Robin, showing up to a crime scene with Red Robin and Red Hood to find Ladybug force feeding an apprehended Riddler danishes:
Robin: . . .
Robin: Ladybug, you cannot solve every problem with pastries.
Ladybug, shoving a scone into Riddler's already over stuffed mouth: *gives Robin a flat look*
Ladybug: Watch me.
Red Robin: Honestly, I've yet to see it not work for her.
Red Hood: She bribed a whole gang last week with croissants.
Ladybug: It's called diplomacy.
Robin: It's called bribery.
Ladybug, considering Robin: *holds out a macaron*
Robin: *stares at it a moment before taking it*
Robin: ... I won't tell Batman.
Red Robin, munching on a muffin: This is how Gotham falls.
Red Hood, nodding with a cookie: Pastry bribes.
___
I picture Riddler quietly choking in the background as Ladybug smothers him with more and more pastries. She's not bribing so much as threatening death by overconsumption.
Marinette didn’t forget, she’s actually just kinda embarrassed about it. How is she supposed to casually mention a sculpture that was made by someone who was in love with her resides outside her front door?
Damian is just endlessly amazed by the details of her life.
Annnyywhoooo, my first daminette fanart easily became my most popular post in just a week… didn’t realize there was so many of us! All the notes are encouraging me to make more so I wanted to thank you all so much, I’ll definitely make more :)))
Tim cameo bc he’s my fav weirdo
Extra-
Damian: Since w h e n?
Tim: Uhhh, early Hawkmoth days. Kinda unfair, we’ve been around for decades and don’t have anything like that.
Steph (on call): Tim, the Wayne name is on half the buildings in the city. Fund your own and plant it outside Wayne Tower if it’ll make you feel better.
Marinette "almost isn't good enough and an old man over 100 dropped gods in my pocket and forced me to be a child soldier and basically drilled into me a fair amount of my problems and I hate myself because of my past actions one of which was a heinous plot against an innocent girl who's only crime was having a crush and another was fucking up my boyfriend's life and lying to him about something pretty major and lying to my best friend about it and now half the media wants me raped, dead, or both and another was making my partner feel useless and treating him pretty badly because of a messy reaction to seeing the world end because I loved someone and his dad found out our identities and I had a panic attack and as a result Monarch got a major upper hand for a moment and almost still isn't good enough despite how much I've tried and the only way I can get rid of this self-imposed hell is by wiping my memories and losing my life or killing myself so I have beef with you because you're basically perfect" Dupain-Cheng
x
Damian "I was raised to be and expect the best and I continue to bear a crushing guilt no matter the cost upon me despite the fact that some actions were from when I was 5 years old and most people I meet only want me for my money resources or body and a lot of people decide they can't stand me because most of the time I'm just telling the truth and doing what I spent my childhood doing and then was suddenly introduced into a completely different lifestyle away from my mother who was among the first people to love me in a way I never have been loved before and I have literally been to hell and back and nothing I do can wipe the phantom blood from my hands and I struggle with a certain level of insecurity and why are you glaring at me because I'm better than you?" Al Ghul Wayne.
In all honesty, Damian and Marinette both have to fight Marinette to get what they want 😂.
We all know she has issues. Some aren't really her fault. But good god would it be hard for them to get together. In any font really.
This is Marinette Dupain-Cheng we are talking about. The girl who subconsciously started gradually neglecting her partner (most likely) because she saw the world end and deep dived into paranoia. The girl who (in canon) almost drove herself to insanity and literally kicked out her friends because she was so stressed. The girl whose obsession goes beyond a boy and is directed towards desperately trying to what is right and protect a city and keep her identity a secret and keep her partner safe and defeat a villian. The girl who (again) let teenage hormones kick in and as a result put YET ANOTHER soul crushing weight on herself. The girl who is so terrified of losing these new relationships that she is willing to do just about ANYTHING to keep them. For better and for worse.
