My Most Referenced Meme Is Actually This Sign From A Furniture Store's Going Out Of Business Sale In

70% of the time tim drake is one of the greatest liars on the planet, even able to trick batman

the other 30% goes something like this:

dick: hey tim do you smell something burning?

tim: …no

dick:

dick: tim—

tim: i have no clue what you’re talking about

dick: tim i can see the oven on fire

tim: what’s an oven

in remembrance of that anon that i tragically lost, here are some recs for THE most underutilised duo in the batfam. i could write ridiculously long essays about the tragedy of these two characters, and how they could become something great, if dc would get a grip a let tim grow up, preferably in the next decade. no complaints about damian. he is perfect.

this is also a cry for HELP. PLEASE write more big brother tim fics i am literally on the verge of collapsing as i ask. he is so unprepared but well meaning big brother so let him carry out his duty towards damian and duke PLEASE.

right then, anyways:

TIM AND DAMIAN FIC RECS ON AO3

miles and miles (in their shoes) by JUBE514

Where is Damian? Why can’t he see anything clearly? Where is the little brat? Damian had been by him in the cave when everything had exploded, they had been arguing like always when the two of them had gotten the punishment to go clean the trophy room, stop yelling at each other, stop being at each other's throat for two minutes and go clean the goddamn trophy room-

They had been cleaning, got into another knock out drag out argument, and it had come so close to blows and they had been screaming more than cleaning and-

The stupid fucking shoe, in the magical section- exploded out-

--

Tim and Damian switch bodies, the two of them realize exactly why the other does the things they do.

MY NOTES: i know body swap aus can be a little worrying, but this is a phenomenal fic on not just the complicated relationship between tim and damian, but also their own individual struggles and how that brings them closer together in an unspoken yet profound way. a must read if you appreciate the characters in their entirety.

Biphasic Reaction by renecdote

People may have allergic reactions all the time and be fine, but they can also die from them. He has a flash of sudden, morbid curiosity about what the exact statistics for fatal allergic reactions are.

MY NOTES: secretly protective big brother tim u mean the world to me. they are so fun in this, even with the medical emergency occurring alongside the sillies.

i only sink deeper (the deeper i think) by call_me_steve

Drake clicks his tongue and tilts his head off to the side. “This really isn’t as fun as I thought it would be.”

Oh, really? Damian starts furiously finger spelling, just to be annoying. You know, I thought the floating platforms would be of the utmost excitement.

“I caught a solid half of that and I think you’re making fun of me.” Drake goes to shift before remembering that he can’t - his face beneath his domino contorts into something unpleasant. “My legs are falling asleep, dude.”

You move, signs Damian, for real this time, and I go under.

“You talk,” Drake shoots back. “And I go under."

MY NOTES: it wouldn't be a real saki fic rec post without at least one kidnapped and almost dying in order to escape fic. i think about the conversation about love and danger at least once a week at random intervals and do not know how to be normal about it. at all.

The Wound Begins to Bleed by audreycritter

Now that Tim’s moved back to the manor, he just wants a few afternoons a week without Damian around.

Funny how getting that was the catalyst for him becoming a better big brother.

MY NOTES: okay so maybe i've read this a billion times and maybe it's my favourite tim and damian fic ever to exist but isn't that just proof you need to read it too? such a real fic. so personal. can't think of anything else but u must read it

picture perfect memories by Fandom_Trash224

“I… require assistance with something. I believe you are best-suited for it.”

Tim raises an eyebrow, but motions for the younger boy to enter his room. As Damian does, he slowly closes the door behind him, and Tim notices a small piece of what Tim assumes to be paper in Damian’s hand. Then, he realizes it’s not just a piece of paper: it’s a photo.

Damian approaches Tim, holding out the photo at arm’s length once he’s close enough to do so, saying, “I would like you to explain this photo to me.”

Tim glances down at it, and to both his surprise and mild horror, he recognizes the photo.

