Wow

well everyday you learn something new 

How to Argue Like an Asshole

Good evening, friends, let me tell you some Secrets on how to argue like (and with) assholes. I’m writing this because I keep running into a particular asshole, and I need to stop engaging with them, and so this is an instruction sheet for myself as well as you guys. 

First, try to avoid assholes; they don’t deserve your time and energy. But, if an Argument is unavoidable, here are a few tips on how to emerge unscathed. 

Let go of the idea that you’re going to win. 

You’re not gonna win. Nobody wins in an argument with an asshole. But, on the other hand, you can make them lose. You can deprive them of their entertainment and their triumph. 

How??? 

Do not present your side of this debate. 

This is so counter-intuitive for most of us who believe in things like, oh, science, or real facts, or the idea that real facts can be determined by science. Here’s a cool terrible thing about humans: certainty has nothing to do with facts. And when people are certain, that is when they become assholes. 

When someone’s only goal is to win an argument, any real evidence or facts you give them is just ammunition for them to turn against you. 

You will not convince them. So what should you be doing? 

Destroy their arguments.

This is a thing of joy, because it’s what assholes are used to doing. They are, at heart, morons who don’t know how to construct, only how to destroy. 

I used to be super emotional about arguments like this. I couldn’t think of anything to say while the other person ranted on about their horrifying bigotry. Now I’m a lawyer, and I’ve learned to weaponize my essentially nitpicky nature. For money. 

So here are some easy tactics you can remember and deploy: 

- Make them define the words they use. Nitpick the definitions. 

- Turn questions back on them. If they ask you “why do you believe x”, ask them why they believe y. If they pull some “I asked first” shit, ask them why they’re afraid to defend their beliefs. 

- Call them emotional.  If possible, pick out specific emotions. This is especially devastating when you’re debating a man, as he will get more emotional as a result. 

- “Why is that funny? I don’t get it.” Making people explain mean jokes can be a delight; they just wilt the more you question them about the underlying assumptions. 

- Laugh at any especially dumb shit. Like they use some slogan or catchphrase that’s obviously untrue, due to science, or essentially ridiculous, like “we’ve made America great again,” and you just blurt out laughing. If they get mad, tell them – oh, so sorry, I’ll shut up, I’m giving you the floor to talk about your beliefs. I’m respecting you. This is a goddamn power move. It gives you the high ground, and also the implied control over the situation. The floor belongs to you, but you are yielding it to someone because you can. 

- If they make an awkward exit, let them. Especially if they call the discussion “political.” It means they’re feeling attacked. Graciously allow them to retreat with their tail between their legs. If they storm off, allow them to do that too. Congratulations; you’ve ended the argument and you don’t have to deal with it anymore. 

Basically: hand the asshole a shovel, and let ‘em dig. Relieve yourself of the burden to convince them they are wrong, and just sour their fun instead. 

–

Additionally, these are the tactics that assholes use, consciously or subconsciously, all the time. Recognize them. Once you know what they are, you can become immune to the intimidation and belittling tactics. 

Good luck. 

It perfect !! 😘

nightwing?? bitch i mightwing

Marinette: Iron Man’s Minion: Rising

Over 30 people sent me ask requesting a sequel. I usually don’t do sequels. Its messy and rarely as good as the first. Hoepfully, you like this.

           Tony just sighed at sight four kids and his robot picketing his workshop. Rhodey just looked overly pleased. The sun was had rose. He had just finished up for the day. Only to be met with… whatever the hell this was.

           Honestly, he hadn’t thought they were serious. At least he didn’t think Peter was serious. Peter was the sweet one; 90 percent of time, he followed Tony’s rules to the letter, never giving too much problems.

           …Harley, on the hand, liked to start shit.

Keep reading

Wow

Is it possible to be a fan of a fandom?

Powerpuff Girls was actually a show about a group of small children crushing the patriarchy and no one will convince me otherwise

the fight is harder each year.

what the fuck ethan

this is pure gold and i need more plis 

Another One?

