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maribat-central · 7 months ago
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Do you happen to have any fics you could rec for someone who’s just getting started in the fandom?
Sorry for the extremely late reply :c Kinda got away from the fandom for a bit but there are some great fics I'd like to share with the class. Granted these are all my opinion and an AO3 since I have them saved there;
Tim's secret Weapon by Tired_Writing_Teach
Like You Couble Be Family by EthelPhantom
#SunshineOfGotham by sixtyeightdays
No, Mr.Wayne, You Can't Adopt Me by ggomoz
the reports associated with my existence have been significantly misconstrued by davidstennant
coup de foudre (came with a lightningbug) by newdog14
The Tailor by LittleInkling64
It's My Life by zambietrashart
Her Boys by joe_bobbie_o
These are miscellanious fics that arent't really romance leaning
Someone's Waiting For You / Mominette AU by ShivaVixen
Teleporting Into Your Life by Izanae
Crime, Love,and Ghosts (And Others Probably) by Thornrose270 (this one is actually dpxdcxml)
Bad news, Paris by BlueTee
#OnlyInGotham by Eatocrow
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intotherabithole · 2 years ago
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I finished my fan art for the last chapter of I Need a (hero) girlfriend by @lilavaporizer9000
This fanfic brings me so much joy. I look forward to every update.
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somestorythoughts · 9 months ago
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Fresh Pair of Eyes Vs Local Knowledge
I like reading Miraculous x DC crossovers and have recently been reading a lot of Danny Phantom x DC crossovers and something I noticed in the first that is also visible in the second is that, when the teen heroes are still fighting their villains, the basis of their interactions tends to be one of three things:
"A fresh pair of eyes is helpful" or "new people who aren't listen" or "where the fuck where you when we needed you?"
Because sometimes, the teen heroes do really need backup. They need a detective's help or emotional support or fighting advice or something, basically they're in a situation where the assistance of a more experienced hero is useful and the hero(es) in question aren't usually condescending about it.
Other times, the more experienced hero is interfering in some way. The way I've seen it in Miraculous is tends to involve the DC heroes trying to take over the situation or being grouchy when told that if they're going to be here they are going to damn well play by the rules. When I see it in DP it tends to be more along the lines of "the heroes came, listened to the wrong people, and actively attacked the heroes."
"where the fuck where you when we needed you?" is specifically for them asking the Justice League for help and not getting it for some reason (either never getting help or getting it much later).
There's overlap, I've definitely seen a couple fics where Ladybug/her team needs some help but they're very clear about who's running the show, and this is of course ignoring all the fics that happen after the main villain is taken down or when the teen hero in question is well established/retired/joining the League, I just thought it was interesting.
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porcelana-r0ta · 1 year ago
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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??????
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stars-obsession-pit · 11 months ago
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I’m not a MariBat shipper (I like the ML-DC crossover but I prefer Adrienette) but I just had a thought that’d probably work well as like a setup thing for that:
Oftentimes in this crossover—especially if the Justice League finds out about the Hawkmoth situation after it’s been going on for a while—the Parisian heroes will ask them to stay out of it for fear of a superhero getting akumatized and being too powerful to defeat.
But that’s (arguably) mostly just an issue for the heroes with preexisting powers. Unpowered heroes would still be dangerous, sure, but they’d be limited to whatever random akuma powerset they receive (which would be completely new to them) instead of having powers they’ve trained for years.
Thus, if the JL is trying to push for a compromise, they might propose sending some of the baseline-human heroes.
Which could easily mean the Gotham vigilantes.
And then maybe people would be too wary of Batman being akumatized (since he’s a full grown adult, has the most training/experience among the Bats, and his broodiness might be construed as making him more likely to qualify for akumatization) but still agree to a team-up with some of Gotham’s other vigilantes.
Thus allowing specifically just those teen heroes/vigilantes to interact and bond…
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unsupervised-meatsuit · 1 year ago
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Inconveniences, Cultists, and the Warehouse of Rejected Toys
Cross posted on AO3!
If there was one thought that Marinette could attribute to describe the entirety of this situation, it would be that Thursdays suck.
It is not the most commonly hated day of the week, since that dubious honor belongs to Monday, for rather obvious reasons. Since it is so universally hated, however, it never comes as a surprise when the bad things come out to play. Oh, there was a fire in the office next door over the weekend, and now the air conditioning smells like burnt rubber and brick dust? That's just Monday for you. A villain attack in the warehouse district caused a shipping delay and that package you ordered got lost somewhere? Disappointing, yet unsurprising. The subway is so packed that a sardine tin would be spacious in comparison? Well, that's the subway every day, so it doesn't really count.
Tuesdays and Wednesdays are just that, days. Nothing exciting, nothing awful. Middle of the line, going through the motions, monotonous. Whether trudging through or in the zone, things get done and nothing exciting happens. Fridays are, of course, celebrated as the finish line, the checkpoint in the marathon of life that says 'you made it! You can take a rest now'. The final stretch before the glorious work-free weekend. The one where you can go home with the comfort of knowing there are no alarms coinciding with dawns break, just waiting to sneak up on you too soon. No annoying coworkers waiting with their metaphorical talons and too-cheerful-to-be-real attitudes, ready to interrupt your flow at the worst possible moment. Fridays are the tantalizing breath of freedom, just awaiting for the clock to strike.
But Thursdays? Thursdays are the worst.
They are the day you always forget. The one that sneaks up on you, where you wake up with the inkling of hope and relief that the end brings, only to have the crushing realization that it is not, in fact, Friday. Like seeing a finish line on the crest of a hill in front of you, only to watch as the closer you get the further away it seems. The one where you cram every ounce of procrastinated effort into the projects you have been putting off until right before the deadline, wishing for nothing more than an IV drip of straight espresso into your veins, followed by a three century long nap.
The day where you get kidnapped by an evil cult and strung up from the ceiling next to an unconscious vigilante, simply for the crime of being a nice person in Gotham.
Or maybe that is just Marinette.
'Embodiment of good luck and creation my ass,' she thought bitterly, rope digging painfully into her elbows and just below her ribs. 'Oh yea, let's go to Gotham. The city is unbalanced and needs a Guardian to fix all of the curses. That is such a great idea. Nothing bad will happen! Well what do you call this then, Tikki?!' Marinette sighed, the feeling of pins and needles creeping down towards her bound wrists as she swung precariously some twenty-five odd feet above the concrete warehouse floor, trying to ignore the worry she felt being separated from the little deity. Beside her was none other than Red Hood; former(maybe? she's not sure) crime lord, gunslinging vigilante, and too freaking heavy for his own good. Seriously, for someone who uses firearms almost exclusively, there is no reason for him to be so damn muscular. Or tall. Completely unfair for someone to hog all the height like that. It's what got them into this whole mess to begin with!
Well- That wasn't entirely true, but still. If he didn't weigh so much, Marinette could have easily grabbed him and run from the masked, potato-sack-wearing, nonsense-spewing, second rate fanatic occultists before they even knew she was there. But no, Red Hood just had to be the size and weight of a small bear, and now they were both in this mess.
"I should have never gotten out of bed this morning..." She muttered despondently, hearing a groan come from the limp figure beside her.
"Son of a bitch..." Red Hood murmured, voice changer in his helmet distorting the words to be near incomprehensible. The following string of curses as he presumably opened his eyes and took in their predicament was much more audible, however. Looking down, Marinette couldn't even begrudge him the swearing.
The two of them were currently hanging from a catwalk suspended in between two of the six total concrete pillars and directly above where the aforementioned potato-sack-wearing cultists were busy drawing out chalk guidelines for some kind of complex ritual circle. She couldn't quite make out what it was meant to be yet, seeing as it was in the early stages, but she could assume that it wasn't anything good for their would-be sacrifices. They were really dedicated, too, not even glancing up at the vigilante that was giving his best impression of an angry drenched cat. One of them even had a protractor and was double checking all of the angles in the twelve pointed star. Clearly, whatever this ritual was meant to be, it was going to take a while to complete.
Red Hood clearly didn't appreciate the attention to detail, which honestly? Fair. But the way he showed his displeasure at the situation involved thrashing around in the cocoon of thick chains wrapped securely around his whole body. (Marinette was only a little bit jealous at the differing treatment, since if she had more than a single rope wrapped around her torso, it wouldn't hurt nearly as much, but also it would make escape harder.) The thrashing wouldn't bother her if it weren't for the fact that A) they were both tied to a rickety catwalk, and B) every time there was movement on said rickety catwalk, it caused Marinette to bounce around and dug into the already forming bruises on her arms and abdomen.
"Hey, could you cut that out?!" She snapped, wincing in pain. Her voice caused Red Hood to whip his head in her direction and freeze, "You aren't the only one here strung up like a pinata, and unlike you, I'm not wearing any armor. I would personally rather not be split in half and spew my intestines all over the place like a macabre birthday celebration, thanks!" There were several long moments of silence while he stared at her and she attempted to alleviate some of the pressure of the rope. She was unsuccessful, sadly, but at least she was no longer bouncing. After a few moments, the swearing started up again, much more vehement than the last time, though without the accompanying thrashing, thankfully.
Marinette huffed, turning her attention to the warehouse below, allowing him to get it out of his system. It was very clearly disused and permeated with the smell of dust, but not quite abandoned as she would expect. Various sizes of wooden crates were scattered and stacked all around the stained brick walls along with stacks of empty pallets and cardboard boxes. The center of the large building was a two stories tall square, held up by four concrete pillars fading into darkness and broken windows. The empty space was only broken by the catwalks that were claustrophobically close to the exposed, rusty rafters, and a disused... crane thingy on an I shaped track above the two truck-sized doors to the right. In front of and behind them were what she guessed to be offices with windows that overlooked the main floor and connected to the catwalks through discrete side doors. The bottom floor continued underneath the offices where there were stairs resting against the back wall, though they were barely visible through the deep shadows and pallets of stacked boxes.
Directly underneath them, the cultists had cleared out a large area and hung up bright florescent floodlights that cast stark shadows pointing down towards their try-hard craft project. They had a cheap table set up to the side covered in candles, chalk, various liquids, jars, and bowls of different white powders, which Marinette guessed was salt or bone dust or something of the sort. Oh, and rumbling minifridge full of blood bags. There was that, too.
"-toe-eyed shit monkey fuck-tard motherfucking piece of-" Red Hood was still going, but seemed to be somewhat running out of steam. Or different ways to say the same swear words. Or maybe breath, Marinette wasn't quite sure yet.
Down below, the cultists remained focused on their ritual. Or, at least most of them did. Only about four total were actually doing any drawing or plotting out, with exactly twelve seated a little ways away from the star's points, all meditating. There were three more that Marinette could see, and from what she could tell, they weren't very focused on anything work related, if the one holding the weird, green-haired doll was any indication.
Marinette squinted in concentration, calling on her connection with the Kwami to sharpen her senses and hear past the still-swearing Red Hood.
"-whole box full of the creepy little things." The one holding the doll said, her voice disdainful. I hereby name you Dolly, Marinette thought, eyes flicking to the medium sized crate she had pulled the doll from. It had some kind of toy company logo on it, though not one that she recognized.
"Why would you even go looking through those?" the other cultist asked, somewhat judgmentally. And I hereby name you Judgy.
"I was bored." Dolly replied flatly, inspecting the green haired doll in her hands.
"Aren't you supposed to be watching the sacrifices?" Marinette squinted, tensing slightly despite the flare of burning pain it caused, but the cultists didn't even bother looking in their direction.
"No, that is Mark and Jacob's job." She waved dismissively, not glancing up from the doll. 
"Ah." He paused for a moment, before letting out an exasperated sigh. "Who thought it was a good idea to put those two together?"
"No clue. Better them than me, though. I hate watching sacrifices. They always cry and yell at me, or try to beg their way out. It is so annoying. I'd rather just be bored." Judgy nodded in agreement, shifting his weight and crossing his arms. Marinette couldn't help but scoff quietly. As if.
"Well, at least you get to look through dusty crates and find creepy dolls this time." They both stared at the doll for a few moments as Dolly scoffed.
"Yeah, and that totally makes up for the fact that we are a day early. I had to call out of work for this shit." She said sending a small glare at the cultist with the red trim decorating their burlap 'robe' before looking back at the doll. Dolly turned the thing over in her hands before finding something on the back of it. "Oh hey, there is a switch here." 
Marinette could barely hear a tiny click as the switch flipped and the two went quiet as they waited for it to do something. Dolly shook it, but got no response aside from the sounds of chalk scraping concrete, plastic rulers clattering, the constant drone of the minifridge, and the sound of moving cultists that overlayed the faraway screeches and honks of the city outside the warehouse walls. The two(plus Marinette) waited to see what the doll would do for several more moments to no avail.
