get home

Also Peter: talks to a vigilante

None of them think Peter’s Nightwing’s yet. Peter will know before them… eventually. Once this world’s version of him gives up his memories to be absorbed by AU Peter.

[hypewinter]

Danny felt a familiar tug in his chest. Not another summoning. The cultists never quit did they? Danny was going to ignore it. Just like all the rest. He figured they would try blood sacrifices but then he didn't experience the familiar tang in the air that usually wafted through his nose. That had peaked his curiosity. So he leaned into the summoning a little. Not enough to be summoned but enough to get more senses. He heard..... he heard crying! What? Why was he hearing crying? He leaned into the summoning just a little more. That allowed him to see, albeit vaguely. He caught the glimpse of a form within the circle. It was small. It was...... a child. A child? A. CHILD!? Those cultists had really thought since blood sacrifices didn't work to try a whole human. Danny's blood boiled. He had been content to ignore them until now but no more. He was taking care of this. NOW. With that, Danny allowed himself to be fully summoned. The cultists immediately fell on their knees.

"Oh great King, you have finally answered our plea," the apparent leader said.

Danny ignored him and immediately scooped the child up in his arms. He gently rubbed circles into the child's back, whom he now knew to be a boy who couldn't be older than 8. He felt his rage flair. They had tried to sacrifice an eight year old! Danny didn't even bother listening to the cultists. Instead he dispersed his power throughout the room, allowing all the souls sacrificed over the years to gain form.

"Feel free to exact your revenge," he said simply.