Feel in love with this idea and want to thank @chocolate1721 for letting me write it :D

Hope you enjoy it <3

——

P.Taglist: @theatreandcomicfreak @damianette-is-life

Tags: @thestressmademedoit @purplejade24 @dreamykitty25 @mer-mel @maribat-is-lifeblood

——

Heads up: Lian makes an appearance :D

—–

“I’m being serious Bruce.” Tim said, rubbing his temples. “There’s a five-year old girl in the Batcave, right now, and I need to know where the hell you grabbed her from.”

“Tim,” Bruce softly said, placing his hands onto Tim’s shoulders. “When was the last time you took a break?” 

He sure didn’t take another child in. After all, he would’ve remembered signing adoption papers.

With a scoff, Tim pushed Bruce’s hands away from him.

“I’m not hallucinating.”

Tim knew he wasn’t. He literally spent a whole half hour speaking to this child, finding out that she had magically teleported specifically to the Batcave, landing on his lap. He learned that her name was Marinette and that she was from Paris. Pa-ris!

“Sure you weren’t.” Jason said with a roll of his eyes. “So the coffee fairy from last week was totally real, wasn’t it?” Tim groaned, pulling his hands down his face.

“Why don’t you take a nap, Tim.” Dick suggested, guiding Tim to the library. “I’ll take-”

Small heavy footsteps caused the four men to turn towards the direction they heard them, seeing a fuming Damian sport a scowl, something being held away from him in disgust.

“Why is this small child in the Batcave and why is she playing with Batcow?” Damian roared, stomping a bit as he made his way to Bruce, a five year old girl hanging from his hand.

“Damian! That’s no way to hold her!” Dick scolded, taking the small child from Damian, cradling her in his arms, realizing that Tim was right.

There was another child in the manor. 

“Father,” Damian snarled, Bruce taking a step back. “Did you take in another lion minion?” 

Did he? He never remembered bringing in another child, nonetheless this beautiful tiny child that could easily pass for another one of his- was this becoming a problem?

“Damian, there has to be-”

“What made you believe that you needed another one?” Jabbing a finger to himself, Damian continued. “I am better than all of your other minions combined. I am enough. You. Do. Not. Need. Another.” Damian emphasized, letting out a growl.

“Seems like someone feels threatened.” Jason grinned, watching Damian point his katana towards him.

“Am. Not.”

“Sure you aren’t.”

“Damian, katana down. Now.” Bruce said sternly, waiting for him to put the weapon down.

“Not until he puts that sentence back into his mouth.”

Bruce sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, watching as Jason kept taunting Damian, noticing that Tim was nowhere to be found and Dick was busy talking to the child, watching as her smile caused something to blossom inside of him.

He really hopes he did indeed adopt his ray of sunshine.

Walking past his bickering boys, who now are at each other’s throats, Bruce crouched down to the girl’s level, observing her features. He knew he said it once, but upon seeing her up close, Bruce really felt like he could easily pass this child as his newest addition to his family.

“Mari, this is Bruce. He’s my father, along with the other guys’ as well.” Dick introduced, Bruce noticing that Dick was speaking in French. 

“Hello Mari. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Bruce spoke, hoping his French was understandable. “Like my son Richard said, my name is Bruce. Bruce Wayne. What is yours?”

“Hello Monsieur.” Marinette spoke, fidgeting with the ends of her pigtail braids. “I’m Marinette.” Bruce watched as she frowned, lowering her head a bit. “I’m sorry about playing with your cow. I won’t do it again. It’s just that-”

“Don’t worry about it.” Bruce said, patting her head, feeling his mouth curve even more when she giggled. “You can play with her any time.” Bruce assured, ignoring Damian’s protest.

“So when did you adopt another child? Usually I would be the first one to know.” Alfred spoke up, Bruce wondering why everyone thought he actually adopted another child.

“She’s not,” a sigh. “I didn’t bring her. I didn’t know she was even in the manor. Tim had found her -not sure how- but he di-”

A growl interrupted Bruce’s explanation, the three adults turning to see a flushed Marinette.

“Why don’t we get something for Miss Marinette while we discuss how you-”

“I didn’t adopt another child Alfred.”

——

After munching on cookies and happily sipping milk, Marinette looked at everyone with sad eyes, pursing her lips.

“What’s wrong, Nettie?” Dick asked, Bruce thanking him for being the one to ask.

“I need to head home. Monsieur Fu is probably worried about me.”

“If that’s the case, allow me to take you-” Bruce started, stopping when Marinette shook her head. 

