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#marinette x cass
miracle-sham · 1 year
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Whence The Dragons Arise from the Darkness Inside.
| {MGI Civil War 3 Event} |
| {Dragons, Royal} |
| [Ao3 Link] | | [Masterlist Link] |
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| There was something wrong in the Kingdom, dragons razing villages to the ground and many people disappearing. Captured and dragged before the King, the rebel Ladybug must find out the truth before it becomes too late for her as well. |
| Word Count: 3809. |
| Warnings/Tags: Fantasy/Royal/Dragons AU, No Miraculous, Hurt/Traitor Adrien (he's not bad it's just complicated), Hurt Marinette, Hair Pulling, Chains, Blood and Torture, Canon-Typical Violence, Rebellion, Dungeons, Burns, Betrayal, Animal Transformation, Dragon!Mari, Dehumanisation and Abuse Towards a Character Transformed Into an Animal, Angst and Feels, Swearing, Rescue Mission, Ambiguous/Open Ending. |
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| A/N: If you couldn't tell yet, I'm a sucker for Dragon AUs so when I saw the prompt I just couldn't not write something for it! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it! |
| Also side note, Don’t Like? Don’t Read. |
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 The stained glass mosaic floor of King Gabriel Agreste the Scarlet Moth's throne room was cold and dug into the bare skin of Ladybug's shins and knees exposed by her torn and burnt leather armour as she kneeled before him. The manacles were even colder still, cutting into her wrists and ankles so tightly that she couldn't feel her fingertips or toes anymore. Though both the manacles and mosaic were slowly warming as blood trickled from her numerous wounds and began to pool, staining her red armour black in patches.
 She kept her gaze to the ground, head bowed, hair loose, veiling her face from the King's view. Breathing as even as possible but with every rise of her chest, a hitch in her breath. Her heart pounded like the ringing of a death knell. Is this the end? Was all she could think.
 “Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” The Royal Advisor Sancoeur announced, in her disgustingly opulent dress of dragon scales, peacock feathers, silk, and sapphires. The people were starving, were dying in the streets, and she could afford to wear something where half the materials were saturated in the blood of the poor who harvested them.
 Ladybug didn't react. She refused to acknowledge her old name, let alone be known by it. Marinette had died years ago, along with her parents and their home when it was razed to the ground by dragon's breath. Ladybug had survived a dragon attack, numerous in fact. Marinette had not.
 “You stand before—”
 Snorting loudly, her shoulders shook and the manacle chains rattled.
 The King stood, enraged by her audacity, fury practically crackling from him like lightning. “You dare—”
 “You call this standing?” She rasped, gesturing with jangling manacled hands towards herself, on her knees, bloodied and beaten.
 Footsteps approached from behind, slow and heavy, followed by the clank of a metal gauntlet being adjusted, was all the warning she got. In a split second, that metal gauntlet seized the back of her head. Claw-tipped fingers nicking her scalp and drawing beads of blood. Tangling in her ash-stained hair.
 Ladybug grimaced but refused to make a noise of pain. Refused to let her pain entertain and quell the King's wrath.
 The grip tightened. Her breathing stuttered. Barely stifling a whimper from the back of her throat. The gauntlet wrenched her head upwards to face the King. Like she was just a puppet on strings. It burned.
 Tears threatened to spill from the corners of her eyes as her vision blurred.
 Royal Advisor Sancoeur cleared her throat. “You kneel—”
 —Ladybug snarled up at them silently, blinking back the tears until her vision cleared and all that remained was the fury burning in her eyes. Sancoeur made it sound as if she were willingly kneeling before the King to offer her allegiance.—
 The King stared down at her, eyes dark, with a smirk uncurling upon his lips, as he slowly sat back down upon his white crystal marble and dark purple velvet throne.
 “—before the Royal Court, for the crimes of:” Royal Advisor Sancoeur took a breath, quickly unravelling a very long scroll, and began reading. “High treason, attempted regicide against the King, and Crown Prince on multiple accounts; abduction, attempted torture and indoctrination of the Crown Prince; misprision of treason, defection, sedition; abduction, torture, indoctrination, and endangerment via dragons of hundreds of Parisian children and young adults; espionage, brigandage, witchcraft on multiple accounts, murder on multiple accounts, and lastly, contempt of court.”
 Ladybug remained silent, not even bothering to listen to crimes attributed to her, for her gaze wandered over to the smaller white marble throne, lined with the palest blue velvet, in the shadow of the King's throne. Where the Cat's Paw of a Renegade Prince was seated primly.
 He did not meet her eyes.
 She didn't expect him to. But the shock of seeing Adrien—dressed in white silks, diamonds, and pale blue finery with that blank look in his eyes—made her lips curl up bitterly.
 A sharp tug on her hair dragged her attention back to the King and his Advisor.
 “Due to the nature of your crimes,” Royal Advisor Sancoeur continued, “you shall undergo trial by fire for each crime. If every burn heals once three days have passed, then you shall be proclaimed innocent of all crimes and released from Royal Custody.” She paused to allow the attending council to murmur amongst themselves.
 Ladybug didn't need to look away from the King to know that they were undoubtedly sneering down at her and mocking the very thought of her being innocent of the crimes.
 Royal Advisor Sancoeur cleared her throat to quieten the Court. “Should even a single burn fester, then you shall be proclaimed guilty of all crimes and be sentenced to burning alive unless you repent and seek to atone for your crimes, in which case you shall instead be sent to the oubliette for the rest of your days.”
 Three days. Three days. That's how long she had, to find out what had happened to all of the disappearances attributed to her and the rebellion, and then to either escape on her own, or hope that Cass or the rest of the Rebellion would come rescue her. Or else she'd die painfully either way. No one ever returned from the oubliette, a fate worse than death some would even consider.
 The King rhythmically tapped his fingers against the arm of the throne, still smirking down at her. “Send the traitor to the Ember Dungeons so that the trial by fire may begin as soon as possible. And ensure that she is given three full meals and clean drinking water, every day whilst we await the results.”
 The gauntlet wrenched her up onto her feet by the hair once more. Ladybug winced, unable to keep the grimace off her face from the pain.
 Finally releasing its hold on her, she twisted around to see who it was. A knight in dark grey and blue striped armour.
 Her heart sank. Eyes wide. Mouth agape. The gauntlet that had grabbed her—hurt her—belonged to none other than the new Captain of the Royal Guard (the previous was among the missing). Their spy, a fellow rebel, Dick Grayson. That… that hadn't been necessary, he could've just—
 She didn't know. He was supposed to be on their side but… Then why—why go so far?
 Swallowing thickly she turned away, hands shaking.
 Cass was going to be devastated if she found out what her brother had just done. What if she knew already—no, no, she would never stand for that, never would let that happen… but…?
 He shoved her between the shoulder blades. “Get moving.”
 Stumbling, she tripped over the manacles around her ankles. The only thing keeping her from falling over was Dick wrenching at the back neckline of her armour. She gasped helplessly, as her own armour choked her for a moment.
 “Move.” Dick ordered again, tone clipped and emotionless, letting go of her just to shove her again.
 Gaze flickering frantically around the throne room, she licked her lips, mouth going dry. “W-where…?”
 He scoffed, grabbing at the manacle chain around her wrists and dragging her across the room towards an unassuming door.
 Before she was removed from the room, two voices caught her ear.
 “The King's kindness is wasted on a wretched girl like that.” The first sneered.
 “Indeed. She's guilty without question, it's plain to see, those meals would be better given to those who actually deserve to be fed.” The second agreed.
 It took all her willpower not to turn towards them and spit curses at them. Not that the curses would actually do anything, but still, she couldn't help the slight curl of vindictiveness in her heart at their unashamed cruelty.
 Across hallway after hallway, through doorway through doorway, down stairs upon stairs, finally they reached a door blackened and warped by extensive scorch marks, and a wrought iron dragon-shaped knocker, deep beneath the Palace. It was like a maze, but Ladybug couldn't help the sneaking suspicion that Dick had dragged her around randomly to exhaust and mislead her so escape would be even more difficult.
 Dick didn't even glance at her despite the fact they were alone. He grabbed her by the nearest shoulder to him and kept her between him and the stairs back up to the palace. Grasping the knocker, he loudly rapped it against the door.
 With a decrepit groan, the heavy wooden door squealed on its hinges as it was prised open from the other side.
 A low dark stone tunnel lurked beyond, flanked by torch sconces on either side of the walls, and two dark purple armoured knights.
 Dick nodded to the two and began pushing Ladybug forwards, following behind her every step.
 She grit her teeth and kept her breathing slow and even, not uttering a single complaint as she stepped into the foreboding gloom.
 The knights watched her silently, turning their heads as she drew closer to them.
 But the second Dick stepped across the threshold, the knights raised their spears to his neck. Slipping into a defensive position that separated Ladybug from the exit, and Dick from her.
 “Halt. Remove your hand from the prisoner and return to your post.” The knight to the right ordered.
 Slowly, Dick raised his hand off of her shoulders and into the air. “I was instructed to bring the traitor to the Ember Dungeons for trial by fire.”
 The left knight nodded to him. “You have accomplished your order then. Now leave.”
 Dick did not move.
 The right knight grunted. “It seems you do not understand. This prisoner,” gesturing towards Ladybug, “is now under our jurisdiction. None may pass beyond this threshold barring prisoners and those in the Akuma Guard.”
 “As you are neither,” the left knight continued, “you are to leave and return to your post or the King shall be alerted and your ranks stripped.”
 Dick raised an eyebrow. “I am Captain of the Royal Guard.”
 “Your captaincy holds no power nor sway down here.” The right knight sneered.
 The Captain cast a disdainful glance towards Ladybug before stalking off, back into the palace without another word.
 Leaving her alone, with two Akuma Guard knights—a rank of knights she had never heard of before—and their spears blocking her only exit.
