hi 🐢

not a bot. thank you.

[taichi-kungfu-online]

Workout For Daily Life

[chitarra10]

Reblogging for the neck pain ones… whoa Nelly, do I ever get the most killer neck pains.

[800-dick-pics]

if youre hypermobile or have eds be careful with some of these

[bendybitchesanonymous]

Having EDS and having no gauge for how far you’re meant to stretch.

“You’re telling me I’m not meant to touch my shoulders with my head during the head tilt? Next you’ll be telling me my wrists aren’t meant to click like this!”

[mywebfoot]

In Every Winter Night, Part 1 (Marry My Husband Fanfic)

Author's Note: Starting at the end of Ep 10, this fic explores their growing romance and physical relationship, overcoming the trauma she's had from that horrible ex that will not be named.

Part 1/4

-- Ji Hyuk could hear the words of Ji Won’s confession, but after she said she wanted to be ‘honest’ his lungs just froze. Ji Won’s lips kept moving, saying good things, wonderful things, but they came filtered to him, a tinny sound at the end of a long chamber. The rest of his mind was processing her presence in his home, her closeness… and her approaching lips.

A tiny corner of his brain registered her tentative kiss. The rest was a clashing battle of roaring yearning and iron resolution to stay away from her, so he wouldn’t have to make her suffer with his early passing. Too soon she was retreating, her fingers sliding off his neck in disappointment, her body turning away. 

A loud NO in his mind broke through the cacophony of wants and needs.  A heartbeat later, they were a tangle of hands and lips and heart and mouth. Nothing mattered, nothing could matter. 

They crashed into the wall, driven by the urgent need for more, more contact, more skin, more fire, just more. Vaguely, Ji Hyuk knew he needed to get to a horizontal surface, somewhere, anywhere, but the repeated press of her sweet curves was robbing his mind of direction and aim. Then she shifted, hitching up a hip on the low dresser, opening up her legs and suddenly he was perfectly pressed up against the crotch of her white jeans. He hardened, impossibly more, and almost howled into her mouth. It came out an anguished growl.  She moaned, and it was better than in his sweaty dreams. In those dreams he had made that last thrust, had imagined the burning hot slide and the slick reception he would receive. 

What he had not imagined was the tremor in her arms and her tinny whimper. He froze. His restless hands stilled. Something was wrong. Cupping her shoulders, he leaned back, and peered into her eyes. Even half perched on the dresser, Ji Won’s head only came to his nose, and he had to bend over to get a good look. 

He caught a short, damp glance before Ji Won lowered her eyes. Her slim fingers grasped bunches of his chunky sweater at his shoulders, and an unwilling tear trickled down her cheek. 

Waves of panic hit him.  “What did I do, Kang Ji Won, tell me.” The arousal had made his normally smooth voice gravelly, and it came out harsher than he intended. 

She gulped and he felt wrong, wrong and guilty. What a monster he had been to rush her, to all but molest her. She had initiated things, yes, but that was no excuse…

He pulled back to give her space “I’m so sor—”

Immediately her hands tightened and she locked her legs around his thighs, pulling them back into full contact. Hot streaks of sexual tension burst as his cock came so near to her entrance he could feel her heat. The white jeans were a sexy, but effective barrier. He grit his teeth against the urge to thrust his hips forward.

“No, no, don’t…I just… it’s… ,” helplessly Ji Won looked up at him. The words could not form, and her eyes pleaded for understanding. 

He had not been her friend for long. But he’d watched her, for years, quietly and painfully. In recent weeks he’d even had the joy of listening to her, understanding her dreams and her new resolve to be a different woman. Now, as during those long hours in the office, he examined her minutely. His assessing gaze took in the contradiction of her teary eyes but her legs determinedly gripping him, her lingering shakes but clutching hands. Then came a suspicion that perhaps he wasn’t the source of the problem. That she possibly wanted him as much as he craved her. 

Experimentally, he grasped the hand still curled into his sweater, and locked his eyes on hers to check her response. Gently, he touched his lips to her inner wrist. That made her shudder too, but he was satisfied at the lack of alarm in her eyes.  Whatever it was terrorizing her, it wasn’t him. 

“Come, we need to talk.”

He placed her arm around his neck again, and in one easy move, slipped out of the grasp of her thighs, then turned and lifted her into his arms. He wrapped one arm securely around her back, the other under her knees, and he turned towards his living room. 

Ji Won gasped at the sense of being completely surrounded by Ji Hyuk. Then she relaxed,  trusting him and taking the comfort offered by the embrace of his wiry male body. 

---

“Tell me.”

He thrust the glass with half a finger of whiskey in it at her. She glanced first at it, then at him. 

After plopping her down, he’d purposely turned to his bar to fix her and himself a drink, and to give her a little space to compose herself.

Uncertainly, she took the drink. Ji Hyuk sat down kitty corner to her, so that he could look into her eyes as she talked. He didn’t touch her, although a part of him wanted to draw her back into his lap and carry on where they had left off. As before, at the beginning of this mad journey into the past, Ji Won looked wounded. As before, he wanted, no, he needed to tend to her first. So he waited, patiently, a frown curling his wide brow. 

Ji Won gazed, unseeing, at the twinkling frosty cityscape exposed by his panorama windows. Her lips twisted in a bitter curl. 

“I didn’t get a venereal disease from that man… but I guess he still had to leave me with something.”

Ji Hyuk stiffened at the mention of the serial cheater that was Park Min Hwan. The next second, he wanted break something. It should have been obvious that she had scars from that fool. His only excuse for not realizing earlier was that his judgement had been destroyed by the wonder of Ji Won’s kiss. 

“He hurt you. Sexually.”

Ji Won jolted a bit at the blunt frankness of his words. 

“Were you forced to have sex with him?” He could barely say the words past his clenched teeth. 

Ji Won shook her head, slowly, then a little more certainly. “In a way, that’s more difficult to admit. I thought I loved him. So I… went along.” Ji Won closed her eyes, in shame, in sorrow. 

“But I don’t think there was a time when I didn’t hate myself a bit more after.”

She heard him shift a little closer, felt the dip in the sofa as he leaned forward. Then she felt the warm clasp of his hand, wrapping her smaller hand almost completely in his. His body heat penetrated the fog of her awful memories and she marvelled. Marvelled at how good it felt, how much she already trusted this man despite confirming their feelings a few short minutes ago. 

“Then let’s do something about that.”

