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i-smoke-chapstick · 9 months ago

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Request: I'm already back for more. As l've already told you I love your interpretation of a reader with dwarfism and since you are okay with me requesting more, can I get multiple headcanons of Gotham!Rogues x Dwarf!reader with just either simply day to day headcanons or their first reaction to meeting/seeing them? Rogues including jervis(obv Imao), Jerome, Oswald, Victor fries, Zsasz, and ra's al ghul!

The plot can be the reader being similar to the Cheshire Cat or Nightcrawler when it comes to teleportation powers. They're friends with Barbara, Selina, and Tabitha. The rogues always see photos on them on the news, newspapers, and sometimes in person but if they even get caught staring, reader teleports themself and whoever they're with away, so they don't really get a chance to talk or know them.

Like last time, only write this if you're okay with it and I'll understand if you can't or just don't want too!

Thank you tons again! - anon

‘VOULEZ-VOUS,

-GOTHAM VILLIANS X READER-

⋆ Characters ↬ Jervis Tetch, Jerome Valeska, Oswald Cobblepot, Victor Fries, Victor Zsasz, Ra's Al Ghul

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; gotham villians with a cheshire cat!reader who has dwarfism!

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!villains x female reader. FLUFF! I love readers power SOSOSOSO much! Super creative <3 Also villians being whipped for reader just cuz they can. Protective Tabitha. REALLY protective Oswald. Jerome's a bit insensitive. Victor Zsasz is not immune to a pretty girls smile. Have never written for Victor Fries or Ra's, so fingers crossed their parts aren’t too bad! Ra’s and Fries parts got a little angsty

𝐽𝐸𝑅𝑉𝐼𝑆 𝑇𝐸𝑇𝐶𝐻

♫ “Across the room, your eyes are glowin' in the dark." Voulez-Vous by ABBA

Oh, the man is completely enthralled with you. How could he not be? You're the missing piece to his wonderland puzzle.

Similarly to Alice, he believes your powers go hand and hand with each other. He rules the mind, while you have complete control of your body. His first thought when he see's you in the newspaper is simple.

He must have you.

He will do anything it takes to track you down. He finds himself becoming more and more entranced with the prospect of you working with him, partners in crime, connected body and soul. Of course those feelings of admiration become obsession.

Before you know it, the man is going lengths to find you; just like how he was with Alice. Hiring Jim Gordon as a bounty hunter? Mayhaps...

When he finally finds you at the siren's club, he can't help but be in awe. You're so small, so fragile, so unique. He wants to kiss your flattened cheekbones that look like pure porcelain. Your his doll.

"My dear, Y/N!" He's calling when he finds you, his teeth spread into a wide grin. He finds your eyes quickly turning to meet his gaze, glowing underneath the club's light. His shadow towers over you.

"You look ravishing, I must admi-" He goes to speak, just before you disappear from thin air. His mouth is open for a few moments, eyebrows scrunched.

Where did his precious little Cheshire Cat go?

Oh yeah, he's pouting. He's never been a fan of the disappearing act. But he doesn't mind. He's determined. He's played this game with Alice for far too long, he will not take no for an answer.

You'll find notes, gifts, flowers, dresses tailored to your sizing. All perfectly crafted from Gotham's most professional hypnotized seamstresses or florists.

Barbara is smirking when she finds the gifts, cackling about how sweet small little Y/N has a loony admirer. Tabitha's less than pleased, throwing out any bouquet she finds before you see them. Selina agrees, the guy's a freak.

It's up to you if you want to give him a chance <3 He would be the most devoted lover and partner if you decided too...if not a bit overly infatuated.

𝐽𝐸𝑅𝛰𝑀𝐸 𝑉𝐴𝐿𝐸𝑆𝐾𝐴

♫ “Nothing promised, no regrets." Voulez-Vous by ABBA

Uh oh! Murderous clown on the loose, and he's also 100% fixated, just like a certain hatter.

Jerome brushes you off at first, don't get him wrong, he adores your work on the city. Nothing he loves more than seeing some horribles destroy Gotham! He's a fan, if you could call him that.

It takes him some time to warm up to the idea of being whipped. But once he is, you have him wrapped around your pretty little finger.

Similar to Jervis- he can't help himself. You're powerful. You're strange. You're a freak just like him and the rest of these bad boys in Gotham! You remind him of the circus, all different shapes and sizes of people around him. You belong with him. By his side. On his side. Maybe sitting in his lap... What?

Yeah, he's not sure where that came from either. But hey, he's not complaining! He likes to think he's a bachelor, a young beau waiting for his turn in the love game! Before he knows it, he's slicking his hair back, putting on his finest and most colorful suits, and making sure his face is stapled all the way. Then he's getting his cult to crash the Siren's club. Moment of silence for Tabitha who will have to clean it up after.

The place is a shit show, people in makeup dancing wildly and giggling manically. Tabitha, Barbra, Selina and you get tied up in the confusion. It's hard to fight back against a bunch of crazies when your expensive alcohol is being thrown at walls, and you four are simultaneously tied up together in one big rope. Barbra's throwing a bit of a hissy fit.

Everyone is quiet when Jerome enters, dressed to the nines, with a loud and boisterous,

"Hey gorgeous! I'm sure you've heard of me," He speaks, bending down to your level, invading your personal space. He goes to continue, until the four of you evaporate before him. Teleported away. He's left staring at the loose ropes, smile unchanged- but eyes widened in surprise.

Oh. Okay. So that's how it's gonna be. Alright.

Jerome loves a game of cat and mouse.

He craves attention. He loves the center stage, and he will not be ignored. No no no no.

He will not leave your club alone until you confront him. Yeah, sorry Babs and Tabs. Barbara will start urging you to just "sleep with the damn clown!" while Tabitha is trying desperately to not have you anywhere near that creep.

But the club isn't all he'll do, doll! No, he'll get his cult to do more and more mass murders and sprees across the city, each one broadcasted on live television. Each time, he looks into the camera, blood on his face, professing his undying love.

"This is for you, Y/N!" He's showcasing the violence around, "Call me!" He gestures, ending the broadcast abruptly.

Well, kind of hard to ignore a man when your club is in shambles, Barbara is going batshit insane, AND you have Jim Gordon trying to find you; just in order to stop these massacres around the city in your honor.

Once again, you should give the man a chance! He doesn't think he'd make a horrible boyfriend, y'know, if you're into gingers.

𝛰𝑆𝑊𝐴𝐿𝐷 𝐶𝛰𝐵𝐵𝐿𝐸𝑃𝛰𝑇

♫ “Take it now or leave it." Voulez-Vous by ABBA

Ozzie's a bit harder to gauge, because I don't think he'd become infatuated with someone unless he got to meet them first. So for arguments sake, we are just going to say you two have meet previously on many occasions! Specifically when he's had some bad blood with Barbara and Tabitha.

At first, he detests you. He thinks you're a nuisance, and a powerful tool for the Siren's. You can escape from ANYONES grasp, and take them with you. His nose is scrunching up every time he thinks of just how he can get rid of you.

Well, if he can't get rid of you, he's well versed in manipulation. Perhaps he can convince you to join his team.

You're going about your day at the club, tending bar on a step stool, the usual. Oswald comes in, Victor trailing behind him. Tabitha and Barbara are instantly on alert.

"Hello." Oswald fixes his suit jacket, rolling his cane in his fingertips. He wears a faux smile, and Tabitha huffs.

"What can we help you with, Ozzie?" Barbara is smiling, just as fake as his. It's a weird Gotham crime boss stand-off.

"I was wondering if you, my dear," He speaks, suddenly nodding down to you, "Would like to accompany me for lunch tomorrow."

Yeah, everyone's jaws drop, including Oswald's at the silence. Oswald didn't necessarily intend for it to sound like he was trying to ask you on a date. He's flushing red under everyone's gaze, suddenly fidgeting. If you look closely, Victor's giving a lazy amused smirk in the back.

"Like hell-" Tabitha's about to answer for you, before you squint at the man.

"Sure." You scan him up and down, hesitantly. Before anyone has a chance to speak, Oswald's turning on his heel.

"Wonderful! 2:00 sharp. Don't be late." He's smiling, knowing he's got a one-up on the Siren's.

...Well, leave it Oz to have things never work out quite his way. One lunch turns into two, and two turns into three. He's forcing himself to remember why he's doing this; you are just a tool. This is all a charade!

Hard to focus though, when you two seem to enjoy one another's company. Like when you show him what it feels like to teleport, (He's closing his eyes in fear, only for it to feel like nothing.) Or when you two have a strangely intimate discussion about what it was like growing up not very normal.

He's opening up about his schoolyard bullies, about his mother. About the feeling of being taunted, teased for his nose or height. You tell him, you know the feeling.

He stares at you, eyes focused solely on you. He's enamored.

He turns viciously protective over you. Any snide comment made towards you by a henchman of his, or a frequent at the Siren's club, they are brutally stabbed to death, a bit impulsively, with a bottle shard.

When he realizes he's falling in love with you, similar to Jervis, he likes doing grand gestures to get your attention. If there's anything you desire, you'll get it. Which is why when he finds out you're avoiding him, he becomes sour.

What? Why are you leaving him? He doesn't understand. The intimacies you two have shared, did they mean nothing to you? He's hurt, he's angry, he's aggressive. He's more irritable than usual; and judging from the fact he's irritable ALL the time, it's pretty bad. If you don't explain yourself, this sadness will probably turn into anger. He already believes you two have some weird pseudo-romantic relationship, so he's taking this like a break-up. He's a vengeful ex.

Whenever he stops by the Siren's club, and sees you teleport away at the sight of him, it stings. It all comes to a head when he's breaking down in his mansion. You will have to be the one to confront him, because he'll be too busy sulking. He loves you. He doesn't want to make you uncomfortable. If you don't want to talk to him, he won't force you, even if he's going crazy trying to figure out why.

When he sees you, he's standing up in a hurry, fumbling over his words, sniffling. His blue-green eyes are puffy, and you'll have to sigh and talk to him.

Please, tell him why your avoiding him. Explain if you're insecure, if you're scared of loving. He'll be thankful for the explanation. He'll be angry on your behalf for anyone who made you believe you were unloved, whether for your dwarfism or your powers. He's promising to kill for you, tear down the city to avenge you.

"Okay, Oz, I'm not dead yet."

"Yet?!"

Cuties <3

𝑉𝐼𝐶𝑇𝛰𝑅 𝐹𝑅𝐼𝐸𝑆

♫ “Now is all we get." Voulez-Vous by ABBA

Forgive him, he’s trying his hardest not to care, and failing miserably.

Similarly to Ozzie, I can’t see him becoming infatuated or obsessed like Jerome and Jervis so quickly, not since what happened with Nora. So, I’m imagining you’ve also met him once or twice; using your powers for the sirens, just like he and firefly have done some hitjobs for you four in the past.

He’s in love with the idea of having a family; of being accepted, of leaving this life behind. It’s made him bitter, cold; but the man will do anything for love. Anything.

And it’s hard not to notice the small woman running around on her toes in the club, parts of her body vanishing here and there. You’re gorgeous to him. Those small cheshire-like smiles you send him when he’s supposed to be working. They break his hard exterior. He doesn’t know if he loves or hates it. He loves it.

Even a small pit of jealousy fills him, whenever he sees you in the news. Or when he watches silently on the sidelines, while you talk with Barbara and Tabitha and Selina. You do it so effortlessly. How could anyone not be entranced by you?

He thinks that he’s a freak. Firefly’s a freak. Just like Jerome and Oz, he definitely finds solace in the idea you are just like him. You’re one of them; a freak. Pushed out by Gotham’s careless inhabitants, forced into this life. He remembers being driven out of town by Penguins army. He wonders if you’ve expirenced the same treatment at one point in your life. He wants to show you, he’s here for you. He loves you, every part of you. No matter how unconvential or mistreated. He just wants to take care of you.

Just like Oz, he’ll be ready to kill anyone for you. Freeze em’ to death in one single sweep. Just give him the go ahead.

Victor is terrified of hurting you, as well. Not only your tiny stature, but he’s sure he’d get ice burns from his fingertips. He imagines a life where it’s just the two of you, without the cold, back when he was just himself. He dreams of cooking for you. Owning an apartment. Even having a family. He swears, he’d be gentle. But he’s too uncertain. He isn’t good enough, and he certainly isn’t good for you.

You’ll have to be the first person to talk to him, warm up to him. He might not state it directly, other than a nonchalant nod here and there, but it makes him feel special. It’s the little interactions you two have that make him fall helmet over heels.

You two will spend hours, at the club, watching from the sidelines. Barbara and Tabitha out on business, Selina doing…Selina things. You’ll poke fun at the passerby’s to get a reaction out of him.

“Oh god, I just saw that guy kissing that girl- what’s he doing with that other chick?…Oh- they are making out. Oh, okay, he’s taking him to the back. I’ll give you $20 if Barbara kills this guy for doing it on her desk.” You’re snickering, gossiping. Every now and then you look over at him to see him already staring at you, the hint of a smile on his lips. It’s all you’ll get for now…until he responds.

“…Guess you’ll owe me $20 then.” He’s firing back, voice low. It’s the first time he’s spoken. The first time you’ve seen him do something other than brooding. It’s sweet.

These little things will become routine, and he’ll find solace in them. Eventually you’ll even play some tricks with your teleportation on the clubs costomers, scaring them, bumping into them. All the while you’re watching him in the corner, smiling, exhaling through his nose. He playfully scolds you sometimes, other times he chuckles. Either way, it’s a sight to see.

God, please don’t dissapear on this man. I don’t think he could take it. Gotham be damned, if you ever find yourself scared of him, he’d be broken. He’d think it was his fault, he’d think he lost his second chance at love. If you ran away from him, he might just up and leave Gotham.

But even if you did try to avoid him for awhile, I think he’d let you go without a fight. He’d just be more sulky than usual, more prone to picking petty fights with Firefly. You might find the room uncomfortably cold, even when he’s not occupying it. (He froze the AC to the club, he was upset. Sorry Barbara.)

I think he’s the only one on this list of characters that Barbara, Tabitha, and Selina might all actively approve of. Barbara wouldn’t mind having a henchman dating her bestie; soldifies his loyalty to them. Also, he’s good eye-candy. Tabitha doesn’t have any personal issue with the man, other than previously working with Penguin, of course. Selina will still make fun of him for being a walking freezer, but hey, what can you do. You have their blessing.

