Kibo_Here

on the other hand...

Bruce being so thrown off his game at meeting Bernard that he temporarily channels June George is giving me so much life.

It'd be so painfully awkward, too, because he'd know. He knows he's not being cool about the situation, but he can't help it.

He's assessing himself against the constant internal perception checks he's always rolling to make sure he's being a Normal Person outside of the cowl, and they're all coming up 1s. He's trying too hard. Too chirpy. Too punny. Too Much. Too Dad.

Bernard doesn't seem to notice. As far as he's aware, it's normal for Bruce to be this cringingly enthusiastic and awkward around his kids' friends. Tim, on the other hand, is conveying clearly that he wants the floor to open up and swallow him whole and that Bruce -- whatever the fuck is wrong with him -- needs to fuck off.

He does not fuck off. He doesn't know how to. All his carefully crafted social schemas have fallen apart. This is Bruce, not knowing how to show approval but trying his hardest.

After several more minutes, Tim saves them all. They were going to play some video game Bernard brought over in the living room, but he takes Bernard by the hand instead and starts leading him up the stairs.

"Come on, we can play it in my room." He glances pointedly at Bruce, who watches them go, still beaming like an idiot. "Somewhere with a door."

"Have fun," Bruce calls after their retreating backs, leaning against the banister as he watches them go. "Let me know if you guys need anything. Snacks. Drinks. A condom. Whatever you want."

Bernard makes a sound like he's choking. The look Tim levels at him is murderous.

I can't decide if he'd do a Michael Caine and treat it like he's in Shakespeare or pull a Tim Curry and become an honorary muppet, but that feral bastard would bounce off them so well you'd think he was made of rubber.

And it's even funnier in-universe because, unlike other iterations, this is not a smooth-talking playboy who smiles easily and dons the glitz and glamor like a sparkling facade of misdirection. This is a sopping wet, shut-in, scrungly cat of a man who isn't even trying to hide the several shades of mental illness plaguing him or the dark, sleepless bruises under his eyes. (Maybe he's born with it; maybe it's Maybelline trauma.)

And then all this shit happens with the Riddler, and Batman becomes a symbol of hope instead of vengeance (although criminals still very much piss themselves at the sight of him. Like yeah, the dude carried civilians out of the flood zone while holding up a literal rescue flare to light up the night, but he's still the dude who punches like a fucking freight train. The violence might be leashed, but the threat very much remains.) and hey, look at that Bruce Wayne has come out of hiding!

Poor guy... bet it was hard finding out all that shit about his parents after he's spent so long mourning them. That and his house got fucking blown up. I mean, like, fuck 'em, he's still a billionaire but heeeey, look, he's getting involved! He's funneling money into the city at a rate that the relief workers can't spend it fast enough. He's meeting with the mayor, going to events, and giving interviews and actually, okay... okay, Mister Smooth-talker. Where has that smile been hiding all these years?

Did Brucie fucking Wayne go to therapy?

Good for him. Good for him.

Y'know, maybe he's all right. He certainly seems to be trying to bankrupt himself with all the charity work he's doing. Did you hear about how he paid off everyone's student loans at the bar that one night? Yeah, offered everyone jobs, too. Not to mention all the pro-union stuff he's implemented at Wayne Industries against the wishes of the board. Maybe Gotham can have one good okay rich person. As a little treat.

Luthor et al. can go fuck themselves, though. This is our billionaire playboy. We found him in a dumpster. Look at the bags under his eyes. Certified trash panda. (Y'know that tiktok meme of the raccoon coming out of a dumpster while Frank Sinatra plays over the top? That's their version of Bruce.)

Meanwhile, Bruce is in Hell. It's torture being this extroverted, but the mayor's got a point. Someone's got to do it, and if Batman has pivoted to bring light into the dark, then Bruce Wayne has to get involved in the city, too. And it's so much easier to affect change if people like you, so here he is. Being likable. (Aaaaaaah)

Inevitably more shit happens because it's Gotham, and not even the circus being in town can be normal. And suddenly Bruce Wayne's got a kid, and it's super cute even if the trauma parallels are a little on the nose, but maybe that's what they both need, y'know? Someone who knows what it's like to have your parents whacked by the mob so they can't go to the cops. Hey, did anyone else notice that Batman's suddenly got an eight-year-old dressed like a stoplight running around with him? What the fuck is up with that?

