#mlxdc | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ive-tumbled-down-a-rabbit-hole · 1 year

Text

Ugly Mugs and Icy Dips

Part of the midnight snack series, set after Stress Baking but before/during All because of a cookie!!

Masterlist

......................................

The Ugly Mug Cafe is… not the prettiest of establishments. The chairs didn't match, the tables were wonky, but it held a warmth and homely feel which very rarely existed in Gotham, especially in the East End and this close to the Bowery.

It was run by a gruff ex-con Gothamite who took care of his city's people but was willing to let those smuggled or hiding in the Gotham gloom without the relevant papers work with minimal fuss, as long as they could use his dragon beast of a coffee machine he would happily have a blind eye. The staff ended up being mainly either fellow ex-cons or students, willing to work the unsociable hours that were required for opening early and closing late.

With it being owned by a hardy Gothmite that exuded malice towards anyone who stepped out of line and didn't abide by his rules and ran by bitter overworked students or limited break ex-criminals who held no humour for robbery attempts, the cafe ended up a fairly neutral ground. Fights, thefts and robberies were minimal and it helped that the coffee was good. Really good. The pastries and cakes were improving in quality. And had a quirky secret menu for those in desperate need of a caffeine fix and those loyal regulars who The Ugly Mug employees deemed worthy.

Despite all the rough and sharp edges the cafe held, students adored the place during finals week where the special coffee kept them going on all nighters. Commuters favoured the place as it helped soothe their frozen bitter souls as they moved from the rough outer city edges and went further in for work.

And Tim.

Tim- Red Robin had found the place after a particularly grueling patrol.

Patrol had ended up with all bats hands required at the docks to deal with Scarecrow and a shipment of chemicals. During the last part of the fight Red Robin had taken a plunge in the docks murky water and well, by the time he had managed to get back to land the fight had ended with him being cold wet, cold and extremely grumpy at all of it. All he really had wanted to do was to get out of his costume and soak in an over-heated bath with a giant, steaming cup of coffee, or tea, in that moment he wasn't fussy. As long as it was hot and caffeinated he'd make do.

Somehow, Tim had got slightly disoriented on the way past Jason's domain (he would completely blame the icy dip he'd taken and not the exhaustion) but had stumbled upon this golden cafe. He had stumbled in to meet a coffee angel sent by the gods. The dark haired heavenly woman took one look at his pathetic looking vigilante self and started moving around the counter working the coffee machine with precision.

The aromas that filled the small run down space enticed Tim further into the building. The coffee sprite placed a concoction that was more than just coffee in front of him in the most hideous cup he'd seen in a while as he dripped onto the tiled floor. It was in that first sip that Tim's world narrowed down to this establishment. It was his new home. The brew was his new fuel. His life source. The celestial being behind the bashed up counter was the cardinal of the coffee gods. He'd worship with her for more of the sweet bitter nectar that he held in his hands. The coffee was the most magical and revitalising drink off menu that Tim had ever been blessed with. This was HIS coffee haven. His safe space. His daily stop to make it through the day in both faces of his life.

From that moment on, Tim knew that he was going to be visiting this place regularly. He was going to get to know the coffee padre.

What Tim hadn't been aware of completely was that as he cherished the coffee before him the barista had disappeared, returned and mopped around the vigilante and could hear his whispers of love to the steaming drink. Her angelic laughter and mischievous smile drew him from the trance that he had entered.

"I would not say the coffee holds secrets to the universe Monsieur Red."

It wasn't good really to lose complete awareness without backup and all because of a hot drink in a grotesque ceramic vessel. A blush grew under the mask that Tim wore, hopefully hidden, but if not he'd blame the warmth of the establishment pushing the cold that ached in his bones away.

"I might disagree. This is amazing, I can feel its power tingling in my toes."

"That might be more to the fact you look like a drowned rat and are warming up rather than the coffee, non?"

"Nope. Definitely the coffee. Nothing to do with the dip I took in the harbour."

"The harbour?"

The woman raised her eyebrow, opening the sapphire eyes further, from behind the counter as she started to move about puzzling Tim.

"I… yeah… wouldn't recommend midnight swims in the harbour this time of year."

Snorting with a huffed amusement, a plate with a reheated pastry appeared before Tim as the woman returned to cleaning behind the counter.

"Being Gotham, I'd say midnight swims any time of year aren't recommended."

"True. This is Gotham. You've picked that up quickly, it's not often non-Gothamites get the city's quirks. What made you choose this hell hole to work in?"

"Small gods, a slice of chance and fate."

It said everything and nothing all at once. Tim couldn't help but smile wryly at the barista before him. They fell into an easy teasing conversation that cemented the idea that this was his place. That this unusual, witty barista was going to be his friend and coffee dealer.

Given that The Ugly Mug coffee stop was not really on route to Wayne Enterprises from either the Manor, the Wayne City Apartment and it was tangential on route from Tim's nest, so getting there regularly in either persona's meant planning. Which was exactly what Tim excelled at. Subtly hints and some slight manipulation with planting the seed of thought meant that now his patrol routes passed close enough to the cafe at least 4 times a week. Getting up a fraction earlier and sacrificing more of his sleep was a forfeit he was willing to take to get this blessed nectar (he just needed to be cautious about hiding this information from his family). He'd also been able to task an intern to use his work driver and collect a midday pick me up from the establishment.

All in all, even though he had taken a dip into the freezing waters of Gotham docks (and ended up with a stubborn cold that took forever to shake), that evening had been a blessing in disguise.

Convincing Alfred that Tim would drive himself to the office this morning was hard. Tim claimed it was due to him wanting to pick up some paperwork and to talk to some heads of areas. Alfred's disapproval resonated off him since Tim was 'meant to rest' and recover from bruised ribs and twisted ankle. Tim ended up deploying Tam's disappointment and threat of maiming Tim that eventually convinced the elder man, with also the promise he would come straight home afterwards.

Free from Alfred's hawklike eye, Tim drove to his favourite location swiftly. He would go to the office, but first he needed to catch up with the devil in disguise, his favourite dealer to get the precious nectar he required.

Parking nearby, Tim turned to walk towards the cafe where he spotted the man lurking outside watching through the window.

Tim had been observing the man make this daily trip for about 3 months. The male always waited outside until he had spotted the caffeine cleric blessed to earth by the coffee gods before storming inside. He was meticulous in ensuring that she would be the one to serve him and then order the same bland unimaginative order everytime.

Tim followed behind the insipid man who suddenly darted in like it wasn't obvious he was waiting outside. Tim joined the small queue observing the situation, his mouth salivating with a pavlov response to the smells of coffee and sweet pastries. He grimaced watching the scene unfold in front of him.

It was painful just watching the unimpressive man flirt hopelessly with the coffee artist, who pointedly ignored the attempts and stuck studiously in just focusing on getting through the orders of the morning rush. It baffled Tim as to why anyone with any brains would come in at peak(ish) time to flirt with working servers and hold up the queue of tired, grumpy commuters.

Tim could easily admit that his dealer was cute, in a sister kinda way. Tim knew, from conversation with the blessed coffee provider, that the sharp wit and passionate fashionista was destined for greater things. She was worth more than serving coffee, baking delectable treats and being tied down with a partner of mediocrity who thought an espresso and a cappuccino to go was the height of coffee.

Tim's attention was drawn back to the situation occurring in front of him by the blonde customer in front snorting in amusement. Tim watched the car crash with a suppressed horror as the man leant on the counter and oggled the caffeine magician.

"Next!"

The vapid man stepped towards the counter.

"What can I get you?"

"I don't have caffeine in my system yet but you've just jumped started my heart. My usual please, sugar."

"And what's your usual?"

The cocky attitude the man held stuttered as an eyebrow raised waiting for his response. A pink dusting grew on his cheeks as the queue sniggered at the awkward exchange.

"An espresso and a cappuccino to go please."

"Name?"

"Marc, with a C. The C is for cuteness just like you."

"Oo-kay. One espresso and one cappuccino, coming up. Please wait by the end counter, please."

Dismissing the embarrassed man, the Caffeine Queen handed the order to her colleague then turned to the customer in front of Tim who wasn't even trying to cover their sniggers. The cropped haired blonde gave her order to Marinette who smiled in fake serenity as she put the order through the till before going to retrieve a pastry for the woman.

The fake smile morphed into an honest devil's grin as she eventually got to Tim. Her true chaotic nature resonated around the room causing Tim to send her a smirk.

"Tim!!! Your usual? Wide-awake poison? Or did you want to try something new like Finals Week Brew? Or I can make you my specialty, Hawkmoth Demise?"

"Morning Marinette. As tempting as the Hawkmoth Demise is… I'll stick with Wide-awake poison please. How are you this fair day my caffeine cleric, priestess of the grounds, goddess of the beans?"

