I Think If Danny Was A Member Of The YJ Wally Would Get A Handle Added To The Back Of His Costume So

I think if danny was a member of the YJ wally would get a handle added to the back of his costume so danny can just grab on turn them both intangible and dangle behind him like a balloon whilst KF races straight through every obstacle in his path. Utterly unstoppable

spider pronouns it/ze/bit/xe

Is Maddie fenton's name also a pun? How am I just now realizing that one of the Mad scientist parents who do science about DEAD things is named 'MAD-DIE'.

When Multimouse Snaps.

1 | in which Tim Drake tries to propose to the PA

Part 1 of No Mr. Wayne You Can't Adopt Me! | Masterlist

Bruce tried not to flinch as he sat down on his swiveling chair. He had twisted his ankle from pursuing Penguin's goons the previous night but had to cover it up for work. Sure, he was used to hiding injuries and slipping into his CEO persona, but that didn't mean his muscles weren't sore and beat-up. 

Just in time, his PA entered the office, carrying a stack of folders and a hot mug of coffee. "Here are the partnership offers I filtered from the initial pile." She placed the papers atop his desk. "I've also noticed that there is a defect in the new prototype of the research department that they are yet to attend to." 

Bruce frowned. "But isn't the demo and meeting for it scheduled today?" 

"Yes, that's why I've convinced the head supervisor to push it back to next week after they deal with the defect," Marinette reported. "I've also postponed the investors meeting to tomorrow since there was a delay in the materials." 

She lowered her voice as if relaying a secret. "I noticed you have difficulty walking today, Mr. Wayne. With your modified schedule, all your work can be done here at your desk. If there's other legwork to do, I'll take care of it." 

Somehow, in perfect timing, Marinette always managed to accommodate the times when he was injured. Bruce didn't know if he was getting bad at hiding it because of his old age or if the girl's intuition was just crazy sharp. Maybe it was both. He cleared his throat. "Thank you, Marinette. I appreciate it." 

She opened up the first folder in front of him and transferred the mug to an electric warmer. "Another skiing accident?" 

"Not as bad this time. Just a twisted ankle." 

Next, she lowered the blinds just to allow just a peek of the sunlight and prepared a snack tray on a circular table beside his desk. Bruce never communicated the particulars about his preferences and he wasn't actually picky about his office space (unlike his son-slash-co-CEO). But this PA of his, just somehow knows. Like Alfred-levels of expertise. It creeped him out a little if he were to be honest. 

She clasped her hands behind her back. "Anything else, Mr. Wayne?" 

"None at the moment, thank you." 

She raised an eyebrow. 

. . . Which drew out a sigh from him. "Fine. Can you maybe help limit Tim's caffeine intake today? He had too many cups last night and he didn't listen when I told him to take the time off today." 

"Of course, I'll do that right away." She nodded in satisfaction. 

When she left, Bruce pulled up a tab on his computer to search for the legal documents, wondering if there was etiquette about an employer legally adopting their employee. 

***

Marinette entered the office of Tim Drake after receiving a greeting from Tam at her desk beside the door. The young PA kept her hands behind her back as she approached the boy who was glued to his computer screen. Upon closer look, she could see the heaviness under his eyes, accentuated by the dark circles on his pale skin. 

"I looked into your request of acquiring a commission piece from M.D.C.," Marinette told him. 

There was only a slight shift in his exhausted expression—a downturn of the mouth—before his scratchy voice replied. "I thought they don't accept commissions anymore." 

"Yes, but I re-visited our correspondence and apparently they still make pieces for selected clients." She took a deep breath. "And I got you an in." 

The clicking of the mouse suddenly paused, followed by the widening of Tim's red-rimmed eyes. He practically crawled out of his seat to kneel before Marinette to take her hand in his. "Please marry me." 

Marinette gently pulled away. "Sorry, Mr. Drake, my contract with Mr. Wayne prohibits me from marrying or getting into a relationship with any of his children." 

"Why?!" Tim cried out.