And then, one night, Bruce Wayne is scheduled to be on the Gotham Tonight show. He only glances briefly at the line-up, not putting much thought into it when he sees the words "Muppets." He's aware there's a film coming out because Dick desperately wants to go see it. But other than that, head empty. No thoughts. He's just going to sit on a couch next to some puppets for a few hours. How hard can it be?

I mean, it's not like it's going to alter the entire structure of his life.

@clockways said re: how Pattinson would handle interacting with the Muppets: I propose... as Bruce, he's a Cury, as Batman he's a Caine.

---

Hood is now very invested in pretending that he isn’t Jason, but also that he knows Jason from ~ somewhere ~ and keeps dropping progressively more disturbing hints about him

Damian: …what are you talking about, the second Robin is alive

Batfam: *minor breakdown*

Hood, passing by that rooftop: Oh, Jason? I remember that kid. Talia pushed us in the Lazarus Pit at the same time, but we went berserker on different directions, he probably fell from a different cliff than mine

Batfam: *major breakdown*

—

Batman: this isn’t a joke, Hood, if you have any clue of Jason’s whereabouts…

Hood: last time I saw him, he was considering getting a Literature degree or something in some fancy ass European university

Batman: *dying on the inside of happiness for his boy but also bc he’s missing this important time of his life* and when was that, Hood?

Hood: during our assassination intensive course. Kid was good at that, better than me

Batman: *just dead inside*

—

* in the comms, some sibling bickering nonsense happening*

Damian: I’m father’s favorite child

Hood: Shut up kid you aren’t even Talia’s favorite child

Tim: Who is it then?

Hood: Jason, of course

Dick: *misses his step, falls from the roof*

He's signed up for so many podcasts, video game streamers, and random news alerts; it's just a constant barrage of data going straight into his constantly whirring brain. Hell, he even floats the idea of the Batfamily having their own podcast as a way to correct misinformation about them (which Jason shoots down instantly), and it's made me realize something.

Timothy Drake would be a YouTuber.

In this universe specifically, Timothy Jackson Drake, the heir to Drake Industries and the foster son of the late Bruce Wayne would be a YouTuber.

Think about it. It'd be the perfect cover. Who would ever suspect that some 16-year-old nepo baby with a YouTube channel could ever be Red Robin? You'd have to be mad. I mean, look at him.

Red Robin just dropped out of literal thin air and garotted someone four times his size, and you expect anyone to believe that's the same kid who does 24-hour Minecraft charity streams and occasionally drops 6-hour video essays (his last one was on Lex Luthor's illegal bit mining operation on the moon)?

That kid?

You think that kid is Red Robin?

#gotham knights game #I'm now incorporating this into all my Tim headcanons across the multiverse #twice a week as part of maintaining his Normal Teenager Identity #he streams random shit on YouTube/Twitch

#he's got the full gamer set up in the background #LED lights around the ceiling and walls #rainbow keyboard/headset#mini fridge filled with Monster Energy Drinks #(other streamers have 'take a shot' prompts in chat. his audience has 'drink water before you die')

#whenever he hosts a charity stream Bruce makes an appearance in chat via the official Wayne Enterprises account #and promises to match whatever they raise #and then hangs about for a bit to cheer Tim on #he's the epitome of 'are ya winning son?' meme

-Take A Sip of Water, Babes (everyone has to hydrate with him or else)

-Big Stretchy, You Shrimpy (Steph is his main moderator and named most of these)

-Time For A Scooby Snack (aka eat something before you die, Timbo)

-Show Us A Random Cool Thing In Your Room (self explanatory)

-Sibling Cameo (can be refunded if no one is around. Dick is a viewer favorite, and he's not opposed to lounging around in the background of charity streams, munching his way through a family bag of Skittles, and providing commentary on Tim's gaming skills.)

-Show Us The Doggo! (the only time Damian will willingly interact with Tim is to come in and show Titus off. Or whatever other animal he's added to his menagerie. The snake was a fun one. Not least because Tim didn't even know he had a snake until that exact moment.)

You know the kind of shows I mean.

