What time is it? It's June and that means the beginning of @maribat-bpm's Maribat Bio Parent Month 2026! And this year, I plan on trying to use different characters for the prompts (let's see if I can stick to it.)
So here's Day 1: Unconditional Love
Bio Parent: Pamela Isley, Kid: Rose Lavillant
This scene was the inspo for this fic. Enjoy!
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AO3
What is love?
Was it the joy you got when the new pair of shoes you got didnât pinch your foot and fit snuggly?
Was it the relief you got when your favorite brand of snacks was still in production despite having said they were going out of business around half a year ago?
Was it the giddiness you got when you found that the new shirt you were eyeing since the day you saw it in stores suited you to a âtâ and were able to buy it then and there?
Was it the drowsiness you felt upon sitting under the sun in the garden, watching the clouds past by and watching as the scarlet sky became a dark blue ocean peppered with twinkling stars?
Or was it the nostalgia you experienced when the new drink at your favorite cafe smelled just like the hot cocoa your mom once used to make you when you were a child?
Was it the feeling you got when everything in life just felt right?
If you asked Pamela Isley the question, she knew she wouldnât be able to answer a fraction of that question.
Seeing your mother get beaten for standing up for you, seeing her get murdered in front of you, living with a relative who kept you at arms length, going to college for the sake of keeping the mind occupied and away from your childhood memoriesâŠ
Pamela couldnât exactly say she loved the ability to essentially brainwash those around her with her - if anything, she took pride in being able to control those who stood in her way.
Yet not everyone thought doing this was okay, that this was morally and ethically wrongâŠlike Mr.Wayne.
He rejected her idea to use her pheromone pills to control his business partners and fired her on the spot for thinking of âsuch a thingâ...
So here she was, alone in her apartment, wondering what she should be doing next. As Mr.Wayne basically confiscated all of her pheromone search, she did what she could do with the machinery she had at home: experiment.
Seeing as she could no longer continue with pheromone experimentation, she decided to play around with what she could, leading her to test if she could grow a human from a plant by splicing and modifying human stem cells and plant genetics.Â
She decided to use pomegranate seeds and her own DNA, seeing as it was the easiest for her to collect and obtain.
As with every experiment, she knew she wasnât going to get this on the first tryâŠyet she didnât expect for her experiment to bear fruit on her first tryâŠquite literally.Â
She had modified the plantâs genes to prevent the plants from making fruits, diverting the energy to create humans from the stems and leaves of the plant instead.Â
So how did she end up with this?
There, on the edge of a branch, Pamela noticed what resembled a pomegranate .Â
A ripe, plumpy pomegranate that fitted just perfectly in her hand.Â
As she examined the pomegranate, she heard a snap, the pomegranate dropping into her hand, startling Pamela.Â
She sighed.Â
A failure.Â
All she did was create yet another fast, growing plant that-
Her attention was taken by the wobbling pomegranate that fell in her hand just moments ago.Â
She watched it writhe for a few seconds, wobbling from side to side until she realized that the pomegranate was no longer firm, its walls deflating, caving into itself.
And thatâs when she saw it.
Tiny human hands clawing at the sunken pomegranate walls, as if trying to tear through the skin and make its way out.
Pamela kept staring at it, wondering what creature she had created from this new plant when she heard it.
The clawing was getting more aggressive with each passing moment when she heard what she thought was chittering but upon taking a moment to listen to it, bringing the pomegranate to her ear, she recognized the chittering as wails.Â
Baby wails.
Pamela immediately tried to break the pomegranate open, but couldnât. The skin was too thick and tough for her to break it open with just her nails and she didnât want to risk injuring the baby inside.Â
She ran across her lab, scanning her table in search of-
Scalpel!Â
Pamela gently placed the wrinkly pomegranate on the table and gently lifted a part of the skin and carefully cut through it, letting out a breath when she successfully made an incision.Â
She carefully made the incision bigger, gliding the blade down the fruit, revealing the crying baby inside, its screams now a bit louder than before yet still too weak to fully hear them.
It looked no older than 22 weeks old, explaining why their screams were so weakâŠ
22 weeksâŠ
âShe wonât survive.â Pamela whispered, quickly scooping the crying child and held her close to her bosom, scurrying around her lab, wondering what she should do.
Yes, she was a scientist, yes she had the degrees to prove it. Yes she knew botany and was a microbiologist but that didnât mean she knew what was needed to make sure this child she created will survive under her care.Â
Pamela tried to think as fast as she could, glancing at the child to make sure it was still breathing- it grew.
It grew.
The baby was no longer the size of the pomegranate and now looked the size of a small pumpkin, quietly sleeping in her embrace.
Pamela stared at the baby, lifting one of her hands to readjust her hold but found herself reaching for the babyâs face.
She caressed the babyâs face with her thumb, rousing the baby awake.
The baby looked at her with large blue doe eyes, giving her a smile before going back to sleep.Â
Pamela felt her heart swelling, holding the baby tighter against herself as she wrapped the baby in one the large leaves from one of her plants, allowing the plant to help bring the baby to her room.Â
Quietly as to not make the baby, Pamela went through her clothing and picked a slightly worn shirt that was soft to the touch.Â
She then searched for an old sewing kit at the top of her wardrobe, hoping it actually held some thread and needles and thankfully it did.
She haphazardly made her shirt into a baby onesie, taking the baby from the warmth of the leaf and thanking it for keeping her baby safe.
Her baby.
Pamela looked down at the child, the baby still fast asleep, her rosy cheeks even more prominent compared to when they freshly bloomed from the pomegranate.Â
âRose.â Pamela found herself saying, laying in bed with the baby next to her. âYour name will be Rose.â She kissed the babyâs forehead. âMy little rose bud.â
At that moment, Pamela felt what she believed to be loveâŠof a need to protect her new childâŠ
Was it just maternal instincts upon seeing Rose? Who knows.Â
I had a sudden itch to write for bigfatbreakâs Buginette AU after seeing their post on how Marinette could -at one point- can no longer hide her non-human partsâŠand I thoughtâŠhow would that go down?
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AO3
Itâs been weeks since Chat last saw Ladybug, having to do patrol of his own.Â
He didnât mind the solitude, often finding a stray cat to play with and some even kept him company. Sometimes he would pass by a civilian and wave at them before moving on.
An akuma would appear and for the most part, were doable on his own.Â
He would train on a lone rooftop for a while before taking a break and stare at Parisâ glittery skyline.
Solitude wasnât hard to walk with when you know how to maneuver it. And he knew how to deal with it -if home taught him anything. But it was the fact that he was stuck in this solitude with himself. Or rather, with no one to speak with regarding his new appearance.
When Ladybug stopped showing up to their patrols one day, Chat decided to give her space. Maybe something happened irl that didnât allow her to be Ladybug. Maybe she was sick. It had happened before when her appearance started shifting shortly after a new spell Tikki taught her months ago.
âIâll be fine, Chaton. Itâs just until I can get more leads on Hawkmoth, okay?â
First it started with her mask change.Â
Chat wrote the additional mask piece as a way for Ladybug to further cover her identity after Alya started a trend on her blog that consisted of cutting out a newspaper photo of Ladybug and going around Paris with just the upper half and searching for Ladybugâs âmatching lower face.â
He found her lower mask adorable, telling her she looked more like a ladybug with her tiny mandibles framing her face when she would enjoy a snack during their break to get rid of her dizziness.
Then her costume, Ladybug saying she changed it as the weather was getting colder and wanted to stay warm while out on patrol.Â
Ladybug would often have to take breaks while fighting an akuma as jolts of pain would course through her limbs, aches popping left and right as she tried to power through it.
She ended up taking a few days off before appearing again, this time, with antennae peeking from beneath between her hair. (He remembered hugging her close to him upon seeing her terrified face. He tried to comfort her by asking where her pigtails went only for her to whisper âantennae.â He remembered nuzzling himself into her hair in hopes of comforting her, quickly finding out they were as soft as a feather.)
Ladybug found herself having to cut patrol short due to the frequent migraines she would get. âToo much is going on, Chaton. Everything seems brighter, smells stronger- thereâs a butterfly nearby!â
But this is the longest she had been away.Â
Not a single peep from herâŠand to make matters worse, she wasnât the only one missing.
So was Marinette.Â
Ladybug was missing, Marinette was missingâŠtwo of the most important people in his life were missing and- he had enough.Â
He couldnât bear the silence around him any longer. He was able to bear it at home because he had his friends at school- because Marinette was there. Â
And during patrol, Ladybug was there to listen to his ranting and without the two of themâŠ
The silence was deafening.
So on his hands and knees, with tears pooling by his hands and his heart aching to bits and pieces with his head bowed as low as he could go, he begged Plagg to teach him the spell Tikki had taught Ladybug.Â
To teach him the spell that could heightened his senses to find them both.
To find the warmth he could no longer stand to live withâŠ
He thought he was able to hand the change and at first he did.Â
He was able to deal with the heightened hearing and heightened smell.Â
He was able to hide away the whiskers and small patches of fur across his legs and arms.Â
But then he couldnât hide them anymore.Â
They wouldnât leave even after he detransformed.Â
The sweaters and jackets started to bring more attention to himself in class. Hell it couldnât hold back the uncontrollable rate his hair grew despite going to his stylist every other day.
He couldnât find any excuse to explain the slightly bristled texture his hair now had despite his best to try and tame it.
He started to snap from the teeniest noise, causing his friends to become concerned.Â
The tapping of fingers and screeching of chalk overloaded his senses, the scents of perfumes and lotions and aromatics made him grow nauseous and light headed.Â
He would wake up in the middle of the night from body aches and migraines, sweating bullets as he noticed a new patch of fur growing on him.
He couldnât bear it anymore.
He needed to get away from it.Â
From all of it.Â
Chat looked at the digital billboard staring right in front of him, his face staring right at him.
And right next to his face was his fatherâs phone number, a few details about him alongside the last time he was seen: three days ago.
âŠbut Iâve been gone for longer than that.
Chat buried his face into his fur-like hair, rubbing his arms as the night breeze flew by him.Â
His whiskers brushed against his fur as he held in a sob.Â
Because, no. He wasnât crying because he missed home. If anything, leaving that damned place was a godsend.
He no longer had to hear his fatherâs yells on the phone as he had to correct yet another "incompetent" employee or business partner. He didnât have to hear another lecture of âwhere he couldâve done betterâ or needing to âsmile more genuinely.â
Like if he could ever do that.
While he had to scavenge food from a few undesirable places and sleep over some uncomfortable air vents, if he shoved that to the side, life was good!Â
Or at least, it was the first four weeks.Â
With no curfew in sight, Chat spent most of his time patrolling Paris, fighting akumas and of course, looking for Marinette and Ladybug.
