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scribble-blog · 4 years

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Black Cats and Robinettes- a Role Reversal AU

Thanks @silverwhiteraven for giving me such a lovely prompt to work with!!! Find it here if you’d like to take your own stab at it!

Some side notes: In this AU I picture Adrien as our wonderful spotted hero! With Damian as our wonderful Black Cat. Chloé absolutely has the Bee Miraculous a la Adrien, but never exposed her identity (somehow) and fights beside them regularly. Marinette is the biological daughter of Bruce, and has been raised by him since she was a baby! Dick is very protective of her, as are Bruce, Alfred, Jason, Steph, Babs, Tim, Cass, etc, etc... how she functions as Robin when none of them want her near crime is hilarious I bet. (We all know she’s got a will of titanium and none of them can stop her from doing anything she wants to.)

Damian stared coldly around the room, watching as Césaire fawned around Rossi like cheap desperate paparazzi to a B list movie star. While Chloé and Adrien kept to themselves, icy facades disdainful, the stumbling pack of idiots they had been forced to travel with seemed to orbit her as always, presenting themselves for her approval as she spun low after lie.

He’d tried, long before, back when the Liar had only just started at their school, to show them the truth. A common courtesy, as no hero should let people be swindled they way she got them- but as soon as they made it clear they preferred to follow her blindly instead of believing the facts he presented, he’d let them go.

How Rossi has managed, with her mean intellect, to actually secure them the trip to Gotham he would never understand. Presumably, the entirety of the actual work rested on the shoulders of Césaire, Lavillant, and possibly Lahiffe, but he had no intention of asking to find out.

Truly, he’d had no intention of being on the trip at all, but Sabine and Tom has insisted that he join the school trip and spend time with his peers.

They’d been the best things to ever happen to him, when they’d adopted him six years ago. It was difficult now to tell them no for anything.

No, Damian Dupain-Cheng would never deny them anything they asked of him. When Talia had realized her... partner had lost the Black Cat Miraculous she had hoped he would pass on to their son, to him, she’d killed him for the slight and left Damian in the nearest city. Apparently, his genes were too “sullied” for him to actually bear the weight of being Ra’s al Ghul’s heir, without the promise of the powerful object falling into the League’s lap. It was her last gift to her son that she let him live.

They’d found him his very first day. Sabine’s sharp eyes had noticed him picking the pocket of a woman outside her storefront, and when he’d tried to retaliate when she grabbed him-

Well. She’d won his respect, and some of his fear. And they’d put him in the bedroom at the top of their home, and somehow...

He’d never left. And he’d gotten the last laugh against his mother for it, when Master Fu had chosen him for the very Miraculous Talia had conceived him for.

He shook his heads away front the thoughts as their tour guides, he assumed, approached. Surely it was them, because every other person in this lobby had been studiously avoiding the group. He heard Rossi mention her ‘best friend’ Maria Wayne one more time and resisted laughter. She couldn’t even get the girl’s damn name right.

“Welcome to Wayne Enterprises, everyone,” the taller guide said, gesturing openly for them all to gather up. “My name is Richard. Together with Marinette, one of our interns, we’ll be guiding your tour today.”

He motioned to the much shorter girl, who appeared to be their age. Damian gazed curiously, watching as she flinched away slightly from their focus before stilling, and then looking up, proudly, an easy smile on her face. Her blue eyes practically sparkled.

“It’s a pleasure to be able to join you today,” She said in perfect French, and Damian felt gleeful as her eyes darted towards Rossi with the slightest visible distaste. “Richard can understand French, but doesn’t speak it quite as well, so I am here to act as a translator when needed. I believe the notes for your group mentioned that some of you are not yet fluent in English. I will be available during the tour for any possible questions you have that aren’t as easy to articulate in English.”

Her eyes finally met Damian’s in her final sweep, and he tried not to let his breath catch. She was pretty, yes, but the force of her gaze was intense and it made Damian’s heartbeat stutter. Fuck.

Richard stepped forward again. “Alright. If you all have your guest passes-“

The tour was fun and genuinely engaging, though he noticed several people uncomprehending as they couldn’t quite catch Richard’s words, and no one had been brave enough to speak to Marinette except for Chloé. She’d asked several times for the girl to clarify a point in French.

Which the girl did, cheerfully. It was always some part of information that sat on the edges of Rossi’s many lies, nothing to call her out entirely but enough that the Liar was spending whatever seconds she wasn’t panting after Richard she was glaring at Chloé and Marinette indiscriminately.

They stopped for lunch at the building’s cafeteria, and Damian quickly got his own food, sat down and Chloé and Adrien joined him. They weren’t quite friends- but they kept together in solidarity against the rabid pack. The silence as the age was as normal as the court Rossi held over at the table she’d chosen.