If you caught him before he decided to up and leave, explain to him why you run away, why you’ve been avoiding him. He won’t just understand, he’ll practically worship you. He’ll explain himself too, why he’s terrified of touching you. It’s not because of your dwarfism, or your powers. It’s just how he’s afraid of hurting or loosing you. Loving people is hard.

If he could cry, he would. But his tears will freeze when they touch his cheek. You’ll have to show him you aren’t fragile. He’ll believe you.

You guys can heal eachother.

𝑉𝐼𝐶𝑇𝛰𝑅 𝑍𝑆𝐴𝑆𝑍

♫ “The girl means business, so I'll offer her a drink." Voulez-Vous by ABBA

THIS Victor, on the other hand, is much more brash in his approaches to courting you.

He’s heard about you on the radio, from his boss, seen you in the newspapers, on the tv, watched you from the window in your apartment.

…What? Who said that?

He studies your every move. The man is calculated in his methods, what can he say? He’s not obsessed! (loud incorrect buzzer)

He just wants to size you up a little, see who the newest danger is in Gotham. He’ll convince himself he’s doing it for his boss, whether it be Falcone or Penguin. But it definitely goes deeper.

Unlike the other villians on this list that see your dwarfism as something to empathize with, Victor doesn’t really pay it any mind. He’s been around the block a few times- he’s been with women of all ages, heights, race, etc. The man really doesn’t have a type. What he’s attracted to is strength, independence, someone who will laugh at his dry humor with him. He’s stalked you at the club. He sees the way you banter with Tabitha and Selina, the way you make Barbara dissapear when she’s being too annoying with a flick of your wrist.

He’s incredibly attracted to a woman whose witty and good at what they do. Just like him.

Victor’s more subtle in his approach. He’ll make it casual.

So when you’re at the bar in the club, sitting around, watching the passerby’s, he’ll make his move.

“Now, what’s a girl like you doing here, alone?” He sneaks up behind you, giving you a start. You flush red at the man in front of you. Victor Zsasz. The words are spoken as he drums his fingers on the bar, cocking his head at your short frame. He towers over you, caging you in.

When you don’t speak, it doesn’t phase him. You’re about to teleport away in an instant, until he drawls your attention back to him with a lazy smile.

“So…” He whistles. “What’s your drink of choice? Wait- Let me guess.” The man doesn’t stop talking, listing off drinks that are most definitely not your drink of choice.

He watches you all the time. He knows exactly what your favorite drink is. But he wants you to stay.

It’s a bit awkward, a bit intimidating, and strangely charming. He speaks with an inflection that borders on sarcasm and curiosity. It’s intriguing, coming from Gotham’s most dangerous hitman.

“Can I ask-“ You squeak, now nursing a drink he ordered for you. It’s a Vodka Cran, and it could be worse. “…Is there a hit on me?”

He stares at you expressionless for uncomfortably long, before it forms into something quizzical.

“…Nah,” His voice is slow. He clicks his tongue. “Just an admirer.”

There’s an awkward scilence. He shrugs.

“Y’know. I’m a big fan of this place. Like the ambience.” He sips his own drink, you don’t know what it is. Just as his words sound out, you swear you can overhear a gunshot in the distance, probably from Barbara’s meeting with some other underground boss. Somehow, the sentiment makes you laugh.

He perks up at the sound.

You aren’t used to this. Someone being so casual about you, your powers, your small stature. He’s a bit flirty from time to time, but between the alcohol and his quips, you don’t seem to mind. He seems oddly genuine in his demeanor with every compliment or joke that slips.

You two keep the banter going for the rest of the night. Mostly chatting about how tiring your respective bosses can be. He does a poor drunken impression of Penguin, and you do one of Barbara. It’s a relaxing night in comparison to what you usually expirence living in Gotham.

You think you only see him every so often. Coming by the club whenever Penguin comes, or when a job is sent out, and his target is there. He’ll always send you a wink when he leaves, blood on his face.

But he sees you every day.

Yeah, the stalking only worsens. If you find your phone in different places throughout the day, or your window reopened, he’s the reason why.

He’s fine like this. In his head, the two of you are going steady. He’s pretty committed. You’re his girl, and that’s that.

Until you start avoiding him like the plague.

Zsasz WILL find a way to confront you. He doesn’t care if you teleport away each and everytime. He’ll find a way to get the message clear, through other means.

If you find a “talk to me.” with a smiley face, written with some poor saps blood, on your mirror, I apologize. He’s gotta get the message sent somehow.

Yeah, he won’t give up. He’ll go great lengths to get you two back together. He’s also listening to disco break-up ballads to cope. He’s getting the zsaszettes to stalk you when he can’t. If you still won’t budge, yeah, Tabitha might end up with a gun pointed at her head until you talk to him.

He’s not necessarily angry, but chasing after you is certainly taking a toll on him. Give the guy some credit.

Tabitha, still with a gun pointed at her, will be barking at you to not talk to him. He’s a creep, he’s an asshole, and you shouldn’t compromise your honor! (His eye will twitch at her words, trigger finger itching.)

Up to you what you decide to do! Explain the situation, talk to him, make things official, or…bye bye Tabitha. And that still won’t stop him. He doesn’t take rejection very seriously.

When you tell him exactly why you teleport yourself away, he’s the only one on this list who might think it’s stupid. He’ll understand, don’t get me wrong, but this is Gotham! Why would you be insecure? He garuntees you he’s met at least ten other people with far worse skeletons in their closet. You’ll have to teach him that’s not the issue.

Yeah, our little sociopath has a hard time with feelings. But I think you two would maybe be good for eachother! Teach him to listen more, whip him up into shape, and reap the benefits of having Gotham’s number one hitman as your personal bodyguard and lover. He’ll take you to stakeouts, make fun of Jim Gordon, crash your place. You two can watch Netflix under the blankets. He loves your size- cuddling into you like his own personal pillow.

Tabitha’s very dissapointed.

𝑅𝐴’𝑆 𝐴𝐿 𝐺𝐻𝑈𝐿

♫ “I'm really glad you came, you know the stars, you know the game.” Voulez-Vous by ABBA

May god have mercy on your soul, reader. Ra’s is a sight to behold when he’s in love.

He heard whispers of your name all around Gotham. He sees you on the news when he’s absentmindedly listening. A girl who can teleport herself and others, to any location? Even the power to control which body parts you maneuver. Extrodinary.

He’s immeadiatley infatuated with your power. He wants to covet you. Possess you. Have you close to him. He needs to see your power for himself.

He’s similarly calculated in his response to tracking you down. He will appear at the club, slinking into the shadows, whispering a quaint,

“Hello.”

It makes you jump, and as if on instinct, you teleport yourself away. He marvels at the way in which you do so right infront of his eyes. How rare it is, for him to be so easily confounded.

He must see you again.

You’ll feel his presence every now and then. Maybe even catch a glimpse of him watching you. You’ll turn back, eyes squinted, only to find he’s not there anymore. It confuses you just the same.

Though, you eventually get used to him watching. It turns into a little game between the two of you. If he can catch you, if you can catch him. It’s strangely endearing.

He’s also becoming increasingly more attentive to your daily habits. He memorizes your schedule. He sends members of the League of Shadows to observe you, to take notes on how you use your powers.

If any member insults you, or pokes fun at your dwarfism, Ra’s will spare them no mercy. Yeah…he’s making it a big deal. He’s ruthlessly insulting them for their ignorance, before killing them without a second thought. In a way, you belong to Ra’s already. He will not stand for disrespect among his order.

Ra’s is a gentleman. Just like Ozzie and Jervis, you’ll find gifts littered around your apartment. Little notes from him, written in the most exquisite cursive, expressing his admiration of you. Beautiful, rare, and expensive jewelry, tailored to the size of your wrists and neck.

You’ll see him exiting Barbara’s office sometimes, when he needs her for the demons head. He’ll send you a smile, half-way gentle, half-way playful. He’s unsure where the lines between love and facination blur; but he’s slowly realizing he loves you. He hasn’t felt such a way in decades. He’s been alive for very very long. No human woman has made him feel so helpless. He enjoys it thoroughly.

He’ll confess, the night before Gotham is meant to be blown to the ground. He’ll turn up, before the events are set in motion. You won’t have a clue in the world what he’s up to.

“My dear.” He’ll drawl, and you’ll go to teleport away, as you always do. It’s tradition for you two at this point.

Before you get a chance, he’ll click is tongue at you.

“Wait.” He speaks, voice sounding strangely desperate. It makes you freeze. “Come with me. Leave the city. Get somewhere else. I’d like to show you my home.”

Your choice, if you choose to leave with him. He’d make for a very attentive lover, and would protect you at any cost. But if you choose to do so, you’ll leave Tabitha and Barbara and Selina to their own fate <\3

Not that it matters if you decide to reject his offer. He’ll have you, one way or another.

125 notes · View notes

mochinek0 · 1 year ago

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Daminette December 2023: 26-Sparkles

Marinette had moved to Gotham. She had opened up a small shop that had a house in the second story. She would be a seamstress, while making her own comissions on the side. The newest addition to her move, was a puppy. He was still in training. She had heard how dangerous Gotham was and decided to get a guard dog. She had named him Damian.

"Damian!" she cried out, "Damian! Damian, where are you?"

Damian Wayne was annoyed. He was in the park with Titus and somoene kept calling out his name. Titus was starting to bark in response, likely calling attention to him. Damian stood up and decided it was better to confront the person causing a scene.

Damian opened his mouth to shout at them to stop calling his name when an Akita ran up to the girl. She kneel down and hugged it.

"Damian, you're back!" She smiled.

Damian blushed, watched the girl rub the dog's fluffy mane. Her smile shone brightly. Her eyes sparkled with happiness. Most of the time, he saw people with animals, but they're eyes seemed bored. Their pet had become a chore to them. The girl, in front of him, seemed to really care about him. The girl extended her hand, holding out a treat. Damian cleared his throat, drawing her attention.

"You shouldn't give him a treat after." he spoke.

Marinette turned to see a guy standing a few steps away from her. She looked at him confused.

'Was he talking to me?'

"He ran away?" He asked, "Correct?"

Mari nodded, closing the her fingers over the treat, before her dog could get it.

"Giving him a treat will teach him it is okay to run away from you." the boy declared.

"Oh." She replied, frowning, "Sorry. I'm still learning. It's my first time having a pet and I thought I was making progress training him."

'I need to read those training books more when the store gets slow.'

Mari noticed her dog, jumping excitedly, wagging his tail, waiting for his treat. Standing next to the boy was a black dog, remaining still.

'I guess he knows what he's talking about.'

"What exactly are you training him for?" he asked.

"Guard dog." she answered.

"Why?" he questioned.

"Let's just say.....people don't really like me." Marinette spoke, "They will, at first, then they all turn on me. Damian will be my protector."

"So Damian the Dog is-" he began.

"It's just Damian." Mari replied, glaring at him.

He chuckled, "So am I. I thought someone was calling my name, earlier."

"Oh!" she replied, shocked, "I'm so sorry."

"It is quite alright." He stated, "I named my cat after my grandfather. He is called Alfred the Cat. I suppose correcting you was a habit." making her giggle.

"I trained my own dog." Damian declared, "Perhaps I may be of some service."

"Really?" She smiled, "I'd like that a lot. Thank you, Damian the Human."

Marinette turned to her dog, Damian, hiding her blush.

'He's so cute. Why do I keep falling for guys with green eyes that sparkle? Damn, this weakness!'

"Let us exchange numbers." Damian the Human called out, "We need to set a schedule to meet up."

They exchanged numbers. Marinette listed him as Damian the Human.

"Marinette." he poke.

She looked up at him.

"Just testing it out." he smirked, walking away.

Mari flushed and made sure her dog's leash was properly attached before leading him away.

TAGLIST: @maribat-calendar-events @animeweebgirl@a-star-with-a-human-name@meme991001@vixen-uchiha@abrx2002@alysrose-starchild@fandom-trapped-03@dood-space@moonlightstar64@saltymiraculer@marveldcedits20@09shell-sea09@icerosecrystal@animegirlweeb@insane-fangirl-of-everything@blueblossombliss@nickristus-dreamer@megawhitleycalderonpaganus@missmadwoman@meira-3919@princessdaisysolosyourfaves@blep-23@fangirlingfanatic@darkhinauniverse@ravenr22@im-a-satanic-ritual@ravennm84@bianca-hooks123@a-slytherinish-gryffindor@starling218

#marinette dupain cheng #marinette in gotham #damian the dog #damian wayne #titus the dog #damian x marinette #marinette x damian #mlb x dc #dc x mlb #damian the human #green eyes #sparkles #mochinek0

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maribatz-2k · 1 year ago

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Child Of Mine

09/20/2023

Chapter 17

First|Previous

Two years later, Mari and Alix had moved to New Jersey to rebuild their lives. Alix applied for the art teacher position at the local schools and Marinette had opened a small store. The girls had found a dreary location of Gotham and sold their condo in London to a starting out family.

You’re probably wondering what would make the girls move to this location. Well my dear Watson, a dart to the globe did. Their home lays between the shady side and the abandoned side of the great city. If you’re wondering, the shady side is the rich smugs who flaunt money and don’t care for their city. What? Did you think we were talking about the side that has all the criminals who just want to tear up their city and take over like kings? Ha! That’s the abandoned side.

See Mari and Alix did research on Gotham after their dart landed on this city. They learned about the “Amazing” Batman and his fledglings, the villains of misfits, and the rich and poor communities. Since the loss and found of their sons, Mari and Alix decided they wanted to be helpful towards the wandering children of Gotham. Alix teaches the kids in the art studio she and Mari bought when Alix is not working at the school. Marinette makes sure they are fed and clothed, with maybe some medical assistances.

Marinette was working with a client when Alix walked in with a paper bag, two to-go cups of coffee, and a slim briefcase. Mari had to hold back her chuckle watching her wife stumble over the furniture to reach the desk to unload her supply. Her wife’s once proper bun was scattered and frizzed as if she had been pulling at it all day.

“I think its time to cut your hair short again. You look like Ms. Frizzle.” Mari comments winning a chuckle the tall male.

“If those rich brats tell me free form is not art one more time and we will continue to have problems.” Alix responds, placing the bags and drinks down on the entertainment table, fixes her hair, and walkover circling the client. “Oh wow, when is the big day?”

“The gala is in two weeks, and I plan to propose to my girlfriend.” The client was a tall, strapping young man, crisp straight black hair that didn’t pass his ears unless untamed. He stood there trying to not be pricked by the seamstress as he shifted to look at the red head that entered the building.