Yet everywhere he thought he would get a lead on either of his friends would end up nowhere or back to where he started.Â
Marinette wasnât with her grandparents nor staying at a friendâs place. She wasnât staying at a place provided by one for her clients nor at a place she booked herself to help her concentrate on her commissions- something that she started to do this past year.
He tried to talk to every person he could think of that had a close relationship to her: her parents, Jagged, Nino, Alya- but no one could think of any place Marinette would stay at. Hell, none of them could even think of a reason as to why Marinette would leave home without a word.
âThatâs just not Marinette.â
And he agreed.
And then there was his search with Ladybug.
He couldnât find her in any of her favorite spots, no signs of life or having been used as a temporary shelter in any of their favorite high places in Paris.Â
He searched in pigeon coops, old storage sheds, abandoned food stores, alleyways and yetâŠit seemed like she disappeared into thin air without a trace of her existence.
He tried to use his heightened sense of smell and yet every time he thought he smelled her, he was only led to yet another dead endâŠit made him wonder: did he already forget her scent?
A scent he would describe as earthy, homelyâŠa scent he missed dearly with each passing day.
A scent that- was nearby!
Chat rose to his feet, sticking his nose into the air, sniffing to make sure he wasnât imagining it.
Making sure- there! There it is!
All of the stress he felt in that moment dispersed within that second, filling Chat with hope and joy.
He followed the scent, finding himself jumping down a fire escape and peering down into the alleyway once he was on the last set of stairs.
He stuck his nose into the air again, the smell of earth and vanilla now stronger compared to before.Â
Scanning the area, his ears picked up on the sound of someone rummaging through a dumpster.Â
Quietly descending from his spot, he creeped up to the dumpster, his eyes landing on the hooded person inside of the dumpster, noting an all familiar pair of antennae peer from the edges of the hood.
âMy Lady?â he asked, watching as the person froze. âIs that you?âÂ
He felt as he was pushed back, stumbling a bit as he watched Ladybug run away from him.
âLadybug! Please!â Chat cried out, trying his best to follow her despite the distance between getting longer.
But his cries didnât stop her, Ladybug not once turning back to look at him.
Why?
Why wasnât she stopping?
Why was she running away?
Why didnât she want him to talk to her? To see her?Â
They ran through alleyways, Chat jumping over piles of trash bags and fallen pallets as he tried to keep up with Ladybug. âMy Lady, please! Just talk to me!â he pleaded.
But she just kept running.
It wasnât until she crawled her way into an abandoned apartment through the fire escape that Chat found himself caught up to her.Â
She tried to escape through another window only to find it jammed.
Chat felt his heart grow heavy with each desperate jiggle that tried to pry the window open.
âLadybugâŠplease, just look at me.â Chat pleaded, hearing Ladybug stop her attempts at opening the window. âPlease Bug, justâŠhear me outâŠâ Her back turned towards him, but seeing as she didnât attempt to run off made him think she was at least willing to listen to him.
Chat let out a shuddering breath. âI just- I want to know that youâre okay, BugâŠâ Ladybug still didnât turn around. âOkayâŠyou donât have to look at me, but please. Just let me know youâre okay and Iâll le-â
âWhy?â She asked, her voice barely above a whisper. âWhy have you been looking for me?â
âWhy wouldnât Bug?â Chat let out a small laugh, hoping to lighten the mood a bit. âYouâre my friend. Of course Iâm going to notice when somethingâs off and look for you.â
âNo one else has noticed Iâve been missing.â She said, âno one in Paris has been asking about my whereabouts nor asked why I havenât been showing up to help take down the latest akuma.â
âBecause they know youâve trained a very good partner that is able to handle an akuma or two on his own.â He tried to explain.
âBut youâve been fighting by yourself these past six akumas Chat,â she pointed out,â why has no one tried to-â
âLadybug.â Chat cut her off. âWhether youâre present in a fight, needing some time off for yourself, the people of Paris will understand your decision. You are their hero after all, doing your best to-â
âWill they still accept me as their hero when I return and look like this?â She asked, pulling down her hood and finally turning to face him.
It was then that he realized the real gravity of their situation.
Of the reason behind Ladybugâs disappearance.Â
He felt his eyes well with tearsâŠ
The last he saw her, she only had small changes to her costume: the mask like claws at the side of her face, the cloak, the pair of antennae popping from her hairâŠbut nowâŠ
It seems like she went through a whole metamorphosis.
Her skin looked like it has been dyed gray, her eyes looked bloodshot red, Chat not knowing if its due to the effects of the spell their kwamis had taught them or from the stress her body went through from the side effects of the spellâŠ
Her hands no longer resembled a humanâs hand: they were a deep red, elongated and thin. Some might even dare to call them bony, with little claws at the end of her finger tips.Â
Her legs bore the same fate, even gaining an extra length in the form of an extra segment, bits of fuzz protruding from her jointsâŠÂ
In short, she no longer looked like the girl he saw weeks agoâŠshe no longer looked humanâŠbut that wasnât what upsetted himâŠ
âWho cares if they accept you as their hero or not,â Chat told her, trying his best to keep his voice steady. âLadybugâŠwhy did youâŠwhy did you bear it by yourself?â Chat let out a sob. âWhy did you think you had to deal with the pain on your own?â
âIâve dealt with the pain before.â She defended herself. âI knew I was going to deal with this pain just as well as-â
âYou know as well as I do that youâre lying.â Chat managed to bring sternness to his voice despite the scratchiness that linger at the base of his throat. âThis is nothing like the pain you get from the changes in senses or of learning how to adapt to them.
The growing of new facial features, of growing new limbsâŠI know that pain is incomparable to-â
âHow would you knowâŠâ her voice trailed as she looked at him,â...how that feelsâŠâ Tears welled in her eyes. âChatâŠwhat have you done?â
Ladybug looked at the partner she had left to fend on his own, for a moment not recognizing her partner.
His eyes appeared more narrow than what she remembered, his pupils more slitted and his scleras now a toxic green. His nose looked flatter and whiskers popped from the outer edges of his upper lip.
His hair was way longer than what she recalled, unkempt and ruly as well.
âWhat a pair of devotees we are, arenât we?â Chat let out a chuckle. âYou did it for the causeâŠi did it for you.â He confessed. âI missed you BugabooâŠI didnât know what else to do.â Chat let out a shuddering breath. âBut if it meant finding youâŠâ
Ladybug stared at him, looking down at herself.Â
What a fool she was to think she didnât have anyone on her side⊠âLadybug,â Chat stretched out his hand. âWill you join me in taking down Hawkmoth?â
Ladybug slowly reached for his hand but the moment her fingers grazed his, he pulled her into a hug, feeling her cool limbs against him. âIâll make sure to beat anyone up who dares to make fun of your appearance or even breathes an opinion about you.â
Ladybug found herself let out a chuckle, gaining a tighter hug from Chat. âYouâll have me in your corner. Just like you always have since the beginningâŠâ
Chat felt Ladybug hug him back, picking up soft sniffling as she buried her face against his shoulder.
A warbled voice began to fill his head, his mind trying his best to try and remember whose voice it belonged to, but for the life of him, he couldnât remember their name.
âJay!â
âJaybird!â
âJason!â
âWoah there Jaybird! Whatcha you working on?
âBook report, hmm? Want me to read it over?â
âJay, you canât sleep there. Alfred and Bruce are going to yell at you if they catch you here. Itâs a school night!â
Suddenly a face came to his mind, reminding him of the family he once had. The brother he once had.Â
This entire time he was so busy thinking about how he was no longer going to be able to see Bruce he forgot about RichardâŠ
His brotherâŠ
His idolâŠ
How could you?
How dare you?
Sabine and Tom shared a look when Raphael didnât say a word, staring at the shirt for what seemed hours. Not once did he dare to look to them for some type of explanation, better yet, a confirmation.
Their anxiety grew when Raphael lifted his head, tears pooled in his eyes but that wasnât what caused their hearts to twist.Â
It was the sadness in his eyes that Sabine swore was an emotion her little baby should not know of at his age.Â
A look she had only seen at family funerals: a look of grief and despair after having lost a precious friend or loved oneâŠof being separated from someone that was essential to their existenceâŠ
He was too young to hold such an emotion in his eyes.
She was snapped from the thoughts when Raphael began to cry, wailing as he brought the shirt to his chest.
âRaphael!â âMon loulou!â Tom and Sabine quickly wrapped their baby into a hug, not expecting their boy to react this way.Â
They expected him to ask questions, questions about any new changes in their routinesâŠof angry accusations of not âasking for his permissionâ like theyâve heard of from other parents letting their little ones know about the addition of a new family member.
They didnât expect him to break down like this.
They let him cry as they held onto him, rubbing his back as his wails came to soft sobs and hiccups.
Before they could even ask if he was okay, Raphael rubbed his eyes and looked at the shirt lifting it high above his head.
âI- I promise to be the- the best -hic- big brother I can be!â Raphael promised.
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No, I didnât forget youâŠhow can I ever forget you?
You showed me the ropes,Â
You helped me with my homework.
You protected me!
You were the best brother a brat like me couldâve ever hoped for!
-
âIâll make sure to protect them and never make them cry!â Raphael vowed, putting on the shirt his parents gave him.
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Iâll protect them, love them, just like you many moons agoâŠlook over me and my sibling, RichardâŠ
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A few weeks after the Dupain-Chengâs discovered the news of an addition to their family, they soon found out that Anarka was also expecting her own bundle of joy.Â
And coincidentally, both children were going to be girls, prompting both mothers to go out clothes shopping.Â
However, upon hearing this, Luka whined about wanting to stay home. Raphael proposed the idea of the boys staying at home, promising to let his father know if they needed help or something was wrong.Â
The three parents agreed, the boys grinning as they made their way to Raphaelâs room to go and play until their mothers came home.
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After playing a few rounds of video games, the two boys found themselves bored when Luka suggested thinking about names for their sisters.
Excited, Raphael pulled out his latest annexation of books from his growing collection and placed them on the new coffee table added to his room along with a notebook.Â
Together, they started to brainstorm names for their new baby sisters. Or at least, Rapahel was the one writing while Luka simply suggested. Â
âHmm, what about Consuelo?â Luka asked, throwing a stress ball into the air and catching it. âOr Constance?â Raphael wrinkled his nose.
âThat sounds like an old ladyâs name.â Raphael complained.
âHey, my neighborâs name is Constance and sheâs not an old lady.â Luka defended as he stopped throwing the ball. âSheâs a very nice, pretty lady.â
âBut I donât want my sister to be pretty and have an old ladyâs name.â Raphael huffed. âI want her to have a pretty name even when sheâs old and wrinkly.â
âLike?â Raphael hummed.
