This is based off of that one tiktok from @sorruna where it’s the audio from Spider-Man: Into the Spider-verse.
——
Dick Grayson was a sneaky, intelligent little shit.
He was also dumb. These things are not mutually exclusive.
To this day, one of his best kept secrets- one of the many, many that he had now- was something he’d take to his grave.
Or to Jason’s grave, at least.
Dick sat down and began telling the story to ears that would never truly hear it.
——
Batman’s voice rumbled behind him as Dick, in his Robin suit, stood blankly on top of a roof.
“I know you snuck out last night, Robin.”
Dick froze, train of thought about his dinner derailed. Holy busted, Batman! Quick! Play dumb!
“Who’s Robin?” He asked, the years of performing in front of a large crowd coming to save his ass.
Not that dumb!
Batman sent him a dry look, reprimand already poised on his lips. Dick, however, was nothing but a good performer. Nay, a dedicated performer.
Quick! Do something out of character! He shouted at himself, panicking visibly. He stepped backwards, an idea appearing in his head. In his defense, it sounded like an amazing idea at the time. He had no idea it would blow up into a Justice League issue. If he had known… Dick would have lied better, probably. There was no way he was going to let B bench him for weeks!
“Who the fuck are you?!” He yelped. Dick apologized mentally to Alfred and his parents. Batman paused, stunned.
“That’s my question. Who are you?!” Bruce asked, immediately hostile. His son doesn’t curse. Well, not in any normal way anyways. Dick quickly backpedaled by yelling at him with a heavy Vlax dialect, missing his parents terribly as he screamed stranger danger in rudimentary Romany. After this, he was going to have to convince Bruce to get him a language tutor. He refused to forget one of the only ties he had left to his parents.
“Wait, wait- you’re my son.” Bruce replied back, in perfect Romany. He looked more convinced but still skeptical.
“My dad is a circus performer! Not a flying rat!” Dick screeched back. He couldn’t help but feel touched about Bruce seeing him like a son.
“Oy! Keep it down out there, you assholes! Some of us like our sleep, damn!” A random Gothamite screamed out of their window.
“Yo, shut the fuck up! The vigilantes are helping to keep the rent low, motherfucker!” Another Gothamite shouted back.
….
Needless to say, Bruce quickly brought Dick back to the cave- with precautions to make sure he didn’t figure out where the Cave was if Dick was actually someone else.
——
“You would have loved it, Little Wing. B was running around like a headless chicken. The memory loss protocol was actually made because of me, you know.” Dick chuckled, sniffling as he talked to the carved gravestone.
It did not reply.
——
The blood tests came back. Yeppers, Dick sarcastically thought, who woulda thought I’m me?
Reinforcements were called in.
Meaning, Batgirl.
“Watch him while I contact Justice League Dark.”
“You think it’s magic?” Barbara asked.
“Yes. There was no one else near our vicinity that could affect Dick like this. He has no head wounds.”
“Eesh. Okay, go. I’ll watch him.”
Bruce disappeared in his zeta tube, looking harried. So, to everyone that’s not a Bat, he looked absolutely terrifying.
“What did you get yourself into now, Boy Wonder?” Barbara sighed. Dick was careful to keep any signs of recognition out of his face.
“Stop calling me that! Where are my parents?!” He asked back. Barbara coughed and looked uncomfortably away.
That’s right, Babs. I’m pulling out the orphan card. Feel bad. Dick hid his feral grin.
“They’re… uh, busy.” Busy being dead, Barbara thought, immediately wincing at her own thoughts. Apparently, Dick thought the excuse was lame too, and he sent her an incredulous look.
“Would you like refreshments, Master Dick?”
“What?”
Alfred held out some cookies on a platter, giving Babs a quelling look as she tried to reach for his share.
“Oh, wow, these are really good!” Dick said as he shoveled cookies into his mouth. He tried to replicate the reaction he had when he tried these for the first time, and from Alfred’s satisfied look, Dick nailed it.
——
“Robin doesn’t remember who he is.” Batman rumbled as he all but dragged Zatanna and Constantine by the scuff of their jackets towards the zeta tubes.
“Hey, wait-”
“We have no time.” Batman snarled, tossing the two magic users into the zeta. He punched in the destination.
When they got there, he glared at the two magic users until they got into the cave.
“Damn, Bats. Really living up to your name, huh?”
“Not bad,” Zatanna said as she looked around.
“Robin,” Batman- Bruce- reminded them. He did a quick glance over to check on his kids, and found them satisfactorily uninjured. Though, Barbara was looking worse for wear. Bruce quickly found out why as she stalked to him.
“You deal with him.” She muttered. “I’m going home.”
Bruce blinked and nodded. “Get home safe.”
Zatanna and Constantine followed Batman as he walked towards Robin. It was odd to see the normally laughing child frown.
“It’s you! The kidnapper! Where are my parents?!”
Bruce winced which, for him, was akin to a full body flinch and recoil. No wonder Barbara was so tired.
“Fix it.”
“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Batsy.” Constantine grumbled.
“Well help, Batman. Though… I’m not sure if he should be doing that.”
Bruce sharply turned his head back to where Dick was. Emphasis on was. Because now, he’s halfway up the giant dinosaur the Robin had insisted they keep.
“Robin, get down from there!”
“Stranger Danger!” Dick hollered back.
Batman- Bruce Wayne- sighed.