MY NOTES: oh... oh. Oh i am on the ground dead forever. damian and tim bonding over the shared fact that they got a version of bruce they'll never, ever meet. finding a common ground in grieving something they never had. oh.... how marvelous.

The Study of Birds by MaskoftheRay

Tim and Damian have hated one another since the day that the youngest Wayne arrived in Gotham City. A few years later, that hatred has cooled into a mutual disdain and somewhat-wary tolerance. If necessary, they can even work together— though neither likes to. Then Tim discovers that Damian enjoys bird-watching too.

Or: sometimes the difficult things are the most rewarding.

MY NOTES: truly something so special about stories where tim and damian find comfort and something to cherish in animals. a middle ground born from compassion and empathy perhaps. so sweet.

Harmonies of the Multiverse

THEME

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

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

The equinox meant facing the demons of his past.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Daminette Headcanon #??

Meet cute/meet disaster opportunity in Gotham. So Marinette is new to the city, and her stash of fabric and notions is completely depleted because she had to downsize when moving across the Atlantic (she had way too much stuff to ship with her.) So she's trying to find Gotham's fabric district which does exist... but it's frequented mainly by villains or henchpeople who need fabric for their costumes. Otherwise, everyone just buys online. Marnette though needs to see her stuff in person, needs to feel the fabric and test stretch and shit. So she's struggling down the street burdened by like five bags and a whole bolt of fabric and Damian (overachiever that he is) is doing an early evening patrol as Robin, and sees this little slip-of-nothing girl walking out of a fabric store that is definitely only frequented by villains and is a front for a local gang, and thinks 'oh, this is a new villain and/or she's being blackmailed to create new outfits' and so he prepares to swing down and interrogate her. Now Marinette, total badass that she is, can handle herself (yes, all her friends and family told her she shouldn't move to Gotham, but she's a hero too and Gotham ain't got shit on Hawkmoth) and she knows this isn't the best part of town, but it's the only place that has fabric stores, and the prices are really good so of course, she's gonna stock up. She knows she looks like an easy target but she is not. But bad guys don't know that, so a pair of idiots come up to her on the street and start harassing her and trying to rob her. One goes to hit her, and she totally backhands them and then knocks them both out flat in under 30 seconds. Not a hair out of place and all of her purchases are still safe and sound. And Robin is shocked up above (and kinda turned on) and is now definitely thinking that this girl is the newest up-and-coming supervillain, and he hears her mutter, "these fools have nothing on Paris." And so he swings down, intrigued, and wanting to know who this new danger is. He doesn't want to be too sus at first though and asks if she's fine (Richard would be proud of how far he's come at interpersonal skills) Of course, Marinette knows who the local heroes are (she doesn't want to step on anyone's toes after all) and so is very friendly at first, and basically says, "I'm okay and don't need any help, after all, you don't survive long in Paris if you can't handle yourself, but it's nice to know Gotham's heroes are looking out." And Robin doesn't know if that's meant to be a threat or sincere. And so he offers to walk her home because that's what a hero would do with a normal civilian right?? Not one that he was trying to gauge what their notorious schemes are, right?? But Marinette easily agrees, and in her mind, is just happy to get a read on the local heroes, and just chats with Robin the whole way home about Gotham and what amazing styles she can get from its local design and architecture. And Damian is so?? confused??? Is this girl an artist? IS she a villain artist?? What kind of schemes are going to happen here. And so he obviously has to know more about this amazi- he means potentially dangerous woman, and so when he sees her safely home asks to maybe, visit? Again? And Marinette is all like 😁😁 Sure, happy to help Gotham's heroes however she can. Damian is like 'perfect, I have managed to open a line of inquiry into a potential threat, now I just need to visit often- I mean monitor her carefully to figure out her plans' and Marinette is just like, 'The Gotham heroes are much more welcoming than I thought they would be. I got fabric, beat up some baddies, and made a new friend all in one evening!'