Ji Won opened her eyes to stare into his intense gaze. “What do you mean?”

The left corner of his mouth tipped up, and the little dent she already loved so much formed. “I’m a man with a plan Ji Won-shi. It’s what I do.” He lifted his free hand and gestured to himself. “This old man does earn a living by running an organization.”

His smile faded. “Let me date you,” he said earnestly. “Let me treat you the way a man should treat a precious woman. I want to praise and pamper you until you cannot doubt how much you’re worth. Let me touch you, pet you, make love to you. Please.”

Ji Won already felt her insides heating at his words. Her inner muscles clenched once and she licked her lower lip. His eyes immediately darted to her lips. Watching her reaction carefully, he gave her an open-mouthed, frankly sexual kiss. His tongue darted out to taste her soft lower lip, sweeping a little deeper each time.  She uttered a tiny moan, already wondering if she could handle being the focus of the intimidating man that was Yu Ji Hyuk. 

“And when you’re ready, I’ll show you what I really want to do with that white jeans of yours. ” ---

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

[mywebfoot]

In Every Winter Night, Part 4 (Marry My Husband Fanfic)

Author's note: Don't read this in the office. Really. Don't. Part 4 of 4.

--

Ji Hyuk

In the car, Ji Won sat quietly in the passenger seat. The day was over, and they were crossing the long bridge south, headed home. The highway lights passed over her rhythmically, sweeping over briefly before going dark again.  Ji Hyuk glanced over occasionally, drawn by the high line of her nose, and the exquisite shape of her lips.

He'd always thought she was beautiful, but as her confidence and assurance had grown she became regal - a queen of her own destiny, wrenching victory where others would lie defeated. He’d been attracted to her before, for her protective, nurturing side. But this, this fiercer side, was new. In recent weeks she had fundamentally changed, no, morphed, tearing her way out of old skin, to emerge like some sleek creature prone to laying quietly while hiding vicious fangs.

It made him weak in the knees. 

He knew his feelings had left like, and love a long time ago, and was dangerously close to full on worship already. 

Like this evening, at the all-team meeting. Ji Won had been killing it with her presentation, developing her proposed marketing strategy with layer after layer of data, anticipating objections and pushing back with iron-clad logic that showed she had already considered the pitfalls. He knew he sounded like an all-out nerd, admiring the genius of her analyses, but a part of him would always be the guy with the thick glasses and the cheap haircut. 

And this was despite being turned on all day by the naughty idea she had planted in his mind. 

Speaking of which, his heart had nearly stopped when, about 10 minutes into the presentation, she had paused. Then she had looked him in the eye, and said, “It’s quite warm in here, did someone turn up the thermostat? Give me a second while I take off this jacket.” His eyes had widened and words he could not say rushed through his mind, stomped screeching brakes and ended up a steaming 4-lane pileup in the middle of his brain. Which then proceeded to melt as her hands reached up to peel her jacket back and off. He couldn’t help it, his eyes went right to her breasts. 

Or… where her breasts would have been if they had not been behind some kind of …band? Ji Hyuk knew little of women’s fashion, but whatever she was wearing under her white shirt, it had no straps. Instead, like a censorship smudge, the pale material slashed across her torso, redacting her body safely and snugly away from any prying eyes, including his. He looked back up at her laughing eyes. 

He had nearly had a heart attack, and there she was laughing at him. He wanted to end the meeting right there and drag her off somewhere to smack her pert behind for the sheer torture she had put him through today. Speaking of which, he glanced over at her again, seated in his passenger seat, once again bundled in all the layers that winter dictated.

“Did you enjoy it, half-killing me today?” 

Ji Hyuk glanced at her face, and saw the rueful smile. “Maybe a little.”

His eyes turned back to the road. “It seemed like a lot more than 'a little',” he teased.

He heard the rustle of her moving, and from the corner of his eye he saw her unbuttoning her coat. 

“Too warm?”

“Yes.”

Something in her tone made him glance over. 

Then he gasped. He white-knuckled the steering wheel and somehow steered them across two lanes to the safety of the rode shoulder. An offended horn blared past, the driver flipping them off. Their car came to a shuddering, jerky stop as his foot spasmed on the brake.  

“Ji Won-sshi” was all he could say. His eyes were glued to the front of her shirt, where the chill air had made her nipples thrust into the placket of her silky shirt.  The material clung, and he learnt that she had slightly up-tilted breasts, with a generous undercurve. She was perfect.

“Touch me. Please,” she whispered, “- I..” Her voice shook, but her eyes remained trained on his. “I need you to touch me. You promised me it would be this week and all I did was think about how it would feel if you would just put your hands here.  All week, the slightest touch would make me hot, and I couldn’t stand it any more. So I wore the the tube-top today, just to have a thicker barrier than my bra.  But just now I took it off and-” and then she moaned from the heat of his hand.

He had cupped her. It was a very public area, and he wanted to protect her from prying eyes, but he couldn’t deny her, not when she was pleading for his touch. With shaking fingers, his left hand covered the luscious curve of her right breast, gently petting her. Experimentally, he squeezed, wanting to know how her flesh would give under his fingers. The car filled with the sound of desperate gasps for air, his, hers. 

Insistently, she arched her back, thrusting both breasts into the yellow street light slanting in from the windscreen. He could see the faint darker shadow of the tempting peak. With his index finger, he trailed an admiring touch over the insistent nubbin. Her body jerked, and the slight jiggle in her breasts broke him. His hand slid down to her waist, jerking her forward and burying his face between her breasts. He groaned and turned to mouth her. 

When she felt the wet lave of his tongue Ji Won’s body spasmed. Hard licks flicked her nipple through the shirt, followed by the desperate scrape of his teeth over the soaked cloth. She thrust both hands into his hair and pulled him even closer. “More, Ji Hyuk-sshi,” she whimpered. 

In the next second he was gone. She opened her eyes to protest. His face was grim and his hair stood up in tousled spikes. The fingers that until seconds ago had been loving her, gripped the steering wheel. He stared fixedly ahead as he fought to control his breathing. 

“Ji Won-sshi,” he growled. 

“Listen to me carefully. We have three and a half minutes before we reach home. For three and a half minutes, I will have to fight this damn erection and the urge to grab you. It will take everything I have.” 

He spared her one searing glance, taking in the wet, almost translucent spot on her shirt. His jaw worked and he determinedly pulled his gaze back to the road. 