Did she not want him to drop her off? Did she prefer Dick or Alfred? Did she not like him? What did he do wrong?

“No thank you. I can go by myself.” With a grin and hopping off the kitchen counter, Marinette bowed. “Thank you very much for the cookies Grandpere Alfred.”

“Glad you enjoyed it.”

With that, Marinette walked out the kitchen, a bright light seeping through the cracks of the door before it disappeared, everyone blinking at her disappearance before returning to eating the leftover cookies.

“Wonder if she got home safely.” Dick murmured, wondering how a child of her age got hold of a magical item that allowed her to teleport herself back home.

Bruce could only ponder, knowing that if he tried to search for answers, he wouldn’t rest until he found one. Although, something told him that he shouldn’t, allowing him to push the magical factors of this encounter to the back of his mind.

He only hoped to see the child again…

—–

And they all did, exactly a week later.

The boys were busy teasing Dick as he prepared for his date with Starfire, leaving Bruce and Alfred in the library. Bruce was finishing up his latest paperwork when shrieks and screams came from down the hall.

Forgetting his papers, Bruce marched down to find out what was going on, his eyes widening at the scene before him.

Damian was hiding behind Tim, Tim holding a clothing hanger as a weapon while Jason was fumbling to put his gun away. Meanwhile, Dick was on the floor, his suit wrinkled and his hair was out of its desired style. There, in front of him was Mari, her tongue sticking out as she adjusted Dick’s tie. She placed her hands on her waist once she finished adjusting the tie.

“See? Told you your tie was crooked.” Marinette grinned, finally realizing that Bruce and Alfred were at the doorway. “Grandpere Alfred! M. Bruce!” Marinette made her way to the older men, hugging the two of them.

“Marinette. What are you doing here?” Bruce asked, picking up the child. She was as light as a feather and was thin as one as well… did she not eat properly?

“I came to visit!” Marinette proclaimed, throwing her hands into the air, the Waynes knowing that this was the first to many visits of the tiny fairy.

—–

“Did you have to bring Lian with you?” Jason asked, eyeing the five year old girl who was currently running around the shop, Roy not moving a muscle as he finished up some final touches on the passenger seat he was working on.

“Her nanny needed the day off and I didn’t feel like looking for another one so I brought her with me.” Roy reasoned. “Also, I did promise her that we would go get some ice cream after this.”

Jason shook his head, smiling that Roy would forever have a soft spot for his daughter.

Taking the finished seat, Jason screwed it on, Roy hopping onto the finished bike to test it out.

As Jason put away some of the tools, he heard a crash, turning to see Roy and the bike on its side, Lian standing in front of Roy.

“Roy! We just-”

“Did Richard have a child around the same time I found out about Lian?”

“What? No! No, he didn’t.” Jason provided. “Isn’t that Lian that’s-”

“Lian doesn’t have blue eyes, nor navy hair.”

“Jay-Jay, who’s that?” The child asked, pointing to Roy. Roy looked at the mysterious child and then at Jason.

“Pixie?” Jason ran up to Marinette, kneeling to her level. “What are you doing here?”

“I got bored at home so I came here!” Marinette said with a chirp, her pigtails bouncing in unison with her voice. “Let’s play!”

“Pixie, I can’t right now.” Jason looked at Roy, frowning when he saw him recording him and sporting a grin.

“Why not?” Oh shit. There were the magical eyes and tears that Jason couldn’t afford to say no to.

“I-” Jason watched as Lian came into view, the girl blinked when their eyes locked.. “Why don’t you play with Lian? Lian, come meet Marinette.”

As soon as the two saw each other, smiles blossomed onto the two girls, quickly chasing each other around the workshop before disappearing into the manor, their giggles echoing through the halls.

“So she’s your kid?” Roy asked, laughing when Jason elbowed him. 

“She’s my sister, you idiot.”

—–

Tim dragged his hands down his face, tilting his head back before facing forward again. 

Just a few more minutes and then it’s off to doing the next thing.

He needed to hurry up and finish this stupid workload before the deadline.

After this, maybe he can do a quick patrol around the city before dawn… or at least hoping before dawn… when was the last time he checked the clock?

