#im out im gone i want a physical altercation | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dicaxasinus · 2 years

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spooky season! okay so idk how to get interest for oc things so im just gonna put this out there the tl;dr concept is a rogue got stuck in a nightmare hell dimension for a long time and came out of it with dreamwalking/manipulating powers and an axe to grind against their old party. this is their first night back on the material plane and discovering their new Abilities

this is probably the spookiest thing ill ever write, i even got some gnarly ‘eating smth that definitely isnt food’ nightmare stuff in there. thats the only warning i got i think.

The tavern was silent.

Not a sound resonated through it, even through the thin walls of the cheapest room they had to offer. By all logic, anyone staying there ought to at least hear music late into the night, if not shouted arguments and physical altercations. This was not an establishment that offered safety or comfort, it was a favored haunt for more violent drunks and criminals, and a last resort for anyone who couldn't afford another option.

Perry had known what they were getting into when they had come here. They fit the latter category perfectly, after all, and the prospect of noise didn't bother them. If anything, it was welcome. After so long away from anywhere remotely resembling civilization, the reminder that other people - even rowdy, violent ones - were nearby could almost be called soothing.

All of that was gone. No music, no voices, nothing.

A surge of terror shot through their heart, and with it Perry jolted upright, bracing their hands on the thin blanket that separated their body from the straw-covered ground. Motion. They could move. Good. That could be removed from their list of concerns. Just to be doubly sure, Perry adjusted themself so that they were sitting up properly, clenching and unclenching their hands where they could see them. They heaved a sigh of relief that conscious movement was even possible.

'On to the next question,' they thought to themself, lifting their eyes from their hands. The room felt… off. It hadn't changed much from what they remembered prior to falling asleep, but something wasn't right about it. It was still disgusting, with a floor that was covered in a sticky mix of what was probably old spilled alcohol, vomit, blood, and other substances that they tried very hard not to think about. The same pile of horse-smelling straw poked into their legs through the incredibly stained blanket - which they again tried not to think about - and there were no windows to allow in moonlight.

That was the first thing that didn't add up. There ought to be no light in the room. Why could they see any of that?

The second was the silvery mist that curled all around them. It was like being near a lake on an autumn morning; cold, mysterious, and entirely out of place indoors. Whatever the mist was, it shone as if light was reflecting off of it, but there shouldn't be any here. It had to be producing its own, so it must be some kind of magic.

Perry breathed a curse as they got to their feet. Of course they'd run into some kind of magic on their first day back; one of only a few things that they weren't able to effectively decipher. That was always someone else's specialty, not theirs.

The day they were given the assignment, they'd all been some level of nervous, excited, and - most of all - proud. It meant that they'd collectively proven themselves as effective adventurers and problem-solvers, though this was an entirely new level of trust. Most of their previous missions had been simply to go help smaller towns with bandit raids, or disappearances, or even the occasional fiend problem. It was something else entirely to be asked to retrieve an artifact of the Lady of Darkness herself from the Shadowfell.

The Caelian Archives had connections to the Church of the Moon, so it made sense that they would want dangerous artifacts like this 'Mask of Night' kept out of the wrong hands; it was just a surprise and an honor to be trusted with such a great task. Auriga and Lyra had nearly passed out when they were given the news, and subsequently went rushing off to pray for guidance. Cygnus, Orion, and Hesperus, on the other hand, had gone to search the library for any information on the Shadowfell.

They all had their strengths. A paladin and a cleric of the goddess of the moon would naturally trust their goddess to guide them, especially when their quarry was something her sworn enemy held sacred. A wizard was more well-equipped for researching the magic of the plane, to determine what kinds of effects they ought to expect or what they ought to prepare to counter it. A monk and a rogue were there to learn what kinds of landscapes, creatures, or other denizens they might encounter. Preparation was as much divide and conquer as the adventuring itself.

It paid off, too. No number of wraiths or shades could stop them, nor could the frequently-shifting landscape deter them for long. Lyra had spells at the ready to help keep them on track, and between Perry's blessed daggers, Rig's divine strikes, and Cyg's star-covered visage, the undead and other shadow beasts were hardly much of a problem. They were able to reach their destination - the Temple of Somnolence - with relative speed.

Of course, it was there that everything quickly started going wrong.

The entrance to the temple was unsurprisingly locked, and the mechanism to disarm it was embedded deep within a crevice next to the door. It was disguised alongside many other stone carvings, but it wasn't able to escape Perry and Lyra's combined notice. Orion said that they could see some magic around the lock, but it just looked like a weak enchantment. "It shouldn't be any trouble," he'd said.

Perry had trusted his word. They'd put their hands into the crevice, successfully triggered the unlocking mechanism, and the world went pitch black. Their mind urged them to pull back, to say that something was wrong, but their body wouldn't listen. They were frozen where they knelt, head bowed like they were in some awful parody of prayer.

Lyra's was the first voice they heard. "Perry? Perry? Are you okay?"

Rapid steps on stone approached them, but Cyg's voice cut in just as they stopped. "Wait! Lyra, we don't know what happened to them yet. Orion?"

"I'm on it," said the wizard, sounding rattled. Perry felt a wave of magic wash over them, but it did nothing to alter their paralysis. "I… It didn't work, oh, gods, I thought- it looked harmless, I swear-"

"Calm down, Orion, we can't help them if we're panicking," came Rig's voice, finally taking command of the situation. "Can you tell us what kind of magic is affecting them?"

"It's, uh… an enchantment. I tried dispelling it, but it's so much stronger than I thought… Oh, gods, Perry, I'm sorry-"

The darkness that had taken over their eyes was soon accompanied by silence dulling their ears. This, however, was not as complete as the darkness, and they were still able to catch a few intermittent words. Their thoughts felt like they were swimming through tar, but they were certain that they heard three things; "no time," "leave them," and most importantly "come back."

What a mistake it had been, to ever have trusted them.

No one ever came back.

They did their best to crush the rapidly swelling bubble of anger inside their chest. They needed a clear head for this. Thinking about old friends wouldn't help that.

Varying suspicions about the mist ran through their mind as they slowly approached the door. It could be a spell, intentionally cast by someone in the tavern to obscure something, but that wouldn't explain the silence. Of course, that too could be a spell, but… Perry couldn't help but think that wasn't right. What were the odds that a tavern brawl made no contact with the walls? Or even the floors, really. Magical silence wouldn't negate the vibrations of a body impacting wood. Perhaps it could be the natural effect of some kind of creature, obscuring its hunt with magical mist? Undead were often associated with this kind of ethereal energy, and honestly Perry wouldn't doubt that there could be proverbial skeletons in the closets here.

What they were not expecting was for the bar to be completely vacant.

Perry had to pause in the entryway for a moment, letting the surprise wash over them. They could have sworn that a place like this was one that was rarely - if ever - empty. The clientele was so violent and untrustworthy that they'd assumed that barkeeps would always be present, just in case someone got any funny ideas about theft. Not to mention that this kind of crowd was the type that they'd expect to be drinking at all hours of the day.

Just like in their room, though, the mist filled the entire bar room. A glance behind them revealed that it extended into the hall behind them as well. They had to assume that it would be in other rooms, but they could investigate that later. There was a window at the far end of it, they'd see if it went outside once they finished looking around the bar.

They stepped carefully, doing their best not to break the deafening silence. The creak of a single floorboard could alert gods-know-what to their presence, and that was a circumstance they were much better off avoiding. They moved around empty chairs and tables, which looked unmoved from how they'd been prior to going to sleep. Drinks were on tables, some chairs were overturned, but there was absolutely no sign of the people who had been sitting there drinking them.

Perry soon had to give up on that investigative route. All the signs pointed to the people in the bar simply vanishing, but that was hard to believe. They didn't rule it out entirely, but what could possibly have done that? Some vengeful spirit that targeted the bar room exclusively? That just didn't seem likely.

The next area to investigate was behind the bar itself, but that yielded even fewer results. There was, quite literally, nothing under the bar counter. It was as if the counter was just a facade; a mere wooden box that was built to appear functional, but with no tankards, kegs, or bottles anywhere to be found.

The back room was just the same; no kegs, food, or even crates of anything that might indicate that it had ever been used. It didn't make any sense. Perry knew that there should be something back there, since they saw the barkeep go back there just before they'd gone to their room. The food they'd eaten just hours prior came from there.

Unease turned their stomach at the thought. They could feel the bile starting to rise, but they covered their mouth to try to force it back down. They couldn't afford to be sick now, not when it might leave evidence of their presence.

Perry had no idea how long the paralysis lasted. Long enough for familiar voices and footsteps to fade into silence and the creeping fear of being alone in the dark to begin crawling up their spine. Distant wails of the undead chilled their blood, but they couldn't even flinch in response to the piercing noise.

A cold presence circled around them, like a hunter examining its latest catch. A sensation like freezing water rolled down from the top of their head, lingering like a crown of ice even as it loosened their frozen muscles. They wanted to move, to open their eyes, to at least see what kind of threat was watching them, but their body still refused to respond.

When their hands finally withdrew from the lock's crevice, they felt disconnected from the motion. They had no command over their arms, nor their legs as they rose to their feet, or their eyes as they were finally able to blink open. Deep shadows surrounded them, coiled like a serpent as a face smiled cruelly out of the darkness.

Not a word was spoken. The shadows simply parted, opening a path away from the temple. Perry's legs moved unbidden, carrying them away from the temple, away from the path they remembered, and deeper into the unknown reaches of the Shadowfell.

Time lost meaning after they left the temple. To an extent, reality itself did as well. As their body compelled them to wander through hordes of undead, how were they to differentiate when their claws tore through their armor and when it was merely a vision? The sensations were always there, and any vision flowed seamlessly into the next reality; leaving phantom sensations of lost organs where there was suddenly unmarred flesh. Defense was never an option, not when they had no command of their limbs, and whatever did command them seemed to want nothing more than Perry's unending, primal terror.

