"No," Yvonne mused, her eyes landing on Bruce with a thoughtful expression. "Not everyone is good at rolling with the punch line."
Meaning: not everyone was willing to make an ass of themselves on live television like Bruce was.
He allowed himself a wry smile. "I'm not sure, but I think that was intended as a compliment."
"It was," Kevin replied bluntly. "You've got a natural timing for comedy."
Bruce laughed nervously, not having to feign being flustered. "Well, I… I'm not sure I'd go that far."
"We would," Yvonne replied. "It was amazing. You were matching us beat for beat. And you were a natural at interacting with the puppets. It made our job a damn sight easier with all the cameras moving around. The last person who did that well was Tim Curry on Muppet Treasure Island."
Bruce dipped his head to the side modestly. "What can I say? You make them seem very real."
"Fine, don't take the compliment," Yvonne replied dryly, fixing him with a wry smile. "But I know which billionaire we'd prefer to work with in the future if we had a choice."
[Keep Reading on Ao3]
Bruce meets the puppeteers who make him an offer he can't refuse, featuring the Justice League toward the end, grilling him over his parenting choices. Clark comes to his rescue. Or makes it worse. You decide.
Thank you for continuing to read and leaving comments. I'm so glad everyone is enjoying this story as much as I am. <3
AU Where Tim's parents get that divorce early while Jason is still around. Jack is NOT dealing well and settles in Gotham to bond with Tim after realizing he isn't close to his son and not wanting to lose another relationship. Somehow ends up commiserating with Bruce about wanting to get close to his son who seems distant now and Bruce sympathizes. These two become friends while Tim is trying to figure out if this is a con for Bruce to investigate him because Tim Knows. This ends with Jack having a Realization He Does Not Want about Bruce Wayne.
Meanwhile, Janet has gone in a trip and has a whirlwind romance with a beautiful woman currently running the LexCorp office. They end up being dragged into a dramatic adventure involving assassins, lost family members, and magic and Janet comes out of it with a bisexual awakening.
The two exes end up calling each other and renew their friendship of their shared bisexual awakening all while Tim is doing Shenanigans in the background to prevent Bruce from finding out he knows about Batman and this evolves into him being dragged into nonsense.
Basically this all coming to ahead with Tim Drake's parents dating both of Damian’s after the Bisexual Awakening Summer.
(He and Jason are doing a whole secret investigation in the background in Tim's attempt to distract Jason from anything suspicious. This escalates in the two of them being saved by Janet Drake and her new girlfriend Talia while Batman and Jack Drake rush after to find them and all the adults have a heart-to-heart.)
Jason ' I need you to hide a Body' Todd (Tim&Jason, Jason/Jazz Fenton, dcxdp)
Batfam Costume Party (Tim/Kon, Dick/Wally, Jason&Dick&Tim, implied Jason/Roy)
Shifters, Brothers, Pack (Tim&the Batfam)
Accidental Baby Birds (Tim&Jason)
Voting ended onFeb 28, 2025
Trying to find some inspo while feeling meh so I thought I'd try this. Each is the working title for a WIP in the Batfandom. Pick the one that sounds most interesting. Main character/relationship focus in () after title
If you don't care, pick a button anyway cause clicking buttons is fine
I do love it when fic writers remember that preboot Nightwing is extremely serious when on the job, reserves his patience only for traumatized civilians not his teammates, and actually kinda has a stick up his ass not unlike Bruce's. And unabashedly loves him for all of it.