“That’s high level magic,” Zatanna hummed. “I can’t feel anything, but I know for sure that he won’t die. Magic like that either dissipates naturally or…”
“Lasts forever,” Constantine finished.
Bruce groaned, shooting off a grappling line and swooping upwards to catch Dick as he fell from the giant dinosaur.
——
“I pretended to get my memories back later,” Dick chuckled. “And pretended to forget the whole thing. Bruce was so relieved that I stopped knocking things over and trying to do cartwheels in high places that he totally forgot I snuck out.”
Dick patted the headstone.
“But between you and me? I’m pretty sure Alfred knew. I think B pissed him off that week.”
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al-haitham’s the kind of guy who tilts his head slightly for a kiss before you even lean in to give him one. he just knows it’s coming. expects it. trusts it’ll happen.
he’s yawning when he sits at the table for breakfast, hair slightly disheveled from sleep. he sits down and when you place the mug of coffee in front of him, his head angles a little for that kiss you place on his cheek.
he’s drowned in endless paperwork at the akademiya when you stop by to visit, chuckling when he gives you that look of despair at the all the work he has to do. you don’t even manage to walk up to him fully before he’s leaning in and waiting for the kiss to the top of his head.
he’s shirtless in the bathroom, brushing his teeth at night when you walk in to brush yours too, bumping hips with his as you giggle. you don’t even have to turn before he’s tilting his head so he’s exposed and ready for that gentle peck you leave at his jaw.
“have you ever noticed how demanding you are for these,” you chuckle one day, pressing a kiss to his cheek to prove your point.
he grunts, leaning in and burying his head into your neck as you greet him at the door after a long day. “what makes you say that,” he mumbles.
“you’re ready for one before i’ve even come close,” you grin, “what if one day i don’t kiss you?”
“you’d stop kissing me?” he asks, squeezing your hips as he nuzzles into your neck. something tells you he already knows your answer.
and he’s warm. he’s close. he’s here and he’s everything all at once. he’s all you need and everything you’ve ever wanted. he’s the messy hair of your mornings and the pouty lips of your afternoons and that shirtless back of every night. he meets you halfway—maybe even takes the first step so you don’t have to.
he leans in for that kiss before you do. because he needs you, wants you, loves you—and he never lets you forget it. so you turn your head, press your lips against the side of his head and run your fingers through his hair as he sighs in content.
“no,” you hum, falling in love all over again, “no i’d never stop kissing you.”
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Okay I’m going to talk about cutting off Crosshair’s hand because while I know plenty of people see a lot of symbolism in it and think it was a good decision I have things to say about it.
I have CPTSD which has a lot of different symptoms. One of them is trembling or shaking. There’s a lot of complexities tied up in it but I’m not going to go into more detail because it’s not a fun thing to talk about.
What I liked about Crosshair’s trauma was that it impacted him not only mentally and emotionally but also physically. It’s very representative of what it’s actually like dealing with symptoms from something like PTSD and CPTSD (there are differences between these two that I won’t go into rn). I loved that we got to see a physical symptom of something psychological. It’s so rare that it’s handled well. Because yeah meditation and safety will help, certainly, but oftentimes it’s not the end all be all. I’m safe. I’m protected. I take care of my mental well being. But I still have symptoms that say the opposite. Because it’s not as simple as ‘no longer in the bad situation therefore the symptoms will stop’. I’ve made my peace that it’s lifelong and, honestly, Crosshair’s symptoms would be lifelong as well.
Cutting off his hand…
Here’s the thing.
The show really makes it seem like cutting off his hand is something he needed to move forward. He needed to be rid of the symptom because it was a physical reminder and it was holding him back from moving on. Cutting off the hand means no more shaking which means he’s healed. No more shaking hand=no more trauma. He can finally move on with his life.
And to that I say ouch.
There’s been plenty of times my symptoms are inconvenient to myself or others. Times when I wish I could just make it stop. Times when I’m terrified that it’s holding me back and I’m screwed up and that’s all I’ll ever be: broken. There are plenty of times I know people wish i could just knock it off and get over it and cut it out but that’s not how it works. Like I said. I’ve made peace with this thing that’ll be with me forever.
It was refreshing to see him try to adapt to dealing with it instead of ignoring it or trying to get rid of the part of him that was hurting. I loved that. It was such a freeing thing to see. Someone who will live with the hurt and the symptoms and it doesn’t make him any less. It just makes him have to do life a little different.
I hate that they cut off his hand. I hate that it wasn’t handled with any sort of nuance or delicacy. And I hate that this thing that made me so proud of him, so proud to share something with him, just got cut off for… what? Shock? To ‘fix’ him?
If we had gotten more time with the loss of his hand maybe I’d feel differently. Hell, I’d love to see how Crosshair adapts to losing his hand, see how he learns to accommodate. It would give him and Echo something to bond over and talk about, finding healing with each other. I think this could’ve been done well. I’d still be on the fence about it but I would’ve held my breath and saw how it played out.
I fully expect people to roll their eyes at me here. I expect that people will say that I just don’t get it or that this isn’t what they intended. I’m sure this isn’t what they intended. At least I hope it isn’t. But what they intended doesn’t change how insensitively this was handled after a whole season of him unpacking his hurt and trying to learn to adapt to it. No one reacted to it, not even Crosshair, and we got no unpacking of what happened. I’m not happy with this but it is what it is I guess.
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