"Does it need batteries or something?" Judgy asked. Dolly opened her mouth to reply, but didn't get the chance as the doll's eyes lit up and laughed, long and loud, to the cadence of Judgy's voice. It was unsettling, and very clearly reminiscent of a certain clown. The way it echoed around the warehouse amplified the creepiness. It was somewhat comical how Dolly jumped and scrambled to flip the switch back off as almost everyone stopped what they were doing and turned their heads towards her in unison, though. Or, well, it would be if it weren't for the fact that these people had strung her from the ceiling up and were waiting to sacrifice her to whatever entity they worshipped.
Marinette was jolted out of her concentration by a throat being cleared, and her head snapped towards the source. Beside her, Red Hood was looking in her direction(or at her, it was hard to tell with the helmet) and very clearly no longer swearing.
"You done, now?" She sassed, glancing back at the cultists she was so rudely interrupted from eavesdropping on. Dolly and Judgy were looking sheepish(as much as one could look sheepish, wearing *that*) as most of the others glared at them(presumably). The one with the red trim on their potato sack seemed to be scolding them, and about half of the ones sitting at the star's points weren't looking, continuing to meditate unbothered after the initial interruption. Interesting.
"Yeah. Sorry about that." Red Hood said, sounding somewhat uncomfortable, though it was difficult to tell through the voice changer. Marinette didn't look back at him, scanning the warehouse for the two that were supposed to be watching them.
"No, it's fine. Not everyone can be cool under pressure." She said smoothly, squinting into the deep shadows on the ground floor, sharpening her vision with as much of her magic as she dared, though there weren't any people hiding that she could see. They will be somewhere that they can easily see us, but won't have to pay much attention...
"Excuse me?" He asked, taken aback. Marinette began scanning the catwalks above them, craning her neck and analyzing them for hiding spots. Or rather, for comfortable areas to hang out and pretend to be working. Clearly, these cultists have gotten too used to their routine. Which is a bad sign for all the previous sacrifices, but good for us.
"I mean, it's not every day that you get kidnapped and hung from the ceiling, so your reaction is understandable." She turned her head to the vigilante after determining that the lookouts were not visible, who was looking at her, the feeling of incredulity coming through loud and clear.  "Though I would have expected you to be a bit more used to this kind of thing." She spoke with a note of scorn in her voice. He was the one to lead the cultists outside her apartment in the first place. She was just trying to take out the trash when he flopped over unconscious right in front of her. And Red Hood was unnecessarily heavy. And muscular. And well proportioned. And tall. Is that a tailored leather jacket? It looks well made, even through the chains. He would make a great model, honestly. Broad shoulders, long legs, nice chest- Gah! No! Focus!
"Wh- it-, no I am not used to waking up chained to the ceiling." He said with a growl in his voice that she could almost feel in her chest. Marinette suppressed a slight shiver. Why do warehouses always have drafts?
"Really? Huh." She said absently, looking around the grimy and broken windows that lined the upper wall above the truck doors. Unloading dock, I think it's called?  "I got the impression that Gothamites were unfazed by stuff like this." Beside her, Red Hood scoffed, head turning to look below them and presumably analyze the cultists.
"Being kidnapped, sure. Happens all the time. Sometimes, it's even on purpose. Being tied to the ceiling, not so much." The obnoxious red helmet ticked to the side, eyeing her presumably. "What, is this normal where you come from?" From the small huff she could tell the question was clearly meant to be rhetorical, but Marinette answered it anyway.
"Eh, it's not my first time." she looked down at the ritual circle and 'bored' cultists who were completely ignoring the two, having opened up another box filled with what seemed to be... bags of gumballs? Interesting..  "At least it's just cultists and there is no swimming pool full of boiling soup." Marinette shifted, attempting to regain feeling in her fingers without putting her full weight on her bruised ribs. She had never wished to be transformed more than she did right now. Heck, she would even take the old onesie she used to call a superhero suit. She really did feel like she was about to be split in half. "Though whoever tied this rope did a much worse job than Kung Food." She said with a grimace, rocking from side to side and scooching the rope downwards a little bit. It stung, and the balance was a little more precarious now, and she just knew it was going to be hell on her back and core muscles, but at least it didn't hurt as much, so she took that as a win.
"... please tell me you are joking." Red Hood asked with a note of desperation in his voice. She grimaced, thinking back to the wafting steam and the smell of the since renamed 'Marinette Soup'.
"I wish I was." Marinette said, resigned. The thought was sweet in theory but thinking back, having a soup that you almost got cooked into renamed after you is pretty morbid.
"Jesus fucking Christ." He muttered with what she could only assume was mild distress. She knew the feeling.
"It's fine." She said, stretching out her fingers that wanted nothing more to curl in on themselves from the lack of blood flow. Marinette twisted her wrists and reached her hands in a way that just barely let her nails latch onto the poorly tied knot of the hemp rope. Seriously? This is just sad. I don't even need help from the Kwami to get out of this.
"It is very much fucking not." Red hood said pointedly while, assumedly, pinning her with a glare. Not that I can exactly go anywhere yet, anyway.
"I would shrug if I could, but as you can see, I am physically disinclined to do so." She looked at him with a sardonic smile, vaguely gesturing with her head at their general predicament. Eyes unfocusing, she concentrated on the feeling of the rope latched underneath her fingernails and started pulling at it.
"Could you be any more nonchalant about this? That is supposed to be my job." The deadpan response so monotone it sounded nearly robotic through the voice changer caused her to let out a small huff of a laugh. Ow, that hurt. Come on, you stupid rope, work with me here!
"Would you rather I be freaking out, screaming and crying about how we are going to die tragically?" She asked, pulling a face as one of her hands started cramping from the curled position. Ow ow ow ow-
"Absolutely not." Hood said without hesitation. So close... YES!
"Then I don't see what you have to be complaining about here." Marinette smiled triumphantly as she finally felt the rope around her wrists loosen, stretching the discomfort away as much as she could. Red Hood was silent for several long moments as she took in a few deep breaths, attempting to shake the few strands of hair that had escaped her high bun out of her face. Okay, wrists are free. Next are the ankles, then I can slip out of the rope and climb up onto the catwalk without falling to my death/serious injury in the process. Easy peasy. I just need to-
"You are something else, you know that?" He said in a tone that she didn't quite know how to name, distorted as it was. Marinette paused before she could start to move onto the next step, looking into the expressionless helmet of Red Hood that somehow still failed to hide that she had his full attention. She blinked several times, confused. "I don't think I have ever seen such a pretty smile, especially not in a situation like this." He clarified. Marinette couldn't stop the pink rising to her cheeks, and she had absolutely no idea what to do about the sudden flutter in her chest, but what she did know was that this hot vigilante/crime-lord had just(maybe?) given her what sounded like a compliment, and she needed to say something.
"Why thank you. You aren't too shabby yourself." Marinette said, realizing as soon as the words left her that her automatic response might have not made sense.
"... Thanks?" Red Hood said, tilting his head slightly. And then Marinette opened her stupid, stupid face hole.
"I mean- you have quite the impressive mouth on you." She said, followed by a long moment of silence as he stared at her. "WAIT- NO! I didn't mean that! I meant- well- I didn't not meant that, I'm sure your mouth is just fine- but not like fine fine, or it could be, I'm not saying it isn't, it's just with the whole bucket-head thing I can't tell either way so like- I'm not commenting on how nice your mouth is- I just- What I am trying to say is that your ability to use your mouth is what is impressive." The vigilante made a faint choking noise, and Marinette had approximately the half a second it took for her to register what she just said before wishing that she could cataclysm herself in the face. "NO! WAIT! NO! That's not what I meant! It was- talking- using mouth, but not like-" she started sputtering, words tumbling out of her without control, and the faint choking noise coming from Red Hood turned into full blown coughing.  "SWEAR WORDS!" She finally shouted, face bright red and a shrill note in her panicked voice echoing faintly through the warehouse. None of the cultists so much as looked up, clearly ignoring them, for which she was thankful. Oh my Kwami, kill me. Please. Right now. Strike me down without remorse.
Red Hood was gasping for air beside her in between wheezing laughter and coughs that rattled the catwalk above. Marinette honestly couldn't remember a time she had ever been more embarrassed. Not even in Lycée. Honestly, if Hawkmoth were still around, she might be in danger of being akumatized out of pure embarrassment. A high pitched whine escaped from the back of her throat as she glared at the vigilante, trying to hide her misery behind anger.
"Don't laugh at me!" She tried to sound intimidating, but it came out more petulant.
"Fuckin'," he said in between wheezes, "swear words!" If he were standing, rather than hanging, Red Hood would undoubtably be doubled over in laughter. As it was, he was curled up in the air in the shape of an unnecessarily beefy shrimp. Marinette was just thankful that he wasn't looking at her, or she might just explode. In an effort to distract herself, she quickly kicked her legs up behind her and began untying the rope around her ankles, putting her focus into remaining balanced rather than the laughter beside her. Unfortunately, it only took a few seconds and a couple precarious wobbles to free her legs, leaving the loop around her torso and the two free strands in her hand. Oh, and the Red Hood who was taking in deep breaths like it was an Olympic sport.
"I will fight you." She said, something burning in her chest as she glared at him.
"You're adorable." he said, getting his laughter under control.
"I will fight you, and I will win." Her scowl deepened as she glared into the lenses of his helmet.
"I appreciate the threat," he quipped back, voice filled with mirth, "but no offense, you look about as dangerous as a feather duster." Face still bright red and heart still pounding painfully, Marinette's eyes narrowed. Then, she smiled sweetly.
"I take full offense and I will make you eat those words." She said with the full confidence of a Ladybug.
"Uh huh. And how exactly are you going to do that?" Hood said teasingly, sounding as if he were just entertaining her. Her only response was to grin toothily, tip forward, and then fall.
Marinette allowed the precarious balance she had carefully kept for the past however-long it had been to fail and slide through the single loop of rope. The friction of the rough hemp fibers burned as it scraped along her arms, but it was worth it to hear his panicked gasp and the rattle of chains as her bent knees caught the rope(ow- that'll bruise), the only thing keeping her from plummeting two stories. She swung back and forth a couple times, building momentum as she allowed her muscles to relax for the first time since she got kidnapped and Red Hood hissed out something unintelligible from above her. With one last swing and a flex of her poor, abused core muscles, she sat up and grabbed the rope, climbing her way onto the catwalk with little trouble. She let out a small sigh of relief at finally having semi-solid ground underneath her feet. She hasn't exactly been afraid of heights since before her time as a superhero, but being in the air for so long get stressful, especially without her transformation.
"What the hell were you thinking- Are you okay?!" He asked somewhat frantically, the catwalk under her feet swaying as he twisted in an attempt to look up at her. No. That fucking hurt. She smiled before replying cheerfully.
"Of course I am! What, worried for my little feather duster arms?" She dropped the two rope pieces on the catwalk and then reached up to undo her bun which had become tragically loose from the kidnapping.
"Oh, ha ha." he muttered with a sigh of mild relief, "Point made. Okay, so it looks like there is an exit near the stairs which you can go through those offices to get to. It is really dark, so if you are careful and stick to the shadows, you should be able to get out and find a way to call Commissioner Gordon and tell him to-"
"Nope." She interrupted curtly, holding her hair-tie in between her teeth and running her fingers through her hair a couple times.
"-What?" Red Hood asked, tensing. Marinette grabbed the hair-tie before responding.
"I said no, I am not going to do that." She took a deep breath, shaking her head side to side to test the security of her new high ponytail. Good enough. "First of all, you weren't awake when they brought us in here, but those doors sound like hell itself trying to escape into the mortal realm via rusty hinges, meaning there is no way that I can get out without being noticed." Hood grunted disgruntledly, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Marinette took the opportunity too look over everything from this new vantage point, now just barely able to see into the dirty windows of the offices behind them, one of which had faint light coming from within.
"There are other doors and windows, you could find a way out." he said pointedly, head turning briefly to glance at the rope she had been hanging from previously. She couldn't quite see any movement in them, but the farthest one had a broken window, so she could only assume that the office with the light was where Jacob and Mark were.
"Second of all," she continued, "there are two cultists who are meant to be watching us, and no matter how negligent they are, they still managed to catch you. From what I have overheard, they have done this enough to have a solid routine, so they can't be all stupid. If I were to leave, we would only have a limited amount of time before they noticed." Down below, Dolly and Judgy seemed to have gotten bored of looking through crates and were both hovering over a phone while leaning against the foldout table, watching something. The third cultist that appeared to be on watch had tucked themself into a dark corner and seemed to be taking a nap against a pillar. Perfect, let's hope they stay like that.