And then another tray joined them.

“So,” Marinette said in beside him. “I had a question for you three, since you seem- sharper than most of your classmates. Does she always-“ she gestured one hand loosely towards Rossi. “Do that?”

“Lie like her life depends on it?” Chloé sneered. “Sadly, yes.”

Marinette looked out over at the full table, growing rambunctious as Lila laughed at something or other. “Hmm. Well. Perhaps I can put an end to it. Also,” she reached across the table, the motion surprising Damian. “Why didn’t you tel me you two would be here! I could’ve made plans! You could’ve stayed with me instead of whatever hotel you guys had to rent out 15 rooms for.”

Adrien chuckled, meeting his eyes. “Damian, let me actually introduce you. This is Marinette Wayne, who we’ve been friends with since every fashion week since our parents first started dragging us to them.”

Marinette- Marinette Wayne looked at him, and then blushed as she offered her hand to him. He took it, shook once. “Damian Dupain-Cheng.” He hoped his heart wasn’t beating out of his chest.

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Damian,” she said kindly, and he knew he had a crush. Her eyes darkened and a grin stole across her face. “How would you like to help me prove to the people in your class that that girl is lying once and for all?”

And he knew he was in love.

TAGLIST: @ash-amg

#maribat #daminette #daminette role reversal #fanfic #prompt fill #contest winner #lila salt #minor class salt

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immoralrpg-blog · 7 years

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Congratulations, KYRA, you have been accepted for the role of AMYCUS CARROW, with the faceclaim of MATTHEW DADDARIO. 'Baby, he is mayhem in human form’ --- a stunning line, and a perfect fit for Amycus! Amycus’ self-destructive nature and his love for Alecto are things that shouldn’t really go hand-in-hand, and yet somehow, they do. Your focus on the extra things - like his talent for piano or his other little quirks - is what truly made him stand out in the end. Please head along to the CHECKLIST for your next steps.

CHARACTER NAME: Amycus Nero Carrow.

Amycus ;; In Greek the meaning is “friendly”. Quite an apparent contradiction to him.

Nero ;; An ancient Sabine name that meant, “strong and energetic”. In Latin, “black”.

Carrow ;; It is derived from the old English word ‘carr’, meaning “rock”, and a word of Celtic origin; ‘hoh’, meaning “spur of the hill”.

GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cismale. He/Him. FACECLAIM:

Matthew Daddario.

Douglas Booth

Jack Falahee

BIOGRAPHY:

TW: SLIGHT ABUSE MENTIONING; SELF DESTRUCTION

Amycus Carrow, distant and unsalvageable. He who is drunk on the great, devastating void. He who has become a part of the abyss; devoting oneself to playing the role of the destroyer. Baby, he is mayhem in human form. You knew long ago you should have walked away when he was headed your way. And yet, this monster was once a boy. That unresponsive heart of his once had a strong pulse.

Born into the Carrow line, seconds before his twin sister, Alecto, the title of heir hung over his head like an axe just waiting to come down. He was first; baring the weight of expectations and facing the harsh responses to failure. Despite this, he bloomed in the midst of darkness. He gladly accepted each challenge and flourished because of it. There wasn’t a trial he couldn’t overcome. There wasn’t a test he finished without perfect marks. He was a Carrow, after all. And Carrow’s were conquerors. They would swallow their own blood before they swallowed their pride. They would raise hell for one another before anyone dared to harm them.

Thus, there is a reason only one name has ever been scrawled upon his heart. One person. One reason his acute loss of feeling hasn’t completely vanished. Alecto. His sister, his blood, and his other half. His love for his sister is insurmountable. He may fight, curse, and often wish to extract her tongue from her body - but, he still doted on her. There was never any question of if he would ruin another person for hurting her. It was only a matter of when would he. Amycus knows she can handle herself, but he does not tolerate any harm to those of his blood.

Or maybe he should say he use to not tolerate it. It is difficult to muster up an ounce of attentiveness when his brain is shot and words slurred. If he just put the bottle down for one second he might see the fire blazing all around his mesomorphic frame. It’s a shame those perfect marks and dashing smiles couldn’t save him. It is far too late now, though. They long ago destroyed the boy in him. His parents could have held their tongues, or their fist. But, they didn’t. And his heart became polluted with bitterness; chains shackling him to that one emotion. No longer did he flinch, grovel, or take rage out on himself. He stopped doing what was asked or following every rule, and just drank bottles dry at every pureblood party he attended. He stopped living by the rules and started living for the risks.