The late-night talk show situations where they're making benign small talk with their smiling guest, and there's a segment where animals get brought out, usually to talk about some sort of ecological relief effort.

So you're watching your trash TV talk show late at night, and you get to watch billionaire pretty boy Bruce Wayne be begrudgingly talked into holding a (relatively) harmless creature which inevitably gets a lot of delighted shrieks from the audience as it starts being a lot more active than the handler promised. And to his credit, Bruce doesn't flinch, he doesn't freak out. But his eyes are a little wide, and his voice a little tight as the smile on his face takes on a slight rictus quality before he's inevitably rescued by an apologetic handler who is also laughing because they all know there was no real danger, it was just funny to put Bruce, who is an undeniable good sport and already laughing along, out of his comfort zone for the sake of charity.

Meanwhile, up in the Justice League headquarters, several founding members of the League are wondering how fast they can get a fake Oscar award shipped to the space station because fuck off. Absolutely fuck off, Bruce. Where the fuck did he study? Juilliard? (Probably.)

(Clark ends up going to a novelty store during the commercial break. It's faster than trying to get anything shipped, even with the infrastructure Bats built for them. He finds it several days later taped to his console in a conspicuously empty briefing room. It's gaudy and awful, the words "Best Actor" engraved on the plaque. No one's around to see him smile. No one comments when it vanishes. Everyone thinks it's been yeeted out an airlock. Dick absolutely comments when it shows up in the manor, stashed in one of the trophy cases that sprung up for all the bat kids' school awards. Bruce has no idea how it got there. Must have been Alfred. (It was not.))

The applause is deafening for a moment as the live band behind the podium strikes up a lively tune, ushering them into a commercial break.

"Really, thank you, Bruce," Murray Franklin says over the noise, angling his mouth away from the microphone on his desk. "You couldn't have got me to hold that fucking thing for all the money in the world."

Bruce inclines his head, a benign smile ever in place. "Oh, you know me, Murray. I'll try anything once."

"Well, that sounds promising," says a shrill, familiar. Bruce turns in time to find stagehands working rapid-time to construct a staging area behind the couch. And two humans holding two very distinct puppets aloft. Kermit the Frog and Miss Piggy.

"Hi-ho, Kermit the Frog here." The frog puppet extends a hand toward him, causing a ripple of laughter to go up from the audience. Bruce arches an eyebrow at the puppeteer but reaches out to take the felt-green hand being offered to him. Apparently, he's not supposed to engage with the humans. "This is my companion, Miss Pigathia Lee."

"Mr. Frog," he greets the muppet formally, feeling the first hint of a genuine smile tugging at his mouth. "Charmed to meet both of you. I'm a big fan of your work."

"Oh, gosh! Really?" The Frog gushes, emoting the pure joy Bruce remembers from watching television as a child. "I could say the same to you! All that good work you do for the city! It's really something."

"Thank you." Don't cry, Bruce thinks suddenly. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

Christ, it's like Mister Rogers telling you you did a good job.

"All right, save it for the camera," Murray interjects good-naturedly, pressing a finger to his ear and listening to whatever the producer is saying on the other end.

"Mr. Wayne?" Bruce turns to find his handler waiting for him, a makeup artist behind him. "Can we ask you to move over for this next part?"

"Of course." Bruce shuffles over. As he leans back, arm stretched out across the back of the couch he realizes what they're doing. They're using his bulk to block the sight of the puppeteers from the angle of the fourth camera. Clever.

He sits placidly as the makeup artist dusts powder over his face, listening to the instructions about how to talk to the muppets. Don't look at the puppeteers, look at the puppets. Treat them like real people. Try to keep it pg-13. Just act natural.

Natural, he thinks, his eyes skirting up to the stage beams and the shadows hovering above them. There's nothing natural about being Bruce Wayne.

"And we're live in five, four, three, two, one..."

The music swells to rising applause, and his smile slips back in place, as firm and solid as his armor. He zones out as Murray goes through the introductions. He's learned that no one minds if Bruce Wayne looks a little checked out at times. Christ, he's tired. He's half tempted not to go on patrol tonight. There's a dull ache building behind his eyes, and his ribs still hurt from getting hit with a crowbar. He hopes Dick is all right. Last night's patrol had been hard on both of them, hard enough that Dick had to miss school and spend the day in bed. Though he'd gotten up before Bruce left, adamant that he wanted to watch him make a fool of himself on television. He hopes no one else is watching. He hopes there's a mild disaster happening somewhere, and he won't have to listen to Clark ribbing him about how good he is with children and animals. Again. It's like being made fun of by a slice of apple pie.