Their falling in love is kinda inevitable.

for the fic title game, 'you're the ghost of your predecessors'?

OKAY so I know a lot of people will be thinking like Tim or Damian for this one, and I get it. I get it. But Steph. Fic with Steph focusing on her sense of identity and how it's always been tied so closely to other people. First, her father, as Spoiler. Next, as Robin, everyone that came before her—Dick, Jason, Tim. Wanting so desperately to be her own Robin—good like they were, but in her own way, but at every turn she was condescended to, compared, disrespected, and just couldn't be her own Robin.

Then there was Batgirl, and Batgirl was a breath of fresh air. Batgirl wasn't under Bruce’s jurisdiction any more than Oracle was—Batgirl wasn't Robin. But, but, but. As Batgirl, she had to be as smart as Babs, as strong as Cass, and as kind as the both of them. As Batgirl, the load to be as good as her predecessors was one she put on herself, to prove their trust in her wasn't misplaced or misguided. Another mantle, more legacies to uphold.

Then, fast forward a bit, and she's Spoiler again. And Spoiler was created to spoil her father's plots and get him in jail, but, well, he's been in jail for around three years now, and with the strings she's sure were tugged, he's not getting out any time soon. And, she- Spoiler is hers. Nobody's but hers. And she doesn't know how to feel about having a title that's just hers.

She's still got the weight of Robin and Batgirl on her shoulders, but maybe this is one she doesn't mind bearing. She's a ghost of her predecessors, but it doesn't sound so negative now. Maybe she can live with that.

She's a reflection of everyone that's come before her, and that isn't too bad. Dick's determination, Jason’s compassion, Tim's crazy-smart kindness, Cass' strength, Babs' intelligence. Bruce’s paranoia.

Damian has your bravery, Tim tells her once, and she almost breaks down sobbing. She can be a ghost of her predecessors, if that means those that come after her will be a ghost of her too.

Editing next week's episode of the podcast, and I noticed we introduced our guest as having a PhD from Notre Dame.

At the time, I thought nothing of it, because usually when one says that, it's understood that you mean the university in Indiana, and that is in fact the case here -- she has a PhD in Medieval Studies from the University of Notre Dame, the one in Indiana.

But, as we all know, Notre Dame just means "Our Lady" -- i.e., Mary -- and so lots of things are named that, especially when Catholics are doing the naming.

There are of course other educational institutions called "Notre Dame". When I was growing up, we were all aware of the nearby "College of Notre Dame of Maryland" -- not because of any particular prestige the college possessed, but because its initials spelled CoNDoM, which is a very funny thing to happen to a Catholic institution.

I double-checked this when making this post, and apparently they changed their name to "Notre Dame of Maryland University" in 2011 after over a century of being called CoNDoM.

But you could iterate this idea into absurdity.

There is of course the cathedral:

"Yes, I have a PhD from Notre Dame." "Oh, the one in Indiana?" "No, the one in Paris. You know, Quasimodo and all that." "I didn't know they granted degrees." "Well, it's honorary."

A variety of just... places:

"Yes, I have a PhD from Notre Dame." "Oh, the one in Indiana?" "No, Notre Dame Bay. In Newfoundland." "Um..." "The Lady of the Bay, her arm clad in the purest shimmering samite, held aloft a sheepskin from the bosom of the water, signifying by divine providence that I was an expert in my field."

And, naturally, the original:

"Yes, I have a PhD from Notre Dame." "Oh, the one in Indiana?" "No, Notre Dame. Our Lady. Mary, Mother of God." "Sorry, what?" "She appeared to me in a vision and said I had a doctorate now." "I wasn't aware her authority extended to the granting of terminal degrees." "You want to tell her that?"

...this whole post is just such nonsense. Maybe that fever hasn't really dissipated yet.

I don't think this one deserves them, no.