At some point, however, the experiences began to shift. On one occasion, Perry approached what appeared to be the warped echo of a small town. The inhabitants of the town appeared just as alive as they were, if far more pale. They never approached Perry. They only ever looked at them and smiled, revealing needle-like teeth and the knowledge that more sentient undead had an interest in leaving them as they were.

Blood-soaked visions in the barns of vampire settlements haunted Perry more than others. They desperately needed to believe that any experience with food in the Shadowfell was merely a vision. Even still, they would never be able to forget them; from the compulsion to put warm, unidentifiable flesh in their mouth to the feeling of horror upon realizing that something that had appeared normal suddenly became something moving, wriggling even as it slid down their throat.

When the nightmare finally ended, when they finally regained control of themself, Perry vomited on the grass at the edge of a planar vortex - finally back in their home plane, but haunted by everything they had seen.

Through it all, though, the memory of the last moments with their so-called friends lingered. Orion's carelessness. Lyra's acquiescence to Cygnus's warning, to the point where neither of them tried to help them. Auriga's ultimate decision that they would be left behind.

Perry would make them regret that decision, if it was the last thing they did.

This entire area was a bust. Perry hadn't found any answers here, just more unsettling questions. They returned to the hall lined with rented rooms, ignoring the lightheadedness that washed down their skull. Hopefully there would be something useful there, rather than more empty rooms.

Just like their room and the bar, everything appeared normal at first glance. Of course, it wasn't as if they had seen inside any of the rooms before whatever this was happened, nor could they see through doors. As disgusting as this place was, the rooms did at least have locks, so Perry would have to pick a few if they wanted to see if anyone else was still present. They just hoped they hadn't lost their touch too badly.

First things first though: the window at the far end of the hall. If this effect stretched outside of the tavern, then maybe it was something odd about this entire region, not just the one building. That might be harder to deal with in the long term, but they might be able to get answers more easily if they managed to find someone to ask. It would be a step in the right direction.

As Perry gazed out into the night, their attention was quickly drawn up from the misty ground to a starless black sky. The moon hadn't quite been full, but it certainly hadn't been new either. Still, the only light appeared to come from the mist itself, with no moon to be seen.

A streak of pink light raced across the sky, startling a gasp from Perry. After several minutes, another light streaked by, this time a bright blue and coursing in a completely different direction. There were more, Perry was sure of it, but they weren't frequent and there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to which direction they went.

They turned away from the window slowly. So it seemed that again, they were left with more questions than answers. The mist extended outside, so this magic wasn't isolated to the tavern itself, but clearly it had to extend to even the sky. It couldn't be some kind of planar magic, could it? Perry was so fucking sick of interplanar magic, if they had somehow been transported again - and in their sleep no less - they were sure they'd lose their mind.

Another burst of color drew them out of their thoughts. Immediately in front of them, they could see a lightly obscured figure laying on the floor, with a cloud of multicolored mist drifting around their head. Slowly, curiously, and nearly spellbound by the sudden presence of another person, Perry approached the sleeping figure.

The colored mist seemed slightly different from the silver that dominated the building. It called to them, like it was inviting Perry to come see what was going on even more than any other mystery did. They reached toward it, tentatively, but pulled back as the slowly undulating mist trailed toward their outstretched hand. No matter how alluring it was, Perry couldn't afford to simply let it do whatever it willed to them.

Their conviction allowed them to shake loose the reins of curiosity long enough for them to look around once more. They were not in the hallway. They could still see the window, but they now realized that they could see it through a translucent wall; one with no distinctive features, just like the rest of the room they were now in. Apprehension set in once again as they realized that they had no recollection of opening a door. If that wall was translucent, had they simply walked through it just as easily as they could see?

A glance to the other interior wall revealed that it was just as translucent as the one they'd apparently walked through. On the opposite side, they could see a tiny bundle with another cloud of multicolored mist around it.

Perry darted back to the hallway, passing through the translucent wall once again with alarming ease. The rooms on both sides were equally visible at this proximity, and they tried to control their quickening breaths as they scanned them for any more colored mist. Some of the rooms were empty, but every single room that did have one body - or two, or three - each individual had a cloud with a distinct pattern of colors.

Several things were quickly becoming clear; Perry was the only one conscious in whatever plane this was, everyone they saw had the mysterious colorful mist around them, and any room they hadn't seen had no features whatsoever. They still didn't know how they had gotten to this place, nor how they might leave, but… they got the feeling that they could stop trying to be silent. Nothing was going to hear them if they'd managed to get so close to a sleeping body that the mist tried to reach out for them as well.

The only way Perry could think would get much of an answer, however, was to reach back to it. Allow whatever it was to show them what it wanted. It wasn't ideal, and Perry wished that they had some other way to investigate magical effects, but they couldn't help that now.

They returned to the room at the end of the hall, where they'd first noticed the mist. Just like before, the mist drifted toward Perry's outstretched hand, but this time they did not pull back. They allowed the mist to coalesce their palm, like an ethereal crystal ball. The colors began to take shapes, painting a moving picture of a young girl tugging a man excitedly through a field of flowers. They could feel the peace the man felt with this picture, and likewise the longing for it.

Perry pulled back, allowing the ball of mist to dissipate to nothingness as it fell toward the ground. They moved to another person, this time seeing a woman at the helm of a ship, laughing triumphantly as she discovered a chest full of gold and jewels. Another; a man slitting the throat of another, satisfying his need for vengeance. With each vision, it became clear what the clouds of mist were.

Dreams.

Their heart raced at the revelation, scared of what that would mean for them, that they could see all of these. What was this place, where dreams were not only visible, but tangible? Were they trapped in some kind of realm of dreams?

As they approached yet another dreamer, watching his vision of a man growing ever more frustrated with a woman's dog, they noticed something new about the dream; not only did it have a slight weight, but it also had a slight give if they clenched their fingers around it. It was malleable. They watched the dreamer's anger give way to a desire for violence, and Perry couldn't help their own curiosity about how far this ability of theirs could go. They traced their fingers over the mist, smearing the image of the dog until it looked more like the giant, monstrous shape of one. The desire the dreamer had felt before gave way to fear, but Perry had little time to experiment more before the mist disappeared in a puff of smoke - as did the figure it had surrounded.

If this truly was a dreamscape of some kind, then Perry could only assume that the dreamer they'd been tampering with had woken. That… could potentially explain the emptiness of this place as well. If someone could not be here while awake, then of course the tavern would be empty. Who in their right mind would fall asleep in such an openly dangerous area? Likewise, the staff wouldn't be asleep, so of course they wouldn't be present here either.

Perry returned to the window at the end of the hall. It was ever so faint, but they could still see traces of colored mist emerging from nearby homes, barns, stables - anywhere something might be sleeping. More importantly, they felt sure that they could call the mist to them. Their heart began to race again - this time with excitement - as an idea turned in their mind.

"Auriga," they hissed, simmering rage blending with their delight as wisps of silver mist began to coalesce in their hand. It slowly began to stain with ethereal colors, but Perry was soon greeted with the image of their old comrade without her gilded armor. She wasn't alone in her dream, but was performing some kind of song for a crowded theater. Things were going well for her.

Too well, in Perry's humble opinion.

They reached their free hand toward the orb in their hands, intending to turn the crowd into a violent mob, but the moment they touched the lightly stained mist, the image dispersed like a popped bubble. The surprise at the vision's sudden loss only gave them a moment's pause before fury began to creep back in. Why hadn't it worked this time? Why couldn't they change Rig's dream the same way they had changed some stranger's?

Perry hardly noticed the shadows that began to stain the silver mist around them, nor the tendrils of black that began to creep through the dreams around them.

A sharp, sudden scream pierced the silence of the dreamscape, and Perry jolted upright in utter darkness. Odd-smelling straw poked into their hands, and confused, annoyed voices carried through the wall to their left. There was no mist illuminating their room, and the walls appeared as solid as ever.

Through the wall to their right, they could hear a woman frantically hushing a sobbing child, assuring him that it was just a dream.

Perry let out a heavy breath. It had been just a dream, but had felt so real. It hadn't felt like just a dream. If they managed to return to that dreamscape, they would have to learn more about how this new power worked.

And what exactly they might accomplish with it.

#epsilon says shit #i dont feel super comfortable tagging this with anything but i wanna share it regardless #my oc nonsense is my oc nonsense #i love my nightmare kid and i hope anyone who made it thru these 8 pages enjoyed it ;u;#i hold them like longcat i have so many thoughts about them and how their powers work in my brain #this is just day 1 theyll get better at it and be able to do More Stuff once they figure it out

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earthgoddesspersonas · 3 months

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Everyone has heard of Loki , Viking god of mischief. But no one has heard of his older half sister Pandora. That’s because I invented her with my imagination.

Pandora is a time travelling, shape shifting giantess. I filmed Pandora and posted the videos to YouTube . She’s very candid and straight up in person and on camera . She doesn’t receive the recognition or attention that her brother does , which makes her very competitive with him. Especially since the Marvel movies came out. She has a tendency to be psychologically abusive to Loki , when she’s in one of her dark moods. She does free -lance timeline missions , working casually for a few big name deities and recently during the beginning of Ragnarok, was approached by the Earth Goddesses to see if she was interested in being on their team of spiritual warriors.

Pandora intro

Pandora: “ People need to know the truth that my brother Loki is so lame. The way he looks in the Marvel movies isn’t what he looks like in real life. In real life, he looks like Steve Buscemi ,trust me.

Me , I’ve Shapeshifted that many times ..I can’t even remember what I used to look like. I think it might be a good thing that humans don’t believe in Viking mythology that much any more because it brings less heat on us.

I’m more creative and my brother. Im a way better dancer than Loki, I’m better at running. I’m better at sports , better at cooking , basically everything I’m better than him.

So technically me and Loki aren’t actually gods. Like our mum was a giant. We are more like magic beings, We don’t really belong in the “God world “.