âWhat about Dorothy, Agatha, Camelia or Adeline?â He listed.
âDo you even know how to spell Adeline?â Luka asked with a smug on his face, only to have a piece of paper shoved into it with the very names spelled on it.
âI do.â Raphael said, matter-of-factly. âIâve been practicing since I started looking for names for my sisterâŠhave you thought of any names you want to call your sister?â
Raphael didnât like the face Luka made, wondering why he averted him in response. âDid you and Auntie think about any names for your sister?â
âWe- IâŠdid.â
âWhat is it?â Luka pursed his lips.
âPromise not to laugh.â
âWhy would I laugh?â
âJust promise me Ralph.â Luka groaned, sticking out his pinky.
âFine, I will.â Raphael pinky promised. âSo tell me.â
âBijou.â Luka confessed. âI want to name my sister Bijou.â Luka looked at Raphael, a mix of emotions passing on his face. He frowned. âThis is why I made you promise not to laugh.â
He let out a groan. âWhen I told my mom about the name, she thought it was silly and said it didnât fit our theme of names.â
âYour family follows a theme?â Raphael asked, wondering what theme exactly Anarka was trying to create. Then again, it was probably some odd thing only she might think makes senseâŠ
âMy mom wants all of our names to end in -ka so that it matches her name. Ankara, LukaâŠyou get it?â Raphael nodded. âSo when I suggested Bijou, it was placed in the âto-think-aboutâ pile.âÂ
âSo letâs see how we can make Bijou work.â
âAnd how exactly will we make it work?â
âWellâŠwhy exactly did you choose Bijou?â Lukaâs cheeks became dusty pink.Â
âBecause sheâs going to be my little sister, the familyâs precious babyâŠour precious treasure.â Raphael hummed..
âTreasure⊠gems⊠Well, Bijou means âjewelâ in English.â
âOkay?â Luka asked. âBut gems isnât a name.â
âI know, but work with me.â
âWork with you?â Raphael sighed.
âSo Bijou translated to English is âjewelsâ and if you ask me, jewels sounds like the nickname Jules. Sometimes people with the name Julius or Julissa have that nickname.â Raphael wrote the name in the notebook. âWe can change the name Julissa and have it end in -ka and form the name Julika.â
âThat doesnât look like a name.â Luka complained.
âBut what if we change the spelling toâŠthis!â Raphael showed Luka his paper. âJuleka; ends in -ka to fit your momâs name theme and you can call her Jules that sounds like jewels, reminding you that sheâs your precious little sister.â
 Luka grinned with joy.Â
âRaphael, youâre a genius!â Raphael grinned.
âJust helping a friend out, thatâs all.â
âI hope our sisters become best friends like us.â Luka confessed. âThat way we can all play together and hang out with each other.â
âI hope they are Luka.â Raphael looked at his own list of names he wanted to share with his parents. âI hope they do become best friends just like us.â
-
Tom looked at the book of baby names in his hands, quickly becoming overwhelmed by the long lists of names and their short descriptions about their origins.
Shortly after finding out having a little sister, Raphael insisted on getting books to help decide on a name for the baby. At first Tom was in disbelief that such books existed but when they went to their local bookstore, baby name books were indeed a thing.Â
Since then, the family had been making a list of possible names for the baby girl.Â
There was Beatrice, Daphne, Zoe, Dorothee, Esther, EstelleâŠ.Â
There were so many beautiful names to call their second treasureâŠhow can he choose the perfect name for his little girl?
âIs everything alright Tom?â Sabine asked him, snapping him from his thoughts. He lifted his head from the book, Sabine offering him a cup of tea.
âRosebud?â Tom asked as he took the cup. Sabine nodded. âJust..thinking aboutâŠa name.â
âFor the baby?â
âI want it to be perfect, Sabine.â Tom confessed, âJust like Rapahelâs.â Sabine giggled, resting her head on his arm.
âWhatever name we choose, it will be perfect Tom. Because just like Raphael, she will be our perfect little girl as well.â Sabine sighed.Â
âWhatâs on your mind, love?â
ââŠI never imagined weâd be gifted with another babyâŠâ Sabine said, âI honestly thought Raphael would be our one and only oneâŠâ Tom looked over to look at his wife, noticing the tears in her eyes. âTom, Iâm scared.â
âOh Sabine,â Tom wrapped his arm around her, pulling her into a hug, kissing her forehead. âYouâre going to do great. Everything is going to go well and youâre not going to do this on your own. Just like with Raphael, Iâll be there every step of the way.â
âAnd I can help too!â Raphael chimed in, causing both adults to jump.Â
âRaphael, arenât you supposed to be in bed?â Sabine asked, Raphael simply smiling as he ran towards his parents, with a paper in hand.
âI have some ideas for my sisterâs name!â He showed them the list he wrote, consisting of five main names: Mei Ling, Danielle, Xiang, Heather and Anne-Marie.
âAnne-MarieâŠâ Sabine read out loud. âAnne-MarieâŠâ She said again, turning to Tom. âI think this is it.â
Raphael grinned.
âAre we choosing this one? I also really liked it!â He admitted, staring down at the name.
âBut I also like the name Xiang.â Tom confessed, âI would like her to pay homage to your heritage.â
âXiang Anne-Marie Dupain-ChengâŠAnne-Marie Xiang Dupain-ChengâŠâ Sabine played with the names.
âI guess we can make her middle name, just like what we did with Raphael.â
âI have a middle name?â Raphael asked. How did he not know this? Had he always heard it but never realized it was his middle name? Sabineâs giggle snapped him from his crisis.
âYour full name is Raphael Jingyi Dupain-Cheng.â She said, bopping his nose and pulled him into an embrace. Raphael melted into it, careful to not squish his sister. âYouâll always be my baby even when your sister is born, my little treasure.â She kissed his temple. âNow and forever.â
-
Months passed, Raphael was at home one minute snuggled warmly against his mother and the next, he was helping his father bring out the bag he had helped prepare for when his mother was ready to have his little sister and todayâŠ
Today was the day.
â-yes, heâs going to be- yes. I left them on the table for-â Tom hummed as he glanced around the room. âYes, he knows-â
âAuntie, Mamaâs having the baby!â Raphael shouted. âI get to stay home and watch the house until Mama comes back!â
â-could see, heâs very excited.â Tom said, listening as Anarka said a few more things on the phone. âAgain, thank you for looking over Raphael. Iâll let you know how everything goes in a few hours. Bye-bye.â Tom hung up the phone and looked at Raphael.
âIs Auntie coming over to watch me?â
âSheâs going to come over to pick you up and take you over to her house.â Raphael gasped.
âI thought I was going to stay at home and watch over it? Why am I going to Auntieâs home?â
âThe stairs arenât her best friend right now bud.â Tom explained, earning an âohâ from Raphael. âShe said sheâs going to come by in 30 minutes, when the clock-â
â-lines up to the 5.â Raphael said, pointing to their clock in the living room. âI have to keep the doors locked until she comes by, right?â
âThatâs right.â Tom ruffled his hair. âSheâs going to call when sheâs downstairs, okay?â Tom picked up Sabineâs hospital bag. âIâm going to take your mom to the hospital now.â
âOkay.â Raphael responded, noticing his fatherâs anxiety in his eyes. âEverything is going to be okay Papa.â Raphael hugged his father tightly. âMom will have an easy delivery and my sister will be born wellâŠI just know it.â
Tom hugged Raphael tightly before kissing his forehead.
âThat I pray wholeheartedly Ralph. That I pray.â
-
Raphael glanced at the clock in Lukaâs room, sighing as he watched the seconds tick by.
âRaphael, thatâs the bazillion time youâve looked up at that clock and sighed like that.â Luka himself looked at the clock. âItâs been four hours. Didnât you say your mom might be in the hospital for six, seven hours?â
âI know I did, but still.â Raphael looked at the book in his hands. It was the latest addition to his library: Catcher in the Rye. âGod better make sure everything goes well.â
âEverything is going to be fine, Raphael.â Luka reassured him, throwing him a book. âYouâll see.â
Raphael tried to push his worry to the back of his mind, but for the life of him, couldnât.
With each hour that passed, his anxiety continued to gnaw his mind, even as he laid in bed.Â
Luka was already sound asleep, Raphael staring at the ceiling fan at is slowly spun thanks to the night breeze.Â
Was Mom alright? Was she still in labor? Or was his sister already born? Were there any complications?Â
Was Dad okay?
A slow creak alerted him, causing him to quickly sit up, feeling his shoulders relax when he realized it was Anarka.
âI see youâre still awake lad.â Raphael nodded sheepishly. âWant to join me in the living room?â Raphael quickly got up, following his aunt into the living room. He allowed himself to snuggle against her side as they sat on the couch, accepting a cup of tea. He held it tight, careful to not rest it against her large belly. âWhatâs on your mind? You wouldnât be up if something wasnât eating at your tiny little head.â
âCan you really see that?â Ankara nodded. âDad hasnât called yet; Iâm worried about Mama and the baby.â
Raphael let out a huff when Anarka ruffled his hair. âHas he called-â
The kitchen phone rang, Raphael pulling himself away as Anarka slowly got up.â
âIâm going, Iâm going.â She sighed as she waddled her way to the phone. âGive the pregnant lady some patience, will ya?â The ring came to a halt as Anarka brought it to her ear. âHello?â
Raphael listened as someone was frantically speaking, Ankara staying quiet as they kept talking. He watched as a small smile formed on her face, a huge grin quickly replacing it. âRaphael, come over here.â
He didnât need to be told twice, setting his cup down and scrambling to Anarkaâs side. He nervously took the phone Anarka handed him over, slowly bringing it to his ear.Â
âHello?â
âRaphael! Sorry for not calling earlier lad.â Tears prickled his eyes, Raphael wondering how bad his nervousness was if he was starting to tear up upon hearing his fatherâs voice. He shook his head, as if his father could see him. âHow are you doing? Are you doing well?â
âIâm okay.â He tried to answer calmly, yet the crack in his voice betrayed him. âAuntie is taking good care of me and I'm having fun playing with Luka.â
âThatâs great to hear. What did you-â
âIs Mom okay?â Raphael asked, gripping the phone. âIs the baby-â He heard a light chuckle on the other side.
âYou know, I was panicking as I was making this call because I thought you would be mad at me for not calling you sooner. But for you to ask about Mom and the babyâŠyou have a big heart, you know that?â
Raphael brimmed with embarrassment. âI wanted to tell you after you told me about your day, but since youâre already asking; Mom is doing wellâŠand so is the baby.