Fishing for his phone, Tim struggled to make out the large numbers in front of him. Was it a 3 or was it a 4? He couldn’t tell, nor did he care. It was still early. He can make the deadline and the patrol… right?

Become the new CEO, Bruce said. It’s going to be worth it, he said.

Tim doesn’t even remember the last time he stepped out of WE or the manor that wasn’t work related.

Tim reached out for his mug of coffee, taking a sip. But instead of being welcomed by the aroma of freshly made instant coffee, he was hit by the smell of cinnamon, Tim looking down at his mug, realizing that it wasn’t the one he had a few minutes ago.

A tug was soon felt at the sleeve of his sweater, Tim looking to see if it was Titus, knowing that the dog would come to him for late night pats. However, he was met with doe blue eyes.

“Come.” She spoke, pulling at his sweater. 

“I need to finish this.” 

“Come.” With a sigh, Tim followed her, trying to grab his things, but she didn’t let him.

She continued to drag him until they got to her room, Tim wondering how long they even had this room in the manor. He didn’t remember them having another sibling, nonetheless a girl.

He was guided into the small bed, having to curl himself a bit to fit. A mistake he would greatly regret. 

He was now curled into a comfortable position, still feeling warm from the cinnamon tea and having a heavy blanket on top of him wasn’t helping. He didn’t know how -nor did he want to know how- but he soon drifted into sleep, vaguely remembering seeing the child also climb into bed, making sure Tim went to sleep.

Tim stirred, quickly sitting up when he felt pairs of eyes on him, grabbing a nearby book to throw, only to find everyone in the room, either grinning like madmen or sporting a smile.

“What?”

“You’re finally away Master Tim.”

“Finally?”

“It’s three in the afternoon.” Jason said, patting someone’s head, Tim noticing that it was the small child from last night. “Why are you looking at Pixie like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“You can see her?”

“What?”

Tim looked at everyone before placing a hand at his head.

“I thought she was just a hallucination.” Tim admitted.

“Tim, where have you been for the last two months?”

——

Everyone tried to catch up with each other as they made their way to their seats, Diana and Clark attempting to discuss their latest missions, Barry and Cyborg trying to talk about their latest interest, but everyone knew it was futile.

Rumors spread fast and everyone wanted to know the truth.

Did Batman really adopt another child? Did he have another ward?

Yes, they’ve seen the video that Roy sent everyone, but showing Jason softly speak to a girl that looked identical to Lian wasn’t going to cut it.

They wanted proof. Solid. Evidence.

Everyone went quiet when they saw Batman already seated, awaiting for everyone to join him.

“I thank you all for coming here.” Batman started, getting up from his seat, seeing that Aquaman and even Zatanna were able to make it. “I want to start with asking everyone to- what’s going on?”

Only two minutes into the meeting and he already lost everyone. As subtle as they tried to be, Batman could see various phones peeking over the meeting table.

“Say Batman,” Hal decided to start, using himself as tribute. “Already introducing your new ward to the business?”

Everyone watched as Batman stiffened, watching as he began to slightly panic, looking to his sides until he saw the person everyone else had seen, but him.

There stood Marinette, using his cape to try and hide herself. 

He quickly got up and took the child, guiding her to the farthest corner of the room, away from prying ears (all but Clark’s that is).

“Marinette, what are you doing here?” Bruce asked, taking her hands into his, being reminded how small she was.

“I went to the manor, but no one was home, not even Grandpere Alfred so I decided to join you.” Marinette said, rubbing her eyes as she let out a yawn.

“What time is it in Paris?”

“Last time I checked it was 19:00.” Marinette said, another yawn being let out.

“Past your bedtime.” Bruce stated, scooping up the child. “Go ahead and take a nap. I’ll wake you up when it’s time to go.” Marinette modded, resting her head against his shoulder. 

Batman continued the meeting without batting an eye, everyone wondering how he wasn’t getting tired from holding the little girl and where he even managed to find her. 

They couldn’t focus on the meeting, their eyes on the small child that drooled on Batman, her sudden smiles distracting them.

Where did he even find her?

Then again, this was Batman. If he wanted something, he made it his goal to get it. Even if it meant having a new ward that was the epitome of pureness. 

——-

Daiman frowned as he threw another stick for Titus to fetch, trying to push down his anger.