Damian has faced many opponents before, but none with the indomitable will of Marinette Dupain-Cheng and her chronically low self-esteem and control issues.
Marinette would have to fight past herself to allow herself to be...anything with Damian.
And Damian would have to fight past so many layers of Marinette to even be functional coworkers 😭.
Mind you, both of them would earn each other's trust, but Damian trusts Marinette more than she trusts herself. And Marinette trusts Damian more than she trusts herself.
As for the layers of Marinette they have to get through? Oh man...how do I even count?
They are as follows:
her initial jealousy towards him and therefore skewed outlook on him
her (now) virtual inability to trust herself
deep seated fear of getting close to him as partners (cue Cat Noir angst)
paranoia
old habits (trying to keep her identity a secret)
old habits (self-doubt)
old habits (being afraid of him getting hurt(despite this time not trying to protect him)) though Damian quickly shuts this one down
self-sabotaging
fear
guilt
anger
frustration
being a demi-god (in my au)
internalized bullying/classism (she was bullied for being the daughter of two bakers you're telling me she wouldn't use that as an attack on herself?)
(I disagree with the season 6 ablelist Marinette because who is that? Like aside from issues with CN of course, she was not ableist in s1-4 and mid-5? Like yeah she coddled Adrien in season 5 finale and stuff but that's a different issue. She literally admitted to Ryuko/Kagami that she made mistakes too but that doesn't mean she can't get back up and try again or whatnot. And she recruited Alya and Nino who were inexperienced but she had faith in them. She gave Chloe a miraculous not just because she needed her, but because again, she had faith. She gave HM a second chance. A villian who has caused harm and is actively terrorizing people. I am all for her flaws S1-5. Yes! Steal that phone! Be jealous even though you went too far with Chloe against Kagami. Be flawed and walk right into Lila's multiple traps. Hurt Cat Noir even though he's supposed to be your partner. Yes internalize what a (basically) dead man taught you. Yes be obsessed with saving Paris to the point of hurting yourself and everyone around you. But ableism? Come on. I know that ableism is a serious issue. I disagree STRONGLY that Marinette is the type to be ableist especially because she was freaking bullied as a child for being a social outcast and whatever else. Why would she.......😤 I'll even take the toxic positivity ON OCCASION... anyway moving on)
Bruce Wayne's Headache Classification System Chapter 5
You can read it on ao3 here!
A/N: *Strolls in three and a half years later.*
You would never believe the traffic on the way here.
I rewrote this chapter five times!! Every time I thought I had something, I found out that I hated it. Finally, FINALLY, found a version that I liked.
Is it perfect? No. But it's done, and if the urge to ever write the follow-up where Damian and Marinette get together, Marinette wins over the family, and the whole Gotham curse situation gets resolved ever grabs me by the throat, I'll have a much better jumping off point than the limbo it has existed in for the last three years. Now, without any further ado!
Chapter 5:
Bruce lasts all of an hour - a frustrating, hair-pulling, concerning hour driving him to a state of manic paranoia, and opening three more case files alluding to the magical events happening in Paris he had worryingly missed - before he concludes that his sons vastly underestimated the amount of trouble Paris, and one Miss Dupain-Cheng, happened to be.
Concern is an understatement of the utmost kind. And that migraine he drove away remerges with a vengeance on par with his own mission.
Paris was essentially besieged by a magical terrorist for years. And no one knew. Not a peep from the UN, or the EU, not a call to the Justice League, not a contemporary mention on social media. Nothing. It’s like Paris became a sinkhole for all information regarding the situation for years. All the tourists never mentioned it, and none of the citizens ever complained.
And then, a year ago, the information slowly leaked out. Fits and bursts, seen as an internet joke, but with enough evidence to prove it true, if you knew where to look.
And it was hard to look.