Maribat Secret Santa 2022

is it late... yes

did it grow out of control and need a part 2... also yes

but without further ado for my secret santa recipient @intercoursefluids

In Every Lifetime

~~~~~~~~~~

Life after life, death after death, whether they would find each other or not they knew the other was searching for them land, sea, or even the skies for them. Their dreams a guiding light to one another. The powers and magic practiced and hidden in order to protect them. After centuries they learned they would always share a birthdate, which in the newer ages of technology made it slightly easier to find one another, if there weren't so many more people now, and the gods never made it easy for them. But reincarnations are both a blessing and a curse.

•••

"Please don't take her!" He begged clutching her limp lifeless form, still warm despite knowing otherwise.

The two gods stared at him, watching him, waiting. They were the final two, creation and destruction, to choose their vessels. Yet here they were watching silently this mournful event unfold.

The boy reached for a sheathed sword. "I will find who did this and they will pay." He grit out, tears of rage and sadness rolled down his face.

"The price, if you are willing to pay it, is an expensive one." The god of destruction offered, as they finally appeared before the boy.

"Who are you." The boy's eyes flicked between the two of them.

"You humans really are a suspicious bunch."

"What Plagg is trying to say is we want to make a deal with the two of you." The goddess, Tikki, responded.

"The... two..." He looked to his side where the spirit of the girl in his arms, sat beside him. "What deal do you propose?" The boy didn't look at them, but at the spirit at his side.

"We want to use the two of you as vessels." Plagg stated bored. "Thus, the two of you will reincarnate."

"Then why say the price shall be expensive." He asked the two gods, finally turning away from the girl.

Tikki was the one who answered. "Because you may or may not meet one another in each lifetime. But if you do you will loose one another time and time again."

"If that is the cost I..." The boy looked over at the girl again, who nodded. "We are willing to pay it."

"We the kwamii, gods of creation and destruction, imbue the both of you with our powers. You shall reincarnate time and time again, and we will watch over you to aid your existence.”

•••

He had a mission to complete, but these annoying dreams would not let him rest.

He watched as a girl his age rushed around a palace of sorts. They weren't unsettling, just peculiar, almost as if he were witnessing her life.

It wasn't until he reached the palace that was constantly in his dreams that he understood them. Granted if he listened to that annoying voice in his ear he might have figured it out sooner. The roads he travelled became familiar, faces and places as well.

That's when he noticed her, a daughter of a feudal lord, his target. She turned and their eyes connected.

Their past flashed behind his eyes.

His mission forgotten and forfeited.

"Wǒ de tài yáng." Her smile was as bright as in the previous life they shared.

"Wǒ de yuè liàng." He whispered in response. Public appearance the only reason the both of them restrained themselves from jumping into each other’s arms.

It wasn't until the night covered the sky that he dared find her again.

"I was hoping you'd come, Hēi Māo." she watched him a soft smile ever present.

"Piáo Chóng, I promise in this life and every life to come I will find you no matter what." He held her close, whispering into her hair.

"And I you. If you promise to lead me to you in your dreams." He nodded into her not wanting to let her go.

"Only if you do the same."

Their peace didn’t last long. It only took a single cycle of the moon for the guards to realize that someone was constantly coming into the palace after dark. The guards stormed in and dragged him away from his beloved.

He heard her cries and screams trying to come back to him. But he constantly kept getting dragged further and further, her voice becoming softer and softer in the distance.

That is until he heard her footsteps, felt her soothing presence of her newly present magic near him.

"I can’t lose you again. I won’t."

In that moment they both knew they would take their lives, knowing that they’d find each other in the next.

But until then they wouldn’t fear the dark so long as they had each other.

The poison vials that Hēi Māo kept on his belt broke in each of their mouths, the guards to shocked to stop them.

The little voices that rang in their heads spoke out.

Find each other in your next life as you will always be reincarnated together.