 Lowering the spear, the right knight slipped past her so that there was a knight on either side of her, and plucked one of the torches from the nearest sconce.
 “This way.” The knight grunted, metal sabatons clattering against the stone with every step.
 She didn't move, not at first. The right knight didn't turn around to check she was following.
 A sharp jab to the back forced her forwards. Letting out a hiss between her teeth.
 The left knight, the one still behind her, jabbed the tip of the spear into her armour, not quite piercing through it but applying enough force it still hurt. “Follow.”
 Closing her eyes for a moment, she breathed in deeply and then complied with the order. What choice did she have?
 Slowly, she began to walk after the right knight, keeping within the feeble light cast by the torch he carried; wary of the left knight close behind her.
 If the palace itself had been a maze, then the Ember dungeons were a labyrinth.
 It felt as though it took centuries to traverse the twisting and winding corridors of the Dungeon, splitting off into seemingly endless shadowed stone passageways and bolted iron doors. Eventually, the knights stopped in front of an iron door warped and rusted, clearly damaged by fire.
 The right knight stepped forwards, keys jangling as the heavy bolt was unlocked. A wretched squeal of the hinges anteceded the door swinging open into a dark cell. Just barely visible within the room, from the torch held outside, was a stone altar with black iron hoops and chains attached to it.
 Ladybug froze up.
 Snorting, the left knight shoved her into the room unceremoniously. And when she still didn't move willingly, he dragged her over to the altar and hooked the chains to the manacles around her wrists and ankles.
 The chains were long enough to give her some space to move but not enough to let her reach even halfway to the door. Escaping, or getting rescued was going to be harder than expected.
 She swallowed thickly, watching the knights in trepidation, barely resisting the urge to check the chains' limits right in front of them.
 “We suggest you get some rest.” The right knight stated.
 The left knight walked back to rejoin the other. “We shall return once preparations for your trial by fire have been sorted.”
 The heavy door slammed shut, faintly rattling the chains all the way on the altar from the force.
 “Do not try to escape.” One knight ordered.
 “It shall not end well for you.” The other finished.
 Ladybug listened to the rustling of the bolt and keys being locked, and then the sounds of the knights' sabatons marching off and away.
 Leaving her cold, and alone, in the pitch-black dungeon cell.
 She sighed, and tried to wriggle her wrists to test the chains and manacles but both were strongly made, she wouldn't be getting out of them anytime soon without something to break them.
———
 Ladybug bolted awake at the sound of keys rattling in the cell's door. She cursed under her breath, how could she have fallen asleep?
 The horrific squeal of the door opening pierced the air. Wincing, she squinted up at the doorway as torchlight flooded the gloomy room.
 Her heart plummeted as the sight of the King greeted her.
 Smirking down at her, the King stepped into the room, sceptre in hand. The two knights from earlier, flanking just behind him, one lugging a satchel in.
 The King put his hand out, and the knight dutifully pulled a piece of blood-red chalk from within and handed it over to the King.
 He brought the chalk up to his eye, the reds shifting in the dancing light of the flame. “Please try not to disturb the chalk once it has been laid out, otherwise we'll have to make it so you can't interfere, understood?”
 Ladybug nodded slowly, watching their every move with bated breath.
 The King rolled his eyes and curled his lip in contempt. “Good enough for now I suppose.”
 With a surprising grace considering how heavy the King's armour and cloak must've been, with the thick fur and excessive jewellery adorning him too, he began to draw strange symbols and lines in the blood-red chalk. He circled around her, connected the lines and adding more symbols until a multilayered ritual circle was fully formed centred around the altar—around her.
 She didn't dare move, if they were using magic to burn her for each crime instead then damaging the circle in any way could have devastating or even fatal results.
 The King then set out black candles at various points in the circle, and lit each one carefully.
 Ladybug swallowed thickly, gaze straying to the numerous flickering flames now surrounding her.
 Stepping back, the King bared his teeth at her in the mockery of a smile. “Now, let us begin your trial.”
 He swept his arm in a wide gesture, so that the sceptre pointed towards her.
 One moment there was scarlet energy crackled around the tip of the sceptre.
 The next, there was muffled screaming.
 It took far too long for Ladybug to realise it was her screaming, as she arched her back and thrashed against the chains. Tears streaming down her face as she gasped for breath between searing screams. Agony etched itself into her very bones with each passing second as the crackling grew louder and louder and louder and the room glowed brighter and brighter red.
 She struggled to swallow her still-beating heart as the darkness crept in at the edges of her sight.
 The King's maniacal cackles were the last thing she heard, as the pain claimed her consciousness.
———
 The second his shift had ended, Dick had cursed with every swear and minced oath he knew under his breath, and immediately set out for the city below. He needed to meet with Cass and the rest of their rebellion squad immediately. Dressed in simple non-identifying clothes and a black cloak, he dashed across rooftops until he reached the abandoned inn.
 Slipping in through a broken first-floor window, he darted through the clean but unoccupied room, and slid down the bannister to the bar room below.
 Cass and the others were already waiting for him.
 Felix was behind the bar, pouring a drink for himself and Allegra, whilst Mireille, Claude, and Allen were sat around a table in the middle of the room exchanging notes of some kind.
 Legs dangling from her perch in the rafters, Cass stared down at her older brother. “Where.” She croaked, red eyes and dried tear streaks barely visible in the low light.
 “Ember Dungeons.” Dick responded immediately, glancing towards the others, as he scanned the room quickly.
 “Fuck.” Felix hissed, nearly dropping the glasses.
 “Yeah,” Dick responded, swallowing thickly. “She's been sentenced to trial by fire, for every crime committed by the rebellion.”
 “You're joking!” Claude gasped, “that's not—”
 “It's the King. You think it matters what it's not.” Felix snarled.
 Mireille stood up. “How long? Until the trial?”
 Sighing, Dick raked a hand through his hair, dishevelling it. “The trial's already begun. We have three days to get Ladybug out and find out what we can about the disappearances.”
 “Shit.” Allegra grimaced, closing her eyes. “This is gonna be hell to pull off.”
 “We will save her.” Cass asserted, swinging down from the rafters. “We're not leaving her.”
 “It's not a matter of leaving,” Dick answered. “If we don't save her before the three days are up, then depending on whether she's proclaimed innocent or guilty by the trial; then she'll be sentenced to the oubliette for the rest of her life, or publicly burnt alive.”
 The second he finished speaking, the others all burst into yells.
 Dick breathed in shakily, closing his eyes so he wouldn't have to face them and waiting until the others grew quiet again. “Even worse.”
 “Oh no.” Mireille muttered, wringing her hands.
 “Ladybug recognised me whilst I was undercover, and reacted in obvious shock.” Dick licked his lips for a moment before continuing. “I had to keep pretences up because the palace is crawling with the King's observation magic, and I couldn't afford my cover to be blown before we got her out, so she probably thinks I'm a traitor, like the fucking Prince.”
 Claude slumped onto the tabletop, head thunking against the wood. “This is a mess.”
 “You can say that again.” Felix snorted.
 Shaking his head, Dick walked over to the table and unravelled a large map of every room on every level of the palace. He waited until Cass, Felix, and Allegra joined them at the table.
 “This,” he said, pointing at a small innocuous room, labelled cellar staircase, “is the entrance to the Ember Dungeons. After those stairs is a long corridor which ends in a burnt wooden door with a wrought iron dragon-shaped knocker. The Dungeons are beyond that door.”
 Allan frowned, furrowing his brows and pursing his lips. “But there's no evidence of any underground dungeons below.”
 Shaking his head, Dick sighed again. “The location is a heavily kept secret, I was only informed of it upon becoming the Captain of the Royal Guard, and even then I was refused access into the dungeons themselves.”
 “So let's get this right?” Allegra huffed. “We've got three days to work out how to break into the palace,—”
 —Dick nodded.—
 “—something not a single member of the rebellion has successfully achieved yet,—”
 —“Yep,” Claude piped up.—
 “—enter some dungeons in which we have no map and no knowledge of except that they exist,—”
 —“Uh-huh.” Felix chimed in drily.—
 “—And save Ladybug before she's executed or they make her disappear as well because I think we can all agree that they're clearly using the oubliette as an excuse for some of the disappearances.” Allegra finished.
 “Sounds about right.” Dick muttered darkly.
 Cass slammed her hand down on the map. “We will succeed. The King will pay.”
 Allegra sighed. “Well then, let's get your girlfriend back then.”
 And with a long night ahead of them, they began to plot.
———
 “How disappointing.” The King mused, lowering the sceptre to stare down at the tiny little pink-scaled and purple-spined dragon with red and black elytron wings, wreathed in dwarfing chains and curled up on the centre of the altar.
 The Flapling made a pathetic plaintive whine and twitched feebly, clearly still disoriented and in pain from the magic bleeding from the Sceptre.
 “And here I thought, that one of the most notorious and troublesome rebellion leaders, would have a more impressive draconic form.” He sighed, stepping towards the ex-rebel. “Such a pitiful nuisance, foiling my plans to the very end, aren't you.”
 Poking it with the tip of the still glowing sceptre, elicited a miserable cry, writhing and wailing as it tried to flail away from his torment.
 The King scoffed, eyeing her quivering form. “You'll be of no use in the raids against the rebellion, but with the right training, perhaps you'll still be of some use. If the Rebellion ever learn of what my dragons really are, do you think they'd hesitate from killing you? Perhaps even try to save you still?” He burst into laughter, wiping a tear from his eye.
 Turning to the guards, he gestured towards the dragon that had once been Ladybug. “Sedate it, clip its wings—the elytra shell, not the hindwings themself, need I remind you—and claws, muzzle it, then bring it to the Royal Tower Mews.”
 “Of course, Sire!” Both knights answered in unison, one removing the sedative, and dragon clippers from the satchel; whilst the other marched off to retrieve a fitting muzzle.