If Bruce were not overwhelmingly familiar with how magic could fool the mind, directing it away from certain modes of thinking, knowledge so obviously right there in front of you, he would have missed it. But he worked with the impossible every day. Trained his mind and his body to look past the obvious into what lay hidden beneath. The magic, and he doubted it was anything but magic, at play here lay quiet and hidden until it needed to obfuscate, and then it showed itself with force.
Too bad he knew how to fight back.
Already, he could tell that the focus of attacks circled Collège Françoise Dupont, the very school Dupain-Cheng attended. Attacks continued on through the years, varying wildly, always seeming to circle a core group of people. People who, through the few social media posts Bruce could find on the girl, were in the young woman’s social circle.
Frustration bit deep as, at every turn, the internet refused to give him the answers he sought. His head pounded, trying to make sense of what had happened in Paris for the last six years.
An alert cut through his research-induced fog.
Tim: Patrol ended early. Jason and Damian are fighting in the cave
Tim: Damian has his swords out
Tim: Might need some backup
Tim: pls
Bruce sighs. Heavily.
Like clockwork, a pain at the base of his neck builds into a fever pitch, his why-did-I-think-children-were-a-good-idea headache hitting full force. Heading for the hidden entrance to the cave, he preps himself for breaking up a fight between his two volatile sons.
Clanging metal hits his ears the second the elevator doors open. Angry yelling registers next.
“That the best you can do, demon brat?”
“Come closer and face me like a man, Todd!”
“What? Like how you trapped me after your little girlfriend made me think you were dying!?”
Bruce grits his teeth; why are they acting like untrained children? Racing to the cave's open area, he finds Jason dodging away from furious sword strikes. Tim sits over by the computer. Amused, concerned, and filming on his phone. While Dick stands off to the side, looking three seconds away from jumping in. “What in the world is going on here!” he yells. Four heads swivel to face him.
“Damian attacked me!” Jason’s eyes shine a bright, toxic green, glinting in the cave's dim light.
Damian growls, face twisted in anger. “I told you to cease your baseless slander of Marinette. You continued to do so, and I demonstrated the consequences of such a poor decision.”
“Aww, are you sad because I’m being mean to your little girlfriend?” Jason mocks, grin jagged like spikes. “Grow a pair, Dami.”
“How about I take yours for recompense,” his youngest hisses.
“Enough!” Bruce orders, using the voice his kids knew meant business. All four straighten up in an instant. “You both are acting like children.”
Jason shakes off the reprimand first and blanches, “But he-”
Damian quickly bristles, “I’m just-”
“Cease.”
Reluctantly, both boys settle, tension still suffusing the air with the promise of violence yet unwrought. Bruce grunts, walking down the steps to the platform, the occasional wrong movement a jar to his broken ribs. “You are all trained vigilantes, professionals. And yet you can’t complete a simple patrol without devolving into pointless bickering.”
Jason and Damian refuse to meet his eyes, staring at the ground as if it will save them. It won’t.
“What happened?” The order barely bothers to be a question.
“I made the decision to cut the patrol short,” Dick answers, jumping in like his eldest clearly wanted to from the start. “Low chatter on the police comms, no rouges out of Arkham-”
“Besides Harls and Ives,” Jason mutters.
Dick waves him off. “They hardly count these days, besides, they’re vacationing in Brazil this month-”
“Which means they’re terrorizing deforesters in the Amazon,” Tim points out blandly. And, yes, he is likely correct. But Bruce long gave up on containing Ivy, and she kept her destruction to industrial equipment and scaring the living daylights out of reckless loggers. Compromises.
Whatever kept her busy enough to stop her from besieging Arkham to get at the Joker.
Dick continues without missing a beat. “Which is not here, and thus not our problem. So, I said we’d all do one last check of our areas and call it a night because we could all use the sleep-”
“Because someone was up early primping and preening for his little date,” Jason says, sneering in Damian’s direction.
“It was not a date,” Damian shoots back. “It was an enjoyable outing, with. A. Friend.”