Then he turned and opened a portal, tuning out the screams as he stepped through.

~~~~

It took a while, but Danny finally managed to calm the boy down and convince him he didn't want to eat him. Once he did, he asked for the kid's name.

"It's Richard Grayson," the boy answered. "But my parents called me Dick."

Danny didn't miss the past tense. Were his parents dead? Danny's mouth set into a firm line. If he found out those cultists had anything to do with this- His train of thought was cut off by the sound of sniffling. Right, Dick. Danny would handle the cultists later. Right now, he had a little boy to comfort.

[wondersinwaynemanor]

let's pretend that this is the right timeline because what if Dick becomes Batman at the same time when Wally becomes The Flash?

let's also say that this is just like the Justice League animated series wherein the League members don't know each member's identities (except of course Bruce, he knows everybody).

how funny would it be if Dick and Wally are together and the rest of the League are confused because all of a sudden Batman and Flash are close like super close? i mean they have witnessed how Flash gets intimidated by Batman. now, that's not the case anymore.

during a meeting:

Hal, leaning to John during a League meeting, whispers: I'm not losing my mind, right?

John, whispers back: I think I know what you mean.

Hal: Why is Flash making heart eyes to Bats????

John: I know??? Flash doesn't even look him in the eyes before.

Hal: That's so odd, dude.

Batman glances at the two Green Lanterns which makes them shut up.

meanwhile, across the table, Martian Manhunter has a light smile on his lips and Superman covers his laugh with a cough.

-

at the cafeteria:

Ollie: Hey, Dinah. Have you noticed something unusual between Batman and Flash lately?

Dinah: It is quite unusual, huh? I was talking to Hawkgirl the other day and she said she saw Flash bridal carry Bats.

Ollie: What the actual fu-

Flash, approaches the couple's table with a big bowl of nachos on his hand: Hey, guys! Mind if I sit with you?

Ollie and Dinah give a knowing look at each other. a conversation they definitely will finish later.

-

during in an another planet mission:

Batman, after announcing everyone's partners for the mission:... And lastly, I will pair up with Flash in today's mission.

Flash grins widely, that has Arthur thinking his cheeks might be hurting after that.

Arthur: Yeah, yeah. At this point, we already know, Bats!

the Green Lanterns, along with Captain Marvel and Booster Gold, snicker at his comment.

Batman ignores Arthur's comment and the rest of the members scatter to their assigned locations.

Victor, who was paired with Arthur: Was gonna give that comment too.

Arthur: It's like they are inseparable all of a sudden.

Victor, shakes his head: Well, I have seen weirder things.

-

in the meeting hall:

Wonder Woman, pulls Batman in the corner of the room: Okay, that's enough. You are truly ignoring me. What is going on with you lately?

Batman: Did the rest of the League put you up to this?

Wonder Woman, has her hands on her hips: They didn't need to. So, tell me. And don't you ever lie to me, I can see right through you, Batman.

Batman, sighs: It's hard for me to explain. I can't-I can't tell you right now.

Wonder Woman: Hera! Now, Bru-Batman.

before Batman responses, the door of the meeting hall opens and in comes Robin with his katana. the conversations between the League members come to a stop as they stare at the young hero.

Robin, glances at everyone, before approaching Flash: I need help with an important matter.

Flash, smiles and ruffles Robin's hair, as if that's second nature: Of course, little dude.

Hal, stands up from his seat: THAT'S IT! Can somebody tell me what the hell is going on????

Ollie, stands up with him: Are we in another dimension that I don't know about?????

Dinah pulls Ollie down by his arm to make him sit again.

the rest of the League members start to converse against each other.

Superman, floats a bit from his seat: Why don't we all settle down? There's nothing to be alarmed about.

Robin, shakes his head: Tt. Absolute fools.

by the time Bruce and Barry are back:

-

Bruce, pinches the bridge of his nose: Chum, you could at least be discreet with Wally.

Dick: It's not my fault, B! I swear I was going to explain to Aunt Diana then Dami entered the room.

Damian: Tt. Don't blame me, Grayson. Why don't you lecture West on how to be more responsible? He left me on read when I asked help for my Science project.

Dick, sighs: And what about Timmy? He could have helped.

Damian: I don't want anything to do with Drake.

Bruce massages his temples as he feels a headache coming up.

-

Barry: Wally!!!!

Wally, zooms right in front of Barry: I couldn't help it, okay?? Dick is just irresistible.

Iris giggles as she prepares the table for dinner.

Barry, sighs: That's alright. I'll talk to Bats on how we can explain it to the team.

Wally, grins and sits down by the table: It was hard not to laugh at them. They were so confused.

Barry, chuckles: I'm sure Hal's expression was the funniest.

Wally, laughs: You have no idea, Uncle Barry.

[detectiveforfree]

nice 🏳️‍🌈☕ mug

[thenewtitans60page22]

Something something inheritances

Jason, half dead with the league, still flipping the way Dick taught him

Tim throwing punches the way he learned watching Jason on shaky phone footage he obsessively watched as a kid

Damian smiling Dick’s robin smile, having learned it at Dicks side

[ghost-bxrd]

Jason will be ecstatic when he finds out how Fae! Dick avenged him.

Hooo boy absolutely!

If we go with the “Dick knew the second Jason got resurrected” scenario, then it would probably happen after a nightmare where Jason has a panic attack about the Joker and Dick comfort him, telling him that it’s very hard for people to hurt others anymore when they’re currently spread over several acres of land as fertilizer for the trees. :)