 The King chuckled lowly, watching as the sedative was applied. “I do wonder what your allies will think of you once they find out from henceforth you'll be on my side? Will they believe you've betrayed them, like my son betrayed you? Or will they think I'm merely trying to get under their skin and kill you under the assumption you're nothing more than a mindless monster?”
 The Flapling made no response, already stilling under the effects of the sedative.
 His grin widened as the remaining knight began to snip the protective shell casing. King Gabriel drew closer, plucking a clipped shard up from the ground in his free hand and hummed, inspecting the red and black colouration, a cruel idea forming in his mind.
 The rebellion wouldn't know what would hit them.
———
| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this Oneshot fic! Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are all much appreciated! And make sure to support the rest of my team's fics if you enjoyed this! |
| Also feel free to send me any comments with any questions you have regarding this fic, I’ll be more than happy to answer! |
| However, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |
| @maribat-get-in |
4 notes · View notes
the-coffee-fandom · 2 years
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What made me the most emotional after reading
though I'm not sure if I've read all of your fics already, I'm going for Death Bouquet on this one. That fic played with my heartstrings, especially the ending. And the flower languages are so beautiful and sad. What a way to suffer, slowly being consumed by the flowers while not knowing *who* is the cause of those flowers. Whew that one was a ride
Hi hi Spring <3
Ahhh yes yes I never say this about my writing but I adored that one. I put heck of a lot of time and research into it and I'm really really glad its appreciated!
Thank you for noticing the flowers!! I tried to make a story of its own just with the flower languages which hint at what I had in mind that happened for them to be apart and what exactly she was feeling but denying.
Yes, the suffering was a requirement. It was so much fun to write.
Thank you so so so much for reading and I'm really super glad you enjoyed it as much as I did <3
For anyone who crosses this post, you can find my fic, Death Bouquet, here
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batsandbugs · 1 year
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Bruce Wayne's Headache Classification System Chapter 4
IKEA Verse
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AN: I'm so sorry for disappearing for months again, things have been very hectic for me, but I finally got this done so at least I'm starting off the new year strong. No promises as to when the next one comes out. I hope y'all enjoyed this fun little look at the girls. I wish I included them in the first story, but I wasn't thinking at the time. I choose Steph for the POV because I felt her internal snide commentary could help balance Cass's more quiet reserve. There was an alternative ending for this that had Marinette using her powers more, but I decided to go with something softer and mushy. It felt in line with where Marinette would be comfortable showing the depths of her powers and continuing to drive the Batfam insane by not finding out how her powers work.
Chapter 4: Interlude - The Stalking of Daminette, a Treatise by Steph and Cass
Slate grey skies hang heavy over Gotham promising rain. The city isn’t any less busy for it, especially not during the day when most sane people agree, on average, it’s safer to conduct one’s business. Steph thinks that’s boring of them, but eh, she parkours over rooftops and punches goons as a night job, so maybe she’s the crazy one.
Wait. Weather. Grey Skies. Rain on the horizon and all that jazz.
Not the best of circumstances for a stakeout, but they’ve survived worse.
The rooftop they posted themselves on is comfy at least. No bird’s nests, piles of beer bottles, or scattered needles. Not too high they can’t observe the streets below. But not too low to the ground for people to notice they’re hanging out up here. Which is, strictly speaking, not exactly legal.
Also, they don’t want Damian to spot them.
Steph sighs, peering down at the coffee shop she knows Damian is sitting at, but she can’t see. She pops an M&M in her mouth and nudges Cass. “Pass me the binoculars?”
Cass lowers the equipment with a blank face stare. Well, blank face to anyone who wasn’t siblings with her. Steph is familiar with her pseudo-adopted sister’s micro-expressions. This one read clear as day, ‘why didn’t you bring your own?’ 
Steph blows out a frustrated pout, “I forgot, okay? Damian slipped out of the manor all wily and suspiciously and we followed him on a whim. I didn’t think to grab them. Couldn’t figure we’d pull a stakeout on our own little brother.” 
Cass signs, “I had mine with me.”
“Yeah, well we don’t all hide stakeout equipment on us at all times like over-paranoid busybodies!”
“You had snacks on you.”
Without a trace of guilt, Steph grabs another M&M and places it in her mouth. “Snacks are not surveillance equipment. They’re a normal thing to keep in your bag.”
“Your bag also contains mace, a taser, and smoke pellets too.”
“It’s Gotham, sis. That’s just best practice.”   
Cass rolls her eyes, but hands over the binoculars. 
“Yay! Thanks.” Steph places them to her eyes. It takes a second to adjust before she focuses on the cafe down the street. Damian sits at an outdoor table, alone, sipping a drink out of one of those tiny white teacups.
Pshh, what a pretentious little twerp.
“Wonder who he’s meeting?”
“IKEA girl?” Cass says aloud softly since Steph’s looking down the street and can’t read her hands.
Steph grins wildly, searching blindly for another M&M with one hand, holding the binoculars steady with the other. “Oh, I hope so. Timmy’s frantic rambling over her is the most entertained I’ve been all year. And Jay’s spittin’ steam over her little trick on him.” 
“Dick’s worried.” 
Steph waves a hand clutching three pieces of candy with a careless air. “Dick’s always worried, Cass. He’s a serial worrier. He doesn’t know how to do anything but worry.” 
Steph pops the chocolate into her mouth, watching Damian peer up from his phone and scan the street with keen eyes. She’s, like, seventy-two percent sure he doesn’t know they’re watching him. After all, they’re halfway down the street, fifteen stories up, lying belly down on the roof of an office building. But it is Damian. The League and Bruce trained him. Steph’s still convinced the little brat has the psychic power to know when he’s followed. 
“No info.” 
Steph sighs at the short-remark reminder of her family’s tendencies to stick their noses fucking everywhere. “Yeah, well maybe she has decent cyber security for her life. More people need to do it these days.”
Silence. 
Groaning, Steph grabs another few M&Ms out of pure stress. “You went looking too, didn’t you?” 
“Little brother.” 
Good lord, this family. They’re lucky she loves them so much.
“Yeah, yeah, I care about the brat too, doesn’t mean he needs his hand held constantly. He can make his own choices. Including hanging out with people, regardless of if his extremely invasive family managed to compile a dossier on her entire life.” 
“You said we follow.” 
Steph scoffs through a mouth of chocolate, “Yeah, ‘cause he was actin’ sus, just because I think we should leave her alone doesn’t mean I don’t think we should annoy him by stalking his date.” She focuses back on Damian. “Plus,” she mutters. “I don’t want to deal with Bruce bitchin’ about that car chase we pulled with the Volkov Family gang members, so this seemed like the better option.”
It wasn’t their fault the stupid goons running point from the pet shop’s back room decided to run on them.
“We helped,” says Cass resolutely.
“I don’t think B will see it that way.” Steph readjusts the binoculars and notices Damian’s attention sharpening. He looks out onto the sidewalk, eyes focusing on a person drawing closer. “Oh, oh, oh I think she’s here!”
There, approaching the café, in the cutest little yellow dress, a woman approaches and pauses by Damian’s table. Thanks to the high-tech binoculars she can view every emotion flickering across Damian’s face as his newest acquaintance greets him. He places down his cup and vacates his seat, pulling out the opposite chair and allowing the young woman to sit, before retaking his own.
Steph whistles lowly.
“Hmm…” prompts Cass.
“I- I don’t think the others are joking. He- he just pulled out her chair for her.” They are all capable of manners. Alfred made sure of that. Even for those in the family who’d joined later. (The disparity between the manners the Drakes’ taught Tim and the actual behavior expected of a Wayne was night and day and not in a good way. Meanwhile, people like Cass or Damian needed teaching ground up how to interact with people without pulling weapons on them. Quite frankly so did the rest of them, but Alfred was unafraid and whipped them all (metaphorically) into shape.)
So, yeah, manners.
Something they all could do.
But not necessarily likely to be performed by all.
Especially Damian.
Damian is like a feral raccoon who wields a bowie knife when it comes to Untested People. Short. Prickly. Rude in the way where you know you’re getting insulted, but the conversation already turned the corner and you stand there, shell-shocked, that this kid verbally bested you six ways to Sunday.
Of course, Damian isn’t much of a kid nowadays.
Standing as tall as Bruce and starting to shake off the lankiness of his teen years, Damian was growing into, as a posher person might say, 'a fine young man’. Steph still remembers him as that little feral kid, who only smiled when besting others or petting furry creatures. But no, now he’s smiling at other things. Adult things. Things that happened to include pretty French girls.
“She’s dangerous,” says Cass.
Steph pulls down her binoculars to find Cass peering at the seated couple with her phone, camera mode engaged, and zoomed in to see their interactions.
“Why didn’t you use that in the first place?!” Steph asks, annoyed. Reaching towards the candy wrapper her fingers find empty plastic. Damn it.  
 Cass narrows her eyes at her screen, ignoring the question. Steph huffs. Rude.
“What do you mean dangerous?” Replacing the binoculars, she focuses back on the couple. If she didn’t know who Damian was, her eyes would slip over them as another pair of lovebirds, eking out a final moment of good weather before Gotham’s stormy ways crushed the vibe. “She’s a little slip of nothing.”
“So am I.”
Steph rolls her eyes. “Yeah, but you were trained to fight since birth. She looks like the human embodiment of sunshine.” And the woman does. From this angle, she sees both their faces while they talk. The girl, Marinette, has sleek black hair possessing a blueish shine. Striking bright blue eyes and a smile that lit her face like the summer sun contribute to the overall impression this was a very normal, very friendly person.
“Looks are deceiving.”
“Of course, they can, and I’m not sayin’ she’s not sus, but…” she gestures down. “Look at them! This is the most normal I remember Damian acting in his life. Would he do that, could he really do that if he thought she was dangerous?”