"Oh you know, bitter souled as the roasted waters I brew. Is this to take away or will I be honoured with your presence for a while?"

The pair snorted at the jokes that jovially passed between each other adding further dramatics where they could as they ignored Marc's ever growing glare.

"Take away my fairest Barista. As much as I would desire to rest my weary soul in your presence, a quest of paperwork awaits me. To achieve this quest I require your blessing. I would be nothing without your magic caffeine potion."

Laughing and seeing as Tim was the last in the queue, Marinette moved to make his personalised drink as her colleague continued to make both Marc's and the blonde's before him.

"Cark? A espresso and cappuccino to go for Cark?"

No one moved. Tim watched as Marc bristled and had to hide his face and hope he could keep the giggles in.

"Oh Dan, that's Mark's with a C's drink. Not Cark. It is an unusual pronunciation of the spelling."

Marinette's cheerful voice drifted over the counter as the man turned beetroot and an ugly expression grew on his face. Marc snatched the drinks with a growl and stormed out of the cafe snarling at people in his way. Tim really hoped this wouldn't bite them on the proverbial later as the almost stalker left the premises.

"Maybe he should choose a more sensible coffee name with that kinda spelling Mare."

"Hmm probably."

Letting Marinette continue drink making, Dan called out for an Ash to collect their drink before noting the blonde staring at Marinette's pastry like it held the answers to the universe. Shaking his head Dan moved to the counter to serve the new crowd that had started to form.

Tim watched the blonde gaze at the treat, ignoring the world around her while Marinette flitted about making his life source essence. Finally, with a flourish, Marinette produced the largest possible takeaway cup of coffee with dragons and knights doodled across it.

"Sir gallant Tim. The potion for your epic journey."

Coughing politely, Tim tried to hurry Ash along as she continued to be entranced by the pastry in her hand. Tim could see Marinette smirking at him, like this wasn't an uncommon sight. Given how he reacted the first time he had found the place, maybe it wasn't that uncommon. The pastries were as good as the coffee since she'd started working at the Ugly Mug. The woman suddenly moved, drawn out of her daze and grabbed Ash's drink and moved to sit further within the cafe. Smiling in amusement, Tim shook his head and finally moved to get his precious nectar.

"My thanks dearest Caffeine Cleric. You're a blessing to the universe."

"Don't you forget it."

"I would never."

"Seriously, Marinette. Your coffee is the best. It's the highlight of my day."

"You say that all the time."

"It's the truth."

Smiling back with fondness, Marinette shook her head and handed Tim his drink.

"See you about Tim. Go tackle those papers and office mumbo jumbo. You know where to find me."

"Always. See ya Marinette."

With that Tim grinned while sipping his coffee and moved to leave his mini safe haven. Sighing in relief from the coffee flooding through his system before sighing again, bracing himself for the outside world.

Pushing the door open, Tim left the safe space of the best coffee establishment in Gotham. His family must never know about this place. He would set the world on fire to protect the hideaway cafe that was unobtrusive but homely to those who knew it's existence.

The Ugly Mug and its staff may not know it but as well as being neutral grounds due to the gruff owner and sassy worn out staff, it was under the protection of Red Robin - and Tim.

#maribat #maribat au #platonic timari #platonic maribat #dc x ml #dc x mlb #dcxml #dcxmlb #ml x dc #mlb x dc #mlbxdc #mlxdc

103 notes · View notes

olivia-anderson-fanfic · 10 months

Text

Trials and Defibrillations (3)

Jonathan was not sure how he had unknowingly adopted a child, for he was not sure he had even been nice to the child and therefore it should not have imprinted on him…

No, wait, now that he thought about it being purposefully aggressive with small animals actually made them form more of an attachment. Fuck. He’d made a mistake! His fatherly hormones were too hard for her to ignore!

This was all just a much longer way of saying: what the fuck?

Actually, he much preferred the short version.

“What the fuck?”

For just a moment, he got to see a tiny scrap of fear on her face for the first time. A slight widening of the eyes. A moment where her lips pressed together a little. A twitch of her nose.

This confirmed three things for him:

One, that she actually could feel fear.

Two, that she knew that she wasn’t supposed to be there.

Three, that she hadn’t expected him to finish his lunch break as quickly as he had, suggesting that she might have known his schedule.

But then the expression was gone, replaced by a casual smile so quickly that he almost thought he had imagined it. She looked up from where she was leaning far too close to a test tube he had set over a Bunsen burner. “Yeah?”

He tossed his work bag aside, opting to ignore the many files that went scattering across the floor for the time being (though that was very dangerous as many of them were chemical formulas and shouldn’t be out of order and maybe he should have cared, actually –) because he had a much more important thing he needed to worry about:

“How did you get in here?!”

She pointed to the door he had just come through.

“That is not what I meant and you know it!”

She drew back, lazy fingers turning down the heat on the burner. The faint red glow of overheating glass dimmed, and Jonathan noticed, perhaps a bit late, perhaps only because of the slight change, that the beaker had been bubbling just a little too much.

Whoops.

“Well, what do you mean, then?” She asked, tilting her head to the side innocently. And it seemed real. But there was something in the crinkle in her eyes that put him off. Her eyes gleamed with amusement, as if she was merely toying with him. The prick.

“I mean that this place is supposed to be a secret,” he hissed.

“Oh,” Marinette said, her hands coming to rest upon her hips. “Well, it’s not the best-kept one, if I’m going to be honest with you.”

He sputtered. “HOW?! It’s an abandoned warehouse!”

“Yeah. It’s an abandoned warehouse. Has it ever occurred to you guys to try and mix things up once and a while? I mean, really, all Batman has to do is monitor all of the abandoned warehouses, the carnivals, the sewers, and maybe a couple of clinics.”

“... that’s a lot of places to monitor.”

“Not with all of today’s technology,” she said, resting her chin in her hand, smiling dreamily. “I mean, motion sensors, cameras with perfect audio and sound, bugs, bugs that look like actual bugs, microchips –.”

“Ugh, don’t tell me you’re a Batman stan,” Jonathan said, almost begging.

Marinette snapped out of it enough to give him a mildly offended look. “I haven’t turned you in yet, have I?”

A good point, he supposed. If she had liked Batman more – or if she was, at least, neutral on the both of them – then she probably would have tipped him off that Jonathan was here.

(Not that he had any confirmation that the girl hadn’t and that the bat wasn’t on his way, Jonathan supposed, but he doubted she would have come here in person if that were the case. She had to have known that Jonathan could have come back sooner than expected, and why risk it? Sure, she had been weirdly calm about being threatened, but he hadn’t taken her for being actively suicidal. Just indifferent.)

But that in itself was a little strange. Why hadn’t she called for Batman? Even if she wasn’t scared of dying, wasn’t scared of him, she had seemed to be a good person. She had healed him, had asked for basically nothing in return. Said that she simply couldn’t sit by and let him die alone. Why, then, was she not turning him in?

Jonathan leaned back against a worktable. “You don’t like Batman?”

But, even as he asked it, he knew this wasn’t quite it.

She didn’t seem to mind Batman, had even sung his praises, which was strange. Jonathan would have been less shocked if she had a clear disdain for the man. The typical he didn’t save XYZ person and now I hate him or he’s just as bad as the Rogues bullshit that Jonathan had never understood but had seen often enough to recognize wasn’t there. She wasn’t that specific brand of insane – because, contrary to popular belief, Jonathan was very aware of the fact that most sane people disagreed with him. Not because he was insane, but because most sane people were boring. She was not boring, and he had already established that she was some brand of fucked up. Just… not the kind that hated Batman. This was different. It seemed as if she simply… liked Jonathan (and, perhaps, the rest of the Rogues) more.

… oh, holy shit, did he have a groupie now? Like Joker and his weird followers? He wasn’t ready for that!

Nor did he have the Cult Leader Charisma for that. Wait a minute.

He narrowed his eyes at her. She didn’t make sense.

He wanted to pick her apart and figure out what actually made her tick.

He was a psychologist as well as a chemist after all. How could he not be interested? She was a little anomaly that had been dropped off at his metaphorical doorstep. And then said anomaly had walked right into his literal abandoned warehouse. Which, really, meant it was fair game to study.

”I don’t dislike him,” she confirmed his thoughts, speaking slowly, as if she were mulling it all over carefully so as to not steer him wrong. As if she knew that he was studying her. But surely she would mind if she knew he was, right? Probably. Maybe not. Fucking hell, this entire situation was so strange. “I… respect him for all of the scientific discoveries he’s made...”

He scoffed. He felt the strange need to inform her that, “I’ve come up with more.”

“I agree,” she said easily. “It’s much easier to come up with a solution to a problem than to create it.”

And there it was. Something in the way she’d said it, in the way her eyes had gleamed when looking at the chemicals bubbling over the burner, in the way she’d talked about Batman’s technology. It all clicked together to form an answer that should have been obvious, but had been obscured by the… everything about her.