“I’m thankful I had a suit already prepared so I didn’t have to do it all from scratch. And in short amount of time.” Marinette looked up with a smile as she gave a small giggle.

“Why ordering a suit so close to the timeline?” Alix asks as she sits down on the sofa with her coffee and watches. The young man looks down as he answers.

“My brothers thought they would be funny and use my best suit for a joke. I’m still amazed they were able to do it. But it cost me my only good suit.” The man looked grim at the memory again. He was getting a whole new suit thanks to his brothers pranks. They had taken his suit and put it on the cow and painted superman’s insignia on her chest. His youngest brother was really pissed that they did that to his cow and ended up shredding the suit up to get it off. Alix fell back laughing at response then covered her mouth.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Reminds me of me and my friends growing up pulling some dumb stuff like that. Mari shook her head then stood up.

“You guys were horrible with your pranks. Alright Dick, please tell me if you feel uncomfortable anywhere?” She addresses the man then steps back to watch him examine his new suit. He moved around freely then twisted, feeling no rubbing or tightness anywhere.

“This feels good. Thank you.” He gives her the most shiniest smile that could surpass Adrien’s.

“No problem. Go ahead and change out of them and ill have ready the day of the gala so you don’t have to worry about further damages. If you want, we can even bring it to your door.” Marinette offered. He gave another smile then went to the dressing area. Alix smiled as her wife turned to her and gave her own distressed smile. She offered Mari her cup of coffee and pastry from the bag. Gratefully she accepted then sat down with Alix and nibbled.

“What would I do without you.” She retorted.

“Absolutely die. Not even Chloe could revive you.”

“No, but she would try. Dr. Bourgeois is now top 20 in general doctor in France. She would definitely try.” Alix laughs holding her stomach. It was a shock to everyone when Chloe announced that she was approved to Med School in London after école secondaire. But she continues to prove everyone wrong.

“I think I saw she was suppose to be coming out here for Christmas with Adrien. Think the blondes can handle this dark life?” Alix asked earning another shudder and giggles from Mari. Dick steps out from the dressing room, dressed back in his jeans and button up blue and black plaid shirt, the full suit draped on his arms.

“You sure you can bring to my apartment the day of the gala? I hate to be a bother.” His concern showing in his tone despite his smile.

“Yes monsieur, it will be fine. Besides you’re paying full price for a premade suit. I hate to see the money go to waste.” Marinette says with a smile of her own. Standing she walks over and takes the suit from him, then place it on a hanger and hang it up on a rolling hanging line. “Now, go home and spend time with your family. I must close up.” He gave her another smile then runs out of the door. She didn’t need to lock up yet it was only after 17:00 after all, but she had mini-clienteles coming in and she didn’t want anyone to scare them off.

Taps on the back door sprung a smile on Mari’s lips as she ran to it. Quickly she opened the door and ushered the children in. It was only a small handful this time round.

“Quickly now. I have three bathrooms available if you all need ‘em, all on second floor and one down here. Feel free to shower if you desire. You’ll find fresh clean clothes sitting on hangers in the bathroom closets. I hope they are the right sizes. I will be in the front.” Mari turned away letting the kids get their space then headed back to the lobby. She had the blinds draped half – way up, just to allow sunlight to still enter, and double check to lock the door. Finally, a set of kids walk in the lobby with her and Alix. It was three girls and two young strapping young boys.

“Oh my goodness you all look so cute! I’m glad they fit.” Marinette squeals happily. The youngest girls smile brightly, the oldest gave a curt nod. The boys just blush and scowl. “Oh, I’m sorry. You two look very handsome in your clothes.” This earned two happy smiles. Alix chuckles watching them all. Marinette crouched down to their level and adjusted the kids clothes accordingly, allowing room to grow and be able to still move around without contrition should they have to run away from strangers.

“Did you place your clothes in the hamper so I can wash them tonight?” All five of them nodded their heads. Mari smiles and stands back up, heading over to Alix to grab a couple of back packs. “Here, there are more clothes in here for you all. You are welcome to share them with others, but they are closer to your sizes. If you need more or just want to hang out, you are always welcome here.” Alix smiles as she hands the boys their bags.

“I even snuck in a couple of Mari’s famous homemade snacks.” She gave a wink as the woman gave a mock gasp of disbelief. The children giggle, even the oldest girl gave a mischievous smile. Closing the blinds completely, the girls walked the children out the back and to their “respective” homes. The couple stuck to the shadows watching them leave their sides, then headed out of the alleys to the main road to head home. Not aware of the time, the two decided to stop somewhere to pick up food. Thankfully, there was always the Tai place that remained open until midnight.

“Think we’ll run into him tonight?” Alix whispered to Mari on the way home holding their food bags. Mari shrugs holding Alix’s arm as they walked to their condo. Well aware it was time for patrol, the girls kept their eyes to the road avoiding to look around for the night crew.

The day of the gala couldn’t have come soon enough. Marinette was dressed as in her red pant suit and blazer featuring a white blouse ruffle down the front. Her hair was tied up in a tight professional bun pinned together by pearl barrettes and bobby pins. Sporting a pair of black kitten heels while Alix sported standard black slacks and a blue blouse, hair freshly cut to her old sporty, pixie style, and tennis shoes.

“Really?”

“What? You said dress business casual. Tennis shoes is the best casual.” Alix smiles innocently. Mari just shakes her head and smiles. They grab the dressing bag and head out the door to the addressed location. Luck was on their side, out of all the taxi cabs that never cross their living area, one comes by. They hailed it down then pass the address to the young man behind the wheel. The cab stopped in front of a rich apartment complex a couple blocks away from Wayne Enterprise. Alix hopped to main door, looked through the rows of name tags then pressed the button. The intercom let out a buzzing noise, then the door unlocked to let the girls in.

After three flights of stairs, they reach the apartment door greeted by loud shouts on the other side of the door. Fighting instinct, Marinette knocks on the door then tried to wiggle to doorknob finding it unlocked. They pushed the door open coming face to face with Dick wrestling with someone in his underwear. Alix let out a wolf call making the two men freeze in their spot and look up.

“Are we interrupting something?” Marinette asks. Dick quickly pushes against the other man to stand up.

“No, no. My brother just decided he needed to be an Ass.” Dick says turning his glare at the man below him.

“In your whitey tighties?” Alix smirks, raising a brow at the man. Dick’s face burns red. He leans over and grabs the blanket off the back of his sofa and wrap it around his waist.

“I-is that my suit?” He cleared his throat as he tried to speak. Alix and Mari laugh for his change of subject before handing the dress bag to him. Dick left the room to put it on, leaving the two with his so-called brother. The brother sat up on the floor and stared at the Alix and Marinette curiously.

“So, are you two going to just stay here until he pays you or are you looking for something else?” He asks clearly insinuating something inappropriate. Before Alix could say anything, Dick returned dressed dashing in the new black and white suit, with a tinge of blue that shined based on the lighting.

“Don’t you look sexy. If Kor’i doesn’t say ‘Yes’ I will.”

“Thanks Jason, but you’re not my type.” Dick says. “Thank you ladies. I’ll let you know what happens. Will need to commission you for future functions.” Marinette smiled widely.

“Always welcome to have the clients. Enjoy your gala.” They walk out and head back to the elevator when Jason ran up to them.

“Hey wait! I wanted to apologize.” Jason stops next to them, rubbing the back of his neck. Mari examined the young man, something about him feeling familiar to her. He stood a foot and a half taller than her in heels. White tuff of hair twirled in the front, body as brawny and muscular as her papa’s if she had anyone to compare to. His eyes held a bright blue hue to it but something about his eyes, something more, intriguing was drawing her in.

“Not a worry at all. Mari and I are use to mischief behavior all the time.” Alix gives him a wink then elbowed her wife, returning her back to earth. Before Marinette can say anything further, the elevator arrived and opened. “Our ride is here. It was a pleasure to meet you.” Alix drags the blunette into the machine and pushes the first floor. Mari just blinks and waves at the man hearing him just before the door closes.

“Another time.”

@laurcad123 @vixen-uchiha @iamablinkmarvelarmy @emimar7 @magic-miraculous @jayjayspixiepop @galla02006 @queenz-z @tazanna-blythe @talia-scar123

#maribat #mlb x dc #alixnette #child of mine #mother x child #alix x marinette #ml x dc #mominette

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abyssal-ali · 2 years ago

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Enchanted

A/N: Jasonette one-shot inspired by Taylor Swift's "Enchanted". Thanks to @forgottenfriends for inspiring me to adapt it to a Royal AU💜

If anyone wants to be part of a permanent or Maribat-specific tag list DM me or leave a comment. Constructive criticism or any feedback is appreciated!

~1.2k words

Marinette was tired of being at the royal family of Gotham's ball. Even the Wayne children, who usually livened up their father's dull parties, were being abnormally well-behaved.

She excused herself from the vapid conversation and found what appeared to be a good hiding spot. Escaping, she scanned the room for anyone who noticed her disappearing and accidentally locked eyes with someone. They were such a gorgeous colour; she almost wanted to talk to their owner just so she could examine them up close. A vision of a suit for next season incorporating the colour floated in front of her and she wished again to have her sketchbook. If she'd met the person before her hasty appointment as the royals' official seamstress, maybe she could have livened up this ball's outfits (her predecessor had very little vision and left to her half-finished outfits that she despaired over)...

The crowd parted and the owner of the hypnotizing eyes stepped in front of her. Marinette was torn from her half-finished design and realized she was staring, blushing profusely.

He gave a quick nod of his head. “Have we met before?” he asked charmingly. “I'm sure I would remember meeting someone with such good style as yourself before.”

“No, we haven't. I thank you for your compliment; I'm MDC.”

“Jason Todd-Wayne, at your service.” His lips just brushed the back of her hand as he bowed over it.

“Enc-delighted to make your acquaintance.”

“So, why do you look so bored?”

“Socializing with the elites is exhausting and your siblings are being remarkably polite for once.” Marinette clapped her hand over her mouth. Dang sleep deprivation. “I'm so sorry! I've just heard about previous galas and your family's antics, that wasn't meant...”

Jason laughed. “It's fine! When they're quiet like this, they're usually planning something, so keep an eye out if you want your dress to remain unscathed. Do you have a name or shall I call you M?”

“You haven't earned my name yet, monsieur, so M will have to do.”

“What does earning it involve?”

“Mmm, normally you'd have to be family or a close friend, or a loyal patron for over two years.”

“Would a waltz make us close enough friends?” He extended his hand with a flourish, which she took.

“Perhaps. No stepping on my toes, though,” she warned.

“I'll have you know I never step on people's toes unless they deserve it,” he said in mock offence as they move onto the dancefloor.

Although Marinette was a good dancer (thanks to several years of ballet when she was younger, which kept her light on her feet), she did not particularly enjoy it, but Jason was an excellent partner and kept her entertained with gossip and 'secrets' about fellow dancers and the royal family, so the time flew by faster than they did around the ballroom.

When Jason led her to the refreshments table for a cup of punch, a pretty blonde in a layered purple tulle dress approached the duo and cheerfully asked, “who's your new friend, Jay?” as she looped her arm through Jason's.

“None of your business,” he shot back.

Marinette noticed the girl tapping Jason's arm possessively. She'd given him her calling card and had considered inviting him for a free consultation (yes, she just wanted to use his eyes for her new ideas, she shamelessly admitted it, but she also wanted to spend more time with him) but now those thoughts vanished. Far be it from her to get tangled up in court relationships.

Swallowing, she excused herself and retrieved her wrap, heading out to her transportation home. She looked back once at the lights and glamour—sorry, clamour. The chandeliers had begun raining glitter and the unsuspecting crowd was soon covered in it, minus the royal family, of course, who had stepped away in time.

Replaying the evening in her mind as she was driven home, she found herself blushing as she recalled Jason's smooth lines and interested countenance. She'd thought he was flirting with her, interested in her, but obviously, the blonde had other ideas, whether Jason agreed or not. Marinette refused to be part of another love triangle, even if she'd also been the other girl in the previous one.

She stepped inside and found herself humming one of the pieces the 4-piece orchestra had played as she danced with Jason, her feet following the steps as she prepared for bed, finally. She'd moved to Gotham, been instated as the royal seamstress, gone over her predecessor's things and organized her workrooms to suit herself, gone over the royals' designs for tonight's ball (thankfully half were done and she only needed to add her signature touches and glam to the remaining four outfits), and then had to work on said clothing with her new crew of fellow textile workers.

This left very little time for sleep, and Marinette had been counting the minutes until she could politely leave her first Gotham ball for her bed. She was grateful that King Bruce has given her an invitation so she could see her designs in action and get a sense of what would be required for future events, but that was mostly overshadowed by her wish for sleep.

The clock struck two as she crawled between her sheets. Ah, blessed, comfy bed.

A knock on her door made her sit up angrily. Could she not get one peaceful, complete, uninterrupted night of sleep?!

She yanked her fluffy robe closed and flung the door open to see Jason on her step, still in his suit.

“Jason?”

He smiled, a little nervously. “Hey, M. I never got your full name; your card just has your initials and your address. Isn't that a bit backward? Anyways, you left before I could tell you I was enchanted to meet you.”

“Would you like to come in? Unless you have someone waiting for you?” Please don't.

“Nah, I don't. You're sure?”

“Of course...it was enchanting to meet you too. I wanted to tell you...”

He chuckled as he stepped in. “That was the doing of my older brother Dick and my younger brother's girlfriend, Stephanie. She's the one you met with me—she was warning me to move out of the way. I was going to sweep you off your feet and play your knight-in-not-shiny-armour, but you left. Did you read the Morse code?”

Marinette's eyes widened. “That's what that tapping was! Oh, I thought she was your girlfriend. So you're not in love with someone else, then...?”

“Nope. Were you worried?” he smirked.

“...maybe,” she drawled. “Well, you came out this late so I suppose I should reward your efforts. My name is Marinette. Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“Beautiful like you.”

Her cheeks flushed at the compliment. “So...this is just the first page?”

“Of our relationship? I hope it's not the end, I just got ypur name!” Jason joked. “I suppose I should leave you to your rest, mademoiselle. Enchanté.”

“Enchanté. Good night, Jason!” Marinette waved him off and went back to bed, dreaming of dancing with Jason, staring into his gorgeous eyes. He really was enchanting.

