Mariette: And, In The End We're All Human Beans.

imagine vigilante!Marinette in gotham wielding the fox and/or cat but instead of messing with the bats she keeps saving their asses because they cannot last one night without a near death experience

she has to pull batman's cape back to keep him from falling off the roof

picks up nightwing's escrima sticks so he doesn't trip over them again

purposely trips or shoves red hood so he misses a bullet. or multiple bullets.

shakes tim awake because he keep dozing off mid-battle

takes out goons about to sneak up on damian

and they never notice

bonus: it's biodad bw and the whole batfam thinks they're successfully hiding their nightly activities from marinette

batfamily twitter but it’s tim drake being a rapscallion

I firmly believe that Jason Todd was the scrawniest Robin by a very wide margin (he was both short and a beanpole) he earned the nickname Little Wing by literally being a spec of a child.

Sure, all the robins were small (they’re kids) but Jason was notably scrawny.

This is why basically no one saw it coming that he was Red Hood. My man died, fucked off for four years, experienced puberty and came back 14 inches taller and built like a fridge.

It's not really well known, but Carrie Kelley is canon in DC comics.

A few years back, she was the Robin that came after Dick, but it was soon retconned and she was erased from canon.

But in Batman and Robin (2011), she makes an appearance.

Carrie Kelley, in new canon, is a college student who gave Damian acting classes. Nobody knew that he was getting tutored by her, but it was revealed to Bruce in a 'not pleasent' way.

In her first few panels, we see her trying to contact Damian because he had stopped showing up to the lessons and stopped taking her calls. This had upset her, as he was naturally talented (according to her) in acting. She was also worried about him.

Carrie, then, shows up at the Wayne Manor looking for Damian. However, she does not get what she was looking for.

Bruce tells her that he had sent him abroad for education and Carrie is not happy with that. At that time, we can see that Carrie knows Damian well enough to know that he wouldn't be happy getting sent to another country. She also blames Bruce for losing a great acting partner.

After Bruce leaves, we see Alfred converse with Carrie and offer her a job of taking care of Titus. Carrie happily agrees to it.

A few days later, she comes back to the manor and Bruce is visibly uncomfortable. It's clear that he does not want her here. Bruce asks her what she is doing in his house, and Alfred explains the situation.

Bruce and Carrie start talking a little as Bruce is curious about Damian's new friend. Carrie mentions a movie she made of Titus and also about an interview she had with Damian before he had started taking acting lessons. She also mentions that Damian was like a little brother to her and with him being blunt and true, it was easy to befriend him.

Bruce asks her for the the interview footage and Carrie makes a deal with him instead. She'd give him the interview footage if Bruce gives the movie she made about Titus to Damian. She also asks Bruce to tell Damian to give her a call. Bruce agrees to the deal.

Later on, when she leaves, Bruce keeps his promise and takes Titus' movie to Damian and places it onto his grave...

I love how you know that and are willing to inflict it on the rest of us.

Bruce’s core Issues with his Children/Child-Apprentices

This will be going in age and highlighting what I feel is sort of the core source of tension between Bruce and his various ‘kids’, it’s not exhaustive, but it covers the biggest glowing red spot I feel, now, from oldest to youngest! 

Dick: Dick is the favorite, but this basically just means he gets picked for the toughest battles, is held tot he most insanely high standard and is otherwise the one Bruce leans on the most and that is a crushing weight. 

Cassandra:  Cass is the one he projects onto, this means they get along, but also means he’s constantly undermining her physical and mental health & making her life worse because its what he does to himself and won’t let her be her own person. 

Jason:  Jason, be he alive, dead or ressurected is probably the one Bruce is most comfortable loving, but understands the absolute least, no matter his state he does not know what Jason needs, was, or will do at any given moment. 

Stephanie:  Steph isn’t his kid but he made her Robin; I’d say he is very fond of her, but that he ultimately resents her more than any of the others, because she reminds him of Jason, because she won’t yield and that this motivates his abuse of her. 

Timothy:  Tim is the one he identifies with most, not projects onto, not the favorite, but the one who he looks at and goes, “Oh its me”, likely cos of their similar class, which causes him to try and make Tim more like him at Tim’s expense. 

Duke:  Duke is tricky cos I don’t know of any major fallout between them, but based on what I’ve read I would say he puts perhaps the most pressure on Duke, he ‘sees great things in him’ and so piles on the expectations till the breaking point. 

Damian:  This was hard for the source of it is simple, I honestly feel Damien is the one he is the least invested or connected with. He’ll acknowledge Damien as his son, but he won’t put any real effort into the relationship unless its impacting him.

First Fic: Thank You for the Topic of My Next Therapy Session

Crossposted on ao3 Leave a comment if ya like it or have ideas!

Inspiration: BioDad!BruceWayne

Chapter 1 of 4

Marinette has not been having the best few weeks lately. Akuma Attacks are becoming more frequent and violent, Luka has just been turned into an Akuma (again), and she is having to deal with a life-changing revelation (also again!?) that she should have been ignorant of for the next few years! But no. Her Ladybug luck just had to be with her as she opened her mother’s important documents drawer while in search of something significantly less important than what she did find! Her Maman only asked her to find her pearls, but what Marinette found were lies and significant emotional damage.  