Jason just kind of blue screens for a while until he realizes what Dick is trying to tell him and then he starts sobbing even harder and clinging to Dick, whispering thank-you-thank-you-thank-you over and over and over again.

Dick is very confused because?? “Little wing, did you truly think I’d let him walk away after what he did to you? If I hadn’t been on a time schedule i would have done worse.”

And Jason realizes that Dick is absolutely fucking terrifying but that’s ok. Dick promised years ago that he’d always protect and never hurt him. And Dick’s never broken a promise.

Ever.

[thejasontoddarchives]

Brothers in Blood will trick you into thinking it’s just a silly crack scenario brought to life and Jason just concocted this plan for shits and giggles. Then you get a single page like this:

Nightwing (1996-) #121

that reveals he wanted/desperately needed shreds of acceptance even if it was coated in layers of resentment irritation and doubt after going through this:

Batman (1940-) #650

And it had to be from someone who isn’t Bruce

[armed-with-a-waffle-iron]

Angsty teenage Dick & Babs melts my heart. LOVE how Hope Larson wrote them in Batgirl: Summer of Lies.

"Partners."

"No matter what."

[flamingpudding]

Part 15 of Ghost Kid in Gotham

>>Masterpost >>AO3

<<1 Previous Next

Green and Red Emotions, similar but not

Jason leaned against the wall, arms crossed, as he waited. He checked the time one more time and then listened for the sounds in the hallway. The bandage against his arm was causing an itch he ignored skilfully. If there was one thing the little shit was apparently good at in his feral stage it was fucking biting, though it was nothing to be proud at. Well unless you were well versed in the art of fighting dirty.

Eitherway the kid had a sharp set of chompers and apparently some sort of homing sense, considering Jason was only sporting three visible bite marks all on the same forearm and all nearly in the same area. The kid always aimed for that specific spot to bite. Maybe Jason should start considering keeping that arm out of sight for the little shit so he wouldn't latch onto it. But the following worst case would be the kid deciding on a new spot to bite on.

Footsteps caught Jason's attention and he inclined his head slightly. Light with purpose loud enough to make sure people knew they were coming.

So he knew and was not going to avoid him today.

Good, Jason wasn't going to allow his brother to make that choice today anyway. He had waited long enough. His patience lasted long enough for his brother to step into the room fully and flick the lights on, before Jason closed the door behind him. Considering Dick was only simply turning around with a tired smile, confirmed his thoughts that his brother knew this was coming.

"Got enough of avoiding me already? Thought it would take me a week." He could help the teasing dig.

"Jason."

"Safe it Dickbird." He shook his head. "You're good. I don't think the 'kids' noticed anything. No bets on Cass though. She can read any of us like an open book."

He watched how his elder brother sighed, put his hands on his hips and still smiled at him. "What gave it away?"

Eyes traveling over the wary form of his elder brother he considered answering the question honestly. Dick was good at hiding certain emotions, but even he slipped up in the smallest of moments. Moments you wouldn't catch easily if one wasn't looking for them, small tells Jason had gotten familiar with over the years. He could be honest but then his elder brother would attempt to cover these tells in the future so he wouldn't 'worry' them and put even more on his shoulder unnecessarily.

"During that Dinner you stuck close to Demon Brat, little shit and me." It wasn't a lie, but neither the full truth. It was the first thing that tipped him off along with what Dick had said. "Besides that I have my own sources ans suspicions. The little shit has a pit, one that is different from mine."

"Is that going to be your nickname for Teethling, that's not a very nice little Wing?" Dick joked but Jason's expression didn't change as he watched the other. After a moment Dick once more let out a sigh and comped through his hair with one hand.

"If this is about what we found out about Danny's past. We didn't hide anything there. We have found an entire paper trail of his schooling. You know he could use some help with English." The light heartedness of Dick's voice did not carry as Jason didn't take the bait, but instead heard something else out of it.

"So what did you and the old man hide?"

"Jason." He tensed at the seriousness that entered his brother's voice. So it was bad, really bad. He wanted to curse Bruce but he didn't really know for what exactly, it was just one of his go to mechanisms whenever the old man kept something from them.

"Keep talking Dickbird or I will go to Barbie instead." Dick flinched, he refrained from arching an eyebrow but couldn't help the small lift to his lips. It was just a thrown out thread, implying that he would have Barbie hack into the Batcomputer if necessary to get the information it wanted but looking at that reaction. She was involved, and most likely not happy with their handling of the information they had.

As the silence stretched on he got impatient again.

"Chop chop pretty boy. Spill or do I really need to see Barbie?" Was it fair to use Barbara as some sort of weapon here? Probably not, but did he care? Nope, he didn't. He was going to get information on what was going on with the little shit and how much of that fucked up green juice was involved. Though he was pretty sure for the kid to get dragged it must have been a shit ton of it.

