Hey Google What The Fuck Was That

Dick being zen and jason being jason:

Tips for writing those gala scenes, from someone who goes to them occasionally:

Generally you unbutton and re-button a suit coat when you sit down and stand up.

You’re supposed to hold wine or champagne glasses by the stem to avoid warming up the liquid inside. A character out of their depth might hold the glass around the sides instead.

When rich/important people forget your name and they’re drunk, they usually just tell you that they don’t remember or completely skip over any opportunity to use your name so they don’t look silly.

A good way to indicate you don’t want to shake someone’s hand at an event is to hold a drink in your right hand (and if you’re a woman, a purse in the other so you definitely can’t shift the glass to another hand and then shake)

Americans who still kiss cheeks as a welcome generally don’t press lips to cheeks, it’s more of a touch of cheek to cheek or even a hover (these days, mostly to avoid smudging a woman’s makeup)

The distinctions between dress codes (black tie, cocktail, etc) are very intricate but obvious to those who know how to look. If you wear a short skirt to a black tie event for example, people would clock that instantly even if the dress itself was very formal. Same thing goes for certain articles of men’s clothing.

Open bars / cash bars at events usually carry limited options. They’re meant to serve lots of people very quickly, so nobody is getting a cosmo or a Manhattan etc.

Members of the press generally aren’t allowed to freely circulate at nicer galas/events without a very good reason. When they do, they need to identify themselves before talking with someone.

Scenario: Marinette is kidnapped for some reason or another and is taken to the business the kidnappers use as a front; that just so happens to be a restaurant:

Kidnapper: you’re out numbered and there is nothing you can do about it!

Marinette, no miraculous and armed with only a meat tenderizer and egg beater: I’m about to prove this bitch wrong.

"The baker girl".

This is how people like Chloé or Gabriel have been referring to Marinette in a mean and mocking way throughout the seasons, as if this was something she should be ashamed of.

The fact that her Lucky Charm turned out to be a baker's peel and she used it to beat the crap out of Monarch is so symbolic and powerful.

MARIBAT ARROW APRIL 2023

April is dedicated to the ARROWS. This can be any member of the Green Arrow/Arrowverse extended family.

Roynette Shippers This Is Your Month!

Got an even rarer pair? Those work too!

It can also be BioFam!

Do one prompt! Do them all! Any participation is great! They just serve as ways to encourage that creativity. No Pressure.

This year we are adding an extra prompt weeks for the most popular arrow ship: Roynette! Like with the calendar, only write those prompts which inspire you. You don't have to do them all, and you don't have to do both (though, extra kudos to anyone who tries).

AO3 COLLECTION:

This is the same collection from last year, with a new tag, so if you are looking for last year's this is it now.

TAGS FOR BOTH TUMBLR AND AO3: 

#Arrow April #Arrow April 2023

BE SURE TO TAG THIS BLOG @MARIBAT-CALENDAR-EVENTS AND REBLOG SO OTHERS GET A CHANCE TO SEE TOO!

Guidelines

Any orientation or relationship style is welcome and encouraged (familial, platonic, romantic, aged-up NSFW)!

Any creative works (writing, fics, drabbles, head-canons, art, poetry, incorrect quotes, etc.) are accepted

Tag @maribat-calendar-events in your works so we can share it

Use the hashtag so others can see your work

Keep NSFW works under the ‘Keep Reading’ line with an appropriate warning above

Questions? Send us a message/ask, or contact @izanae

Get creative and have fun! We all look forward to your participation and submissions!

okay something I was thinking about yesterday was how Tomoe clearly wants Kagami and Adrien to be together because of status, right? Adrien is an adequate match for Kagami in terms of wealth and upraising?

I simply think it would be really funny if Kagami chose to date Felix instead and Tomoe couldn't even be mad because Felix is, if anything, more adequate than Adrien - more money, more status, he's even lined up for lordship in Britain. And he's a gentleman, too - he only does what is expected of him socially.

And she hates him so much but there's nothing she can do, no argument she can make, because he's - on every tangible level - perfect, just really really fucking annoying.