•••

The gods did not favor mortals, less their children. But that was not here nor there.

She was abandoned by her parents, an affinity for magic caused them to fear godly retribution. They feared she was a child of Hades, because when she was born jewels materialized on her ears.

The fact of the matter was quite different. She knew, she wasn't of godly descent. She was something else.

So, they left her, a hunter of Artemis later found her. Where she was raised with the Amazons until she joined the hunt.

By then she knew she was able to draw upon the power of beings called kwamii, specifically the spirit inhabiting her jewelry. At least that is what Tikki calls herself. She knows that Tikki isn't telling her everything, but she knows there must be a reason.

She travelled with the goddess of the hunt until a fated day.

The battle was bloody, both sides lost lives. She was the oldest of the hunters there at the moment, she saw them as her younger sisters. When she noticed the volley of arrows heading towards them.

And that’s when the world shook the only thought on her mind her sisters.

To protect Artemis, the hunters, the Amazons that that raised her, that became her family.

She decided to sacrifice herself in order to protect everyone she cared for. In a matter of seconds, the magic exploded from her, disintegrating the arrows creating a veil that stopped the enemy forces from attacking.

she had never used so much magic at once. So much so, she know that it cost her, her life. But she also knew that she would do it again each and every single one of her lives.

She reached up to her ears and plucked the jewels from them. Artemis tentatively stepped forward.

"Amira." The goddess finally reached her. She was kneeling on the ground knowing full well she could not stand up, even if she wanted to. She was a warrior, but even she knew when she shouldn't push her mortal body further.

Amira raised her hand and placed the jewels into the hand of Artemis.

A much smaller, almost looking like a little ladybug, the kwamii of creation appeared to them.

"The world still needs ladybug at this time. Artemis goddess of the hunt, this is my jewel find a worthy warrior until the day comes that we shall reincarnate."

"You are a Kwamii, meaning you are a miraculous." She looked between both of them. "That is understood being of creation." she held the jewels closer. "Amira, my sister, until we meet again." Silver tears fell onto the goddess's face.

•••

She led armies, she sacrificed her entire being for her country.

But this, this was not what she hoped for.

Here she was shackled and ridiculed. Escorted to the gallows like a criminal.

"Joan of Arc, you are charged with being a witch and heretic. How do you plead?"

Head held high she stared at the man condemning her to her death. "No matter my response, you will have my head."

"The price for your insolence is your death."

She was promptly grabbed and pushed down. She heard the executioner raise his axe. So, she stared forwards, meeting a pair of emerald, green eyes.

Memories flashed behind her mind. Moments of blissful joy, unending sorrow, life and death entwined in a never-ending cycle of pain and happiness.

In that second, she finally understood those words spoken those many centuries before. It truly was an expensive price to pay.

"Mon Sol." She whispered, seeing her other half realize it at the same time.

"Mi Luna." She saw him month, seconds before her life ended.

They would always be destined to watch one another die, over and over.

•••

Centuries have passed. She and the others have fought wars. Seen the rise and fall of various civilizations.

But nothing stops the pain she feels every time either she or her sun dies. They may not meet in every life, but they know that they will find one another.

•••

Marinette was a normal girl, well normal-ish. (Tikki had learned to hide herself, among her chosen's families belongings, instead of appearing suddenly.)

Ever since she was small she knew she was different.

She's known since the little goddess Tikki told her when she was five. However, she's known since before. The goddess had always been with her, but she had a magic no one else seemed to notice. Although her luck skewed badly.

But the most intriguing was the boy she constantly saw in her dreams. Because of him she took several martial arts which she excelled in naturally. She quickly got bored of them as she rose through the ranks quickly. In the end she stuck to gymnastics and fencing.

But it wasn't until her tenth birthday it all came to a head.

Her Nonna took her on a trip to visit some friends in the United States.