“Hmm.”
“Don’t ‘hmm’ me! I’m serious! Sure, she might have powers, so what? Lots of people are magical and metas these days. Doesn’t mean she’s inherently dangerous.”
“No info.”
“Good security.”
“Something to hide.”
“A healthy sense of caution.”
Cass snorts. “She moved to Gotham.”
Steph pauses. And yeah, when you consider where the girl came from (Paris! Freaking Paris) and what she was studying… Moving to Gotham for a fashion degree sounds like moving to Las Vegas to join a nunnery.
“Yeah, okay that’s weird, I fully admit that. But maybe she has, like, I dunno? A danger kink or somethin’?” Steph shrugs. “Which, you know, is kinda good 'cause I think the demon brat has one too, so they’re like a match made for each other.”
Cass shoots her a highly unimpressed look.
“What!? At least I’m trying to think of somethin’ plausible, instead of jumpin’ to the doomsday scenario like the rest of you paranoid weirdos.” She turns back to her binoculars and her long-distance observing. “Listen, doin’ the whole overbearing intrusive family routine maybe isn’t the best way to act the first time Damian has, voluntarily, shown interest in a person more than complimentin’ their fightin’ skills.”
She places the binoculars back up to her eyes and watches Damian and Marinette chat. Damian’s smile hasn’t disappeared yet. In fact, it’s grown even larger. Marinette says something, her accent strong enough to throw Steph off on the exact words, and Damian throws back his head in laughter.
It’s a normal human reaction, laughing with such abandon. But it’s so not for Damian, that Steph’s mouth drops open in shock.
“Please tell me you took a picture of that?” she asks. Dick is so bound to freak the fuck out when he sees this.
“Mh hmm,” Cass hums in agreement.
They probably spend another thirty minutes watching the young couple. Cass takes pictures, and Steph makes commentary whenever Damian or Marinette looks sickeningly sweet. Cass sends the photos over to Steph’s phone, and in turn, she sends them to Dick. Most people would probably find it mind-numbingly boring, but both of them spend hours casing joints and running point of stakeouts before, so less than an hour is easy. But as the top of the hour approaches, the grey skies grow darker, and rumbling thunder appears.
Steph watches Damian blink as if shocked the weather suddenly turned bad.
Shit. Bruce would so kill him for that lack of awareness. “He’s in so deep,” she mutters.
“No covering. Will get wet,” Cass warns about their own situation.
Steph sighs, placing down her binoculars. “Shit, yeah, you’re right. Damn it, I wanted to keep watching them.”
Cass tucks the phone into her pocket with a sly smile and signs, “I took plenty of photos. We should go and find cover. Can’t head home yet because we took the bikes.”
“Yeah,” Steph mutters. Quickly though, she grabs the binoculars again and looks back at Damian and Marinette. The couple grabs their umbrellas – smart of them, too bad Steph didn’t think of those when she impulsively decided to follow Damian – and head off down the street. Together.
The date, apparently, isn’t over yet.
“Do we wanna trail them?” she asks Cass. “Any chance you stored umbrellas in that bag of yours?” Half joking, half serious. What? You never know.
Cass shakes her head though. “No, but I do have ponchos. Do you want to follow them? They’ll be heading inside. Damian will surely spot us.”
Steph snorts, highly doubting it. “He’s so damn distracted at the moment, I’m pretty sure an alien invasion could happen down the street and he wouldn’t notice unless little-miss-sunshine started screamin’.” She grins, wide and mischievous. “Pass me a poncho sis. We’re not giving up this hunt yet.”
Despite the high-quality ponchos, they still end up quite soaked. That’s the tradeoff for having an unnoticed trail high above their intended targets. Sharp stabs of water bite at their faces, as they race across the rooftops. Steph’s shirt clings stuck to her body, damp and humid between the poncho and her chest. Damn, a shower is gonna feel soooo good later.
For any normal person, the weather would make it impossible to follow the young couple. Not to mention the distance from the ground. But Steph and Cass were trained by the best hunters in the world, following their prey was simple – if very wet and uncomfortable – matter.
Rain pours from the sky even faster, thunderous noise drowning out all other sounds, and quickly empties the streets below. The typically numb Gotham populace seeking shelter from the crappy weather. Eventually, Marinette and Damian duck into an older building, the overhead awning buckled in from the rain collecting on top. The windows are dimly lit, and a cracked and faded sign flickers reading:
MAGNUS ANTIQUES ~ EST. 1902
Cass and Steph cross over the street with a quick grapple line. Both wouldn’t dare under normal circumstances; it’s the middle of the day and they aren’t even in domino masks. The slip in procedure would hardly endanger them with nobody around, heavy clouds turning the early afternoon dark as dusk, and the rain pouring thick sheets, obscuring even the highest tech cameras. They land on a building next door, and carefully climb down the siding, landing in the alleyway, behind the antique store.
A young man, in his mid-twenties, slouches against the brick wall a few feet down the alley huddled under another old and tattered awning that barely keeps him dry as he vapes. The shop’s back door sits propped open with a crate, and it takes all of a second while the man leans against the old brick façade with his eyes closed enjoying his few minutes of damp peace for Steph and Cass to slip quietly inside through the back door.
Score!
An old, musty smell hits them as they creep through the back entrance. Piles of boxes line the walls, old antiques half-boxed, or laid on shelves. The store is dark and stale. All of old Gotham oozes an aura of grime and darkness to it, like no matter how hard you scrub the walls and floors will never be clean, the shadows grow thicker in corners, and the cold lingers even in the depths of summer. But that might just be the fault of an old store with even older objects inside. Steph’s never put much stock on that old fairy tale of Gotham being cursed and all.
Under a worktable sits a box – of what she could generously call towels but would more accurately call rags – and they wriggle out of the rain-soaked ponchos. Steph stuffs the soaked ponchos in the box and pulls out a handful of the least questionable-looking rags. Handing one to Cass, Steph does her best to sop up the worst of the water.
“I’m gonna get blisters later,” Steph whines softly, her toes wriggling in soaked-through socks.
“You always have blisters, all of us do,” signs Cass, drying the front of her shirt.
“No, we have calluses, we haven’t formed blisters since we were teeny tiny baby vigilantes who didn’t know shit and our bodies thought they had the right to strike about their living conditions.” Steph tries to wrangle the water out of her hair. “We wear waterproof suits though, so my feet don’t get regularly soaked.”
“Well, sorry for not having pocket rainboots too,” Cass signs sarcastically, rolling her eyes.
“How unprepared,” Steph shoots back, gaining another eye roll in return.
Steph pulls her hair into a ponytail and wrings out her shirt and feels slightly more human now they’re back on dry land. Cass, with her pixie cut, vigorously scrubs her hair with a towel before it flops out, mostly dry. Lucky.
Quietly, both of them creep out of the back workroom. A glistening crystal doorknob attached to an old wood door sends Steph cringing when it creaks open into the store proper. Dim lighting flickers above, a high wine pitch of electricity crackles in the old wires. Tall shelves chock full of nick-nacks and blasts-from-the-pasts cast the store in even deeper shadows. Heavy rain pounds the building’s walls, mixing with the hum of electricity. Barely any light pierces through the charcoal clouds, which traps the store in an evening aesthetic rather than the middle of the afternoon.
Steph turns to Cass, signing, “Spilt up? Or stick together?”
Cass shakes her head. “Stick together, two chances to spot us are worse than one moving target.” Steph nods in agreement.
The store is quiet, minus the rain and a faint sound of classical music drifting from the front. Steph pads softly over wooden floorboards, which look like they’ll creak if you look at them wrong, and Cass follows behind, silent as a mouse. Rows of shelves stretch from front to back, ladened down with objects, Furniture and old clothes pile up on the sides. It is a chaotic, yet organized mess. None of it’s her style, but she’s sure Tim would enjoy it in here.
Slowly, ever so slowly, they creep from aisle to aisle listening for the low drawl of Damian’s pretentious voice. The store’s chaos turns what should be a straightforward search into a winding maze, but eventually right before they turn a corner, Damian’s distinctive scoff rings through the air and stops Steph and Cass in their tracks before giving the game away.
Ducking into one of those separated booths – the kind most antique stores were made of, creating tiny stores within one big one – a genuine score, because Magnus Antiques only sported a few. Fully cluttered with racks of mothball-smelling vintage clothing, the booth made for a perfect hiding spot, while also allowing them full-view access. Steph swipes a dull scarf off the table and ties it over her head, helping to disguise her distinctive blonde hair, as she hides halfway into a rack of big, dull winter clothing. Cass, using her smaller size and an all-black outfit, gracefully climbs an antique dresser and camouflages with an elaborate black feathered bouquet.
Truly, masters of stealth.
Damian and Marinette walk into view; fully focused on the shelves before them, and completely oblivious to the stalker duo creeping in on their date.
“I can call us a car. We do not need to linger until the storm passes,” Damian says with that highly entitled vibe he always gives off, despite Steph knowing Damian’s pretentiousness is mostly a font these days.
“Oh, come on Damian,” chides Marinette, crouching low to look at the bottom shelf. Her accented lilting voice is soft but carries in the quiet store. “It’s just a little bit of bad weather. There’s no reason to call a person to drive through it, we don’t want anyone hurt in an accident. We can wait it out here.”
Damian’s face contorts, “Here?” Eyeing the shelf full of porcelain dolls with dread – which, you know, totally fair. They were creepy as fuck.
But Marinette rolls her eyes and shifts through the pile on her side. “Yes, here. It’s like a treasure hunt, you never know what you’ll  find.” She pushes a large black blanket off a cardboard box and smiles wide. “Ooh, see, a whole box full of ribbons and trim.” She fully falls to the floor and starts pulling rolls out of the box.
“Careful, we are likely to find germs.” Damian swipes a finger across the shelf and pulls it away covered in dust. He grimaces. “Or tetanus.”