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

Harmonies of the Multiverse

THEME

When Jupiter collides with autumn, a single moment is born between two entities. Equal harmonies with balance, dancing along a fine line of too far and too near, of brightest and dimmest, of perfect alignment. People say that on an equinox, the sky divides into two parts, golden light and silver darkness.

For Damian Wayne, it meant heading to the rooftop instead of sleeping peacefully in his bed, staring at the sky, but not seeing anything. His eyes would remain blank as they stared up at the twinkling stars almost covered by the rancid smog. He learned at too young of an age that life was not about myths and fairytales, but of monsters in the form of flesh and bone which held their smiles on their face and their daggers in your back.

The equinox meant facing the demons of his past.

He always knew he was never the best person. He wouldn't ever be as selfless as Dick, he wouldn't be as level-headed as Tim, or even as passionate as Jason. He wouldn't have his father's ingrained need to help the dying cesspool they lived in, and he would never have Alfred's heaven-bound level of patience. There would always be that selfish, rash, cold-hearted, narcissistic, impatient prince lying inside of him, waiting to rear its foul head. It surfaced every second he held a blade in his hand, at every mob member terrorizing innocents and criminals alike, every abuser, every villain. A voice inside him purred to rid the world of their filth, of their moral grime. And every single time, it grew louder and louder and louder and louder.

Each time a criminal escaped through his grasp was another chip in his fortitude.

Each time an innocent civilian broke a smile at him, only to die minutes later from an explosion was a stab in the wall between morally good and vengeance.

For every stabbing heart, for every gutless cry of a mother who lost their child.

Wouldn't it be so much easier to erase them before they could commit such barbarisms?

The cold kissed his cheeks, so much like a viper's poison, and he shook his head, banishing the thought from his mind. Ah, she's still inside my head.

Maybe symphonies are built on a beautiful melody. However, the melody would never work if they worked on different concepts. The one his father blasted into his mind was a righteous march, darker in tone than most melodies, but an overarching victory for Good reigned. It taught him patience, morals, ethics, light against darkness.

But, his mother taught him the cellist's devil nature. The darker tones, the echoing, vibrating puppet master giving the audience the illusion that the melody is in control, but in reality, all the melody can do is fall victim to the villainous, tragic whirlpool of misery, murder, and fascist brutality. She placed the blade in his hand, had him earn her love through feats of glorious atrocities, built him up from the ground up into the perfect weapon, too jagged and unpredictable to be used for Good, but whittled down, rusted and corrupted for far too long to be remolded into something useful.

Now, he didn't know where he belonged. Did his melody rise above the dark cello nurtured in him? Or will the melody drown under the alluring, tempest bass driven through his heart, buried deeper than the center of the Earth?

The wind, maybe sensing his demise, could do nothing but blow harder to calm his feverish head filled with questions he could not answer. The somber cold stung the sweet chapped lips all too used to the desert's ice and fire of his childhood, but it stung more bitterly as the North Atlantic ocean blew in the new change in season. Gotham was an outlier. A ghost town of improbabilities and plausibility all clashed together to create a cesspool of madness, hate, and impossibilities.

He wondered why his father, or his ancestors before him, would ever want to stay in a city like this for the rest of their rich, detached lives. Why they would ever choose to spend their lives in this miserable landfill, giving what they have to make the ever-draining city a better place. Why they gaze at the buildings and streets with fond gazes. Why they find it so easy to smile at a Gotham native without feeling like they will get a knife's edge poking their sternum the moment they show their backs.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he cursed God that he was not given this ingrained sense of belonging and mercy to Gotham like all of his family before him.

Pages rustled on in the breeze, and, by miraculous luck, the cover tipped open. Blue light shone through the darkness beyond his closed eyelids, but he did not notice beyond the salty river squeezing through the crevice.

"S'il te plaît, ne me dis pas que tu pleures." Please, don't tell me you're crying. Soft French carried over the quiet din. "I never know what to do when you are crying."