It’s like letting off a wolf in a small paddock of sheep. Humans are the sheep , me and Loki are the wolf. At least, I am. Everyone should be afraid of us. Things have kind of gone a bit fucked since humans started destroying the Earth with their inventions. It’s like they aren’t scared of us anymore.”

Bus altercation .

Pandora: “ I just had a massive fight with Loki and it got physical. He should know better than to get physical with me. I always smash him. It was over Ironman again. Again with all the Ironman shit. He’s like “Ironman is cool.” I’m like “Ironman’s not cool. He’s not a magic being superhero like us. He’s a son of a billionaire, arms dealer and technology wiz , with shit loads of money. Anyone can be an Ironman. Put on a Ironman suit and go save the world.” Then he’s like, “ if you just gave him a chance and got to know him, he’s actually really cool.” I said: “I’m not giving him a chance to know him , I don’t trust humans. Humans are shady as fuck. Trying to imitate us with their inventions. Trying to achieve magic with machinery. That is very lame, first of all. Secondly, if you want to go keep on sucking up to Ironman and going to his house and trying out all those little gadgets, you can go and do it. But don’t come to me and tell me about how amazing Ironman is.” Doctor Strange, I can tolerate. I can tolerate Loki being friends with Dr strange. But even he’s a bit odd…

So anyway we had a bit of an altercation on the bus we were just on so he’s gone home saying he’s going to tell Mum. “I’m like go and tell Mum see if I give a shit.”

#viking #norse mythology #mythology and folklore #story telling #loki #earth goddess #magical girl #psychosis #bipolar disorder #spiritual awakening #spirituality #siblings #family #gods #magic #satire

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brolantra · 7 months

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I’m honestly a really sweet person. The way I’ve preserved this sweetness despite the poison I’ve been force fed, was learning to fiercely protect this part of me.. by any means necessary. My story is dark and hard and although I have an equally dark shadow, I have it under voluntary control. It doesn’t control me. I have to actively work on it and keep myself balanced though because I have a smart ass mouth.. while sometimes it’s necessary, other times it’s just not. Saying slick shit is really just second nature tho. Im genuinely surprised I haven’t been punched in my face more times in my life. I also have violent tendencies, and not in a cute funny haha she wants people to think she’s dangerous kind of way. I have to actively avoid physical altercations and even some verbal altercations with certain people because I know exactly where ima take it. And if I get past a certain point I’m not gonna care about the outcome or consequences. I have to have a lot of self control because I can’t afford not to. I’m not proud of my hyper vigilance, but it was born out of necessity. I am proud of the ways I’ve gone within to reprogram myself tho, and I’m proud of my willingness and ability to address my issues and do what I can to fix my own problems. I am proud of the strides I’ve made toward total self awareness and radical accountability. I’ll do whatever I have to do to protect my energy. I’ll do whatever I have to do to protect my spirit, my heart, my time, and my peace. Even if that means using my discernment and reminding someone why I shouldn’t be played with. I am looking forward to the day I finally feel like I don’t have to be in constant defense mode tho man. I know ultimately that’s what this past year has been about.. feeling what I need to feel so I can release it and move on… Learning to trust God with every cell in my body and every fiber of my being. Controlling what I can control (which is myself) and letting God handle the rest. Trusting in my own neuroplasticity and capacity for great change. Hyper vigilance is a learned behavior, and anything we learn can be unlearned. But learned behaviors are just old habits, and we all know old habits die hard. Lord knows I be trying… I really got ptsd tho and it’s hard. I thought things would be easier to manage once I got diagnosed and I knew exactly what was going on with my brain… but it only got harder. Because that’s when the real responsibility kicked in. Because I wasn’t being called to just manage or cope with these things.. I was being called to really heal them. And there’s no one I can really lean on other than God. Cuz I don’t know anyone who’s doing what I’m doing.. healing to the degree in which I’m striving for. They’re walking their own path, but not even the ones closest to me fully understand what it is I’m trying to accomplish. I can talk about it til I’m blue in the face and still no one understands. It’s hard for others to believe you have the ability to heal yourself, even with proof.. because they have a core belief that they themselves are damaged beyond repair. And they’ll project that belief on to you. It’s not even malicious… but some of the people I love the most can’t even really hear me fr. Cuz they don’t get it… they couldn’t receive a map even if they were looking and asking for one. Cuz they genuinely don’t believe it’s possible. I have built my entire life on top of not laying down and just accepting defeat.. so I personally don’t mesh well with that way of being. Constantly being reminded my calling was for me.. it wasn’t a conference call. It gets so lonely because you look outward for support and you’re met with a bunch of superficial, uninformed nonsense. God isolated me for a reason. Every time I think I’m about to exit hermit mode I’m thrown right back in like “aht aht, you got more work to do. More to address. More to transmute & transcend.” Im tired. I’m frustrated. I’m emotionally exhausted. But I know I wouldn’t have been thrown down this path if there wasn’t victory attached to it. I trust God with everything in me.

If I don’t vent every once in a while I feel as though my blog is losing its original purpose. Ok I’m done now 🤧

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knowgodknowpeace · 2 years

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i want to tell u soemthing that happened last night. so yesterday i decided to discontinue my "refrain from listening to music" period and i also re-watched a few scenes from my favorite horror movie that i kept thinking about for days. i listened to lana, frank ocean, coldplay, hozier and other artists

and a few hours later i had the worst outbreak that my family could ever have. one unfortunate happening took place (which i wasn't a part of) and later i got dragged too to be a part of the fight. 2 family members got physical with me and i was torn apart with their words. hours after it all ended, i thought to myself what could possibly have gone wrong that this happened, and the thought process over this pointed to 'me breaking the abstain from music and media'. and im sort of religious on a level of 7-8/10 and highly believe in spirituality. i would like to hear what u have to say on this

Well first I want to say I am really sorry you had to go through that. It’s really tough to deal with toxic people especially when it is your family. Try not to take what they say to heart. When people are not happy in their own lives they like to take it out on others. All we can do is pray for them that God shows Himself in their lives and changes their heart and keep a distance for your own peace.

I would be lying if I said I don’t listen to secular music or shows. This is something I still struggle with. I am trying to find Christian music that has a similar vibe to the music I like listening to so it doesn’t feel forced or like a chore to listen to Christian music. Some may not agree, but I don’t believe that it’s the end of the world if we listen to music that we like that isn’t Christian. Regardless I know that a sin is a sin, but I will say I don’t listen to music that is “that” bad (mentions Satan, demons, etc). I like 90’s/2000’s rnb, hip hop, some rap.

I relate to your question because sometimes I make promises to God and if I break them I feel extremely guilty and immediately repent. I think that it’s normal and you’re not alone to think that because you broke your no music period that, that lead to the altercation with your family. It’s hard not to think that was the cause of it because it happened on the same day, but God knows our heart. He knows that we don’t have ill intentions.

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one800127 · 3 years

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Me and my husband

*title was inspired by mitski’s song so i wanted to combine it with the request i was given 👹💗*

ex husband!jaehyun x fem!reader

Warnings⚠️: SMUT, ANGST, FLUFF, minor death, fighting and maybe some abuse..? dilf!jaehyun, jaehyun with kids 🥴 btw, please understand that im not trying to romanticize abuse. coming from an abusive home myself, i dont take those kinds of themes lightly and if these things trigger you, please stop reading immediately. IM SORRY I GOT CARRIED AWAY WITH THIS-

Getting married to your college sweetheart, Jaehyun, was the absolute dream. From reformed fuck boy to an amazing husband, your friends envied you because you were the picture perfect couple. After your wedding, you two moved into a wonderful house together in order to start a family. Many things happened in that house, such as cooking together, cleaning together, working together, and most importantly having mind blowing sex together. Jaehyun proved to never be a disappointment went it came to being a husband or being in the sheets because he knows you deserve the best and only the best.

After some time, your first child was born and both of you were elated. You decided on the name Hyunjoon for your baby boy and you and your husband couldn’t have been more happier. Seeing Jaehyun care for your son was the sweetest sexiest thing in the world and that turned you on a little too much. Watching Hyunjoon grow for the next 2 years felt like a flash and it saddened you and Jaehyun because it’s like he was born just yesterday and then the next day, he will be married and having kids of his own. After that terrifying thought, you decided you guys wanted another baby. Some weeks later, you’re rushed to the hospital. Jaehyun by your side in the hospital room, the doctor delivered the terrible news that you miscarried.

The atmosphere at home began to change. Your husband wasn’t making time for you anymore which resulted in you guys being less intimate in bed and you two started unnecessary quarrels over the smallest things. Arguments grew into yelling and yelling grew into physical altercations. One night, you were fixing dinner and your husband came home from work looking visibly tired. “Dinner is ready” you say in a very monotoned voice. Jaehyun sighs and answers, “I’m not hungry” hardly looking at you. You get fed up with how he’s acting, and to make it seem obvious that you are annoyed, you throw the towel onto the kitchen counter, march up to him and you shove him a little to get his attention. “Why are you giving me that attitude?!” raising your voice to him. Feeling his stress build up, Jaehyun shoves you even harder, making you fall to the ground. “‘Why are you giving me that attitude?!’ BECAUSE IM TIRED AND IM TIRED OF THIS BULLSHIT” Jaehyun yells. At the corner of your eye, you see a tiny boy standing at the hallway, holding his teddy bear. “Daddy? Mommy?” Hyunjoon says, his innocence clearly evident, not knowing what is going on.

At that moment, it clicked in your brain that things are beginning to change. The Jaehyun you knew back in college, the Jaehyun who became your husband, he was emotionally gone. Now the man standing in front of you is just some empty shell of what was. Jaehyun turns around to see the little boy and his harsh features turn soft. Walking up to the little boy, he picks his son up and in a calm voice, he asks “What are you doing up this late, buddy?” Picking yourself off the floor, you wipe your pants off so you can cover up the food and put in the fridge. “I heard screaming, daddy” your son says, and you try your very best to hold your tears in. “Don’t worry about that, let’s just get you to bed” you hear Jaehyun say as the sound of his footsteps get quieter signaling that he was gone.