“That’s not what the pictures Stephanie sent look like,” Tim says, scrolling through his phone. Nose scrunching in disbelief. “Did you really pull out her chair for her?”
Damian’s face turns a vibrant shade of red, turning to face Tim. “What?” he growls, body tensing like he was set to pounce. Bruce brought himself closer to block the easy path from his youngest to Tim.
“Damian,” he intones, putting as much disapproval in his son’s name as possible. “Stop acting like a child and control yourself.” Damian breathes deep. Had he been a dragon, there would be sparks thrashing in the air, barely leashing his anger, tension radiating off him. Bruce nods to his eldest to continue his report.
“Right, yeah. So everyone circles out, when Jason-”
“Don’t put this on me, Dick. I didn’t start this.”
Tim scoffs. “Yeah, you kinda did.”
Damian sneers, bearing his teeth. “To instigate conflict in the field demonstrates the foibles of the weak and inferior.”
“I’ll show you inferior, ya little piece of shit.” Jason makes a lunge for Damian, who flips onto the railing. Bruce barely restrains Jason from engaging, to the detriment of his ribs. With an inch on him and the raging strength of a pissed-off bull, Bruce hates feeling his age, and tonight is a damn good example of that.
“Anyway!” Dick yells, gathering the attention back to himself. “Jason insults Damian’s new gir-”
Damian’s scowl deepens.
“Damian’s new friend. Damian challenges him over the comm. Jason threatens him back. I say no chatter on the comms-”
“Oracle said no chatter on the comms,” Tim corrects.
Dick throws up his hands, exasperation pouring off him. “Whatever! Can I stop getting interrupted? Babs tells us off, we all come back here because interpersonal fighting has no place in the field,” he stresses, looking pointedly between Damian and Jason. Both of whom are turned away and barely engaged. “Then, Jason insulted Marinette again. Damian pulled his sword, and the rest is as you saw.”
“So, behavior I taught you all better never to bring into the mission,” Bruce glares. Dick raises his hands again, as if washing himself of the responsibility, which was exactly the opposite of what Bruce expected of him when he asked his eldest to take point on patrol.
“Don’t look at me,” says Tim, swiveling back to the batcomputer. “I’m just the messenger.”
Jason wrenches out of Bruce’s hold and hisses out a stinging, “Fucking narc.”
Damian ignores it completely. “This is harassment! I am attempting to cement a civilian connection, which you all have badgered me to do on several occasions, and these worthless wastes of oxygen-”
“Wow, that’s a little harsh,” Dick mutters.
Damian glares viciously, “-are turning the entire affair into a vaudeville side show!”
Jason scoffs loudly, bringing the attention back to himself. “Yeah, no way, I don’t buy girlie pop as a civilian. She knows way too much magic and way too many tricks not to be a plant. And what’s concerning is you don’t fucking seem to care, Demon brat.”
“She is not a plant.” Damian shoots back, pacing above while the rest of them look on in shocked amazement. His youngest is rarely this demonstrative, especially in defense of another. “She is not a trick from my mother, or a floozy trying to use our family status to raise rank. She is a fashion designer from Paris who knows magic, that’s it!” Damian’s voice grew higher and more frantic as he belabored his point.
Bruce grunts again as the pain in his head grows from mildly problematic to throbbing; a prime example of his something-is-wrong-here-but-I-don’t-know-what-yet headache. He powers through, trying to bring reason to the conversation. “Damian, your brothers explained the situation, and further investigation has proved sparse. She’s a ghost. You’re allowing your judgment to be compromised.”
Damian’s jaw ticks, furious green eyes narrow, and Bruce holds back a wince at how much he resembles his mother in this exact moment. “I have run myself through the magical influence protocols. Richard ran them on me a second time. I am functioning with a perfectly sound body and mind-”
Snort. “Debatable,” mutters Tim.
“Your days are numbered, Drake.”
“Dami…” Dick sighs, tentative chiding, lacing his words. It only serves to irritate. Damian bristles at the mollifying tone.