That happened weeks ago. She refuses to acknowledge it, so Sabine has no idea that Marinette knows, and honestly? Marinette would like to keep it that way. For as long as possible. Which might not be very long at all with the way this day is shaping up.  

Luka Couffaine, an amazing boy who Marinette genuinely cares about and trusts as a friend and permanent member of Team Miraculous, has been akumatized into Truth (AGAIN! Can Hawkmoth be original? For once?) because she refuses to admit to being stressed and yes she was fine, Luka. There is no need to be worried. Now, he is gunning to expose her secrets. Starting with her classmates who are with them on the Liberty.  

“What is Marinette’s biggest secret?” Truth demands, enforced by the magic eye-thing strapped to his back. Hawkmoth’s really pushing it with these Akuma designs lately. Like, the black with the blue assented suit is nice and the glowing three eyes are a cool touch. What Marinette draws the line at is the frEAKING HUGE HUMAN EYE THAT IS HANGING JUST BEHIND HIS HEAD. Safe to say, she is not impressed.  

“Marinette has a crush on Adrien!” Each student yelled when hit by a beam of white-colored light. Right, the Akuma is trying to find her secrets and should be taken down without getting hit. She can do that. Also, this is exactly why she will not be sharing Ladybug's identity with you, Alya. Just because you are part of the Underground does not mean you are privy to all of the secrets. 

“Everybody knows that! That’s not a secret!” Wow. Like... ow. Truth is just being mean at this point. Marinette can keep a secret! She has been Ladybug, Multimouse, and the Guardian for years with nobody finding out her civilian identity unless given permission. ALSO! She can confidently say that she has gotten over her crush on Adrien Agreste. Was it hard? Yes. Will Marinette always have a soft spot for the boy who was also her partner in cri- heroism? Absolutely. Did she realistically have time between being Ladybug, running the Underground as Multimouse, going to school, completing commissions as MDC, and helping her parents in the pâtisserie for a crush? No, she did not. The stress of doing so was actually the main motivator to let the crush go (unknowingly advised by said crush before the reveal).  

Though it is a bit freeing to know that she now blushes, not from the reveal of her once crush on Adrien, but because everyone still believes she hasn't worked past it. Which... wow, that really says something. Something that Marinette will put on her "deal with later" list. 

Oh no, Truth is looking at her. He must have heard her sigh. Fuck 

“Ladybug, tell me your biggest secret!” he demands. If she was just a bit faster in hitting the deck, she wouldn’t have been hit on her right foot. was touched by the compelling laser. Double Fuck.  

The distinct purple moth mask appears over the face of Truth. Hawkmoth was watching, the psychotic bastard. Marinette has run out of fucks to give. Three is too many.  

“M’lady!” yells her partner, Chat Noir. He must have seen her get hit because he began to run at her, unbuckling his belt. Thank all that is good, for she had the same thought as Chat to use the belt as a gage. The problem with that idea is that it is assuming that he can get it to her before she spills any secrets. You know what they say, assume makes an ass out of u-and me.  

Marinette could tell from the sudden tension on the boat that everyone on that boat, Hawkmoth, and the thousands of people watching on the live stream Alya's blog was hosting were waiting for the admission of her civilian identity. It was what made Chat Noir run faster. What made the students (and Hawkmoth) hold their breath. It was not, however, what was causing Marinette to go through three panic attacks at the same time. No, that went to the knowledge that written on her birth certificate, in the space that was for the name of the birth father, was Bruce FREAKING Wayne. Also, the adoption papers claim her as Tom Dupain’s daughter.  

Her birth father wasn't the man who raised her! The man that she has grown up loving and hugging and bonding over video games with wasn’t her blood. The man who was her blood didn’t want her. And she knows this because she found no divorce or marriage certificates between her mother and Bruce Wayne: meaning he got her mother pregnant in a one-night stand or broke up with her as soon as he found out she was pregnant!  

Then he went and adopted Richard Greyson only a few months after she was born, making her self-confidence dive off the Eiffel Tower! The emotional weight just got heavier as she researched, and Instagram/Twitter stocked her would-be-siblings in the weeks since she found out. They looked so happy and comfortable! Happiness she could have been a part of if she had reached some type of criteria her father had that the others did. Marinette is sure that she would get along super well with them, yet she couldn't be claimed as their sister when Bruce had so easily thrown her away. 

Under no circumstances can she say all that as Ladybug, though. It could lead anyone curious enough to look to find out her identity. Good thing she knew Bruce Wayne was Batman. A startling realization at the time, but ultimately made sense. Didn’t make the feeling of inadequacy any better. Against her will, she opens her mouth and just barely finds the mental strength to switch the names Bruce Wayne and Batman before speaking.  

“My father isn’t my father! My bio dad is Batman, and he abandoned me, and my mother doesn’t know that I know now... FUCK.”  

Silence. Pure silence. Able-to-hear-a-pin-drop silence.  