Laying out the divorce papers on the kitchen table, you notice Jaehyun’s hands gripping the paper, almost crumpling it. Trying to stay composed, you tell him that this is the best option and that custody will be 50/50 because you have seen the way that he has cared for Hyunjoon and you don’t want to ruin that for them. With what felt like all hope was lost, Jaehyun had no choice but to sign. After you and Hyunjoon have left to go to your parents’ house, your shared home is now empty. Jaehyun looks around and remembers all the wonderful memories that have taken place, and he too starts to feel as empty as the house.

Hyunjoon is now 6 years old. Of course, when he was born, you fell in love the moment he was put into your arms and a family inside joke was then developed after comparing some baby pictures of him and his father, the similarities uncanny. Seeing Hyunjoon get older was starting to get to you because of how much he looked like his dad, making you miss Jaehyun so much. You missed him so much that you two have started to see each other again, no strings attached. This type of arrangement has affected you both to the point that you can’t bring yourselves to date other people and be normal, you always end up underneath him in bed.

You are cooking dinner, and you hear the door open meaning that Jaehyun has just dropped off Hyunjoon to stay at your place. “MOMMY I’M HOME” your son excitedly yells when he runs into the kitchen. Smiling down at him, you try to avoid looking at Jaehyun in hopes that you don’t remember the way that he was above you one night, rolling his hips into yours. You stop thinking about the previous nights and thanked him for dropping your son off. “You’re welcome!” he says with a smile on his face, his dimples evident. Your ex husband starts to take a good look at you, seeing the way your hair is pulled back into a neat but messy bun, some loose hairs to frame your face and he feels a strong urge to pull your hair like he always does when you two meet in your bedroom or his after Hyunjoon is put to sleep. His eyes trail down to your ass, remembering the events from a few nights ago when he took you from behind, your butt slamming against his hips, red hand prints covering the soft round flesh. Jaehyun’s soon snapped out of his thought because of Hyunjoon’s excited yelling. Your son is jumping up and down, excited to eat his mom’s home cooked meals and his father has a soft look in his eyes. His life is standing right in front him, only if he treated you right, this sight would have been more genuine.

As clinking of utensils fill the room, Hyunjoon turns to you. “Mommy, why does daddy have clouds coming from his mouth???” Your eyes go wide, questioning his inquiry even more, you ask him “What do you mean clouds?” Jaehyun knows exactly what his son is talking about. Ever since your divorce, Jaehyun has turned to smoking to calm him down and the times that Hyunjoon has been to his place, he has most likely seen his father from the window. “I think that’s enough for tonight, let’s get you cleaned up for bed?” Jaehyun asks Hyunjoon while you still have a questioning look.

After cleaning the dishes, you’re on your way to your room. Noticing the door of your son’s room slightly ajar, you can’t help but snoop in and see Jaehyun sitting next to your son in his race car bed, reading him a story. Seeing him this way with Hyunjoon made your heart melt because you know deep down he is a good father, despite everything that happened before. You accidentally push the door open, causing it to make a creaking noise and it catching their attention. Your son has a bright smile on his face when he see’s you, cute dimples that he inherited from his father showing through. “Mommy sit right here!!” he pats the spot on his left. Walking over to the designated spot, your son is sandwiched between you and Jaehyun. After some shared laughs and a few more rounds of reading your son’s favorite book, feeling like an actual family, you and your ex husband leave a sleeping a Hyunjoon alone.

Walking to the living room, you sit on the couch with him. “So you’ve been smoking again?” you ask, hoping he could sense the care you still have for him. “It’s been hard. I just want you back, I need you Y/N” Jaehyun says, feeling himself on the brink of tears. Noticing him tearing up, you grab his face to make you look at him and wipe his tears away. “What happened back then doesn’t matter, Jae. Our son does.” Your voice trails off when you look at his lips. Jaehyun can feel your needs radiating off of you, so he leans in and begins to kiss you deeply.

Kissing him back, your hands roam to the nape of his neck, lightly pulling at his hair. Jaehyun growing needier, he picks you up to bring you to your room, still kissing you. You two land on the bed and you’re laying on your back, your head starting to feel dizzy from the lack of pulling away for a breather, but in this moment you can care less, you wanted him and he wanted you. Feeling his hands all over your body, every article of clothing comes off, and you’re laid out vulnerable to each other. You reach down to his length, making a soft moan come out from your ex husband. Jaehyun starts to thrust his hips into your hand, the initial thought to relieve himself but he’s growing needier by the second. Wrapping your arms around each other, Jaehyun slips himself in and doesn’t give you time to adjust. A mix of heavy breathing and soft groans and moans fill the room, making sure to stay quiet so your son doesn’t suspect anything. Jaehyun then rests his forehead on yours, looking deep into your eyes. His eyes full of love in contrast to how he is rutting into you at this moment. “I love you…” he breathes out, those three words sounding like a distant memory because he hasn’t said that to you in a long time, the last time being 4 years ago, before everything fell apart between you. Hooking your legs around his waist, Jaehyun’s thrusts begin to go deeper, hitting that sweet spot deep within you and that’s all it took for you to writhe beneath him. Your ex husband is still chasing his end, his hips getting rougher and sloppier and you know that feeling all too well. After coming inside your tight walls, Jaehyun stays on top of you, holding you close to him, not planning on pulling out any time soon. You smile up at him, moving his sweaty hair out of his face. “I love you” you say to him, and you don’t need to hear those words back since his actions already explain themselves.

You start to worry. “This can’t be happening” you think, as the doctor broke the news to you. “You’re pregnant”. Those words ring in your ears for the rest of the day. You’ve always wanted another child with Jaehyun, but then the miscarriage and divorce happened. You felt so stupid and irresponsible, looking for comfort in your ex husband. Parking in your driveway, you see Hyunjoon and his dad playing catch, the view making your heart flutter. “Jae? Can we talk for a second?” you say, still rehearsing in your head of what you will tell him. “Yeah!” he responds with the brightest smile on his face. Hyunjoon pouts, wanting to play more with his dad. “I promise to play later, okay Joon? Just go inside and watch some tv” Jaehyun ruffles the top of his son’s head, making the little boy laugh and run inside. “So what is it?” he asks you. You look up at him, words now lost in your head. All the memories come flooding back, from your first meeting, first date, to your wedding day, the day your son was born, your ups and downs, you realize that you can’t let go of him and you are hoping that telling this to him would get you two back together. “I’m pregnant” you blurt out. His face softens at the news, reaching out to rest his hands on your hips and looking down, his little dimples peeking through. “This is a good excuse to get back together with you” he playfully says which makes you lightly smack his arm. “I promise we will be better” you tell him as you wrap your arms around his waist. “We will be better” Jaehyun tells you as he holds your cheeks in his hands, excited for what the future holds for your kids and your relationship.

#nct #nct 127 #nct wayv #nct dream #nct jaehyun smut #nct smut #nct dream smut #wayv smut #jung jaehyun smut

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smnthwrd · 3 years

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Its been a while since I've gone on a tangent about the love of my life mickey milkovich, so here's something I've been thinking about lately:

Am i the only one that actually didn't really like that Ian called mickey "mickey" instead of mikhailo at their wedding? Like i cant put my finger on why, but that was the only thing that stopped the whole wedding from being absolutely perfect in my mind. Idk i was just really looking forward to seeing him finally call mickey by his full name.

And sure, maybe he said mickey because ~he'll always be mickey to him~ and there's something sweet about that and blah blah blah, but idk i just feel like there's something deeply personal about declaring your love for someone using their full name that almost no one calls them by. Because mickey is mickey, of course. But he's also mikhailo, and he was Mikhailo before he was Mickey.

And who knows? Maybe someday in the future he'll start going by Mikhailo sometimes, in more professional settings. Maybe he really starts to feel like an adult, so he starts shaking hands and introducing himself at their daughters parent-teacher conference as Mikhailo Milkovich-Gallagher (or whatever the fuck their last name is???) And he feels really responsible, ya know? Maybe someday he doesn't feel like mickey anymore; the scared boy trapped in the closet, unable to deal with his own hurt so he takes it out on the boy he loves. maybe he feels like Mikhailo now; husband, father, uncle, brother. Maybe im crazy and reading too much into this and none of this happens. maybe he goes by mickey until he dies. Maybe he wears the name like a badge; mickey, boy who overcame impossible circumstances and came out of it alive and in love with an amazing husband and a dysfunctional family. Maybe he stays mickey, but also, maybe he doesn't.

And i just wanted to hear Ian say it, ya know? Saying i don't just take Mickey, the boy that I've gotten into numerous physical altercations with, the boy that i used to sneak around with and love in secret, the boy who was always in and out of jail. But i love Mikhailo, the man who went to prison for me, the man who stood up to his violently homophobic father for me, the man who wouldn't let me push him away because of my mental illness no matter how hard i tried. I love every version of you that you are, that you've been, and that you will become. I wanted to hear him say I, Ian Clayton Gallagher, take you, the whole you, Mikhailo Aleksandr Milkovich, to be my husband.

Idk i just thought it would be neat :/

#shameless #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #gallavich #ian x mickey #noel fisher #cameron monaghan #gallavich wedding #10x12 #mikhailo aleksandr milkovich #shameless s10 #lickey #shameless us #lgbt

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drawlfoy · 4 years

Text

Detention, Retention, and Draco Being a Lying Shit (halloweek day 1!)

masterlist

request guidelines

pairing: draco x reader

request: nope!

summary: y/n’s two month detention sentence goes from being the bane of her existence to harry potter’s last hope to bringing down malfoy.

a/n: hiiiiiii everyone so i’m starting new classes today and idk how much time im gonna have to write consistently until i’m home for break but i just want to thank all of you! this week is my tribute to everyone who takes time out of their day to continue reading my content. i have so much appreciation for you.

warnings: cursing, mentions of violence, mentions of drugging someone (in jest)

taglist: @gruffle1 @missmulti @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @naomimoonshard @jejegu @ophelia-enthusiast

word count: 1.1k

no music recs for today i b tired fdjskfdsja

For legal purposes, the york pudding she lobbed at Pansy Parkinson’s head on Monday evening was simply meant to be a joke. She didn’t know that her aim was bad enough that it was going to get in Snape’s hair instead--honestly, it wasn’t even supposed to get past the Ravenclaw table, much less veer to the left to make a beeline for the professors--but no matter how much she tried to explain this to McGonagall, her sentence remained the same: detention every Friday. For two months.

