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ggomos-maribat · 2 years

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[55/?]

original prompt | complete masterlist

Thank you to @tinybrie for the idea!

Since the big revelation and confrontation, Ladybug has been invited more frequently to JL meetings. Marinette and Bruce are well aware of this change. The rest of the League, however, are still in the dark about what happened. The heroes only assume Batman had softened towards the Parisian heroine.

One day, Ladybug decides to take advantage of the situation.

Batman is giving his report and updates when she pulls out an entire bowl of cereal to munch on. Superman gives a dubious look. Wonder Woman pales. Green Lantern is ready to have a heart attack. Ladybug pays them no mind and starts eating the cereal.

Flash looks back and forth between Batman and Ladybug, seemingly expecting the former to lash out and yell at the latter.

But nothing happens. Batman continues his presentation. Ladybug continues her mid-meeting snack-fest.

Then she ups the ante. She starts chewing loudly while consistently maintaining eye contact with the Big Bat. This time, Batman pauses to look back at her.

And Ladybug knows. She knows what the other League members expect. They expect a war. A full-on match. A head-to-head. The vigilante throwing his Batarangs while Ladybug attacks with her yoyo. The tick on Batman’s jaw or his passive-aggressive tone.

None of that happens.

“Ladybug.” Batman’s voice is soft. “Can you eat quietly?”

Aquaman’s jaw drops. Black Canary gasps. Ladybug hides her smirk. ‘Can you eat quietly?’ Not even a ‘put that away’ or ‘please leave’ or ‘be quiet’. Batman is in his father mode and Ladybug can’t enjoy it more.

“Sorry,” she says unapologetically and continues eating.

—

She strikes again in the next meeting.

“Batman, why don’t you remove your cowl?” she says out of the blue.

Heads turn towards Batman, who grunts. “I’d rather not.”

Ladybug’s smile turns sickly sweet. She knows what’s under that cowl, since she became a witness to the diabolical plan of Timothy Jackson Drake and Jason Peter Todd. She will not stop until she unveils the monstrosity.

Meanwhile, the League members present are astounded by her audacity.

“I thought you trusted the whole League with your identity already.” She examines her (gloved) fingernails casually.

“Yes, but not you,” Batman mumbles as a futile defense.

She grins. “What do you mean? You told me last week! The cowl, pretty please?”

The universe knows Batman will never deny his dear daughter of anything. Grumbling under his breath, he pulls down his cowl to reveal his bright pink hair littered with sparkly glitter.

The League is silent after choking on split-second laughs. No one tries to make a sound. They’re too afraid. Too afraid of both Ladybug and Batman.

Batman continues his report with his cowl removed. Ladybug leans back, giggling and listening.

Taglist:

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#maribat #maribat fanfic #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #maribat marinette dupain cheng #fox dcw #bio dad bruce wayne #maribat batfam

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lex-munro · 1 year

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[Suicide Squad Scrap] Princess pt. 17

self-indulgent batjokes-flavored SS/BvS/JL, installment 17. by this point, Ratcatcher has accepted Joker’s somewhat ambiguous gender identity and has decided they are platonic galpals. chapter contains a barely-off-panel sex act. TW: dubious/coerced consent.

the piece as a whole is rated Mature for pervasive language, varying degrees of violence, use of controlled substances, sexual references, questionable ethics, and themes of mental illness. set from Flag’s POV, with references to Birds of Prey, but not compliant with The Suicide Squad.

p.s. i’ve loved pretty much every version of Mercy Graves. shoutout to underpaid henchwomen.

p.p.s. Mister J is genuinely more upset about his hair, just saying. that’s where the bad behavior is coming from.

***

~All right, I’ve tapped a line to the admin server, so we’ll be able to pull a prison census and a map, as well as maybe some easy admin overrides. Resuming my trip to the roof while Flag heads out to be Mister J’s backup.~

Flag sets about fully securing the unconscious guards.

~Overrides, eh?~ says Digger. ~Anything for the front door?~

~No, Goomba, I fucking told you the door control is on the naked-ass roof of this building, where I will probably get shot to death if somebody sees me. So! I’m at the door now, Mister J—give ‘em the old razzle-dazzle.~

~Probably gonna end up cuffed, so I’ll leave my comm open,~ Joker tells them. ~Here we go.~

A knock.

~Candygram!~

~Classic,~ Digger says with a chuckle.

A minor commotion.

~Four of you? I charge extra for gang bangs.~

~Shut the fuck up! Who are you? How did you get here?~

~Now, now, no call for such aggression.~

~ Got the door,~ says Ratcatcher.

~Heh, open sesa—FUCKING HELL! Jeezling Chrimbo holiday biscuit batter…~

“Report!” Flag snaps. He finishes tying the last guard and heads for the door.