"You would still have time to get away and call for help. The streets are a maze, they wouldn't be able to find you once you got away." Red Hood said with a light growl. Marinette could feel the catwalk move underfoot as he shifted slightly, swaying back and forth like a cranky pendulum. Her eyes flicked to each of the cultists down below, all looking consumed by their respective tasks.
"Yes, however, the chances of them just continuing with their ritual and ignoring the missing sacrifice are not great. They could panic and scatter, rush through and sacrifice you with a half done ritual, or any other not great outcome. So again, a time limit. Which brings me to point number three," She said, holing up three fingers. "We are currently in the warehouse district, which is a forever-and-a-mile walk away from anywhere I could find someone willing to lend me a phone. Even if I were to walk right out of here and they don't notice, they would have plenty of time to finish up their evil scheme and get the heck out of dodge before help arrives."
"Drive, then." Hood shot back. Marinette held back a wince, her eye twitching instead, thinking about the last time she drove a car. Or, tried to drive a car.
Marinette and Grandma Gina looked into the turbulent lake, drenched and covered in mud, listening to the slowly approaching sirens, smelling of burnt rubber and smoke. The previous panic fueled screaming echoed in her ears now that it was silent. Her Nona turned to her, pale and somewhat shaky, but with a smile on her face.
"I won't tell your parents if you don't."
"Deal."
"Do I look like I know how to hotwire a car? Or how to pick pocket someone's keys?" She asked rhetorically, already knowing what he thought she looked like. 'Adorable.' 
I'll show him 'Adorable.'
"Then," he said slowly, posture wary and tone frustrated, "What exactly are you going to do?"
"I already told you." Marinette replied, leaning down and looking directly into the glowing eyes of the Red Hood's helmet with a smile, "I am going to make you eat your words." Marinette didn't allow him to respond, standing in one swift motion and walking quietly across the rickety metal and towards the open archway of the offices behind them. 
Time to get to work.
Marinette was careful to keep her steps light an even, hand ghosting over the steel cable railing that ran along the side as she made her way towards the office with the intact, if filthy, window. She was fairly confident that was where the two cultists that were meant to be watching them, Mark and Jacob from what Dolly said, were hiding based off of process of elimination. Once she took them out, she could take her time with the rest since it will be less likely that they will notice her missing. With how adamant these cultists were about not looking up, she could almost think they were video game characters. The time she had spent hanging from that damn rope wasn't completely wasted, as she was able to put together the beginnings of a plan for how to do that without outing her superhero abilities or skills. Sure, what she had said to Red Hood wasn't *completely* truthful, as she was certain she could find a phone and call for help in ten minutes if she really wanted to, but...
"-no offense, you look about as dangerous as a feather duster."
That's not happening. She had something to prove.
Okay, so steps. She thought as she reached the wall of the office and creeping towards the window in a crouch, trusting the darkness and the cultists inattentiveness to hide her. First, take out the lookouts.
Marinette looked over her shoulder and out into the shadowed building, finding the darkest place from the perspective of the window and shifting herself into that space before slowly lifting her eyes over the dusty window ledge. Her gaze flicked quickly through the room, dimly lit by a small camping lantern on an old desk situated just in front of the door with a chair on either side. On the opposite wall was a couch where the two cultists were-
Marinette jerked downwards, flattening herself against the filthy brick wall with a newly bright red face. That was a lot of- Where did they get the- Okay! Not thinking about that! That's fine. This is fine.
"At least they won't notice I'm missing..." She took in several deep breaths, staring intently at the patterns of rust on the catwalk's railing. 
"I am never going to unsee that."
After a few long moments, Marinette crept her way around the edge of the office, through the arch and into the hallway. The door to the office the cultists were in was closed, *thank the Kwami*, but the empty one was cracked open. The stairs downward were straight ahead, swathed in darkness and shadows. There was less echo, and it was in general quieter in the hallway except for faint- not thinking about it. 
"Step one, focus on step one." She whispered to herself, straightening up and slipping through the cracked door into the empty office, careful not to catch her clothes on the door handle. This office wasn't as empty as the other one, and seemed to be much more dusty, though that might be attributed to the broken window more than anything. There was a desk in this one as well, though it was pushed against the wall on the far side with paper scattered all over the floor on front of it. Instead of a couch(Not thinking about it), this one had a stack of chairs, a duffle bag, and a hefty looking toolbox. Dumped dead center in the room was a frankly ridiculous pile of guns, knives, and what looked like a miniature version of a harpoon. In a much smaller pile next to it was her purse.
"Tikki!" She whisper-shouted, diving forward and scooping up the bag.
"Marinette!" the small Kwami excitedly yelled back, muffled through the fabric. Once it was opened, she whizzed through the air to hug her holder's cheek.
"Are you okay? Did anyone see you? It's not another Chloe situation, is it?" She blabbed with worry until the Kwami pulled back and smiled reassuringly.
"No. I'm okay, no one saw me." Marinette let out a sigh of relief, slouching where she stood. "Are you okay, Marinette?"
"A little bruised, but fine." She replied, examining her arms for a moment to see what was going to be a line of ugly bruises and some serious rope burn, before turning back to her friend with manic energy. "But, Tikki, I have been challenged!"
"Challenged?" She echoed with a tilt of her head and a sparkle in her eye.
"Red Hood thinks that I am 'as dangerous as a feather duster' which is frankly ridiculous- just because I am small does not mean I am not mighty!" Marinette said with a pout and a defiantly raised fist, to which Tikki giggled.
"So what are you going to do to meet this challenge?" the little goddess asked, floating higher in excitement. In response, Marinette bounced on the balls of her feet with a near feral grin.
"Here's the plan-!"
"Hey, Oracle, have you heard anything from Hood tonight?" Nightwing asked as he swung between two of Bludhaven's buildings and away from a foiled break-in. He was still catching his breath from the quick but brutal fight. He managed to leave unscathed for the most part, barring one lucky hit the woman with a crowbar managed to get on his bicep that left a shallow, if jagged, gash and was already forming a nasty bruise. It was going to make his night job rather unpleasant the next week or so, which wasn't great, seeing as he and Red Hood were meant to bust up a cult that had had been causing trouble tomorrow.
"Last I herd from him, he was chasing you through the house with a serving plate." Came Oracle's quick reply, the sound of clacking keys hiding under her flippant and amused voice. Nightwing rolled his eyes with a fond smile as he alighted upon the edge of a building, taking a moment to sit down and rest.
"Oh, har har. He was supposed to be doing recon for our bust tomorrow, I want to make sure he hasn't gotten himself in trouble." He said, settling down and kicking a leg out over the edge of the roof.
"From what I heard," Red Robin chimed in, "There was no 'our' about it. Hood made it very clear that he was going to go after them without you."
"Mhm," Oracle hummed in agreement, "I distinctly remember something being said about 'forsaken bonds of siblinghood' and that you are 'beyond dead' to him." Nightwing remembered that. He had been so excited at Jason actually referring to them as family out loud that he hadn't really paid much attention to what was actually said beyond that until afterwards, though.
"Oh, please. He was just cranky because he was too slow and I got the last of Agent A's cookies." Nightwing said with an eye roll. "He wouldn't go after a dangerous cult by himself just because of that."
"Are you sure about that? This is Hood we are talking about." Red Robin said skeptically. Nightwing opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off.
"Chatter on comms." Came Batman's gruff voice, silencing everyone. "Oracle, check in with Hood."
"Already done. His comm is off and all of his trackers are showing that he is in his safehouse on the border of the Narrows." She replied promptly, there was a pause as more keys clacked in the background.
"His security system is armed, too, with a window having been opened and closed at around eight forty-seven pm and no activity since." The silence between them was loud as the vigilantes digested the information.
"I'm on my way." Nightwing said gravely as he sprung up from his spot and shot his grapple gun in the direction of his motorcycle.
"Enroute." Batman grunted over the sound of revving engine.
"I'll try and track down his location." Oracle said, her amusement from before gone.
After a few seconds, Red robin chimed in with a deadpan voice.
"Even after all these years, you still underestimate the pettiness of this family."
Nightwing's sigh was lost to the buffeting wind as he swung down to the streets below.
Locking the two lookouts in the office was probably the easiest step of any plan that Marinette has had in years, being able to check that off after simply sliding a chair underneath the handle in order to lock the two inside. Thank all the Kwami I don't actually have to go in there and interrupt whatever it is they are doing... Still not thinking about it!
The next step, while still relatively simple, wasn't going to be nearly as easy.
Step One: Take out the lookouts, Check. Step Two: Gather Supplies.
Which means finding supplies, which means sneaking past the 19 remaining cultists on the main floor without being caught or seen. Simple as can be, but not exactly easy. Add in pilfering through and opening the many crates, some right next to the main area for the cultists? Not easy in the slightest. Thankfully, Marinette wasn't exactly someone to give up that quickly, and she wasn't alone.
There was a quick glimmer of light that burst through the dim room and a tingling feeling in her fingers as the summoning spell completed, burning up the small sticky note she had drawn on and replacing it with the inert foxtail pendant, dark orange fading to a white tip separated by five segments, hanging off of a delicate gold chain. As she pulled on the necklace however, its appearance changed to be purely silver with the segments disappearing, the bright glow of another Kwami appearing before her flashing through the shadows.
"Guardian." the Kwami greeted, bowing respectfully in the air before looking around with his bright purple eyes, taking in the dirty office.
"Hello Trixx." Marinette responded with a smirk, "Ready to cause some mischief?" The Kwami's ears perked up as he smiled brightly.
"I always am, Guardian! What did you have in mind?" He responded eagerly, following Marinette as she crept to the cracked office window.
"Okay, down there are nineteen cultists who we need to take down before they manage to activate their ritual and sacrifice the vigilante who I got captured with." she began, pointing out the shifting shapes moving through the harsh brightness of the floodlights and Red Hood, who was mostly obscured by the rusty catwalks and shadows. "We are going to need to get them all at once, or else we will be caught, and I can't transform without revealing my identity."
"I am happy to lend my Illusions to keep you hidden from their senses until it is time to pounce!" Trixx said eagerly, twirling around in the air, illusory sparks dancing in between his paws.
"Thanks Trixx, but I will be channeling your magic this time, we don't want another dancing Eifel Tower incident." The Kwami pouted, but agreed, diving into the inside of her jacket and joining Tikki in the small pocket dimension sewn in there. Marinette took in a fortifying breath, strengthening her connection to the two Kwami and feeling the magic course through her. She *probably* pull this off without it, but there was no way that she was going to let any opportunity pass her by. She promised Red Hood that he would eat his words, and she was going to serve them to him on a silver platter. With a final exhale, she turned away from the window and went to examine what she had in the room that she could use.
The first thing she checked were the drawers of the desk, pulling them open slowly to make as little noise as possible, despite the rusty ball bearings. It was well worth it too, for the sight that greeted her.
"Yes!" she exclaimed in a whisper, pulling out one of the three and a half rolls of duct tape and an unopened reel of fishing line, ideas already springing to mind. "This couldn't be more perfect!" she whispered with a grin, looking in the remaining drawers. Aside from the various bits of paper, she pulled out a container of thumbtacks and paperclips, six carabiner clips(two of them being broken), an unopened packet of yellow sticky-notes(she already had some light pink ones in her purse, but she wasn't going to pass up more), and an oily can of WD-40.
At the opposite end of the room, were the duffle bag and the toolbox, which aside from the pile of weapons that she assumed to be Red Hood's, seemed to be the only other potentially useful things here. Marinette started with the toolbox, finding a couple of hammers, a mallet, a huge red monkey wrench, some screwdrivers, a jar of assorted rusty screws and nails, and a thing of Allen wrenches. Out of everything, she only took the monkey wrench and set it with the other useful objects on the desk. Next was the duffle bag, which when she opened it, revealed itself to be full of a bunch of other duffle bags.
"Huh..." she muttered, staring at it and running her fingers along the hefty cloth. It's a good thing that it is cloth, and not plastic. Though this does feel like polyester, it won't have that crinkly sound whenever it is moved, so I can use it to transport things from the crates downstairs. With a definitive nod to herself she stood, dumping the extra bags on the desk and pulling the now empty bag's strap over her shoulder.
"Okay, here we go!" she whispered to herself before slipping out of the room and towards the dark stairs.
Jason didn't know whether to be amused, pissed, or suspicious, so for the moment he was settled decidedly on 'bewildered'.