“Marinette this, Marinette that. Pixie Pop did this and Nettie did that!” Damian yelled, grabbing the stick Titus had brought back.

“Why are they so enthralled by that little lion minion?” Damian huffed, watching as Titus happily chased after the stick.

“She can’t do anything but lighten up the manor with her stupid giggles.” 

Ever since Dupain-Cheng barged into the manor, everyone has been baby-proofing the manor, Bruce and Jason making sure to tightly secure the locks to the weaponry and vehicles. Alfred always had cookies at the ready (though Damian didn’t mind) while Richard made sure to have more toys and coloring books stocked up whenever Marinette would drop in.

It didn’t help that whenever Damian would join his father to the Watch Tower that people deflated to see him there, hearing the whispers that asked when Marinette was coming back.

Attempting to forget about it all, and focus on Titus, Damian frowned upon seeing his beloved dog holding the one behind his annoyance.

Holding her by the collar of her shirt, Titus had brought his owner Marinette. She was in the garden by herself, so Titus thought he should bring her to Damian.

After all, two humans means more hands that would pet him and shower him for being a ‘good boy.’

“What are you doing here Dupain-Cheng?” Damian asked, telling Titus to drop her.

“I made a flower crown for you.” Marinette said, offering him the object, ignoring Damian’s question which caused him to snarl. 

“I don’t want your stupid crown.” Damian said through gritted teeth, throwing the crown to the floor, freezing when he saw tears slip down her face. 

“Why don’t you like me?” Marinette asked, looking at Damian with glazed eyes. 

Why didn’t he like her? 

No, he didn’t like her, but he also didn’t hate her.

He just found her annoying, a pest, just like the rest of his siblings.

Siblings…

Damian looked at the tiny girl, crouching to help her wipe her tears.

“It’s not that I don’t like you.” Damian admitted, grabbing her hand as he rose. “I’m just getting used to having another sibling.”

Another sibling. 

That’s why Damian was annoyed. 

He was no longer the new addition, she was.

She was the center of attention, just like he was when he had first come to the manor.

Now it was his turn to help her get adjusted to the manor, although it seems like she was already adjusted to their lifestyle. It was him who needed to change,

“So you don’t hate me?” Damian shook his head, watching Mari give him a small smile. “Then… are we friends?”

“No.” He said, quickly regretting it as he saw her smile drop. “We’re family.” Her smile returned, twice as big, a giggle even escaping her.

They were family now, whether he liked it or not. Whether she was directly adopted or not.

She was another Wayne, whether everyone liked it or not.

Damian, for one, didn’t mind. 

He had a sister now, someone to teach. Possibly his own student.

“Come now Mari, I think Alfred had made some cookies earlier.”

Another one who he can happily say was his family.

i need more of this !!!!

it soo good, it a masterpiece 

Mademoiselle Mari

Insp. by a comment on the Maribat Discord:

Buckle up, biches.

We’re gonna pull deep into DC canon for the French codename for female superheroes, Mademoiselle Marie, in use since the 18th century through the World Wars and probably beyond. Alfred Pennyworth worked closely with “Mademoiselle Marie” in the past.

In this universe, its expanded into a French government-sponsored training program, training little girls in espionage and assassinry since the Cold War. These program heads aren’t monsters; the girls still live with their families, still go to civilian school, they just occasionally “take trips to see distant relatives”.

Their parents are aware that their daughters are doing government work, and there’s a benefit package unlike any other available within the country. Salary is set aside in trust for “Marie” until she hits adulthood (precaution in case of shitty parents) and a stipend besides for her and her parents to use as they see fit. These girls get a full-ride “scholarship” to any accredited global university of their choice. Only the best of the best risk their lives for wet-work necessary for the good of France. These girls become unsung heroes of France, and they receive glowing recommendations when they decide to move on from the program.

Still, it’s not something the Dupein-Cheng family had thought of for their daughter, it’s not a well-known program after all. The handlers don’t have an eye on her until new mayor of Paris, freshly divorced, André Bourgeois brings the girl “bullying his little princess” to their attention. And that is how six-year-old Marinette Dupein-Cheng is brought into the program.