#Jasonette #Maribat #ali writes #Inspired by Taylor Swift

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us-the-voices-and-more-voices-2 · 5 months ago

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sorry I’m throwing my hat in with condiment king headcannons

He actually is a really really good cook he wanted to be a professional chef he even went to cooking school! But he went into debt and no one was hiring basically homeless Mr mayo

he works at a fast food joint as the only employee, everyone is a dickhead to him. But it’s either this or nothing Gotham has shit hiring rates and Wayne tech literally has no openings for cooks or cook hands.

His weapons are expired sauces, why? It’s free! And he has almost unlimited sauces. He also makes the most heinous sauces known to man and just in general horrible food stuff’s because it makes everyone vomit.

the Gotham rouges consider him the best cook of them all, and they appreciate him for it.

robs people with his sauces bc he’s broke as shit

27 years old and the most sleep deprived person alive

actually has a secret identity but his costume is so bad that almost everyone knows who he is.

lover of all puns

Kinda sick and unwell bc he drinks the Gotham tap water. some one get him a water filter

best friends with kite man and eraser bc D listers stick together

has beef with bat burger purely because the fast food joint he works at is in opposition to it.

somehow is a formidable opponent at times.

is allergic to nickel of all things

is actually a really good seamstress and basically uses punk patch techniques for his suit.

has a cute beanie in the shape of a crown when in civies

has his own brand of sauces that actually taste amazing but it never goes anywhere

#-pop #condiment king

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tarrenterror25 · 2 years ago

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Title: When the Night is Over Chapter: 2 of ? Pairing: Alfred Pennyworth (The Batman) x F!OC Rating: E Word Count: 5.8K

Summary: After the flood, Dulce looks to do her part to help Gotham heal and hopes to bring change to the city. As a wealthy designer there’s little she can do, but when she becomes privy to the identity of the Batman, she seizes the opportunity to help the caped crusader. With her close to Bruce, Alfred Pennyworth fears she has ulterior motives for the vigilante, but little does he know who she really has eyes for. Dulce learns what it’s like to live a double life and the sacrifices it takes to save a city.

Tags: post-The Batman, post-disaster, MxF, light violence/injury, family trauma, mention of family death

Playlist here

Notes: Much of this chapter takes inspiration from the Nolanverse.

Chapter 2: And So It Goes

“There are many kinds of beauty, and you can find it where you least expect.” - Jean Paul Gaultier

It’s just another late night for Dulce at the Castillo fashion house. The last employee left hours ago and outside the streets are empty save for the occasional newspaper blowing in the wind, The moon shines on the damp city streets and the stoplights change their color for the occasional lonely vehicle passing through.

Inside the backroom of Castillo, Dulce sits at her work station. She’s seen designers who usually keep their offices upstairs, but she has her table right with the other designers and seamstresses that she oversees. Her table is at the front of the room, but what’s important to Dulce is that she doesn’t place herself above those that she employs, figuratively and literally. Gotham has enough people who walk all over the ones who hold them up and she’s not trying to be like them.

She checks her watch and gasps at the time. How did it get so late already?

Dulce sets down her work and tries to tidy up her station, but settles on leaving it for tomorrow after she fumbles with some rolls of fabric that keep rolling off the table. She grabs her coat and heads out the employee entrance, being sure to lock up before she heads off.

The parking situation isn’t the best in Gotham, but thankfully for Dulce there’s a parking garage not far from where she works.

There’s a brisk wind that sweeps through the streets and has Dulce pulling her coat tight around her. Her heels click on the concrete sidewalk with sure steps. One can never be too careful when traversing the streets of Gotham at night. Whenever Dulce stays late, she never has any problems, but tonight she was particularly late and the night seemed darker than ever at this hour. Working in the Diamond District means that police regularly patrol the area, but tonight Dulce doesn’t see a single patrol car.

Somewhere in the distance, Dulce thinks she can hear the sound of someone struggling with something.

She picks up the pace.

Even in the finest parts of Gotham, no one is safe.

Not bothering to wait on the crosswalk signal, she crosses the street and arrives at the parking garage. Dulce wasn’t just late to leaving work, but she was also late to getting there and that makes her parking situation more on the less than desirable side.

On the bottom floor she finds the elevator and takes it up all the way to the top. When the doors part, she can spot her vehicle on the far side, all alone. She steps out of the elevator and glances over her shoulder as her ears hear something again.

There is definitely the sounds of a struggle somewhere.

Dulce can hear faints grunts.

And a whoosh.

Call her curious, but she gravitates towards the edge of structure, hands braced on the short wall that keeps her from falling from a high place. She scans the ground below. Nothing. She looks up and peers into the night.

Something’s moving out there.

Is it...flying? Possibly?

Dulce squints, trying to make out the black clad figure flailing in the wind. She catches a glimpse of the unmistakeable shape of pointed ears.

“The Batman,” she breathes.

He’s gliding, though not very gracefully. Dulce watches him weave through taller buildings in the distance. He seems to have trouble turning and instead of sharp swoops around the corners, he’s making wide sweeps. Before Dulce can ponder exactly what he’s doing, she sees him clip the edge of a rooftop and he begins to spiral. He rights himself, but she notices that he seems to be getting closer to her.

And closer.

The Batman releases a parachute and tries to steer himself to land, but he’s coming straight for her. Dulce’s stunned in place and she isn’t moving until it’s too late. When she does turn to move out of the way, the hulking vigilante tries to upright himself for the landing, but he only barrels into her, knocking her to the ground.

Dulce hits the concrete and the Batman keeps rolling until he harshly hits a couple of bollards. He groans in pain and lets out a curse.

For a minute, Dulce just lays there face down on the concrete, not worried about the sting from her scraped hands and knees. The Batman, or what she hopes is the Batman, is right behind her, shuffling to stand up. She can hear him struggling with the parachute. The harsh tearing of fabric rips into the night.

Slowly, Dulce pushes herself up, wincing at the small debris embedded into her hands and knees. A midnight clad arm helps her help and murmurs a soft apology.

Dulce brushes herself off, her coat is definitely going to need to go to the dry cleaners, but that’s not what’s important to her right now. She’s still reeling over the fact that Batman is right in front of her. “Thank you,” she says as she squats down to pick up the spilled contents of her purse.

The vigilante is silent save for some strained groans as he moves to collect the parachute and what appears to be a gliding suit attached to it. The city lights illuminate the dark enough that Dulce can see the apparatus is in disrepair, there’s a huge tear through the gliding suit. She slowly stands and watches as he briefly assesses the damage.

After a moment, he just angrily balls up the whole thing, quickly tugging the parachute and crudely rolling it up to make it easier to carry. Dulce doesn’t miss that he winces with each movement and that when he tries to walk off, he limps, a hand coming up to his side. He makes it over to the elevator and pushes the button to call it up.

“Hey,” Dulce says tentatively, “I can...give you a ride somewhere if you want.”

“No,” is all he says in response without turning to face her.

She frowns at that. “You’re in no shape to walk anywhere and judging from that in your hands, I don’t think you’ll be flying anywhere either,” she says.

The elevator doors part, but he doesn’t move.

“I’m fine,” he finally replies.

He takes a step forward to get on the lift, but a wave of pain comes over him making him stumble and brace himself against the doors. Dulce hurries over to him, unsure of whether she should touch him to help him, her hands just hover over his form. “Take it easy,” she says. “Just...Just let me help you. I can’t just leave you like this. Um, you have a vehicle or something?”

Dulce takes the wadded up parachute and gliding suit as Batman climbs into the passenger seat of her vehicle. She places it into the backseat behind him.

Call it curiosity again, but as she hears him shifting to get comfortable and buckling his seatbelt, she examines the apparatus. She quickly takes in where it’s torn, where it’s supposed to connect, and tries to analyze the craftsmanship as quickly as she can without being suspicious.

She moves to shut the backdoor until something catches her eye.

A label. On the suit.

A quick glance over to where Batman is in the passenger seat to make sure he’s not looking and she feigns that she’s just setting her coat in the backseat. “Just gonna set this back here, too,” she says glancing up to the rearview mirror where their eyes briefly meet.

Her heart pounds as his dark eyes hold her gaze and for a moment she thinks he’s onto her, but he just turns away. Dulce pretends to be folding up her coat, but grabs ahold of the label and yanks it off of the gliding suit, using the coat and a fake cough to muffle the high pitched rip.

Shutting the backdoor, she puts the label into the pocket of her skirt and gets in the driver seat.

Batman is silent during the drive save for a few directions. Unsure of how to break the tension, Dulce just dives right into what she wants to ask.

“I couldn’t help, but notice your suit,” she says. “It looks like it’ll need someone to patch it up.”

He’s quiet.

“No offense to whoever made it, but...I think I could do a pretty good job if you’d like.”

He’s quiet again. No, not quiet, Dulce feels like that doesn’t describe the way sound seems to dissipate around him. He’s silent.

“I know you don’t know me,” Dulce goes on as she drives. “But I’m a designer, my name is Dulce and I could...I could help you.”

“Turn here,” he says softly.

“I’m serious. I can darn, mend, or whatever you need to get that repaired.”

“What is it to you?” he asks looking straight ahead.

The question catches her off guard and she stumbles a bit over her words.

“You’re...you’re the- the Batman,” Dulce replies. “Helping you is helping Gotham and I care about this city too much to ignore the opportunity to offer my assistance.”

“I appreciate the offer,” the vigilante says. “But no.”

Dulce arrives at the specified destination, it’s just an empty street. She throws the car in park with a scowl and turns to face him. “I could help you, really!” she insists.

She reaches into the backseat and grabs the wadded up suit and parachute and shows him the tear. “I’m telling you,” she says, “I could fix this up and maybe, I don’t know, maybe even make it better. You...you used this from atop the GCPD didn’t you? I remember reading about it! It’s failed you once before and...I think I can really help improve it.”

“No,” he says unbuckling his seat belt and taking the suit from her. He exits the vehicle and begins walking off.

“Wait! Hold on!” Dulce calls out as she follows him. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know!”

The caped crusader turns a corner into an alley and Dulce hurries after him. “Hey!” she calls out.

When she turns the corner and steps into the mouth of the alley, she’s only met with a pair of lonely dumpsters.

Back in her car, Dulce angrily buckles her seatbelt. She feels defeated and a bit embarrassed. She’s also still trying to process what just happened; the Batman knocking her into the ground and then being in her vehicle was a little surreal and she was sure that no one would believe her even if she wanted to tell them.

Dulce examines her knees now that the adrenaline has worn off and she can feel the harsh sting of the scrapes she’s suffered. They’re minor and just need to be cleaned. She digs in her purse for some kind of handkerchief to wipe off the-

The label.

The scrapes can wait.

The car is thrown into drive and Dulce speeds home. She doesn’t bother hanging up her coat or purse, she just drops them by the door and races to her desk.

Dulce’s home is not at all what one would expect for someone in her position. For starters, it’s a loft and very open save for the bedroom tucked away in the wings. Dulce saw no need for something grand like a mansion or a penthouse like the rest of her peers. She only has herself to care for so she saw no need to take up so much space.

Warm earth tones decorate the space and there’s teal and rose gold accent furniture to brighten the space. There’s a brick wall with large windows that overlook the city and as for the furnishings, well, it’s clear that she’s not expecting many guests over. There’s a modest size television and a loveseat precisely large enough for just two people. Contrary to the sparse furnishings for company, Dulce’s space is lived in; sketches litter her dining table along with some work binders and there’s fashion magazines with tabs in them scattered on the coffee table. A small stack of books occupies the wingback chair next to the loveseat and on an end table sits the remainder of this morning’s coffee.

At her desk are swatch boards with fabrics, more sketches and work related things that she shoves aside. “Damn it,” she curses as some of the things fall to the floor.

She sits at the desk and turns on an overhead lamp and retrieves from her pocket the label she ripped off of Batman’s suit.

It’s just a standard looking cloth label, but whatever was stitched onto it is missing now save for a few letters.

It takes all night and Dulce’s no genius, but she doesn’t have to be to figure out the origins of the label, the origins of the suit.

The stitching on the label had come undone, but with a good set of glasses, a steady hand with the right tools, and a lot of patience, it’s like connect the dots for Dulce and she can make out the rest of the words.

Why does the Batman have something from Wayne Enterprises?

Dulce skips out on work at the fashion house so she can research further. She’s not a tech wizard so she has to do her detective work the hard way. She makes some phone calls, writes a bunch of emails, and does whatever she can to figure this out. It takes a few days and a lot of dead ends before she makes any headway.

Why am I doing this? She ponders at her desk in her home.

Instead of the usual fashion sketches, gown ideas, and scraps of fabric on her desk there’s pages of information she’s printed out about Wayne Enterprises: she has a directory of their departments, contact information for the head of each department, and information on the current board members as well as all of their public business proposals in the last few years. Wayne Enterprises has a few connections to military technology, but none of that sticks out to her. The city funded projects for better equipment for the GCPD, but again, nothing sticks out to her. She’s even called the GCPD and spoken with Commissioner Gordon to ask if he knew about any odd projects or happenings involving gliding suits. He seemed amused and surprised at the question so another dead end.

Why was she doing this?

I have a chance to find out who the Batman is.

But why did she want to know who he was?

The city...I can help him and help the city.

She kept telling herself that while she kept searching for answers. She kept telling herself that it wasn’t her pride driving her to find the truth. And once she found out who he was, what then?

She shakes her head.

She’d figure that out later.

When Dulce does go back to work, she stays even later than usual to see if she can spot the caped crusader, but he never shows. She tries to investigate the area where she dropped him off, but nothing. Just when it seems like she’ll have to give up her search, she makes a breakthrough.

The head of the research and development department at Wayne Enterprises is a man just like any other so Dulce is able to lay on the sweet talk to get him open up. It burns her to do this and to dumb herself down as well, but whatever gets her the answers she needs, she’ll do it.

“I’m certain I just have the wrong number, silly me!” she says sweetly over the phone.

Her voice is sweet, but she’s sitting in her office chair at her desk, boredly scribbling something on a piece of paper. She could vomit right now.

“That’s quite alright,” Roger, the man in question on the other end of the line says. “Who were you trying to reach Ms. Salazar?”

“Oh, well you see, Mr. Wayne is sponsoring my upcoming fashion show and he gave me a number for a uh, well, I’m not quite sure who, his handwriting is practically chicken scratch!”

Roger laughs at that and Dulce makes sure to laugh, too. Not just any laugh, that high pitched kind of laugh that gets men to say anything because they think it’ll go right over your head anyhow.

“Yeah, I’m not sure what you could find in our department for that, miss,” he says with a chuckle. “Unless you want tactical armor!”

Got him.