“You, will now button up, and stay buttoned up. Do not move, by all that's holy, and do not make a sound or our first time will be on Seongsu Bridge, Seoul at, “ he glanced at the dashboard clock, “seven thirty-eight p.m.” 

--

Ji Won

Ji Hyuk would be a desperate but thorough lover.

That was the only thought in her head as they tore into the basement car park, and drunken parked across two lots. He got out, slammed the door behind him, and marched around to her side. She was out before he could get to her, tugging her firmly buttoned coat into place. His eyes were dark, narrowed, and the frown across his wide brow would have been intimidating if she had not known that she was the cause.

His hands came up as if in surrender. 

“Do not touch me in the lift, Ji Won-sshi. Please.” His voice came out low and strangled, but at least he could speak. She could not get a word out past the tightness in her throat. She just nodded once. 

He pushed his hands as deep as they would go into his winter coat pockets and turned, leading the way to the lift lobby. His long, urgent strides made his coat flap behind him. He stabbed at the lift button, then he turned to watch her as she caught up. She prayed no one else would get into the lift. They would smell the sex in the air. 

Finally, finally, the doors opened on his floor. Again he strode in front of her, leading the way and opening the apartment door for her to enter. The door clicked behind them and his hands came up to grasp her arms. Oddly, he didn’t pull her in, but instead leaned down to examine her face. One eyebrow lifted. 

“Are you sure?” he rasped, the arousal in his voice still apparent. “We can still just play, as much as you want. Just count what I said earlier about us making love as the madness of the moment. I want you, with every fibre of my being. But only on your time. If you turn around and leave now, I will take a cold shower and deal with it. Do you hear me, Ji Won-sshi? It only makes sense for me when it makes sense for you.”

Ji Won reached up and pulled is hand away, one, then the other. They dropped to his sides. 

Then she lifted her chin, kept her eyes on him, and slid her coat and jacket off her shoulders. It hit the floor. His eyes narrowed, his breath quickened, but still he waited. 

With the tiniest tremor, she reached up and unbuttoned her shirt. One button. Two. And then the rest. The silken barrier whispered open. She watched him stare at her, and saw his eyes devour every inch of exposed skin. His gaze slid down,  tracing her creamy cleavage, before it reached her taut belly button. She put one hand on his forearm, still in his coat, the bunching muscles underneath twisting at her touch. She slid her hand down, till she could twine her fingers with his. 

She led him to his huge sofa, tugging him behind her. “Sit,” was all she said. 

He sat, putting his head even with her breasts. They had not turned on the living room lights, so the only source of light came from the city laid out below them, a wintry blue outline on every surface of the room. Boldly, she slipped out of her shirt, and it slid down her shoulders, the material catching briefly on the tips before it sighed to the floor.  He swore, and stared fixedly at her exposed breasts. Her nipples stood proudly, turgid and flushed, as they had been all day.   

“Take me,” she breathed.

His hands immediately came up to span her waist. He tugged her near, and opened his mouth over her, but this time nothing was protecting her from the searing sensation of his slippery, sensous tongue on her. Their moans filled the air. Breathing became difficult and she whimpered and squirmed in his arms. The scratchy roughness of his coat brushed the skin of her uncovered back and arms, almost overwhelming her with the stimulation. 

Her fingers dug into his wide shoulders, and she buried her nose into his hair, breathing in his spicy male scent, some beguiling mix of Yu Ji Hyuk and clean soap. She drove all her fingers through his silky hair, guiding him from left to right and then back again,  as he tugged and loved her breasts. She couldn’t help it, and writhed and squirmed back and forth, unwittingly pulling her breast out of his mouth with a soft pop.

Now, the only thing holding her steady were his strong hands, spreading restlessly over waist and  back, sliding over her skirt-covered behind to drag her body over his. 

She wanted to straddle him, but her pencil skirt didn’t have much room. So she reached down and tugged it up. Ji Hyuk felt the motion and he leaned back to relish the incoming view. Her body was bisected by a tight band of black pencil skirt, with bare, glistening nakedness above, and a tempting wisp of lingerie below. The tiny, silky triangle of white lace protected her, for now. He swore, and whispered his desire for her, telling her in shocking details the things he wanted to do with her, in that low rough-edged voice. He was  factual, specific and to the point, as was his style.  She was scandalized, but his words made images form in her mind, of sweaty tangled bodies, of his muscled back as he thrust into her, of pure pleasure. 

“Do you want all that, Ji Won-sshi?” he half-groaned the words. “Or tell me it’s too early and we’ll stop now.”

She shook her head desperately, pride schooled by her frantic need for this man. "More."

With a deep growl he wrapped her legs around his waist and stood up. One muscled arm wrapped around her waist, the other grabbed her behind. 

He put his lips to her ear and rasped, “To the room then.”

--

Ji Hyuk

He wanted badly to make their first night special. But that was when he still could think. 

Now, as he laid her out under him, he could only act. He shucked his jacket, frantic hands throwing everything to the floor with abandon. He toed off his shoes and fumbled and tugged his shirt over his head in the same motion. She just lay in bed, her lithe curves outlined by moon and city lights, wickedly half-dressed with her skirt around her waist and the little triangle of lace winking at him as she raised one knee. His pants and underwear were flung away and he joined her in bed. 

He twisted his fingers around the tiny scrap of lace and tugged hard. It ripped and he was not sorry. Something feral had woken in him when they met again in 2013, and it would not be soothed. Their little seduction agreement had unleashed that underlying monstrous need for her. Their love play had merely whetted the beast’s appetite. She opened her legs with a gasp, he immediately sunk in and everything, everything became searing white heat. 

Her fingers dug into his back, clutched his butt and she arched,  half-crying as she came. The ridiculous speed of her orgasm surprised him, and his body went rigid. He groaned senseless, begging words into her ear, fighting for some shred of control as her inner muscles throbbed and pulsed around him. She writhed sensually under him milking him thoroughly.

He tried to last a little longer, tried to keep grinding his hips to maximize her pleasure, but just like her, he went down.  The waves of lava heat burned through him and crashed over him, drowning him in the smell, shape and red spice of her. His hips jerked wild and uncoordinated, his chest and belly slid against hers and he came blindingly hard. 

--

In every winter night, In every summer day, In the flights of spring, in the spirals of fall, You're in my minutes, in my meals, in my shoes, In the big, in the small, You're my everything, my all.