Now, Marinette, tiny little bi-racial girl, is competitive, and this program is something she enjoys, learning from adults and “older sisters” on how to tumble, dance, act, create, and make new friends– both in person with the other girls, and through letters to former agents and outside contacts. They craft a network based on previously established agency contacts and expand upon them as they move out in the world.

Marinette quickly becomes a star student, moving on to weapons training, and eventually becomes one of the first to graduate in her batch and she travels the world as pre-teen superspy “Mademoiselle Marie”. (Whose last name changes by assignment.)

This is how she meets Damian Al Ghul, prince of the League of Assassins for the first time, though he’s introduced to her as “independent contractor” Caracal. He clocks her as trained, and a threat right away, and takes his standard precautionary measure. He attempts to murder her.

Attempts, because Mari is just as trained as he is, if not as lethally inclined. He quickly finds himself pinned under her knee, knife to his throat. (Later, he insists that he was having an off day, helplessly grateful that he hadn’t succeeded.) But in the moment they agree to a truce and go their own way, Marie Simon to her “parents”, Caracal to the shadows from whence he came.

Naturally, the next time they meet they are “distant cousins” on a collaborative wetworks mission in Thessaly, against an uppity German drug lord, and his mad-scientist wife. The mission goes a bit sideways, took more luck than either will admit to pull it off, and they emerge from the aftermath, a grudging respect on both sides. Even if she’s too soft and he’s an arrogant andouille.

Through happenstance and circumstances, they run into each other enough, work together enough, to become friends. Friends, in this case, meaning “person I won’t stab on sight and/or who owes me a favor”. A rarity for Damian.

Marinette thinks otherwise; with friendships among those in her organization, and tentative friendships with some of the boys in école, she considers Caracal an Ally. A lonely sad boy, sure, but more a feral street cat then a friend. It takes more than a few meetings for Marinette to consider him a Ride-or-Die Friend.

Through the years, these two baby assassins grow into a friendship that withstands facing each other as enemies to reunite with no hard feelings at the next meeting between them. After all it’s Just Business, and they both know that well.

And then Hawkmoth.

Marinette can’t be Ladybug, “defender of Paris” when “Mademoiselle Marie” travels across the globe networking for her government and taking down European threats. Marinette reluctantly resigns from her position, and she takes up a red-spotted mantle.

Now the Mlle. Marie Organization aren’t idiots. Marinette Dupein-Cheng retires with accolades, offered a permanent place whenever she finishes her “hiatus”. And if the Parisian Police are instructed from on high to look the other way for Ladybug? Well, it’s best to leave superhero business to superheroes.

People in the organization are Carefully Not Thinking About It.

Completely coincidentally, therapy and healthy coping mechanisms are now mandatory for all operatives working within Paris and the surrounding areas.

That said, she still has to tell her assassin that she’s retiring.

Damian does not take it well.

Not like murder not well.

Like communication blackout and regime change in Peru not well.

Damian gives her the silent treatment. After all, she’s Out. (She abandoned him.)

Little does he know, his mother is working to get him out as well.

Marinette, meanwhile is Not Happy that Mothman Barbie decided to take out his issues on her home turf. The Mlle. Marie project is supposed to be foreign support, and last line of defense. So I mean it’s in her wheelhouse. She just enjoyed her job as a globetrotting pre-teen superspy.

She doesn’t want to be chained down to the homefront, not when there’s so much inspiration out there! Putting all that on hold for Mothman Barbie in Paris, eating into her free time, sleep, and drastically cutting into her social life? Bitch.

Civilian life makes her itch now, stuck in one place with confusing, mandatory, rules. Fictional barriers and preteen posturing, and only one hidden knife? Being Marinette is Suffering™. New friend Alya and pretty-boy Adrien can only relieve it so much.

Yes she has a bit of a crush. He’s pretty and a model. Shut up.

Tikki is pleased she’s got another loyal warrior, a second coming of Jeanne d'Arc, though she wishes Marinette was kinder. That’s something she learns while dealing with Mothman Barbie. Not just how to act kind, to prevent akumas. But how to genuinely be kind. How to unlock the empathy she’d learned to tune out years ago, and how to act altruistically.

During her collège years Marinette juggles the life of a teen superhero, making friends with her class sincerely for the first time in years, something she didn’t get the chance to do with her frequent trips. Beyond Nino and Kim that is.