The cult had been somewhat out of the ordinary from the beginning. The string of disappearances that led to him finding them were, sadly, not too uncommon. The cult aspect of it however, was a bit of a shakeup from the usual human trafficking, territory disputes, or straight up murder cases they normally take on. Just different enough to make it interesting. What *hadn't* been ordinary was the glowing tranquilizer darts that could go through his Bat-approved armor. Bruce was not going to be happy about that when he found out. Hell, Jason wasn't happy about it now.
All of his memories from that point on were fuzzy in that familiar way that could only be caused by drugs, but he remembers getting away. At least, he thinks he remembers getting away, but clearly he didn't seeing as he woke up dangling from the ceiling next to some tiny, blue-haired French woman.
A tiny, blue-haired French woman who Jason was stuck watching sneak around the shadowed edges of some warehouse with a duffle bag slung over her shoulder and a smile on her face, surrounded by murderous cultists.
He was surprised with the skill she moved around with. Despite her confidence, he had expected her to get caught near immediately, and was mentally preparing himself for a whole slew of situations that could arise from that inevitability. But, much to his chagrin, she practically waltzed right past the cultists without so much as a curious head turn in her direction. Her style of stealth was much different than what he was accustomed to. She didn't meld into the shadows like the bats did, but she moved silently and with a confident sort of grace, using her surroundings to their fullest. Her path around the edges were calculated, he could tell, keeping obstructions in between her and the cultists as much as possible. She even climbed over and across a few crates to stay out of the peripheral of the two occupied with their phones, keeping her weight on the corners and junctions to avoid making noise or breaking the old wooden boards. It was something that Jason himself wouldn't have been able to do(not that he would need to in the first place), and it spoke of either years of practice sneaking around, or a lot of talent. All in all, he couldn't help but be grudgingly impressed. Not to mention suspicious.
She was clearly more experienced in these situations than he first thought, even including that concerning comment about some ridiculous food based(and possibly cannibalistic, which is a red flag for multiple reasons) villain she mentioned, and the damn Bat Patented Paranoia that Bruce managed to instill in every one of his wards was coming to light. Who was she? Is she a threat? An ally? Or just some random girl with more skills than sense? He didn't know and that was bothering him, so he watched.
It's not like I can do much else.
And he had tried. Despite how easily she had slipped through the rope they tied her with and climbed up with a strength and fluidity unexpected from her tiny frame, Jason remained stuck in his swaddle of chains. After searching for his hidden weapons when he had first woke up and finding them missing, he had reluctantly reached for his backup comm, before remembering the small argument with Dick he had that led him to stupidly spitefully take on this cult by himself in the first place, as well as leaving his comm and trackers in a safehouse along with a rather heartfelt 'fuck you' note. So, there was no way for him to get out, no way to call for his fam- the bats. His whole escape rested on the shoulders of the four-foot-tall-at-best, blue-haired girl with a smile too carefree for Gotham's rough edges and baked-in soot. The girl who was currently carrying around an empty duffle bag doing god knows what as she somehow silently pried open a large crate with confident motions and said mischievous grin, as if there wasn't a cult of psychos one mistake away from catching her.
No, he wasn't worried about her. He was frustrated that he was currently damseled. There is a difference, Dick.
"I already told you. I am going to make you eat your words." 
And... maybe a little intrigued.
Though, despite his years of vigilante experience, time on the streets, growing up in Wayne manor, and his training with the League of Assassins, he had absolutely no fucking idea what she was going to do with a duffle bag full of Harley Quinn inspired rubber chickens.
It took nearly all of Marinette's willpower not to giggle with glee when she found the crates of rubber chickens in her search for the Joker-inspired dolls(Which, seriously, who's idea even was that??). They were about three crates full that she could identify, all with the same logo as the boxes full of creepy-laughing-fake-clown-things and they were all fortunately placed near-ish to the opposite staircase that she came down from. This side of the warehouse was more crowded, mostly covered in pallets of cardboard boxes and some crates interspersed throughout.
This is perfect!
It took her a few trips and a couple close calls to get enough of the rubber chickens up to the office without accidentally setting them off, but thankfully she didn't have to sneak around the main floor for it, using the catwalks above instead. Admittedly, she used a bit of Luck to avoid the overly creaky paths and get away with it, but no one else needs to know that. Gathering up the neon-green-haired-monstrosities was quicker since she already knew where they were, but a tad more difficult seeing as the boxes were just behind and to the side of Judgy and Dolly(She could practically feel Red Hood's stress while she was doing that). For that, she called on more of Trixx's power to stay as silent as possible. Next, she went though the boxes farthest from the cultists, sifting through them quickly and making several trips up to her designated storage office.
Step four of The Plan had gained some wonderful additions in the form of metal BB-gun pellets, jacks, bouncy balls, and the gumballs that she had seen the cultists looking at as well, but she was getting ahead of herself.
There was one thing that she almost passed up, though, but the smallest of tugs from her Luck caused her to take a second look.
And by the Kwami, is she glad she did.
If the abundance of warnings on the package hadn't peaked her interest, the bold lettered label she read afterward sure did.
'FAST ACTING, WATER ACTIVATED SUPER GLUE POWDER'
"Hehehehehehe" Marinette couldn't help but giggle near breathlessly from where she crouched, shrouded in the darkness of the stairs, holding onto the sturdy plastic container with an evil grin.
Bruce loved his kids, he really did.
If he for some reason, in some way, ever lost all of his memories or sense of self, he would remember that. If there were nothing else left of him, be it from mind control, magic, head trauma, or for whatever reason, having to sell his soul to some malicious entity, all it would take is just looking at one of them and he would know.
Bruce loved his kids.
He loved them when it wasn't easy. Through all the fights, be them together against criminals and supervillains, or against each other with harsh words and silent treatments. Through moral differences, his failures and communication issues. He loved them when it was stressful. Through all the injuries and sickness, tough nights on patrol, prank wars that cost him thousands of dollars in repairs or teasing that ends in brawls over the dining table. He loved them when it was easy, too. Family dinners, game nights, public outings, or just working quietly in the same space.
Bruce loved his kids, and wouldn't trade them for anything.
But sometimes?
Sometimes he really wished he could give them back.
"This is Red Hood speaking, bringing you your top of the hour weather report," came the all too glib sounding voice from the speakers mounted in the corners of the warmly lit room. "Be careful out there tonight folks, because it looks like the clouds are heavy with betrayal and the threat of tyrannical and patronizing vigilantes!" The fake newscaster voice called out, echoing around the bare off-white walls that were splashed with black paint. Some were splotches or droplets, abstract Rorschach-esque compositions surrounded by messy and dripping quotes. The section directly opposite the window where he stood read 'Et tu, brute?', surrounded by twenty-seven kitchen knives, stabbed into the drywall.
"Condescension is an epidemic, easily spread through contact of those near you, so he careful to keep limited contact as to not fall prey to it's effects," Hood's voice spoke, glee very clear in his tone. Next to the circle of knives there were two more quotes on either side; 'Stab the body and it heals, but injure the heart and the wound lasts a lifetime', and 'For there to be betrayal, there would have to have been trust first.' The second quote he recognized to be from the hunger games, though Bruce couldn't quite pinpoint the origins of first.
"If you are hearing this, you clearly didn't take my message to leave well enough alone seriously," the newscaster voice dropped, leaving Red Hood's sounding all too proud of himself. "To whom it may concern; consider all future collaborations null and voided, you are all dead to me, I never had a family, yada yada, etcetera etcetera. Any who enter my territory are personally liable for any and all actions or damages against them, including but not limited to inconveniences and humiliation via glitter, slime, paint, and dye. Please vacate the premises or suffer the consequences. Have a pleasant day."
"Oh, and tell Nightwing that he is a little bitch."
Bruce spent several moments to just stand in the empty apartment, staring at the pile of trackers on the table laid out in the shape of a middle finger. He sighed.
I love my kids.
Step two of Marinette's plan was coming together well, and she was close to moving on to the next phase.
The good part of hanging from the ceiling for longer than was even mildly comfortable was that she could see a lot with the bird's eye view. Many parts of her plan had gaps when she first started out, since she didn't know all of the materials available to her, but step two fixed that quite easily.
If there was one thing that Marinette had learned from her years as a Superheroine, especially one who fought a villain that preyed on people's emotions, it was how people reacted to sudden danger. Adrenaline does funny things to a person, taking perfectly rational thought and turning it into blind action. Fight or flight is a strong, instinctual reaction for all kinds of creatures, not just humans. When there is nowhere to run? You fight. When there is nothing to fight? You run. And when you run, what is it that you look for?
Step One: Neutralize Lookouts, Check. Step Two: Gather Supplies, Check(mostly). Step Three: The Path of Least Resistance.
There are four main exits and nineteen total cultists on the main floor. Two normal doors on each side underneath the offices that lead out of the building, and two large truck doors. With no real way to predict exactly who would go where, she has to assume that the best case scenario is each door having four or five cultists exit through them, and her traps being able to take out all of them at that number. Realistically, that isn't feasible. It could be all of them go through the same path, and most escape, or it could be that they scatter so far, they bypass the majority of her traps, leaving all of her work to be for naught. With how things were now, there were too many variables, too many obstacles, and too many unknowns. 
But this was Marinette. This was Ladybug. And it was time to do what a Ladybug does best; even the odds.
Marinette crouched on one of the catwalks that was hung in the direct center of the warehouse, just to the side of the cultists' ritual, her small travel sketchbook in hand. She was drawing out her plan and doing her best to ignore the prickling feeling of Red Hood's eyes on her as she marked out the best way to do this.
Two pillars on either side of the circle with the table and minifridge set nearest to the one towards the back side of the warehouse. The other one is down and to the side of the right most truck door, giving the least amount of room for error. To the left, further out and underneath the offices is the door we came in from, and it is the most likely exit that they would choose, seeing as it is at least marginally familiar, easier to open than the truck doors, and second closest. On the opposite side of the warehouse is the other normal door, which has the benefit of being in the darkest section of the warehouse and having a much longer path to set traps up on, but less likely to be chosen...
She leaned forward against the thin railing of the catwalk, staring down at the activity below and tapping her pencil against her chin as she thought. She heard a rattle of chains and couldn't help but lift her gaze to look at the source. The faintly glowing eyes of Red Hood's helmet stared at her intently from where he hung. She smirked at him, giving a little wave with her fingers, before an idea came to her and she looked back to the rightmost truck door.
If I block that one off and make a longer curved path from the side of the circle, it gives more of a chance to take out a few on the path. I could... Yes, that'll work.
Marinette quickly doodled a whole bunch of little boxes on her paper.
Then I could use the fishing line here and here, then all of the jacks, pellets, gum and bouncy balls on this side, then- hmm...
She looked up with narrowed eyes, examining all of the rafters and catwalks above where she was planning for the paths to go. Then smiled. That would work perfectly. Within another minute or so her sketches were finished and she stood, feeling giddy to see the end results of her plan. Before turning back to head down she looked again at Red Hood's intense stare, and gave him a wink.
Marinette spent the next half an hour moving boxes from one pile to another, shifting crates, and pushing pallets to create solid looking barriers, all while trying to remain as silent as possible, and there had only been a couple hiccups along the way. Along with a couple interesting discoveries. The first had been while she was creating the longest path, creating a good number of empty pallets for one of her planned traps.
Marinette had stopped as she brushed up against a solid feeling thing wrapped in plastic, and took a moment to examine the pallet next to her. It was hard to see in the dark and with the little light there was reflecting harshly off of the plastic wrap, so it took her a few seconds to figure out what it was she was looking at. Two adjacent pallets stacked taller than she was(Not that that was difficult, but good luck to whomever mentioned it cough cough Red Hood), completely made up of heavy paint cans. Marinette looked around, noticing that the path she had been making came directly toward the paint can pallets. There was no way in hell that she would be able to move them out of the way, let alone without being noticed, but... She looked up at the catwalk directly above, to the sides where she could curve the path around the bend and at the conveniently placed pillar, and back at the straight stretch of space she had been making. She smiled as another trap added itself to her list.
The second discovery was while she was clearing the shorter pathway towards rightmost door. To counteract the small amount of distance she had to work with, she decided to split this one in half with what was essentially an island of boxes that tapered off just before the doors. She was doing the shorter path first, despite it being closer to the cultists, because where the longer path was meant to go was filled with heavy crates of what she thinks are car parts which, for some reason, smelled faintly like smoke. Add the fact that Nappy was napping against the pillar over there, she didn't want to risk getting found this early. Needless to say, she was working extra hard to make as little sound as possible.