She was simply fascinated by the act of creation, no matter the consequences.

It was… not too different from how Jonathan had been, back when he’d started out. Obsessed with figuring out all of the inner workings of the human mind, frustrated by the APA’s weird necessity to make sure that the subjects of experiments wouldn’t be harmed, and willing to do anything if it gave him the answers he had so desperately wanted.

Too similar, perhaps.

He had thought that she might have known his schedule…

“Why are you here?”

She hummed lightly, as if seriously considering the question. A lie, because she then lifted a lazy finger to point at the test tube she had been looking at before he’d gotten back from lunch. “Curious.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not taking on any protegees.”

“I never said you were,” she said, smiling.

He narrowed his eyes at her. That did not sound like someone that understood that Jonathan Crane, the Scarecrow, worked alone. And not in the way Batman worked alone with like five people, he actually worked alone. “Which means you have no reason to be here.”

She tipped her head from side to side, thinking. “I disagree.”

“You can’t just –!” Jonathan did not know what to say to that. Is there anything you can say to that? Scientists (namely him) point to no. “This is my laboratory!”

“I feel like we’ve already established that.”

He threw his hands up in frustration. Great. Sure. This was fine.

Except, no it wasn’t, because he had another problem on his hands.

The door to Jonathan’s laboratory opened. Again. It was just Riddler, leaning heavily on his signature question mark cane, holding a hand to a cut on his leg as if that would stop it from bubbling with a horrible mix of blood and yellow puss, and it wasn’t a huge problem that he was there because Jonathan actually rather liked the guy in small doses… but, at the same time, Jonathan hadn’t actually told his fellow Rogues where he was staying so how the fuck had he found him?

Maybe Marinette was right. No more abandoned warehouses. People were finding him way too easily.

That would be a simple fix.

The thing with Riddler at the moment, though, would likely be harder to resolve. Because Edward had definitely been poisoned.

“Ugh, Jon, can you hook me up with –?” Edward Nygma began, only to pause when he realized that Jonathan was not, in fact, as alone as he would prefer.

There was a beat of awkward silence.

“Hi, Mr. Riddler,” Marinette waved, smiling brilliantly.

Jonathan pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d make a comment about Marinette’s lack of preservation skills if that hadn’t already been very well established. He really needed to work on that with her.

Wait, no. She needed to work on that with herself.

Haha! No time to think about that! Because, it turns out, springing a random person (however accidentally) on your paranoid coworker will not, in fact, end up going well.

“Who is she?!” Riddler said, pointing the end of his cane at her. The question mark fell away to reveal the barrel of a gun.

Marinette, of course, was unfazed. Though, admittedly, Jonathan probably wouldn’t have been too scared, either. Edward was sweating profusely, struggling to balance most of his weight on his uninjured leg now that he couldn't lean on his cane for support. Not exactly the most terrifying sight.

Still a deadly one, though. So, really, testing the man was not a good idea.

“Ed, you need antidote,” Jonathan tried to diffuse the situation.

Marinette did no such thing. She tilted her head to the side. “How do you shoot that thing? I don’t see a trigger anywhere. Is there a button I can’t see?”

It was like she had triggered his persona, because the moment the words left her mouth, the limping gait and pained expression and concern all left Edward in an instant. He smiled cockily, an eyebrow tugging upwards in a clear challenge. He rested his free hand on his hip, as if his hunched posture were merely mocking and infantilizing, and he angled his face so the sweat glistened in the light like glittery makeup.

“You really want to know?” He threatened.

Marinette was still unaffected.

“Yes.”

Edward… didn’t seem to expect that. He opened his mouth but, for once, he was speechless. He looked at Jonathan. “Is there something wrong with her?”

“Oh yeah, definitely,” Jonathan said, nodding fervently.

“Rude,” she mumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. “Especially considering there’s so much more wrong with you, Mr. Riddler. I mean, look at you, you’re all poisoned and going to die because you insist on continuing to move around.”

Edward looked… less than happy to hear this from her. His grip tightened on his cane.

Good, he had realized the graveness of his situation. They should deal with –.

“Those things aren’t at all related!”

Okay. Apparently not.

Jonathan groaned. “Edward, can we please concentrate on the poison that has entered your bloodstream?”

Edward honest to god pouted. “Fine.”

“Thank you –.”

“But you agree they weren’t related, right?”

Jonathan is the only person with a functioning brain in this damned city.

Or not. Marinette leaned closer to inspect the wound, her eyes gleaming. “Ooooh, that looks bad. At least it’s not above your heart. Still. You’d be lucky if the poison hasn’t entered your bloodstream yet.”

Right. She was some kind of science major with a shocking amount of knowledge about first aid. This was one of the few things that he knew for sure about her.

“Unless...”

She reached out a hand as if to poke Edward’s leg, only to get swatted away.

Great, now Jonathan had to deal with two people who were pouting like squabbling children.

“Jonathan, get the weird child away from my leg.”

She groaned. “I just want to see whether you followed that stupid advice people keep giving about tying off things like venomous snake bites. Like, I guess if you have no choice, it’ll work in a pinch, but it pretty much guarantees amputation.”

Riddler crossed his arms over his chest like a petulant toddler. Maybe it was redundant to compare him to a child again, but also, maybe, he should stop acting like a child. Because he sure did sound like a whining baby when he said, “I’m not stupid.”

“Debatable. Stop. Fucking. Moving. Unless you want to die, in which case, I’ve gotta go because my dickhead roommate is an EMT and if he sees me here he’s gonna be so pissed.”

“Your roommate doesn’t want you to interact with Rogues?” Jonathan said, brightening, because he might have just solved the problem that was having Marinette sneaking into his base constantly.

She narrowed her eyes at him, clearly aware of the evil thoughts swirling around in Jonathan’s brain. “Do you want me to give this bitch first aid while you work on the antidote or not?”

Jonathan and Marinette stared each other down for just a few moments more.

Before he sighed and nodded, making a vague motion for her to get on with it. She seemed to know what she was doing, at least, and it would make things go far faster this way.

“I’m not a bitch,” Edward mumbled irritably.

With the two of them working together, it didn’t take long for Edward to get treated. Jonathan got to take a couple of vials of blood and then fuck off further into the lab, which was awesome for him. Maybe he should feel bad about making Marinette deal with Edward all on her own for an extended period of time (a fate that was truly worse than death), but she had insisted so, really, she couldn’t get mad at him.

And, to her credit, she actually did seem to be good at dealing with things like this. Blood tests were a mind-numbing process that mostly involved dropping tiny droplets of blood into a series of Petri dishes and then waiting for something to happen, so Jonathan was happy to concentrate on anything else. Like Marinette and Edward arguing because Edward would neither pull his pants down nor let her rip them to try and get at the wound, which led to Marinette calling Edward a ‘wannabe Jeopardy host’ and him retorting that she was a ‘parasocial stannie’. And like Marinette and Edward having a fistfight despite being dangerously near a bunch of chemicals and the fact that Marinette had been complaining for the prior five minutes about Edward moving, only to get into a fight immediately. And like watching Marinette actually win and stand over Edward with her arms up like a pro wrestler that was about to get awarded The Big Shiny Belt ThingTM (Jonathan was not a sports guy, don’t laugh at him) while Edward groaned about his likely concussion and very real disadvantage known as being poisoned. Marinette ignored this in favor of cleaning the wound out and lightly wrapping it in gauze.

All in all, a very successful interaction with Edward Nygma.

And, once the antidote had been administered, Edward was pretty much back to his usual, annoying self. Not concussed, unfortunately, so they had to deal with him in all of his ‘glory’. Which included but was not limited to: insisting that they Grubhub McDonalds because he wanted fries and nothing else; swiping Jonathan’s phone off of the table to use his account so he wouldn’t have to pay a cent; and insisting that they all had to try a weird purple drink because it ‘has to be terrible’, as if that was some kind of plus side.

And it was all normal.

Except for one thing.

Edward pulled back the gauze on his leg to see whether he would have to take proper antibiotics to deal with an infection. But then he did something he never did:

He went quiet.

He looked up at Marinette, something calculating dancing behind his eyes.

“The cut wasn’t this small before.”

A glance down showed that this was true. Beyond that, the area around it was just a little redder than it probably should have been, even considering the recent poisoning, as if an abundance of blood cells had simply appeared out of thin air just for the sake of fighting off an infection before it had formed. It was a marginal difference, not something someone would notice normally. Not unless they were used to looking at wounds from poison-laced daggers, which the Rogues absolutely were.

“It just looked a lot worse earlier,” Marinette said, shrugging. “A mix of panic, blood loss, and wooziness from poisoning can make things appear worse than they are. And, by the time you got here, you'd been bleeding for a while.”