Slowly, he becomes aware of the presence beside him. Bruce looks down to find Miss Piggy staring up at him, snout turned upward, head tilted in a manner that heavily suggests flirtation. Oh God

"Not that you have anything to worry about, Mister Wayne," the high, piping voice of Kermit the Frog informs him. "Gotham's far too damp for us Muppets to want to take over Wayne Tech, too."

Bruce smiles. He's vaguely aware of the plot of The Muppets Take Metropolis. Something about taking over LexCorp. He's surprised Luthor green-lit it. The other billionaire is normally so precious about being taken seriously.

"Oh, I don't know about that, there are lots of nice swamps around here," he says, gaze still on the amorous pig puppet inching closer to him. "Mud baths, too."

"Really?" Miss Piggy drawls, flicking her blonde wig over her shoulder, much to the amusement of the audience. "And are any of these mud baths on Wayne ground?"

He can't help but smile properly at that, mouth crooking to the side. He supposes he should have seen this coming. "Oh, yes," he says, inflecting the famous Bruce Wayne charm into his voice. "More than you can shake a stick at."

When the puppet's hand comes to rest its hand on his arm, his laughter is genuine. This might be the surrealist fucking thing that's happened to him in a while. And that's saying something because he got dosed with fear toxin last week.

"Now, Brucie," Miss Piggy drawls, "Don't tempt a girl with a good time."

Some absurd instinct makes him angle his body toward the muppet, smiling down at it like a real person. "Oh, Piggy Lee, you should know I never tempt. I can call you, Piggy Lee, can't I?"

"Honey, you can call me a cab because I'm ready! Let's skedaddle!"

"Well, how about that!" Murray exclaims, drawing the attention back to him as the audience loses it. "Kermit, he's trying to steal your girl!"

The Frog turns to look at him, to Miss Piggy, then back to Bruce. "Y'know something, Murray, I don't mind. Say, Bruce, are, uh, are any of those swamps nearby?"

Oh, he's never going to live this one down.

***

"So what's it like?" Clark asks, tone deceptively neutral.

"What's what like?" Batman asks, tone sliding like gravel over sheet metal.

"Meeting the Muppets?"

He thinks about it. "Surprisingly hard to look at the humans."

Also, because I might as well ride this crackfic into the Lazarus Pit:

The Muppets eventually do make a film with Gotham in it. The premise starts not unlike the other Muppet movies, where the Muppets are fractured, and Kermit is trying to get the gang back together. For this, he must travel around the US, finding the location of the other Muppets.

When the time comes to find Miss Piggy, the screen cuts to Wayne Manor, the other Muppets standing outside the imposing iron gates.

"Well, we tried," Rizzo intones nasally, already walking off. Gonzo catches him around the neck, hauling him back.

"Where are you going?"

"Home! What, you think she's going to leave Bruce Wayne?"

Kermit's face goes through numerous stages of grief before squaring into the kind of grim determination that can only happen when you have a fist for a jaw. "We have to try," the Frog affirms, then stoically presses the gate buzzer.

The scene cuts to inside the manor, where Miss Piggy is shown lounging on an opulent chaise, surrounded by immense wealth and luxury. Empty bottles of champagne everywhere and an inordinate amount of food. It's clear there was a party last night. She is dressed not unlike Debbie from the Addams family, her face covered by a fluffy pink eyemask embroidered in gold thread that reads "Wake Me In Paris" in gaudy, swirling font. In the background, a picture of Bruce Wayne and Miss Piggy can be seen on a table. The frame is neon pink and shaped like a heart. Bruce looks happier than he's ever done in his entire life. (Probably because he couldn't stop cracking up when it was being taken.)

There's a knock at the door, and she wakes with a snort, ripping away the eyemask. "What?" she demands harshly before correcting herself into a more ladylike twinkle. "I mean, who is it?"

Alfred appears as firm and imperious as ever. Perfectly straight-faced. "Forgive me, madame, but we appear to have a common rabble at the door."