“...what?” The silence is broken. Chat stands stunned staring incredulously at Ladybug like everyone else on the boat, but with the added layer of actually knowing her civilian identity. If Marinette could see Hawkmoth right then, she would have seen the same state of shock as her classmates. The would-have-been-helpful belt lays limp in Chat’s hand as they all try to reboot their brains. Truth rebooted faster than the others.  

“Why did he abandon you?” Ladybug, mentally screaming, couldn't move before the laser hit.  

“The hell if I know, he left as soon as he found out my mom was pregnant!” An assumption on her part, but pitying and sympathetic looks come from her classmates anyway. Chat is still stunned. The chat on the live stream Marinette had forgotten about stops for a second before rapidly whizzing by with many expletives and shocked face emojis. This will hopefully be a moment to laugh at in a few days... oh Kwami, please. 

“Do you resent him for it?” Ladybug tried to dodge, but her section of the boat was small and open. She got hit.  

“Yeah, a little. He abandons me and my mom and then a few months after I was born, the first Robin comes into the picture. So, it kind of hurts.” At this point, the students are too invested to move, and it is safe to assume that Chat will not be of any help during this fight as he is too far gone.  

“Are you jealous of the first robin?” Ladybug has no choice but to charge head-on and take the laser.  

“I don’t think so. I’m more hurt by the fact that he continued to adopt more kids, but never came back for me. And STOP ASKING INVASIVE QUESTIONS!” He engages her in hand-to-hand combat that has her performing awe-inspiring acrobatics to get around the eye. She lands a solid punch to his liver that has him doubling over just as the next question is asked.  

“Would you want a relationship with your siblings?”  

“I have always wanted siblings, but I don’t know if I can even call them that since Batman didn’t choose me but chooSE THE OTHERS!” Her last words were yelled in exertion as she judo-flips Truth over her shoulder with impressive agility and core strength. She is quick to snatch the akumatized necklace and break it. Purifying the Akuma and Amok, Marinette looks to the sky and heaves a long-suffering sigh. “Holy FUCK Batman. Thank you for giving me the next topic of my therapy sessions.”  

The French Government issued a blackout of all things Akuma-related at the beginning of this whole fiasco to keep from attracting the Justice League and their million-dollar guarantee solutions. It did not, however, withstand France's 64.6 million citizens working towards the same goal.  

They loved Ladybug. Like they loved her. She is the hero that created the team they can always depend on to save the day anywhere in France! Much more than the Justice League who had ignored her repeated calls that were sent outside of France and the blackout (It was a busy week for reporters when their beloved heroin had gone public with the ignored request for help. Fuck you Green Lantern).  

They loved her so much that to not only find out that Ladybug is the daughter of the American vigilante, detective extraordinaire, Batman, but that he also abandoned her, their displeasure will not go unheard. Every one of the thousands of people tuned into the Ladyblog’s live stream had saved it, cut it to manageable bits, and then sent it to everyone they knew on every internet platform they were on. 26 hours later, the rest of the world was calling for an explanation for the viral video that kept changing titles to not get deleted.  

The French government had no choice but to lift the blackout.   

As a result, the Ladyblog skyrocketed in viewership and recognition for its consistency in recording the Akuma fights (much to Alya’s delight and her friend's bemusement). Many viewers would just watch the saved live stream. More would watch the rest of the videos. News articles are read, websites visited, and people watched the Duo of Paris and, later, their Miracle Team take down villain after villain, day after day, battle after gruesome battle. With the Parisian public singing their praises, it wasn’t long before the rest of the world adored the Parisian Heros just as much as the locals - if not more so.  

All that the world was waiting for at this point was the inevitable reunion of the "Batfamily" and the Justice League's response to the Heroes of Paris. 

Jason: Have you ever thought about what it'd be like to look God in the face and call them a bitch?

Plagg, sitting up from where he was laying: Marinette says it to me every day.

Marinette: It's true. Plagg, you're a bitch.

Jason: Pft.

OHSHCAU (Keysmash)

Part 1

Summary: Flowers fluttered past her, carried by some kind of impossible breeze. One smacked her in the face. (Or the Ouran High School Host Club AU. Or the Keysmash AU for the cultured people of the MGI server.)

Marinette literally just wanted to find a quiet place to study.

The library had been full of people that apparently didn’t know that they were supposed to ‘sh’. The classrooms were locked. All of the clubrooms had clubs going on (which, duh, but it was still disappointing).

So, she made her way through the school, considering just giving up and resigning herself to doing her work on the floor even if she knew it would leave her with a back that ached for the next several days…

And then her eyes landed on a room at the end of the hall. The door was ajar, but she could only hear a faint murmur of conversation and the quiet clinking of porcelain.

She considered it for a few moments before sighing to herself and hiking her bag up higher. It was either this or beginning the painfully long trudge back to her house immediately after her gym class. She was already sore, she just wanted to relax for a few minutes.

So, she pushed the door open wider.

Flowers fluttered past her, carried by some kind of impossible breeze.

One smacked her in the face.