Marinette giggles, like actually giggles, and not out of politeness either. She genuinely finds Damian’s offbeat, dry-as-a-bone, humor funny. Steph, safely out of sight, rolls her eyes. Oh, good lord, they’re perfectly horrible for each other.
“Says the man willing to climb into a box store air vent shaft at the drop of a hat.” Steph watches as Marinette sets aside a number of trims to buy.
Damian places a hand against his chest, offended. “That was tactical. This is stubborn desperation.”
“We were on the run, sounds a bit like desperation to me.”
“On the run? We were hunting our prey.”
Marinette’s face turns questioning, “Oh I’m sorry, did you not get chased by Jason with a nerf gun through half the store and the back areas? Was I not barely outrunning Dick before I took out the store’s electricity? We won by luck and the skin of our teeth. That does not sound like apex predators to me.”
Damian turns to the shelf he’s standing on, and, with a mutter, Steph barely makes out, says, “We could have taken them.”
“Sure, in a fight,” says Marinette without skipping a beat. And oh, isn’t that interesting. Steph knows the boys don’t tone down their personalities and skills the same way Bruce does (he doesn’t so much as tone down, as does a complete one-eighty, but it works for B, so Steph ain’t hatin’) when out of costume, but even they wouldn’t be so stupid as to act completely like their vigilante selves. It’s still, you know, not a lot, and Marinette probably saw more than most due to the game’s competitive nature. So, for her to say she could take them in a fight, with certainty, means she thinks quite highly of her own skills.
She could totally be overestimating herself.
Or… the rest of the family could be right, and Marinette is very dangerous indeed.
“… but we weren’t trying to take them in a fight, we were trying to outlast them. And anyway, it’s a moot point, we won, they lost, and now they hate me.”
Well, at least she was perceptive, Steph would give her that.
“They don’t hate you,” Damian shoots back.
Marinette rises from the floor holding an old roll of ribbon, bright emerald green, the lettering faded and worn on the cardboard spool. She lets out an inelegant snort, “Fine, Dick is suspicious, Tim is frustrated, and Jason hates me.” 
Oh, she’s very perceptive.
Damian pauses for a second, then tilts his head and smiles thinly. “Yes, it is quite likely Todd does hate you. But he should blame me, not you. I told you what to say. He’s directing his anger all wrong.”  
Steph blinks. That was… a shocking amount of self-reflection from the demon spawn. All directed towards this tiny little slip of a woman who looked like she could barely harm a fly, much less impress the likes of Damian Wayne. At this point, Steph has to believe this girl is magical because this shit is just unreal.
“Perhaps, but what I said obviously scared him-”
“That’s what we were trying to accomplish,” Damian mutters, mulishly.
“And one day I will learn the context of it, so I can properly apologize.” Steph watches Marinette’s eyes; focused and regretful. “I know I do not have their trust, and I do not have the right, but when I do, I will.”
Damian’s face flickers through emotions faster than a roulette wheel, eventually settling on a variation of soft and amazed Steph’s only seen on a besotted movie protagonist. And barely makes out his words. “I have no doubt you will earn those secrets. Your heart is big enough, and your will strong enough to melt my family’s own.”
Oh.
Oh.  
Steph's mouth falls open in complete shock. Damn… just, damn.
This isn’t just a crush.
This is full-on, head-over-heels, besotted beyond belief, in love.
Damian is implying Marinette is important enough to earn the details of Jason’s death, to know why he was so scared of his family being hurt and dying and him unable to help (yeah, Jason ranted to her about Marinette’s little speech; yeah, it was harsh, but what else could you expect from Damian, he doesn’t do shit by halves). All of that implies she’ll learn of their identities, the biggest secret their family kept under lock and key. Only a handful of Justice League members and assorted friends (and enemies) knew of their full identities.
This is a girl Damian met two and a half days ago.
Steph, nearly so lost in her own shock and incredulity, almost misses Marinette’s reaction.
Face flushed and eyes tilted down, Marinette’s smile conveys embarrassment, joy, and a hint of sadness all at once. “Has anyone ever told you, you’re very sweet?”
Sheepishness seeps into Damian’s face and body, as he raises a hand to rub the back of his neck, a move making him look exactly like Dick. “Most people say the exact opposite, or they are in the middle of cussing me out.”
He’s not wrong.
Marinette's smile grows wider, “Well, I’m-”
“Not most people.” Damian and her finish together with a look building the foundation of an inside joke.
“No, all the more I learn of you,” Damian says, tone fond. “I find you are definitely not most people.”
“I aim to impress,” Marinette says, with a sly and besotted smile, and Steph doesn’t know if she will pass out from the sweetness or vomit, and at this point, it could go fifty-fifty. The woman looks over Damian’s shoulder. “Looks like the rain stopped.” Steph vaguely sees weak rays of light coming from the store’s front. The kind indicating the Gotham sun, a rare and noteworthy presence, has burst through the clouds to shine upon rain-soaked streets. “I should probably head back to my apartment before it starts again; I have a commission project to work on.”
Damian readjusts himself, folding away the soft, besotted emotions until he looks more like himself again. “And I need to return home as well, my father’s back from his business trip and will wish to speak with me.” He winces, “He is most likely already speaking with my brothers, which means I need to run interference before they blow the entire situation out of proportion.”
Marinette smirks, unrepentant and teasing, and for the first time Steph understands why Jason kept ranting ‘she’s just as demented as he is’, “To be fair, we did set Tim on fire, and break the store multiple times.”
Damian smirks right back, and “First off you broke-”
“We, don’t forget your part with the display and tying up a security guard.”
“-second, we set fire around him, he wasn’t hurt. No one got hurt. Except for their pride.” He pauses, and amends, “Well, perhaps that unpleasant woman at the end had an aneurysm with her screaming, but that’s hardly our fault, so it shouldn’t count.”  
Both of them laugh until it fades into a contented silence. Then, Marinette places a dainty hand on Damian’s arm, and says, “This was fun. We could… do it again sometime?” For the first time, uncertainty crosses the young woman’s face.
Damian’s face, on the other hand, is as eager as Steph has ever seen it. Wow, what must his head and chest feel like with all these new intense emotions bandying about? “Uh, o-of course, yes, this was fun. We’ll… text?”
“Sounds like a good idea.” Marinette leans down and picks up the small pile of trimmings and ribbon she found in the box earlier. The spool of emerald ribbon balanced on top.
“You took the bus in? I can walk you to the stop?” Oh, kid; if he had a tail, it would be wagging.
Marinette tilts her head, “Didn’t you ride in on a motorcycle? Shouldn’t you take advantage of the break in the rain?”
Damian shrugs off the offer, “I drive in far worse than a little rain regularly..” 
“Don’t compromise your safety for my own, I can take care of myself perfectly fine,” Marinette says. 
“I’m sure you can, but I want to,” insists Damian. “I parked near the bus stop’s location, it will be no trouble.”
“Alright then, maybe on the way you can tell me more about that art store you mentioned was down my way, I’m looking for a new set of brushes; mine became damaged in the move.” They walk down the aisle and swiftly out of view and hearing range.
Steph doesn’t move, and neither does Cass until Marinette pays for her purchases, and they hear the door to the shop open and close with a creak and a chiming of bells. A second more passes by, before Steph slips out of the clothes rack, and Cass descends the dresser, and they stand in silence for a moment.
“Whelp,” Steph says, popping the p. “That was certainly something. I don’t quite have the words for it yet, cause my brain’s still rebooting. How about you Cassie?”
Cass shakes her head, then pauses, contemplation playing across her features. “I still think she’s dangerous. Her body has the grace of a fighter, with years of practical experience moving quickly and efficiently. But I don’t think she uses her magic, whatever it may be, to influence Damian.” Cass smiles, now looking like a cat holding a canary between her lips. “That’s all due to him being very, very in love.”
“Great, so I wasn’t the only one seeing literal hearts in Damian’s eyes, cool, cool, cool.” She stretches her arms high above her head, spine popping brutally, as she tries to get feeling back in her limbs after observing the two lovebirds for long. “Well, I’m not in the mood to deal with Bruce and his game of twenty questions, so what say we go eat? How ‘bout the new Italian place that opened near my apartment, worse case it starts raining again and we head back there, we covered and hid the bikes well enough.”
Cass nods and they leave the store, passing by an ancient old man seated at the front desk totally absorbed in a creaking leather tome. Summer sun barely peaking through gaps in the clouds. It hasn’t truly stopped raining yet. The sky drizzles a small smattering of rain, and fog mists up from the pavement. It’s a pleasant change from the chaotic, faint oppressive feel of the antique shop.
Steph’s brain turns over the interactions she witnessed between Damian and Marinette. It shouldn’t be such a big deal. People meet, flirt, and fall in love all the time. But it just is because it’s, well, Damian. Even as a little kid he always seemed so removed, he really wasn’t, but he was good at pretending. Steph never pictured him falling in love, not because he wasn’t capable of it, but because she always thought he’d be too prickly for anyone to break through his walls. And certainly not a civilian who had no clue about their double lives.
Steph hopes everyone comes out on the other side, lives, and emotions relatively intact, and in the meantime, she plans to wring this situation for all the blackmail material it’s worth.
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I had so many ideas for Jubilation and now that we're done with that mini marathon of episodes, I can catch up on drawing them
LB: "That AWFUL mustache..." CN: "I had a mustache?" LB:"It ruined everything, take that out of your fantasies from now on!" CN:"But Ladybug... I've never dreamed of a mustache on myself...
LB:"But...but that means..."
Bonus, a wedding gift from Ladybug:
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ggomos-maribat · 2 years
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[38/?]