Youâre officially a big brother, Raphael.â
-
July 9, 20XX at 23:08, Marinette Xiang Dupain-Cheng was born.
-
Four days passed since the news about his sister being born, Raphael counting down the minutes until his father came to the Couffaine home to pick him up.
As if on cue, a knock was heard at the door, Raphael dragging his luggage with him as Anarka opened the door to reveal his father.
âPapa!â Raphael yelled, tackling Tom, feeling as he lifted into the air and brought into a tight hug.
âRaphael! Iâve missed you.â Raphael let out giggles and pleads as Tom showered him in kisses. âPapa, your beard!â
âAre you ready to meet your sister?â Tom asked as the kisses came to a stop, Raphael furiously nodding. âAnarka, thanks for watching over my boy.â
âAny time.â She replied, âheâs my favorite nephew after all.â She grinned. âAnd now I have a niece that I canât wait to meet as well.â
âPapa, why isnât auntie coming with us?â Raphael turned to Anarka, âdonât you want to see the baby too?âÂ
âIâll be visiting soon, Ralphie.â Ankara reassured him, âI just want your mom to rest a bit more and then Iâll visit you, okay?â
âOkay.â
âNow go on and meet that sister youâve been waiting to meet. And then call me to tell me how cute she looks!â Ankara said with a laugh, waving the Dupain-Chengâs goodbye.
-
Upon getting to their apartment door, Raphael became quiet, just his excitement still bounced inside of him.
Tom placed their things on the floor, Raphael quickly took them to his room and placed his book snack into his bookshelves and quickly went to shower.
He didnât want to accidentally pass any germs to his sister.Â
Once done, he slowly tipped toed into his parentsâ bedroom, noticing his mother fast asleep.Â
While he wanted to check on her, he knew better than to wake her up so he opted to greet his new sister.Â
Step by step, Raphael made his way to the pink bassinet across the room.
Raphael stared at the bassinet in front of him, holding onto the edges of it to pull himself a bit higher to get a closer view of his sister.Â
Her face was rosy red, scrunched up together as if the dim lights of the room were still too bright for her and not optimal for her sleep. She looked to be no bigger than the size of an american footballâŠ
Did he also look like her when he was born?
He held in a yelp when his father ruffled his hair, Raphael wondering how he didnât hear his father walk into the room..
âWhat do you think of your sister?Â
âSheâs so tiny,â he said, âand wrinkly.â Tom let out a hearty chuckle, careful to not wake up the sleeping baby.
âThat she is, Raphael.â His father softly spoke. âWould you like to know your sisterâs name?â He nodded. âHer nameâs Marinette.â
âMarinette.â Raphael repeated. âI didnât write that downâŠwhat does the name mean?â
âThe name means âof the sea..ââ Tom explained, âI know we were set on Anne-Marie but the minute we saw her small tufts of hair, it reminded us of the color of the sea on a summer night and thought Marinette would suit her best.â
Raphael hummed, knowing that whatever his parents decided on was the final sayâŠnot that he disliked the name. If anything, Marinette suited his sister more than Anne-Marie.
âCan I hold her?â He asked.
âMaybe when she gets up.â Tom told him, âsheâs been up all night.â Raphael pouted as he stared at his sister. Then again, it would be rude to wake her-
âPapa!â Raphael whispered, âsheâs moving!â Tom chuckled.
âSheâll do that a lot. Sometimes sheâll wake up and start crying and sometimes sheâll just fuss for a bit before going back to sleep.â Tom told him, âbut if you hold her hand, sheâll go back to sleep.â
Raphael looked up to his father and then back to his sister.Â
âReally?â
âReally.â
Raphael watched his sister fail around a bit before deciding to gently grab hold of her hand. Or rather, the minute her hand found his hand, she quickly grabbed a hold of one of his fingers and wrapped her tiny hand around it.Â
Despite being so small, she already had a tight grasp.Â
She smiled back at him before slowly going back to sleep, still holding his finger tightly.
âSee that? She already loves you Raphael.â Raphael held back tears as he heard his fatherâs words, feeling him rub his back. âYouâre going to be a wonderful brother Raphael, just you see.â
Summary: After years of relentless battles, Marinette finds herself adrift and weary in the aftermath of Hawkmothâs defeat. By a twist of fate, she ends up in a new city, leaving behind the tangible reminders of her trauma in pursuit of a genuine fresh start. University life brings new friendships and, unexpectedly, sweeps her into a whirlwind romance with someone who understands all too well the scars left by a childhood of being forged into a weapon. Through newfound honesty and boundaries rarely granted to them before, the former child heroes slowly begin to heal; together.
Chapter 7/?
Marinette hummed a soothing melody to herself as she waited for the elevator to arrive at her floor. Nerves buzzing under her skin from how her date had ended. Not buzzing in a bad way, no, the compatibility date had gone far better than she had hoped, seeing as her expectations were to walk out of the blind date with a new friend, not to walk out with an actual date, but she was left buzzing with energy nonetheless. She was still slightly flushed from testing their physical compatibility, her mind replaying the moment as she stepped out of the elevator and fumbled with her keys, flicking through the clicking metal for the one that would unlock her apartment door.
She hadnât expected to like Damian as much as she does, but, well, to say that Marinette wouldnât mind a repeat of their parting moments would be a blatant lie. It was strange to be looking forward to something as simple as a date again. Especially with someone who didnât start as a friend, but she was excited to see where this spark with Damian would go, which unfortunately left Marinette a ball of anxious energy. Positive as the feelings are, she still felt the need to do something.
Stepping into the apartment, Marinett is met with the familiar scent of Pomelineâs lavender candles wafting through the air. Something familiar and grounding, welcoming her home as she takes a steadying breath.
Walking further into the apartment, Marinette is surprised to find none of her roommates up and about. She had sort of expected to be interrogated, if not by Olive, the resident psych major, then at least by Maps, who is not only the one who set up this blind date, but also the nosiest of her roommates. Plus, there was also the fact that Damian is a good friend of all three of her roomates, meaning that this was prime time to be interigated, or maybe Marinette was way too used to Alyaâs brand of chaos, Marintte couldnât help but think with a fond roll of her eyes as she locked the door behind herself, and slipped of her shoes.
Padding past the living area, Marinette stopped by her bedroom to grab a change of clothing before heading to the bathroom to shower. Making a pile on the counter of her wet clothing and Damianâs similarly rain-soaked jacket. Sheâd have to handle the laundry before going to bed, but preferably, after her shower. Right now, she could really use the warmth of a hot shower to chase away the chill that has settled in her bones. Setting the water just the way she liked it, Marinette was quick to step under the shower spray once the steam had started to rise. Breathing out a calming breath, Marinette forced her anxiety-tense muscles to relax. Letting the ritualistic pattern of washing away that dayâs dirt, conditioning her hair, letting it sit, and rinsing it out. The familiar movements helped to calm some of the buzzing under her skin, but even as she stepped out of the shower and began drying off, the feeling of needing to do something still buzzed under her skin in a restless sort of way.
Marinette scrunched out the excess water in her hair before wrapping it up in a towel and patting herself dry with a fluffy towel. She quickly dressed herself in fluffy pajama pants and a warm top, hoping to preserve as much of the warmth from her shower as she could. Taking down her wrapped hair, Marinette ruffled her towel through the strands gently a handful of times before letting her hair rest on the towel around her neck.
With a tired sigh, she gathered her damp clothes, Damianâs jacket, and the wet towels into her arms and made her way to the laundry nook. She set about loading them, grateful for the clear, step-by-step structure that doing laundry offered. Sorting out the items that needed extra protection, like Damianâs jacket, her sweater dress, and her undergarments, she slipped each into its own mesh laundry bag, carefully zipping them closed to prevent snags or stretching. The towels, sturdy as they are, were left free to tumble in the drum. Only once everything was properly arranged did she add detergent and softener with practiced precision and set the cycle in motion, following each rule like a lifeline that had been offered in the middle of a storm.
Having properly taken care of the wet clothing, Marinette padded quietly toward the kitchen, only to pause in the doorway at the sight that met her eyes.
Pomeline stood by the stove, her sharp profile illuminated by the soft under-cabinet lights as she poured steaming water into a pair of ceramic mugs. A teapot steamed gently next to a bowl of freshly made strawberry oatmeal, the pink-red fruit bright against the creamy oats. Marinette blinked, genuinely surprised. Of all her roommates, she hadnât expected Pomeline to be the one waiting for her tonight.
âPomeline?â Marinette asked, arching a brow as she stepped into the kitchen. âI thought for sure itâd be Maps or Olive lying in wait to interrogate me about my date.â
Pomeline didnât look up immediately, but a faint smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. âMaps and Olive drew the short end of the straw. So, youâre stuck with me.â She finally turned, offering Marinette a mug. âCoincidentally, I made enough tea for two.â
Marinette smiled, accepting the mug and sliding into a seat at the kitchen table, content to be interrogated as it followed what she had expected to happen upon arriving home. Plus, with Pomelineâs dry humor, this interrogation was sure to be interesting if nothing else.
Pomeline sat across from her, stirring her own tea. Her gaze was cool but not unkind, a spark of curiosity in her eyes. âSo. Did anyone get hurt?â
Marinette blinked, startled by the bluntness, but laughed softly. âNo, Pomeline. No one got hurt. No fights, no drama.â
âDid either of you end up hating the other?â Pomeline pressed, tone casual but intent.
Marinette shook her head, unable to hide her amusement as she answered, âActually, we got along really well.â She said, feeling the flush of her cheeks, and hoping that it wasnât too noticeable.Â
If Pomeline noticed her blush, she didnât mention it. In fact, Pomeline seemed satisfied with what she saw, nodding once. âGood. Thatâs all I wanted to know.â She pushed the bowl of strawberry oatmeal across the table toward Marinette. âEat. Youâve had a long day, and you will have an even longer morning once the other two can get a hold of you.â
Marinette huffed in amusement, bidding her roommate goodnight as Pomeline collected her own mug and slipped out of the kitchen, leaving Marinette with her tea, a warm bowl of oatmeal, and a faint smile lingering on her lips.
Left alone in the soft kitchen light, Marinette ate her oatmeal in slow, thoughtful bites, savoring the burst of strawberry against the creamy oats. She sipped at her tea, feeling the warmth settle into her bones, and once her bowl was empty, she rinsed it and her mug, washing the bowl with soap, leaving it in the drying rack while her mug was left on the counter for later use.
Padded back to the laundry nook, Marinette listened for the familiar click that signaled the washerâs end. She transferred the clean, damp clothes to the dryer, shaking out each piece and tucking delicate items into the mesh bags again. When she started the dryer, she set a mental timer and returned to the kitchen, filling the kettle once more and preparing a second cup of tea, the actions so ingrained she hardly thought about them.