"So? Release the hounds. Brother, do I have to think of everything around here?"

Alfred clears his throat, the slightest twitch of a smile on his face. It's gone before the camera can narrow in on it. "It appears they are friends of yours, madame. Ah, one Mister Kermit the Frog and, um, associates."

"Kermi!" she exclaims before she can stop herself. "I mean, uh, very well, send them in."

The Muppets traipse into the opulent room, googly eyes roaming everywhere in astonishment. "Wow," Gonzo breathes.

"Food!" Rizzo exclaims, lunging toward the comestibles and shoving his face into a bowl.

Gonzo hauls him back, glancing at Alfred apologetically. "Sorry.

But Kermit only has eyes for Ms Piggy. "You look well, Pigathia," he says solemn and sincere.

"I do? I mean, of course, I do." She harumphs, turning her back on him. "How could I not? I'm only the wealthiest pig in the world." She turns back, expression coy over her shoulder. "What do you want?"

"Well, we're trying to get the old gang back together. Our old theaters being shut down, and I just thought that maybe one last show might--"

"That's why you're here. For the show?"

Kermit takes a deep, shuddering breath. "No. That's not why I'm here. Gosh darnit, Piggy Lee, I want you back. I love you, and I know deep down" -- "way down," Rizzo supplies before getting elbowed -- "that you love me too."

She turns slowly. As though drawn by some invisible string. Her expression falls. "I do. I did. Once upon a time. But Kermi... Bruce takes care of me."

"I'll say--" "Rizzo!"

She carries on as if the others hadn't spoken. "I know you love me. But I also know I'll only ever be second best to the show. With Bruce," she sighs dreamily. "He's rich, handsome, and most importantly, dumb as a rock. I'm the most important pig in town. I'm practically running the joint. You really think I'm going to give up all this." She gestures around the grandeur. "For a penniless Frog who can't see past the next show?"

"Well..." Kermit hesitates, face falling. "Yes. I guess... I guess I did."

Gonzo and Rizzo share a look. "I think we better go," Gonzo says, placing a consoling hand on Kermit's shoulder. "Come on, guys. It was nice seeing you again, Piggy."

"Yeah, real nice," Rizzo intones, shoving as much food into his pockets as his little rat hands can grab.

Kermit shakes himself. "No. I refuse to believe it! This isn't you, Piggy Lee. You might think it is, but it isn't. All this wealth, the silk robes, the fancy food. I know you, Piggy Lee; I know you better than anyone, and you're not this shallow. You're a performer, a star. You were made to be loved by the stage. Not just some... some billionaire playboy who can give you whatever you want whenever you want. I have to believe that because otherwise, what the heck has it all been for? What have we been for? So what do you say, Pigathia? Will you come home? Come back to the show where you belong. For me?"

There's a long, heavy pause, and Miss Piggy sighs.

The following scene cuts to the Muppets flailing down the Wayne Manor driveway, yelling comically as several snarling rottweilers chase them.

"And stay out!" Miss Piggy yells after them. When she turns back to Alfred, she resumes her ladylike poise. "Alfie, be a dear and tell Brucie I'll be home late tonight. Mama's got some shopping to do."

"Very good, Madame."

She eventually shows up at the Muppet show at the last minute to save the day, a happy, bumbling Bruce tagging beside her. Later, when the Muppets are all on stage, the human protagonists, who are in the audience and seated next to Bruce, remark, "Wow, I can't believe they raised the money to save the theater!"

"They didn't," Bruce says with a small, knowing smile. His gaze turns to Miss Piggy adoringly, sighing wistfully. "But I just can't say no to that pig."

Henceforth it becomes Muppet canon that Miss Piggy and Bruce Wayne are in a heated on-again-off-again relationship. Neither Kermit nor Bruce seems to mind each other, leading to an episode of Sesame Street several years down the line where Elmo explains that sometimes a child can have one mommy and no daddy, or one daddy and no mommy, or have one daddy and one mommy, or two daddys and no mommies or vice versa, and sometimes if you're the Wayne kids, a daddy, a frog, and a pig.