--

Author's note: Well. Ahem. I was trying to give them a beautiful first night to remember. But Yu Ji Hyuk happened. He gave me a tiny smirk and he whispered in her ear, and there went all my plans.

I really wanted to finish this before the finale, so please excuse typos and weird transitions.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

[katzebruh]

The Marinette from my kwami swap AU is a bit unhinged and I live for it

Added laughing Plagg for those asking

[buggachat]

worth every mop

part of my Modern Vampire Marinette AU (intro | tag)

(Support me on ko-fi if you'd like!)

[mossing-around]

You know those posts about one of Bruce’s kids getting kidnapped and him having no idea which kid they have based on the vague descriptions he’s given? Well now I can’t only imagine Bruce getting the dreaded call and immediately pulling out a guess who board filled entirely with his kids. Like

kidnapper: we have one of your children

Bruce: I have so many of those you need to be more specific

kidnapper: the loud and annoying one

Bruce, flipping down Cass and Duke: that does not help as much as you think it does

kidnapper: well he has black hair?

Bruce, flips down Steph: keep going

kidnapper: uhhhh? He’s short?

Bruce, flips down Dick and Jason leaving Tim and Damian: more specific

kidnapper: he’s been condescending and judgmental since we got him

Bruce: yeah they both tend to do that

kidnapper: he keeps throwing around words I don’t understand

Bruce, realizing that Damian and Tim are significantly more similar than he thought: uhh more specific?

kidnapper: more?? look just wore us the mon— WHERE’D HE HIDE A KATANA???

Bruce: ah you have Damian

[robs-your-robins]

The Riddler probably has such an up and down relationship with the Robins because they all tend to tackle things differently and he’s always so thrown by how they handle his riddles.

The Riddler: To free Batman from my trap, you must answer this riddle, little bird. I speak without a mouth and hear without ears. I have no body, but I come alive with wind. What am I?

Dick, eight years old and freshly Robin: *thinking really hard*

The Riddler looking at Batman dangling upside down: ?

Batman: He just needs an extra minute.

The Riddler:

Batman: English isn’t his first langauge.

The Riddler, feeling a little bad: oh, that’s… take your time, buddy.

Jason, twelve years old: *lifting a hand*

The Riddler: -uh, yes?

Jason: Can you repeat that? The riddle?

The Riddler: um, yeah, sure. I have cities, but no houses. I have mountains, but no trees. I have water, but no fish. What am I?

Jason: Yeah, you’re a map but when you’re talking about multiple species of fish, which you probably are, you can say fishes. If you’re using fish, you’re only talking about one species.

The Riddler:

Jason: I just think you should know that. You know as a “genius”

The Riddler: The more you take, the more you -

Tim: Footsteps, where’s Batman?

The Riddler: No, you have to let me-

Tim: Nuh-uh

The Riddler: The fuck do you mean “nuh-uh”? Who raised you?

Tim, on two hours sleep, with two essays due on this fine Thursday night: *fucking launches himself at The Riddler*

The Riddler: I wear a mask but not to hide,

Steph: It's you. You're the answer.

The Riddler: You have to let me finish.

Steph, mimicking him: YOu HaVE tO LEt mE FIniSH

The Riddler: I have-

Damian: *launches himself at the Riddler*

The Riddler: Batman, fuck, FUCK, he’s fucking biting me-

[randomflower-in-a-field]

Damien saying "I know a guy" but it's just Marinette in various costumes

I have this idea that won't leave me alone, so I thought I'd share it so that others may be cursed with thinking about it too.

(This can be read as either sibling or dating Daminette)

Damien is all grown up and joined the Justice League as a permanent hero. Everyone knows he was Robin, so they think there won't be any surprises. Until there's a big mission and they need to infiltrate somewhere and plant cameras for evidence (or something). However, this place is a fortress (like the best anti-hero security money can buy) and the only way in is through the vents which are too small for humans to fit through.

The Justice League meeting turns into one big loud argument. Until Damien says, "I know a guy."

Obviously, he's very dodgy about his contact, but he says they can be trusted. Since, he's Robin, they let it slide.

The Justice League is all waiting at the contact spot when Marinette pulls up. They're confused, Damien is light-tipped, and she's in her multimouse ensemble looking all cute.

Marinette pulls off the mission then dips and Damien is stubborn even when Batman questions him. (Could be either good parent or bad parent Bruce Wayne).

Eventually, they let it drop. Until another big mission happens and they need a specific skill set and Damien says, "I know a guy." Cue Marinette with a different miraculous.

This keeps happening.

The Justice League assumes all the girls are different people and they're very confused like, "Robin, where do you keep finding these girls?"

Cue lots of half thought-out shenanigans

[littleinkling64]

more things I don't have the time to write out fully but I can dream....

Jason did, he thought, a pretty admirable job of not throwing Bruce's hand off his good shoulder as they stood in a corner for a breather. Big fancy parties like these weren't usually his cup of tea on a good day. Nursing a shoulder still sore from being put back in socket the night before--still in a sling, to boot--only made the itching sensation of being observed even worse.

"I'm sorry," Bruce murmured softly, in that stilted way of his. "As soon as we've made an appearance for at least another hour, I can have Alfred drive you home. No one expects you to be here all night, least of all me."

Jason didn't answer at first. The crowd just outside their small sanctuary, shielded by the large fanning leaves of an indoor plant, milled about talking, talking, talking. From a distance, it looked peaceful. Beautiful, even. All those glittering pieces of jewelry and glimmering, slicked-back hairdos and expertly tailored suits and dresses.

He knew from recent experience that up close, the sight was vicious crimson streaked across a dozen faces. A backhanded compliment--a stab there. A veiled threat of lawsuit or buyout--a slash here. It was a battlefield balanced on a tightrope, and Jason had two left feet. He could see the aftermath on people's faces--he'd always been good at that. You had to be, on the open street, where your wits were a flimsy shield against death at every corner.

He could barely follow the words they used, but he could still understand what they meant. Just because he was still catching up in school didn't mean he was dumb.

Not that people paying 10,000 dollars a plate for an event like this cared. The best he was to them was an in with Bruce, and even that was a dubious pursuit for most of them. It hadn't taken long for his temper to make an appearance the first time, and he had no doubt it would make another appearance tonight if he couldn't manage to hold out for another hour. Then he could go home. Go home and sit with a cup of tea and return to the Shire, leaving all the sharp smiles outside the pages of a book.

Then he frowned. "Alfred would pick me up? What about you?"