She brushed it off of her nose, only to find herself blinking up at the most popular person in the school.

Richard Grayson-Wayne smiled at her, pretty as ever with his perfectly gelled hair and perfectly pressed clothes. She suddenly felt a very strong urge to check her reflection in a mirror and sniff herself to make sure that her after-gym shower had been enough.

“Oh, are you a new guest?”

“Guest?” She repeated, a little dumbly. Forgive her, for he had taken her by the hand and started leading her inside and she was confused.

But then she glanced around.

Everything in the room was needlessly extravagant and expensive, but so was the rest of Gotham Academy. That wasn’t what she focused on, though.

Horror seized her as she realized what, exactly, she had stumbled into.

Because, as she looked around, she recognized more and more of the school’s most popular kids, and all of them were attending to the many people (usually girls, but not always) crowding them. And she remembered what, exactly, Richard Grayson-Wayne’s extracurricular was.

She jerked her hand away, eyes wide. “Uh, no, I think you’ve got the wrong idea, sir,” she said. And then internally freaked out because why the hell did she call him sir? He was two years older than her! Damn it! She could feel her face flushing in embarrassment.

He smiled and brought his hand up to cup her cheek. “Am I not your type? You can take your pick of the others, you know.” He smoothly moved to loop his arm around her shoulders and lead her further into the room. “What are you into? Women? Men? Both? Strong people? Smarts? A sense of humor or a mischievous streak? A stoic type? A princely person?”

“Um, listen, I was just looking for a place to study,” she said, slipping out from under him and taking a few careful steps backwards.

He smiled. “Of course you were,” he said in that tone people used when they were only humoring you.

She gave an awkward little laugh, still doing her best to back away from the situation in the most literal sense she could. “Seriously, I’m just going to go –.”

Her back hit something and she whipped around, her eyes wide, just in time to watch a vase pitch itself off a pillar.

She reached for it. Her fingers just barely brushed the handle. And then it hit the ground.

The porcelain shattered upon impact.

She stared at the shards, her hands resting on the pillar it had just been resting on as if trying to replace it, wishing that she could simply put the pitcher back together by sheer force of will. The color drained from her face as it slowly began to sink in that this was reality, that she had just broken a vase that had to be expensive considering everything else at this school was.

Marinette slowly turned back around to find everyone looking at her, their attention pulled by the loud crash. She swallowed thickly, her gaze flickering between the broken vase and Richard rapidly.

She needed to say something. Anything.

“I mean. It was kind of ugly.”

Anything but that!

At least someone was amused. A woman with blond hair – Stephanie Brown, she remembered her being on the news a while back – turned her head to snicker into her hand.

She cleared her throat. “No, sorry, that was weird to say. I’ll – I’ll pay for it.”

A dark-skinned boy made his way over, frowning lightly. The glittery, gold makeup dotted across his cheeks like freckles seemed to shine as he looked her over. She recognized him to be one of the kids in her science class, but his name eluded her. “Aren’t you a scholarship kid?”

“She is,” an unfortunately familiar voice chimed in. Her eyes narrowed in on Tim Drake. He was glaring at her over the rim of his rich kid teacup.

Marinette’s face suddenly remembered how to circulate blood, but it had overcompensated in its rush to fix its mistakes. A blush rose to her cheeks. “Okay, and? What of it?”

This got another laugh, but this one sounded different. A little colder. Someone clicked their tongue. A boy with tan skin around in his chair, stroking a cat in his lap, like some kind of D-list Rogue. “Then can you really afford it?”

She glanced at the vase again and shrugged. “I mean… probably? It can’t be more than a few hundred, can it? It’ll be a bitch, but –.”

A woman wheeled over, her wheelchair coming to a stop just in front of the pillar Marinette was still leaning against in the worst attempt at acting natural anyone had ever seen. She recognized her as one of the library assistants. Barbara Gordon didn’t even bother to look up from her phone while she ruined Marinette’s life with a mere sentence: “We were about to auction it off for charity, and the starting price was fifty thousand USD.”

Marinette choked on air. “Fifty… fifty thousand?!” She repeated. She barely fought off the urge to scream about how it wasn’t even a nice looking vase. She figured yelling at the people she was suddenly indebted to was, probably, not a great idea.

A guy in a leather jacket gave her an empathetic look. She pretended not to notice for the sake of her own sanity.

“That’s a joke, right?” She tried, ignoring how desperate she sounded even to her own years.

A woman lazing in the window shook her head, black lipstick-covered lips just barely curled into a frown.

“Any chance I can pay this off in parts?” She asked, resisting the urge to start doing math on her fingers to figure out exactly how much she was going to have to give up to work all of this off. She would do that later, when there were no eyes on her. “I – I don’t have a job right now, but I can get one, I promise, I’ll find a way to pay you back –.”

Richard clapped his hands together once, but this time his smile held no real warmth. “Don’t worry, I can think of a job that just opened up.”

*****

“Marinette, I left you alone for ten minutes,” Adrien said, pinching the space between his brows. He was currently messing with chemicals, so touching his face was not advisable, but he was wearing gloves so he was still, at least, more safe than 99% of other high school students would be.