“Oh, Roger, you’re hilarious, really,” she says feigning that he’s the funniest person she’s ever come across. “Tactical armor! I hope you have something else I can work with besides that. Got any parachutes laying around?”

She says the last part with a flirty tone.

“I might have a few. You like base jumping?”

“Base jumping? Oh! Well, I’ve never been.”

“I could take you sometime, I’ve got a private helicopter we could take to-”

“I didn’t think there was any research to be had in base jumping of all things!” she says trying to get him back on track.

“Oh, of course,” he replies. “Not to get all technical, but it’s perfect for military use. We’ve got a couple of suits here we use to test out all kinds of things. Come by and maybe I give you a private tour of the department?”

The last part he says with too much innuendo for Dulce’s liking. She’s sorely tempted to take him up on his offer, to see for herself, but she decides against it. She’s not ready to indulge this Roger in that sort of thing.

“Wow, that’s such a kind offer, Roger, really,” she replies. “And I would love to keep chatting, but I should get going now.”

“How about dinner sometime? I know this-”

Click.

A shudder comes over Dulce and she composes herself to gather her findings.

She is certain that the gliding suit came from Wayne Enterprises now. The only question that remained is who took it and how did they get it without anyone noticing.

Maybe it was someone working in the department or it could be military personnel. Batman definitely seems like he has military experience. Was Wayne Enterprises hiding something? Some kind of vigilante program they were keeping under wraps?

Instead of sitting in front of the television with her dinner, Dulce takes her plate to her computer. She starts searching videos posted online of Batman and studying them. She stays up into the night watching grainy cellphone videos and CCTV footage of the caped crusader. She scrolls through comments, forums, and blogs reading theory after theory about who the Batman might be.

She glances at the time on her computer screen and curses at seeing how late it is. She really shouldn’t be pouring herself into all of this, but she can’t help it now, she’s in too deep.

A sigh.

She should be working on planning her upcoming show and her spring collection. She only has a few designs hammered out and some need alterations and-

Oh no!

She had been so busy with the mystery of the Batman that she neglected to deliver Bruce’s garments.

The next morning, she pops into work and packs Bruce’s clothes into some garment bags. She delegates some work to her employees as she grabs a work binder and then sets off for Wayne Tower. She’s already called Bruce’s office to make sure he’s prepared for her to stop by and she’ll go ahead and go over some things with him about the fashion show.

Dulce wonders what Bruce would think if she told him about her findings. He probably wouldn’t care. Or would he? If the GCPD found out about it, there is sure to be a thorough investigation of Wayne Enterprises. Bruce might have some interest, but Dulce doesn’t have interest in telling him. She wants to figure out who the vigilante is herself and speak to him face to face.

There’s her pride again.

The elevator ride to the top of Wayne Tower takes longer than Dulce expects. Her arms are starting to grow weary from holding the garment bags, but thankfully the doors part and she steps into a foyer of sorts. Not like she would forget where she is, but in case she did, the large ‘W’ motif on the polished tile beneath her heels is a good reminder.

Dulce’s greeted by an older woman in the foyer, Dory, who lets her in through the double doors of Bruce’s home.

The place is rather dark in terms of lighting and structure; gothic arches and deep wood tones are the highlights of the space. Large windows allow for natural light, but in Gotham, even living in the highest building means you’re still getting gray skies.

“Allow me to take those, miss,” a familiar warm voice says.

Alfred approaches Dulce and politely takes the garment bags from her.

Even out of the formal wear, he still looks so handsome. Dulce has to pretend she doesn’t have chills from the slight contact his hand made with hers just now.

“Bruce will be down momentarily,” Alfred explains. “Follow me and I’ll show you to the parlor where you can wait.”

The butler guides Dulce through the halls decorated with antiques and a few sparse family portraits that seem to stop the closer to the end of the hall they get. Alfred hangs up the garment bags in a closet and continues towards the parlor. Despite the use of the cane, Alfred seems to stride through the halls. It gives Dulce the sense that though Bruce’s name may be on the building, Alfred seems to be the one in charge of things here.

The parlor is a very open room with more dark colored furniture and gothic details. The only light that illuminates the space is from the large windows though in this room, it seems brighter than the foyer. There are two couches across from each other and a coffee table in the middle.

“Would you like me to take your coat?” Alfred asks.

“Oh, yes please,” Dulce says.

The butler tucks his cane under his arm and his fingers hook under the collar of her coat to help her out of it. The hairs on the back of her neck stand up at him being so close to her.

As he hangs her coat up in a closet nearby, Dulce smooths out her skirt and blouse. She starts to adjust her hair and then has to tell herself to stop fussing.

“Bruce tells me that the two of you have more in common than he realized,” Alfred says coming to stand beside her.

“Oh, yes,” Dulce replies as she clears her throat. “I’m also technically an orphan I suppose, but I wasn’t alone, I had some...relatives. But they passed when I was very young.”

She rambles and inwardly rolls her eyes at not being able to keep her composure around Alfred.

“If I may inquire, your name is different than that of your house?” Alfred asks.

It’s a question she’s been asked time and time again. Why is her name different than the one that’s on the building of her business? Alfred senses he’s broached a sensitive topic and apologizes.

“No, it’s alright, really,” Dulce says. “I get that a lot and perhaps that’s why people don’t remember me often.”

“You don’t seem like type one would easily forget,” Alfred replies.

There are those damn butterflies again. God, he’s so smooth.

Dulce explains, “My parents didn’t have the loving relationship that Thomas and Martha had. I was given my mother’s maiden name when I was born.”

“I imagine from the business side of things, your family didn’t take to that?” Alfred asks.

Dulce can tell he’s just making conversation to kill time while she waits for Bruce and damn, he’s really good at it. She feels so calm and relaxed, not her usual tense self with the wall she always has to put up. She laughs a little at his question and he smiles, too.

“You’re right, they didn’t like it at all,” she explains. “When my parents passed, my grandfather looked after me. He and a few aunts and uncles were quite...distraught that his only son had only one child and that the child didn’t even have his last name. My father left me his share of the business and at some point I think they tried to write me out of it while he was...on his deathbed.”

Alfred’s eyes shoot up in surprise and Dulce nervously chuckles at her moment of oversharing.

What the hell is wrong with me?

“Apologies,” she says, a hand coming up to her chest. “That...that is a rather grim thing to say. I’m so sorry.”

He gives a sympathetic smile. “It’s alright,” he assures her. “Bruce has dealt with similar circumstances. It’s easy for people to try and take advantage of someone who has lost something.”

Alfred insists that Dulce have a seat as Dory brings in a tea cart. The butler thanks her and she leaves. Dulce sits on the couch and can’t help, but watch Alfred as he sets his cane aside and begins to set out the contents of the cart on the table.

“I hope you’ll forgive Bruce’s tardiness,” Alfred says as he sets out tea for two on the table. “I have told him time and time again how rude it is to keep a lady waiting.”

“I don’t mind the wait,” Dulce says softer than she realizes.

She did mind. Usually. Dulce hates having her time wasted and people like Bruce are typically her least favorite. But for once she’s thankful that she’s being made to wait. She gets to chat with Alfred and admire him for that much longer.

The butler takes a shiny teapot and pours its contents into the two cups. The warm and comforting scent of lavender wafts up to Dulce. On the tea cart there are also a couple of silver serving bowls that Alfred arranges on the table. One has fresh and fragrant strawberries and the other has teacakes.

Dulce wants nothing more than to have Alfred sit down next to her, have tea, and tell her everything about himself. He’s a mystery she wants to unravel and the thought frightens her.

She doesn’t want to feel this way about him; she doesn’t want to get butterflies in her stomach, feel her heart jump at the sight of him, or lose her breath when his hand brushes hers. But she feels all of those things all at once and it overwhelms her.

Bruce finally enters the parlor and Alfred greets him.

“Thanks, Al,” Bruce says dismissing the butler.

He sits across Dulce and helps himself to a strawberry. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he says around the fruit.

Bruce looks exhausted, more so than whenever she’s seen him before. It’s eleven in the afternoon so it’s not like she’s dropped in on him at the crack of dawn or anything. She’s tempted to reschedule this visit, but she’s already taken time out of her day and again, Dulce hates having her time wasted.

“It’s alright,” she says with a worried brow. “Is this going to be a productive talk or-”

“Yes,” he says stuffing a cake into his mouth and washing it down with the tea.

“Right,” Dulce says pursing her lips at being interrupted.

Something about Bruce feels...off. It’s not like she’s familiar enough with him to know what his normal behavior is outside of social functions, but she can just sense that he’s withdrawn from her.

Wanting to just get this over with, Dulce retrieves the binder she brought and flips through some pages to go over a general idea of the event. She has photographs, some mood boards, spreadsheets, and all kinds of details covering everything from security to catering.

The show is to be held at Gotham’s Botanical Gardens and will feature some live music as well. “I’d like to get Dinah Lance for the event,” Dulce says.

Dulce’s choosing to make a statement with the show so she’s hired local vendors to work the event. “I’m using this as an opportunity to showcase the talents of the citizens of Gotham,” she explains. “Vendors who were affected by the flood will be offering their services to us. We’ll have photographers, food, drink, entertainment, and whatever else we need.”

“And the cost?”

“We’ll supply them with the cost of materials, any other fees, as well as pay for their time. They’ll pay nothing out of their own pockets.”

Bruce just nods as he eats a few more strawberries and Dulce feels relief wash over her. She’s never worked closely with Bruce Wayne and so she isn’t sure how he is with his money. Thankfully, he seems quite generous and she starts to feel optimistic about future business ventures.

"And funds from the sold pieces will go towards the relief efforts,” Dulce says.

“Why not auction them off?” Bruce quietly suggests.

Dulce blinks a few times, his response catching her off guard. This whole time Bruce has been fairly quiet and has hardly looked at her. She’s trying not to be offended and attributing it to his tiredness, but up until this point she really just felt he didn’t care and was just letting her talk his ear off.

He clears his throat and explains by saying, “Drive up the price a bit? People want what other people want.”

“That’s, wow, I didn’t even think of that,” Dulce replies with a genuine smile. “That’s a great idea!”

As the two talk, Dulce realizes how wrong she’s about Bruce this whole time that she’s never spoken with him; he’s shy and a little awkward, but well-spoken and not at all the lazy playboy the tabloids make him out to be. At the time, she believed the lazy part at least, not so much the latter.

The planning finally comes to an end for the moment, all the fruit, cakes, and tea gone. The two plan to meet again at a later date as they rise from the couch. Dory beckons Bruce to a side office where he has a phone call waiting for him. Bruce hurriedly excuses himself, keeping his head down as Alfred enters and retrieves Dulce’s coat.

“Went well, I hope?” he asks as he hands the coat to Dulce.

“Oh, yes, I guess,” she says as she reaches out to take the coat. “I worry that he thinks some of my ideas are too ambitious. He’s not exactly perfect for bouncing ideas with, but we’ll just have to see.”

Alfred holds the coat out and makes a gesture for her to turn around so he can help her put it on. It catches Dulce off guard as his face is not stern, but it definitely says that there’s no room for questions. For a moment she’s just standing there staring at Alfred.

“Something wrong?” he asks, raising his brow.

Oh, the way he looks with just his scarred brow quirked up; Dulce’s suddenly lost for words. The two of them are nearly eye level; Alfred doesn’t have much of a height difference when she’s in heels, he’s about a few inches taller, but with that look on his face, she swears he’s looking down on her with how small she feels.

“What? Oh, no, I just, um...”

Slowly Dulce turns and guides her arms into the sleeves of her coat. Alfred’s fingers in the collar brush against her neck as he helps secure it on her shoulders.

“Thank you,” Dulce says softly.

Bruce walks back into the room and thanks Dulce again for coming as Alfred steps aside. Dulce can hardly process Bruce’s words as she buttons up her coat, her mind still reeling from the interaction. She feels almost light headed, she needs to get home quick before she embarrasses herself further.

“Thank you for having me,” she says starting for the way out.

“Oh!” She quickly turns and faces Bruce. “One more thing,” she asks. “What do you plan on wearing?”

Bruce just shrugs and his hand comes up to rub his chin thoughtfully, but it’s more like he’s trying to hide behind his hand and not speak. Alfred gives him a look that says he should probably answer Dulce who’s looking at Bruce with a concerned brow.

“Just something I have here,” he says softly. He clears his throat and says it a bit louder when Dulce doesn’t quite hear him, but he speaks quickly like he’s trying to avoid talking.

“Yeah, that won’t do,” Dulce says. “Stop by again and I’ll fit the both of you?”

The last part she asks with a glance to Alfred who just nods his approval.

“That’s fine, but really,” Bruce says. “I’m fine. I’ll just-”

Alfred interjects. “I’ll have the front desk schedule something with you, miss,” he says with a warm smile that begs for forgiveness for his ward.

“No, Alfred, it’s fine,” Bruce argues, his voice louder than it’s been the entire afternoon. He looks to Dulce and says firmly, “I appreciate the offer, but I’m fine.”

Dulce waves her hand dismissively and says, “I won’t press the matter, but really I think you should-”

Silence befalls them like a wind takes out a flame.

The air is thick, heavy with tension. A clock ticking somewhere on the wall is suddenly deafening to the trio.

Dulce’s wide eyes flick over to Bruce who stares at her with a hard expression, jaw clenched and his pupils wide.

It speaks volumes.

She knows she’s heard that line before though it was much softer that time, raspier, and more articulate than Bruce is at the moment. Her eyes flick over his form, mentally comparing his figure to all the videos and photographs she’s been studying. The dots connecting in her head as Bruce gives the faintest tilt of his head that says “don’t”.

Alfred looks between the two of them, confusion evident on his features, and clears his throat. “Let me walk you out, miss,” he says stepping between them. “Bruce has some other matters to tend to and I’m sure you’re also quite busy.”

It all makes sense now, the realization flooding her mind; of course Bruce would have access to the tech at Wayne Enterprise and that’s why he’s been so quiet and so reserved, and that’s why he looks so tired.

It all makes sense.

Dulce follows Alfred out of the parlor, but not before looking over her shoulder at Bruce and saying one last thing.

“Bruce,” she says.

Bruce looks to Dulce, she can see it on his face now, yes, that brooding stillness in his dark eyes. She can see it even without all the black around it and she’s certain, it’s him.

“Don’t stay out too late tonight.”