BDBWM Day 25 | Little Mari + Twin AU
original prompt | complete masterlist
Okay this is how it’s gonna go: the parts for the angst week of BDBWM will be up after the ones for the final week because the angst week will be containing parts that will affect the plot and continuity of Fox DCW So that means we’re starting off this week with Little/Older Mari and next week will be Forgotten/Lost :D
Adrien is beyond jittery. And he’s stressed. And his scalp is hurting because Damian is pulling at his hair at the back. 
Adjusting a tiny Marinette in his arms, he rings the doorbell. To his relief, Alfred answers. 
“Hey, Alfred.” He waves sheepishly. “So . . . remember when my friends and I sometimes help Ladybug in experimenting guardian potions?” 
The butler raises a skeptic eyebrow.
“Yeahhh, so this happened. Just an unexpected side effect. It will wear out soon, don’t worry. They’re about the same age right now? Not sure.” Adrien hurriedly shoves the toddlers towards Alfred. 
“Oh dear, I must order some diapers and baby food.” 
“Yup! And a lot of tissues and wipes. Thanks Alfred, bye!” Adrien practically runs back to the manor’s front steps, glad to finally escape the terrible two. 
---
“Alfred . . . what?” Bruce stares dumbfoundedly at the two children in Alfred’s arms. 
“Master Bruce, it seems like Miss Marinette and Master Damian have been caught in Ladybug’s magic during their stay in France.” 
Little do they know that she still has the consciousness of her real age, just not the physical capabilities.
Marinette squirms a little. “Dada?” 
 Her father looks like he’s about to cry.  She huffs. Just because we weren’t with Dad yet when we were toddlers . . . 
“The supplies!” Bruce starts to get alarmed. “What do we do? How do they get turned back? Do we have to buy baby food?” 
“Master Adrien did say the effect will wear out but I’m afraid he did not specify how long.” 
Baby Damian’s glare intensifies. 
---
“Ow, hey—careful, Baby Bird.” Dick holds the struggling toddler in his arms carefully. “Alfred? Have you seen Mari—” 
He gasps out loud, spotting the tiny girl perched high up on the chandelier. Marinette giggles and swings around, making Dick’s soul migrate out of his body. “Marinette!” He screeches. “What the fu—dge! How did you get up there?” 
The menace crawls to the dangerous edge, and Dick immediately hands Damian off to Alfred, who has an amused look on his face. 
“Don’t look at me like that, Alfie! I knew how to get down when I was a kid,” Dick groans. He raises his arms, looking up at his little sister. “Mari! Don’t move from there, okay? I’ll come get you!” 
Marinette crawls more, tipping the chandelier a little. 
“Nononononono! Mari, stay there!” 
---
Jason is facing one of the most threatening enemies of his life. 
He holds the fresh new diaper in one hand as he and Damian are locked in a stand-off. And somehow, the kid managed to get his hands on the katanas and one of his guns. 
“Demon Spawn,” he says threateningly. “We just need to change your diaper.” 
Damian spits out a string of garbled words which sound as threatening. He waves his swords in front of Jason before lunging, nearly slashing his leg. 
“Fuck! Damian!” Jason scolds angrily. 
“Language!” Tim calls out from the other room. 
“They’re not actually babies!” Jason yells back. 
At that moment, Marinette rushes into the room, holding Jason’s other gun. He pales in a millisecond, and attempts to chase her but she giggles and runs around to escape his clutches. 
---
Tim stares down at his mug, slowly registering that its contents were not in fact coffee, but warm milk. Then, he slowly looks at baby Marinette, who’s drinking out of her sippy cup.
“Wait, wait!” He reaches for her drink to see that it is his coffee. “Bruce is going to kill me! You can’t drink that, Mari!” 
“Cowwffeee,” Marinette whines, sticking her tongue out.
“No coffee! You were supposed to drink this milk!” 
Marinette gulps down more of her coffee in response. Tim wrestles it out of her grip, unfortunately drawing out a wail and a full sobs from the girl. 
Bruce walks into the kitchen just in time. Marinette runs to her father and wraps her little arms around his leg. “Dada!” she cries. “Tim thiefyyy!” 
---
“You’re so cute!” Stephanie coos at a preening Marinette. “Bruce, are you taking them to work?” 
Bruce nods, putting his suit jacket on. “No one’s available to babysit today, so I will be taking both of them.” 
“Okay, wait here.” Stephanie runs off with the two children for a few minutes. When they come back, Marinette and Damian are dressed in miniature business suits, complete with ties and tiny briefcases. 
Bruce gets into a Mother Hen mode and fusses over them, smoothing the wrinkles on the fabric and getting a sword out of Damian’s grasp. Stephanie adoringly takes pictures, ‘aww’ing every other minute.
The board meeting becomes quite eventful. Marinette is on her father’s lap, scribbling on a document with crayons and markers. Sometimes, she opts to take the marker and draw over Bruce’s face as he’s talking to the other members. The other meeting attendees can’t say a word against it because Bruce is the CEO after all. He’s come up with the alibi that the children are his niece and nephew he’s stuck taking care of. 
She glances over at Tim, who had Damian on his lap. He looks about half dead. Damian has been trying to clobber him for the past hour or so, picking up pens, paperweights, a mug, and even document folders to hit him. Now that there is no makeshift weapon at Damian’s disposal, he’s now attempting to bite Tim’s arm. 
“We have to take away funds from the designs partnership to increase funding for other sectors,” one of the board members says. 
Marinette stops and slams her fist on the table, scowling. “Booshit!” 
Bruce raises a judgmental eyebrow. “The financial reports from that project have been flawless. They’re operating at a smaller budget than the other lavish partnerships we have.” 
“But Mr. Wayne—” 
“You heard her. We are not touching the funds for that partnership.”  
Taglist:
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folk-ever-lore · 2 years
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cassette social media au
done for the MGI Maribat Mixer 2022
PROMPT: "NO NO NO SORRY, I JUST HONESTLY DIDN'T THINK YOU EVEN KNEW MY NAME."
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Prompt and quote requests!
Got a prompt you want to see in a calendar next year? Send us your prompts!
This year we are also accepting quotes, so long as they are short (preferably one line).
If you have a calendar preference, include it in your submission!
No limit on number of submissions.
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jasontoddssuper · 10 months
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If i'm being completely honest,i'm really sad that i can't enjoy Maribat and Dp x Dc.I was a Miraculous Ladybug kid and a Danny Phantom one too and DC is one of my biggest special interests and i absolutely agree that Marinette deserves a million times better than what she's given in canon,especially because i relate to her so much(like how i'm biracial),and i have a general spinterest in superheroes so i deeply wish i could join in on the fun.I even love a few of the ships,i think Tim and Marinette is a perfect fit!
But even if it didn't frustrate me greatly that these fans don't even read comics,i can't look past how much they normalize racism and harmful relathionships.Marinette and Danny got picked up as Batkids because of having blue eyes to delibaretly erase Duke and Cass,Alya gets bashed all the time and Marinette gets excotified(?)and infantalized,there's shipping adults with minors left and right and ofc even more in///cest between adoptive family members than before.Maribat and Dc x Dp could've been great but as always awful people have to ruin good things
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bee-a-garbage-shipper · 2 months
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*MariBat meaning Non Polyamory Marinette x BatFam Member Ships
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disaster-biraven · 3 months
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Mignonettes - Stephanie x Marinette Hanahaki Drabble
“I told you,” Stephanie said, exasperated “and you thought it was a joke!” “In our defense, Paris sort of hid from the rest of the world?!” Dick looked up from the computer bewildered. “Plus I imagine their magic had something to do with us not believing you, Spoiler.” Tim said from where he was spinning around in an office chair. “Ladybug and Chat Noir are hesitant to accept our help, but if I extend my stay in Paris-” Steph was cut off by a round of coughing.
Then the worst person for Steph’s situation walked in. Cass would clock that something was wrong in an instant. Steph had only had Hanahaki for two weeks, but she was aware of her feelings for Ladybug before that. The two Parisian heroes reluctantly let her aid in Akuma attacks but were still on the fence as to whether it was a good idea for the rest of the Bats to help.
“Sorry, just a tickle in my throat." Steph cringed internally as that lie caused Cass to do a double-take. “Anyway if I-” This time it wasn’t just coughs as the scent of mignonette became overwhelming to her.
Tim stopped spinning, and Cass started toward Stephanie. As she reached Steph, Dick had already slid a box of tissues across the Table. Steph tried to hide the bloom that she had coughed into the tissue when Cass put her hands on Steph’s shoulders.
“It’s not just a tickle, is it?” Cass searched her face before reaching for the tissue. Knowing Cass already knew Steph let her.
~
After finally convincing the heroes to let the rest of the Bats help figure out Hawkmoth’s identity, Steph stood nervously on a roof in Paris, waiting for Ladybug to open the portal to the Batcave. After her having Hanahaki was revealed they had interrogated the blonde till she revealed it was Ladybug. Now they were about to meet her. A hand settled on her shoulder.
“Spoiler, you okay?” Ladybug gently turned Steph toward her. “You seemed off today?”
“Um, I really should have told you this sooner,” Stephanie reached into her utility belt and pulled out the flowers she coughed up during patrol. “But I may have maybe, accidentally, sorta, fallen in love with you?”
She looked up from the flowers at Ladybug to find her blushing. And not blinking.
“Um, Ladybug?” The Parisian blinked rapidly before pulling her into a fierce hug. “I’m sorry you felt you couldn’t tell me sooner, but just so you know,” she paused to peck her on the cheek “It’s very much reciprocated.”
author's note: if you liked this please check out my other stuff on ao3!
https://archiveofourown.org/users/disaster_biraven/works
And please join us on Discord! This community inspired me to write!