“It was closer to an hour and a half,” she mumbled, watching the beaker in front of her bubble. She was very dedicated to lab safety, thank you very much.

“How did you even manage to become the – did you say you’re the host club’s dog? What? Like the kink?”

She groaned. “I can’t think of a less literal translation, okay? It’s like… they want me to clean, set up events, help them with clothes, serve drinks and food…”

“Servant? Assistant?”

“Sure,” she said, throwing a hand up frustratedly. “But could we maybe focus on the rest of my problem instead of the fact that English isn’t my first language?”

He gave her a mildly amused look that she didn’t return. And then he sighed, picking up his mortar and pestle again. “Okay. Well. I could always –.”

“If you say you want to pay off my debt for me I’m pouring this down your throat.”

He cleared his throat awkwardly, obviously not too fond of the idea if he was preemptively touching his neck. “I see. Well. Then. I guess we’ll be seeing less of each other.”

“Thank fuck for that.”

He elbowed her in the side. “Don’t think you can get out of doing your half of the presentation.”

She groaned and burrowed into her Batman hoodie. “But if I do the presentation I have to dress up…”

“Yeah? I have to dress up every day, make sure to always have an entire section of my backpack devoted to skin and hair care products in case of emergencies, bring extra clothes to school, and –.”

“Shut uuuuuup I get it,” she huffed, moving her now-luminescent pink liquid off its burner. “Rich people have their own problems or whatever.”

“We do. Like making sure we make good connections while in school, something you –” he poked her cheek. “– need to work on. Maybe this host club thing will be good for you. Help you put yourself out there or whatever.”

“You just want to laugh at me.”

His lips twitched into a grin. “True.”

She scowled. “Put down the mortar and pestle.”

He seemed to want to say no, he wasn’t stupid enough to not know why she wanted him to put it down, but then thought better of it. He resigned himself to his fate, sighing and setting it aside.

She tackled him off of his chair.

*****

Marinette was pretty sure that they were making her set up the auction she had accidentally ruined purely to spite her. Like, sure, setting up everything was technically her job, but the chances of this being her first assignment were abysmal.

She forced herself to breathe through it. Go to her happy place. Four in. Murdering the Waynes but also keeping her scholarship. Four out. Good.

She carefully made her way back and forth, setting everything in their respective spots, at an inching pace – she was not going to add more debt by breaking something else. Then she went around making sure the lights shined on them just so to make them seem shinier (“rich people are like magpies,” she had been informed with a sage nod). Finally, she checked that all of the notecards were in order and that the mics were all working.

She spun around in the middle of the room, going over everything with a critical eye, and then nodded once to herself.

She headed to the ‘dressing room’ (it was a closet they had repurposed).

“I’m done, Richard.”

“Dick,” he corrected lightly, leaning in to check his teeth.

She raised an eyebrow. “Sorry?”

His eyes widened and he whirled around, holding his hands up in a half placating, half surrendering gesture. “Nonono, I’m not calling you that, I’m saying that’s my name. Dick. Short for Richard.”

“I know. I’m just sorry.”

Dick sputtered. Damian made a wheezing sound that might have been a laugh.

Unfortunately for Damian, the wheeze drew Marinette’s attention. She groaned. “Oh my god, put the cat down, you’re in a suit for fuck’s sake,” she hissed. She looked around until she found a lint roller, and then thrust it towards him. “Trade me.”

Damian looked affronted. “I’m not putting down Alfred.”

She had to force herself to ignore the fact that he had named his cat Alfred of all things, she needed to concentrate on what was really important: threatening him.

“You are going to put down Alfred. I suggest you do it willingly.”

It was Dick’s turn to snicker at his brother’s misfortune.

Neither spared him a glance, too locked in their staredown. Marinette had thought for a moment that Damian was going to actually try and throw hands, but at least she would still be winning in that case because he would have to let his cat go to do so.

Eventually, Damian heaved a long-suffering sigh and handed off the cat. She set Alfred in her hood just so she could cross her arms over her chest while she watched Damian struggle with the lint roller for a solid seven minutes. She might be indebted to these people, but damn if she wasn’t going to be passive aggressive about it.

Dick grinned, leaning his arm on her shoulder. She felt short, in that moment, but it wasn’t her fault that the man was freakishly tall.

“You’re the best hire we could have ever had,” said the man who was unaware she was considering kneecapping him to make herself seem taller.

Not that she was going to tell him.

“I’m being held captive.”

“Same difference,” he joked.

And, despite herself, a tiny smile made its way across her face. His happiness was strangely contagious. No wonder he was so popular in the host club.

She reached up to tap him on the nose. “You haven’t done your stage makeup yet.”

He yelped out a curse and then ran to look for the makeup brushes, muttering under his breath about how that was what he had forgotten.

*****

Marinette stumbled into the library, a hand absently rubbing an ache between her shoulder blades. Her eyes locked with Babs’.

“Is it in ye –?”

“No,” Babs said, still tapping away at her computer.