Somewhere along the way he lost himself. He crumbled into nothingness only to rebuild himself in the image of something monstrous. But, my god, was he still good at playing human. It is so easy to forget every horrible thing he has done with his tongue across your skin, his words etched into your heart. He speaks inhumanly pleasurable things only to rip your still beating heart out of your chest. Looks like he isn’t playing the role of destroyer anymore, darling. He stopped playing awhile ago. Now he has become the destroyer; and it only took destroying himself to get here.

QUESTIONAIRE

describe your secret in your own way.

“ Secret. What secret? ” He laughs, the sound piercing the air sharper than a chill upon exposed skin. “ Do you think any of us have secrets? Because I think that just being alive means we don’t have any. In this society, we are all under a microscope and exposed. ” A pause. Amycus straightens his spine as clipped fingernails scrapped against the wood of his wand. “ Secrets are only secrets if somebody is dead. ”

The question is, who would he have to silence to keep his? He checks himself. Swallowing hard and looking away. Only one person knew how deep his trouble ran and she wouldn’t breathe a word of it. Yet. Part of him worries that it’ll only be a matter of time before she gives up hope, too. Fuck. Did he really just think that as an actual possibility? Never. It was just a couple drinks every now and then. He’s allowed that. No, he is owed that.

When his eyes find theirs again, he’s calm.

your family life. how’s it like?

“ Fuck man. How about personal. Does that describe it well enough for you? ” He snaps. Something flickers across his face, possibly pain, but it disappears as he tilts his head back, eyes look fixedly at the ceiling. For long moments, he stares at the ceiling, something burning inside him. If there was anything to say, it would never come from him.

pick one word to describe yourself. why that word?

“ Conqueror, ” he cuts in, a small curve lifting the side of his lip. There is no hesitation. He knows who he is. Empty liquor bottles may litter the floor, the faint stench on his breath. But, that doesn’t erase his blood. It vilifies him, yes. His parents would be in a frenzy and the Ministry indignant over him. None would remove his title, though. Lest they try and be met with bruised, cracked knuckles meeting flesh. A rampage bursting forth from him that they would soon wish they hadn’t set into motion. His voice inches louder, “ I’ll always be known as a conqueror. It’s in my blood. ” It’s spoken with such breathtaking surety. Why does it taste like a lie upon his tongue then?

what side are you on? order of the phoenix? death eaters? neutral? why?

He remains expressionless. His eyes contemplatively look at them, making them squirm a bit under scrutiny. He thought of how quickly he could force a frisson of fear to travel down their body if he spoke openly, without distortion.

It appealed to him. Would their brow furrow further or would they go bug-eyed? No, some part of him knew their fury and fear would both be magnified. Once they heard a morsel of the gory details they’d pray they hadn’t. They don’t understand. None of them do. They point fingers at others and call them villains before ambling off to seek out another to condemn. What if he were to say neutral? Would they not just laugh in his face and call him a dirty, rotten liar? They already selected his side for him moments after being sorted into Slytherin.

Avoiding an answer, he never once breaks his gaze as he poses his own question. “ Why don’t you tell me? ”

what’s your boggart?

" Ah, wouldn’t everybody like to know that. ” He’s never thought about it. Somehow he already knows, in his bones, though. There’s a quiet knowledge and it lingers. Lingering when he goes to parties, when he drinks a little too much, or when silence seems to be the only thing between them anymore.

Alecto could leave him. She is here now, but for how long.

Already has laughter been replaced by brows knitted in a frown. He will plod down the hallways at home, swaying fiercely, while she merely huffs at him with disapproval. Day after day, he drinks, and he drinks, attempts at stitching himself up. And he no longer opens up. So, at least, he knows it will be his fault when she stops covering up his late nights.

Still, his form begins to hunch forward, only slightly, as well as the tiniest droop of his head. God, he can be such a damn coward. All these minuscule withdrawals and distance - it’ll give him plenty of solitude soon enough, whether wanted or not. And it’s a paralyzing thought. Because, honestly, he doesn’t know what the fuck is wrong with him. Sure, it is easy to blame his upbringing and the alcohol. If that was it, though, then why couldn’t it be fixed by Alecto, Regulus, or even Petunia. Why did he still feel this need?

Forking his fingers through his hair for the third time, his leg bounces ferociously beneath the table. “ Uptight people. I mean, really, some of you need to learn how to let loose. ” He laughs. It’s a soft, choked sound. He doesn’t expect them to believe him. Even he doesn’t believe himself. He only leaves it at that.

Deep down, buried beneath layers of built up indifference, a voice screams at him to say it. Once. Just once. Even if it is only for yourself. Abandonment.

He doesn’t. Rather, he gets up from his seat, stretching extravagantly and yawning, eyes never meeting the others again. “ So, we’re done here. ” He states with no room for argument. Pausing only a second, as if waiting for them to challenge him, before taking long-legged strides out of the room.

#accepted #amycus carrow

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