“No, this was your fault we all ended in this mess, and now you blame me for doing all that I could to win!? Marinette did nothing more than follow my requests and utilize her skillset. It is not illegal to have magic-”
Bruce is not a fan of any interference in the city - metas or magic, all of it could turn on a dime. Even the best-trained supers could fall to influences that occurred all too often in his city. “There is a strict no metas in Gotham policy, Damian. And for good reason.”
Damian actually rolls his eyes. “A policy which, beyond the super community - a community Marinette is not a part of - you have no actual way of enforcing beyond financial enticement to leave, disguised as charity from Wayne Enterprises. Marinette chose to attend school here-”
“Suspicious,” Jason sneers, and Bruce resists the urge to groan; he does not need further commentary riling Damian up.
Defensive and on edge, Damian sends another withering glare in Jason’s direction. “No, it’s not. She had no wish to remain in her country after the actions of the magical terrorists that besieged them. That is rather common from what I hear.”
“Yeah, but normal people don’t jump out of the frying pan and into the radioactive acid bath,” Tim says, leaning over the railing with a contemplative look on his face. A comparison Bruce finds quite salient. For all that he loves his city, finds purpose in protecting it from the dregs of humanity, it is not a safe city. If you want a break, and he couldn’t blame the girl for wanting a break if even a little of what he found about the situation in Paris was true, then Gotham was a frankly ridiculous choice.
“Why would you escape a city with one terrorist to a city hosting a dozen, plus gangs, and the occasional alien invasion!?”
“Find me a major city on earth that has avoided having one alien invasion in it by this point,” Damian sneers back.
“Damian-” he starts again, his head aching with the clear pain of why-is-stubborness-genetic but his youngest remains a bulwark of refusal, stiffening his shoulders with a determined edge that triples the pain in Bruce's head.
“No. I proved I am under no outside influences twice. There is no compulsion to steal, reveal information, or engage in self-destructive behavior. Marinette openly and fully admitted to using magic; she is not trying to hide anything. Your suspicion is needless.” Here, he turns to Jason. “And your words are vulgar and untrue, and if you persist upon this course, I will demand retribution.”
He needed to nip this in the bud yesterday. “Damian, you attack your brother, and you’re benched.” Damian’s jaw flexes as he fights to hold back whatever he clearly wants to say. Restraint it may be, but Damian clearly wants to throw caution to the wind and lose it on his older brother.
Meanwhile, Jason leans back against the wall with a dark smirk. “You, demon brat, are letting your dick think for you for the first time, and I’m gonna laugh and say I told you so when this blows up in your face.”
“I am doing no such thing,” Damian hisses, hands clenched on the cave railing, white and leaking rage. “You may allow your base feelings to run rampant, but mine are thoroughly subjected to reason. Which is why all of you are wrong.”
“You have no proof, Damian.”
Damian’s smile turns haughty and cold. “Well, neither do you.” Huffing, he draws into himself, walls slamming down, cutting himself off from anything else they might say. “I see that no amount of words will sway you from your preconceptions. I find it galling, Father, that you would let bias overcome reasoning.”
“Your actions aren’t doing much to persuade me otherwise, son.”
“Tt. I see.” Bruce wishes to cross the gorge that's wrenched open between them, but Damian is already turning on his heel in the shower's direction. “When all this plays out as I have said, I will expect an apology for your mistrust.”
“Yeah, when hell freezes over,” Jason shoots back, but Damian doesn’t reengage. The door to the lockers slams with a definitive clang.
Silence lingers; the hum of the Batcomputer and the occasional rustle of wings do little to alleviate tension so thick they could swim through it.
“Well,” says a clipped, clear voice from above. Bruce turns to see Alfred, standing on the stairs, quiet as a mouse. “I do believe that went down rather like a lead balloon,” Alfred’s wry comment can’t even bring a bit of levity to the situation for Bruce, who, on top of his headache, is battling a deep fear that his son is in over his head.