They were in Gotham and were going to meet a friend named Alfred, but first dinner. Unfortunately, that was pushed back a bit.

She felt an all to familiar pull, but this time it was stronger, so she followed it.

She ran out of the restaurant when her Nonna's attention was off of her. Marinette ran following the pull that seem to be leading her somewhere deeper into the city. She doesn’t know what this pull was or why it constantly seems to pull her in different directions. All she knew was that she should follow it in this moment.

She doesn’t know how long she ran for, it might not have been long at all actually, but one thing she knows is she just ran into a fight.

The much younger of the two raised a sword to man who was fallen on the ground, but that’s when a third arrived. Nightwing, if she remembers correctly, kicked the younger boy which threw his sword into the air, which he then caught.

"The psychos just keep getting younger." The masked vigilante commented.

But her attention was on the boy, the force almost unbearable now pulling her to the boy, but she wouldn’t move. In this match between the two, the boy was completely blinded by anger, Nightwing attempting to subdue him. Snarls and insults, comments being hurled as the two fought, but she couldn't hear.

The boy looked around trying to find an opening, trying to find anything, and that's when he found her. They’re eyes met and he stopped. The blinding anger faded from him as he froze watching her.

And she knows what was going on in his mind. Because the same was happening to her, all the memories of their past lives, every interaction the two ever had was laid out for their minds to see.

But that give Nightwing the opportunity that he needed.

"Mon sol." Was barely audibly whispered and she was again frozen in her tracks.

Nightwing however never once noticed her, seeing as his back was turned to her a majority of the time, and is now presently. Her and was promptly tied up, gagged, and then hung from the light pole like a piñata. And unfortunately, Nightwing still hasn’t noticed her, as he started a call on speaker.

"Talk." A gravely monotone voice answered.

"Missing something?" Nightwing asked, annoyance and disbelief clear in his voice.

"Not in the mood for games." Came the response on the phone.

"I have a kid here." Nightwing paused looking up at the boy hanging in the air. "Says he's your son."

"I'll be right there."

The call ended, And Nightwing finally seemed to look around, thus noticing her.

He froze, and more than likely for good reason. Marinette knows that he doesn’t know how long she’s been there, if from the beginning, or if she just arrived, or if she’s heard the entire conversation. She stood there quietly staring between the vigilante, the man unconscious on the ground, and her soulmate strung up in the air.

She didn’t say a word Nightwing straighten himself up and took a step towards her. She instinctively took a step back, still reeling from the events that just flipped through her mind and the fight she had just witnessed.

Oddly enough that’s exactly when a few others showed up. First was the Batman, who went towards the other two.

Nightwing stepped in front of her blocking them.

That is when her Nonna finally found her.

"My little faerie, what are you doing? I turned around and you were gone." Her Nonna began to scold her. Marinette barely processing what is being told said to her.

"Sorry I..." The words got stuck in her throat, not knowing what actually say. "I don’t know what happened?"

It was a lie she knew it was a lie, but there was truth in it. She didn’t know why she was pulled when she started to run, but now she did. She doesn’t know why she stayed, when she could just easily turn around, instead of listening to the conversation.

"Miss?"

Nightwing again approached the two of them blocking her view of the Batman and her sol.

"Thank you for making sure she is safe. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t been here." Her Nonna began to thank Nightwing. Not noticing noticing the man on the ground with a blade near him.

Nightwing looked unsure of how to proceed, as if wanting to ask Marinette more but not knowing if he should. He looked towards Marinette, and she gently shook her head, a signal to him not to say a thing.

"Thank you Monsieur Nightwing. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you didn’t arrive on time." She looked up at him her eyes big, a small smile on her face, acting slightly saved as ice and memories swarmed her.

"Nightwing." The Bat's voice sounded from behind them the man, previously on the ground, cuffed sirens heard approaching.

"Right. Be careful the both of you Gotham is dangerous."

