#MLXDC | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

olivia-anderson-fanfic · 1 year

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

porcelana-r0ta · 5 months

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

110 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 · 2 years

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

6 notes · View notes

marionkind · 2 years

Text

I posted 5,190 times in 2022

That's 2,734 more posts than 2021!

10 posts created (0%)

5,180 posts reblogged (100%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@socialjusticeinamerica

@stealingyourbones

@mikkeneko

@managerie76

@im-totally-not-an-alien-2

I tagged 39 of my posts in 2022

#dc - 8 posts

#ml - 7 posts

#unmaskedagain - 6 posts

#queue - 6 posts

#other ppls fic - 6 posts

#youtube - 6 posts

#mlxdc - 6 posts

#marinette vs santa - 6 posts

#murphy bed - 3 posts

#murphy desk - 3 posts

Longest Tag: 83 characters

#100% worth captivity as long as they give me enrichment and maybe a pair of bunnies

My Top Posts in 2022:

youtube

How To Build A Fold Down Wall Desk | DIY Murphy Desk

0 notes - Posted November 10, 2022

0 notes - Posted October 25, 2022

I just hit the 1,000 post queue limit today.

I wasn’t aware I was queuing up so much stuff.

0 notes - Posted September 11, 2022

Have you heard the narrator for Hulu's "Dead by Dawn"? Because I have and I am LISTENING right the fuck NOW and holy moly please, sir. I am but one smol creature, how do you make the word "digest" sound so ahhhhhhhhhhh. Low Low Low growly voice hnng

1 note - Posted October 15, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I was today years old when I finally figured out wtf people meant about TentaTodd. I’m still hung up on the fact that Dick has a mop on his head this whole arc. Forget Jason and his suddenly canonical tentacles, I will forever call this era of Nightwing as MopWing. Or better yet, Nightmop.

3 notes - Posted September 20, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #Youtube

1 note · View note

ggomos-maribat · 2 years

Text

[2/?]

Gunshots blare from the alleyway below Inari. It's rubber bullets against metal ones as Red Hood faces off with a group of criminals. The invisible vigilante narrows her eyes, analyzing each movement before she drops down.

They have Red Hood cornered. He reaches for his grappling hook while dodging blows and firing his gun. Inari stays far enough to avoid chaos but near enough to watch over it.

Red Hood aims and shoots at the last one but the angle is off. Inari extends her staff, making the bullet bounce off and hit the man straight on the shoulder.

Red Hood stops and stares. He lifts his gun and Inari swears she can hear the smirk in his voice. "My aim's really good tonight."

original post | prev

#maribat #mlbxdc #mlxdc #dc x mlb #maribat marinette dupain cheng #maribat red hood #maribat fanfic

366 notes · View notes

wheredostarsgowhenyoudie · 5 months

Text

Just want to share my favorite Maribat stories' links (not arranged in any particular order). :) :) :)

Yes. Because I am in that phase again lol

If you are the author, let it be known that you are awesome!

1) Taking Chances by Undercover_fangirl - This is a biodad Bruce Wayne story. Mari gets to Gotham and faces Joker, and voila - you have a dad and a chaotic set of siblings!

2) for us to collide by LadyLiterature - This is a Daminette story which I love love love love!! And the dynamic of the Miraculous team? AMAZING.

3) Stalker X Stalker by oliviaandersonisntmyrealnamelol - This is Timinette story. Caffeine deprived coffee addicts + kwami unapproved stalking tendencies = hilarious chaos XD

4) No, Mr. Wayne, You Can't Adopt Me! by ggomoz - This is a Marinette as Bruce Wayne's secretary fanfic. It is chaos and very good if you wanna laugh out loud!! XD They have no idea she's MDC and has miraculous powers. They wanna adopt. Damian wants her in the fam, but not by adoption.

5) Joint Filing Status by ew_selfish_art - This is a new fav Daminette. Surprise, surprise, turns out they're magically married. Both are as chill as fuck about it. The RobinxLB epic power couple we all want without knowing we want it OMG!!!! 🩷🩷

6) 1-800 Emergency Magic Management by ew_selfish_art - A very amusing Robinette one-shot in which the Justice League is trying to recruit the operator of a magic helpline from Paris. XD Nth read. Like seriously. LMAO

P.S. If you know any more hidden gems, please for the love of us, feel very free to reblog and add it to the list. If it's an old fic in AO3, I probably have read it but add it anyway. And if you know any new awesome fanfic, then do tag me. I would love you for it. Thank youuu!!!!

#maribat #timinette #mlxdc #mlb x dc #daminette #bruce wayne #tim drake x marinette dupein cheng #tim drake #damian wayne #team miraculous #robinette

301 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

jayphoenic · 1 year

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

125 notes · View notes

olivia-anderson-fanfic · 8 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

6 notes · View notes