And how odd is that? Damian is his one child he knows can handle matters of an interpersonal nature with the distance their job requires. But this? Battling between believing the best in a person and the danger they might pose?
That is never a fight Bruce wished for his children.
“Bruce, that was the exact opposite of talking to Damian separately. He has an entirely different perspective on this whole situation than we do,” Dick reprimands. And while his eldest is correct, after his own research on the case, Bruce finds himself increasingly agreeing with Jason and Tim that the girl is hardly what she seems.
“Well, I didn’t see you jumpin’ in to defend the girl, golden boy,” Jason sneers. “Come on, do we really believe that this chick isn’t dangerous?”
“There is a distinct difference between dangerous,” Alfred cuts in. “And a danger to us.”
“A distinction that doesn’t matter if we can’t find any information to tell us which she is, Alfred,” says Tim. “Especially when she’s around Damian, who is hardly the most subtle person regarding our skills and occupation.”
“You mean the fact that we run around at night in suits and beat people up?” drawls Jason. “Or the fact he’s a recovering cult assassin?”
“Damian is an adult; he’s been keeping our family secrets quiet for his entire life. He’s not gonna drop the information to a girl he just met, even if he is crushing on her,” Dick says. “I do worry whether he’s trusting her too quickly, though, because of that…”
Alfred would never dignify shrugging, but Bruce imagines this would be a moment where he would. “I hardly think it matters at this point whether that is a wise choice of action or not, Master Dick. Master Damian has set his course and is not to be deterred from it.” The look he pins Bruce with speaks volumes about where he thinks that tendency stemmed from. Bruce would like to counterpoint with Talia’s… everything. “A rather common trait in this family, I do believe.” All three of his boys find elsewhere to look at, while Bruce stands against the accusation alone.
Traitors.
Even still, the situation pings all of his internal alarms, and he’s not gonna let his youngest’s safety rely on a feeling of trust. “As much as I would like to believe in Damian’s judgement, the situation is concerning enough that I believe our worries are justified and not simply paranoia. We’ll have to remain vigilant if Damian doesn’t approach the situation with the caution that a foreign unknown agent requires.”
Alfred’s sigh carries a disappointed air, but the man merely nods. “Very well, sir. Merely keep in check that your worry does not turn into an unfounded witch hunt, lest you alienate a woman who may be innocent.” Observing them all with a discerning glance. “I see that all your limbs are attached and unmarred. Are there any injuries that I can not see?” he asks, pointedly glancing in Tim’s direction.
Tim huffs. “I’m not the only one who hides injuries.”
“No, but you are the only one lacking a spleen, Master Timothy.”
“Patrol was quiet, Alfred, we’re all good,” confirms Dick.
“Then I shall bid you all a good night.”
Bruce grunts as Alfred heads back upstairs, massaging the side of his head as it goes from aching to throbbing with the distinct edge of I-don’t-know-how-to-solve-this, which is a sensation he utterly despises. He’s Batman, solving situations is his entire job.
“Tim, have you or Barbara found anything on Dupain-Cheng or the Paris situation in general?” he asks. Maybe they had better luck than him.
Tim’s demeanor darkens. “No, and I don’t know if we’re going to find anything, either. It’s a communication blackout and seemingly citywide psychosis. It’s an acknowledged fact that attacks happened in Paris from 20XX to 20XX, but nobody else knew about it at the time.” Tim sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “As for Dupain-Cheng, and any sort of social media the girl may have had in that time period, is sparing at best, and outright glitched at worst.”
“Contact Diana, Paris was her home base until recently; she might have more insight as to what happened there than we do.” Bruce hesitates, thinking of the pain this next request will bring. “And see if you can pin down John Constantine for a chat. He’ll be better versed in magical methods of obfuscation.”
Jason scoffs. “Good luck with that, old man. Constantine’s a mindfuck on a good day.” He strides over to his bike.
“And where do you think you’re going?” he asks.