With that Nightwing turned and walked towards the Bat.

She tried to find a boy again but couldn’t. She assumes that he is inside the Batmobile but isn’t completely sure. She’s turned and was led away from the scene until they reach the restaurant, her appetite gone, mind racing.

"My little Faerie?" Her Nona pulled her attention. "Don’t forget you’re to meet my friend, and his family."

"Right Nonna."

---

The entire car ride back to the manner was silent.

His blind anger and vengeance no longer consumed his mind.

His qamari was here. In this very city. But he knew he couldn't escape this place twice in the same night.

So, he stood silently watching the fake son receive stitches, by his father‘s butler, Pennyworth. It wasn’t until then that he noticed, the ever present familiar soul, the way he moved, the energy that he radiated, it was like his own.

In that moment he clenched his always gloved hands. A ring has been embedded into his skin and with it an annoying little presence called a Kwamii, named Plagg. Because of his constant company, the small pocket god destruction, enhanced Damian's abilities, greater than the League expected from him.

Fortune always seems to be in his favor, Plagg said it’s because he lacked it, today he realized what Plagg had meant. He was a reincarnation, he was a miraculous, just like Pennyworth seems to be.

They were talking but he wasn’t exactly keeping pace with their conversation.

"Are you all right Master Dick?" The fake grimaced before answering.

"I took the cut; I can take the stitch."

"Maybe you need more anesthetic." He didn’t mean to say it, it’s not that he actually cared about him, he just didn’t want to see him in pain anymore, pain he caused.

"And maybe you need to find..."

"Master Dick!" Pennyworth cut the fake son off.

He was going to say something else I stopped himself.

"The Blood Sun." He whispered back, the empty cave allowing the two men down below to hear him.

"Blood thirsty, more like it." He heard the fake say.

He didn’t deny it, he knew it was true.

In every life he had blood was stained on his hands. And nothing he says or does can change that. He clenched his every loved hand feeling the cold metal of the ring burn into his skin. But he turned and walked away.

He went up to the room that was prepared for him, sat in the middle of the bed back pressed up against the headboard, and began to meditate.

Well in reality he was speaking with Plagg. Now that his memories were unlocked he would be able to tell him more, but did he really want to hear it is the question.

"Well, this was earlier than ever before." A nasally voice almost cackled in front of him.

"Tt. I realize that but why? Why did I never notice she was so close?" the asked aloud.

"You know the answer kid. You were so blinded by your rage and hatred and the need for vengeance, you blocked everything else. You blocked her until she could no longer be blocked from you. You blocked the other miraculous who has been trying to help you since you got here. What else is there to say?"

"But I didn’t mean to." He was being to tear, voice caught in his throat, as a single line from his past seemed to hold him. "I promised I would always find her, but I didn’t even try in this life." His tears fell onto his cheeks, Plagg not knowing what else to do. Simply curled up into a ball on the top of his head.

"You did your best kid with what you were given, don’t hesitate to be happy. To be a kid for once."

"But…"

"No buts." with that the two sat in comfortable silence.

A knock was at the door and Pennyworth slowly opened it. Plagg disappeared from this plane.

"We are to have guests over tonight Master Damien. If you would be so gracious to appear tonight."

He nodded. Pennyworth was closing the door when his curiosity finally couldn’t be restrained.

"Pennyworth." The man looked back in. "You are miraculous, aren’t you?"

Upon hearing this a sly smile appeared on the older man’s lips.

"As are you, although that took longer for you to realize than I expected." With that Pennyworth left the room.

But he knew she was still near him.

He got dressed in more civilian attire and went down, mostly following Pennyworth's energy signature. He went down and ended up in the kitchen where he saw Pennyworth preparing a cake. Damian never once said it was his birthday, he doesn't believe it’s anyone else in the house, so deduction must mean that it’s for the people who are visiting.

"Who are we to celebrate?"

The older gentleman looked up and simply answered him in kind.

"The granddaughter of a friend who is visiting today. I expect you to be on your best behavior understood Master Damian."