"Perhaps he precisely predicted this kind of situation." She smiled apologetically. "And by my guess, I think he wants to adopt me first and not marry into the Wayne family." 

Not that she actually wanted to be the newest addition to her boss' family. 

With a pout, Tim retreated back to his chair while muttering about Bruce's adoption addiction. But in a second, he brightened up once more as he seemingly remembered the new opportunity he gained with M.D.C. "I have to compile my requests for the clothes!" He furiously tapped at his keyboard.

Marinette's heart went out for Tam. It looked like Tim wasn't getting proper work done that day again. 

"I will forward the list to M.D.C. as soon as it's ready," she assured. 

And while the co-CEO was immersed in researching designs in his half-conscious state, Marinette brought out the mug from behind her back and exchanged the coffee on his desk with decaf: a custom brew which was guaranteed to help him sleep for the afternoon. 

In triumph, she exchanged thumbs-ups with Tam through the glass window of the office. 

***

Marinette kept a watchful eye on Bruce's office to keep anyone from entering and disturbing the boss. But when she peeked into the room to deliver more files to him, she saw Bruce facing the open window and talking softly with Superman himself, who was at the other side of the glass. 

Fortunately, neither of them seemed to notice her. She closed the door slowly and leaned her back against it, wondering if she should be guarding the door with her life. At the strike of bad luck, one of the company executives was heading straight towards the direction of the office. 

He shot her a look as she blocked the way. Head to toe. "Mr. White," she greeted slowly.

"I have some papers Mr. Wayne must sign urgently." He narrowed his eyes. 

"Sorry." She forced out a smile. "Mr. Wayne is a little . . . preoccupied at the moment. Why don't I take those papers off your hands and I'll have him sign them later?" 

The executive clutched the stack tightly as if it were some precious treasure. "No, I need to have them signed now. If you can let me in, I'm sure Mr. Wayne won't mind a short interruption." 

He stepped to the side but she moved in his way just as swiftly. Marinette sighed inwardly. This is beyond my paycheck. And judging by how White went here on his own, it must be some fund-farming project proposal Mr. Wayne would never agree to. 

"Get out of my way!" He cried out. "Who do you think you are?!" 

"I apologize, but Mr. Wayne is meeting an important guest. Under no circumstances must he be disturbed," she told him firmly. "I'm certain the papers can wait. He's not going anywhere." 

"Listen here," Mr. White spat out. "I have more authority over you. You will do as I say right now!" 

"Mr. White—"

"I will tell Mr. Wayne how incompetent you are! Rude to company executives! How dare you speak to me like this?!" Marinette stared with disinterest as his neck turned red and his forehead threatened to pop a vessel. 

"What is going on here?" 

Marinette felt the door open behind her to reveal Bruce, looking at White with clear exasperation. What she didn't expect was a bespectacled man emerging from behind her boss clad in business clothes. 

"Mr. Wayne!" The executive squeaked. "I need you to sign these—"

"Did you not hear my PA?" Bruce punished him with a cold look. "I was receiving a guest. And you had the nerve to cause a commotion right outside my office." 

"But—" 

"Leave. Now." 

Mr. White scurried away, tail between his legs, as other passing employees whispered to each other. Marinette stepped aside to give way to the two men. 

Bruce cleared his throat. "Thank you for your time, Clark. I'll get back to you soon." 

Superman—Clark—responded with a nod and a gentle smile before excusing himself out of the area. Marinette watched his back whilst he left. If anyone looked more attentively, they'd notice that the button-up and slacks Clark was wearing was too tight for his size, pointing to the fact that they were Bruce's and not his. 

"Marinette, if you can keep quiet about . . ." Bruce trailed off, face twisting as he tried to pick his words carefully. She, of course, would know that no guest had entered his office despite Clark Kent exiting it only a few moments ago. 

"Don't worry, Mr. Wayne. I won't tell anyone about your affair with Mr. Kent," she promised before walking back to her desk. 

"Thank you . . . Wait, my what?"