Jason waves him off. “To go beat someone up, or blow something up, I’ll decide on the way.”
“If it’s the latter, be sure it’s condemned and fully abandoned,” yells Tim.
“If the former, anyone from Penguin’s current goon pool would be great,” Dick chimes in. “I think they’re smuggling heroin in through the harbor to Blud. If you get any info, text me.”
Jason grunts, kicking the stand on his bike and shoving the helmet over his head. Bruce wishes for the right words to say, but with how on edge his second son looks, he fears saying the wrong thing will send him tumbling into a rage. Soon enough, it’s just Tim, Dick, and him in the cave.
Tim stretches and suppresses a yawn. “Well, if Damian is gonna make his lack of judgment a public issue, I'd better prepare our PR people to engage in damage control.”
“In the morning, Tim,” he orders.
Tim narrows his eyes. “But-”
“Send the messages to the Leaguers, but leave PR alone. They won’t be awake at this hour anyway, and neither should you. You’re still recovering after forty-eight plus hours awake.” Tim grumbles but obliges, which is good because Bruce is suddenly hit by his own wave of exhaustion that barrels over him like a hurricane. Getting old sucks.
“In the meantime, what should we do about Damian?” Tim asks.
Bruce sighs. “As Dick said, he’s an adult. I can’t ground him or restrict his movements.” Not that he could do that easily when Damian actually was a child, but there was an attempt. “All we can do is keep an eye out and be vigilant.”
“Aren’t we always?” Tim yawns. “I’m crashing here tonight. I don’t feel like driving back to the city. Are you coming in to work tomorrow?”
“I’m still technically out on leave for a few more days.”
“And your ribs are still healing,” says Dick. “Take the time, Bruce, the company can handle itself.”
“You would say that,” grumbles Tim as he leaves. “You’re not the one making sure it doesn’t collapse out from underneath itself, when it’s left alone for two minutes like an understimulated toddler without an iPad.”
“Night, Tim,” Dick calls out. Tim waves back halfheartedly, disappearing through the elevator.
“Staying the night, chum?”
Dick nods, stifling a yawn. “Bruce, you’ve gotta be careful with this one. Alfred’s right, Damian’s not in a state to be persuaded, and if we push him too far…”
“The situation could spiral before we know how to handle it.” He hoped Diana, or even Constantine, would have answers to give him. A direction on how to approach the situation. Because his current method was only alienating Damian. “I wish I could have gotten a chance to speak with him before all this happened.” Poor planning on his part; curse his migraine. Now his son sits against him, even if he brings valid points to the table. While Dupain-Cheng may have remained pleasant for the brief time at the store, that did not mean she always would be. And she had far too much power at her fingertips for them to remain off guard.
“Doubling down on the warnings when he was already riled did not help.” Bruce turns away, grunting. His son was right, but he didn’t have to say it. Dick sighs. “I’m gonna get some sleep. Don’t stay up too late.”
Bruce sits at the computer. Finding what little Barbara and Tim have compiled, he reads over their findings. Opening a new file, and ignoring the lingering ache shooting up the back of his neck - the same one whenever he’s staring down the barrel of a dangerous situation, he starts fresh, maybe this time he’ll find what he didn’t before.
His family and city might depend on it.
A/N: This is for everyone who has commented, kudos, shared, and recced this story. Thank you. Thank you for loving it as I have loved it. It was never far from my mind, and I always wanted to complete it. I'm glad that I could finally put words to a page, and I only hope they are a somewhat fitting end to this story.
Do I ever see myself continuing in this world? Maybe. Never say never. I finally finished this story, didn't I? For now, though, thank you once again, and see you later.
It's a simple thing. Almost silly. Plucked vegetation, doomed to die, withering away in a small vase or cup. Damian thought he would despise such sentimental acts of affection from a partner. He was a fighter, once a killer, blood soaking his hands and violence written into his veins. What need did he have of flowers?