Her life was ending for sure.

“I honestly don’t know what you were expecting,” Hermione told her as she gently wiped off the nib of her quill later that night in the common room. “Even if you had hit your mark, that’s still technically assault.”

“Did you even hear what she said to me? She told me that I looked like the type of kid that bit people in primary school,” complained Y/N. “I didn’t even think she knew what primary school was!”

Hermione snorted. “How long ago?”

“Two days. I’ve been waiting until there was something throwable on the dinner table.”

“How very analytic of you.”

“I’m going to hit you.”

“And you wonder why you’ve got detention.” Hermione tsk-ed at her, her face stone serious but her tone light hearted. “Maybe take this as an opportunity to, I don’t know, do your homework for once? So you won’t have to have a breakdown over the next Potion’s essay and beg me to write it for you?”

“I’m going to go to sleep and think terribly mean thoughts about you.”

“Have fun.”

Detention.

Something that Y/N wasn’t completely unfamiliar with--she’d done her time organizing Snape’s cabinets, just like every other Gryffindor--but it was different when it came to McGonagall. An impressive old lady, she thought that McGonagall saw something in her. She was always the first to chuckle at Y/N’s jokes and hesitated to reprimand her stupid behavior. And she never gave Y/N detention.

Until now, she supposed. 6th year was changing a lot of things--even their Potions professor--so McGonagall turning a new stone shouldn’t have been anything shocking.

At least, not as shocking as the first thing Y/N saw as she walked into her house head’s office.

“Malfoy?” she spat.

The platinum blonde didn’t even bother to look up from his desk.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Professor McGonagall chided. “I think we would all prefer if you restrained yourself from getting into any more physical altercations with Slytherins.”

She huffed, plopping down in the chair furthest away from THAT foul git and reaching for her satchel.

“I’ll be back in two hours,” said the elderly professor. “If I hear anything, and I mean anything, other than the sound of studying, consider your sentence doubled.”

With a swish of her robes, McGonagall was gone, leaving her with Malfoy.

“So what’d you do to get in here, huh? Did the administration finally get a hold of that video of you licking Voldemort’s toes?”

“What the fuck does that mean?!” he snapped, whipping around to glare at her.

“‘s just a joke,” said Y/N. “Like--how everyone says your family houses him and everything--but whatever. I can tell it’s a sore spot.”

His gaze, never withering in intensity, remained trained on her face. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Apparently so. What’re you in for?”

He exhaled sharply. “If I tell you, will you shut up and let me think?”

“No promises, but maybe.”

“Late work. I forgot to turn in the Transfiguration exam last week.”

She made a tutting sound as she lazily shuffled through the crumpled parchment in her satchel. “I expected more from you. Aren’t you gonna ask me how I wound up here?”

“No. I am going to ask you to stop talking now, though.”

“That’s terribly unfortunate,” Hermione said over breakfast the next morning. Ron and Harry were nervously chit chatting at the other side of the table over the Saturday Quidditch game against Slytherin--supposedly it was supposed to be quite a high stakes match. Not like Y/N cared much, though.

“Yeah! And the worst part was that he won’t even tease anymore. Like, he just sits there all broody and woe is me. We’re ALL on the brink of war...he’s not special!”

“Who are you talking about?” asked Harry.

“Oh, just Malfoy,” said Y/N. “We have detention together with McGonagall. He’s such a nasty little greaseball, don’t you think? I mean, look at him right now, glowering over his cereal.”

“Wait! That’s it!”

“What’s it, Harry?” Hermione asked.

“It’s genius, really,” he said. “Y/N has to spend time with him alone every week, and we know that something is up with him. Malfoy is absolutely a Death Eater and has connections to You-Know-Who, but I just need to find a way to prove it.”

“I vaguely forecast where this is going, and I hate it already.”

“Listen, Y/N. It’s not for that long, and it’s for the health of the wizarding world. If you just get to know him--”

“Ick!”

“If you just get to know him, maybe get him to trust you and find out his secrets...we’d finally have enough to turn him in and throw him out of Hogwarts for good.”

“Is that really necessary, Harry?” Ginny butted in from her seat further down next to Dean. “Malfoy’s probably just exhausted like the rest of you. 6th year is difficult, and we have no solid evidence that he’s a Death Eater. I’m sure being stuck in a room with him for 2 hours is hard enough without pretending to be nice to him.”

“But what if Harry’s right?” said Y/N. “What if he is actually a Death Eater? What if he’s an active danger to the student body?”

“Exactly!” The joy written across Harry’s face at the prospect of someone else finally agreeing was infectious. “So will you?”

“Er…” She dragged her spoon across the top layer of her porridge. “In theory, sure. In actuality, I’m not sure how I could do it. Malfoy doesn’t want anything to do with me, either.”

“Love potion?” offered Ron.

“I don’t care how much of a prat he is, I’m not roofying him.”

“I rarely agree with you, Y/N, but I think you’re right. If you want to do this, you need to get him to trust you for real.”

“Your back-handed compliment skills never disappoint, Hermione. Do you think you could help me out with a plan?”

A slow smile spread across the girl’s face as she nodded. “That’s my strong suit.”

#draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #draco #draco malfoy #draco lucius malfoy #draco x you #draco malfoy x you #draco x oc #draco malfoy x oc #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x y/n #harry potter imagines

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halcyon-writings · 4 years

Text

family

requested?: yes (anonymous) //tldr, if alucard had a sibling (the reader, of course) dealing with the loss of family, both living and not

note(s)/warning(s): canonical character death, spoilers babyyyyy, violence and injury, angst it’s rare for anyone in this series to have a good time huh?, also for this being that the reader can literally look however you want, imma say Lisa isn’t white bc I do what I want and it’s my fic :) this is also the most i’ve written in a good while omg, im highkey proud so pls don’t let this flop

Lisa Tepes is dead.

Your mother, is dead.

Killed, burned alive. Gone to ashes.

All because the church had believed she was a witch of sorts. Several thoughts dance in the back of your mind as you gaze upon the pyre. Smoldering from the heat, the flames gone. Your father leaving his message, no, his warning, that he would act in one year.

“A farce that was!” You hear a shout, and you force down the bitter laugh, throat tight and eyes burning. Especially so when you slowly begin to hear continued shouts of agreement, from voices previously silent.

Here your mother was, her final resting place. Burned to ashes for some sick show of power.

And you could do nothing as she was mocked for it.

Your fist clenched at your side, you feel your nails cutting into your skin, but you walk away to return home.

And to say that the castle was no less better was an understatement. Your father was most likely in his quarters.

And when you finally sit down, the weight of your weary finally settling against your soul, do you allow yourself cry. Quiet tears turning to sobs as you muffle your voice with a pillow.

You had failed her. Missing the chance to save your mother, too late to have done anything.

But you pause, noticing the presence at your door, your brothers familiar knocking pattern resounding suddenly through the empty hall.

“Come in,” Your voice is embarrassingly raspy. As you clear your throat, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. But it wouldn’t hide the redness of your eyes.

Adrian says nothing, and a part of you wishes he did. His larger hand takes yours. A comforting squeeze.

You blink again feeling your eyes burn, and you squeeze his hand back.

“Father is...” He trails off, no doubt thinking of what he could say next.

“What he plans on doing, it’s not justice.”

You stare up at him, But it would be deserving. A bitter corner of your mind supplies.

While Adrian had taken after Mother in his demeanor, much more kinder, more welcoming. You were no doubt like Father. Reserved, distrusting, easily prone to grudges if you were wronged in some way.

But you bite your tongue.

“He gave them a year,” You murmur after some time, “But no doubt he’s ready to calling his armies.”

At this Adrian turns alarmed. the warmth from his hand slips away.

“We must stop him!”

You’re still reeling from the events from earlier today, and a part of you wishes to have no part in his attempt to try and stop your father. But then you remember your mother.

Her kindness, regardless of how she was viewed for being different.

And your warily stand anyway.

If only you had more sense. Your father remains eerily silent as he embraces you both. His hold tighter, and while Adrian seemed convinced, you saw the dark look in his eyes.

The year had passed. You weren’t surprised to hear of the bloodshed.

It was naive to expect otherwise. While reluctantly following your brother, you can only stand, frozen as your blood feels like ice in your veins as your remaining family clashes.

“No.” Your voice is barely a whisper.

They don’t hear you.

Glass shatters.

And foolishly enough, you rush forward.

With your brother injured and fleeing, and you yourself were not free from any sort of pain.

Stepping in between the two as they fought ended with a gnarly gash on your shoulder, as you fell to your knees and blood slipping past your fingers. Your father stands in front of you, like a protective pillar as your brother stares in shock, quickly wanting to help you in some way.

And then the fight is over. Your brother is gone too.

The castle is much larger and colder now.

As you’re confined to your room, the wound healing into an angry red, then to a muted and dull scar. For a moment you wished it took longer, your father guilty and you were reminded of times you had been sick when you were younger. While you had not been too keen on the typical children’s books, reading theory on physics and other sciences only seemed fun when he would read to you and you’d ask questions in between passages. (Your voice funny from a stuffy nose led to laughter and a small coughing fit but otherwise it was nice).

But now was not the time to reminisce on the happy childhood.