With her cup warming her hands, Marinette set about gathering ingredients. Pulling out flour, butter, salt, and water to make the dough. Measuring and sifting the flour. Dicing the butter into cubes. Tossing them together into a crumbly mixture with a pinch of salt and a splash of icy water, that she mixed together until it combined into something that resembled a shaggy dough. Marinette then gently pressed it into a rectangle before wrapping it in cling film and placing it in the fridge to chill while she cleaned up.
By the time she was done cleaning, the dough was ready to be pulled out. Dusting the counters with flour, Marinette worked quickly, folding the dough over itself, rolling it out, folding it, rolling it, until the dough began to warm and needed to be wrapped back up and placed back into the fridge.
Putting the dough back, Marinette pulled out the apples and lemons for the filling before closing the fridge door and moving to the spice cabinet, pulling out the cinnamon and sugar. With everything gathered, Marinette began peeling and coring the apples, dicing them into small cubes in smooth, practiced chops. Tossing the apple bits, sugar, and cinnamon into a pot, Marinette halved and squeezed the lemon juice into the mix and left that to simmer. Washing her hands and the work space once more before dusting the area in flour again. The dough folding process was repeated until it was smooth and streaked with butter.
Once the apple compote was finished and cooled, Marinette pulled out the chilled dough and rolled it out for a final time, cutting perfect rounds of pastry dough that she then filled with the apple compote. Brushing the edges with egg wash, folding the circles shut and sealing them with a fork, crimping the edges, and arranging them on a tray.
Once the last of the pastries were filled, Marinette covered the trays with cling film and slid them into the fridge, planning to bake them fresh in the morning. The rhythm of the kitchen soothed her, each step familiar and easy, hands moving with the confidence of a long habit.
The dryer beeped just as Marinette finished cleaning up the kitchen, leaving her to unload and fold warm, clean clothing. Sorting her clothes from the towels and Damianâs jacket. She put everything away in its correct spot, leaving Damianâs jacket folded neatly on her desk as a reminder to give it back when she next saw him.
With everything in its place, Marinette poured the last of her tea and gave the kitchen one final glance, the scent of apples lingering in the air as she headed to bed, already looking forward to the morning.
Sleep came quickly, exhaustion and anticipation mingling in her dreams. It felt like no time had passed at all when Marinette was abruptly roused by the unmistakable sensation of someone, or something, perched almost on top of her. Groggy and confused, she blinked her eyes open to find Maps, knees tucked up and chin propped on Marinetteâs blanket-covered hip, peering at her with the intense focus of a cat demanding breakfast.
âMaps?â Marinette croaked, voice rough with sleep. âWhat are you doing?â
Maps, unrepentant, grinned down at her. "Morning! I need details. All the details. You promised, remember? What did you do, what did he say, how did it go? How long did it last?"
Marinette groaned, squinting at the clock. "Why are you waking me up for this? Couldn't you have asked last night instead of sitting on me like a needy cat?"
Maps pouted theatrically but didnât budge. "Mel banned us from interrogating you last night. But itâs morning now, so itâs fair game!"
At that moment, Olive appeared in the doorway, a steaming mug in her hands. She offered Marinette the cup with a sympathetic smile. "Hot chocolate. And sorry, I tried to contain Maps, but clearly my powers are limited."
Marinette accepted the mug, her lips quirking in amusement. "Youâre not really sorry, are you? Now you get to ask your questions too."
Olive only shrugged, hiding a smile behind her own mug, eyes bright with curiosity.
Rolling her eyes, Marinette slipped out from under Mapsâ weight, slipping on a robe and pocketing her phone before she padded to the kitchen, pulling her robe tighter around her. Setting the oven to heat, Marinette hopped onto the counter next to the stove, taking a sip of her hot chocolate drink.
"Alright, you gremlins," Marinette said, shooting Olive and Maps a wry look over the rim of her mug, "Start asking your questions before I cut you off, and I wonât answer anything more."
Maps, of course, was first to dive into asking questions, or reasking in her case, since she had woken Marinette up with these questions. "How did it go? What did you do? How long did it last?" She rattled off once more, barely pausing between questions, eyes wide with anticipation.
Marinette huffed a tired laugh, taking a sip of her drink to buy herself some time before answering. âIt went well once we switched to a Parisian dating structure.â
Maps furrowed her brows, clearly thrown off by the unexpected answer. âWhat does that even mean? Whatâs a Parisian dating structure? Is that like, an itinerary orâŠ?â
Marinette couldnât help but laugh, the sound lighter now that she was surrounded by her friends and the familiar comfort of morning routines. âIt means that all expectations of romance were cut from the date. The first date is more of a compatibility interview than anything else. It allows for both parties to ask the nosy, invasive questions that might cause problems later on, and if one of the parties thinks they wouldnât work as a couple, the date can end before anyone gets hurt.â Marinette explains. âIt removes the risk of akumatization later on in most cases.â
Maps blinked, then grinned. "So you interrogated each other the whole date? That actually sounds kind of fun.â
âDefinitely something Damian would enjoy." Olive agreed, sipping at her hot chocolate, eyes twinkling with mischief. "And what was the result of your interrogation?"
Marinette opened her mouth to answer when the oven beeped, giving her the perfect excused to close her mouth, offering her roommates a slight smile as she jumped off the counter and went over to the fridge, pulling out the trays of chilled pastries, the dough firm and cold beneath her fingers. As she uncovered the trays, Olive and Maps edged closer, clearly not deterred by the short interruption but also curious as to what Marinette had made. Marinette grabbed the small bowl of egg wash from the fridge, dipping her pastry brush and methodically painting each pastry until they gleamed with a golden sheen.
âYouâre not getting out of answering- but what are those?â Maps inquired curiously as Marinette put the trays in the oven.
âChausson aux pommes.â Marinette answered, setting the timer on her phone before turning her attention back to her roommates. âApple turnovers.â She translated with amusement.
Oliveâs eyes widened with delight. âYou made homemade apple turnovers? Marinette, youâre spoiling us.â
Maps immediately leaned against the counter, nose twitching as the scent of baking pastry began to fill the kitchen. âI knew there was a reason I liked living with you,â she said, only half-joking.
Marinette rolled her eyes, but affection warmed her smile. âIf you want anything freshly baked in the future, then I expect my answers to be respected. One question at a time, no shouting over each other. And your time is up when the timer is.â
Maps and Olive shared a look.
âDeal.â A third voice answered before either roommate could.
âGood morning, Pomeline.â Marinette greeted with a slight raise of her mug and an amused smile.
Maps crossed her arms, already bristling with frustration. âWait, wait, Pomeline doesnât get to set the terms! She already got to interrogate Marinette last night. She canât just waltz in and call the shots now!â
Pomeline fixed Maps with a flat look, unamused. âFirst of all, I did not âinterrogateâ Marinette. I merely ensured that her date went well enough that introducing her to our friend group later wouldnât be a disaster. Thereâs a difference.â
She set her mug down with a soft clink and arched an eyebrow at Maps. âSecond, you know very well that food rights, especially the distribution of fresh treats, are a collective decision. You canât just leave me out because youâre feeling impatient.â
Olive snorted into her mug, clearly entertained, while Marinette hid a smile behind her cup. Maps looked mutinous, but couldnât quite argue with Pomelineâs logic.
Just then, Marinetteâs phone buzzed loudly on the countertop, cutting through their bickering. Maps whipped around. âWait! Thatâs the timer already? I didnât even get to ask any questions!â
Marinette rolled her eyes and picked up her phone, thumb swiping over the screen. âItâs a text message, Maps. The timer hasnât even gone off yet.â
She glanced at the message, blinked, then read it again. Pink crept up her cheeks, warming her ears. Olive, ever observant, grinned. âWas that Damian? Did the date really go that well?â
Marinette ducked her head, pretending to fuss with her mug. âYes, itâs Damian. Heâs just checking in with a good morning text, nothing more.â She says while sending a text back.
Pomeline raised a brow, her voice dry. âThatâs considerate.â
Olive leaned in, her eyes sparkling with mischief. âYouâre blushing, Marinette. So, is this a one-sided thing, or should we expect another date in your future? We need to know if we should get invested or not.â
Marinette sighed, tapping her mug, knowing that it was futile not to answer, as her roommates could quite literally just text Damian themselves since he was their friend first. "Yes, we will see each other again. He asked last night, and I said yes."
Maps let out a whoop, pumping her fist in victory. "Knew it! Knew you two would hit it off!"
Olive, ever the calm counterbalance to Maps' exuberance, smiled warmly and nudged Marinetteâs shoulder. "Iâm glad. You look happy, Marinette. It's nice to see."
Marinetteâs blush only deepened, but she couldnât hide her smile. "I am. It was good, different. I had never done a compatibility date before, so it was a little intense sometimes, but in a good way."
Pomeline, arms folded and expression unreadable, gave a short nod of approval. "Damianâs intensity is part of his charm, if you can handle it. Youâre one of the few people I thought would be able to match him beat-for-beat.â The âand it looks like I was right,â was left unsaid but not unheard.
Maps, never one to let a moment sit, leaned across the counter, her eyes wide and eager. "So, what did you actually do? Did you two just sit there and swap life stories, or was there, you know, actual chemistry?"
Marinette laughed, the last of her embarrassment melting away in the face of Mapsâ relentless curiosity. "We talked a lot, actually. We talked about family, future, boundaries, and weird pet peeves, what we want out of life, and yes, I suppose there was chemistry. Enough that we lost track of time until it started to rain.â
Maps groaned dramatically. "Ugh, you two are so mature. When did we all get so grown up?" She pressed both palms to her cheeks, only half-joking, while Olive snickered behind her mug.
"So, what happened after the rain?" Olive prompted, eyes glinting as she leaned against the counter. "Did you two just run for cover or...?"
Marinette offered a small smile, warmth in her eyes as she remembered. "We ducked under one of those covered structures- with the benches?â She tries to explain, making a house shape with her arms.
âA gazebo.â Pomeline supplied.
âSure.â Marinette assumed Pomeline was correct and continued. âWe stayed there long enough to get our bearings, he gave me his jacket to borrow, and then we headed back into the rain so he could walk me back.â
Olive let out a low whistle. âDramatic and chivalrous.â
Marinette shook her head, but her grin was soft. âIt was sweet. He didnât say much on the walk, but he made sure I didnât step in any puddles. And when we got to my building, he asked if we could see each other again.â
Before anyone could tease her further, the timer on Marinetteâs phone finally went off, its cheerful chime breaking the moment. She hopped off the counter and headed straight for the oven, slipping on her mitts. With practiced care, Marinette pulled out the trays of golden, flaky apple turnovers. The smell of warm pastry and cinnamon-sweet apples filled the air, making everyone in the kitchen go noticeably quiet for a few seconds.