Edward’s eyes narrowed at her. “You’re a good liar, but your pupils gave you away.”

Something flickered across her face, but Jonathan didn’t get much time to analyze it before it was back to that pleasant little smile she had adopted ever since she had successfully stolen a couple of Edward’s fries without him noticing. “Excuse me?”

Edward, however, had been watching her, and didn’t miss a thing. “Your pupils dilated, so you lied.”

She snorted. “Or I got turned on. Or some drugs are kicking in. Or I’m scared. Or I think your face is just that ugly. Or you’re concussed and seeing things. Point is, that means nothing.”

“It probably does mean something that you’re denying it so profusely, though,” Jonathan said.

She turned to glare at him. “Who’s fucking side are you on?”

“The correct one.”

She ground her teeth together so hard that Jonathan swore he could hear one of them crack.

And then, finally, she leaned back, an annoyed expression creeping onto her face and then deciding that it was there to stay. “Damn, I thought I’d gotten away with it when I healed Jonathan.”

She flicked her wrist vaguely towards Edward, and the man gave a quiet gasp. His eyes fell to his leg, and Jonathan followed his gaze to find that the cut had completely disappeared.

“What the fuck?!”

“Bitch, why didn’t you just do that before?!”

But when they both looked up to ask her all of the questions that were practically bursting out of them, she was gone.

It was quiet for a few moments.

Edward scowled. “Man, I really don’t like her.”

+++++

Up next: The batfamily is paranoid and Adrien avoids all contingencies

Trials and defibrillations masterlist

#maribat #trials and defibrillations #mlbxdc #mlxdc

9 notes · View notes

khneltea · 2 years

Text

Day 4 - Number

X + Y = ...

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

There came a time in life when people are assigned partners or a group to work with. Rarely does it matter if you get along with the person or not, but what matters is the end result, no matter how it was reached within legal and ethical parameters.

If Marinette Dupain-Cheng could strangle the person who put her with Damian Wayne, then she would. Damian Wayne was, on all accounts, an entitled, arrogant bastard who had the brains and brawn to back it up, much to her chagrin. He was intelligent beyond his years, an Adonis with symmetrical features (that may or may not have influenced her new designs and sketches), and somehow had the maturity of an old wise sage and a thirteen-year-old brat all at the same time. He berated her on the little mistakes she made and poked at the contributions she made to the project in question.

It wasn't like she was a saint either. After the initial bumpy meeting, she would blow her fuse earlier than she did with her friends, and snark made its debut into her attitude. Funny enough, it only came out when she dealt with him.

They were too opposite of each other to get along, yet too similar to each other to let bygones be bygones. Both of them were bull-headed, independent, creative diverse people who work against people two or three years older than them. But where she was bubbly, he was prickly. Where he called it realism, she called it pessimism. Her idealism was his half-witted optimism. Stubborn to a fault, they both were unwilling to see the other's side. She hated him, and he hated her.

Jon was her — their, if they were being technical — only saving light in this whole fiasco. He stepped in before the arguments got too big, slinging an arm over Damian's shoulder, or asking Marinette about her latest fashion project. His smile was their saving grace, and she wondered, on more than one occasion, how he managed to put up with the asshole that was Damian Wayne.

Which brought her to her impromptu lunch with Jon in the campus cafeteria. It was not a date, thank you very much. Or at least, that's what she was telling herself and the little Adrien devil sitting on her shoulder. Jon was there to accompany Damian, and Damian was there to attempt to finish their project together.

At that moment, Damian was out buying his vegan lunch while Marinette and Jon had already found a table and were chowing down on their homemade lunches. She had almost rolled her eyes when he made a snide comment about her squished pastries, biting back a remark about how spoiled he was, buying subpar lunch at a cafeteria that jacked the prices way too high.

"Jon," she whined, slamming her head on the table. "Why, why are you friends with the démon himself?"

Jon gave her a smile, gulping down a bite of his sandwich. "Our dads are friends, and we've been friends since I was twelve. We get along."

"But why? You are like me, so how can you put up with him, but I can't?" She wanted to point at him with her chopsticks, but she could already imagine the earful she'd get from her Maman. She shuddered at the thought. Maman always knew, always.

"Why? We're two different people, so I guess opposites attract." He took another bite of his sandwich, eyeing the crowd.

She stared him down. "Let me put it this way. We," she gestured to the two of them, "we are like terms. X, if you will. Now, he is Y, which is the perpendicular to X, and by all means, should not get along. How is it that you intersect with him while Damian is like a parallel line to me?"

"Because..." He trailed off, trying to process what she said and refute it at the same time, gave up and shrugged. "I don't know. Something about getting put in near-death situations where you can only rely on the other person just does it. You learn to get along."

Marinette blinked at his unflinching smile. Dazzling, yes, and she never would have thought he talked about being in near-death situations if she hadn't heard it herself. They stared each other down. She wanted to know what he meant. He started sweating under her gaze, sandwich laid forgotten in his hands.

He looked away first. Ha.

"I think I can hear Damian calling me. I'm just going to—" He muttered and cut through the crowd like a blade in water. Not even ten seconds later, he emerged from the crowd again, dragging along a grumbling Damian behind him.

Her face twisted, pastries forgotten on the side. "How the hell did you hear Damian calling out to you?"

"Please, I could hear the both of you from a mile away." The green-eyed boy scoffed. "Maybe you should get your hearing tested."

She narrowed her eyes. "If you were listening, you would have noticed I was talking about hearing you, not—"

"Ok then." Jon interrupted, seeing the signs of a brewing argument. "How about we just chill for a bit, maybe not kill each other until the rest of the day?"

They glared at each other from the corner of their eyes and gave a solemn nod. Jon was trying to make an effort to get his friends to like each other, and they both agreed to compromise for Jon. It didn't make it any less irritating to sit with each other though.

Jon grinned. "Great! Now, I think we were in the middle of discussing our favourite heroes the last time we sat together."

Damian and Marinette groaned. If there was one other thing they agreed on, it was their mutual dislike of whatever topics Jon brought up. Specifically if it had to do with heroes.

-----------------

Marinette stretched her hands up, rolling her neck. "I think that's it. The hell project is finished."

"Yes it is." Damian cricked his neck with his hand, groaning.

Jon looked at them with puppy eyes. "Come on, it couldn't have been that bad."

"Jon, I don't know where the hell you've been for the past two hours, but this was absolute hell." She glared at the innocent boy, who answered with a blank stare.

"Save it, DC." Damian huffed, not looking up at her. Jon's face lit up at the nickname. In his eyes, it was a step forward to friendship between the stubborn geniuses. "Kent isn't going to suddenly become more aware just because you've pointed it out. You have to wait for him to come to the conclusion himself."

Jon looked like he sucked a lemon. "Hey, rude much!"

"Everything I've said was true, and you know it." Damian rolled his eyes. If she got along with the boy, she would have laughed. As it was, she settled for a minute smile. "And if we're talking about rude, then I would appreciate it if you would not insist on using my phone to talk to Dupain-Cheng between classes."

"What?" Jon's face lit up Peach pink, and she felt hers do the same. "I mean, you're the one with her phone number for the project—"

"—and it's not as if you hadn't memorised her phone number already." Damian gave her a terse nod. She stared at him. What was he doing?

Before the two stunned people could move, he stood up. "Now, if you will excuse me. I have better things to do with my time than to watch this paltry game of chicken."

They watched as he strode off, and the room was quiet. They couldn't make eye contact with each other, and their eyes were glued to the table.

Come on, Mari, she thought, new country, new university, new you.

She took a deep breath, glanced up then back down again. Nope. Couldn't do it that time. Maybe once more.

This time, she met shy blue eyes and a blinding smile.

"So..." He trailed off, phone in his hand.

Her heart fluttered, and she channeled as much Lady Noire energy as she could. "Can I have your number?"

He nodded and gave her that wonderful heartthrob smile she loved so much. She almost melted on the spot. Oh Kwami, she was doomed from the beginning.

hello and welcome back to hlmhlmn! they've exchanged phone numbers now, marriage is next— kidding. but anyways. thank you again @maribat-calendar-events for the lovely prompts and i hope you stick around <3

tag list: (open)

@couffeeine @jumpingjoy82 @iloontjeboontje @wolfy-kat @11thgradewriter @literaryhiraeth @toodaloo-kangaroo @verymuchimmortalcat

#maribat #romance #dcxmlb #dcxml #mlbxdc #mlxdc #SuperMari May #SuperMari May 2022 #supermari may pre emptive #marijon #maribatmarinette #maribatmarinettedupaincheng #maribatjonkent #maribatjon #jonxmarinette #marinettexjon #maribatdamianwayne #maribatdamian

52 notes · View notes

legends-live-in-memories · 2 years

Link

VOTE VOTE VOTE!!!!!