Marinette slumped against the doorframe, letting her head knock against the wood. Maybe it would give her good luck.

“Life is a tragedy and I’m nothing more than Shakespeare’s bitch.”

The woman sighed and pushed up her glasses to rub an eye. “I’ll check it out for you when it comes in. Give it to you during the host club.”

Her posture brightened instantly. “Really?”

“Yeah, just don’t lose it. I have a perfect record when it comes to turning my books in on time and I don’t want you to ruin that.”

She grinned and did a mock salute. “Aye-aye.”

*****

Marinette absently stacked the plates, cups, and spoons on top of each other to take them into the next room for a quick wash. She kind of liked finding the optimal ways to stack things, it was like a very high-stakes game of Tetris. She carefully picked up her tower and was pleased to find that it didn’t shake in the slightest.

Only to blink when Jason stood up, holding a tiny stack of his own.

“Let me help.”

She stared blankly for a moment before she finally caught a quiet gasp nearby. Her eyes flicked in that direction and found a customer practically cooing over the basic human decency Jason had displayed. She sighed a little. Right, they had an audience. She pulled a slightly wobbly smile to her face.

“Sure. Thanks,” she said carefully. In the end, even if it was just to forward his image as a ‘baddie with a heart of gold’, it was still help and she wasn’t intent on saying no just to be petty.

Or, at least, that was what she had thought until he had kept doing it. Almost every night, without fail, he would help her clean up after everyone. Even if all of the guests were gone by the time he got away.

She finally gave in one day, her hands almost elbow deep in the sink water:

“Why do you keep helping me? You know that this isn’t your job, right?”

He gave her a strange look for a moment.

And then he gave the slightest of smiles. “I was poor, once, too.”

She nodded slightly. They went back to work with a quiet sense of solidarity.

“Also, you take too long to wash dishes on your own.”

She splashed him with the sink water.

He gasped, puffing up in his mock offense. “Hey! These pants are supposed to be cared for! They’re hand wash only!”

“Then this is perfect,” she said, grinning. “It’s totally deserved.”

He raised an eyebrow. “So is this.”

He used the cup he had been washing to scoop up some water and dump it over her head.

She stared at him for a full minute in stunned silence. And then a grin broke out over her face.

He suddenly looked like he was considering running away.

In the end, they finished the day more clean than the dishes, but hey. It’s the thought that counts.

(Just kidding. Sanitation doesn’t work like that. They overloaded the dishwasher to fix their mistakes.)

*****

Marinette sighed and set the cake down on a table, then turned to leave.

She stopped short when she saw Tim in the doorway, his bag half off his shoulder where he had been about to fling it away from himself like he did every day while opening up the clubroom.

“How’d you…?”

She shrugged and held up a keyring. “Asked the janitor.”

His brows furrowed momentarily, as if he were thinking, but then he just shook his head to dismiss the thought.

“Why do you have a wedding cake? Did you have a Vegas wedding or something?”

She groaned internally and forced herself to straighten up to her full height. “My parents are bakers. The wedding they catered today didn’t end up happening. Bride got cold feet – uh, literally, she was murdered, y’know? – and they said to give this to my friends.”

He raised an eyebrow. “So you brought it here?”

“Well, Adrien doesn’t have a cheat day for another two weeks, and if I ever have another slice of cake it’ll be too soon. This is kinda the last place I’ve got. Besides, it could please your guests.”

“Couldn’t you just give it out to the people in your homeroom?”

She rolled her eyes. “Do you want the cake or not? Because I have to go to class soon. Unlike you, I’ll get thrown out if I don’t attend every one of my classes, Drake.”

He snorted. “Aw? The scholarship student is struggling in her classes?”

“That’s not why, and if you really think that then you’re dumber than I thought,” she said, curling her fists at her sides.

A couple of complicated expressions flicked over his face, none of which she could get a good read on, but Steph’s head appeared over Tim’s shoulder before either of them could say something they regretted.

“Shut up and let the nice girl give us cake, Tim,” Steph said, smacking him over the back of the head as she brushed past him to get in the door. She grinned at Marinette. “Thanks for the food.”

Marinette gave a tiny smile in return.

She smiled even wider when, as Steph passed, she asked Marinette under her breath if she wanted to join her in throwing a slice of the cake into Tim’s face. As if it was even a question.

*****

Duke squinted at the needle in her hand suspiciously. His arm was already sanitized and the needle was prepped, it would only take around thirty minutes for her to get a sufficient amount of his blood to analyze. “Are you sure you know how to do this?”

She huffed. “Of course I do. Don’t be a pussy.”

“That’s sexist.”

“Okay? And not volunteering to help for my project is anti black.”

There was a beat before the pair of them broke into quiet snickers. Quiet, because neither of them wanted to get caught slacking off in the middle of their research class.

Marinette tapped the needle. “Don’t worry, if you’re good I’ll give you a cake pop.”

His smile almost seemed to light up the room. “Sounds like a deal. Stick me.”