I want a batmom fic where batmom is actually friends with Talia. Like no fucking animosity at all, they just bond because they're two badasses who love and want the best for Damian. Like imagine the possibilities, they both take Damian out for some ice cream. With Damian calling them both a variation of mom, and people passing by thinking that batmom and Talia are an item and Damian is their son. Like- they don't even deny it, just laugh it off. IMAGINE IT.
keep your head up (it’s a cruel world) || batfam || the old guard!reverse verse au
rating: T
category: gen
warnings: mention of injuries, grief/mourning, rapid healing, mcd but extremely temporary as in tog
wordcount: 20k
a/n: huge thank you to @thychesters for being an amazing friend, beta, and cheerleader!! <3 full A/N is on ao3
summary: “Black hair, blue eyes,” Tim continues. Bruce’s hands clench to hide the trembling in his fingers. “I saw a poster for The Flying Graysons. He was at Haly’s Circus, Bruce, they’re in town right now—”
Bruce turns with a snarl, throwing his fist against the wall. He feels the bones splinter, blood seeping between his fingers as his hand is already stitching itself back together. Not now, not so soon after—
Bruce’s chest throbs.
They only lost track of Jason five years ago. Damian’s final breath was barely three months ago.
He’s not ready for another.
He can’t leave another one behind.
[image id: a panel from robin & batman #3 of a young dick grayson standing in a desolate circus tent with the fic title in white text: “keep your head up (it’s a cruel world): a batfam the old guard!reverse verse au”
Written by Squintyfist
Wordcount: 547
Warnings: Harm to animals, description of injuries and bad (body horror ish) smells/sensations,
Notes: Hopefully this has horror/unhinged vibes... I haven’t really read horror in years... Proceed with caution, I don’t think I’m that good at the whole content warning thing
It’s a nice beautiful April day outside. The sky is blue, the grass is green and the flowers are blooming. The air is full of birdsong and laughter.
A child’s hysterical laughter, choked with tears and hitches in their breath.
He smells smoke. It is invading his lungs, coating his throat in the chalky dry sensation.
It’s not nicotine smoke. Or at least it’s not only nicotine smoke. No, there is also the smoke of burning wood, burning hair. Burning flesh.
It’s a terrible smell and a terrible taste. He wants it gone. He wants it gone now.
He looks around, trying to find the source. He sees nothing.
Nothing except for a wheezing little robin bird on the ground. It has its right wing folded oddly. Like it’s injured.
The bird chirps and trills and chutters.
It sounds like a child laughing. A child laughing hysterically.
He knows now that the little wounded, grounded, stuck, bird is just another stupid form of torture from that pathetic brat.
He stomps over, his gait no longer normal and rather haphazard.
Not good, that is definitely throwing off his disguise.
It’s going to alert the citizens, the parkgoers, of who he is. They’ll alert the police --the Bat-- that he’s here. They’ll ruin his plans before he’s ready.
But he can’t find it within himself to care.
He wants the robin gone.
He wants it gone for good.
And he’ll do whatever he needs to do in order for that to happen.
So he stomps on over.
He towers over the grounded bird and sneers.
He raises his foot, ready to stomp. Ready to jump and hop and do whatever he can to stop its noise.
His lungs burn though.
They burn so mightily with the feeling of smoke and with a new unexpected feeling of unbearable heat (something that usually occurs only on his back. Which usually only happens when he is about to sleep.)
He collapses to the ground, wheezing. Tries to scream, to laugh, to call out for help.
He tosses his head around in frustration.
He sees the robin.
He sees how he fell right next to it. How he is unintentionally mimicking it.
He is filled with rage.
He is not a weak and pathetic bird.
He is the Joker.
The Clown Prince of Crime.
He is not a foolishly weak and pathetic (and perhaps a bit gullible) sidekick.
He is not some stupid songbird.
He manages to reach out and grab the noisy thing.
He goes to squeeze it but his grip, his hands-
They are too weak.
His arm flops to the ground. He can feel the skin on the back of his hand graze and rub and rip as it falls and lands on the hard stony sidewalk.
The songbird bounces softly out of his hand and onto the ground.
It wheezes. It does not sound good.
It weakly flutters and blinks its eyes. The movement of its eyelids is sluggish and the eyes themselves are dull.
Devoid of hope and life already.
Pathetic.
He notices that the burning has left his lungs, and that it had left a little bit ago. He notices that it’s getting just a bit easier to breathe.