Second round of the 2022 Maribat? Get in Server Bracket War host by the lovely team @mgi-events is now open for voting! All works can be found here in the AO3 collection:

Collection!!!!

#maribat #maribat events #MGI #mgi server event #maribat bracket fic war #daminette #dickinette #jasonette #timari #stephmari #mlxdc #tell your friends!

6 notes · View notes

porcelana-r0ta · 8 days

Text

I know the respective fandoms of DC and Miraculous Ladybug have a certain disdain for MLxDC fics but I think there's a potential for fics where Luka leaves Paris and just keeps traveling to different US cities because he keeps figuring out secret identities and he's just this 15 year old kid growing increasingly frustrated and exasperated at how badly everyone hides their identities and he just has to pretend to be oblivious even tho it's Their Fault for being Bad At Secrets and shouldn't adults be better at this??????

#he goes to central city and he's like ah yes a city with an actual adult hero #surely he will be able to keep his identity a secret #and then that very same day he's at the bank setting up an american bank account and captain cold tries to rob it #and the flash saves the day as he does #and everything's great and dandy and secretive #but then #BUT THEN #he has to go to the police station about some paperwork for his witness statement (idk its fanfic just Write Something yk?)#and some guy laughs in the back of the precinct #and luka is like huh. that sounds like flash's laugh when he laughed at his own cold pun yesterday.#and he looks at the laughing guy and he's like oh hey they have the same jawline too. and same basic build. and god DAMN IT!!!!!!#literally just turning him into wes weston from my own fanfic which like. yeah i like the same concept in different flavors soooo #not a surprise #dcxmlb #dc x mlb #mlbxdc #luka couffaine

66 notes · View notes

editorofeverything · 1 year

Text

Daminette

Is anyone still reading/writing Daminette fics?? It's one of my favorite MLxDC ships and I've been working on a longish fic for a few years now, but my anxiety kept me from posting anything about it until I had a good portion of it written out. I'm getting into separating and editing chapters now, so even if only one person is still reading, I think I'll start posting soon (soon like as soon as I clean up my first five chapters)

Edit: I did the thing! Here's the link!

#daminette #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #maribat #miraculous ladybug #DCU #Batman #Robin #damian wayne #damian wayne al ghul #Damian wayne as Robin #Guardian Marinette #Order of the Guardians #league of assassins #talia al ghul #I literally have one plot point to finish up and then I'm posting

125 notes · View notes

zeestarfishalien · 1 year

Note

Hi! I saw in the tags somewhere that you have an ML x DC crossover! I tried to find it on your blog, but I didn’t have much luck 😅 Do you happen to have a link?

Heyo! I keep my fic and non-main project posts over on another blog. @therestofmywritingchaos

Here's my AO3 MLxDC crossover fics. I have 3

#ao3 #maribat #mlb x dc

5 notes · View notes

wheredostarsgowhenyoudie · 2 years

Text

Once upon a time in Wayne Mansion...

Jason: B! B! Come on, you gotta hear this.

Bruce (an overexhausted dad): What is going on?

Jason (sounds gleeful): Go on Baby D. Tell B what you bought.

Damian (arms crossed, pouting): Marinette said she's looking for specific jewelry so I had Gotham shops empty out the stores so she can take her pick.

Bruce (who had met AND fought with his son's girlfriend's alterego): U-huh. And do tell. How did Ms. Dupein-Cheng react to that?

Damian (scoffs): She said what the heck, and demanded I return them all back cause it doesn't work like that. I don't understand! Mother would have been delighted!

Bruce (frowns) as Jason (snorts).

Jason (sing-songs): And what did we agree Talia is?

Damian (glares): She is still my mother.

Jason (sighs and bends down to Damian's eye level): I know, baby D. I know, and am so glad you aren't anything like her. But just as you aren't like her, Marinette is also her own person. Just imagine if she's anything like Talia, would you like her then?

Damian: (looks horrified)

Jason (smirks): Exactly.

Bruce: (looks like a proud dad for how Jason handled his little bro)

Damian: But Agreste also did the same thing, and she's still talking to him!

Bruce (who also knows about said kid's alterego): Miss Dupein-Cheng has also known young Agreste for much longer and therefore is immune to her friend's antics. You on the other hand had successfully taken a much coveted and more intimate role to her, so it makes sense she expects better behavior from you.

Damian: And buying her things isn't that?

Jason (throws hands): Things? You bought out Gotham!

Damian: Oh.

Bruce (asks knowingly): Yes oh. And Damian, did she tell you what sort of jewelry she wants?

Damian (frowns): No. She wouldn't say.

Bruce: (receives a text, pulls out his phone to read it, and ends up looking amused.)

Bruce: Alright boys, time to move. Change to your suits. The Paris heroes are arriving in ten.

Bruce: Oh, and Damian, might I suggest you ask Miss Ladybug for her preference on jewelry? I have a feeling she and Miss Dupein-Cheng share the same taste.

Damian: I doubt it. Just because they both come from Paris may not mean that. But I can ask.

Bruce (pats his son's shoulder): Just trust me on this, son. Detective's instinct.

#maribat #mlxdc #daminette #damianette #bruce wayne #batkids #jason wayne #damian wayne #miraculous ladybug #ml #mlb #miraculous #marinette dupein-cheng

773 notes · View notes

jayphoenic · 10 months

Text

Maribat Masterlist 2

The Supreme Masterlist by @icerosecrystal

Masterlist by @neakco

Maribat Series Masterlist by @jinx-jade

Batman Rec Fic by @lurkinglurkerwholurks

Masterlist by @arty-shadow-morningstar

117 notes · View notes

jasmehraj · 3 years

Text

Nino: Dude~ looks like someone got a crush.

Damian (fondly looking at Marinette): I have a girlfriend.

Lila: Then why don't you look at your girlfriend-

Damian (still looking at Marientte): I am looking at her.

Taglist: @nathleigh @jalaluvsu @togetherwekill @stackofrandomstuff @qualitypeacepainter @greatcatblaze @shewhorises-tjyj @myazael

#daminette #jasmehraj #maribat #mlbxdc #mlxdc #damimari #maridami #maribat incorrect quotes

663 notes · View notes

ive-tumbled-down-a-rabbit-hole · 3 years

Text

Tea Leaves & Coffee Beans

A Re-Meet Cute Monday 14

Ok so kinda freaked out that I've now written 14 MCMs over 4 months now when it originally was meant to be a 'one off' occurrence. I completely fell into a writting trap.

This one is a slightly different approach as is a 're-meet' and I've added another cross over just because.

ML X DC X Crazy Rich Asians

Masterlist

MCM Masterlist

.............................................................................

Taking a moment to escape the madness with Dick, Tim stared out across the gala room. Guest's milled about, drinking champagne, talking business, pretending to donate money. The normal over the top extravaganza, fake laughter as one up manship competitions took place amongst Gotham's socialites and upper elites. Sighing, Tim looks back down at the drink held in his hand wishing it was caffeinated instead whatever Dick had given him. He really hated these events Bruce insisted they all attend to 'keep up appearances' but neglects to remember, or perhaps because of it, that he had done this since a child with his parents and he'd done over his fair share of 'schmoozing' for a lifetime.

Glancing up out of the corner of his eye, Tim thought he caught a glimpse of a ghost of his past, but that didn't make sense though. That ghost had disappeared years ago, why would it reappear now. Thinking analytically, it was more likely to be a trick of the light and he was jumping to conclusions due to thinking back to his parents. Shaking his head and focusing back at observing the room he couldn't see any signs of what he was looking for reassuring him that it was his mind playing games. Which wouldn't have happened if he had caffeine. Tim sent Dick a dirty look as if it would support his thoughts.

Tim downed the non caffienatied beverage and placed it on a passing waiters tray before turning to see Bruce approaching. Colour drained from his face and dread built up in his stomach. '$h1t! $h1t! $h1t!' chanted through his head. Tim glanced around looking to escape but Dick suddenly deciding to rest an arm on him he found he was trapped.

"What's with the look Timmy? You've been giving me the evils all evening and you now look like you've seen a ghost. What's up?"

Dick questioned Tim trying to work up what was up with his brother. He had been out of soughts all evening and right now he looked like he was about to pass out.

"Nick, let me introduce you to some of my son's. Richard and"

"Timothy. It’s a surprise to see you here. Last I heard you had disappeared out of the spotlight for a few years after your parent’s untimely departure. The Young's and Cheng's sent their regards back then, but please accept my personal condolences now that we've met in person again."

Nick smiled charmingly at Tim, who could only stare. Bruce and Dick gawked at the pair before them trying to make head or tail of what was happening.

"Nick, you... know Tim?"

"Yes. Rachel and I spent some time teaching Timothy here and my cousin's daughter while both their parents were visiting the Young family home in Singapore. Timothy was a similar age to Marinette. They were thick as thieves back then. You've grown well, and you seem much happier here, Timothy."