Neither of them moved for a while again, and Jason really thought that he might have to go to Barbara for real until Dick once more commed through his hair seemingly finally having come to a decision himself. Turning on his heel the elder went over to his desk and pulled out a laptop, not any laptop but the one with direct connection to the Batcomp Servers.

Jason caused heavily under his breath as he walked over and watched Dick power it up before logging in to access files. Fuck, it must be really bad if they went that far which meant Bruce had intended to keep all of them out of these files should they attempt it directly over the Batcomputer.

Which meant Demon Brat would have no chance of seeing these unless he uses one of the special access ways. The moment Dick pulled up the first image, Jason only half heartedly listened to his brother's explanation as his eyes turned green.

"These fuckers!" Oh he would need to go out on Crime Alley tonight, otherwise he wouldn't know where to put this shit ton of rage. His head sharply turned towards his elder brother for the first time he realized just how much of his own emotions Dick had been hiding from them reflected in the others eyes.

"The bits and pieces of the reports we recovered are even worse." He watched how Dick closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again and focusing them solely on Jason. The rage he had just seen no longer reflected in his eyes but at the same time his brother halted like he saw something else that stopped him for a brief moment before he continued. "It's more speculation based on the bits and pieces we have discovered. Are you sure you really want in on this information Jason? It will not be pretty, and Danny…"

"Will still be a little shit that fucking bites me like I am his personal chew toy." Making direct eye contact Jason attempted to earnestly convey his stand on the situation. Besides now that he had seen a glimps of what was most likely truly going on, he was not going to leave that fucked up shit alone.

Jason only later learned through Dick's admission that his eyes had glowed green throughout the entire explanation of what they had dug up so far as well as what they were suspecting and only turned back once Dick was done and had closed the laptop. If he punched a couple of criminals in close combat just a tad bit harder than necessary in response that night, that was no one's but his own business.

Meanwhile in a Area hidden between Illinois and Gotham

Dan sat on the little hill of unconscious bodies he had created in his ghost form. Originally he was going to go for the headquarters of the League of Assassins. Thing was, having a merged ghost core of two different ghosts, as well as a newly created human side (thanks to his clone body), did intact impact his 'Danny' memories slightly. Which meant he sort of forgot where it was again, but hey instead he remembered where some of the sub hide outs where. Like this one that happened to be close to Illinois.

He kicked the guy squished under the one he was sitting on, enticing a pained groan out of them. They weren't dead, Jazz, Ellie and the twerp had spent a lot of time resocializing him. He was not about to fuck that up by taking a live. Besides, the twerp as well as his human half never really had been able to take a life.

Still he was stuck, now. He had thought that they had been involved. Danny had disappeared without an explanation. Of course there could alway have been the chance that the GIW as well as the twerps former parents had lied in some way. That instead of disappearing, the twerp just got transferred to some other place they didn't know about.

But Dan had remembered when he had seen the world map. He had remembered them. People capable of making people disappear without a trace. Be it permanently or for their body to turn up at a later point as a warning. He wouldn't have put it past them if they had been behind it.

If the old sack of bones had learned of the twerps powers, his tone most likely would have changed. His eyes flashed for a moment just a bit brighter in a muddled red at that thought.

In a way it surprised Dan that he was able to think this way about these people. But then again. He had left his human side behind and merged his core with Plasimus. He did not hold any sympathy for these people anymore. Well maybe only for one of them, the rest could go screw off as far as he cared. And if he knew his former self the way he did then he knew that the only ones the twerp would really care for would be his mother and twin. Which was fine with Dan only to a certain extent, he would only care for one of them and which one it was was pretty obvious in his opinion. Damian held the same value to him that Jazz did.

Talia was a different matter. Without his human half and probably a bit of the influence of Plasimus' core, Dan had a more objective opinion on his shared memories with Danny in regards to her.

Kicking another unfortunate soul on the human pile to give his frustration way, he growled as he sensed a new presence coming closer. When the growl didn't work as warning enough and the presence did not deter in their approach, he turned, flaring his hair and snarled towards the shadows.

His eyes glowed stronger and dangerously warning red as they narrowed at the person that stepped out of the shadows. Observing him and the pile of unconscious bodies stacked under him.

"This is quite the surprise. I did not expect your appearance."

"Where is he?" Dan snarled gloved fingers turning into claws, figures she knew about his existence somehow.

"Won't you at least greet me, Habibi?"

His hackles rose and held out his claws threateningly, preparing for the fight that was most likely to come. "I am no son of yours! Now, where the fuck is he?"