He pried his eyes open, and a vision filled his eyes. A girl, no older than he was, but with a more youthful smile cracked in sorrow, dressed in a midnight blue evening gown glowing in the darkness, blowing in the wind to its own rhythm as it reflected the stars ten times brighter than Gotham Fair's lights. She floated over the torn book of ancient Tibetan magic he brought with him that night, just like he did every solstice, her legs crossed underneath her in an informal squat. Cheeks blossomed like dusky luminescent wisteria, and constellations made of stars brighter than Rigel lost across the bridge of her nose. Her blue crown of hair burned a halo around her, framing bluebell eyes that looked older than a thousand of his lifetimes staring deep into his own green eyes.

The only word he could say was, "Marinette."

Her grin made his heart's symphony subito pianissimo. "Hi, Damian. Happy Autumn Solstice."

================

not me wanting to make this a full fic ;v; (hence the chapter title "theme")

for @jumpingjoy82 for the maribat gift exchange 2022 (i posted on time on archive, just not on tumblr ;v;)

Jason: 'You'll never find the body' is such a boring threat. A better threat would be; 'You'll never stop finding the body.'

Tim, bored: Or just say, 'They'll be finding parts of you for at least four months...and you'll still be alive for three of them.'

Jason: Now that's a threat!

Dick, covering Damians ears: *horrified silence*

Maribat AU where Robin gets kidnapped and ends up getting free about a week later but is In Paris doing a akuma attack and thinks the whole thing is a drunk induced dream.

This means that Robin is just going abselutly creazy and fighting and jumping of buildings and acting as if nothing can hurt him as he thinks it’s a dream.

And then we have ladybug who finds this hero on her home turf, acting absolutely crazy and kicking ass while doing it.

And bc Robin doesn’t think this is real anyway her flirts with her the whole time, but in a fun way.

This goes on for a while (it’s a long battle and Chat is nowhere to find (Adrian got killed early in the attack) (the miraculous cure will bring him back Don’t worry)) and then at one point robin does get hurt, and finally realize that like, shit this is not a dream.

And ladybug is like, I freaking wish it was a dream dude I have to fight this shit every second day.

Anyway, they have a angsts conversation and ladybug comes with a absolutely crazy battle plan that just leaves robin sitting there like??? I have had military levels strategy classes since I was 10 how tf did you make this plan?? And ladybug is like, it’s gonna work, trust me. And robin is like, bet.

(They do actually bet a date )

No surprise for anyone but robin, ladybugs plan works. And they win the battle and all is great + they have a icecream date at the lovers icecream place thingy.

( + a scene where Robin is like??? Why are shops still open y’all were just attacked, and ladybug is like, we do this everyday & we don’t have enough fucks left to give about this butterfly furry to shut down the stores everytime)

And then Robin has to go home and Ladybug gives him a lift with the butterfly miraculous.

(Droppes him of at the manor going “I found your birdy” and then winks at Robin and hearts away. That batfam is just there like???? The fucj just happened also are you okay?)

And then after that robin and Ladybug keep in contact over comes and do date night in each other’s city’s for a few months before something really dumb reveals their identities.

Arguing about who is Damian's favorite brother

Jason: Dickhead doesn't count! He's basically the brat's second dad!

Damian: Actually I already have a method in place to determine which one of you wastes of space is my favorite if I'm asked.

Jason: Oh? Don't keep us in suspense then.

Damian: It's simple really. Whoever has the highest kill count at the time is my alleged favorite.

Jason: HA! Suck it losers!

Dick: No fair! I killed the Joker!

Jason: What?

Damian: And while I would normally count that as at least 10, since Father revived him-

Jason: WHAT!?

Damian: Todd, we cannot stop to explain all of the family drama everytime you find yourself out of the loop. You will simply have to unblock us and rejoin the group chat.

Tim: Yeah Jason, get your family updates like the rest of us

Damian: As I was saying, since the Joker isn't dead despite your best efforts, I've decided that your count is at 5.

Jason: So I'm your favorite?

Damian: No. Your confirmed kills are between 20-40. Unfortunately, Drake is my favorite since his confirmed kill count is in the low hundreds.

Dick: I'm sorry. Can someone please explain how my Baby Bird has a kill count at all

Tim, trying to escape through the vents: YOU SWORE NOT TO TELL ASSHOLE!!!

Damian: You swore that you didn't touch my Taj Mahal Lego set. I guess we're both liars