After getting over the initial shock of Nick being here, in Gotham, and that maybe his early thought about the ghost may be real, Tim breathed in deep and detached his internal panic to focus on the moment.

"Thank you Nick, living with Bruce is … different from what it was like at Drake Manor.” Tim frowned a little, “Not to be rude, but why are you here?"

Taking Tim’s question in stride Nick smiled understandably at him, "Marinette is over in the U.S due to working with her self-claimed 'uncle'. Though Sabine and Tom trust him, they wanted a familiar face to ensure she's ok over here. It is Gotham afterall. Plus it seems like a good opportunity to maybe to investigate a joint business venture with Wayne Enterprises since the original proposal with Drake Industries seems unlikely now."

Nick grinned at Tim and looked back out into the room. Tim tensed subtly at the last statement, and he knew it didn't go amiss from his family. Bruce taking the lead,

"The Young's and Drake's had a business proposal?"

As Nick and Bruce engaged in deeper conversation of the Drake's past involvement and agreements, Tim gaze swept the room. At the edge of the room he caught sight of his ghost. It wasn't his imagination at all, she really was here. Dressed in her typically pale pink, but much like a sunset, the pink slowly blended into a deep maroon almost black, dress causing a small smile and to break Tim's attention to the older men around him. Just like him, Marinette had grown a lot since they last saw… spoke to each other, but it was nice to see she still had threads of her past character about her.

Tim looked at who she was engaged in conversation with and grimaced. He recognised the guy from school and knew he was a pain who didn't like not getting his own way. Noting the way Marinette was slowly flexing her fist, Tim moved.

He slipped out Dick's grasp swiftly, ignoring the calls of his name from Dick, he walking directly towards his ghost. Upon approaching the pair Tim could easily see the guy leering at Marinette trying to encroach into her space.

"Go on Sweetheart. You know you want to dance with me. Being seen with me will give you a huge popularity boost."

Suppressing his anger towards his class mate Tim glided in to greeted the girl from his past ignoring the twerp from school.

"Tea Leaf! It's been so long. I bumped into your cousin who mentioned you were here. Can I interest you in that dance I owe you and chance to catch up?"

Turning to him, she looked up and blinked in surprise. Recognition slowly filtered across her face causing Marinette to burst out into a huge smile.

"Coffee Bean! I almost didn't recognise you. You're missing a coffee cup. A dance would be lovely, especially the one you owe me from Uncle Alistair's wedding anyway."

Tim took hold of Marinette’s hand and kissed the back of it before tucking it into the crook of his elbow as he led her to the dance floor. It wasn’t often that he danced at these events. He could dance perfectly fine and along with all the training for his 'night-life' meant that navigating a dance floor was a breeze, not that those at this gala knew this. This meant that as he led Marinette around the dance floor in a slow waltz the pair could feel eyes all on them. Not so subtle whispers as to who she was and how did she ensnare a Wayne.

Her brilliant eyes stared up at him twinkling with mirth as she returned from a graceful twirl he’d spun her into.

"Ignore them Bean. They will always gossip about something. Though I must say that I’m rusty in dealing with the paparazzi and gossip mongers for are interested in what *I’m* up to.

It so nice to be able to dance with you again. Somehow you make this feel effortless."

Tim grinned down at her, the pressure and anxiety that he felt building this evening melting away.

"You always say that Tea Leaf."

"If I always say that, then it has to be true."

Tim barked out a laugh at her statement as he dipped her before slowly lifting her, letting her do another spin which showcased her dress. Their time apart feeling like it was shrinking as they reconnected.

"Never change Tea Leaf. It's… it's good to see you. So what's new since we last spoke? Last time I heard you were in Paris?"

"Still the great conversationalist as ever Bean, but yeah, I've been in Paris 8 years now I think. It was a huge culture shock compared to Hong Kong and Shanghai and well as well from being at the Great Grandma's.”

She let out a small huff at that, “Everywhere is different from Great Grandma’s. What about you? A Wayne now… I hope it's different from your parents… like I know they were your parents but still…"

Tim grimaced slightly as she hit a sore subject but then he recalled in the last conversation he had with her was that she didn't want to be in Paris, having left the safety of her family… her friends. To leave him, but he had put the distance between them after his parents death. He pushed her away. Maybe that dig wasn’t unjust and he still didn’t know how Paris went she tactfully bypassed the details.

They continued to waltz around the room carefully catching up. Re-learning to navigate each other. Re-learning the boundaries and understanding they once had. Falling back into the natural rhythm they had as children.

Eventually the latest set the band was playing came to a pause. Tim, holding her gaze, gently lifted her hand up and kissed the inside of her wrist. “Thank you, Tea Leaf.”

The pair meandered without care off the dance floor over to where Bruce, the rest of his siblings who hand now congregated, Nick and now Jagged Stone were standing.

"There's my little Rocker!! Cool moves on the dance floor. You never told me you could dance!"

"You never asked Uncle J and to be honest I can only really dance with Bean. He’s the star really, I’m still the clutz you know without his dance guidance.”

"Tea Leaf!! You know Jagged Stone?!?!"

Marinette smirked at Tim "Of course, Coffee Bean! He's my Uncle that I came here with. Nick is supervising as Maman doesn't trust Uncle J not to get distracted. But given that I met you again, it's probably best that Nick is here."

Before Tim could get distracted and hyped up over Jagged Stone (which the rest of Wayne's had already done earlier while freaking out about Tim dancing with someone), Jason cut in.

"Oi! Timbo, are you not going to introduce us to your… companion?"

Rolling his eyes at Jason, Tim turned to Marinette.

"Tea Leaf, these are my adopted family. Bruce, Dick, his partner Babs, Jason, Cass, Duke, Steph and Damian. Guys, this is my betrothed, my Tea Leaf, Marinette."

There was a moment pause. All that could be heard was the background noise of the gala before Dick proclaimed, “BETHROTHED!”

Chaos followed.

Bruce glared and Nick as ‘betrothal’ obviously hadn’t come up in the Drake/Young-Cheng business discussions. “Explain!”

Jagged turned to Marinette looking hurt, “Little Rocker… why didn’t you say anything… that explains why you ended it with Luka…”

Tim was hounded by his siblings. Questions on top of questions. All speaking at once so blurring into loud noise. None were letting him get a chance to reply anyway as another would come up with something they wanted to know.

Tim and Marinette shared a glance at each other. Much like when they were 8 when they were trying to escape their home-school lessons, a silent understanding passed between them.

“Uncle J, weren’t you meant to leave Fang at home?”

“What?!” “Whose Fang?”

“Fang’s Uncle J’s pet crocodile.”

The Wayne Clan and Jagged looked in the direction Marinette pointed. Tim used the distraction to grab Marinette’s hand and off they ran, weaving between the crowds, darting behind groups to hide from their family. Tim eventually led them to a quiet hidden nook to avoid the drama they had unleashed.

“So, Bean, betrothal? You… you still want that? Nick and Maman wouldn’t mind if we decide against it. It was your parents pushing for it in the first place… not that I’m against it… I mean… I… It’s our choice now…”

“Tea Leaf… I…” Tim stared at his first best friend trying to work out what he wanted to say.

That though he, and by the sounds of it her as well, had dated. It never lasted as they were never *her*.

That he had concluded a long time ago he’d end up single alone since he pushed her away.

But she was here.

And that despite the hurt they both carried, it felt right.

That their friendship was still there. That despite it all, it was natural to pick up again.

That he always knew if he was going to end up with someone it was always going to be her.

Unable to find the right words to express what he was feeling, Tim leant down and kissed her forehead before resting his chin on her head as he brought her into a hug. Cherishing the moment where he could feel her in his arms.

Sighing, “What do you want Tea Leaf…? I’d happy if we can go back to being best friends again, but I…”

Again, he struggled to say what he wanted. That he wanted to be betrothed to her, it took the pressure away and they could be themselves and he knew where it would end up. There were very few unknowns. But then there was his vigilantism which would get in the way and the impact. Maybe it would be best to take Nick and Sabines offer.

It wasn’t fair that Marinette had a magic way of making him accept that it was ok to think about what HE wanted not just what was expected of him. That he could be selfish and not think of duty.

“What if we try dating and take it from there?”

Her question broke his thoughts as they shifted to look at each other. She bit her lip in nervous worry. Tim smirked as he processed her solution which was a perfect medium. Neither accepting nor rejecting the original proposal.

Lifting his hand to cradle her face, Tim used his thumb to stop her worrying her lip. Leaning down slowly, giving Marinette plenty of time to back out if she wanted, Tim whispered, “Sound’s perfect,” before pressing his lips to hers.

.............................................................

Ok, so below is Young family tree (apologies for dodgy insert but doing this on my phone). Sabine is Lady Young's youngest daughter 'Alix's daughter. Nick is Sabine's cousin.