~Fucking close call, is all,~ grumbles Digger. ~Doors started to close as soon as I crossed the threshold. Got one sleeve stuck and a very good boomerang at a very precise angle keeping the door from crushing half my torso and skull. Can’t even take a full breath. I am at your fuckin’ mercy, Arcee.~

~Some kinda failsafe—I’m on it, Dicker.~

~Handcuffs, oh my. That’s one of my kinks, boys. Ooh, and manhandling! Lucky me.~

Flag hits the door running. “Backup on the way, Jay!”

~Pretty mouth on you, princess. Whattaya say? Gonna be a good little freak for Daddy?~

~Oh, I’m definitely a freak~ the Joker says. ~But I’ve already got a Daddy. Still, I fancy myself a talented cocksucker, and I haven’t been face-fucked in ages, so if you’re volunteering…~

“Jay, you don’t have to go that far,” Flag pants, bursting into the lookout building.

~Speaking as the person most likely to be shot to death if these fuckers happen to look out the window at the wrong time, go as far as it fucking takes!~ Ratcatcher snaps.

~As the person currently one boomerang away from being a human crepe if she gets shot, I second the motion!~ adds Digger.

~Yeah, princess?~ the thug leader says, sounding too interested.

~You said I had a pretty mouth, didn’t ya? No gag reflex, either. Ah-ah!~ Joker scolds with a little growl. ~Hands off the ‘do. Only Daddy gets to touch my hair.~

~Yeah, we’ll see who’s your Daddy, sweetie…~

~Ick,~ says Ratcatcher. ~Men are so gross. I’m almost done, max three more minutes. Lie back and think of England. Or…I’unno, Gotham, I guess.~

(~You know, not all men are like that.~ ~Did you seriously just fucking ‘not all men’ me? Not all rats can chew your dick off in ten seconds or less—wanna chance that when I get down there?~)

Seven goddamn floors up, and the elevator has an ‘out of order’ sign hanging from it. “Piece of shit broken elevator,” Flag huffs, and bursts into the stairwell.

~Best three minutes of your life, coming right up,~ Joker purrs, followed by a long, loud slurp.

~I feel like there should be a word for turned on, grossed-out, and terrified on account of being on the verge of getting literally crushed to death all at the same time,~ Digger grunts. ~The stress will kill me if this damn thing don’t, Arcee, hurrythefuckup.~

~Eugh, think I’m gonna hurl,~ Ratcatcher groans over the loud noises of whichever-asshole-lookout having too much fun for a guy with metal teeth next to his junk.

~Almost to ya, Arcee,~ says Lawton. ~And then anybody looking out here ain’t gonna see shit but a bullet.~

Flag hears another wet sound and a drawn-out moan and runs harder.

~Heh, whatcha gonna do now you’re a sloppy mess, princess? Whatcha gonna tell your Daddy, huh? What now?~ And the guy laughs mockingly.

Joker spits (not in the guy’s face, from the lack of reaction, but it’d serve the fucker right).

~In position,~ hisses Lawton. ~Jay, you just say the word, and that piece of shit has frontal lobe air conditioning.~

~Hmmm, what now?~ Joker drawls with eerie calm. ~What’s your name, big guy?~

“Coming up the stairs,” says Flag. “Ready to breach on your signal.”

~Vince,~ the rapist says.

Joker makes an agreeable noise. ~Well, Vinnie, now you’re all mine. I’m gonna start by fuckin’ up your knee, and maybe breaking your nose. The guy by the window’s going down next, and one of the guys by the door. By then, I’ll be out of my cuffs, so I’ll drop Number Four with something heavy, like that lamp over there, probably before he can even raise his gun. Then me ‘n you are gonna have some quality time together, Vinnie.~

~You delusional f—~

There’s a couple of meaty crunching noises, then laughter and a bullet through the window, so Flag rams the door and clotheslines the guy right next to it.

Joker swings the floor lamp at the last guy, hitting him precisely in the temple and dropping him like a sack of potatoes.

One guy is still writhing on the ground: presumably Vince, and Flag is a hundred percent behind the idea of letting Joker do whatever the fuck he wants to the creep.

(~Got it!~ says Ratcatcher. And, ~About fuckin’ time,~ coughs Digger.)

Joker unfastens the second handcuff and lets it drop, then smoothes a hand over his curls (tangled and mussed from being pulled, and for some reason, the idea turns Flag’s stomach worse than the noises before). “Vinnie, Vinnie, Vinnie,” he tuts, then sighs. “You were doing so well. I like swallowing a little sausage now and then, but ya got greedy.”

~Anybody recording for posterity?~ Ratcatcher asks with a dark chuckle.