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Kiss from a rose
Flower shop owner Cass x Baker Marinette for my wife @boldlyanxious. happy early birthday congrats on Age
Marinette stood under the awning of her shop, frowning at the thick droplets of rain threatening to soak her in seconds if she dared to step out from under it. The forecast that morning had suggested a zero percent chance of rain. They had insisted that the clouds overhead were simply the classic Gotham pollution that they all knew and hated. But no. It was pouring. She hoped that the news anchor would get targeted by the mob again. They deserved it.
Okay, perhaps she was being dramatic. She was annoyed, though. She hated rainy days. They made her tired and irritable. Always had, always will.
If she had her way, she would close up shop the moment the asphalt darkened.
Unfortunately, rainy days were great for business, people would be more than happy to ward off the chill with a warm pastry, to enjoy the natural heat that radiated from the ovens no matter how much AC they blasted.
They were also basically every day in Gotham.
At this rate, she would retire early. Which would be great. Maybe she could retire somewhere where it didn’t rain as much.
In order to do that, though, she should probably get back to work soon. Adrien, while good at the customer service part of things, wasn’t all that great at the actual baking part of working at a bakery, and they had been getting dangerously low on low-price items. She glanced back through the window, at people casually chatting and eating, then at Adrien, manning the register.
He caught her gaze and sent her a mildly exasperated look. She checked the time. They would be closing up soon, and they had… well, it would be tight, but it definitely wasn’t worth making another batch this late in the day.
Which meant that her job for the day was pretty much done.
She could see the exact second he realized this, too. His shoulders slumped in defeat.
But this was quickly wiped away in favor of his best smile because a customer had finished their brownie and was in dire need of another.
She snickered to herself, mentally promising to make a quick batch of passionfruit macarons as an apology as she went back to glaring at her mortal enemy: the weather.
But then unexpected movement out of the corner of her eyes drew her attention.
It was the flower shop a few places down. The woman that ran it was quietly gathering the displays she had left out, looking just as annoyed by the rain as Marinette. But probably for a better reason, seeing as the water could easily mess up her displays and deter people from buying from her.
Still, Marinette felt a kinship with the woman.
Maybe that was why she offered to help her take the boxes of flowers in.
The woman  – ‘Cass’, according to the sign above the door declaring this her flower shop – looked mildly confused for a moment. She looked at the box of flowers in her hands, briefly, as if processing the idea, and then eyed Marinette up and down. She hesitated, before sending a tiny, grateful smile and nodding.
Marinette helped gather boxes and take them inside. It was slow moving, since Marinette didn’t want to risk accidentally ruining any of the flowers (she wasn’t sure whether they would ‘expire’ at the end of the day like the goods her bakery sold, but she wasn’t going to risk it in case they wouldn’t), and the woman didn’t seem to be in any particular hurry. The store was cold, especially in comparison to Marinette’s bakery, but that probably wasn’t helped by the fact that neither of them were particularly dry. It was silent, save for the rain outside, and though she remembered being told once that Cass was mute and that that was the reason for the woman’s quietness, she couldn’t help but feel that it was a little awkward to work in silence like that.
So, she filled the silence. Talking about how this one movie from the other day had been painfully boring and that she needed to avoid it at all costs, if only for the sake of her own sanity. Rambling on and on about all of the different times that Adrien (her roommate, who she could not stress enough was her roommate, and by the way he was just a roommate) had nearly killed both of them trying to cook, whether that be by exploding a microwave or by poisoning them. Running down her to dos for the next few days and mentioning that she needed to buy more flour for the shop. And then, when Cass had sent her a mildly amused look, said flour not flower. Then she decided that, actually, maybe her shop could do with a couple of flowers, a pop of color could do them nicely, but they would have to be scentless, or the entire eating experience would be ruined. Cass had looked confused, so she had had to quickly explain that taste is actually largely based on smell, and sometimes smell can rub off on foods, so people who serve food are actually required to ensure that they never smelled too much – whether good or bad.
She was… definitely talking the woman’s ear off, but she didn’t seem to actually mind all that much, smiling faintly.
At least until Marinette was done helping her.
But, when Marinette made a move to leave, she held up her hands, briefly holding up a finger in the near-universal ‘one second’ gesture.
Marinette watched as the woman flitted about her shop, her lips pursed in thought, a tiny wrinkle between her brows, her cheeks puffed out the slightest bit. She was… extremely expressive. Marinette figured that was probably because she almost definitely used sign language, which Marinette admittedly didn’t know too much about, but she knew that a lot of meaning in sign language was conveyed not actually through the signs themselves, but instead facial expressions. Or, at least, that was what she had guessed by the few interactions with deaf customers she’d had – Adrien was the polyglot, not her.
Either way, the expression was kind of cute.
It was, perhaps, because of that particular line of thought that it took her longer than it should have to realize what was going on. It wasn’t until she saw the woman start arranging the flowers into a careful bouquet that she realized what, exactly, was going on. Marinette’s eyes widened. She did not know that much about plants, save for the edible ones, but she knew enough to know that bouquets were probably expensive.
“I don’t – here, let me run back to my shop and get some money.”
She shook her head and paused briefly, if only to pull a pad of paper out from behind the desk and start writing.
They are to thank you. If you pay for it, I’ll have to thank you again.
Marinette smiled bemusedly. “What a tragedy that would be, getting a bunch of flowers from a pretty lady.”
Cass sent her a look that was surely meant to be stern, but there was amusement crinkling the corners of her eyes.
The paper crinkled in that same gentle way as she tied off the ribbon and offered it to her.
She hesitated, before carefully taking it into her hands. The bouquet certainly smelled floral, but not to the point where it was overwhelming, though that was hardly what most people focus on. Still, it was nice that Cass had taken that into consideration.
As for the flowers themselves… the bouquet was made up of vibrant yellows and soft whites. Marinette tried to pick out what any of them might be. She thought that a couple of them could have been daisies, but don’t quote her on that.
“I’m guessing that all of these have hyper specific meanings?”
Cass nodded, giving her a briefly amused look before starting to write them out. Then, she scribbled over the words and wrote something else. Unfortunately for her, Marinette was nosy, and therefore she squinted long and hard at the section that had been crossed out to try and decipher what she’d originally been trying to say:
Agrimony means gratefulness. White carnations and yellow daisies are about how you’re really sweet and I want you to be happy. Mayflower and Queen Anne’s Lace together usually convey a sense of ‘welcome to my place’.
Basically, I’m really thankful.
Marinette’s eyes widened. She looked down at all of the different flowers. She had been mostly joking about the flowers all having some sort of secret code – she’d heard of flower language, of course, vaguely, in passing – but that was… a lot. It was interesting, knowing how much thought could go into all of the different parts of a bouquet, how it all came together to convey a specific feeling. She wondered if adding or taking away a single flower could change the meaning entirely.
She sent Cass a hesitant smile. “Don’t know how you can keep up with all of that.”
Cass rolled her eyes, waving her compliment off easily.
I don’t know how you can make all of those sweets in time for the breakfast rush.
Marinette felt a faint blush creep across her cheeks. “Well, first, you have to wake up super early.”
Cass looked as if she would rather die. Marinette couldn’t help but laugh at the way her entire face scrunched up in disgust at the mere idea of waking up early.
She could only shrug. “The struggles of a small business owner.”
Tell me about it, Cass wrote, before leaning back against the desk heavily, as if even the memory of work was enough to make her feel faint.
Marinette giggled. “I’d love to, but we should probably get back to our jobs as small business owners and all.”
Cass gave a clearly overexaggerated pout (Marinette wasn’t sure quite how to explain how she knew that this particular overexaggerated expression was more for the sake of a joke than the overexaggerated expressions the woman always did, but there was a definite difference), and Marinette could only laugh and lift her hand in a lazy kind of wave as she headed to the door.
A hand caught her sleeve before she could reach the door, and Marinette wouldn’t even pretend in the privacy of her own head that the reason she was hesitating was just because she didn’t yet want to brave the rain.
The woman hesitated, before offering her another flower. It did not quite go with the bouquet – where the bouquet was white and yellow, this flower was white and pink. Still, it was pretty. And, for the first time, as she gently took it into her free hand and started looking it over, she was pretty sure she recognized them.
“Almonds?” she said.
Cass’s eyes gleamed. She nodded eagerly.
Marinette couldn’t help but giggle at the woman’s excitement. “What do they mean?”
She had her trusty notepad on her. But she hesitated this time, her pen hovering over the page.
“Oh, don’t tell me you forgot,” Marinette teased.
Cass’s lips twitched upwards in amusement.
Finally, she started writing.
Help me pack up the next time it rains, and I will tell you. Promise.
Marinette could look it up, of course. It was the modern age. Phones exist and, if she really wanted, it wouldn’t be that difficult to check the moment she left. And she was pretty sure the woman knew that, too, since Marinette had already told her that she was well aware of what flower this was. It wouldn’t be hard to look it up.
The choice was hers.
She smiled faintly, soft petals coming to rest against her lips when she pretended to tap her chin thoughtfully. As if she would ever actually need time to consider her options.
“Promise,” she agreed, quietly wondering if she might have to reassess her hatred of rainy days.
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mcgomega · 7 months
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Young Heroes Support Group AU (Part 3)
[the DP X DC + Secret Quartet + Nicktoons Unite "A Glitch in Time" compliant AU]
Part 1 Part 2
The poll is over, the name of the AU is decided. Thank you everyone for voting! I think it fits perfectly. The abbreviation also sounds cool - UHSG AU.