Bruce smiled at that--one of those soft little smiles that barely touched the edges of his mouth. A real smile that was neither Batman nor Brucie, but something underneath both.

"Don't worry about me. I've been attending these events long before I met you, and I've managed to survive."

Something stiffened in Jason's shoulders at that. Something proud and stubborn and fierce that made a home in his chest.

"Then I'm staying."

"Chum, you're injured. Anyone would understand you being tired."

Jason shook his head. "We're partners." When Bruce didn't answer, he prompted, "Right?"

Bruce leaned in a little closer, as if anyone could possibly be listening to them right now, and slowly replied, "Right."

"Then I'm not leaving."

Bruce looked at him again then, with eyes lit up like the moon on a clear Gotham night, and Jason felt the rightness of the decision settle in his gut. Even if his shoulder hated him for it tomorrow. The sling only did so much when he was constantly moving around a ballroom and meeting obnoxious people.

They both turned just in time to see Edith Hugh staring in their collective direction. Worse still, she was walking with the kind of purpose you did when you wanted to give someone a piece of your mind. Jason flinched at her approach and cursed himself for it, but when he looked up at Bruce, the man was making an expression that said he was feeling about the same.

"Divide and conquer. I'll head her off and you get us some refreshments, eh?"

It was a distraction tactic if ever Jason had seen one, but he wasn't about to argue the point. He'd agreed to stay the length of the event, not duel with the Hugh matriarch. He happily skittered off towards the back, where waiters were ducking in and out of the swinging doors on a scheduled interval. It'd be easier to snag one carrying a fresh tray if he caught them right as they left.

By the third tray of caviar, duck pâté and raw salmon, Jason was swiftly losing hope in something edible coming his way. He tried to keep his chin up, however, and was watching so intently for the heavy doors of the kitchen that he missed the voice right by his ear.

"Not a fan of caviar, huh?"

Jason whirled to see a girl, perhaps his age, standing there with a bus pan and apron, her collared polo marked with the brand of the catering company. Glancing around at the waiters with their much sharper outfits, it didn't take a genius to guess she wasn't supposed to be out here on the floor.

Jason said something to this effect, blurted out and awkward, and the girl frowned.

"Well, no, but--you seemed like you were having a hard time." She said defensively. She had freckles on her nose like scattered sand, he realized with a start, and he quickly shook himself.

"Well I'm doing just fine." Jason said pointedly, waving with his good arm. "No hard times here."

The girl looked a little hurt, then snorted. "Sure, okay." She started to pack up her bus tray, darting glances between the swinging doors and Jason. Then, with an over-exaggerated sigh, she added:

"Too bad. If you'll excuse me, I have to go eat commoner dumplings in the back."

Jason paused.

"You guys have dumplings back there?"

"Yep. Hot pot too. My maman made it fresh."

Now that got his attention. Alfred--bless his English soul--did not make much in the way of fiery food. Well-seasoned and flavorful, yes. Spicy like traditional hot pot--like the kind his old neighbors used to make on Thursday nights until they got evicted from their ratty apartment building--not so much.

"Would your maman mind?"

The girl grinned.

Which was how Jason found himself holding a pair of chopsticks awkwardly in his good hand, nestled between the girl with the bus tray, another girl around the same age with fluffy reddish-brown hair, and a youngish adult sitting around a small pot filled with boiling hot broth.

"I'm Marie, by the way." Bus tray girl said, still smiling as she fixed a bowl with several chunks of blanched meat and veg before holding it above her head. It was taken by a passing woman with similar features and a bark of mandarin that sounded equal parts affectionate and reprimanding.

"I'm Alya," the girl with reddish-brown hair said, also taking a bowlful of hotpot--this time for herself--before digging in. Marie selected a few dumplings from the plate in the center of the table before carefully spearing one through. Steaming broth poured from the incision.

"What's that?"

"Long xio bao--soup dumplings."

"They look good," Jason admitted, pleased when Marie passed him the plate.

"They are good." She grinned.

The older girl at the table snorted. "Sure. Tell that to mom next time she and Auntie Sabine butts heads over menu."

Marie scowled, her chin aloft in scorn. "No one asked for your opinion, Nora."

"And yet I've so generously shared it with you, ungrateful brat." Nora replied magnanimously.

"Butthead."

"Ah-ah-ah--don't let Aunt Sabine hear you say that." The older girl, Nora, put on an expression of mock outrage. "My daughter? Swearing like an American? Unacceptable!"

Jason pointedly did not bring up that the "swear" was so mild it hadn't even registered when Marie had said it. Although that might also have been due to the hot pot and dumplings. So sue him, they were good and he was distracted.

The girls bickered for a moment or two more, then they all settled down to the task of eating and were silent. After a long battle to stuff in more, Jason finally laid down his chopsticks and declared defeat.

"Da--darn. Why don't you serve this for dinner? It's miles better than the crap they've got out there." The words caught up to him and he winced. "I mean--not that you guys are doing a bad job or anything--"

"Relax, rich boy. We know what you meant." Alya said forgivingly. "Caviar's got more social clout to it, so that's what they ask for and that's what we serve. There are probably two people on planet earth who actually like it. Everyone else pretends to because everybody eats caviar darling, of course." She finished the sentence in a drippy, melodramatic tone, flinging a hand over her eyes for added effect. Jason fought a snicker at the sight.

"It kind of sucks, sure, but at least that means more hot pot for us." Marie added, her tone chipper for being so late at night.

"Yeah, until Aunt Sabine catches you slacking off and packs it up." Nora cut in, rising from the table. "I'm up for dish duty. Do not touch my bean buns or I will end you both on sight."

Nora promptly left, leaving the two remaining girls to roll their eyes at each other.

"She's really a big softie on the inside," Marie whispered to Jason, even after Nora was out of earshot. "But she's gotta act cool for us, since we're just the peon little siblings."

Jason nodded, "I've got a brother like that."

Not that Dick was around all that much.

"Cool." Marie said, and she sounded surprisingly genuine. "I kind of wish I had an older brother."

"No you don't." Jason snorted, handing his bowl to Marie when she held out a hand to take it. She replaced it with a tea cup and carefully set out an enormous teapot with chipped blue dragons curling up the side.

After a few minutes, Marie removed the tea leaves inside and carefully poured Jason a cup. He was just about to take a sip when a familiar voice sent dread hurtling to the pit of his stomach.