You know you cannot stay. Ultimately, Adrian had been right. Once you feel as though you can move your arm once again, slowly, you begin pack a small bag. You didn’t want to build up any suspicions, finding some money in your room and whenever you could take a few coins or so from your father that he would not miss.

Extra clothes were folded and put away separately.

And you make your escape on a rainy evening, the uneven droplets helping hide your tracks. But you knew now that your father had brought back Hector and Isaac, new generals to help fight in his war, you had to be weary of the night creatures that would no doubt be sent after you.

Well, you were creative. At times flying in a transformed look, no one would suspect a bat in the dark of night afterall. And it was easier to. find good vantage points that way. But to also avoid any people, you didn’t quite trust yourself to not get into an altercation with a bigot.

You rarely slept longer than necessary, especially not when those dreams were memories or nightmares.

Now that you had learned how to walk, you were a right menace. It was an uphill battle in itself to keep you in one place. You were curious and the world you knew (being your father’s vast castle) was huge. Your childlike curiosity was never let down by your adventures.

You laugh quietly, which sounds like small squeaks as you fly up and hide above the gaudy chandeliers. Your father, giant coat gone, hair tied back and in a plain dress shirt and slacks as he searched for a curious toddler.

Snickers continuing as he paces down the hall. You hop down, landing slowly and feet planting into the ground, knees bent. Before you had down the opposite direction.

The lab usually wasn’t a place you could be allowed in on your own. But having heard that your mother was there, you knew it wouldn’t be a problem! So your little legs carried you along. Until you found the familiar doorway.

Dozens of tubes and mechanisms had you turning your head as you wandered in, your shoes tapping against the marble floor.

“Now what brings you here, sweetling?” The warmth of your mother’s voice has you smiling before you see her. As you run forward and hug her side, clutching her dress in your small fists. “Not causing trouble for your father are you?”

You shake your head grin betraying your word, “Nope! I’m not doing any trouble!”

“And how since when did that happen?” She laughs gently.

“Now.”

Your brother looks up from his own books, waving before returning to work. Your nose crinkles, so much for playing experimenting. But before you can say much, your nearly yelp as you’re brought up into the air by a pair of strong arms.

“I’ve found you, little wanderer.” Your father’s voice carries no heat behind it. Then again, he was always soft hearted for you and your brother. But most of all, your mother.

“I’m not little!” You pout, “I’m big now!”

You’re taken away from your reverie at the snap of a twig.

With your lack of sleep, as you had insisted on traveling more, you were less than surprised to have been snuck up on.

“Peace, my friend,” The old man murmurs. You keep your knife in an iron grip in front of you. Who you’re guessing is his son or grandson, has his hands raised the same way, but no weapon to be seen, magic, oh good. Then again, not like you needed a knife when you could make your nails go into claws and the fangs. Don’t forget the fangs.

“I can’t exactly be peaceful when it’s the middle of the night and suddenly figures in blue robes appear out of now where,” You answer dryly. But seeing as how the others behind the main two have not done or said anything noteworthy, nor were their stances make them look like they could really fight, you lower your weapon slightly.

Clearing your throat, “Although, I shouldn’t be swinging my own weapon around either.”

The old man just smiles gently. And you can’t help but be just slightly comforted.

In the end, the speakers stop for the evening. And the Elder, despite looking like a frail old man, is firm in his decision that you stay and “eat properly.” And like a scolded child, you listen. Food and drink all but pushed into your hands as you’re quickly brought into conversation, the previous confrontation all but forgotten.

And then you perk up when he mentions Gresit.

“So... the sleeping soldier,” You begin, slowly chewing on the sweet bread you had been given. “It was true?”

The Elder nods, “My grandchild and a traveller, they had gone to explore it. Well, the traveller had gone to save my grandchild. I will not hide the fact that I was a bit doubtful. But Belmont had proved himself a man of his word. Although, he does need to drink more water.”

You blink, a look of a surprise clear on your face. Belmont...

Fuck.

“Although I hadn’t expected the legend of the sleeping soldier to be realized so quickly.”

At your inquisitive look, the Elder begins to explain. Of a holy warrior beneath Gresit, who would come to save it’s people in their most dire of hours.

“The pair had come up with a man with long hair, like gold.” You couldn’t help but let out the breath you had been holding. So the Belmont didn’t try to kill him. you could breathe a little easier at that fact.

“Where are they now?” You ask, holding the empty cup in your hands, as you stare down as though waiting for something.

Getting your answer, you stand, adjusting your bag over your shoulders. You wave off the concern in staying, if it had already been several days since the Speakers had left Gresit, then you needed to cover a lot of land to get to your brother.

That is, until you saw the expression on the Elder’s face grow stern, as though he was scolding a child. With a heavier bag, one that the Elder insisted that you take some more things you could eat along the way, in exchange you give the Elder a small trinket you had been using to hide from the monsters of your father’s army, you finally set off. While your worries were not completely settled, your shoulders felt lighter. Metaphorically of course.

Of course, giving away the object that kept you hidden made it a bit more, difficult, when it came to trying to hide and travel at night. Much less even try to stop and rest.

It had barely been two days since you had left the speakers, and already, you had run into some trouble, a beastly creature’s claws barely caught on your sleeve, leaving your arm bare as you shuddered from the chill in the air. You can only sigh mournfully, you really liked that coat. But, better your sleeve than say, you actually getting wounded.

Your nails resemble claws, while your free hand holds the dagger in a steady grip. But being surrounded on all sides, it did not look promising.

Well, you thought mournfully, if you died you could at least see your mother again.

Until you hear the sound of what reminds you of a whistle? And then a sword flying through the air, slicing through the night creatures, giving you a chance to get some distance.

You hear the surprised shout of your name, and look up, to see your brother wide eyed, sword now returned to him, and a man and woman standing at his side.

“Um... hi.”

Much to your relief, the night creatures are easily taken care of.

And as you’re finally able to explain your story, you find yourself relaxing into the extra cloak given to you by the Elder.

“You mean you met the Speakers on your journey?!” A woman, petite with short blonde locks, who you learn is named Sypha, asks, and you notice the way her shoulders sag in relief.

You nod, “Yes. They all were safe.” If her shoulders sagged anymore she’d full on be slouching. You leave out the part of leaving a possibly precious trinket with them, not wanting her to think you cursed them or something.

“So you mean to tell me, Dracula, fucking Dracula, had more than one kid? That he actually had a woman not only give him not just one, but two children?” Is incredulously asked next by the scruffy looking man. Trevor, as your brother says.

You only stare in annoyance, sure your father was about to raise an army to annihilate the human populace but he didn’t used to be that way.

Before you can retort with a scathing remark of your own, Sypha elbows him harshly in the side. And you know it hurts from the way he immediately puts a hand where she hit him, eyes widening slightly. Serves him right.

“And what of...” Adrian- no Alucard as he wishes to be called, asks, near hesitant.

“Father?” You ask, arms crossed, “Same old same old. Planning the same amount of destruction here or there.”

As he looks to the snow covered earth, you roll your eyes, “Did you expect anything different?”

It’s quiet, and neither Sypha nor Trevor speak.

“No.”

You all sat around camp quietly for a while after that.

Your lungs feel like they’re being constricted. Your throat burns as you struggle to breathe, claws digging into your skin like knives. Before you’re thrown backwards, landing harshly against the wall. Books fall from the book case and your weapon clatters noisily from the ground.

You take shallow breaths, barely standing before you’re thrown once more. Curse your father’s stature and supernatural strength. You close your eyes, waiting for another attack and at least hoping to brace yourself for it, but it never came.

Instead, your brother stands in front of you, as he and your father remain in a standstill. Sypha and Trevor’s footsteps are rushing towards you three.

It all continues to move so fast, until he stops noticing the painting of your mother, as she had been holding your brother and then you as a baby, and the next thing you know, your father is staked through the heart. And with wobbly legs, you take your sword, and swing. So falls Dracula. But it felt like no victory.

You sit up with an alarmed look, stopping yourself from shouting.

That was... a dream? You rub your eyes, feeling that your cheeks are wet and you sigh.

When you see a shadow looming over you, the light of the fire giving slight visibility, you freeze. Before noticing it’s your brother and not his companions.

“Sorry,” You say, making sure to not look at him, so that he didn’t see your tears.

Quietly, he places his coat over your shoulders, sitting beside you, wrapping his own blanket loosely around his own shoulders. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

You only grip the jacket lapels tighter, shaking slightly as you hiccup, unable to stop yourself from crying again.

He must think it’s because you miss your mother, and you do. But this dream was far different. And you say nothing as he brings you into his arms. Your tears having long since dried when the sun rises moments later. But you find yourself falling asleep as your brother rubs soothing circles on your back, feeling the build up exhaustion finally leaving you.

When you’re awake much later in the day you can’t help but laugh a little when Sypha scolds your brother for being mean enough to make you cry, he didn’t you assure her quick enough, although you’re back to laughing when she then turns around to scold Belmont when he makes another slight comment.

#castlevania netflix x reader #castlevania imagines #castlevania imagine #castlevania netflix imagines #mine

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consumeconstantly · 4 years

Text

Small Buff Girl Sightings Ch. 5

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | ao3

3:00AM | CoffeeVamp: bb bat update us TheOG: ^^ more info on the situation in paris

3:28AM | Demonspawn: It is difficult to obtain information on Hawkmoth. The butterflies disperse after they are cleansed, and before they land their target, they don’t show up electronically. Coffee Vamp: o how the mighty have fallen i thought u said u could best me bb boi

3:42AM | Demonspawn: I’d like to see you do better. Coffee Vamp: IS THAT A CHALLENGE Coffee Vamp: ill take u up on that gimme 24 hours and ur going down TheOG: he has had a whole month so dont be too sure of that LadyLady: would you guys SHUT UP its two and some of us have jobs to do Coffee Vamp: cmon babs u luv us dont deny it LadyLady: Don’t make me hunt you down, Tim. Coffee Vamp: oOooO proper punctuation im shaking TheOG: just shut off notifications Babs TheOG: Bruce does Jesus: i don’t think the man has checked this chat in years Coffee Vamp: wdym brucie checks the chat all the time hes just a silent lurker Coffee Vamp: he doesnt even set himself to invisible

3:57AM | Daddy is away. Coffee Vamp: im so glad i have admin privileges imagine if i didnt bruce would have a boring normal nickname like his actual name LadyLady: good lord, why am I even in this chat?? Daddy: You’re supposed to keep them under control. Coffee Vamp: SEE I TOLD U BRUCE IS A SILENT LURKER> THIS. IS. SOLID. PROOF. IN YOUR FACE TheOG: nobody said otherwise Coffee Vamp: also how are the people have you made friends Jesus: Demon spawn? Making friends? Id be less surprised if he told us he has a new fling Coffee Vamp: is j right? Got a winter fling?