When Lila comes she deems her as annoying, but not worth her time. Until she’s the one turning her friends into akumas, with broken promises and lies that damage reputations. Marinette has a set future, as long as she keeps to the laws of this land and doesn’t slaughter a bitch. Lila can’t do anything to her. But if she hurts any of her friends, Lila is getting a horse head in her bed, American cliché or not.

Thankfully her crush on Adrien dies a silent death during this time. She can’t see herself with someone who won’t stand up for himself, nor with someone who enables a pathological liar that is one move away from harming the rest of her friends. She’s unspeakably grateful for that when Mothman Barbie is revealed to be his absentee father and Mayura to be the closest thing he has to a living mother. She’s able to focus her attention on his mental state and not how stupidly pretty he is.

Adrien is cemented as her best friend and platonic life partner in a catsuit. Adrien, once he got over his crush on the “idol” Ladybug, is happy to treat her the same. He’s just glad that his Lady won’t leave him for what his family had done.

Despite Mari’s wishes, Ladybug can’t retire just yet. People come out of the woodwork to fill in the vacuum left behind from the fashion-blind terrorist that held Paris in fear for three years. Ladybug is a celebrity, and Paris would be left uneasy if the city’s heroes left them undefended. She trains to be a guardian with Master Fu, to find more permanent Miraculous holders to take up the defense of Paris, and later the world. She finally has the free time to devote to her fashion commissions and to pick up the occasional job with her old organization.

It’s mid-way through lycée that Jagged invites her as his plus one to a charity gala in the United States. As his designer, and as an inconspicuous bodyguard that has combat training (far more than he knows), Marinette is the best choice when Penny is on leave. It gives his favorite niece the chance to network with American big shots, and get her brand noticed by more than just a few fashion moguls in Paris.

Which leads us to today. Marinette Dupein-Cheng– agent on leave, teenage superhero, aspiring designer, and temporary bodyguard of her surrogate uncle– spots a very familiar profile across the room.

Her assassin, dressed to kill, possibly literally. And she resigns herself to once more being on the opposite side of the boy who cut her out of his life, and any attempts to get in touch with him.

She’s dressed in a MDC original (with more hidden knives on her person than people would think), as she goes through the familiar song-and-dance and slips into the mindset of Mademoiselle Marie.

Stolen glances across the room. How have they been? Will they talk to me again even if I left/left her in silence?

Both are on edge. They are professionals and an unexpected meeting won’t prevent them from keeping their loved ones charges safe.

It’s like they never left the business, the two of them. They don’t know each other. I’ve never seen them before. They can’t have been the murderer because I saw them head to the bathroom. Just don’t. touch. what’s. Mine.

They’re Friends after all.

Thankfully nothing happens at the party.

Damian Wayne saw her. How could he have ignored her, magnetic as she ever was. His eyes periodically drawn to her, partly assessment, partly admiration. When nothing happens at the gala, he figures that she’s changed as much as he has. And Damian has changed. He’s softer and he knows it. He’s been Out almost as long as she has, and in trying to hold to his father’s standards, he doesn’t think he could slip into the mindset of the ruthless prince of assassins so easily any more.

The silence and loss of his first friend on the other hand, was a wound that lingered even as he learned of civilian friendships and built connections with other superheroes around his age. This was a chance to introduce himself to his oldest friend. Without business between them this time.

It’s Damian that does the signal.

Mari trips and giggles at the end of the night over to her assassin. It’s easy after years of “Clumsy Marinette can’t possibly be Ladybug!” She plays up the petite harmless French girl.

“Mon Caracal!” She calls from 3 feet away, stumbling into his arms.

She hugs him, compartmentalizing the muscled form that holds her safely, knowing he can kill her if she plays this wrong.Not without a fight though.

She hugs him more surely, kissing both his cheeks the way neither of them would be allowed outside of acting. “It’s been far too long!”

She pulls away to see him gazing down at her, and wow someone has given him acting lessons because he smiles soft, fond, and far more real than he ever had Before.

“Marie.”

She boops him on the nose. “Marinette.” She teases coyly. She can’t tell him her last name. For the safety of her parents, but also to keep cover as close friends.

“Marinette.” He nods, crooked smile on his face, and away from prying eyes there’s the signal that he’ll keep his mouth shut about her name.