"Jason! There you are!"

Jason, Marie, and Alya all looked up at once and blanched at the sight of Bruce accompanied by two women in matching company polos who looked an awful lot like Alya and Marie. Marie stood up suddenly, her chair scooting back with a harsh scrape across the floor.

For a moment, all of them stared at one another, before Marie blurted out:

"I'm sorry, sir, it's my fault. I invited him to join us. I didn't realize you were looking for him."

Bruce didn't look angry, but then again Jason hadn't known him for that long. And the man could act.

"Marie, what is the meaning of this?" A woman with Asian features and short-cropped hair around her ears pierced Marie with a look of parental disbelief. She opened her mouth again to speak, but Bruce held up a hand.

"Jason?" He asked, and Jason knew it wasn't so much a question as an order of explain.

"She--Marie noticed I couldn't find much to eat in the fancy food so she invited me to eat back here, with them. It was really good too." Jason felt obligated to add the last part since the Asian woman--Marie's mother, perhaps--looked stricken at the whole situation. Her face didn't even twitch at the compliment.

"That and, well, there's only cocktail tables in the main foyer and I thought Jason could use a break from standing. Since his arm's got to be hurting." Marie added quickly.

Jason blinked, momentarily stunned, but hastily nodded.

Bruce mulled this over. Then he turned to Jason.

"Next time you need a break, I'd prefer you tell me where you're headed before you take off."

Jason didn't flinch at the public reprimand, but it was a near thing.

"Second--what is your name, madam?"

"Sabine Dupain-Cheng." The woman answered, pale but unflinching. "I'm sorry to say my children have behaved this way at such an important event, but I assure you--"

Bruce stopped her. "On the contrary, Madam, I am delighted."

And there was Brucie, making an appearance for the fifteenth time that night.

"Your daughter--is this your daughter?" Bruce continued when the woman nodded, "Your daughter's attention to detail is remarkable. In fact, I have a little soiree coming up soon and I could use staff like yours--would you be interested in talking contract terms?"

The woman stumbled through an affirmative answer before sweeping Bruce toward the kitchen with a grand gesture.

"But of course--we pride ourselves on service. Let's talk scheduling..."

As Bruce gestured he follow, Jason glanced back at Marie and caught one final, tentative grin before he lost sight of her.

[littleinkling64]

uuuuggggh I couldn't resist drawing a little doodle for the little writing sketch I did earlier

Jason: *ascending to the heavens via hot pot and dumplings* Marie: yes....yes.....we'll be friends for life now

the idea of childhood jasonette where he literally just goes over to her house where both the Dupain-Chengs and the Cesaires just feed him all the time is sooo tasty to me

imagine the Alfred/Dupain-Cheng & Cesaire rivalry. imagine him making more and more elaborate meals to compete for Best Cook while marinette and her extended family/coworkers are just happy the kids are making friends in Jersey--of course they're gonna feed him that's basic manners lol

basically childhood Jasonette where he's not even like "dang this girl is cute" and more like "dang I need to marry into this family and this girl is cute"

side note the sketch for this was veeeeerry rough. trying something a little new by sketching really really quick and moving into color first, then adding lines as needed. trying to preserve that initial movement/gesture from my sketches without the perfectionism and hyperfixation that comes from trying to refine it to death lol

[littleinkling64]

another idea, another au......

Okay, now picture the typical setup to a "Tim joins the batfam early" story: Jack and Janet drake die in a plane crash while traveling, and when the funeral takes place, everyone--including Tim--is surprised to see Aunt Marianne Drake show up. since she was Jack Drake's younger half-sister from a hushed-up affair, she was shipped off to boarding school in France, where she learned a kind of magical martial arts from Wang Fu while growing up there. Despite being shunned by most of the Drake family, the elder Drake (Tim's grandfather) recognized the classic iron Drake will in Marianne and decided to keep her in the will, making her the closest legal (and blood) family to Tim.

In this AU I imagine she uses a bo staff for her magical martial arts and teaches Tim some of his heritage, since there is magical blood in the Drake line and Tim shows aptitude for it.

BUT most importantly, while Marianne is trying to balance raising a grieving 10-year-old at 25, she decides, "hey, you know what? We have a neighbor with a 14yo (Jason)--they should have a playdate!" Obviously Tim is mortified because he's still deep into his Batman and Robin fanboy phase, but he can't really tell his aunt that, so she does it anyways.

And of course, one weekend Dick comes up for a visit, takes one look at their impeccably dressed neighbor doing bo staff katas in the front yard with Tim, and gets proverbial heart-eyes.

(Also this is like, battle-hardened Devil Wears Prada-style Marinette who's come straight out of the trenches of Parisian fashion houses and does not take passive-aggressive flack from anyone. Especially not hoity-toity rich people with nothing better to do. This makes her Jason's hero.)

Marianne: oh how was school? Tim: okay! I mean, a couple people said I looked like a drowned rat but other than that it was pretty good! :) Marianne: ... Marianne: Tim, honey, I've seen their mothers in the pickup line wearing knock-off Chanel. their children have not earned the right to call you ugly.

tl:dr Marinette is the cool hot fashion aunt

[randomflower-in-a-field]

Damien saying "I know a guy" but it's just Marinette in various costumes

I have this idea that won't leave me alone, so I thought I'd share it so that others may be cursed with thinking about it too.

(This can be read as either sibling or dating Daminette)

Damien is all grown up and joined the Justice League as a permanent hero. Everyone knows he was Robin, so they think there won't be any surprises. Until there's a big mission and they need to infiltrate somewhere and plant cameras for evidence (or something). However, this place is a fortress (like the best anti-hero security money can buy) and the only way in is through the vents which are too small for humans to fit through.

The Justice League meeting turns into one big loud argument. Until Damien says, "I know a guy."

Obviously, he's very dodgy about his contact, but he says they can be trusted. Since, he's Robin, they let it slide.

The Justice League is all waiting at the contact spot when Marinette pulls up. They're confused, Damien is light-tipped, and she's in her multimouse ensemble looking all cute.

Marinette pulls off the mission then dips and Damien is stubborn even when Batman questions him. (Could be either good parent or bad parent Bruce Wayne).

Eventually, they let it drop. Until another big mission happens and they need a specific skill set and Damien says, "I know a guy." Cue Marinette with a different miraculous.

This keeps happening.

The Justice League assumes all the girls are different people and they're very confused like, "Robin, where do you keep finding these girls?"