The core of the joke relies on: the Batmuppet continuity by @thebibliosphere in which Bruce Wayne is in a relationship with Miss Piggy (and Kermit). It's a niche one, but it's got fan-art, moodboards, and at least one fic on AO3, and miss piggy is a very possessive, prone to fits of wrathful jealousy, and wouldn't share 'her man' wit anyone.

So, if we accept this continuity and the rumor that Batman is dating Fred Jones at the same time, then the mere fact that Miss Piggy hasn't killed Fred Jones becomes soft jokey evidence that Bruce Wayne cannot be Batman, because if he was, Miss Piggy woulda killed Fred Jones for 'stealing her man.'

This then seqways into the next fanon. The idea is that Bruce actively encourages a popular to debunk/dunk-on/meme-about internet conspiracy theory that: 'Bruce Wayne is Batman,' because the idea existing as a joke makes it harder for people to be taken seriously, even with evidence. Bruce posts several images of him as Bruce next to him as Batman to image boards with crudely drawn ms paint lines on top, which are titled something to the effect of "The Butts Match: Bruce Wayne is Batman confirmed." which then becomes a hit meme in gotham the way 'ted cruz is the zodiac killer' became one in our world.

Butt-matcher then becomes a dismissive term for anyone who thinks Bruce Wayne is Batman.

And has no idea the significance of doing so.

Oh, no, no. She doesn't do it to Bruce. She does it to the Joker.

They're at a televised charity gala, making the rounds. All the usual glitz and glam. Miss Piggy has just left to powder her snout when the shooting starts, and cries to "get down on the ground now!" reverberate through the room. It's almost half expected that the night is going to end in a hostage situation. It's Gotham, for Christ's sake. But no one's expecting the Joker. He's supposed to be in Arkham. The Bats just put him there. He shouldn't be out already.

Bruce is stalling for time, trying to give the Boy Wonder and all his other kids time to get to them. He's stammering, hands in the air, offering to pay whatever the Joker wants if he'll let all these people go. Except the Joker doesn't take ransoms. He barely takes prisoners. And he's got a gun aimed squarely at Bruce Wayne's forehead.

But Bruce keeps trying, inching forward on his knees, hands behind his head. Trying to figure out how much he can get away with in a room full of all these fucking cameras. He's going to get shot. He already knows it. It's just a question of whether he can duck and make sure it goes through his shoulder and not his head. Christ, he fucking hates guns.

"Come on," Bruce says, trying his hardest to sound both scared and amenable. "Everyone has a price. Name yours."

The Joker laughs, gesturing grandly with his free hand. "Tell you what, Brucie-boy, you'll get a price when pigs fly!"

The sound of enraged hoofs striking off marble makes itself known. A deep, guttural squeal tears through the night. The kind that hunters of old knew the fear and keep at the end of a long spear. The Joker turns just in time to see Miss Piggy flying through the air. Eyes red. Tusks bared. Hand raised. "HIIIIIII-YA!"

A) A running gag in The Muppets Take Gotham that Bruce Wayne might actually be Batman but the Muppets keep saving the day before he can change into costume (maybe a play on the matching butts?)

Or

Miss Piggy's Puppeteer (MPP): Holy shit, I think I just beat up the Joker? And his minions? And survived?? *starts hyperventilating as delayed reaction kicks in*

Other Puppeteer (OP): I saw that on the news, how did you do that?

MPP: Well, you know how we're trained to always be "on" when we've got our puppets, right?

OP: Yeah, and?

MPP: And you know that Miss Piggy graduated from that charm-slash-martial arts school and holds a purple belt...

OP: Oh no...

MPP: And that she's a real diva and can't stand somebody getting more screen time than her...

OP, burying face in hands: oh no...

MPP: Oh yeah. One second she's admiring herself in the mirror, the next second her "losing center stage" alarm goes off. The next thing I know, we're in the middle of a crowd of clown-faced thugs and she's "hiii-yah!"ing and taking out grown men five times her size while I'm just trying to keep up with her and wondering if I'm hallucinating that we just took out the Joker.

OP: Holy shit is right.

MPP: Yeah, my heart's still racing when I realize how close I came to dying.

OP: What did the police do to you?

MPP, looking absolutely shattered while giving a single laugh: That's... That's the worst part. Our teachers would be so proud.

OP: Oh no, you mean?