Maps let out a dramatic sigh, unable to contain herself. "Honestly, I did such a good job matching you two up. If it werenât for me, this whole adorable love story wouldnât even exist!"
Pomeline, still leaning against the counter, deadpanned, "Marinette and Damian are literally the only successful blind date youâve ever set up for anyone in our friend group."
Maps just grinned, undeterred. "Hey, I stand by my record. Quality over quantity!"
Olive laughed, reaching for a pastry but waiting for Marinetteâs nod. "Well, hereâs to the one pairing that worked out, and to Marinetteâs baking."
Marinette sighed, cheeks pink but eyes bright, as she placed the trays on the table. Surrounded by the laughter of her friends and the scent of fresh pastry.
Chapter 6: Resent and Forgiveness Can Go Hand-In-Hand
Marinette watched as Raâs simply stood there, eyeing the distance between the two.Â
He was wary of her glowing black hand and the miasma that dripped from them, watching as each drop corroded the dirt at her feet, sizzling as the two met.
âGive me my son, Raâs.â She growled, her eyes locked on him.Â
Raâs had seen his share of cornered beasts and while she reminded him of one, she was anything but cornered.Â
He didnât have time to think of a retort as Marinette decided to strike first.Â
Running straight to him, her elbow connected to the side of his face only for Raâs to dodge it.
She managed to spin behind him and swung herself over his shoulder, using her momentum and weight to bring him down. Just as she was about to dropkick herself into him, he beat her to it, kicking her off of him.Â
Marinette fell backwards onto the ground, pushing the pain of her side to the back of her mind.Â
I have to get up.Â
Bouncing back to her feet, she went back to attacking him. He dodged her every attack easily; he would step to the side and use her own momentum against her, often guiding her to meet the floor or wall with a thud or groan.Â
He would flip her over his shoulder and Marinette would land back on her feet only to get struck on the side or face, causing her to stumble backwards.Â
While she always tries to bounce back, she wasnât given time to think about her next move as Raâs kept her on her toes.Â
Their wrists and forearms would always meet as they defended each other from each otherâs attacks, Marinette wincing at the soreness that only increased with each hit.
Heâs trying to wear me down.
I need to end this soon..now!Â
Marinette busted out everything she could think of, but every swing, every kick was blocked or redirected.
But on the instance of having both of her hands held back, Marinette noticed Raâs stance.Â
He had leaned his leg backâŠhe was using his leg to hold her backâŠhe was getting tired.
Seeing an opening, Marinette loosened her attack and used Raâs knee as a spring board and swung herself over him, grabbing hold of his wrist and flipping her along with him.
While she landed on her feet, Raâs landed on his back, letting out a groan as the air from his lungs rushed out of him.
This is it!
Marinette reached for his throat, her Cataclysm just millimeters away from Raâs when she heard the cocking of a gun and soft whimpers.Â
She didnât need to turn around to know who was the one crying nor who that gun was being pointed to.
âYouâre going to kill him after fighting him?â Marinette scoffed. âYou shouldâve just given him back to me. Why kill him now?â
âHis death will hurt you more than it will hurt me.â
âYouâll be losing an heir.â
âAs long as your blood runs through his corpse, the boy will still hold value for the league, even if he is a corpse.â
âHow sick must you be to-â
She felt something pierce right through her body, her body jerking forward as it did.Â
She lowered her gaze to look at the spear that pierced her chest -ohâŠseems like it was her heart- as well as Raâs arm.Â
She felt the cold surrounding the spear, feeling as her heart grew heavier by the second with each drop of blood that gushed into it.Â
Her heart tried to beat despite the foreign body rammed through it, but with each beat, Marinette could only feel herself slip further away from her consciousness.
She felt heavy, tired.
Her chest felt heavy. She needed to close her eyes.
She needed to sleep this off.
.
.
.
Yeah, sheâll feel better if sheâŠjustâŠsleepsâŠ
-
Raâs watched as the light in Marinetteâs eyes faded with each breath she tried to take, watching as her Cataclysm sputtered and flickered until it dwindled to a small flame and then disappeared.Â
He watched as her body collapsed on top of him when the spear was pulled out, Raâs quickly shoving her body off of him.Â
Slowly, he sat up, feeling his adrenaline leave his body. As much as he wanted to let it all seep out before he got up, he needed to-
âSir, something is wrong with the child.â The guard holding Damian said, Raâs turning to see the boy failing about like a fish out of water.Â
Quickly getting up, Raâs rushed to grab the writhing boy.
âStay still!â Raâs tried to order, thinking the boy was trying to escape but noticed that the boy was clawing at his chest, as if trying to tell him something.
He lifted the boyâs shirt but saw nothing. He managed to glance at the boyâs face, expecting to see rage, anger but was met with fearâŠa fear he had seen before: of death.
What was going on? What was wrong with the boy?
Would he tell him what was ailing him if he let him speak?
The minute he took the cloth that was keeping the boy silent, Raâs didnât expect gargling to emote from the boyâŠit was as if he was drowningâŠ
DrowningâŠ
Clawing at his chestâŠ
Raâs turned back to look at the girl he just finished killing and turned back to the boy in his arms
Raâs watched as the boy slowly stopped flailing, his eyes becoming glossier by the second.
Then, he stopped moving. He stopped breathing
âBoy.â Raâs waited for a response. âBoy.â Raâs shook the boy. âDamian!â But still no response.
What was going on?
âIs heâŠdead sir?â The guard asked, Raâs ignoring the question, hoping it wasnât the case.
He didnât manipulate Marinette into doing this, held her hostage for four years and even fought her just to lose in the end. This was unacceptable!
Raâs stared at the child, as if staring at the body would give him some type of-
Raâs stared at the odd way Damianâs shirt clung to his body, wondering why the shirt sank deeper into Damianâs body than needed.Â
Raâs pressed his hand against Damianâs chest, wondering if he saw that right.Â
Why was there a cavity in his chest?
Quickly lifting the toddlerâs shirt, he managed to not be taken aback upon seeing the wound on the boyâs chest.Â
A clean wound from front to back.Â
A wound that cut cleaned through the childâs heart-
Oh.Â
.
.
.
So thatâs what it was.Â
âThat girl cursed this child.â Raâs concluded. âQuick, bring her with us to the Pit!â
Raâs rushed to the Pit, wondering if they were still in the time frame to reverse all of this.
The minute they made it to the room, Raâs ordered the guard to dump Marinette into the Lazarusâ Pit, watching her body sink a bit into the water before back to the top.
They waited seconds, minutesâŠ
Raâs waitedâŠand waitedâŠ
Yet her body continued to float lifelessly, having drifted to the deeper ends of the Pit.
Did they throw her in too late?Â
Was this it?
Or was he missing something?
Raâs looked back at the boy in his arms, wondering if this was it.
âHaunting me until the end, Guardian?â Raâs sighed. He threw the boyâs corpse into the Pit. âFor once, you won.â
He turned around to leave when a blinding light filled the room, Raâs whipping his head when he heard screams and gasps behind him, his eyes widening upon seeing Marinette making her way to the crying boy.
âSeize them and keep the boy away from her!â He yelled, watching as his guards pulled the boy out the waters first and then Marinette. âBring her to me.â
He watched as they brought her to him, forcing her to kneel before him. When her head was lifted to make her face him, he was met with the same angry eyes she had seconds before her death. âWelcome back, Guardian. Seems like it would take more than death to get away from the League.
Come now. We have much to discuss regarding your littleâŠtrick.â
-
âI told him about the spell I placed on you.â Marinette whispered. âHow I would take all the damage for you, no matter how little it was.Â
But if you were dealt a lethal blow, I will dieâŠand you will follow as well unless you were treated before you succumbed to your death.â
Marinette took a deep breath. âUpon hearing that, Raâs made the decision to let me go, saying he no longer needed me to teach you ancient magic since you were immortal now.â
âSo you left me there? Just like that?â Damian asked her. âYou gave up on me even though you said you loved me? That you would keep me safe?â
âNo! I love you with my entire being and still do!â Marinette exclaimed. âButI I was running out of plans DamainâŠmy strength wasnât enough.
And if my leaving meant you kept livingâŠthen that was enough.â
Damian stared at Marinette with unshed tears.Â
âYou abandoned me.â He wiped away a tear that dared to shed, feeling his body tremble. âPerhaps you thought you did the right thing in leaving me behind, but you should have known Raâs was not exactly the soft type. Â
You trying to make amends now does not erase the years I suffered under the Leagueâs roof.
The endless training, the times I was left to fend for myself on that cold mountain and remote junglesâŠÂ
You broke your promise to keep me safe.â
âI know.â Marinette whispered, gripping the blanket in her hands. âI know I did and Iâm not asking for your forgiveness.Â
I know that will take time for me to earn.Â
Iâm only asking for your understanding.â She reached out to wipe away a tear on his face only for Damian to swat her hand away.Â
âWhy now? Why ten years later after I already have a family?â
âI didnât know about you living with your father until recently and as for searching for you knowâŠâ Marinette looked at her hands. âAfter I left you, I returned to the Temple where I was trained and searched for my old mentor.
He nursed me back to health and helped me figure out my next stepsâŠor at least I wanted him to help me take you out of the League.
But he refused, going as far as placing a spell on me to prevent me from going near the League ever again.â Marinette balled her fist. âHe further weakened my resolve when he told me about my parentsâŠor rather, parent.âÂ
Marinette let out a shuddering sigh. âI found out my mother died a day before I made it to the TempleâŠthey said she couldnât bear the anguish of my disappearance anymoreâŠ
My father became depressed due to her death and I-I couldnât find it in myself to not make my way back to Paris. I didnât want him to think I was still missingâŠso I went back.
He died a month later despite my return but he said he was glad to have at least witnessed me get married in my motherâs wedding cheongsam before dying.âÂ
Damian knew he shouldnât fully blame Marinette for leaving him behind, he shouldâve known that she did everything she could to take him away from there⊠and yet-
âSo just because your mentor forbade you from going back, you decided to move on? To forget-â
âThere wasnât a single day where I didnât think of you.â Marinette firmly told him, meeting his eyes. âAfter all, every cut you got on your hand, every blow you took from your training- I felt everything because of the spell.