~I got you covered, Jay,~ Lawton says. ~He tries anything, he’s gone. You do whatever your bloodthirsty little heart desires, man.~

Joker flicks his butterfly knife out of his pocket and fidgets it open and shut a couple of times. “I toldya, Vinnie: only Daddy gets to touch my hair. But you just had to have a yank. If I hadn’t had such a good upbringing, I’d use this knife to do something real unladylike to ya,” he says, trailing the blade up the inside of Vince’s thigh. “Instead, I’m gonna do you a favor: I’m gonna make it so you can smiiiiile, ear to ear, every single day, happy as can be.”

Flag makes himself watch as Joker slides the knife in and jerks it back out twice to the sound of pained howls. There’s lipstick on the guy’s fly.

Joker purrs happily and puts his knife away. “Much better! Why so serious?” he asks, showing his three grinning tatts to the sobbing mess on the floor. Then he wipes his left hand across to reveal his hateful scowl, lipstick smearing in a false half-grin. “And the name’s Joker, you ungrateful fucking Philistine. Can’t anybody fucking read anymore?”

“You need anything else here, Jay?” Flag offers.

Instead of answering, the clown switches his comm back from open and sweeps out of the room. As he follows behind, Flag can see that Joker’s pants are riding lower than ever, showing an unfamiliar tattoo across his tailbone, just below the dimples.

“Is that seriously a tiny bat-shaped tramp stamp?” Flag asks.

Joker just flashes a wordless grin over his shoulder.

Lawton meets them out front with the coat Flag abandoned earlier, and he helps Joker into it without being asked.

~My buddies found Turner,~ Ratcatcher informs them. ~Yo, Dicker, you through yet?~

~Yeah. I’m looking at the main comms relay, which looks to have itemized camera feeds. Hold up, got a boomerang for this…~

The fire escape rattles, and Ratcatcher lands in a crouch beside them. “They said Croc’s near the bottom, and Turner’s one floor up. Thanks for keeping them off me Mister J—that was pretty boss of you.” The tablet beeps, and she starts poking through the cameras. “Good work, Human Crepe; I got visual on the target. Bronze Tiger, the fuck kinda codename is that? Sounds like a wrestling move…”

“Porn star,” Flag argues.

“Gaybar,” Joker asserts, to general agreement. “Fuck, now I wanna own a gaybar called Bronze Tiger…”

“Elevator shaft?” says Lawton.

“Natch. Not feeling energetic about ladders, though, so I vote for riding most of the way.”

“Arcee?” Flag prompts.

One of her ‘buddies’ climbs her and tells her something. “Yep, the cellar door here connects to the tunnels where Human Crepe is rollin’ up; auxiliary freight elevator there can take us all the way down.”

In they go, down rusted stairs and into echoing tunnels. A right turn, a left corner, a right corner, a pair of two-foot-thick thresholds that must’ve been the airlock that almost crushed Digger. He’s just unplugging a little pocket computer from the comms relay box as they approach.

Another fifty feet, and there it is, clearly labeled ‘Auxiliary Freight Elevator,’ like a plot device in a cartoon. Lawton helps Flag wrench open the rickety steel gate, and they’re on their way.

Ratcatcher starts humming Girl From Ipanema as they descend. Lawton joins in. And then Joker starts singing.

“And when she passes, I smile but she doesn’t see…”

“Doesn’t seeee,” Digger chimes in on cue.

Flag kind of hopes the elevator will crash and they’ll all die.

They peter off into blessed silence, and Flag has just enough time to breathe a sigh of relief.

“Fuck!” Joker yells, startling them.

“Jesus!” squawks Digger. “What?”

“I chipped a goddamn nail…should’ve cut Vinnie’s balls off after all.” Joker seethes for a moment, then reaches up to smooth down his hair again. “Is my hair okay, at least? Fuck, I feel ugly.”

“Aw, no, Mister J,” Ratcatcher tells him, daintily reaching up to fix a minor tangle. “You’re so pretty. Nobody else could pull off orange and purple like you do, ‘specially with green hair. The Bat would still totally swoon if he saw you right now, chipped nail and all.”

Joker settles a little. “I’m gonna shoot so many kneecaps when we get down there.”

“No, you’re not,” Flag admonishes. “We’re trying to be sneaky. No loud noises if we can avoid it.”

“Croc ain’t exactly subtle, either,” Digger says.

“Jones knows when to keep it low key.”

Lawton scoffs. “The James Brown suit he was rocking the other day would be evidence to the contrary.”

“Not everybody can pull off a cravat like that.”

“I’m not saying he didn’t make it work; it just wasn’t low key. Should maybe get Turner first. What was the security like, Arcee?”