4:12AM | Coffee Vamp: ur lack of a response tells us nothing TheOG: im sure he’s just adopted his usual icy persona Coffee Vamp: haha hes the bb of so many things Coffee Vamp: bb vamp bb demon spawn ice ice bb Coffee Vamp: getitt im so funny

4:36AM | Coffee Vamp: guys?

“I told you I could get her to write her number on your cup,” Marinette grins with pride.

“And I told you I didn’t want her to.” Damian scowls and kicks a pebble in his path.

“You’re still wearing the clothes I picked out for you,” she points out.

“You told me to wear it. I wore it. I’m not interested in her.”

Marinette squints at Damian, evaluates whether he’s telling the truth or not. “Huh, you really aren’t interested. I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t wear the other outfit I picked out for you-- that one would have gotten her to ask you out on the spot.”

Damian groans. “We’re going to have to find a new coffee place.”

“Or we could just come when she’s not on shift and run away like mice when we do see her?”

Damian gives her The Look.

“But they have good coffee here,” Marinette whines.

“Maybe you should have thought about that before dressing me up and sending me to my death.”

“It’s not my fault! You only have your parents to blame for your looks.”

It’s true; both of Damian’s parents are good-looking. His whole family is, actually, adopted or not. All of the good looking people he meets are talented and have a tragic life story. Which is the cause and which is the effect, Damian isn’t sure. But it holds true even in Paris. All he has to do is look at Marinette or Adrien, though he’s not a hundred percent sure where the tragedy kicks in for Marinette. Probably the time when she was at odds with Lila, but he hasn’t looked much into the situation. He can even use Lila Rossi as an example. She has even worse color coordination than Damian is, but her features are model worthy. Lila Rossi is also definitely fucked up in ways that Damian doesn’t care to explore.

The effects of Marinette’s well-placed compliments has Damian thinking about himself in a positive manner that he never has before. Bruce is always stingy with praise, and the other senior members of the Justice League of America see him as another Robin that doesn’t need praise because competency comes with the mantle. Dick and Barbara compliment him occasionally, but that’s rarer now that his place is more firmly cemented in the family. Damian doesn’t think he’s ever had someone so willing to genuinely compliment him. Marinette’s compliments extend to more than just his looks, as well. She praises his technological skills as he sets up her website and has complimented him as he helps her out with whatever altercations she inevitably comes across on the streets. If he reveals his skills as Robin, reveals himself as Damian Wayne, will he receive even more praise?

“But since we did buy you that absolute knockout of an outfit, you’re going to have to wear it eventually. So whose heart do you want to steal?”

“I don’t want a relationship,” Damian repeats. They seem like more effort than they’re worth, and he always sees couples fighting and complaining about each other. Plus, they have to make time for each other and his alter ego doesn’t allow for that, though he supposes that he isn't Robin. At least, not right now.

“You don’t need to want a relationship just to flirt with somebody. Who’s it going to be? The intern at the Louvre? My parent’s newest hire? Oooh, how about Nicolette?” Marinette’s voice takes on a more mischievous tone.

Damian will give Marinette this much: her taste in the aesthetics of people is far from bad. The intern from the Louvre is two hundred pounds of lean muscle with a devil-may-care smile and a deep, belly laugh that makes people laugh with him, but Damian and he don’t have anything in common. Her parent’s new hire is knockout gorgeous, with warm brown eyes, and definitely the kind of girl Damian would have gone for as a one night stand back in Gotham. However, he’s also 98% sure that she has a very possessive boyfriend who stops by the bakery every time she has a shift. Nicolette is considered her college’s belle, and her intense gaze paired with her surprisingly friendly demeanor might have been appealing to Damian if she weren’t ten years older than him.

“I’m not into any of them,” he says, simply.

“Then who are you into? Surely someone has caught your eye in the past month?” Marinette looks genuinely curious, but her expression shifts into horror. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I never asked your preferences, if I was being insensitive, I’m sorry, I mean I’m pan, but you absolutely don’t have to tell me, it’s your right if you’re not comfortable.”

Damian does look slightly uncomfortable now that she’s looking at him more closely. His arms are crossed over each other, across his chest, and his hair is tousled. Then, he lets out a small laugh, and Marinette melts. “It’s fine, Pigtails. All of the people you listed are attractive, but I’m not attracted to them. I’m more of a personality guy, though I can’t say that personality has stopped me from things more than dates before.”

He’s had his fair share of hook-ups and makeout sessions in the past when feeling particularly frustrated with something that wasn’t going his way, though his primary method of relief is through sparring. Short missions and one night stands go fairly well together; he doesn’t ever have to deal with people wanting long term relationships, and even if they do, he’s gone before they know it. So far, he hasn’t hooked up with anyone in Paris, but then again, he’s only been here for a month and this is a long term mission. Whatever time he’s not with Marinette or at school is dedicated to piecing together the mystery that is the Miraculous and trying to figure out Hawkmoth’s identity.

“Oh,” Marinette continues to blush.

She’s clearly too embarrassed to bring up any other topic, so Damian decides that he’ll shoot the same conversation topic back at her. Marinette is attractive, and people she meets ask for her numbers and dates often enough. She’ll accept the former if they aren’t a total creep, but she always turns down requests for dates.

“And you? Why aren’t you out there questing for love? No crushes or significant others that I need to beat off with a stick?”

This does manage to lessen her flush. She frowns, turns something over in her mind.

“No crushes right now, no. I used to have a huge crush on Adrien just a year ago. He’s such a sweet person, but we don’t see eye to eye on important matters.” And also not into sex, either. Even physical affection hits him the wrong way sometimes, which makes Marinette worry even further for his well being with Lila’s constant touches. Still, he hasn’t said anything, and Lila hasn’t done anything more than grasp his arm or shoulders every now and then, to reassure the class that yes, they are the golden couple. Marinette also suspects that he is very unwilling to talk about the whole situation in general, and it’s not as though they’re super close.

Of course she had a crush on Adrien. Damian can see it now, Marinette looking at Adrien with her big blue eyes, her lashes fluttering when she gets close to him. Stuttering when she gets embarrassed or when she gets close to him. It makes his lungs constrict, but he’s not sure why.

“As for past relationships, there’s only really Luka. We had a pretty good run, but he’s out of the country, touring. He wanted to try long distance, but I didn’t really want that. But he’s respectful-- there’s no need to beat him off with a stick or anything.”

“I’m surprised a pretty girl like you doesn’t have more suitors,” Damian says, stepping over a crack in the sidewalk as they walk towards the park.

Marinette gags. “There are some other people who have been interested, but I wouldn’t exactly consider them relationship material. If you’re going after a girl just because she looks exotic, that’s sort of nasty. I guess I’m just unlucky in love.”

“At least you’re not as bad off as Ladybug is,” Damian jokes.

She looks at him strangely. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, first there was that creepy sculptor who must have been twice her age, then there’s Chat Noir who keeps flirting with her despite her requests not to, plus all of the random love akumas. I’m not even going to talk about the hordes of guys who chase after her, trying to get a date just because she’s a superhero. It’s not even like she can kick them between the legs because she has an image to uphold and all that.” He smirks, nudges her with his arm. “I’m surprised you haven’t done that with some of your stalkers.”

“Oh. You’re right, huh. Though, I don’t think Chat Noir has actually flirted for a while now.” Chat Noir has been very subdued as of late, and it makes Ladybug worry.

Marinette feels uncomfortable with the way the conversation has shifted. How does Damian know about all of these past akuma attacks? As far as Marinette is aware, most information about anything Miraculous related is difficult to get a hold of abroad, largely because the Miraculous try to hide their existence as best they can, and partially because Mayor Bourgeois doesn’t want word to get out that he hasn’t flushed a supervillain terrorist out even though he’s had three years to do it.

“Copycat happened three years ago.” It’s a question, almost.

“I figure I might as well keep up with the heroes of Paris. I’m here and they’re interesting.” Damian figures this is as good a time as any to bring up his interest in Hawkmoth. Marinette has been nothing but helpful and she’s definitely the kind of person whose heart is in the right place. Not to mention that she’s definitely smart and seems impartial; the one time he asked her about her thoughts on the heroes, he found out that she didn’t see them as perfect. She was able to critique Ladybug in full, which seemed pretty odd considering the rest of Paris seemed to have nothing but glowing praise for the heroine. “You’ve had some awful luck with akumas yourself. Weird how Ladybug didn’t show up when you got kidnapped by Evillustrator. One of the only times she didn’t show up for an akuma.”

“And what happened to the other heroes? It’s mostly Ladybug now. She must be in an awful state with her civilian life.” He looks off to the park, occasionally flicking his attention back Marinette’s face, evaluating her expression.

She catches his eyes and he swiftly looks away, looking almost nervous. Marinette stiffens. He knows, he knows, he knows, he can’t know. But how? How does he know that she’s Ladybug? She hasn’t let anything slip around him. She's been careful not to. Everything she’s ever said about Ladybug has been brief and curt, taking on an almost angry tone.