Marinette's heart had leapt into her throat when something shifted under her foot with a faint metal clank sound, very clearly not the solid concrete ground she had been expecting. Her head snapped up as she froze, straining her ears and glancing around her hidden spot in the shadows to determine if anyone heard. She was still for several long moments, sounds of the cultists washing over her, before determining that it was safe. With careful movements and a momentarily stronger draw on Trixx's power, she moved back slowly. Looking down, she found a slightly warped metal plate that was about the same size as her with a handle in one side. Curiously, she shifted the box she had been moving out of the way and gently pulled the metal plate up.
A shadowed abyss. An all consuming void. A dark, dank hole.
It was a maintenance tunnel, right in the middle of her path.
Marinette gently set the metal covering back down, mind racing. What could she do with this? It was much too good of an opportunity to pass up, and thankfully, she had an idea. Near the back of the warehouse, she could remember seeing a pile of cloth tarps. She could use those if she could just find something stronger than the fishing line...
An idea popped into her head. Very likely a bad idea but... well, she's sure Red Hood couldn't be too mad about her taking apart his weird harpoon-gun if it is to save him from being sacrificed, right? He probably has extras anyway.
She glanced up at the vigilante, then went back to moving boxes with a quiet snicker.
Jason still had no fucking idea what this woman was doing, and it was stressing him the fuck out. His escape rested solely on the shoulders of a woman playing high stakes ring-around-the-cultist instead of calling the cops like any sane person would do!
Jason wasn't as stupid to think that she couldn't have found a phone like she claimed. In face, he was certain she already had one in her purse, which, had to be some kind of pocket dimension to fit all that shit inside of it. Why would someone carry around a whole ass sketchbook and unopened roll of fishing line of all things?
(Jason was ignoring the fact that he knew several people who would, could, and have carried around that and much weirder. In all honesty, he just wanted something to be annoyed about. It was cathartic.)
It had been about an hour or so since she practically skipped her way out of being kidnapped like it was no big deal, and he had spent it with nothing to do but become more appalled and concerned by the second. If it weren't for the fact that he was watching this happen live and in the flesh, he wouldn't believe some of the stuff she managed to get away with. 
The blue-haired woman(he really needed to find out her name) had nearly gotten herself caught already. Not by climbing up one of the support pillars like a spider which the ones on watch missed by conveniently turning away from at the right moment, or making a frankly ridiculously sized pile of boxes in front of the truck door which the sound of was drowned out by the fridge seemingly having a mechanical seizure, or even moving a crate right fucking behind two of the cultists who somehow didn't notice because of a supposedly funny video on their phones! No, she almost got caught by a fucking sneeze.
She had been picking up some pile of cloth from a dark corner that she was undoubtedly going to use for some weird-ass thing that would make perfect sense well after he finally managed to finally get the fuck down and out of this god damned warehouse. But, from his vantage point, Jason could see that in getting so comfortable moving around in enemy territory(helped by the fact that she must be the luckiest person in Gotham. Seriously, share some of that with the rest of us, would ya?) the blue-haired woman had gotten complacent.
He winced as the fabric slipped from her fingers and sent a massive cloud of dust right into her face. Both he and the woman tensed as a long moment passed, Jason in anxiousness, while the woman seemed to be winding up, holding her hands tightly over her face. Then, she sneezed, full body convulsing and letting out a squeak that even he could hear from his vantage point.
…that was adorable.
One of the cultists blow looked of from their phone and looked in the direction of the noise, then asked their partner something.
Oh shit-
"Hey, did you hear squeaking?" Dolly asked, head raising from where she was hunched over her phone. Marinette felt panic rising as she dropped into a crouch as fast as she could, pressing her side into the heavy crate beside her, holding her nose and blinking through watery eyes, the dust making her entire face feel as if it were being attacked by tiny, sword-wielding specks.
"No? What are you talking about?" Judgy responded, looking up from his phone, pausing some video that she could faintly hear playing through their earbuds. Marinette's sinuses stung and eyes watered as she took deep breaths through her mouth, full body seizing several times with the force of holding back the sneezes. She made as little noise as possible, slowly crawling around the edge of a box to be out of sight of the cultists. Owowowow, my everything-
"Dude, are you deaf? That sounded like a mouse getting stepped on."
"Why do you even know what that sounds like?"
"I had cats as a kid."
Taking one hand away from her face, she pressed it to the ground to help her do an awkward crab walk further down the line of pallets to a mostly empty one that lead to an enclosed area where she could die in peace.
"So you've stepped on a mouse before?"
"No I- just- shut up and come check it out with me."
"Hell no, I don't want to see any mice. They're like, the size of rabbits in this city."
"Those are rats you fucking dumbass-"
Marinette crouched next to the pallet, taking more careful deep breaths and wiping the tears from her eyes. She watched carefully from her place in the shadows until they were both fully turned away. She was mostly obstructed by boxes but not willing to risk it. After what felt like an eternity, but was likely just twenty seconds or so, her chance came in the form of Dolly opening a box. She practically dove through the gap left for her and curled up on the floor for a while, recovering her senses as Dolly and Judgy talked. Marinette was only half paying attention, lamenting the existence of dust and wallowing until her half-formed bruises stopped stinging, when the shifting of cardboard and something Judgy said caught her attention.
"That is an unholy amount of glitter."
Marinette paused, a grin pressing against her hands.
I take it back. Worth it.
Marinette can't say that she had ever been particularly talented at sneaking around. It just never came naturally to her. Disguises and hiding in plain sight? That's just like an extension of sewing or acting, easy peasy. Hiding? Sure, she's great at picking the right spot and fitting in tiny spaces, it's just an extension of luck and strategy. Sneaking? That's a different story all together.
That isn't to say that she is bad at sneaking, she's just not talented at it. It means that every bit of skill she has was hard earned through extreme situations and years of practice. Being a superhero made her learn a lot of things, sink or swim style, with no safety net to fall back on. So, despite how... unusual and high stakes this situation is, Marinette isn't quite out of her depth yet.
That's what she told herself at least, standing fully upright with a wooden pallet hanging from her shoulders as she walked with it to a dark corner of the warehouse where another fifteen wooden pallets lay stacked, silently begging the universe that none of the cultists look over at this exact spot. Of course, she planned for this particular trap to be set up just before the leftmost exit, meaning she was as far from the cultists as she could be and had many obstacles in between them, making it very unlikely to be seen, but still. The chance was there.
Luckily, this was the last pallet she needed to set up this trap in particular, so she didn't need to haul any more all across the place. And extra luckily(Thanks to the magic she borrowed from Tikki and Trixx, no doubt), no one saw her walk around the edges of their circle and through the now complete pathways. Well, no one except Red Hood, who had been staring so hard at her this entire time, she wondered if he was trying to spontaneously develop the ability to shoot lasers from his eyes. Or maybe telepathy so he could yell at her for 'unnecessary' risk taking, she could only guess.(Well, he may have a point about the risk taking, but there is no way in hell she would ever say that. She was doing this to prove a point, practicality be damned.) She ignored him, as she had been doing since the beginning, setting the pallet down as quietly as she could despite the two stacks both reaching above her head. After a moment to breathe and admire her hard work, she pulled out the roll of fishing line and her extra pair scissors, tying the two stacks of pallets together and then working her way back through the slightly curved path until she reached the pillar.
Trap list;  Web of Ouch, Check.  Series of Unfortunate Tripwires(1), Check.
Onto the next!
Time flew by as Marinette gleefully set up the rest of her planned traps. A grapple gun, disassembled for its wire, and a cloth tarp carefully placed in front of a slick patch of WD-40. A block of wood suck in the opening mechanism of the truck door and a huge, precarious pile of various sized wooden crates that really tested the limits of her Tetris skills. A person-sized mat of duct tape woven together and placed sticky side up after another Series of Unfortunate Tripwires along the winding path to the leftmost door. A wooden wedge carefully positioned underneath the back edge of the two huge pallets of paint cans to slightly tilt them forward, and another paint can tied to the I-beam above and held to the underside of the catwalk by a thin string. Boxes filled to the brim with bouncy balls, gum balls, BB gun pellets, and metal jacks tied above two of the four exit pathways, a stolen steel-toed boot filled with rocks ready to swing at the turn of a handle. And, her personal favorite so far, a wooden plank positioned just above the cultists' plastic table and mini-fridge, piled with the superglue powder and the wonderful addition of rainbow glitter.
She had managed to test the superglue powder on Nappy, using it to fuse his clothes to the concrete he was resting on, and it was wonderful. There is no way that he is getting up with his clothes still intact. She kind of felt a little bad for the ones who are going to get this dumped on them, but oh well. She's sure the hospital will take care of it.
Probably.
She had managed to find a working water spout and long hose, complete with attached nozzle, that would reach all the way to where Red Hood was hanging, so that was one less thing for her to worry about doing herself. The last thing she set up was the discount Joker Dolls and the Rubber chickens while sitting in one of the disused offices. The whole room had become a sort of base of operations, and looked just about as chaotic as the end product of her plan was going to, but Marinette didn't care all that much. To get the effect she was going for just right, she had to be very careful in how she went about it. Packing in the rubber chickens at the bottom of the crate as precisely as possible then slowly lowering heavy bags of all the black and red glitter she could find to make the chickens stay in their deflated state. She carefully poked holes in the tops of the bags with one of the thumb tacks she had found, before carefully switching on all the joker dolls and placing them in the box.
Marinette will admit to using a lot of magic to make sure this step didn't go wrong, but once the four boxes were attached at their points on the catwalk and connected to her activation pull cord, she couldn't help the little giddy happy dance. It was ready!! The only thing left was letting Red Hood know his part, then the trap is set!
Jason wanted to throw his previous resolve to just wait and see how things turn out through the fucking window, because this was getting ridiculous. Patience has never really been his thing, which is becoming more and more apparent to him the longer he is forced to watch the sheer, unadulterated audacity on display.
He will admit to being mildly entertained in the beginning, watching the woman doing whatever the hell it is that she's doing like it was some kind of soap opera. When The Sneeze(TM) happened, he had been near certain she was caught, but seeing as she somehow had to be the luckiest person in the whole god damn world, she got away scot-free as the two cultists with the same skill level and attention span as low level videogame characters got distracted by industrial sized bags of glitter.
Which of course she later took to use for whatever unholy Rube Goldberg Machine she was making, alongside with a mysterious white powder that came from boxes absolutely covered in warning labels.
But the craft herpes and unprecedented luck were not what made him want to scream at her from two stories up and eighty feet away, cultists be damned. No, that urge came from the very familiar line of cordage she had looped through some kind of tarp and tied in knots, knots!! She took apart his grapple gun and used it for some kind of dirty picnic blanket! HIS FUCKING GRAPPLE GUN! The AUDACITY! He was fuming, glaring as she wrapped a hose over her shoulder and started trekking up the stairs and over the catwalks towards him. 
Finally!
"My fucking grapple gun?!" Red Hood hissed with indignation as soon as she was withing earshot, if barely. Marinette huffed and rolled her eyes, adjusting the hose wrapped around her shoulder to let more slack down.
"Well hello to you too." She said, tone filled with sarcasm and sass in equal measure, but internally she was beaming. He's not ruining her good mood when she is so close to success. She gently laid the hose wrapped around her shoulder down onto the catwalk as she crouched, careful not to make any suspicious noise. Not that the cultists would be likely to look up even if they heard it(After being subjected to the eye-searing glare of the floodlights herself, Marinette didn't exactly blame them, though still...), but it doesn't hurt to be careful.
"You took apart my fucking grapple gun?!" He repeated, voice inching higher. Clearly, some people don't think the phrase 'better safe than sorry' applies to them. She looked up at the rafters, rolling her head back in mild annoyance, as she drew on more of Trixx's power to muffle their conversation before taking a dramatic pose and poorly mimicking Hood's voice.
"'Oh, hi Marinette, thank you for risking your life to save me from being sacrificed by these scary cultists, I really owe you one.'" She shifted her stance and changed back to her own voice. "'No problem, Red Hood, I'm glad you understand that sometimes sacrifices must be made for the continued freedom of the innocent.'" She crossed her arms and looked pointedly in the faintly glowing eye of the Vigilante's helmet with a slight pout. She couldn't see it, but Marinette imagined that he took a split second to blink.
"Was that a pun?" Marinette tilted her head, thinking back over her words before silently grinning. "So not only do you take apart my god damned grapple gun, you fucking pun at me about it?!" Marinette chuckled, uncrossing her arms and going back to carefully untangling the hose.
"You can get another one, cant you?" She asked flippantly, Red Hood grunted in displeasure.
"Ugh... Yeah, but that is so inconvenient." If it weren't for the voice modulator, Marinette would *almost* call his tone petulant, but for now she simply thought of it as pouty.