Cue lots of half thought-out shenanigans

[buggachat]

eh, screw it *releases my fucked up vampire au from the confines of my mind*

anyway I decided my blog is for me and I can draw and post all the weird silly concepts of my dreams and nobody can stop me. I actually have a lot of potential comic ideas ping-ponging in my head for this AU — not a linear story or anything (beyond what's on this post), just some good fun and shenanigans.

bonus:

[chaoticcutielover]

Red Hood and the girl who bakes

Ao3 link

Shanghai, China – 2:17 a.m.

The rooftop was silent—until it wasn’t.

Marinette blinked awake at the sound of a thud. It wasn’t thunder. It wasn’t the creak of old wood. It was the solid, heavy kind of noise that only happened when something hit the roof that shouldn’t be on a roof.

She grabbed the closest weapon she had—a rolling pin—and slipped out of the warm kitchen of her Uncle Wang's apartment.

Outside, the air was cool and damp. The moon was low and soft over the tiled rooftops. Her slippers made no sound as she climbed the short ladder to the top, her rolling pin at the ready.

Then she saw him.

A man in a red helmet. Leather jacket. Black gear. Bleeding. He was sprawled across her uncle’s rooftop like a fallen bat, one arm clutching his side. The other—holding a gun that was now out of reach.

“…You good?” Marinette asked, lowering her weapon.

The man groaned.

“Wrong roof,” he grunted. “Go back inside.”

“You’re bleeding on my uncle’s roof,” she said, stepping closer. “And he just re-tiled it.”

“Lady, I have a bullet in my ribs.”

“And I have a rolling pin and a grumpy uncle who values tilework. You want help or not?”

There was a long pause.

“…Do you have alcohol?”

“I have baijiu.”

“Close enough.”

---

2:33 a.m.

He was wayyyyy heavier than he looked. She dragged him inside, laid him across the kitchen table, and got to work. First alcohol, then gauze. Then needle and thread.

“You’re not a civilian,” he said hoarsely, helmet and mask removed and sitting on the floor.

She didn’t look up. “And you’re not a tourist.”

“Who taught you to stitch up bullet wounds?”

“My ex-boyfriend had enemies. Long story.”

He hissed as she tightened a knot. “So you’re just out here in China for fun?”

“I’m visiting family. Uncle Wang lets me stay when I need time to… disappear.”

“…Same.”

She paused, then finally looked at him. Dark hair. Strong jaw. Piercing blue eyes cold as tempered steel, filled with exhaustion and caution and guilt.

“You have a name?” she asked.

“…Jason.”

“Jason what?”

He gave her a look.

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Jason Whatever. I’m Marinette.”

He looked down at her bloodstained fingers. “You’re good at this.”

“I sew and bake,” she said with a shrug. “Precision helps.”

Jason snorted. “You stitched me up like a croissant."

----

🧁3:03 a.m.

She handed him a still-warm pork bun and cookies.

He stared at it. “Are you feeding me?”

“You bled all over my uncle’s kitchen. You’re lucky I didn’t hit you.”

Jason took both the bun and a cookie. Chewed. Groaned. “You’re a witch.”

Marinette smirked. “I get that a lot.”

They sat in silence for a bit. He didn’t ask why she wasn’t scared. She didn’t ask why he was injured, or who he’d been fighting.

Some things don’t need answers.

But just before dawn, as he stood to leave—

“Don’t die,” she said softly, handing him his helmet.

He paused. Helmet in one hand. Food in the other.

“…You got a phone?”

She raised a brow. “You wanna call me or track me?”

“…Both.”

She gave him her burner number.

Just in case.

---

🕰️ 2 Years Later – Gotham City

Wayne Manor – Present Day

Jason slammed a grocery bag on the kitchen island. “If anyone touches the tarte Tatin in this bag, I’m fighting them.”

Tim peeked in. “Is that from her?”

Jason narrowed his eyes. “Marinette is not ‘her.’ She’s my pastry witch and you will respect her almond crust.”

“She’s in town again?” Dick called from the living room. “Tell her she still owes me a batch of those lavender macarons and Nightwing themed cookies!”

“Tell her yourself,” Jason snapped.

“What, is she coming over?”

Jason grinned.

The kitchen door opened revealing Alfred and Marinette.

“Hi everyone!” Marinette chirped, stepping inside with a bag full of baked goods and wearing a soft blue hoodie. “I brought food!”

Jason beamed. “See? Little sister privilege. You’re all beneath me.”

---

Across the kitchen…

Damian Wayne looked up from his book.

And stared.

She was shorter than he expected. Freckles. Black hair up in a messy bun. Eyes like calm ocean.

Damian hated how fast his heartbeat is.

She turned and saw him.

Their eyes locked.

He blinked. She smiled.

Jason watched the whole thing.

Groaned.

And glared.

“...Oh hell no.”

[damienhaaas]

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[science-junkie]

… and here is a gift for all of us.

[goddess47]

So I can find this again! Great list!

[clairificusrex]

Don’t lose this post

[jasminose]

I love this post more then anything

[jasminose]

Title: Asshole Tax and Wedding Bells

A/N: Marinette thinks they just landed a dream client. Instead, they just adopted a feral Batcat and her billionaire chaos family.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was a legend in the wedding planning world.

She didn’t just organize weddings—she saved them.

When venues burned down? She had backups.

When dresses ripped, tore, or got wine-spilled by drunk aunts with boundary issues? She sewed new ones—by hand, overnight.

When bridezillas turned into full kaijus mid-ceremony, Marinette tranquilized them with perfectly brewed jasmine tea and a thousand-yard stare that made even the most stubborn mother-in-law fold.

And the best part? No one knew how she did it. Just that she did. Every time.

Well. Almost no one knew.

Behind the curtain, hidden in her glitter-covered office was a collection of magical gods disguised as chattering trinkets.

“Don’t book the Villa di Magnifico,” barked Tikki one morning. “The energy is rancid. Someone will fall in the koi pond. Again.”

“Tell the Jones couple not to elope,” buzzed Nooroo, floating lazily. “He’s still texting his ex. Ugh. Mortals.”

“Charge double for the ones who ask for ‘a Boho Fairy Woodland Cosplay Princess wedding but on a $200 budget.’” growled Plagg, who was currently lounging in a vintage teacup. “Pain in my whiskers.”