Lady Young

|---------------|--------------------|

Felicity Eleanor Alexandra (Alix)

Young Sung-Young Young-Cheng

| | |-------|----------|

Astrid Nick Alistair & Eddie Sabine

#maribat #maribat au #ml crossover #MLxDC #DCxML #MLBxDC #DCxMLB #timari #marinette x tim #tim x marinette #MLxCrazyRichAsians #CraxyRichAsiansxML #meet cute monday #meet cute #MCM #timinette

162 notes · View notes

olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 months

Text

Trials and Defibrillations (4)

Duke squinted suspiciously at the man on the ground below him. You would think that he shouldn’t be squinting at a man in an EMT uniform who was wrapping a shock blanket around someone, kneeling in front of them and talking in a pleasant, kind tone. However, you have not considered that the person he was squinting at was literally the closest thing this world had to the personification of evil.

And, on top of that, he was just kind of an asshole.

Equally heinous crimes.

After what felt like an hour (because it was one), the family was sent to the hospital, and Adrien glanced down at his watch. He waved for his coworkers to go on without him, since his shift was already over, and his house was closer to where they were than the hospital.

Someone promised to give him until the end of the hour so he could get a couple of extra dollars, and Adrien flashed a thumbs up.

Gasp. He was possibly even claiming false overtime! That fiend!

This crime was, admittedly, understandable in this economic environment, but still! A crime!

He dropped down behind him, a vigilante intent on bringing an end to his evildoing ways, and Adrien’s shoulders slowly slumped. He stood there for a moment, visibly deflated, and then he brightened up again, spinning around and clapping his hands together.

“Signal! How awesome of you to show up at my job! I’ve been hard at work, you know, helping out society as a whole –.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were an EMT when I asked about your medical experience?”

“It was funnier not to.”

Duke spluttered. “Really?!”

“I mean, yeah. It’d probably be funnier if I could see more of your face but, you know, c’est la vie.”

Duke had forgotten just how annoying Adrien was. Which was saying a lot. He had thought that the man(?) was irritating even before. He was exceeding expectations. An overachiever.

Wait, no, that is a terrible trait to assign to a god of destruction. Duke has decided that Adrien is actually… not that. Something else. Nailed it.

“Your sense of humor is… interesting,” Duke said, eventually.

“Thanks! It was developed thanks to the years of physical and psychological torture!”

Duke squinted at Adrien’s face. He wasn’t able to tell whether he was joking or not. Mostly because, on top of his signature sunglasses, he was currently wearing a surgical mask. It didn’t leave much to analyze.

Not that he was easy to analyze even when his entire face was shown, considering the near-perpetual cheeriness that he assumed was more due to insanity than actual happiness.

Eventually, he decided to ignore that glaring red flag. Ignoring everything the blond said was generally better for his mental health, anyway.

“I will be taking you to the Batcave so we can run some tests. Are you going to come with me willingly, or do I have to knock you out?”

Adrien snickered. “I don’t think you understand who has more power here. Literally. Like, you couldn’t hurt me if you tried.”

Duke grimaced, his mind wandering to the fire that Adrien had walked through like it wasn’t there – actually, worse, the fire seemed to like him, for lack of a better word. It had behaved like a bunch of needy children, pulling at his clothes for attention.

“Don’t remind me.”

“I mean, I can pretend, if you need me to,” Adrien said, surprisingly earnest. “Like, if you want to punch me I’ll fall over and lay there and stuff.”

“… I’d appreciate that, thank you.”

+++

There was a god of destruction in a cave full of bats.

Not the Bats. Duke’s furry family members would not be awake for another few hours. They would not be happy about the ‘security risk’ that was bringing Adrien here, so Duke was determined to get this over with as fast as was physically possible.

Couldn’t get mad at him if they didn’t know he’d done it!

Adrien watched on curiously as Duke toyed with a machine. “Have you guys made lightsabers yet?”

“You know Star Wars?” Duke asked.

He should probably answer the god, because he was a god and if anyone could find a way to kill Duke despite his apparent immortality it was probably him, but the guy had shown himself to not be much of a threat so far. Like, sure, he was terrifying, which was the reason Duke had brought him here in the first place, but there was this… air around him.

He didn’t take things seriously. Which made it hard to take him seriously.

As if to prove his point, Adrien huffed a laugh and waved him off. “Duh. Who hasn’t?”

“Losers,” said Duke, thinking of Damian. Sure, the kid kind of got a pass on account of having his childhood stolen from him by the League, but also no he didn’t.

Adrien nodded, sagely. “Losers,” he agreed. Truly, the years had made him wise.

Finally, Duke finished setting things up. He turned to Adrien.

“Alright, what this device does is shoot water at approximately 60,000 psi –...” The god sent him a blank look. “– really fucking fast. And, since speed, kinda, equals force, this can do a lot of damage.”

“... I’m sorry, we’re talking about water, right?”

“We’re talking about the sharpest thing humans have created up to this point.”

“Like… the thing that goes woosh-woosh?” He made a motion with his hands, like a person riding a wave, trying to get his point across as clearly as possible. “Am I misunderstanding or something? Did you just go insane? I know that happens a lot around me, for some reason, but you seem pretty –.”

Duke pointed the device at a nearby safety railing and turned it on. The water cut through the metal like it was butter.

The boy’s eyes gleamed. He sighed dreamily, looking, for lack of a better word, as if he had fallen in love. “I think I get what she means when she says human inventions are… marvelous.”

Should Duke question who ‘she’ was? Probably.

However, he had more pertinent thoughts, like ew.

“I’d make a joke about leaving you two alone, but I don’t want people to die.”

If possible, the god looked even more delighted by this sentence. “It can kill people? Can I kill someone with it?”

The god of destruction was making fucking grabby hands.

“No.”

“Boo, whore.”

Duke did not know how to respond to that.

And then he realized he didn’t have to. Joyous day!

He turned to point the device at Adrien. “May I try?”

“Oh, sure,” Adrien said.

“Stick your hand out for me? I don’t want to accidentally kill you just because you thought it wouldn’t work.”

He grinned and waved him off as if Duke was talking about a mosquito bite instead of murder. “Ah, don’t worry, I’ve lived long enough, I think.”

“Can’t you take anything seriously?” Duke almost begged.

The way amusement played across the god’s lips did not bode well for that particular hope. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you are quite possibly a world-ending threat, maybe?”

Adrien looked offended. “I would never!”

“Buddy, your title is literally ‘the god of destruction’.”

Adrien opened his mouth, and then it snapped closed. He had been swayed by Duke’s argument, it seemed. Or, at least, he was thinking hard about how he would refute it.

He couldn’t have been thinking that hard, though, because his response was not the kind that felt well thought out and profound:

“But that would be boring.”

Duke sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Right. This was the guy that didn’t take anything seriously. Maybe he should just shoot him in the chest, possible risk of homicide be damned.

He decided against it. Instead, he shot the man in the foot.

His shoe tore open.

Adrien didn’t even blink. He merely pouted and pulled the shoe off. His sock was pure white, no blood to be found.

“Man, you owe me a new pair of shoes.”

Duke thought he had bigger problems.

Looks like he was going to get in trouble with his family after all. If he wanted to figure out how to kill this god, it would be good to get the help of people who were far more experienced with gods and contingencies than him.

Like Bruce.

… nah. Nevermind. He’d settle for the other batkids.

He pulled out his phone and got to work hacking their alarms.

+++

Adrien sat in a plastic folding chair, his chin resting on the top of it, watching the bats bicker. His amusement had long since bled out of him as the hours dragged on. Now, save for the unlit cigarette hanging half out his mouth precariously, he looked remarkably like a kid who had been dragged to a party by their mom and was about to make it everyone else’s problem.

You would think an immortal who has lived longer than a person could ever truly conceptualize would be more patient, but apparently not.

“There has to be a way,” said Damian. “I have not yet found a being that could not be killed.”

“Isn’t Wonder Woman indestructible?” Adrien asked.

“No, she is somewhat vulnerable to piercing attacks. I believe it is due to her antagonistic relationship with Ares.”

Adrien made a thoughtful sound, looking very much like he was filing that information away for later.

Duke kicked Damian in the shin. “Don’t tell the God of Destruction how to kill Wonder Woman, please.”

Adrien gave a little huff of annoyance and pulled the cigarette from his mouth, twirling it idly between his fingers. No one knew where they had gotten the cigarette, frankly, Duke had made him empty his pockets before coming in and there was no way any of the bats would give one to him. But this was something they didn’t want to think about right now.

Because there are more important things to think about! Obviously! Not because they’re scared!

Please ignore Tim having a breakdown in the corner.

The god groaned and slumped further in his chair. He didn’t want to be here any more than Tim did.