"Welcome to the club." She responded, to which he huffed.
"What, the club for inconveniences and cultists?" She could hear the smirk in his voice, and had to hold back her own.
"Yep." She responded cheerfully instead, "Meetings every Thursday in the warehouse of rejected toys."
"Why Thursdays?"
"Because Thursdays are the worst day of the week." She said with certainty, staring off into the middle distance as she remembered all the bad things that happen on Thursdays.
Well, at the end of it all, this might not end up being one of the bad things after all...
"Isn't that supposed to be Monday?" Marinette rolled her eyes and huffed in exasperation before shaking her head.
"I'm not going over this again." Red Hood leaned his head back, seemingly nonplused.
"Again?"
"Anyway," Marinette continued, cutting him off from speaking further. "I have everything ready except for this one last thing, which I will need your help for." Hood straightened(as much as he could anyway), as if remembering something and his voice pitched slightly deeper in a commanding kind of way. As a former superhero herself, she was very familiar with it.
"Yeah, actually, I'm going to need you to exp-"
"Shush shh shh." Marinette said, waving a hand at him while distracted with straightening the rest of the hose and turning the nozzle to 'shower' mode in preparation to lower it to him. Despite this, she could feel the affront radiating off of the vigilante. She fought down a smile as she continued. "Don't interrupt people, its rude."
Red Hood made a strangled noise, like he was trying to start several different sentences at once but nothing managed to make it past the first syllable, very effectively cutting off his demand for explanations she absolutely wasn't going to give him. She wished that she could see what his expression looked like right now, it would keep her giggling for weeks.
"Okay, so I don't know how much you were paying attention-" That's a lie, she knew he has been watching her like a hawk this whole time, "but you see the boards I set up with the piles of white powder and glitter above their supply table?" she asked, pivoting on the balls of her feet to look at him, wrapped in chains and hanging above a half done ritual circle.
"Yeah?" The word sounded like he wanted to growl it, but was too off kilter to fully manage. She held back a laugh, but couldn't help the smirk that slipped through.
"Well." She said, holding up the hose next to her head for him to see, "What I need you to do, is spray water on the cultists that powder drops on." She finished with a sunny grin. There was silence for several long moments as they stared at each other, sounds outside their little bubble left ignored. Marinette didn't falter, expression as solid as Hood's helmet. When he finally spoke, it was loaded and laced with emotion and demand.
"Why."
Marinette blinked and tilted her head. There were a lot of ways that she could answer him, ways to interpret what exactly he was asking about. Why the water, why him. It could be why she insisted on being so... Cavalier about this whole situation, or why she stuck around to help instead of running. Or, most likely, it could be why go through all this trouble? Why spend hours setting all this up when a single phone call would have gotten them out of this mess in minutes? And yet...
She felt the magic in her chest swirling, Luck and Misfortune dancing across her shoulders. Creation and Destruction chasing each other through the blurry seams of the world around her. Her connection to the Kwami hummed in her ears, and she felt the Balance on the verge of a Shift. Her words here could change the Fate of this city. A small action could tip the scales of Order and Chaos.
No pressure.
"Because," she said slowly, earnestness in her eyes as she stared through Red Hood and into the Destruction and Misfortune clinging to him like leaches, tainting and feeding on the Hope and Safety in his Soul. Magic seeped into her voice, spreading through her like invisible veins of sunlight and guiding her words. "When life takes you down a path that gives nothing but blood and darkness, the only way to make it to the other side is to create your own light."
She got no response, the vigilante seeming frozen by her words, staring intently from behind glowing lenses. She herself took a few moments to collect her thoughts as the Magic dissipated, the feeling of Balance fading to the background, leaving behind no indication on if she said the right thing. 
But she did, she knew she did.
With a comforting smile loaded with memories of long nights, suppressed feelings and more responsibility than any child should ever have to shoulder, she reached down and handed him the hose. He took it automatically, still processing her words. Marinette stood to leave, before looking over her shoulder and saying,
"Enjoy the show, Hood." She smirked at him, turning and walking away. "Maybe you'll learn a thing or two about how dangerous 'feather dusters' can be."
"I got something." Oracle's spoke suddenly through the uncharacteristic silence of the coms.
"Report." Batman ordered, the speed of his reply being the only indicator of his worry, but after knowing him for so long Oracle could read it very easily. Keys clacked rapidly under her fingers as she hacked into phone satellites and pulled up tracking software.
"A phone call, asking specifically for Commissioner Gordon." She paused for a moment, skimming over the auto-generated transcript from the audio file.
"Hn." Batman grunted impatiently. She could almost feel his signature stare through the computer.
"Hold your horses." She muttered quietly, speaking up again shortly after as several blue dots started appearing and disappearing on the map of the warehouse district on her other screen. "Someone called in to report cult activity and kidnapping approximately two minutes ago."
"Is it Hood?" Red Robin asked, voice calm if slightly winded. A quick glance at his body cam footage showed him finishing up a fight with a couple muggers.
"It seems likely," she said, refocusing. "The video feeds I managed to find earlier put him near the reconnaissance point N gave me before he disappeared, and the call claims two people were kidnapped." Her eyes narrowed at the screen, the tracking software taking somewhat longer to pinpoint the origin of the call than normal, only giving her the general area, but...
"But?" Nightwing interrupted, much more subdued than earlier in the night. Barbara smirked a little at his words aligning with her thoughts. She started combing through traffic camera feeds from the estimated time of the kidnapping to pinpoint the location manually as she spoke.
"It was a woman with a French accent who called it in, and from the sound of the audio, she was suspiciously calm. Almost excited sounding, even." Barbara frowned, finding a suspicious looking beat-up brown van and several cars all driving to one warehouse approximately 3 hours and 28 minutes ago. "There was no mention or description of who exactly the kidnapped people were, though the caller implied she was one of them." There were no cameras pointing towards where they parked, and any security the disused warehouse had was either completely broken on or a closed circuit. She started back tracking the path of the van while she ran the license plates she managed to get from one of the higher quality traffic cams.
"Think it's a trap?" Red Robin asked. She hummed, chewing on the inside of her cheek for a moment. She started looking into the warehouse's utilities, searching for any any weirdly high power draws that would indicate a villain lair, but didn't find anything on that scale.
"I'm sending you the address, B." She said quickly, inputting it to the Batmobile's navigation system before answering Red. "There's not enough evidence to say, but I don't think it is a trap, exactly. All the information we have about the cult from previous reconnaissance doesn't indicate them being a setup, and the call, despite specifically mentioning the Commissioner, was for the police, not us." She checked the rout on the Batmobile's map against hers, looking it over for roadblocks.
"But it is suspicious." Red Robin replied, a calculating edge to his voice.
"But it is suspicious." She confirmed. Construction blocked off the block with the most direct route from Batman to the warehouse, looks like a fire in a machinery overlay facility that took out a corner of the building. The traffic cones and interspersed equipment would be little obstacle for Bruce the Broody Dad-Bat, though.
"Enroute, eleven minutes." Said the aforementioned Overprotective Flying Marsupial. Oracle looked at his tracker.
"Take a left in two blocks and you'll be there in eight." She typed in several commands and a new path showed up on his map. "Careful for the piles of bricks." A flash from another screen caught her attention and she turned her head.
Ah, good.
"Red, I'm sending you the address of where it looks like Hood was taken from. N, I'm sending you files for the owners of the cars that the cultists used. None of them have been reported stolen, so see if you can confirm or find anything incriminating we can give to the police." From their body cam footage, she could see Red pulling out his grapple gun and shooting off while Nightwing quickly looked through his wrist computer.
"What would we ever do without you, O?" Nightwing asked with a laugh, the first one since Hood turned up missing.
"Die, probably." Red Robin responded as he leapt off of a building. Oracle snorted.
"Probably." She agreed
Marinette was in position, crouched behind the cultists' table of junk and fridge of dubiously sourced blood. All of her traps were set and ready to go, the few she needed to activate all connected back to this one spot. She went over her mental checklist with a feeling of satisfaction.
Step One: Neutralize Lookouts, Check. Step Two: Gather Supplies, Check. Step Three: The Path of Least Resistance, Check. Step Four: Traps, Check.
It was a simple plan, though by no means easy. The bruises and rope burn had made friends with the muscle fatigue and aching joints from all the crawling, climbing, and carrying that she had done to get to this point. The close calls that made her heart race with adrenaline bled into giddy anticipation for the payoff. Finally, the culmination of all of her hard work was here.
Step Five: It All Falls Down.
She looked up, past the eye watering glare of the floodlight and directly at Red Hood. With squinting eyes and a toothy grin, she shot him a thumbs up. After a moment, he responded in kind, holding up the hose. Marinette looked back down, blinking a few times to clear the spots from her vision and then steeling herself with a deep breath.
Go time.
Creeping forward, Marinette reached the extension cord that powered the mini-fridge. The very same mini-fridge that filled the warehouse with the constant gurgling drone of an appliance on the edge of complete and utter non-function. With a quick and simple yank and a careful dive back behind cover, the warehouse suddenly descended into silence.
"... The hell?" One of the cultists that had been drawing runes into the edge of the circle muttered, looking up at the sudden quiet, quickly followed by the other three.
"What happened?" Dolly called from the other side of the circle, voice echoing as she stood up from where she rested against a large crate with Judgy.
"The fridge just turned off." Drawing Cultist number two said, setting down her protractor.
"Well no shit-" the third one said, before being cut off by the one in the red-trimmed potato sack.
"Figure it out without disrupting meditation, lest our hard work go to waste." He said in an excessively haughty voice that gave her flashbacks of a certain blond. Marinette couldn't see their faces, but from their posture she could deduce that the four drawing cultists and Dolly weren't too happy about this guy. If she had to guess, it would probably be because his version of 'hard work' consisted of sitting with his eyes closed and bossing people around.
Oh well, that's what you get for being in a cult that kidnapped people, I guess.
The four Drawing Cultists made their way over, two stopping next to the table, one going directly to the fridge, and the last hung back with their arms crossed, just beside one of the meditating cultists. Marinette shifted, hand wrapping around the first fishing line, pulling it until it was just taught.
"Hey, who unplugged-" the cultist never got to finish their sentence, as Marinette *yanked* the fishing line and four crates balanced on top of the catwalks above tipped. Then spilled...
Then it all fell down.
----
Jason had never been big on the Internet. Sure, it was beyond useful for investigative work, but from growing up poor, to living on the streets, to being dead, there wasn't much time for him to get immersed in 'internet culture', as Tim called it. But, he did remember one of Dick's attempts at 'brotherly bonding night' where he spent several hours putting up with far too many compilation videos meant to 'catch him up on what he missed while dead'. He remembered them, at this one very specific moment, because of the one 'Vine' Dick showed them of a rubber chicken falling off a roof. It had been mildly amusing at the time, enough keep him around longer than he otherwise would have stayed. He had even laughed a little, and made a joke about it being accurate to what Dick sounded like when pushed off of high places. The responding squawk from his adoptive brother proved his point perfectly, to the amusement of the rest of the room.
Jason was not laughing now.
If he had been asked before to imagine the bone chilling sound of hundreds of screaming rubber chickens falling through a warehouse like an unholy rain, nothing would have come close to the reality. He doubted anything could come close to reality; the single most unsettling sound he had ever heard freezing everyone in place with held breath as the screaming and thwaps of rubber hitting concrete stopped. That was, until the dolls activated.
From inside the dispersed mounds of toys and clouds of glitter slowly spreading over the floor in a way that reminded him of fear gas, more pairs of red eyes than he could count lit up like beacons, followed by laughter.
Screaming laughter.
Jason knows that if he wasn't hanging from chains at this moment, he would either be running or shooting. His fist clenched around the hose in his hand, and water started raining down below him. At the same time, he heard two separate thunks, followed by what sounded like a rain of vaguely spherical objects and confused screaming from below him.
White powder fell in a heap, coating the cultists and spreading over the floor near the table they had set up, and he remembered what the woman- Marinette- told him. Swallowing down the adrenaline induced haze, he aimed the water as the cultists scattered.
It was chaos.
The three cultists closest to the table had the most powder on them, and when they ran directly under the path of the water, something unexpected happened. The first one fell, foot stuck to the ground, and the other two tripped over them and didn't get back up again, writhing where they had ragdolled against the floor, stuck to it like a glue trap. The white powder got on two more, one of the people who were meditating and the person standing next to them. They ran, only getting partially soaked before they were out of range. They ran for the door behind Jason, clothes becoming stiff and sticky with glue, but not managing to fully stop them. They didn't get far, because as soon as they got to the border of the boxes they tripped over the balls of various sizes scattered over the floor. One fell to the side, catching themselves on a heavy crate while the other fell face first into the floor. Neither got back up, despite how much they struggled.