#when the night is over #wtnio #Alfred Pennyworth #alfred pennyworth x oc #alfred pennyworth fanfiction #alfred pennyworth x f!oc #the batman!alfred pennyworth #the batman!alfred pennyworth x oc

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hatterhare · 1 year ago

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More Pauline Backstory stuff because inspiration strikes randomly and hard

Content Warning:

Abuse (general) / Misogyny / Murder (blunt force + beheading) / Death / Adultery

Pauline Margaret Tailor - later Pauline Margaret Dekker after marriage - was born on December 11th, 1942 to her parents Dolly Tailor (Mother) and Joseph Tailor (Father). She had an older brother - Daniel Tailor - and a younger sister - Juliet Tailor - whom she got along with well.

Joseph Tailor was not a kind man and would often enact strict rules on his wife and children - particularly Pauline and Juliet. This led to Pauline having an extremely close relationship with her mother. Her mother, being a seamstress, would teach her daughters how to sew and create things from bits of fabric left over from her projects. Pauline immediately fell in love with the idea of creation and especially all the different colors things could be made from. She heavily associated different colors with different emotions and would color code everything in her life accordingly - including her diary.

As Pauline grew older, her childhood fascination with color and emotion grew more intense. She would spend hours detailing how different colors made people react - in a multitude of contexts. Writing all of her observations down in notebooks she kept under the boxspring of her bed. She wasn't very popular in school due to her bookish nature and she didn't have much interest in dating. She kissed a boy on a dare, but she either didn't notice when people liked her or outright ignored them.

Unfortunately, when she was in her senior year of high school, Pauline's brother got killed in a hunting accident. Their father brought him home wrapped in a quilt their mother had made and he was buried in the backyard. When washing the quilt, Pauline had what seemed to be a mental break at the time as she began to panic and describe in detail exactly what her brother felt in his final moments. She clung to the quilt as she was carted to the hospital, as even though it caused her distress, it was also somehow keeping her close to Daniel. Since then, Pauline has been fixated on the idea of quilts and quilting and began making blankets as a way to ease her mind when she begins to miss her brother or other things upset her.

Eventually, Pauline tried to apply for college, but found it difficult to get in as a woman in her time. She eventually brought all of her research on psychology and color to the Dean's office - who promptly laughed in her face. Saying, quote, "Doll, with a pretty face like yours, you shouldn't be writing about this sciencey stuff. Why don't you go home and worry about what's for dinner instead, hm?" Pauline left in a hurry, bursting into tears behind the head office. There she met George Dekker, a clean dressed man who offered her a hankerchief and asked her what the trouble was. The two immediately hit it off, despite some of George's odd behaviors. Eventually after a lengthy courting process, the two of them got married and moved to Gotham City.

George claimed the move was for work when Pauline questioned him why they were so close to so much crime. She felt uneasy, but accepted it as an answer. For a while she and George were happy, she was a homebody who was happy to be so and George brought home enough money to be comfortable and spoil his wife. But, as the years went by, George grew increasingly distant. He became cold to his wife, working extremely long hours at work only to come home in such a bad sorts that he barely acknowledged Pauline outside of barking at her to fetch his dinner. The money too was starting to inexplicably drain from their funds.

In such stressful circumstances, Pauline took up her old hobby of sewing quilts and soon the living room became a mess of random scraps of fabric and various pins stuck in the furniture. One day, George accidentally pricked himself on one of Pauline's thick needles. He used her current project to stop the bleeding. Proceeding to berate his wife, screaming at her and throwing her sewing supplies at her and into the walls. Eventually slamming the door as he left in his anger. Pauline cried as she picked up her supplies, eventually picking up the quilt her husband had bled all over. She was struck with the same kind of vision she had when she was cleaning her brother's quilt. A vivid play by play of George's memories. This time she stood strong as she watched the apparition of her husband - who had been secretely leading an underground mob and sleeping around with various women in the city.

Pauline became so blinded by rage that when her husband finally came home from work - she bashed his head in with a cast iron skillet. Proceeding to cut off his head and carrying it in her tote bag to where she saw the mob hanging out. She plopped it in front of the members, using it as intimidation to get them to follow her orders - which after some apprehension they eventually did. With the help of the gang, she avoided time in jail. Going to her husband's funeral stone faced under a black veil - it would be the only time wearing no color was enjoyable to her.

She continued to lead the mob for 40 more years. Using her men to do what she always dreamed of doing and amassing wealth and a reputation along the way. She learned to be a sharp shooter, getting scarily accurate with a pistol. She also found creative ways to use her memory seeing ability to dig up dirt on her enemies in a way few would detect. She also discovered that she could pull pieces of soul onto her needle if she pulled it all the way through someones skin - and she could trap them within her blankets if she used it to quilt with.

During her 40s, she met and fell in love with a lounge singer named Pearl Darling. The two had a secret affair. Pauline used her men to keep it private, silencing anyone who dared to try and out her. The two remained happily together until Pearl passed at the age of 68. Some of her soul now resides in a small felt doll Pauline keeps on her nightstand.

As Pauline has gotten older, her vision has started to decrease, meaning she can no longer see colors as vibrantly as before. She has become obsessed with the idea of becoming younger, kidnapping random citizens to steal souls as she researches the key to immortality.

#hare for a chat #i dont know why i got so focused on crazy quilt of all characters but here we are #still upset hes not actually an old woman

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21stcenturyschizoidfag · 1 year ago

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i would be the gotham city seamstress BTW i wiuld be the one running back and forth to 83738 different charity shops looking for stuff to modify for the villains costumes. and i would do it for free. Or for kisses. Dont read that last part

#the costume design really is the only thing im 99.9% sure i love with no ragrets..#averyposting #(im watching batman forever)

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as-is-above-so-below · 2 years ago

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In the Middle of the Night (Jason Todd x OC)

Masterlist

Chapter 3, Chapter 5

story summary: Melanie Withers and Jason Todd do everything together - including but not limited to stealing tires off Gotham's famous vigilante. The newest additions to the Wayne family begin their journey, learning how to navigate their new family, life as vigilantes, adolescence, grief, and rebirth.

chapter summary: Melanie's birthday and AN ADOPTION!

Chapter 4

December 2011

Bruce wasn't able to enroll them at Gotham Academy before he became their legal guardian, so the weeks following Thanksgiving were mainly spent exploring the manor, causing mischief, and lazing about. As promised, Dick took Melanie out to find decor for her room, just the two of them. He had to use a little force to get her to pick things out as Alfred had, but he was more teasing and antagonizing. It was strangely nice getting to bond with him without Nightwing and Robin in the way. Jason got the same treatment, a full day out on the town and a trip to the arcade. He and Bruce had another spitting argument about the future of Robin; this time, they made sure to lock down the Batcave, barring Jason and Melanie from spying again.

Rude.

Her thirteenth birthday came and went as well. Bruce put up a fight, but she insisted on not having a party. Next year you can throw the birthday bash of your dreams , she told him. Alfred and Jason (mainly Alfred) baked her a delicious cake, which they all horribly sang “Happy Birthday” over. Her cheeks were flushed a deep red for an hour afterward. Dick gifted her a giant, thick quilt that she eyeballed on their shopping trip but had passed up because it was outrageously priced.

“Dick, I can’t take this–”

“Yes, you can! I threw the receipt out, you don’t have a choice,” he snickered, the tip of his tongue stuck between his teeth.

Smug bastard.

Again against her request, Jason bought her a stereo system, so they could listen to music and dance together. He was a big fan of dancing with her – it was one of the few things they had when they were at their lowest. Even if they couldn’t scrounge batteries for their little pocket radio, he would always sing or hum a tune. Starving, exhausted, and dirty, he could still hold her close and shuffle about whatever place they temporarily called home. She almost couldn’t be upset with him for giving her such a thoughtful gift, but she still gave him a half-hearted shove.

Ironically, the only person who did what she asked was Bruce. Instead of buying her a gift, he surprised her with a visit from the seamstress and Lucius Fox. The seamstress took her measurements and walked her through what she wanted her dress to look like for the Wayne Gala on New Year's Eve. When the woman left, Bruce took her and Jason down to the cave to design their suits with Lucius, which was much more interesting than the dress.

After a half hour spent arguing, Melanie relented and let Jason take up the mantle.

Jason was officially Robin.

His would remain relatively unchanged from the original Robin suit. It would still be red, green, and yellow, with the Robin emblem on his left breastplate. With the addition of pants. And sleeves. And actual shoes.

Okay, maybe a lot was changed, but the structure was there.

When her turn came, she hastily shoved Jason into the elevator, ignoring his complaints. Her persona would be a surprise .

Soft snow flurried to the ground, carried by a cold breeze that had taken over Gotham. The temperatures had dropped significantly in December, and snow had quickly turned from a thin blanket to several inches of fluff. The Gotham City Courthouse was huge and historical; not as intimidating as the manor, but a close second. It was possible that the courthouse itself wasn’t intimidating and instead the task ahead made Jason nervous. As they climbed the white marble steps, his hand shot out to grab Melanie’s in front of him, but Dick came up behind and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You alright there, Jaybird?” he questioned, giving him a gentle, reassuring squeeze. When Jason didn’t respond, he wrapped an arm around his back in a side hug. “I know it seems scary, but it’ll be quick. Won’t be in here for more than thirty minutes, promise.”

Jason’s head bobbed, finally breaking his gaze from the building and meeting Dick’s. “I just… I don’t like places like this. It makes me queasy,” he muttered, suddenly feeling small.

Dick’s palm pressed his shoulder, rubbing gently in an attempt to ground the teen. He didn’t want to pretend to know what Jason and Melanie were going through; when he became Bruce’s ward, he had come from a loving, albeit unconventional, family. He didn’t know what it was like to starve or fend for himself on the streets of Gotham. But what he could do was be a shoulder to lean on and offer his unconditional support.

Bruce’s hand around Melanie’s steadied her when they crossed through the double doors of the small municipal courtroom. It wasn’t as big as a criminal court, meant only for proceedings such as adoption. There were just enough seats for a few friends or family to attend if invited; that wasn’t the case for them today. Melanie had asked if Bruce and Dick would invite their “super friends” as she called them, but they decided it was too soon to introduce their real identities. So for now, it was just Dick and Alfred joining them. Jason appeared beside her with tender fingertips to her spine, which she leaned into with a smile.

“We’re going to sit on the left there,” Bruce commented, tilting his head in the direction of the long table. “Dick and Alfred will sit behind us. The judge is just going to go over the paperwork and make sure everything is in order. Then she’ll ask the state’s attorney if they object to the motion – Which they won’t,” he quickly added, seeing Jason and Melanie’s eye shoot to his. “They won’t. I promise. Everything’s taken care of, but it's all part of the process. I’ll sign the declaration, and we’ll submit the forms to change your names.”

Melanie nodded in understanding, happy to have the process explained. They’d talked about it several times before their appointment, but it was reassuring to hear it again. The judge entered from the door behind the bench, signaling them to sit down. Melanie and Jason slid into their seats before Bruce settled between them, patting Jason’s thigh with a smile.

“It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Wayne. Considering your experience with Mr. Grayson, I don’t have to ask nearly as many questions as I usually would.” She shuffled some papers around, her glasses on the tip of her nose while she searched through the stack. “Ah, here it is. It looks like everything is in order.” Her glasses were placed on the desk, and her body leaned forward. “Mr. Wayne, do you understand that adoption is a lifelong, permanent commitment? And that you are assuming all responsibility and liability for these children?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Miss Withers, Mr. Todd, do you want this adoption to proceed? Are you happy under Mr. Wayne’s care?”

Warm smiles graced both of their faces as they chirped, “Yes” and “Definitely”, talking over each other.

The older woman grinned back at them, her eyes crinkling. She turned her eyes to Dick in the back, waving her hand. “Hello again, Mr. Grayson. Lovely to see you all grown up. Your brother’s been treating you two well, I hope?”

“He’s obnoxious–”

“ Jason!”

“What?! He is!”

Dick snickered behind them, arms crossed over his chest. He shifted forward over the guard rail and flicked the back of Jason’s head, causing a howl from the kid. He whipped around to retaliate until Bruce scolded the boys with a harsh ch between his teeth. “We are in a courthouse. Knock it off.”

Jason hesitated but decided it was in his best interest to do as he was told.

The judge met Bruce’s apologetic eyes with a gentle shake of her head, her lips tugging at the edges. “I think I’ve seen enough. Is the paperwork for name changes here as well?”

“Yes, your Honor–”

“Bruce,” Jason whispered, tugging on the sleeve of his suit jacket. Bruce gave him all of his attention, his torso moving into Jason’s space. “Do I– Do I have to change my name?” His stomach rolled helplessly, his heart beating in his throat, and his eyes quickly dashed down to the table. He hated feeling like this. The last thing he wanted was to offend the man who was adopting him and giving him so much. What if he got angry? What if he kicked him out? He would never see Melanie again –

The man’s dark brows came together, wrinkles forming between them. His large, calloused hand reached up to caress the nape of his neck. Jason instantly relaxed but still looked away. “Of course not, son. Do you want to change your mind?” His voice was low, speaking only to him as if he were the most important person in the world.

Son.

His bottom lip caught between his teeth, and he raised his eyes back to Bruce’s.

Bruce pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head, and his face turned a deep shade of red. He never received that kind of affection from anyone besides Mel and his mom, let alone his father. His stomach stopped turning and filled with warm, fuzzy butterflies at the comforting hold.

Keeping his hand in place, Bruce addressed the woman, “Just for Melanie, your Honor.”

“Very well.” Her glasses slid back onto the bridge of her nose and her pen dragged across the paper. “It will take a few days for the name change to go through. I can have the Records department reach out when Melanie’s new birth certificate is ready. Otherwise, the adoption is officially approved by the City of Gotham!” She cracked her gavel, and a small applause broke out from Dick, Alfred, Bruce, and the woman at the bench. A hand ruffled her hair as she giggled, squirming away from the force. Melanie leaned into Bruce’s side and buried her face there, his arm draping over her with a throaty laugh.

“Before you all go, I do have to warn you, court dockets and schedules are available to the public. There wasn’t a crowd when you arrived because you were early, but–”

Dick’s chest huffed with an accompanying eye roll. “How many people are there?” His voice was practically begging. “It can’t be as bad as when I was adopted, right?”

A sympathetic grimace spread on her wrinkled face.

Dick and Bruce sandwiched them together between their bodies as they exited City Hall. Melanie’s fingers gripped the back of Bruce’s jacket at the flashing lights and loud attempts to grab his attention. Jason walked beside her, holding her hand tightly from Dick’s side. “Holy shit,” he exhaled a short ha! “I don’t remember nearly this many people last time.”

Holy shit’s right.

“Double the kid, double the crowd?” Jason offered, his thumb dragging back and forth across her knuckles.