Anyways, here's more info:
Everyone's ages at the moment of Danny's "Accident":
Danny, Sam, Tucker - 14
Jazz - 18
Jack, Maddie, Vlad - 43
Timmy - 10
Jimmy - 11
Spongebob - 21
Jake, Randy, Adrien, Marinette - 14
Bruce - 45 
Barbara - 29 
Dick, Lance - 25 
Jason, Roy, Bizarro, Artemis - 20 
Kon - 19
Tim, Steph, Cass, Duke, Bart, Cassie - 18 
Billie - 12
Damian, Jon - 10
Terrie - 4
Matt - 0
Jazz arrives in Gotham:
Danny, Sam, Tucker - 16
Jazz - 20
Jack, Maddie, Vlad - 45
Timmy - 12
Jimmy - 13
Spongebob - 23
Jake, Randy, Adrien, Marinette - 16
Bruce - 47 
Barbara - 31 
Dick, Lance - 27 
Jason, Roy, Bizarro, Artemis - 22 
Kon - 21
Tim, Steph, Cass, Duke, Bart, Cassie - 20 
Billie - 14
Damian, Jon - 12
Terrie - 6
Matt 2
And Fentons arrive a year after that.
Here's also the aproximate timeline of the DP series as I see it. Was really hard to make (I will accept your suggestions for change):
Danny's death - August 6th
Episode 1 - September 1st
Episodes 2-12 - September - October
Episode 13/Fright Night appearance/Halloween - October 31st
Episodes 14-20 - Early November
Maddie's birthday - November 8
Episodes 21-23 - Middle November
Episodes 24 - 26 Late November
Episodes 27 - 29 - Early December
Sam's birthday - December 17
Episode 30/Christmas - December 24th
Episodes 31-35 - January
Jack's Birthday - January 5th
Episode 36
Vlad's birthday - January 20
Dani's birthday - February 5
Danny's birthday - February 12
Episode 37
Jazz's birthday - March 14
Tucker's birthday - April 15
Episodes 39-40/Reality Trip - June 1st
Episodes 41-51 - September - Early December
Another thing I would like to elaborate on - pairings. Or more specifically policules. There will be a lot of policules with lots of characters. On those I will NOT be accepting criticism. I ship who I ship - deal with it. (I may accept new ships tho. Or even adding one or two more people into existing policule, who knows. Depends on how well it's presented to me) Anyway:
SuperWonderBat (Clark x Diana X Bruce) - Started as coworkers that got intimate. Clark is the bottom! That is not up to debate!
SuperBatCatLane (Clark x Bruce x Selina x Lois) - more intimate and touchy than SuperWonderBat. Sorta friends with benefits, but there's also some deep rooted feelings for everyone involved. Based on mutual understanding, respect and just... tenderness that only the world's finest' and their partners experience for each other.
DemonBatCat (Talia x Bruce x Selina) - Now we get into the sorta toxic territory. Talia hurt Bruce, lied to him, kept their child a secret for him, naturally he's pissed at her. But he still has some feelings for her and he can't get rid of them, no matter how deep he can bury them. And when Selina unearthed those feelings, she wanted to help those two idiots reconnect. Maybe even get Talia out of her complicated situation so that she can join their dysfunctional family. Because it would mean the world for both Bruce and Damian - her favorite little kitten.
DickKori - Do I even need to explain myself? I do find it funny how, during Teen Titans, Dick acted all angsty and edgy only to later become the pun-loving fun guy as Nightwing. I do believe that his time with the Titans helped him loosen up and embrace his humorous side that he had to bury after the death of his parents. Maybe Kori was the major factor in his transformation/rebirth.
TimBerKon (Tim x Bernard x Kon) - TimKon is hot, TimBer is cute, so I just combined them! There's no splitting them.
Anger Management (Jason x Jazz) - these two are the primary reason for the creation of this AU. I feel in love with them, they live rent free in my head! But there's also a possible addition...
Jaybird and Redheads (Jason x Artemis x Roy) - the working title for this policule for now. They're precious, I simply cannot separate them! Might be a pre-existing relationship until Jazz moved into Gotham. Maybe it was even Artemis who told Jason that she wouldn't mind if he started dating a normal girl (as long as she was allowed to share).
DamiJonJay (Damian x Jonathan x Jay) - similar as TimBerKon, only both DamiJon and JonJay are cute, just in different senses. And it will come into power later as they get older. Around their teens with DamiJon and as young adults with JonJay.
DemonBirds + BBRae (Damian x Raven x Garfield (BeastBoy)) - I am still brainstorming on how to make it work, but it involves reincarnation with some time and soul manipulation. And I need to figure out was was the Titans roster at specific moments of time. God knows the comics will never give me a concrete answer with those never ending retcons.
GraveBird (Damian x Nika (Flatline)) - I have just recently discovered this ship and immediately fell in love! Needless to day, like father like son, Damian continues the playboy tradition, whether he wants it or not.
Everlasting Trio (Danny x Sam x Tucker) - The way I see it, it started with Danny and Sam "officially" getting together, but still taking Tucker along on most of their days, even when Tucker himself wanted to give them more space to each other. Until one day he suddenly realised "Wait a minute, did you two just made me part of a policule?" And Danny and Sam were like "Duh? Took you long enough to figure that out." After an emotional breakdown, Tucker finally accepted his fate, much to Danny and Sam's amusement.
Post-reveal Miraculous Square (Adrien x Marinette) - again, do I need to explain myself here?
JimmyTimmy - I do love the smartass x dumbass dynamic. Especially when you can argue which is the dumbass one XD. Theirs is like enemies to rivals to friends to lovers. But lovers only came later, once their young adults. Until then they will vehemently deny their crush for the other, despite everyone else seeing them pine for each other. Damian specifically collects blackmail material of them being idiots in love.
Oh! I almost forgot to add one very important detail! Danny is TRANS in this AU. I've been thinking long and hard about doing this but now I've finally embraced it!
I am open to suggestions about everyone else's sexualities and gender identities. Feel free to comment.
That's it for now.
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maribat-media · 2 months
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have a fun question because there's so much maribat meanness on my dash right now fr i wish people would just be decent. what are some of your favorite rarepairs? what about polyships?
Slowly reaches for list
In no particular order
Damian x Chloe
Jason x Luka
Jason x Luka x Roy
Alfred x Gina
Damian x Luka x Marinette
Roy x Adrien
Bart x Adrien
Kon x Adrien
Damian x Juleka
Tim x Fei
Dick x Felix
Steph x Marinette x Cass
Harley x Ivy x Selina x Marinette
Just to name a few, and there are some hidden gems out there to be discovered.
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cyperhera · 9 months
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MLB X DC | misunderstands, fake confession
Exhausted after a late night, marinette accidentally sends a confession note from her unpublished novel to her crush who surprisingly accepts it.
Cass, who knew marinette had feelings for her but was scared to act on her knowledge because of her vigilante life, saw the note and decided to push away her fears and accept the confession.
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youtube
Saw an animation on Tik-Tok and I knew what I had to do... it was Adrienette in it's purest form <33 And yes, these are the same models I used for the @buggachat video, that is why they are purple and Adrien still isn't wearing any pants. But hey, all the more reason for Marinette to panic. OG vid credit to Alec Lang on Youtube and Tik-Tok!
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ggomos-maribat · 2 years
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[12/?]
original prompt | complete masterlist
Before the next family game night starts, Marinette strolls into the room carrying gift bags of different sizes. She greets the three early occupants inside.
"What are those?" Stephanie cranes her neck to get a better look.
"I had extra time so I decided to make these." Marinette let Duke help her setting the bags down at the foot of the couch. Cass peeks into one of the bags curiously.
"Vigilante-themed gifts." Marinette beams. "Since everyone's been so excited talking about their favorite vigilantes lately."
Stephanie laughs nervously. "Yeah, excited."
Marinette digs into a bright purple bag, fishing out a custom-made purse that's an obvious nod to Spoiler's theme. Steph gasps and gives her a bone-crushing hug.
The other gifts follow. She made a baggy graphic tee with an intricate artwork of Orphan for Cass. For Duke, she painted a pair of white Nikes to depict the Signal's colors.
"What did you get the others?" Duke asks, holding his shoes to his chest.
Marinette smirks. "You'll see."
---
The boys are quick to ask for their gifts when they arrived for game night. Dick receives a special lucky charm from her, which has a tiny trapeze trinket and a Nightwing bead.
"Extra luck when you need it," Marinette says to him. Dick wears it around his wrist immediately, swearing to keep it safe.
Jason's gift is the most intricate: an embroidered and studded leather jacket with Red Hood designs at the back and around the sleeves.
"Maybe Red Hood will like it if you ever meet him in person." Marinette steps back after confirming that it's a snug fit.
Jason clears his throat, choking up. "Ye--yeah he'll love this."
For Tim, she has crocheted two small ducks, one dressed as Red Robin and another as Tim in his office suit. Tim the Duck even has a coffee mug on its back. Marinette added metal rings so they double as keychains.
"My babies." Tim nods his approval and tucks them in his hoodie pocket.
----
Damian is the last one to receive his gift.
Marinette gently pulls out a picture frame from a box. "I didn't actually make this one," she explains, "but I got it commissioned instead. Since you have a massive crush on Robin---"
"---a what---"
"I had it made to suit your taste!"
She presents it to her brother: on the frame is a semi-realistic painting of Damian and Robin, where the latter is carried bridal style in the former's arms. Their gazes are locked in a romantic haze.
Marinette bounces on her heels. "And if you take the picture out there's a reader x Robin fanfiction at the back! Don't worry, it's a G.N. reader."
Damian stares down at the picture, speechless.
Her face falls. "Don't you like it?"
"I---I appreciate it," he manages to utter behind gritted teeth.
"I'm glad!" She nudges him on the side teasingly. "Don't be too embarrassed, Dames. It's okay to have a crush. You two look great together!"
Taglist:
@tinybrie @sinoffalsejudgement @its-maemain @kamarallil @toughluna @golden-promises @whatamoodhoney @trippingovermyfeet @m4ster0fnone @alexizlazy @plz-excuse-my-inner-gay @maybeanalien0-0 @imchaotic-dontmindme @ev-cupcake @flowers-n-fandoms @crusherccme @ji-nk-ies
*if you want to be tagged, feel free to ask in the comments and I'll add you to the taglist :)
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