"Only if the fake acts accordingly."

That’s when he noticed a plain vanilla cake with pink buttercream and strawberries.

"She likes to have strawberries with dark chocolate."

He doesn’t know why he said it, it probably made no sense to Pennyworth, because he had never met her, he had never met her. And it probably wasn’t for her anyways. The older man looked up at him.

"Sorry." And Damian turned on his heel and over towards one of the rooms closest to the front door.

He was miserable. The only thing he wanted to do was be outside of this house searching for her, some thing, Plagg specifically, told him he should sit still. And one thing he’s learned over these last few millennia, is to listen when Plagg is serious.

So, he sat down, the fake son came in with him, almost like a guard dog. But he didn’t care.

"The people coming over are civilians, they don’t know about the bat , they are not enemies understood."

The older man didn't say it in a condescending or rude tone, it was more like casual conversation.

"I know how to be have myself." He made quick eye contact and then went around and studied the room.

The doorbell rang and both of them moved to exit the room. Damian stood between the fake and his father, white Pennyworth opened the door.

"Alfie, my friend it's been much much too long." A cheerful voice rang in the hallway. "And that’s a little Brucie. My he's grown."

Pennyworth chuckled. "You haven’t changed at all, Gina." A smile on his face. "And who is this?"

Alfred motioned to a girl who was still hidden behind the woman named Gina.

"My granddaughter." The woman stepped aside and then behind the girl, the woman placing her hands on both of the girl's shoulders. "Marinette, my little faerie."

He took a step forward, but someone caught his shoulder, well actually two people. Introductions were promptly made, all the while each one of his shoulders were being held back by the fake and his father respectively, almost as if they were scared that he would attack her.

But what surprised the men however was when they sat down, in the parlor, she sat next to him.

It was comforting speaking with her again, someone he's known for so long/she is his true love, his other half of his soul. He felt at ease with her for the first time in this life.

Their conversations turned from shared memories of the past to those the other never met, the friends they made, the people they gained to trust, as well as those they hope they will see again. What they didn’t notice was the room became silent except for them. Marinette was reminiscing of someone she came to trust from a place called Paradise Island a goddess and a warrior, but that is when Alfred interjected.

"Have you visited Paradise Island before Miss Marinette?"

This shocked the other two men in the room, for a reason that he will more than likely understand very soon, however Gina was the first to respond.

"Alfie, I don’t know how you kept up with them, that was Greek to me."

"Indeed, it was."

Came in response to which both he and Marinette realized they had been bouncing through the different tongues they learned throughout their lifetimes.

"I unfortunately couldn’t understand the first part of it. Do either of you mind elaborating?"

He and Marinette shared a look, but it was her who spoke first. "What is there to say? Anywhere you visit can be a paradise if that’s how you see it."

“That is one way to see it.” His father nodded, but he noticed the fake watching them studiously.

“That’s my little faerie, always looking on the bright side.”

“I’ve learned it’s not good to regret anything.” She smiled looking back at him.

~~~~~~~~~~

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@maribat-secret-santa

damien doesn't even like caprisuns

Daminette School AU Quotes

Lila: You know Marinette, it’s such a shame no one likes you, you’re actually quite useful when you know your place.

Marinette: (sighing) Lila, the bar for civility is so low it’s practically a tripping hazard in hell, yet here you are, limbo dancing with the devil.

Lila: (smiling falsely) If you say something like that again, I’ll “trip” you out of that window you- What are you doing?

Marinette: (looking at the window) Checking how high the drop is, see if it’s worth it.

Damian: (sitting behind them on his phone, not looking up) Most humans can survive a two story fall, Dupain-Cheng. You’ll be fine.

Marinette: Aww, Lila wouldn’t make it then?

Lila: (fuming) Excuse me!?

Marinette: He said humans, and since you’ve clearly escaped from hell you’ll probably just shatter into a thousand pieces and reform there.

Damian: (under his breath) The devil doesn’t want her back.