But every offering of blooms unravels a vice around his heart. Every instance is accompanied by an anxious grin, a reticence that does not suit Marinette - bright, wonderful, hopeful Marinette. She offers him the flowers, and asks - cheeks red, eyes abashed, teeth worrying her bottom lip to a blushed hue - if he would like to know about the tiny bits of brightly colored flora. As if her attempts at coaxing life to bloom in the midst of this smog-ladened, poison-infested city were anything less than a miracle.
He accepts every time.
A smile spreads across her face. Almost timid at its reveal, like its very act of existence is an affront. Haltingly at first, but then pouring out like an unstopped damn, histories, stories, and meanings flutter forth, and Marinette's confidence grows. The flowers, apparently, an instinct, a habitual longing, after so long influenced by Ladybug. Growing them, tending them, and spreading their presence around soothed an unquantifiable need inside Marinette.
It was, apparently, seen as irritating by those who once called themselves her friends.
A fact that sent Damian seething. Hand itching to take up his sword and deliver a well-placed stroke to those who would fault an instinct and shame her for its presence.
But he didn't. Instead, he stills himself and listens, taking the flowers in hand and offering kindness - something he always doubted he was capable of - in return.
It made Marinette happy. And that, he finds, quickly becomes an increasing need in his life.
And so each and every bloom finds its home in a vase - crystalline and beautiful - for however long they last. And every time Marinette catches a glimpse of her gifts - spread across the manor, his room, even the cave if someone is convalescing in the med bay - her smile brightens, and a sliver of uncertainty slips from her shoulders.
It's a more beautiful sight than all the flowers of the world put together.
And now have decided to draw for it :D
My return to tumblr, heralded by the illustrious maribat server!
My first doodle is for the fanfic No Choices by @starwarsmum!! This fanfic definitely has a few more drawable moments, as do the others, so stay tuned!
You are great, Marinette. The time we shared -- I truly loved that. But this is probably the last time for a long while. I have to go back to the States; my family needs me. This is a final goodbye for now, but I promise I will come back when the threat is over. No, you cannot follow me. It is truly dangerous. The Man who Laughs is targeting the Miraculous, at least inside the bubble shell made by Carapace, With the Miraculous, you are safe. So, can you grant my wish…a kiss?
(Low key, this is still my favorite. I know I’m still gushing over these two. Daminette is the best, and I’m also a fan of different dynamics, but theirs really hits home for me. Well, I’m an OG Damimaps, so the sunshine x grumpy dynamic is my favorite of them all.)
All Marinette wanted to do was buy some dishes and twinkle lights.
Instead, she got wrapped up in an all-out game of hide-and-seek between four of the most well-trained vigilantes in the world. Involving Home Alone-esque traps, crushed forklifts, a surprising amount of shoplifting considering they're the good guys, and the beginnings of an epic bond with a smirking, laser wielding, maniac.
Not that she knew that at the time. All she saw was a cute guy hiding behind a desk, and the rest was history.
Submitted by questioning blob of fog
Submitter's comment:
This is a very fun crossover with many shenanigans. They're playing hide and seek in Ikea, except they're Bat competitive
Here’s a cute chibi Daminette, and I’m going to write an angst Daminette fic later...perfectly balanced, as all things should be.
@maribat-get-in @mishka-the-cat
Is the great Gotham sewer race still a planned fic or a simple joke post from a couple years back?
I still like the concept - but with the way the last chapter of Bruce Wayne's Headache Classification system is wrapping up, I don't think that it can be the sequel fic I initially wanted. I'm still not entirely sold on what should be the plot for the sequel fic. The whole endeavor kinds feels too big to come at in some ways.
Headache Classification system ends with no one on Damian's side when it comes to the Marinette issue. So, with that in mind, I'm open to ideas as to what could be in a sequel fic.
vaporwave
romaincrisis
2087
dailybridgerton
pixelskylines
yousharknotpass
tangentwithtanner