Thus, with the collective power of the Kwamis’ ancient wisdom and Marinette’s type-A perfectionism, the business soared. Soirée Saveurs had its name whispered between celebrities, politicians, and socialites. Some said she was psychic. Others called her a miracle worker.

One person called her dangerous.

That person? Selina Kyle.

And she meant it as a compliment.

The first time Selina saw Marinette, she was elbow-deep in silk and tears, sewing a wedding dress in the supply closet of a vineyard, lit only by the glow of emergency fairy lights and spite.

The bride’s designer gown had been ruined by a jealous cousin with a red wine “accident.”

Marinette just smiled, tied her hair up, and got to work.

By dawn, the bride walked down the aisle in a gown more beautiful than the original—one that sparkled with hand-sewn beads, magic-infused lace, and a vengeance that could cut glass.

Selina fell in love. Not romantically—she had Bruce for that—but on a primal “I-will-collect-you-like-a-shiny-rock” level.

“You’re planning our wedding,” she declared, dragging Bruce into Marinette’s Parisian office a week later.

Bruce had protested at first. Not because he didn’t trust Selina’s taste—he did. Mostly. But because his kids were feral, Alfred was passive-aggressively stressed, and he was emotionally allergic to planning anything.

Then he met Marinette.

She was young. Too young. Barely mid-twenties and already commanding meetings with New York’s elite like she had them tied in ribbons.

And yet…

He watched as she effortlessly rearranged their wedding timeline, suggested alternate locations based on Selina’s preference for moonlight and Bruce’s tragic inability to survive pollen, and even offered a side service for “handling dramatic relatives with grace and quiet violence.”

Bruce blinked. “You’re… thorough.”

Marinette gave a business-cute smile. “Mr. Wayne, I’ve single-handedly prevented five divorces, seven scandals, and one cult uprising disguised as a bachelorette party. I have to be thorough.”

Selina beamed. “We’re hiring her.”

In the car, moments after leaving Marinette’s office…

Selina slowly turned her head to Bruce. Expression unreadable.

“I’m only going to ask this once,” she said, voice low, nails tapping against the leather armrest. “Did you sleep with the wedding planner?”

Bruce opened his mouth, closed it. Rubbed his temples.

“No,” he said at last. “I slept with her mother.”

Selina stared. The silence was absolute.

“…If we just met your kid and didn’t invite them to the wedding,” she said slowly, “I swear, Bruce, I’m about to make this cost you so much fucking money that you’ll actually feel it.”

Bruce sighed.

“I’ll get the checkbook ready,” he said, resigned. “We’ll add her to the guest list.”

Meanwhile… in Marinette’s office…

The second they walked out, Marinette threw off her heels and moonwalked across her floor.

“Asshole tax~ Asshole tax~” she sang, scribbling numbers in her invoice like an ecstatic goblin. “Gonna add the asshole tax~ Asshole tax~ Gonna fuckin’ tax his ass~”

Tikki floated nearby, munching on a croissant.

“You do know what you just signed up for, right?”

“Yeah,” Marinette grinned. “Free press. Gotham elite. Triple rates.”

“Bruce Wayne’s long-lost daughter, apparently,” Plagg deadpanned.

Marinette froze. “Wait, what?”

Kwamis: 😬😬😬

Later, in Wayne Manor…

“Father,” Damian scowled, flipping through the guest list. “Who is Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”

Bruce: “...Your sister... maybe..” he says calmly as he reads the newspapers.

Tim: spits coffee

Dick: “WE HAVE A SISTER?!”

Jason: “Told you he was hiding bastards.”

Steph: “This is gonna be the best wedding ever.”

Cass: already crocheting a welcome sweater

And somewhere in an apartment…

Marinette picked up her phone to see fifteen missed calls from a Gotham number.

She looked at Tikki. “So, how bad could it be?”

Tikki sighed. “You ever seen a wedding planner get adopted by a billion-dollar vigilante crime family?”

Marinette blinked.

“...Do they tip well?”

I was half asleep when writing this, so sorry for the mistakes

[multifandomscribette]

Dame Chanceuse Conture AU

Also could be called the From the Ground Up AU. ‘Dame Chanceuse Conture’ means Lucky Lady Tailoring in French. Please tell me which one you prefer?

Château des chevaliers et magie AU

Selena/Harley/Ivy DCC AU (cont. of this)

Riddler/Penguin DCC AU (cont.)

Two-Face/Scarecrow (cont.)

Mad Hatter/Baby Doll (cont.)

Girls Night Out (cont.)

Calendar Girl/Lex Luthor (cont.)

Deadshot/Talia Al Ghul (cont.)

Zatanna

The Devil and The Goddess Of Crime Alley

The Angel Of Gotham Goes To The City Of Angels

Hufflepuff The Puffin!

Killer Croc/Red Hood!

John Constantine Doesn’t Know What To Think of The Goddess In Gotham

Mari and Mar’i!

Cat’s Meow

Talia’s Tea Time

Wedding Of The Millennium

Side Effects Of Being A Ladybug

Music Meister

To see everything they has to do with this AU check out #dame chanceuse couture !

Basic Outline

Marinette moved / ran away to Gotham to get away the situation in Paris

Adrien started stalking her, she got a restraining order but it didn’t do much to stop him

Hawkmoth was defeated, Gabriel was arrested, Natalie fell into a coma

Fu died shortly after the final battle, leaving Marinette as the Guardian

Lila completely isolated her and pushed Adrien to go after her, saying she should repay him for destroying his life even though it’s not her fault.

Stole the cat miraculous from Adrien before leaving

Marinette goes by Marianne Fu

Prefers to be called ‘Anne’ because Mari brings up too many memories

Wanted to give a tribute to Master Fu and Marianne Lenoir

Is the guardian now

Keeps the box within arms reach or in a safe place at all times

Rotates which miraculous she wears but always wears the Cat and Ladybug Miraculous

Finds an abandoned boutique in Crime Alley with an apartment over it and moves in because she needs shelter, having lived on the streets up until that point

Finds a lot of amazing supplies that are pretty high quality fabrics in there and starts designing with them

Designed dresses, suits and accessories, which she tries to sell during the day on the higher end streets of Gotham, which is largely unsuccessful.

She is eventually discovered by Catwoman / Selena Kyle, who commissions her for an outfit for a gala. Selena than introduced Ivy and Harley to her boutique, and they loved her work, started commissioning her too and that eventually lead to a boom in popularity with the Gotham Rogues

Tell me if you want see more of this AU!

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