MPP: Yeah, they thanked Miss Piggy for her assistance, got into a ten minute debate as to whether it was legal to bring a pig in for further questioning, and finally released her from the scene. One officer slipped her his number.

OP: And you?

MPP: They didn't notice me at all. Afterwards, Bruce came over to thank her and kissed her hand and we continued into the gala like nothing had happened.

OP: And even he didn't stop to check on you?

MPP, laughing brokenly and scrubbing a hand down their face while slowly starting to give a shaken smile: Not even a single flicker of an eyelid. I've done it. I can't believe it. After so many years, I am finally one with The Pig.

OP, patting their back: Well at least there's that to celebrate. Want to go get a drink?

MPP: Your treat?

Batmuppet:

Chapter 5: 🎶We're flyin', not walkin', on featherless wings. We can hold onto love like invisible strings…🎶

Bruce froze mid-movement, brain whirring in disbelief. "Elton Villa," he repeated. "You mean to tell me someone willingly named their child Elton Villa?" "Yeah?" Dick said, like he was being weird. Bruce stared into the middle distance above Dick's head. Elton Villa. E. Villa. Now there was a kid who was preemptively going on his villain watch-list.

[Keep reading on Ao3]

Hey, thanks for sticking with me and continuing to comment. It's meant a lot while my brain has gone through the meat grinder of existing in 2026.

Hal Jordan meeting Dick Grayson for the first time after a fight: hey kid, what's with the creepy laugh you did back there?

O-okay, let’s get into this, shall we?

*grumbling* Would you rather work for Lex Luthor or the Joker- *shouting* Lex Luthor, by like, a fucking mile!

Yes, yes, working for Lex Luthor is basically like being an Amazon employee that makes weapons of mass destruction, which is bad. Lex is like Donald Trump mixed with Mark Zuckerberg mixed with Jeffrey fucking Bezos, it’s not a great mix. He does not treat his henchmen well. Their lives still suck, and they are probably monitored on how long they take piss breaks for.

But let’s analyze what working for Lex Luthor is like versus the fucking Joker. With Lex you probably get a dental plan, a health plan, a paycheck, and the guy that you’re fighting really cares about human life. Superman will hit you just long enough to knock you out, so you’re not a treat, so he can stop the problem.

If you work for the Joker, your payment is you’re not fucking dead. You say one wrong thing? Bang. You don’t laugh at his jokes? Bang! You do laugh at his jokes? Bang! You think Joker gives a fuck about a henchman?

Who’s Lex Luthor’s right-hand-man? It’s a woman, you sexist, her name is Mercy, she’s awesome. Who’s Joker’s right-hand-man? Bob? Nah, he’s dead. Harley? Tried to kill her multiple times. Slappy? Who the fuck is Slappy?

The best case scenario of working for the Joker is that you fight the fucking Batman! And that presents its own fucking list of problems. If you stop Superman as a Lex Luthor henchman, Lex’ll be pissed, but he’ll be at least happy that Superman was caught. If you stop Batman as a Joker henchman, you better have a fucking coffin picked out yesterday.

This isn’t a fun hypothetical question, this is a screening technique that the doctors at Arkham use to determine your mental health! There is a right and a wrong answer to this question, and the correct one is Lex fucking Luthor. Thank you for coming to my fucking Ted Talk, have a nice day.

History student falls in love with astrophysics student by Keaton St. James

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[poem text: listen, nine hundred and fifty years before jesus was a child shaking willow leaves out of his tangled curls, the author of the song of solomon wrote: behold, you are beautiful; your eyes are doves.

what i’m trying to say is that, in this universe which sculpted itself from a baptism of fire, i am the moon swept up by your tenderness. you’ve got me dreaming foreign words: gravity, ellipsis, perigee, until all i can think about is becoming anchored into orbit around the saltwater-green landscape of your laughter.

listen, plato of ancient greece wrote that the souls we each have now are only halves. that in a frenzy of blood zeus severed us from each other, so we rely on the blind tugging of our hearts. you say my name and i want to knit my bones into your bones, smooth away the boundaries of our heartbeats.

Edit: the title for this comic is “Puzzle Rat” this one’s a few days late due to having a lot of doctors appointments sorry it’s  just 9 pages, and about some rats… it’s more symbolic than anything really

totally unrelated to one another, i’m sure