The stronger the punch, the higher the fall- I would experience it in the form of a sudden pain, a sudden seizureâŠ
I ended up being bed bound during the first few years, probably due to the intense training Raâs had you in as a child.Â
They slowed down once the years passed and you got older.â Marinette frowned. âBecause I was so keen on the developments of your training, I knew something was wrong when I suddenly collapsed in my home after feeling a sharp pain through my arm after years of dull pains.â
âBut how did you track me to Gotham? For all you could have known, it could have been a fluke.â
âI may not be a hero any longer, but that doesnât mean the intuition left me.â Marinette said. âBut all it took was researching every little crime and villain activity throughout the world and looking further into the odder ones.
Ones where too many coincidences overlapped and would otherwise look normal to the ordinary detective but not to someone who knew League patterns.â
Marinette narrowed her eyes. âAnd unfortunately I managed to link too many coincidences to Gotham and upon seeing one Bruce Wayne being targeted and thinking the worse, I booked a flight despite Adrienâs admonishments.
And lucky for me, I managed to run into Talia and her new creation targetingâŠyou.â
âNew creation?â Damian tried to think about the night he was attacked, vaguely remembering having fought someone older than him. An adult⊠âWas it some new âheirâ she was trying to train?â
âShe cloned you Damian.â Marinette cut him off. âShe cloned you and boosted his development to replace you.âÂ
âWhat?â He asked in disbelief. âWhat is the point of-â
âBecause you no longer fit the Leagueâs criteria for its next leader. Living with your father has changed your mindset and in seeing that, Talia deemed it necessary to get rid of you.â
Damian knew Talia wasnât exactly the best of mothers out there and he knew she didnât fully love him to the extent a mother shouldâŠbut to want to kill him simply because he was no longer of use to her? To the League?
She shouldâve just stripped him of- â-your title is what youâre thinking, isnât it?â Marinette finished his thought. âI asked her the same thing.â
âAnd what did she say?â
âShe hated that your father managed to take you away from her and that when she spoke to you, it reminded her of the way you used to act when she took you after taking you away from me.â
âThe way I spoke bothered her?â
âYou reminded her of me: free spirited and merciful.â Marinette let out a laugh, âAlthough I also reminded her Iâm more than just that when I killed her clone while taking a stab to my abdomen.â
âSo thatâs why youâre hospitalized.â Damian whispered. âYou took a hit for me.â
âAlthough I forgot the spell works both ways.â Marinette confessed. âBut at least you only got temporary amnesia from it. Thank kwami.â
âYou didnât have to do-â
âIt was the least I could have done at the time.â Marinette said with a smile. âAnd I would do it again if it meant saving you, Damian.â
âYou donât have to put yourself in danger for my sake.â Damian asked of her, feeling Marinette place her hand on his cheek. âIâm not a baby anymore. Iâm not a child.â
âBut you always will be. Now, in ten years- forever.â She placed a kiss on his forehead, a small emblem appearing on it before it disappeared. âA motherâs job doesnât ever stop.
Damian quickly touched his forehead.Â
âWhat did you do?â
âI changed the spell. Rather than one that shares the pain, I placed one to lessen the pain.â She narrowed her eyes. âThat doesnât mean you're allowed to become more reckless than what you already are.â
âWho said-â Damian started only for Marinette to cut him off.
âYour father. We talked as we cleaned up Taliaâs mess and helped heal you.â
âI see.â
The two sat in silence, feeling the air grow awkward. âAreâŠare you going back to Paris after you get discharged from the hospital?â
âParis? Oh! No, no, I live in Central at the moment.â Marinette looked at Damian. âBut I donât plan on going straight there at the moment. After all, I finally found you.â Marinette pulled Damian into an embrace, this time, Damian quickly embracing her back, his grip tight on her. âAnd I donât plan on letting you go any time soon. Got that?â
Damian hummed in acknowledgement.
âThank you for finding me Momma.â Damian managed to say without letting his voice crack. âThank you for protecting me.â
Prompt: "What if I don't want to be a Magical Girl?"
Ship: Damian Wayne x Marinette Dupain-Cheng
Summary: After years of relentless battles, Marinette finds herself adrift and weary in the aftermath of Hawkmothâs defeat. By a twist of fate, she ends up in a new city, leaving behind the tangible reminders of her trauma in pursuit of a genuine fresh start. University life brings new friendships and, unexpectedly, sweeps her into a whirlwind romance with someone who understands all too well the scars left by a childhood of being forged into a weapon. Through newfound honesty and boundaries rarely granted to them before, the former child heroes slowly begin to heal; together.
Chapter 1/?
Thunk.
âWhat to do, what to do,â Marinette muttered, throwing another dart at the foam board.
Thunk.
School has been over for weeks.
Thunk.
She had finally received her bac grade.
Thunk.
It was an eighteen. An eighteen. After everything was said and done, after Madame Mendeleiev had made a big deal about how âGod gets twenty, teachers get nineteen, and the best student ever will get eighteenâ, she had done it. Marinette had gotten an eighteen.
Thunk.
Not that it matters since she wasnât going to university because, despite being able to get eighteen on le bac, sheâs too stupid to do anything right.
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk!
Itâs not like Marinette had missed the application deadline on purpose. There had just been more important things to do, like finally taking down Hawkmoth, and then she had to deal with the aftermath of the whole world suddenly knowing that Paris had been in the middle of a war for years. All of a sudden, Marinette had the Justice League breathing down her neck, asking question after question about why they hadnât been contacted, when she had, or how she planned to secure the miraculi she had retrieved, like it was any of their business!
Thunk!
Æâ±łÄ É±ÄŻ of the in-between! They had tried to tell her, the Grand Guardian of the Miracle Box, how it would really be best if they were the ones to hold on to them. As if it wasnât her, quite literally, life-bound duty to protect and care for the Æâ±łÄ É±ÄŻ and their miraculi.
Ugh!
Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!
...and now she was out of darts, and pissed off, and no closer to figuring out what to do.
Sighing, Marinette got up and walked to the foam board, plucking the darts with a little more force than was probably necessary. A knock on her door similarly pulled Marinette from her spiraling thoughts. Not even a moment after the initial sound, the hatch creaks open, revealing Alya in all of her freshly styled glory.
âHey,â Marinette greeted with a warm smile, letting the darts in her hand roll from her fingers onto her desk as she passed it on her way to greet her friend. âHow was it?â She inquired, hugging Alya quickly before ushering her deeper into her room and gently shutting the trapdoor.
âGirrrrl! It was so awesome!â Alya cheered. âThe whole, ânever meet your heroes,â thing? Does not apply to the goddess that is Lois Lane.â
Marinette let out a snort at her friend's reverence.
âIâm glad it went well.â
âWell? It didnât go well. It went amazingly. Ugh- what I wouldnât give to work under a woman like her.â Alya whined as she flopped onto the chase. Which only served to draw out another round of laughter from the designer. Something that earned a glare from Alya as she rolled over to level a look at her. Not that the stern look lasted long, as it melted away into warmth. âThanks again for getting me that invitation. I never would have been able to go to an event like that on my own.â
âItâs no problem, really. Aunt Pennyâs invitation would have been wasted on me, and you know Iâm always happy to help.â Marinette waved off, taking a seat at her desk since the chase was fully occupied with the way Alya was still sprawled over it, even if she was facing Marinette now and was no longer face down in the cushion.
âI suppose it would have been a waste.â Alya drawls teasingly. âCanât really make any new, important connections if you already know everyone who is big and important at an event like that.â The brunette sighed, a dreamy and over dramatic thing as she placed the back of her hand to her forehead. âOh, to have the rich and famous throwing themselves at your feet.â
âShut up!â Marinette groaned, dropping her head onto her desk. âThatâs not what I meant, and you know it!â
Now it was Alyaâs turn to laugh as she pushed herself up.
âObviously.â Alya agrees with a roll of her eyes. âYou know Iâm just playing, girl.â She chuckled.
But when Marinette doesnât laugh along with her this time, she pauses, giving her friend a once-over. Noticing the tense posture despite Marinetteâs defeated slump, she took to looking around her friendâs room for clues. Alyaâs eyes latched onto every minute detail with a perception she had honed from years of being the LadyBlog reporter. There wasnât much around the room to go off of, at least nothing that looked out of place or new, so Alyaâs only hint that something other than her joking commentary about Marinette being a magnet for the rich and famous is the fact that Marinette has her dart board out, which means she was upset way before Alya had even gotten there.
âAlright, spill.â Alya prompted, crossing the room to join Marinette at the desk, leaning against the wooden structure the designer was slumped against. âWhatâs up? Youâre doing the whole, silently spiraling thing, and you know thatâs not allowed- and donât even say itâs nothing or itâs fine, I will get the spray bottle again. Do not test me!â
Marinette snorts at the threat, but it came out short and thin. More of a choked-off noise than anything else. Lifting her head to give Alya a pitifully sheepish look.
âI may have messed up,â Marinette admitted, earning a raised brow.
âLike âOops, I just ordered ten yards of the wrong fabricâ kind of messed up, or âAccidentally on purposely staging a semi-hostile but completely legal takeover and rebrand of the company Gabriel in order to liberate the damsel in distress that is our sweet summer child Adrien Agresteâ kind of Oops?â Alya inquired. Receiving an incredulous look for both the comparison scale used and how fast and smoothly Alya had said it, without stumbling over her words.
âHow long have you had that one ready?â Marinette couldnât stop herself from asking.
Which, of course, got her a deadpanned, âSince the incident where you accidentally on purposely staged a semi-hostile but completely legal takeover and rebrand of the company, Gabriel, in order to liberate the damsel in distress that is our sweet summer child, Adrien Agreste. Now donât change the subject. How bad of a mess up are we talking about?â
Marinette tilted her head to the side and narrowed her eyes.
âYou just like saying that whole thing, donât you?â
âObviously.â Alya grinned. âItâs a mouthful, so itâs fun, and it's a statement that properly shows off and credits my best friend for her insanity. Of course, I like saying it. Now spill.â
Sighing, Marinette sat up, turning sideways in her chair to give Alya her full attention.
âI missed the university deadlines.â
Alya blinked, expecting a punchline to follow that kind of statement from the designer, but Marinette only fiddled with her sleeve, eyes fixed on the floor, she realized that it wasn't a joke.Â
âWait, what?â Alyaâs voice pitched up in shock. âYou practically invented color-coded to-do lists. You set calendar reminders for my own internship apps. What happened?â
Marinette gave a weak smile. âYeah, well. Turns out itâs easier to remind other people than yourself. I just got busy and kept thinking Iâd do it later. Too much was going on, with school, the bakery, and helping Adrien with the whole âget a normal lifeâ operation. Things piled up and⊠I didnât even realize the deadlines were passing until it was too late.â
Alyaâs eyes softened, then went sharp with the glint of a plan. âOkay, so, maybe the Paris deadlines are toast. But hey, itâs not the end of the world. Some universities in the States are still open for fall apps. I saw a thread about it, rolling admissions and all that. We can look it up together, see if anything clicks for you.â
Marinette blinked, hope flickering. âYou really think itâs not too late?â
Alya grinned, âIf thereâs one thing us backup heroes know, itâs how to improvise. Weâll get you somewhere amazing. Promise.â She assured Marinette, bumping her shoulder teasingly. Completely missing the look of guilt that flashed too quickly over Marinette's features when the topic of being a backup hero came up, before she buried it behind an appropriately optimistic look.