“Huh? Kinda thin, but they don’t need numbers with those fancy LexCorp guns. You know those things got a puke setting? For ‘non-violent pacification.’ Yuck. Heard that Mercy bitch was around, too; some kinda inspection that’s got the wardens here piddling like puppies.”

Lawton hums thoughtfully. “Shitty tunnels with piped power, everybody on edge… Who’s up for a haunted house?”

Flag sees the shape of a plan. “We’ll stop early—Arcee will hit the lights while Jay plays diversion. Lawton pops ‘em quiet as a…well, mouse. If Luthor’s henchbitch is here, all the more reason to tread softly.”

Joker tilts his head. “Never had a chance to meet her. She’s that scary, huh?”

“She carries Kryptonite bullets and once beat the shit out of Deathstroke,” Flag explains.

“Hmmmm.”

“No. Whatever you just thought, no. I’m not explaining to the Bat how I let you get your ass handed to you by a megalomaniac’s sidekick. We’re doing the haunted house thing. You like scaring the piss outta people, right?”

So they take out the lights and go for Turner first, Joker humming a little tune and skipping through the shadows like something out of The Shining. The third guard they take down really does piss himself.

Nobody they take out has keys to the cells, which is very inconvenient. Joker dances his way down the corridors, spectral in the shitty chartreuse emergency backup lighting, and glues himself to a door.

“He still intact?” Flag asks, assuming it’s their target.

“Hm? Oh. Yep. Anybody got a set of lockpicks?”

“You don’t?” Lawton asks, brows high on his forehead.

“Nah. Always borrow ‘em.”

“Stand back, kids,” Ratcatcher says. She cracks her knuckles and pulls out a metal file and a dental scraper from her coat pockets.

“Where the hell—” Flag starts to ask. “Never mind, don’t wanna know.”

After about ninety seconds of little clicks and clinks and metallic scraping noises, the lock turns. “Lucky those fit,” she comments. “Real thing is a lot skinnier.”

Turner—codename Bronze Tiger—sits up with a yawn and says, “Do I know you?” He’s handcuffed and dressed in a plain blue jumpsuit.

“Nope,” says Flag. “You’re coming with us, though. Any idea where they put your claws?”

“Guard station, next corridor over. Little shits were playin’ with ‘em.”

“Arcee—”

“My buddies are already on it. We taking Deadweight to get Croc, or we splitting up?”

Turner puffs up angrily. “Deadweight my ass! Uncuff me, and—”

“Not gonna happen,” scoffs Flag. “Arcee, you ‘n Boomerang Boy take Gaybar back topside while me, Jay, and—where the hell’s Jay?”

They all look around, then look at Lawton.

“The hell y’all look at me for? I ain’t the man’s babysitter.”

Overhead, the intercom crackles to life.

~Paging Mmmiss Mercy Graves,~ Joker purrs. ~One of your wardens would like to register a complaint about his wwwork environment.~

~Please, please,~ somebody else simpers. ~Please, don’t kill me. W-what do you want? Why are you smiling like that? What are you—~ And the broadcast trails off into blood curdling screams that can’t quite drown out gleeful cackles.

“Oof, so much for low profile,” snorts Ratcatcher. A pair of rats bring her some wicked looking armored gloves.

“Fuck,” Flag grumbles. “Well, let’s go get the Twin Masters of Unsubtlety.”

They all pile back into the elevator (Digger shoves Turner along, probably mostly to use him as a human shield should the need arise) and ride it down one more floor.

Joker is unlocking a set of handcuffs from Croc’s wrists. Beside them, a motionless guard has had his shirt ripped open and the words ‘Joker was here’ cut into the skin of his torso. “Passed out partway through, real disappointing,” Joker says. “Hasn’t even lost that much blood…what a baby.”

“We need to leave before Graves finds us,” Flag says firmly.

“Rrrgh, you’re so boring!” growls Joker, metal teeth gleaming.

“You compromise this mission and you will absolutely not get a visit from Daddy,” Flag retorts.

Joker subsides to a pout and sulks his way onto the elevator.

Flag is dumb enough to think they’re fine now—that they’ve gotten away with it.

Then the cage of the elevator rises past some very serious stiletto heels and an equally serious sidearm, and Flag shoves their precious cargo behind Croc as he and Lawton open fire through the grating. Graves dodges while returning fire with something that melts red-hot holes into the floor and the rear wall of the elevator (“Shitshitshit!” “You’re on my fucking foot, Captain Bonobo!” “Singed my damn suit—now I’m mad.”). She empties the mag just as the elevator floor passes her head—she licks her middle finger and points with it.

“Got my eye on you, clown,” she calls after them.

“Try two; you’re a shit shot!” Joker retorts.

.End.

#fanfic #scraps #Suicide Squad #CANON DIVERGENCE #universe alteration #fic series: princess #tw: dubious consent

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