Bruce scowled with pinched lips and his perfect posture somehow straightened more. Dealing with reporters came with being a Wayne, but that didn’t make it any less irritating. He had hoped to have at least a few hours to prepare them for the media frenzy that would follow the breaking news of two new children. “This is unfortunately a regular occurrence. Consider it an initiation into the family,” he muttered in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Alfred went around back to get the car, so this should be quick. If you’d like to speak, you can, but don’t feel pressured.”

Dick gasped, almost like he was going to jump out of his skin. “Does that mean I can–”

“Absolutely not.”

He visibly deflated, his lips in a deep pout. “But Bruce–”

“Dick, I said no.”

“But the chaos–!”

Dick stopped himself as a pretty redhead met the group halfway up the steps, batting her lashes at Bruce. Jason and Melanie shared a look that said Ew.

“Hello, Vicki.”

DOUBLE ew. Who would willingly go by Vicki ?

“Hi, Bruce. Mr. Grayson,” she gave Dick a quick side-eye. “And you two must be the newest additions!”

“This is Melanie,” Bruce explained, being cordial with the reporter with his dazzling smile. “And this is Jason. They’ve been in my care for the last month.” He neglected to mention just how they came under his care. The public didn’t need to know about their… criminal tendencies. “They needed a home and I’m happy to give them one.”

“That’s wonderful! Would either of you care to comment?”

Jason’s face was plastered with a wicked smirk, mischief rolling in his gut. “Fu-”

Bruce’s large hand slapped over his mouth.

Melanie choked on the laugh in her throat, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, and Dick chortled next to Jason. Bruce glared at her, daring her to try anything funny. Alright, alright.

“Um…” She looked up at him, her hand pulling harder on his clothes. “I’m–I’m really happy we met Bruce. We were struggling just a month ago and ah… I’m not sure where we would be without him.” Bruce’s hand left Jason’s face and caressed her hair with a small but warm smile. Suddenly, a well-timed car horn all but saved them and she pressed against Bruce’s back, urging him forward.

“Thank you, Vicki, but we have to get going. A quick word?”

Dick nudged his elbow in the direction of the black vehicle through the crowd. “Give them a minute. Let’s go,” he said while moving in between Jason and Melanie, offering his hand to her, which she took. He kept a hand between Jason’s shoulders to lead them to the car, and to keep them both close in the thick crowd. He shuffled them into the car first before sliding in, letting out a hearty groan-mixed huff. “Unbelievable, they’re like vultures. It’s gross,” he muttered, dusting off his arms as if to rub away the feeling of hands grabbing at him.

Melanie squeezed into Jason to look out the window with him, their noses squished against the glass. Her hands pressed into his thighs to support her weight as she leaned over him. “What are they talking about?” Jason questioned, watching their conversation. The reporter had lowered her microphone and leaned in to speak quietly with him. They were clearly speaking privately.

“He is reminding Miss Vale of his rules,” Alfred informed them, turning his head to look at Dick with a raised brow.

“Rules?” Melanie asked, just as he made his way towards the car. The rear side door opened, and Bruce slid into the seat across from them.

“I cannot trust a single one of you to be civilized with the media,” Bruce grumbled, plopping into the seat with a thud. “I was reminding Vicki to let her colleagues know that they are still not allowed to speak with any of you without my presence until you are eighteen. Obviously, that rule has proven its efficacy. Again.”

“Awe c’mon Bruce, I’m not that bad–”

“You absolutely are. You called Vicki a cheap knock-off of Lois Lane and tried to bite her finger– ”

“She was pinching my cheek! I don’t know what it is with the public and their incessant need to always touch me, but it all started with her! I have no regrets.”

Bruce shot him a look and Dick huffed. No one spoke, leaving the car in a comfortable silence as Alfred drove them back to the manor.

“If I may, Master Bruce,” the butler paused, waiting for Bruce’s affirmation to continue. “Etiquette training is just as important as the physical and mental preparation of their roles. Perhaps Master Dick could use a refresher as well.”

Dick’s long body was thrown across his seat with a dramatic groan, flopping into Bruce’s lap. “Can it at least wait until after we go sledding?”

“Only if I’m invited.”

The next morning, where a photo of Bruce, Dick, and Alfred in a small courtroom sat on display on the center table in the grand foyer, another frame was added. With a much older Dick, Bruce, Alfred, Jason, and Melanie in the same room, with beaming smiles and bunny ears stuck up behind the newest Waynes.

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saving-ray-23 · 1 year ago

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BATGIRL (ELEVEN)

Coach Yeoh was a master of all trades, it seemed. Lacrosse coach by day, seamstress by night. She had heard from James that she was a small, tiny fan of Batman and went nuts. The next day, she was presented with a dark purple jacket make of leather, a bright yellow bat-symbol on the chest. It was badass to say the least, not to mention one-of-a-kind.

And when Barbara asked how she got it, all the Coach said was that she knew a guy. By Friday, the costume was complete and awesome. Coach Yeoh had found this cape that clipped onto the jacket shoulders and a utility belt dyed bright yellow filled with dollar tree smoke bombs, safety pins, and a couple fake batarangs from Toys-R-Us. Barbara cleaned a pair of black jeans and laced tightly the yellow boots she had gotten for Bess too long ago to remember. She never got a chance to give them to her, but with all the effort Coach Yeoh was putting into the costume, she couldn't find a good excuse to not wear them. Last was a dark coat of greasepaint in a stripe across her face and with her hair braided back and most of her face hidden under the hood of the jacket, she was a female Batman.

It was extremely dorky, but that night, she just felt . . . cool.

James and his girlfriend were going as police officers— most likely a slight towards the Commissioner, but Babs tried not to overthink it. It was a party— something fancier than the annual Policeman's ball but hopefully not as awkward as a Gotham Academy Formal.

When they got there, it was a mess. Mostly adults, already taking advantage of the open bar and lack of more than three kids. She mentally sighed, watching her cousin's girlfriend practically dive into the crowd.

"You know," James said, leaning closer. "I heard Bruce Wayne's here tonight."

Babs tensed, nails digging into her palms as she forced herself to stay calm. "He's probably enjoying the chaos."

Just because his dad was there, Dick didn't necessarily have to be. She remembers him once saying he hated to stuffy balls and galas. Said it was all old ladies pinching his cheeks and saying how much he'd grown.

The costume ball seemed nothing like the boring events he'd described.

Squeezing her shoulder once, James disappeared into the crowd with an easy grin, as though he hadn't just dropped a bomb on Barbara.

She gravitated towards the nearest table, slumping in the seat. The lights were dimmed and the music was loud— something felt weird about the situation. Lex Luthor was nowhere to be seen, though she doubted he attended most of his parties. The bald-headed Superman-hater gave off more of a Gatsby vibe; throwing the party to show off all his riches without actually being apart of the party.

She looked around the scene, eyes searching for Lois Lane. Only Lois Lane. She wouldn't look for Dick buttface the third because he was a jerk who—

Who was kissing Jenny Addams?

Barbara felt— she felt—

She didn't know how she felt. Dick— she'd been mad at him for so long because he pretended to be her friend, just like everyone else. Because he wouldn't leave her alone— because he kept spamming her with bullshit apologies.

Because she thought he was better than that.

And she had felt bad for a while, too. She didn't like making people feel bad, even jerks who totally deserved it. It just made her feel bad and them feel bad and most of the time it wasn't worth it.

But clearly Dick didn't feel bad. Not at all. He was just perfect. Probably breathless because he hadn't come up for air in—

Standing, Barbara stormed out the doors.

It took Barbara nearly an hour to get back to Somerset. She had texted James after a while, letting him know she wasn't feeling well and left early. It wasn't really a lie. Seeing Dick suck face made her want to hurl.

Six subway stops later, she was following her phone's GPS back towards her house, wanting the quickest way back. All she wanted was to curl up in a ball and sleep for the next week.

"Stop— stop it!"

Babara's head whipped up from her phone, eyes straining to see in the darkness of Gotham. The costume's cape billowed around her in the wind, purple glinting in the moonlight. A flash of silver caught her eyes and then she made out two figures in the alleyway.

A smart person would turn and walk away. She was tired and just a kid, no real experience fighting off the mats.

But, the woman was screaming for help and Babs had some anger she needed to expel.

Launching forward, she tackled the guy to the ground, fist colliding with his jaw. The leather gloves she wore did little to soften the blow, but the large figure still flipped her off of him, both rolling to stand. She fell into ready position easily, fists high and feet spread. This was just like the spars in the dojo— except, the guy was a lot bigger than the teenagers she usually fought with and he had a knife Babs had only just noticed.

Using one hand to hold the knife away from her, she rammed her hand hard against his forearm, his fingers losing their grip and the blade falling to the ground. Punching him square in the jaw, Barbara watched in shock as he crumpled to the ground unconscious. Blinking, she reached for the thin rope hanging from her fake utility belt, tying his wrists tightly.

Standing, Babs turned towards the crying lady, surprised she hadn't run off. Her bracelet was broken on the ground, but other than that, she seemed . . . fine. A little hysterical, but fine.

"What— who— " The woman gasped, looking her up and down.

Barbara felt good— the summertime high she'd been on seemed like nothing compared to the adrenaline rushing through her. She opened her mouth to respond, about to answer the woman when her phone went off.

COMMISH

The Commissioner was texting, asking where she was. She never told him she was going to the party— figured she'd be back before he even got home. But now— now, she had knuckles that were surely going to bruise and a woman was crying in front of her. If she told him what happened, he'd never let her leave the house. When she was a kid, he was always preaching to her how dangerous it was to be a vigilante— to run from danger, not towards it. Granted, her stopped caring so much about what Barbara did in the past few years, but still. Barbara Gordon stopping a robbery wouldn't stay secret long.

Good thing she wasn't dressed like Barbara Gordon at the moment. The purple grease paint around her eyes suddenly felt like a really good idea.

"Who are you?" The woman breathed more evenly now, arms wrapped tightly around herself.

"I'm just, uh . . . a friend?" She winced internally, feeling like she'd just quoted the worst action movie of the decade.

The sound of sirens rang out in the distance, maybe five blocks away. She winced— the costume might've fooled the scared woman, but she doubted the cops wouldn't recognize her.

"I, uh, I've gotta go." She explained badly, double-checking that the thin nylon once apart of her costume was holding the crook in place. "Sorry about your necklace!"

She ran down the alleyway, ducking around a corner and down the street. She was close enough to her house to make it before the cops could even get a statement from the woman. Babs had gotten away.

Gotten away. God, she sounded like a criminal.

Criminal.

She'd just stopped a crime! Saved some woman! She was a savior!

It felt pretty great.

#dcu #dc #babs gordon #batgirl #barbara gordon #batman #robin #dick grayson

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bcntbouquet · 10 months ago

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“The only thing I fear… is losing interest. And I'm not even speaking of finances yet-” Brianna was gorgeous, a true catch, considering her status, and yet he found her every word—and even her every movement—to be irritating. Challenging. Just... weird.

"Please, allow me to be the first to advise you: Hold onto your inheritance, keep your money. Women need to be selfish in this era. You'll never get anywhere paying a man—Men who already make twice what women do. As for paying me, well, I make more than eight times what the average blue-collar American male makes, so, no, I don't need your money any more than they do. Besides, I have people who owe me favours, and I’d have one of those people fix your dress… That's work for a seamster or seamstress, not the most decorated investment banker in Gotham City."

“That tie—” Daz began to laugh, keeping things on the demure side. “Was a gift. From Thomas Wayne, no less. God rest his soul, you wouldn’t insult your dearly departed dad’s taste in neckwear, would you?”

Oh! Her careless words had been cause for offense and as a result, Wayne visibly recoils. With long lashes sheltering her dark eyes, gaze averted downwards, the heiress responds. "I did not mean to offer a rebuke, Mr. Pennyworth. That is not at all what I intended."

She sucks in a breath, and then dragging languidly her tongue along the curve of her lower-lip, she stumbles to find a way to amend her seemingly wounding words. "You look anxious, almost fearful." She pauses. "As if something is amiss." Again she pauses, treading more carefully this time. "It is not a statement as to your fashion nor your work. Were fashion first and foremost in my mind, I would have extended the invitation for you to fix my dress for the party at Wayne Manor tomorrow, for reasonable pay---"

"It is only your safety-- I considered." Wayne bashfully confesses. Internally, she prayed she had not over played her hand.

Then she clears her throat to distract and center herself more than anything outwardly helpful. "Seeing as you insisted upon my review of your fashion," Wayne more playfully proposed, "I shall give it." She does a small circle about his masculine form and hums in approval. "Everything is of the finest caliber. Except for that tie. It does you no favors... If I were you, I would get rid of it and let your shirt hang open a little more." Now, it is her turn to blush as she imagines the warmth of his skin being made bare to her eyes.

Alfred wordlessly chastized her with a disapproving sound in his throat.

#timeguardians #m; daz

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monkeebratz · 5 years ago

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Gotham Seamstress Marinette - Wayne Gala

I should sTILL BE UPDATING BIO!DAD BUT HERE I AM AGAIN

Initial Idea | Uncle Ozzy | Wayne Gala (you are here) |

So we have the whole Cobblepot Crew at the Wayne Gala. Mari is off wondering, scribbling away in a palm sized sketchbook all the ideas this beautiful place is giving her! (She smuggled it, along with Tikki and Sass, in her purse. Its a little crowded but they can snuggle.) Peri is following behind her quietly, smiling to herself. Not that anybody can see.

Meanwhile Gale and Ozzy have started talking to dear ol’ Brucie boy. At this point, its been a couple years since Ozzy has declared his vendetta and has calmed the fuck down. It also helps that Bruce is not suck a dick about things and Ozzy can relax the stuffy old Gothamite Socialite act around him. They get to talking and Bruce kinda chuckles about how he heard Oswald brought a plus one? Who’s the lucky lady? And he points out Mari, who’s slowly making their way back to the Cobblepot Crew with Peri gently steering her in that direction. And Bruce, dad of all dads, immediately sorta puffs up. “Oswald.”

“Eh? What, Brucie boy?”

“That’s your plus one? She can’t be any older than my youngest-”

“Oh, get your bird-brain out of the gutter! Just doing this as a little favor to the girl, she’s my favorite seamstress, y’know. Made me and the Girls outfits for this little soiree, her own dress too. Figured I’d get her some more... legitimate business, you see. Sweet songbird’s had a rough go, recently.”