Admittedly, it was normal not to want to be around people discussing how best to kill you, but Adrien’s problem with the situation clearly wasn’t the discussion itself, but instead how long it was taking.

How could Duke be so certain about another person’s thought process, you may ask?

Well, because Adrien had bemoaned all of this. Several times. At length.

While actively being stabbed by a frustrated Stephanie Brown.

Or, at least, Steph was trying to stab him. It was equivalent to trying to stab a fridge, the knife glancing off of him despite her best efforts. His only concern at the moment was about the state of his shirt.

She, too, must have cared about the holes she was slashing into his clothes, because she gave a high scream of frustration and then tossed the knife into the nearby abyss. No one wants to accidentally disrobe a god, after all.

Do gods have…?

Would it still work…?

Duke doesn’t need to know!

“Maybe it’s only his skin that’s invulnerable,” Jason said.

Out of all of the bats, he was the most relaxed about all of this. Maybe his dying and coming back made him and the God of Destruction kindred spirits.

Or maybe he was just amused by how stressed out everyone was. The chances were about 50/50.

“Like that one Greek myth. If you can get a knife between his teeth you can kill him.”

“Noooo don’t go shoving things down my throat you’re too sexy,” Adrien deadpanned.

“Will it kill you?” said Tim, his tone bordering on desperation.

Adrien raised an eyebrow. The cigarette in his hand began to smoke, flames licking at the paper. Before they could even react to the fucking fire, he shoved the burning lump of chemicals down his throat.

They could do nothing but stare on in horror as he swallowed it.

Okay, well, that answers that.

Another, new cigarette appeared in his hand.

That answers their other question! They are getting so many answers right now! What a win!

Please, if something up there likes him, he is begging that he doesn’t get an answer to the ‘do gods have penises’ question anytime soon. Or ever, if he can help it, but he would take a compromise! He is very agreeable and nice! Do not spring a god’s dick on him anytime soon, please schedule a time and date with him! Thank you!

Duke is going to have a mental breakdown.

Someone needs to distract him with something stupid before that happens because he hasn’t yet scheduled a time and date for a breakdown, either.

“It won’t kill me. It’s just against my boundaries,” Adrien said, as if it made all the sense in the world.

Duke stared at him. He had asked for something to distract himself, he supposed, this one was on him, but that was just… “Why?”

Adrien shrugged. “Unresolved trauma.”

“Oh, if the immortal has unresolved trauma, we’re all doomed,” Steph groaned.

“I mean, I have eternity to figure it out.”

“You’ve already had an inconceivable amount of time to change. At this point, if you haven’t done it already, will you ever?” Tim asked.

Damn. Deep-cutting words from the guy only one step above hyperventilating.

This wasn’t helped when Adrien lopped his arms over the boy’s shoulders from behind, resting his chin atop his head delicately. The touch was light, barely there, Tim didn’t show any kind of strain at trying to keep his weight aloft, and yet...

Everyone jolted. No one had seen the god move.

And there was a clear threat in the way he smiled. He slumped against Tim’s back, dropping his weight onto the boy. And more. Because there was no reason why a man – who was, though much taller than average, but lanky in a starved way – should weigh enough that Tim’s knees began to buckle instantly.

“Do you think that you could ever get over your own death?” Adrien asked.

“I – I thought you couldn’t –.”

“Oh, I am unable to die now. It was not always that way.” Adrien laughed, but he was lacking its usual playfulness. The god had always been so relaxed, unphased, that the genuine coldness hidden beneath his expression froze Duke in place. “Tell me, little human, how do gods come to be?”

Tim fell to his knees, only barely catching himself before he could slam his face into the ground.

Adrien stood over him.

“It happens when someone is destroyed. Every cell systematically broken over and over again until they’re eventually strong enough to withstand it. Every thought, every memory, everything that could have made you human, deleted. I don’t even remember my name – or if I had one at all. You can say it’s worth it, for immortality, but it was not. Nothing is worth that.”

He stepped around Tim. His gaze lifted, to look at the rest of the bats.

He was bored.

And then, a smile abruptly made its way across his face, his face lighting up in that same old amusement. It no longer felt entirely true.

“Anyways!” Adrien said, clapping his hands beside his head. “Guys, if the god of creation couldn’t figure out how to kill me, you sure as hell can’t.”

“There’s another one of you out there?!”

Adrien tipped his head back in a laugh. You wouldn’t think that a laugh could be threatening, but you would be wrong.

“There is! And, between you and me, I’m not the one you should be more scared of.”

+++

Well, that was enough traumatizing events for the night. Duke was taking the god home.

He waved him off from across the street – Adrien had stressed that he didn’t want his roommate to see any of them – and watched as the god started trying to break his own window lock. Why he didn’t just go in the front door was beyond Duke. Maybe he was just incapable of doing anything remotely normal. Maybe he had forgotten his keys somewhere. Maybe he had just seen an excuse to break something and jumped at the opportunity.

God only knows.

Or, at least, this god only knows.

This god does not, however, know what is about to happen to him next.

Hands grabbed him by the shirt and hauled him inside before he had even fully managed to open it. His shriek of surprise could be heard even from across the street. He knocked his head against the window on the way in, the glass rattling in its frame from the sheer force of it all.

… Duke knew that the god couldn’t die, knew it all too well, but he still tuned into the conversation he was having to make sure that his roommate wasn’t about to kill him. Habit, he supposed.

Regardless, the fear was unwarranted, because Adrien was being dragged in for a hug.

The back of his shirt, already ruined by Steph, was bunched up with how tight she held onto him.

He didn’t seem all that surprised by this part, at least, returning her hold without the slightest bit of hesitation.

“Shit, man, I thought – I thought you were kidnapped or something!”

“I was.”

Her mouth dropped open in pure, unadulterated shock and horror.

“You know I can’t be hurt,” Adrien reminded her, smiling in a way that could only ever be seen as fond. It was a soft expression, surprisingly genuine on the god. “I’m fine.”

“That doesn’t matter!”

Aw, that’s kind of cute, Duke thought.

“You know I’m the only one that’s allowed to kill you,” she sniffled.

Nevermind.

“I know, I know. But if they’d found a way to hurt me, I would have reported it back to you as soon as possible!”

“Promise?”

“Of course,” he said.

She was quiet for a few moments before drawing back. “You’re too reckless.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not okay.”

Adrien huffed a laugh.

He finally let her go, craning his neck idly. It was a surprisingly normal, human gesture, and yet… it felt wrong on the god. There was something decidedly fake about it. Like he was doing it more because it was something he saw actual people do, not because his neck genuinely ached. “I’m going to go take a shower.”

“Thank god,” she said immediately, stepping around him with ease, finally giving Duke his first good look at Adrien’s fabled roommate.

Marinette Plethora. A student at the community college in Gotham. One who, by all accounts, didn’t exist. She had a few necessary papers, just enough that her existence wouldn’t be questioned in Gotham (which meant… basically a birth certificate, most places in Gotham did not care in the slightest if you actually existed, so long as you could become a cog in the corporate machine and/or give them money), but other than that she simply was not a real person.

Not that that was all that surprising, considering where they were.

The woman was wearing a green face mask, the rapidly-drying clay coating her skin making it easy to see the tiny wrinkles in her forehead. She wore an oversized shirt (it was clearly Adrien’s, based on the size, but it was anyone’s guess as to whether she had opted for it because she was missing him or because she was being petty over his disappearance) and, hopefully, a set of short-shorts.

She started to walk away, but was soon pulled back towards Adrien, the god giving her a Cheshire-like grin.

“Forgetting something?” he teased.

She gave him a flat look.

Adrien simply continued to grin at her, content, unnaturally still.

After a solid few minutes, she gave in and stood on tip-toes to give him a kiss on the forehead.

“I hate you and everything you stand for,” she grumbled.

He snorted. “I love you, too,” he responded, as if the two sentences were at all the same.

She rolled her eyes and walked over to the window, checking it over with a bored expression. “Thank god I didn’t break this on your giant fucking head, huh?”

Adrien gave a scoff, lifting a hand briefly to flip her off as he headed further into the apartment, assumedly so he could get that shower he wanted.

In the moment where his back was turned, her lips started to tug upwards into a kind of smile.

And then, when her clay mask tugged at her skin with the change in expression, she yelped and immediately started rushing after him. “Wait! Let me shower first! I need to wash this off!”

“Nooooo! You’re gonna take forever! I want some hot water for once!”

“I’m going to break out!”

“Sucks to suck!”

Duke heard the sound of fabric shuffling and someone hitting the floor (Adrien, if the little ‘oof’ sound he made meant anything) and decided he had had enough for the day.

It was getting late. His shift was over. Time for bed.

+++

Up next: :)

Trials and defibrillations masterlist

#trials and defibrillations #maribat #mlbxdc #mlxdc

5 notes · View notes