On the path next to them, two more cultists had tried to escape, but instead of sticking to the floor like the others, they slid on it. Crashing into each other, they both fell head first into a dusty tarp that seemed to swallow them whole as they fell into a pit. The cord of his mutilated grapple gun pulled taught, closing around the edges of the tarp, leaving only a single flailing leg sticking out of the top.
Across from him, on the longest and darkest path, the two cultists who were meant to be on watch followed behind a third at a dead sprint. They gained speed unhindered, until they were around twenty feet away from the door when the one in front hit a tripwire, stumbling but keeping momentum. But then they hit another tripwire.
And another tripwire.
And then another tripwire.
They managed to dodge by jumping over the last tripwire, only to miss the clothesline that hit them directly at neck height. The cultist fell, slamming their head on the ground, knocked out cold with a muted thud.
The two behind didn't stop for their friend, simply jumping over the prone form and ducking past the clothesline, speeding up for the last stretch to the door. They almost made it, but we're stopped dead by the web of fishing line and stacks of pallets that collapsed around the two, trapping them in a tangle of limbs and splinters.
Just behind them, almost at the same time another cultists barely dodged a paint can swinging down from the rafters, only to be buried under the resulting cascade of paint cans that spilled from two huge pallets. The one behind skid to a stop and backpedaled, watching four of their companions go down trying to get out that way. They then turned around, seeing a fifth person groaning on the ground stuck to a mat of tape they fell on after running through another series of tripwires and singular clothesline. In a panicked haze, they looked around until spotting a couple of others at the truck door that wasn't blocked off, trying to open it. The panicking cultist rushed over just as they managed to crack it open, incidentally causing a veritable avalanche of boxes and crates to fall on all three.
There were three left standing. The one with red trim, who was yelling obscenities while standing in the middle of their half done ritual, and the two who were walking through the minefield of tripping hazards that got the ones half-covered in glue. They reached the other side without falling within just a few seconds of each other, the one who got there first sprinting forwards and throwing open the door with a screech of rusted hinges.
Then was promptly knocked the fuck out by a boot to the face.
The last one made it out the door, then screamed. Their footsteps fell silent.
Jason was gaping.
Holy... Fucking... Shit...
Below him, he heard cackling. Not the unsettling, mechanical and screaming laughter of the joker dolls, but the nearly evil delighted glee coming from the small blue-haired woman dancing around with a monkey wrench the size of her arm held in one hand. Her high ponytail bounced behind her, covered in cobwebs and dust. Her clothes were rumpled and dirty, and even from this distance her arms looked like she went ten rounds with an octopus and lost. But despite this, she was practically glowing.
"IT WORKED, YES!!! HAHA!" She shouted out, twirling out from behind her wall of boxes, head whipping around in every direction, taking it all in. The lead cultist whirled around, gaze locking onto her.
"YOU!" He shouted in outrage, immediately charging at the much smaller woman. Jason sucked in a breath, whether to warn her or just shout, he is not sure, but the sound never left his throat.
Marinette turned her feral grin on the charging cultist, and when he was in range, swung her heavy monkey wrench and hit him right in the shoulder. Jason could hear the bone snap. She hit him again, this time in the stomach with a forwards jab, then another swing to the knee with a sickening crunch, taking him down completely and then stepping far enough away he couldn't reach her, just in case. She spun, turning to look directly at him.
"You still think I'm adorable and harmless, Hood?!" She shouted up at him, dropping the wrench with a heavy thunk. "I told you that you would eat your words," she threw her arms out wide "Now eat them and weep!" She cackled madly, not waiting for an answer as she turned and skipped away. Skipped.
Jason was left speechless, open mouthed and hanging above the groaning and unconscious cultists who had kidnapped and were prepared to sacrifice him with only one thought.
I think I might be in love.
The Batmobile skid to a stop in front of the warehouse and he practically flew out of it. The outside was dark, but he could see light seeping out through broken and dirty windows and hear a commotion coming from the inside. He ran towards the closest door, only to be mildly surprised as it was thrown open with a near deafening screech of the hinges when he was still a few paces away. The surprise didn't stop, because even as he was getting into a fighting stance, the person(whom he identified as one of the cultists his sons were investigating) was knocked out by a boot swinging down from the crude mechanism he only barely had time to noticed before it activated.
… What?
Pushing his confusion and surprise away, he focused on the second cultist that came running through the loudly closing door. They made it a few steps out before noticing him in the dim lighting. Expression already contorted in fear and panic, the shock of seeing Batman standing in their way was too much, and they screamed.
Bruce punched them in the face, then spent a few precious seconds zip tying their hands and feet so they couldn't escape when they woke up. Creeping forward to the door that was held open by the unconscious body of the first cultist, he peered inside to where he could hear a woman's manic laughter. Once he did, he stopped to take it all in.
His son, in full gear, was hanging from the ceiling, wrapped in chains and holding a leaking garden hose. Below him was a small woman covered in dirt and injuries, laughing maniacally as she stood above an even more injured cultist who was trying to crawl away with one arm, and another pile of people somehow stuck to the ground. He could see a hole of some kind to the left with a single still-moving leg sticking upwards, and to the right two people splayed out like ragdolls. He could hear muffled arguing and curses from the other side of the warehouse, along with creaks of pallets and groaning from underneath piles of boxes. Bruce felt a very familiar feeling creeping over him, one his kids loved to induce for the sole purpose of causing grey hairs.
What the hell happened?
But this time, it wasn't one of his kids who were responsible. He watched as the woman turned, looking directly at Jason and yelling up at him.
"You still think I'm adorable and harmless, Hood?! I told you that you would eat your words, now eat them and weep!" Then she cackled madly, turned, and skipped through to the opposite side of the building.
Well, Bruce thought with a restrained sigh, maybe he was at least a little responsible.
Bruce slid through the door, creeping around the edges of the circle before emerging from the shadows in front of his son. Hood jerked, whipping his head from where he was staring after the woman to Batman. He grunted, clearing his throat before speaking.
"Uh, hi- hey." Jason cleared his throat again, attempting for casual and failing miserably. "How's- uh, how's it goin'?" he stammered, glancing back to where the woman disappeared. Stammered. Bruce didn't answer, tilting his head and scanning the carnage again, before spotting the loop of rope hanging next to his son.
"...How long have you been here?" His tone was harder to decipher with the voice modulator, but Bruce would recognize it easily from any one of his children. Jason was flustered.
"B?" Hood asked, unsettled as a small grin grew on The Batman's face. Whoever that woman was, whatever Jason said to her to cause this reaction, Bruce would likely thank her for the opportunity to get back at one of his children for all the grief they cause him. Uncrossing his arms, Bruce pulled a phone out of his belt pouch. "B? B don't you fucking dare-" He still didn't respond, holding up the device with one hand, and snapping a picture. Ignoring his son's vehement protests, he sent the photo to Alfred with the attached message:
B: please print and frame this for display in the cave.
A: Of course, Sir. I suppose the bulletproof frames will come in useful after all.
Red Hood continued to swear, attempting to spray him with water from the hose he still held tightly in hand. Bruce just put the phone away and reached up to tap his comm with his small smile still in place.
"Oracle, please send Nightwing and Red Robin to my location." He said calmly, concerned exclamations immediately coming through only to be drowned out by Hood's booming voice.
"B, DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE!"
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dax-enfinity · 2 months ago
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quick question: this is fully out of genuine curiosity lol, but is there a reason why Jason/Marinette is the second most popular MariBat ship ?
since I genuinely thought it would’ve been Tim/Marinette to be the second most popular MariBat ship (behind Damian/Marinette of course lol)
i’m just kinda confused ?
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thegurlwhoisntthere · 1 year ago
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Okay, so I can’t believe I’m writing this, the Maribat/Daminette fandom has me by the throat so, here we are
There are a lot of fics where Damian comes to Paris and they click and he gets the Black cat miraculous for various reasons, and also a lot where Marinette goes to Gotham with generally the same outcomes, but what about a fic where Damian and his class go on a trip to Paris before Hawkmoth first attacks.
Like, he’s 13 and forced into this trip because the fam wants him to experience more than just being a vigilante and he hates it. His school has a program with Marinette’s, so at the beginning of the year they pack up and plan to spend two weeks in Paris.
This trip just so happens to coincide with when Master Fu is looking for his new Ladybug and Black Cat (y’all see where I’m going with this?)
In this Au, Adrien makes it to the school sooner and misses Master Fu because he’s testing Marinette. Adrien still gets to go to school, because he deserves happiness, but he’s able to get there the first day, and so avoids the whole gum thing that make Marinette hate him, but also sees what Chloe does to Marinette which really changes his initial perspective of school. He would definitely be a temp hero later, but he gets to enjoy being a normal rebellious teen.
Anyway, so Adrien Misses Fu, so who’s going to be the Cat? Well, Damian’s school pulls up at the same time Adrien would have.
The class stops to do a head count and give the general speech of why they’re there in front of the school and Damian’s planning on slipping away because he’s 13 and thinks this is all a waste of his time. He thinks that if he can make it back to the hotel without anyone noticing he’ll be able to make an argument that they forgot him and that he should be allowed to go home (can you see where I’m taking my inspiration from?). Unfortunately for him, Fu sees this and does his test (the fall). All his classmates don’t do anything because they’re from Gotham and are suspicious of everything (and also it’s Paris and they don’t want to be scammed) and the teachers don’t notice. Damian, however, does notice. He considers leaving anyway because it’s not his problem, but he’s been Robin for almost 3 or 4 years at this point and, contrary to what some people might say, has grown a lot. He would feel guilty and maybe even a little unworthy of Robin if he didn’t stop for 2 seconds to help this old man up.
It goes quite similarly to how it did with Adrien, he helps Fu up, but gets caught and can no longer run away from the class.
Basically, this au is a “what if Damian was The Black Cat from the start?”
I have a lot more ideas, but here’s just a few:
Damian isn’t Chat Noir, but I haven’t looked up any cat related names that he could be yet.
As the cat, Damian acts a lot more fun than he normally would allow himself. He’s not Chat Noir level, but this is the first time in his life where literally no one knows who he is and is monitoring his behavior, nor does he have anyone’s expectations on him for who he should be.
He’s initially annoyed with Ladybug, because she’s so clearly untrained, unconfident, and unprepared, but then she comes up with the plan that shows what she could be capable of, and the speech and he might have a crush, but brushes it off as grudgingly respecting her
He 100% plans on training her and their partnership is more equal than what the show portrays it as, because one of my main problems with the actual show is that chat noir, despite being her partner is often shoved aside and given the sidekick role
Damian doesn’t tell his family what’s happening. As far as they’re aware, Paris is fine. Normally he would have, but he had no time until after the fight and he really enjoyed being the cat that he’s like “I’ll tell them later” which keeps being pushed back.
At the end of the trip he somehow talks his family into letting him actually transfer to Paris so he can stay as the cat
He is baffled that this works, but they are all so happy that he’s taking an interest in something other than Robin and Superheroing that they jump on letting him before realizing that it means he’s gonna be in Paris for months.
Dick is sad about this later, so is Bruce and Alfred and the others, but he’s the most vocal about it.
Damian is also baffled that they haven’t figured out what’s going on by now and as everyday passes he gets more and more annoyed by the fact that his so called family of detectives have realized that he’s decided if they can’t figure it out, he’s not telling them.
He has not figured out that magic is preventing knowledge of this from leaving Paris and even if it didn’t, Magic is protecting his identity.
He acts annoyed by Plagg, but he actually loves him so much
His cat outfit is still fun with the ears and tail, but it’s a lot more elaborate and has a utility belt and a lot of hidden things
In fact, because it’s so elaborate, Marinette’s boring suit only stays for the first time she transforms. Once the fight finishes her little fashion designer brain can’t stop thinking about it and comes up with a new design after consulting Tikki.
Of course, she only has the idea of the costume down, because by the time they finalize it, she sees the news and has her depression moment, so the first time she wears it is when she saves Alya.
Due to this first change, her outfit would constantly be changing throughout her time as Ladybug, as she learns more about fighting and what she’s comfortable with, as well as what’s actually possible with magic and the miraculous.
By the end of the year her firs are going to be crazy (wait till she finds out she can change her actual eyes (both color and the pupils and-) hair colors and length)
She will eventually bully Damian into making some changes but he’s generally happy with the first design.
They also know each others identities a lot sooner because Damian actually knows the benefits and his cold logic is able to cut through a lot of her anxiety.