And Bruce is even MORE side eye-ing bc wtf does all THAT mean, Cobblepot? Wtf? Should he be Batman concerned or Bruce Wayne concerned? There’ll be a full blown investigation in the Bat Cave when he gets home from this but for now he puts on a smile as Oswald introduces them. Mari is, of course, completely flustered. What an honor to meet Mr. Wayne himself! The Gala is so pretty, and she’s heard all about his charitable work, she’s such a fan!

Bruce is kinda blown away by this little French Sunshine Child and gives her the Father Smile, letting her ramble. Ozzy is preening bc hell yes, his Songbird has Bruce Wayne’s approval. Bruce asks about her designs for the Cobblepot Crew and commends her skills. Gets Mari out for a dance and then she’s dancing with everybody! Bruce, Ozzy, the Girls, even some strangers. Its a great time!

Bruce introduces Mari to Damien, who is unimpressed and bored out of his mind. He can appreciate the aesthetics of Mari’s designs but holds to the idea that she shouldn’t be so willing to design for criminals like The Penguin. Not that he says any of this out loud, of course. Offers to take Mari out for a dance and there’s a lot of Mari apologizing for being such a horrible dancer. (It was one thing with the Cobblepot Crew, who she knew didn’t mind, or Bruce, who seemed so nice. But Damien is sorta angry looking and she’s nervous as hell.) Damien tells her its no problem and manages to lead her around with minimal toe tromping.

BUUUUUT of course this couldn’t last, right? A certain blonde model boy notices Mari and breaks up their dance. In the middle of the dance floor. Like the oblivious boy he is.

And you have panicked French as Adrian grabs Mari’s arm and keeps going on about how glad he is to see her! Where has she been, doesn’t she know how worried everybody has been? Mari, how could she leave him like that? Really, he knew she was upset about the little mishap with their identities and his Father, but did she have to throw such a tantrum about it?

Marinette, meanwhile, is digging her nails into his wrist and trying to get him off of her, practically tripping on her dress in her haste to get away. Adrian still has a firm grip on her arm, though, and she falls back into Damien who, in perfect French, is asking what the hell does he think he’s doing Agreste? And Adrian puffs up and tells him that he doesn’t need to worry about it, its none of his business-!

(Mari stops panicking long enough to catch Ozzy’s eye and the Girls make their way over with extreme prejudiced. None of them notice Marinette grabbing something from Adrian’s finger and slipping it into her purse. Nobody but Damien.)

The Girls pull Adrian away from Mari and Damien and there have their claw hands out, making those upset bird coos. Adrian is kicking about and Bruce is getting an explanation from his son, while Ozzy is trying to comfort Marinette. Its a disaster.

And then. It gets worse. Because Gabriel fucking Agreste notices the commotion and his sons name attached to it and goes over to figure out what the hell is going on.

He grips the back of Adrian’s neck and shakes him a bit because he recognizes Mari and, of course, apologizes profusely for his behavior Miss Marin-

“Mari. Its... Its just Mari, now.”

And Gabriel just nods and apologizes again. “Miss Mari, then. I’m sure this incident will not affect our... agreement?” And Marinette shakes her head and Gabriel nods again and drags Adrian off to leave because not only is this embarrassing, this could jeopardize everything! You stupid, stupid boy!

Mari’s scrubbing tears away from her face and Bruce is apologizing profusely, he had no idea she knew the Agreste’s, or he’d have ensured they didn’t have to interact, and Mari tells him its fine, he couldn’t have known.

Ozzy bundles her up and takes her back to Arthur’s and seethes. The Agreste’s might be having a little accident soon. He drops her off and Mari shuts herself up in her room and slips on the ring and Plagg fizzes into existence and Tikki tackles him and its an emotional night for everybody.

Because you see, when Marinette has found out Gabriel and Adrian’s identities as Hawkmoth and Chat Noir, she’d panicked, and when she’d confronted Gabriel and learned why he was doing what he did... She helped him. Used her Guardian training, and Tikki, to fix the Peacock Miraculous, and heal Mrs. Agreste. In return, Gabriel gave her both the Butterfly and Peacock Miraculi back, saying good riddance as long as he had his wife back. Marinette agreed to keep this between them, as long as he worked to fixing the damage he’d caused, with the city, its people, and his family. And Gabriel has sworn to, less she go back on her own promise to ensure Mrs. Agreste’s health.

Adrian had, of course, figured out Marinette’s identity as Ladybug, and what she had done for his family, and gotten... worse. Not horrible, really, but gradually going from not taking her denial of his advances but becoming more and more pushy about it. Because of course they were meant to be together! And idk if any of you have ever dealt with men like this but its awful. Because Adrian doesn’t understand that what he’s doing is only scaring Mari, and the worse he gets, the more scared she gets. The more desperate to get away. And one day, when Fu names her the official Guardian, she does. She flees to Gotham and never looks back, because Fu remembers so little now, and her family had ignored how her love for Adrian had turned into fear. Everybody had.

So she left. And here she was.

(As far as the Fu thing goes, I haven’t watched season 3′s finale(s) so please don’t spoil them. The idea of Fu losing his memories has more to do with the fact that he’s almost 200 years old and the human body just isn’t made to last that long, magic or no magic. So he starts losing his memory and doesn’t always recognize Marinette so in a moment of clarity he passes the torch, unfinished training or not. Marianne comes to live with Fu and take care of him, remind him of things. They didn’t have their time in their prime, but they’ll take it now.)

Tag List! If you’d like to be added, please send me an ask! Just a little easier for me to keep track of that way, lol

@destinationdesignation @xxmadamjinxx @emjrabbitwolf @meg-chi @officiallyathiana @graduatedmelon @seraphichana (I’m so sorry I can’t figure out why it won’t tag you?) @theatreandcomicfreak @beaversuenightly @7701deathlyhalfbloodprincess

#miraculous ladybug #batman #maribat #gotham seamstress marinette au #oswald copplepot #kabuki twins #bruce wayne #marinette dupain cheng #adrian agreste #gabriel agreste #miraculous ladybug au #batman au #DUN DUN DUUUUUN

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glankles · 5 years ago

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Can we just give a round of applause to the costume designer for Gotham?! Whoever they are deserves a fucking medal because they didn't have to put so much effort into Oswald's suits but they DID. The last three seasons, his suits are IMPECCABLE. They fit him to a T, and that's coming from someone who works in costumes and is a seamstress. I know what a good suit is supposed to look like and THOSE are Good Suits™. The same goes for Edwards dark green suit when he was the mayors chief of staff, he looked so sharp and clean! Which tells me that they took the time to tailor the suits specifically to the actors! Their height and size comes into play here but also the fabrics they use, it's very unique and definitely not something they could've pulled out of a warehouse. The point of this whole rant is that the people who worked on Gotham did not have to put so much effort into making it look so good but they did and I will always be angry that they didn't receive more recognition!

#gotham #oswald cobblepot #edward nygma #nygmobblepot #costume design #seamstress #me #personal #ranting #ALSO if i got it wrong and they did receive awards for the costumes please let me know

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gothamgangbanger · 3 years ago

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talk about bruce wayne

warnings: cursing

summary: crime in gotham is at an all time high, and at the worst possible time you were photographed by the journalists with none other than bruce wayne. they just so happened to make your relationship status public. bruce doesn't trust you to be out alone but doesn't want the press to be anymore exhausting so he makes you wear some gear in case you get into trouble, what he didn't expect was how you talked about him. (1.6k words)

authors note: there was a tiktok audio i heard today and it made me think of this

“Is this really necessary? I’m just picking up my dress that you ripped.” You rolled your eyes and sighed after speaking as Bruce corrected the earpiece that you apparently had put in improperly.

“Look at me.” He ignored your question, leaning down to look into your eyes bouncing between the two of them.

“Yes because I am sure the seamstress’s shop is the center of crime.” Having half a mind to just turn around and walk away, you stood there knowing he wasn’t gonna let you leave without knowing that everything was properly placed.

“Is there something in your eye or am I walking in on something else?” Alfred peeped from around the corner and started speaking.

“No, Bruce just wants to play Spy Kids because I am going two blocks away. Soon I’m gonna be walking around with Batman chasing me everywhere I go.” You huffed turning on your heels as soon as he nodded his head and took his hand off of your face.

“Seems like you already do.” Alfred showed you the newspaper that had both of your faces front and center on the front cover.

“He’s never gonna leave the house again without his mask if they keep this up. Though that is actually a good picture.” You leaned over and spoke to Alfred smiling.

“Maybe we should cut it out and frame it.” You heard Bruce make noise in annoyance as you laughed and nodded at the man in the chair.

“Absolutely, perfect example, he’s scowling and I’m smirking.” You patted Alfred’s shoulder before standing up straight again, “I’ll be back in less than fifteen minutes so no one panic.” You put your hands up and walked towards and then out the door.

Walking down the street nothing abnormal was happening which was odd for Gotham but at least Bruce wouldn’t have a freakout, dress up, and run out to save you from anything. As you walked down the street you pulled your coat closer to your body as most of the people around you were looking at you up and down. Your nerves rose a bit as more eyes connected with yours or just simply your passing form.

As you crossed the street and stepped onto the other concrete sidewalk a voice echoed through your ear, “Can you hear me?”

You yelped to a point that it could almost be considered a scream before registering the voice, “Bruce, stop it.” you spoke in a hushed voice that was coated with sheer irritation, “Everyone is already looking at me the last thing I need is for people to think I’m talking to myself like a crazy person.”

You could hear him snicker a little as you picked up your footing not wanting a longer conversation or having to deal with eyes following you around.

Walking into the small shop right in the middle of many others a small bell rang from the door, without having to speak the woman behind the counter walked away into the back to get your belongings. There were other people in the small area just sitting around, some waiting on their garments to be done while others were sewing or stitching patterns into clothes. But everyone came to a halt when they recognized who you were. And anyone who didn’t get quickly informed.

“So you’re real?” One of the women waiting spoke to you.

“Yeah.” You spoke quickly trying to avoid conversation, shoving your hands into the thick pockets of your coat.

“Wow, the woman who wooed the trust fund prince. Never thought I’d see you without him, but then again he doesn’t really come out much.” She spoke again leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms.

“Wonder why.” You turned and spoke to her sarcastically as you shook your head hoping that she would recognize the fact that the moment you walked in you were being eyeballed and asked questions.

“We’ve never actually seen him until you popped up.” Another woman spoke up from the left side of the first woman who piped up.

You had no comment, there was no way in hell you were gonna be the reason for angry women in a dress shop at 11 o'clock in the morning.

“What color are his eyes?” Turning around again one of the seamstresses from behind you had asked an innocent question.

“I don’t know, he wears shades all the time, even in the house.” You weren’t lying, most of the time he acted like light scared him, clearly, they weren’t going to stop talking and you were in a tight space.

“Is he tall?” The woman whose blouse was being fixed asked the next question.

“I gotta look up.” You smirked and shrugged your shoulders. This could actually get interesting. You thought to yourself.

“Are you having fun?” Bruce spoke into your ear as you laughed a little to yourself.

“Well, I hear that he’s a bad guy.” The same negative Nelly from earlier decided to pipe up and put her input where it wasn’t needed yet again.

“He’s good-bad, but he’s not evil. More grumpy than bad.” Holding your smirk you thought about how much Bruce had to be hating this.

“Does he ever smile?” Before the rude woman could say anything else her seamstress asked you another question.

“Rare occasion but yes he does, especially-” Before you could finish your sentence Bruce spoke in your ear again, “If you’re thinking about finishing that sentence the way I think you are do not.”

“Especially at night, he’s not much for sleep.” You changed your original answer trying to stay as honest as possible. But adding a little wink that Bruce couldn’t see, but from the look on some of the women's faces he could probably figure it out.

“Y/n L/n?” The woman from the counter had come back from the back.

“Here you go.” You pulled the money from your pocket as it was latched with a golden keeper.

“That was quite a bad rip, luckily it was able to be completely fixed.” She smiled at you as you took the dress off the counter.

“Too much fun is never a bad thing, thank you so much.” You smiled back at her nodding as the women around you gasped and began to whisper amongst themselves.

Your walk home was almost identical to the walk there, but you were less concerned with everyone else’s reactions to your presence. You were more pleased with what you had just done, and you were happy to have your dress back. Opening the door you sat your dress down and took off your coat hanging it where it belonged.

“I’m back and alive.” You shouted as you saw no one from where you were taking off your shoes, picking the dress up again as you continued your walk through the manor.

“I hear you talk highly of Mr. Wayne while you’re out.” Alfred approached you first taking the dress from you, no matter how many times you told him that you could do simple tasks he never let you.

“Oh dear god, is he ready to kill me.” You laughed and walked with Alfred a bit concerned.

“I had to hold back laughter sitting there listening, you are quite swift when put on the spot.” He laughed a bit as you looked over at him wide-eyed.

“One of my many skills I must say.” As you finished your sentence Bruce stood next to all of his spy equipment staring at you. “The man of the hour looks happy.” You whispered to Alfred before he laughed quietly and walked away.

“Hello sweetheart, how are you?” You started the conversation by walking over to him not wanting to take the earpiece out incorrectly.

“Apparently I’m grumpy.” He mumbled as he stood cross-armed.

“You wouldn’t let me tell them when you’re not grumpy.” You retorted back turning your head to the side touching the top of your ear to signal for him to take out the annoying technology in your ear.

He placed a hand on the underside of your jaw as his other hand took the earpiece out with ease.

“Are you mad at me? You’re kind’ve hard to gauge emotion-wise.” Whispering you looked down at your feet like a little kid.

“No.” He spoke curtly but lifted your head up in his hands to look at him, his eyes were soft and so was his face. He wasn’t clenching his jaw or scowling, which were all good signs. “You talk about me often?”

“You always seem to pop up in conversation.” You smirked at him pretending to have to think about what he had asked.

“Clearly.” Keeping your face in his hands you expected him to take the contacts out of your eyes but instead, he leaned down and kissed you.

“You’re so mysterious people don’t even know what color your eyes are.” You put a hand on his chest and laughed, putting your head down a little bit.

“You know what color they are. That’s good enough for me.” Bruce played into your laughing and joking around.

“Don’t worry, you heard me, I didn't tell on you.” The two of you laughed together as you stood there in close contact, “I’ll never tell on you.”

“I know.” With that being said he pulled you into a hug making you put your arms around his body and lean into the sound of his heartbeat. He might’ve been a grumpy man who wore sunglasses inside the house but he was your grumpy man who wore sunglasses in the house and that was made clear in photos and now to whoever those women in the dress shop spoke to…

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