âOkay, letâs check it out.â Marinette breathed, Alyaâs pep talk having reignited some of her hopes for the future, at least enough to pull Marinette out of her spiral to look into schools in the States.
âGreet!â Alya cheered, hopping up to sit on the edge of the desk, already pulling up university lists and forums. Her fingers flying over her phoneâs screen as she taps and types.
Marinette stared for a moment, then shook her head with fond amusement as she booted up her laptop. Letting the familiar hum of her poor, achedemically abused machine, grounding her. Within minutes, their screens were filled with tabs of university websites, deadline trackers, art program rankings, and application guides. Every once in a while, Alya would tilt her phone so Marinette could read something, but the more schools she looked into, the more overwhelmed Marinette got. Her eyes widened with every new tab that Alya showed her. California, New York, Illinois, TexasâŠ
There were so many states, each with dozens of universities, each with its own forms, essays, and requirements. The more she scrolled, the more the choices blurred together, until it all felt like an impossible mountain. Alya, being the observant friend that she is, noticed Marinetteâs growing anxiety and hopped off the desk.
âHang on,â Alya instructed, grabbing four of the darts from the desk and a map that had been left to gather dust with the rest of Marinette's studying supplies. Walking over to the other side of the room, the reporter placed the map against the foam board, which was covered with pinholes, and used the dart to stick it to the board. Each dart pinning a corner to keep the map in place. Once Alya was satisfied with her work, she walked back to Marinette, grabbing a scarf off the coat hook as she passed.
âCome on, up you get.â Alya urges so she could step behind Marinette and tie the scarf like a blind fold.
âAlya- what?â Marinette laughed, but allowed her friend to do as she pleased since it meant not having to focus or plan anything.
âHere,â Alya states. Placing a dart in Marinetteâs hand. âHold that tight.â The brunette instructed before she began spinning the designer in circles. âWeâre leaving it to fate. Blindfold, spin, and throw. Wherever it lands, thatâs where you apply.â
âWhat if it ends up in the ocean?â Marinette squeaked.
âThen youâre going to Atlantius University or something.â Alya shrugged. âBetter aim well if you donât want to practice holding your breath.â She states nonchalantly as she continues spinning her friend.
Marinette laughed, half-desperate, half-relieved as Alya spun her gently, enough times to make her giggle with dizziness. When the world stilled, presumably in the direction of the dart board, Marinette steadied her stand, took aim, and threw.
Thunk!
The dart hit, with far more force than Marinette had expected from her throw, startling her slightly. She pulled off the blindfold, blinking as the light filtered back into her vision.
Alya whooped. âThere you go, girl. Choice made. Looks like Lady Luck is sending you to Jersey! Iâm looking up every New Jersey university with open applications and awesome art programs, and youâre applying to all of them. No arguments!â
âAlya!â Marinette whined. âThereâs no guarantee that Iâll get into any of the schools.â
âMari. I love you, but you canât be this oblivious. Girl, your academic grades were top of the school; any university would be luck yo have you.â Alya scoffed. âWhat did you get on le bac?â
Marinette muttered her answer as she turned to look away.
âWhat was that?â Alya inquired.
âAn eighteen,â Marinette repeated.
âSeriously? You think they arenât gonna take you with an eighteen?â Alya asked incredulously. âDonât answer that.â She ordered, holding a hand up to stop Marinetteâs retort. âAlright, first up: Rutgers. Theyâve got a killer design program, and their applicationâs still open. Then Montclair, and- oh, look, thereâs even a place called the âCollege of New Jersey.â You canât get more straightforward than that.â The reporter rattled off.
Marinette made a helpless noise, anxiety and hope warring in her chest. âThis is ridiculous,â she muttered, but she couldnât suppress the small smile tugging at her lips as Alya continued on as if she hadnât said a word. Explaining statistics and fun facts about each school as she switched between websites at a speed that only someone used to quickly checking multiple sources in real-time during an interview could keep track of.
Alya gave Marinette a knowing look when the designer hesitantly pulled up a few of the universities aplications on her laptop. âYou know, youâre allowed to be excited, Marinette. The worldâs not ending. Youâre not stuck. And youâre definitely not alone in this.â She nudged Marinetteâs shoulder gently.
Marinette took a shaky breath. âOkay. Rutgers, Montclair, College of New Jersey. Iâll start with those.â She decided, steadying her hands as she got to work.
âAtta girl,â Alya grinned, already pulling up bookmarked essay prompts. âAnd donât worry about the personal statement, between helping to save Paris as our favorite little mouse and running a fashion brand, youâve got more material than anyone.â
Marinette hesitated, fingers hovering over her keyboard. âYeah, about that⊠Iâm not going to use any of the hero stuff in my essays.â
Alyaâs head snapped up. âWait, what? Why not? Marinette, how many people can say theyâve actually been a magical girl? Thatâs, like, once-in-a-generation stuff. Admissions people would eat it up!â
Marinette fiddled with the edge of her sleeve, gaze dropping. âItâs just⊠I never wanted to be a magical girl. Or a hero, or whatever you want to call it.â She gave a small, self-deprecating laugh. âI was just the easy pick. Right person, right time.â
Alya opened her mouth, then shut it again, surprise flickering across her face. Marinette offered a small, apologetic shrug. âSome people grow up dreaming about the spotlight, but thatâs not really the story I want to tell. I do better standing in someone elseâs shadow. Itâs why my role was recon and info gathering.â She stated, alluding to Multimouseâs publicly known role, even if she was talking about her time as Ladybug. Not that the reporter knew that.
Alya was quiet for a moment, the hum of Marinetteâs laptop filling the silence. Then, softly, she said, âYou know, wanting to be seen for who you are in the aftermath, thatâs not a bad story either.â
Marinette let out a shaky breath, finally meeting Alyaâs eyes. âWhat if who I am isnât enough?â
Alya rolled her eyes, affectionate but firm. âGirl, youâre more than enough. And if any school canât see that, they donât deserve you. Besides, youâre not just anyoneâs shadow. Youâre the one who makes everyone else shine brighter.â
A small smile crept onto Marinetteâs face. âYouâre going to make me cry.â
âDonât you dare,â Alya grinned, tossing Marinette a tissue box just in case. âNow. Which prompt are you starting with? Iâll help you brainstorm- no hero stuff, promise.â
Marinette nodded, determination settling in her chest. She clicked open the first application, hands no longer shaking as much. âOkay. Letâs do this.â
Cass: *braiding Barbara's hair* Why did you ask to join us for our hair styling part of the sleepover Dami?
Damian: I need to practice.
Steph (teasing): Awww~ is it for your future daughter?
Damian: No. Well- maybe that too someday. But no that's not what motivated me joining you.
Barbara: Then what'd you need practice for?
Damian: Sometimes little girls who've been through accidents need surgery and need their hair out of the way. I want to braid their hair nicely to help them feel a little less scared.
Aaaannnnd here's another drabble for @official-timari-server's One Shot Speed Run!
Some context: Dick found Luka's corpse, the boy having promised to come back alive from the final fight against Hawkmoth.
âI killed no one!â Hawkmoth defended himself. âHow dare you-â
âGabriel Agreste.â Dick sternly spoke, reaching down to grab the bracelet Luka left behind. He watched as the bracelet wrapped under his touch, the silver now turning black. âIâll make you regret making an enemy out of me.â
Dick slipped the bracelet on, watching as Sass morphed into existence, his eyes widened when he noticed the glowing mask hovering over his face. âYou will face my wrath, Hawkmoth, my reprisal.â
The mask hovering over Richardâs face shattered into pieces. âDonât you dare run away, cowardâ Dick scowled. âSass, scales on.â
And I'm back with another submission @official-timari-server ! This time, outlining a new chapter for a fic I completely forgot existed (I'm a terrible mother to my fics).
Prompt: Outline the WIP stuck in your head
Second Chance At A Life Without You - Chapter 3: Is This [Happiness] Allowed? Outline
Jason is navigating through the library, enjoying the new books and hanging out with Luka when he can
Sometimes Sabine is there, sometimes she drops him off for a bit before returning 30 minutes later and staying
She eventually meets Anarka and they become close friends
Ankara goes fond of Jason, sometimes calling him her little nephewÂ
A few weeks pass by when Jason is comfortable enough with the French language and starts to look at maps of the currentÂ
It where he confirms he is definitely in another universe with no way back
He even tries to search up a bit of time travel but ends up finding fictional books with time travel themes but no scientific ones about the subject nor exploring it
[redacted]
It takes a few days for Jason to let his findings finally settle down, Anarka and Luka visiting him and offering to visit their home (they live on a home near the river. Jesus Anarka knows better than to give the government more things against her while she has a small child.)Â
Luka often hears Jason apologize to an Alfred, Bruce and Dick?, wondering who they were but never brought them up to Jason nor to Sabine and Tom.
Tom decides to take some time to be one on one with Jason, helping him design his new room.
As they see it, Jason notices a book nook right between shelves that reached the top of his room.
âIs this?â
âYour own library.â As a gift, Tom hands him a wrapped present.
âYour mother was a bit worried about me getting you this book. But I told her: âyou know he loves books. He adores them and treats them as gently as a newborn kitten.âÂ
Jason opens the book, revealing a first edition of The Adventure of Sherlock Holmes.
âIt will be worth every penny if we give him this book as the first one in his library.âÂ
Memories of Alfred flooded Jasonâs mind, remembering that Alfred always got him a first edition for every birthday and good report card.
Jason hugs Tom tightly and thanks him for it, saying he will cherish it forever.Â
He couldnât go back home, but that didnât mean he couldnât enjoy the same things he did when he lived back in his old world.Â
This was his new life now.
Bruce, Alfred and Richard wouldâve wanted him to live it.
Months pass, Jason growing and learning to be a boy again. Going to museums and joining a judo club.
Jasonâs happily reading the book right before bed when Tom and Sabine come in to say goodnight.
Or at least he thought they were.
 âJason. We have very important news to tell you.â
âAre we going somewhere tomorrow? A museum? Oh! Is it someoneâs birthday?â
Tom and Sabine giggle, handing Jason a small package.