It still doesn’t happen until at least the second season tho.
Y’all I have so much more, but this is getting long and I’ve got things to do so tell me if u want more or feel free to add your own ideas!!!
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kashlyn · 6 months ago
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I'm seeing a lot of maribat in my fyp lately...
Me rn:
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itriedwritingandhereiam · 2 months ago
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(Mirabat) Nino and Chris doesn't have their parents showed up yet... What if their father was someone like Killer Croc?
That's an interesting question! I'd never considered Nino and Chris' parentage much but I suppose the lack of canon makes way for any interpretations.
The Lahiffes having Rogue heritage is an interesting concept, I think I've read one or two fics where they'd had ties to the League of Assassins rather than Gotham Rogues but I like the idea.
Saying we stick with Killer Croc, now we have to ask the question, what about the other parent, and who do they live with since no guardian figure has made an appearance (as far as I'm aware of, but I have not watched season 6 so perhaps that changes) is Nino emancipated? How do they support themselves? Are they in foster care? How did they end up in France of all places; or even, how did their other parent end up in Gotham, with a Rogur like Killer Croc of all.
This opens a lot of possibilities to explore fic wise. I'm loyal to the Gotham field trip fics, I will not lie so now I'm conjuring a more Nino-centric plot with him eagerly ignoring anything to do with Rogues but still getting pulled into their bullshit because everyone knows he's the Croc's kid and Chris is sending him annoyingly unhelpful spam messages from back in Paris.
For some reason, child support jokes are also popping into my head, do with that what you please.
Unless you wanna make it more angsty, I'm not an angst person, personally.
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editorofeverything · 1 year ago
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I am finally getting over my writer's block and I am back in the trenches of my daminette fic having the time of my life. Like, it just occurred to me that I haven't really considered how various characters would interact because, despite this being an au crossover, I was still keeping the dc side of things and the miraculous side of things separate, which is the cowards way out imo bc can you imagine Beast Boy, Cyborg, and Nino in a room together? Or like Raven and Juleka/Luka? Rose and Starfire? The possibilities are endless. Unfortunately, my fic doesn't focus on the ML class very much at all, so I don't forsee myself really writing many of them interacting, but now that I've thought of it, the need to write it anyways is immense
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intotherabithole · 1 year ago
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HELLO @lily-drake
I made you some things for the MariBat server's Secret Santa gift exchange!
For your first prompt I drew a comic. It's a little to big for Tumblr, so here is the first part:
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abyssal-ali · 2 years ago
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Hi, my friend is asking why there are so many maribat fics, and especially with DamiMari.
Maybe you know about the history of these crossovers in Batman Fandom?
Hi!
(Fellow Maribat fans, feel free to add your own commentary or correct any of my mistakes.)
So @/ozmav created the Damian x Marinette ship in 2018, I think? It was just a fun little crossover that blew up and became really popular. I was not around either of those fandoms at the time, so I'm not sure about all the details.
Daminette was the first Maribat ship created, so it was around the longest, and thus accumulated the most works.
Eventually, the other Bat Boys got their own ship, and now the Maribat (or now, more technically, DCxMLB) fandom has so many more ships and crossovers -not necessarily between the Bat/MLB main characters.
Some rarepair ships (any DCxMLB ship not between one of the four main Bat Boys and Marinette) include Konette (Conner Kent/Superboy and Marinette Dupain-Cheng/Ladybug) and Timdrien (Tim Drake/Red Robin and Adrien Agreste/Chat Noir), to name a couple.
The Maribat fandom also crosses over with multiple fandoms, like DPxDCxMLB or MCUxDCxMLB.
Some pure MLB and DC stans definitely dislike Maribatters, especially during the beginning of the fandom, when the tags for both fandoms were cluttered with DCxMLB content. Now that it's grown so much and has its own tags, I think the hate has calmed down somewhat. (Although, I prefer to keep out of fandom drama, so I may simply have missed the hateful discourse ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.)
Overall, the Maribat fandom has really grown from a crack ship to its own large, well-populated community. There are tags on Ao3 and many discord servers, which runs events such as "Jasonette July" and "Maribat? Get In! [a server] Civil War".
On a personal note:
As to my thoughts on the ships themselves, my favorites are Daminette (Damian Wayne/Robin and Marinette Dupain-Cheng/Ladybug) and Jasonette (Jason Todd/Red Hood and Marinette Dupain-Cheng/Ladybug). It's always fascinating to rotate a character or ship in your head like a rotisserie chicken, considering their Canon and Fanon traits and then exploring them in whatever medium you choose (my medium of choice is writing fanfiction).
For Daminette, the ship you specifically asked about, I am drawn to it because I find the differences between the couple adorable. I personally have a fondness for the Grumpy x Sunshine trope, a Tsundere male lead, and relationship/character growth. (Of course, sometimes it's nice just to read a cute 500 word drabble with no plot, no specific dynamics, and no development, where the couple is just cute and happy.)
I think that is one of the beauties of Maribat. With so many various ships and characters to choose from, there's something for everyone, and we can all bond over belonging to the same fandom(s). Some of us have joined from the MLB side, some from the DC side, some just got dragged in by a friend and have no knowledge of either fandom, and that's okay! With so much to explore in both fandoms, there is constantly new content* being made with love (and tears. And laughter, both evil and joyful. And hornin-).
I've made some of my best friends through this fandom, and I'm proud to be a part of it.
I hope this helps, and I apologize if my ramblings detracted from my answers!💜
*Yes, I am aware of the popular Tropes such as "Akuma Class Trip to Gotham" and "Long-Lost Wayne".
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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 1 year ago
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Trials and Defibrillations (4)
Prev
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: :)
Next
Trials and defibrillations masterlist
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calico-kiwi · 2 years ago
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The 3rd Chapter is Finally Here!
i can't believe i literally haven't added to this in 9 months, whoopsie
Fandom: Maribat (Miraculous Ladybug x DC)
Tags: Tim Drake/Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Original Character, fluff & Shenanigans, no plot & no update schedule
Work Summary: Both Tim Drake and Marinette Dupain-Cheng are incredibly successful and busy people. Two people who both view coffee as their lifeblood. When they find themselves needing each other to obtain ultimate coffee rights at their favorite cafe, two total strangers become allies. And friends. And perhaps eventually… something more.
Chapter Summary: Tim and Marinette reconvene at the cafe, where they both agree to participate in the second Coffee Trial. It's there where the trials officially begin. But Skye, always full of surprises, has yet another (unintentional) twist.
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trashyangelic · 16 days ago
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the reaction on Damian is hilarious when he question Ladybug of 'How?' its not really surprising due to Marinette riding a dragon akumatized of Fang or getting close to be eaten by a T-Rex Akumatized.
Daminette December 2022: 4-Dragon
It had been five moths since Chat Noir was retired. Marinette had to sprinkle a powder over him while he was sleeping to get the ring from Adrien. The powder made sure he wouldn’t remember his time as a miraculous weilder.
Paris had been surprised by the change, but Ladybug had informed them there would be sever changed to how she operated.
Ladybug smiled, “There is nothing to worry about Paris. Although, Chat Noir is no longer with us, we don’t have to worry about the cat miraculous. I have already chosen a new weilder. I also got help from outside of Paris. It seem the mayor put an international ban order on akumas and evidence of akumas. We might not have as many tourist, but that will also lower akuma number since we don’t have to explain akumas every five seconds.”
“What do you mean by ‘ban order on akumas’, Ladybug?” questioned Nadia Chamack.
“Parisian news that has evidence of akumas or fan sites, dedicated to myself and akumas, like Ladyblog, are not accessible anywhere other then Paris.” she announced, “Anyone who decided to come to Paris was completely unprepared for what they would go through.”
“You said you got help?” Nadia continued, “Is this because of Chat Noir?”
“No. Chat Noir and I tried to get outside help right away.” Ladybug commented, “It was Mayor Bourgeois who stopped out our call to the Justice League. I left Paris and made contact. I insisted they try a VPN or come to Paris as a civilian, with certain rules. They saw first hand the destruction you were all subjected to. I know have the Justice League assisting me on searching for Hawkmoth and Mayura. The new cat miraculous weilder is more than qualified. I’m sorry, but this will be my last time to stop and answer questions. I will be giving them as much information as possible so we can stop this attack. Bug, out.”
“Shadu!” Ladybug shouted, throwing him the dragon miraculous, “Merge!”
“Plagg, Longg, unify!” Jakwar Shadu commanded, “Ladybug, I can provide aerial assistance if you grant it.”
“No outside heroes.” she declared.
“Not a hero; one of my pets.” he answered
Ladybug was confused but granted it. Jakwar pulled out a whistle and blew into it.
“His name is Goliath; he is a dragonbat.” he stated, “Be careful when he gets here. He might not be as friendly with a stranger.”
Ladybug was shocked to see such a giant red beast, but she smiled.
'He looks like Fang!’
Ladybug walked up and pet the creature. Goliath began to lick her. Soon, the giant was acting like a puppy and had rolled over onto his back. Jakwar stood in silence as he watched one of his most fearsome pets act like an overgrown puppy, as Ladybug gave him bell rubs.
“Such a good boy.” Ladybug cooed, rubbing her nose to the beast’s.
Back in Gotham, the Bat family watched in shock. Batman rarely let Goliath come out. Here was proof that it was tamed.
“I wanna say I’m in shock, but she tamed the Demon.” Red Hood spoke, breaking the silence, “Why would his demon dog be any different?”
Ladybug smiled, as she continued to pet the dragonbat, “I need a favor from you. Can you fly us to the akuma? We really need to stop him.”
Goliath rolled over and knelt down so Ladybug could get on. With another pet to the dragonbat’s head, she hopped onto his back.
“How?” Jakwar asked, still in shock.
“This is nothing.” Ladybug commented.
“How?” he pressed.
“Well, when you ride an akumatized dragon into battle and jump into a T-Rex’s mouth, you’re not really scared of anything.” she stated, “Besides, he reminds me of my uncle’s pet. It's…..exotic.”
“You did what?” the cat weilder shouted.
Ladybug sighed and held out her hand, “You can look for footage later.”
“There’s footage?” he growled, as he took her hand and hopped onto Goliath.
Ladybug shrugged, “Possibly.”
“We are talking about this after the akuma!” he demanded.
“Hey, Jakwar.” Nightwing spoke, announcing himself into the conversation.
“What?” Shadu questioned, “Did the akuma change locations?” gaining Ladybug’s attention.
“No.” Nightwing answered.
Jakwar shook his head and Ladybug turned around.
“Is this important?” the cat weilder hissed.
“Hood claimed Bug is now his sister.” Red Robin groaned, “Says he’s keeping her if you pull a Bat.”
“Explain.” the destruction weilder growled.
Red Robin sighed, “Hood kicked me off the Batcomputer and found the footage of your ….miraculous’ leader jumping into an actual dinosaur’s mouth. Chat Noir actually screamed when she did that. She also wasn’t lying about the dragon. Ladybug stood on it and rode it into battle.”
“Ladybug is a literal badass!” shouted Red Hood, “Congrats, you got a girlfriend cooler than you!”
“Ladybug.” Jakwar whispered.
“Yes?” she questioned turning around.
“We’re talking about your near death experiences when we get home.” he growled out.
Ladybug rolled her eyes, “It’s not as many as Chat Noir’s. He took the hits he thought I couldn’t. I told him to stop, too. Some of those weren’t even necessary. I know I’m a target; nothing is going to stop me from retrieving the Butterfly and Peacock miraculous. If you can’t handle me in the field, go home and stay there.”
Jakwar flinched. He could tell she was serious. He had woken her up from many nightmares. He watched Marinette limp around somedays; she wasn’t injured. There was no bruise. He even had Jon scan her, but nothing was broken. He couldn’t understand until she told him, she could sometimes feel phantom pain from being injured during the akuma attacks. He even noticed she couldn’t look at white cats without flinching. He questioned it and all she answered was 'akumatized chat noir’.
Jakwar reached over and put his hand on hers.
“I just want to talk. I’m not trying to stop you from doing your job. I know how important this is.” he spoke, “Just….I want us to be careful on how we analyze the situation. You have complained about the previous weilder and his recklessness towards his own life.”
Ladybug smiled, “You just want to be in control of the dragon next time, don’t you?”
“Father would never let me keep it.” Shadu smiled.
She laughed, “Fine, but that…animal; they try not to let it get akumatized now. If it ever does happen again fine.”
“No fair!” his brothers shouted into his earpiece.
Jakwar Shadu smiled the whole time as he took down the akuma. Hawkmoth had ever seen Chat Noir look feral, but this cat did.
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