Speaking of prying eyes… “Marinette!” Uncle Jagged calls, making his way over to the pair of them. Her assassin is surprised, though few would be able to tell, at the world-famous rockstar approaching them.

“Uncle Jagged!” She answers, facing him but keeping a hand on the muscled arm of her friend to keep him from attacking, just in case.

She plays up the accent. Just a rockstar with his very French™ niece and her boy toy, nothing to see here!

“Jagged,” she says again looking up at her uncle, “this is my good friend–”

“Damian” her assassin, starstruck or not, can follow his cue.

Between them is the subtle flash of information-true-hidden as she speaks over it to distract Jagged. “–Damian, my caracal.”

Jagged bristles a little, baring his teeth in what those who don’t know him would call a toothy grin, rather than a threat.

“And is Damian rock-and-roll enough for my favorite designer, M?”

“He’s very kind,” she confides with a Marinette-sweet smile. In his own way. she finishes the thought ruefully. A small part of her brain is cackling hysterically.

Jagged relaxes, and drags the both of them forward, holding a polaroid out to snap a picture of the three of them. (“Very Rock-and-Roll!” Jagged had said three months earlier.) He shakes the picture to development, and autographs it with a flourish, before stuffing it into Damian’s hands.

“Well any friend of Marinette’s is a friend of mine! And M? Car leaves in 10.” He smiles, patting them both on the shoulder before sauntering off.

“I.” Damian tries. He sighs.

“Jagged Stone? Jagged? Really Marie?” Damian asks, slipping once more into the familiar nickname. Marinette decided to let it slide, Jagged had that effect on a lot of people.

Marinette shrugs helplessly, before fishing a pen and spare notepad for her to jot down her contact information. It had only been a night but that familiar rush and heady friendship was something that Mari didn’t want to lose if she could help it. She placed the paper with the photograph, putting the lethal pen back in her clutch, and cupping his face in both hands.

“Keep in touch this time? Please mon caracal?” If her begging was a little more heartfelt, well she’d learned a few things too. She kissed his cheek one final time and stepped away.

A hand caught her wrist.

“It hasn’t been the same without you, Marinette.” Damian said, hand slipping into hers, thumb gently brushing the back of it. He lifted her hand and kissed the air above her knuckles, before stepping away and towards the exit.

I must not swoon. I must not swoon. I must not swoon. Marinette chanted internally as she left to find Jagged, already looking forward to turning a Friendship into something more honest. More real.

-Meanwhile, In The Lobby-

“What was that, baby bird?” Dick asked his youngest brother.

“An old friend.” Damian answered tersely, pointedly ignoring the curious stare from his Father and the more obnoxious kissy noises from Todd.

“Hell of an old friend.” Tim commented, sounding almost put out, probably because of the unexpected personal introduction to Jagged Stone and autograph Damien had received. “You let her get close.”

Damian raised an eyebrow at Tim.

Tim rolled his eyes, “PDA close!” he expounded like that explained anything.

Dick must have sensed his confusion, “ You attempted to judo-flip Kor'i when you first met her. And you let this tiny girl hug you and kiss your cheeks.”

Damian scowled, “I’m not that bad!”

“You bit me last week when I went to ruffle your hair!” Jason said, tugging his suit sleeve back to reveal light scarring.

“And?” Damian said, very done with the conversation already.

“We just wanted to know how long you’ve been pining for her, baby bird.” Dick teased.

Damian felt a betraying heat creep up the back of his neck, to his ears and cheeks. “It’s not like that!” He hissed.

“I-” he paused, wondering how he could explain the beautiful, cunning girl who knew of his past, was honestly the best part of it, and how she had watched his back, kept him safe and sane, had killed people on his tail even, without making them regard her as a threat.

His grandfather would have made her an example. Vivisected, drawn and quartered for daring to get close to his perfect weapon.

“I’ve known her for years. We’re Friends, and that means I’ll allow her more than I would you, Todd.”

He stalked forward, as his father called behind him, “You should introduce us when you feel comfortable, Damian.”

He stopped, listening but not daring to turn around.

“After all,” Damian could hear the grin in his father’s voice, “It’ll be nice to meet my future daughter-in-law!”

Screw the Joker, Batman ends right here, right now.