(Later, she had found herself staring at his vitals with mild confusion. He almost didn’t seem human. And then she had quietly dismissed them as an outlier. Maybe she’d ask if he had been a victim of a Rogue attack recently when she saw him at their next host club meeting. Or not. That was kinda personal.)

*****

Marinette liked Cass. Neither of them really talked, but Cass didn’t talk much to anyone anyways.

Still, the girl was a soothing presence. Sometimes, when the days were slow or while they were waiting for the club to start, they could be seen sitting in the same window. Cass would listen to music. Marinette would do her homework or read a book.

It was pleasant.

At least, it was pleasant most of the time. It turns out a silent person can be a bad thing. Marinette now had a permanent chemical burn on the back of her arm because Cass had come up to her at the wrong time, had tapped her on the shoulder, and Marinette had flinched so hard in her surprise that she had ended up spilling an entire beaker over the back of her wrist.

She was pretty sure the seven solid, apology-filled minutes where Cass had helped her rush to the nurse’s office to stem the blood bubbling on her arm was the most she had ever heard her talk before.

*****

Marinette glared at her reflection, aggressively applying stage makeup to the area under her eyes. She would have to wash it all off right afterwards, stage makeup looks strange when up close and not under the effect of near-blinding lights. And then, after that, she would have to sit still while Adrien applied even more, but wildly different makeup to her face, for the second half of the conference where she would be forced to shmooze for the sake of funding.

But that was a problem for later. She needed to make sure everything was perfect.

Anything less than the best score in the school could throw her scholarship into jeopardy.

At least this was getting her out of her usual host club duties. Marinette and Adrien needed to present, so she would have gotten out for a few hours no matter what, but a solid number of the (actual, willing) host club members were in their age group. Duke, Tim, and Steph all had projects today as well.

They had canceled the host club for the day. Maybe the others would be attending the presentation, maybe not, she didn’t really care.

All she cared about right now was making sure she didn’t look like some kind of ethereal being made of light on stage.

A head dropped onto her shoulder and she rolled her eyes. “You look like a ghoul.”

Adrien grinned. “I think this is the best I’ve ever looked.”

“True.”

He gasped. “Rude.”

“I mean, you kinda set that one up for me,” she said, gently shoving him off so she could straighten fully. She patted down her deep red dress, checked her black heels to make sure they weren’t going to slip, and then turned to him. “Good?”

He hummed thoughtfully, tipping his head to the side. And then he shook his head, motioning for her to turn around. “I told you you needed to do something with your hair,” he said.

She huffed. “I did.”

“Letting it out of its usual pigtails is not ‘doing something’.”

“I mean… if you want to define the words –.”

He snorted. “Shut up. Let me fix this.”

She waited impatiently for him to brush her hair and pull it into a strict bun.

She scrunched her nose at her reflection. “I look like a teacher.” She pulled a strand out to frame her face.

He tucked it right back behind her ear. “Well, you’re teaching these people –.”

“You’re the most infuriating person I’ve ever met.”

“You’re looking in a mirror. Time to meet someone even worse. Nettie, meet Nettie.”

She pulled away the moment he was done. “The moment this is all over I’m beating your ass.”

“I mean, you kinda set that one up for me,” he mocked.

“I’m not kidding, Chaton. Meet me in the parking lot at 7pm.”

He only grinned, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his suit, and jerked his head to point towards the stage.

*****

Marinette and Adrien had chosen the safest possible option. Even if neither of them really cared about how the overexposure to chemicals had affected the average Gothamite’s physiology – they already knew that it would boost their immune systems in some areas, weaken it in some areas, and just generally cause a myriad of lung and heart problems, they weren’t stupid – it was something they knew was both a popular question at the moment and something that rich people would want to know so they could start finding solutions for themselves.

Which meant they might get funding from people that weren’t just Adrien’s Dad. Not only did Marinette not want to rely on him, grades and future teams/assignments were determined by how much funding you received. They were already at a disadvantage, Marinette’s parents weren’t rich and couldn’t make a sizable contribution like every other family at the academy could. They needed to win over anyone they could.

And they had done pretty well. Marinette had only stuttered and considered asking Adrien to anti-Bruce-Wayne her parents a single time.

They’d made up for it in the questions portion. The subject of chemicals was something they both knew an ungodly amount about, so they answered every question sent their way without a hint of hesitation. In the end, they’d gotten quite a few people to come up to tell them that they would be donating to their ‘cause’.

She hadn’t expected one of the people they had won over to be Bruce Wayne, though.

Marinette fought to not shrink back as the man that sponsored the scholarship program she used began to head her way. He was Gotham’s sweetheart, and a bit of a dunce, but he still held more power over her than she would prefer.

And he had his kids in tow. Even more people that could choose to ruin her life on a whim. Fun. She definitely wanted more of those.

She got a thumbs up from Cass, at least. Thanks, Cass.

As for the rest of the Wayne kids… they were currently looking at her like she had spontaneously sprouted an extra head. She made a tiny ‘what the fuck’ gesture with her hand, but they were too stunned to give her any kind of meaningful response.

Marinette looked to Adrien, and he looked back at Marinette, both of them making sure that they looked as good as was physically possible. They took the moment to share quiet ‘do you know what’s going on with them?’ looks, and ended up with nothing.

And then they threw a pair of identical smiles the Waynes’ way.

“Mr. Wayne!” She said with false cheer. “It’s so nice to see you! How is business going?”

He grinned. “It’s been great. You didn’t hear it from me, but I’m pretty sure our stock prices are about to jump.”

Adrien laughed lightly. “Oh? I’ll be sure to tell my dad to invest.”

Marinette wanted to die.

“Ah, yes, good investments are good,” the man said, giving him a daft kind of smile. And then he reached out and patted Marinette on the top of the head, making the tiny strand of hair tucked behind her ear fall back into her face. Luckily, the man didn’t notice. “Like her. Back when I first started sponsoring you, even I never could have guessed that you would become so smart.”

She forced a blush to her face. “Well, I’m just really good with chemistry. I’m just glad that it was accepted as being close enough to biology to count.”

“Our mutual love of chemical experimentation is what brought us together in the first place.”

Marinette leaned in conspiratorially, cupping a hand over her mouth to stage-whisper to the others: “Don’t let him fool you, he’s talking about the time he blew up his microwave.”

“For science! It was an experiment!” Adrien said with false offense.

Bruce chuckled good-naturedly and started rifling through his pockets for a checkbook. “Well, it would be wrong to give money to all my other kids and leave you out, don’t you think?”

Marinette stared at him for a moment, her fake smile fading slightly in favor of pure confusion. “Sir, I don’t know how to tell you this, but I’m not one of your kids.”

And, sure, she knew that Bruce Wayne’s kid situation was a little strange. There were only five actual Wayne kids: Dick Grayson-Wayne, Jason Wayne, Cassandra Wayne, Damian Al Ghul- Wayne, and Duke Thomas. There was also the weird gray area that was Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown, and Barbara Gordon, all of whom had one or more living parents but often found themselves grouped with the others because of how close they were to the Wayne family.

But Marinette? Marinette was a scholarship kid that was being forced to be around them all. She had talked to Bruce Wayne a grand total of four times, and one of those times was happening at this exact moment.

Bruce Wayne blinked once. Twice. Three times. And then he smacked his palm against his forehead. “Oh! Right! Sorry, the others talk about you so much that sometimes I forget you aren’t my kid.”

Marinette sometimes wondered if a man could truly be this dumb.

“Ah, don’t worry, I’m sure my parents could identify every single one of them in a line up with how much I talk about them,” she said, forcing her sweetest tone even as her gaze cut to the Wayne kids in a way that screamed ‘I have talked about murdering you multiple times’.

The Waynes now looked like they had just watched her grow a third head and were now resigned to the fact that she could apparently grow more heads. An improvement? Maybe?

Bruce chuckled and patted her on the head again. “They are little scamps, aren’t they?”

“They’re sweet, though,” she lied through her teeth. “I enjoy every minute we spend together.”

“I’d hope so!” The man said cheerfully.

And then Bruce, the godsend, the best person to ever exist, wrote a check and dropped it in her donation box. Marinette only just refrained from pumping her fist.

Still, the smile Adrien and Marinette gave after that was far more genuine.

Adrien smiled. “That was very nice of you, Mr. Wayne.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said.

“Of course! And, please, both of you, call me Bruce.”

“I don’t think you understand how much I just… can’t do that.”

He chuckled and gave her one last pat on the head – Adrien looked like he wanted to cry a little as his careful work started to come undone for real – before heading off to do whatever it was rich people do.

His kids didn’t join him.

Marinette turned to Steph, Tim, and Duke. “Good job on your presentation, Duke.”

(Listen, she liked Steph well enough, but Tim was a dick and she would rather die than compliment his work. Especially not when he was her main competition at the school.)

Tim didn’t even seem to register the snub, for once.

This gave Duke plenty of time to snicker and tell her, “I totally bombed. My partner didn’t even read the note cards I gave her.”

“I mean, yeah, but you’re not supposed to say that.”

He could only shrug a little, somewhere between amused and annoyed.

Dick didn’t give her much time to register the motion, though, as he came up and rested his hands on her shoulders.

She blinked at him. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re weirdly touchy?”

“I – wha –?” He shook his head, and she wasn’t sure if that was an answer or if he was just dismissing the question. “You’ve been attractive this whole time?”

Marinette ignored the fact that Adrien had chosen to break down laughing. It was surely unrelated.

She looked up at Dick for a moment. “I mean… duh?”

“But…” Damian said, sounding almost pained. “Every time we’ve seen you, you’ve worn a hoodie and jeans.”

“Yeah, because I’m not really interested in looking good for – I don’t know – fucking Kyle from my Calculus class.” She huffed. “Besides. Nice clothes? Makeup? That stuff is expensive. Way too expensive to use when I’m not getting any kind of return, y’know?”

Steph nodded her agreement. Ah. Working class solidarity. It does exist, after all.

And then Babs wheeled herself closer, looking mildly amused. “And if you can get a return?”

keeping this as a reminder whenever i feel like my writing isn’t good enough