“If you’re so interested in Parisian heroes, I’m sure you saw the press conference Ladybug and Chat Noir gave last year about why the other heroes would be showing up less often.” Marinette keeps her voice carefully neutral. She needs to play this safe. She’s probably over reacting-- she’s been on edge with Hawkmoth sending out an akuma attack nearly every single day for the past few months.

Damian shakes his head. “It didn’t seem like good reasoning. Ladybug and Chat Noir are too untrained. They haven’t beat two villains in three years. They should let someone else take over.”

Marinette has come across a good number of Ladybug and Chat Noir haters throughout her time. Those who dislike the Parisian heroes often make the exact same arguments Damian is now. That they’re not fast enough. That they should have taken down Hawkmoth and Mayura already. This is nothing new to her, though it does hurt hearing it from Damian, for some reason. She can’t even argue with most of the points he’s brought up. Going mostly solo was because of her own, selfish reasons. She really should have beaten Hawkmoth and Mayura by now.

“The only thing they have going for them right now is that they’re keeping their Miraculous out of Hawkmoth’s hands.” She pretends that the reason why Chat Noir doesn’t show up to battle is to ensure that Hawkmoth can’t get both of the Miraculous in one fell swoop. It feels hopeless to fight villain after villain without any movement forwards. Her mind wanders to the increasing frequency of akumas and smiles, sardonically. “Some people think it’s only a matter of time until Ladybug and Chat Noir lose.”

“Hawkmoth almost seems to be the better strategist.” The two of them pass store front after store front. “Do you ever wonder what they look like, under the mask? Who they are?”

Marinette stares at the concrete underneath her feet. Hawkmoth, the better strategist? Laughable, and entirely incorrect. Even the people who hate Ladybug admit that her plans almost always work out, and that her plans are second to none. Really the only person who can possibly think that Hawkmoth is a better strategist is--

She can’t think like that. Damian is her friend. He’s just curious about Paris. Her lack of sleep and increase in paranoia re making her imagine things that are impossible. Besides, Damian isn’t on her list of suspects-- he told her he’s only been here for a short time, and Hawkmoth’s Miraculous definitely has a limited range. It’s a real pity that the world of Miraculous makes concrete evidence hard to come by, otherwise, Marinette likes to think Hawkmoth would have been behind bars already.

“No,” she lies. Hawkmoth haunts her dreams and every waking hour. She spends hours and hours on theories and scouring out information and people who fit the clues she’s painstakingly pieced together. “Not really.”

Damian’s eyes are a piercing green, and for a moment, Marinette thinks she stops breathing. “Is that so? I’m really interested in who Ladybug is under the mask. I’d love the opportunity to talk to her in person, especially about her Miraculous. The powers she has are… very interesting.”

No. There’s no way that Damian can be Hawkmoth, right? This is all just her paranoia speaking. Damian is just a foreigner who is interested in super heroes. It’s no biggie. Still, she can’t shake off the idea that there’s more to Damian than meets the eye. The way he walks-- no, prowls-- commands respect. Marinette can tell that he knows how to fight, and knows how to fight well. He’s very good at finding information on people-- she sent a whole case file to her on Renee and his situation with his mother within twenty four hours of going into the precinct, complete with video evidence Marinette knows should have been impossible to procure without hacking-- and keeps up with her critiques on Ladybug and Chat Noir’s techniques like he’s watched their battles over and over again. He remembers akuma battles Marinette has half forgotten, because they happened so long ago.

She stares up at him, hands shoved in the pockets of the jacket she chose for him when they went on their wardrobe makeover. Damian is surprisingly wealthy; he purchased anything she even glanced at with passing approval. He looks straight forward, apparently waiting for some response from her. Just because Damian is her friend, doesn’t mean she can immediately expunge him from her list of suspects. So far, she has taken all of Damian’s words at face value. It didn’t matter to her that he rarely talks about his family or his life before Paris. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t brought her to his home during all of the weeks that they’ve been hanging out together. Really, Marinette just figured that he had a rocky relationship with his family, and that he may have been on the poorer side and was embarrassed to show her where he lived. But clearly. Damian is well off enough to afford brand name clothes without batting an eye. Things aren’t adding up. All of the red flags that she’s blatantly ignored start to crop up in her head.

The book on the species of butterflies that akumas are made of, tucked under his arm. The way he showed up after every single akuma attack when she rarely saw him in the area before or during it. His knowledge of the three languages that form the basis of the Miraculous Tome-- Mandarin, Arabic, and English.

If he is Hawkmoth, what sort of emotions would he be feeling right now? Some sort of euphoria, maybe, realizing that he could get infinitely closer to Ladybug when she is Marinette. Anticipation, too. Has Marinette been hanging out with a super villain for the past month? Has she really come to the point where she can call a supervillain her best friend?

Marinette takes another look at Damian’s outfit. Master Fu said that the Miraculous Hawkmoth owns is in the shape of a brooch. Marinette sees no such object on Damian, which could either mean that he’s not Hawkmoth or that he’s just been taking it off whenever he’s with her. She’s really hoping it’s not the second option.

She needs to gather her thoughts, make a plan on how to proceed. When she’s sure that Damian isn’t looking, Marinette sets off the ringtone that is saved for her Maman’s texts and calls. This catches Damian’s attention, and she waves looks up from her phone as though she’s responding.

“Maman wants me to do a delivery. If you’re looking for more information on the whole superhero situation in Paris, I can get you Alya’s number. She runs the Ladyblog-- I’m sure she’d be glad to talk with you.” Alya also has some of the worst conspiracy theories that Marinette has ever seen. She doesn’t often keep abreast of what the Ladyblog’s portrayal of Ladybug is, but back when Marinette and Alya were friends, she was subjected to wild theories that made her stomach nauseous with how little logic there was. Which means that if-- if-- Damian is actually Hawkmoth, he might be thrown off by what she says.

“I’ll see you on Monday? Jagged texted me last night and wants me to change the embroidery on his commission.” This isn’t exactly a lie; Jagged wants one of the smaller details to be changed, but it certainly won’t take as long as she’s suggesting. Marinette hopes that it’s enough of an excuse to get Damian off her back for the rest of today and tomorrow while she reevaluates her game plans and life choices.

Damian waves her off. “I don’t think that Ladyblogger girl knows anymore than I do. She’s of no help to me. I’ll see you on Monday.”

Marinette’s reaction to Damian’s questions are weird. There’s an underlying tension that she exuded before they parted ways, and he’s still thinking about it a day later.

Marinette, who he always finds near an akuma attack right after it occurs. Marinette, who is emotionally and physically superior to most other Parisians. Marinette, who hasn’t been akumatized in a class full of idiots and other victims. Marinette, who doesn’t like Ladybug even though she seems like a fairly competent and kind hero, despite the fact that she hasn’t caught Hawkmoth yet. Marinette, who rarely talks about akumas despite all of the time he spends with her, which is highly unusual because even people he only briefly meets manage to slip in something about akumas into the conversation. Damian feels like there must be some sort of connection between Marintte and the akuma situation that he’s not getting, but it’s eluding him.

He sits down with his laptop in his apartment and looks up information about Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She’s definitely just as talented as he suspected; in her ninth year of schooling, she won a Gabriel competition, participated in a music video of Clara Nightingale’s, and collaborated with Jagged Stone on an album cover. So that was how she met him-- he wondered, but never asked. There are also a few instagram posts that have tagged her as a good samaritan and a few articles that detail a small, asian girl who’s going around Paris helping random people that are in need.

The weird things that Damian finds are contained in her school records. She’s apparently in very good company with her IQ, but what’s more interesting is all the dates that she is tardy or absent from school. They line up perfectly with all of the dates that akumas appear. He feels dread gather in his stomach.

A few more searches seem to cement his growing suspicions. Around the same time that Marinette obtained a truce with Lila matched up with when theorists believed that the Italian girl started working with Hawkmoth. He reads the instagrams and tweets of her classmates from the first year that Hawkmoth arrived, which talk about how excellent Marinette is at calming them down and guiding them to a better place. He also reads the posts of Chloe Bourgeois and Alya Cesaire and the articles about Marinette and Evillustrator that tell a slightly different story-- that Marinette is capable of manipulating others into more unpleasant situations.

Damian jolts. There is an incoming call from his father.

“Are updates on Paris, Damian?”

Should he give them a clue to his growing suspicions that Marinette is Hawkmoth? No, he can’t tell them until he gathers more information.

“No,” he says. “Information about Hawkmoth and the Miraculous are hard to come by.”

There’s a sigh and what sounds like the rustling of papers from the other side. “I figured. Tim and Barbara can’t find anything over here, either, but the Justice League is worried. They want results.”

“The Justice League and I agreed that having Robin make an appearance would be beneficial. Gain Ladybug and Chat Noir’s trust, or find Hawkmoth. Information might come easier with your alter ego.”

“All right.”

Another pause. He and his father have always had an awkward relationship. Bruce didn’t know of his existence until he was ten, and by that time, the most formative years of Damian’s life had already passed. Bruce Wayne may be many things, but good at dealing with children, he is not. Even after adopting so many children, he doesn’t know how to raise a child. Damian and his brothers have all raised themselves, with Bruce only stepping in when one of them is really going off the rails.

“Is everything else going well in Paris? School is good?”

“School is fine.” Damian wonders whether he should tell his father about Marinette. About the girl who is kind and capable and scarily efficient at dispatching criminals for a citizen and-- he can’t think about her like that. He decides against telling his father about her. She might be Hawkmoth, after all, and confirming her existence to his father means that he’s denying that possibility. “Gotham?”

“Nothing out of the usual. A few run-ins with the Joker.”

Another silence. The lapses in conversation aren’t awkward, but Damian thinks of the playful banter Marinette has with her parents and frowns.

“Goodbye, Father.”

“Goodnight, Damian.”

Damian looks around at his empty apartment. There is nothing in it, except for his suitcase and a few pieces of furniture. It’s nothing like the manor, where he knows that Tim is up at all hours slaving away on another project that Damian rarely gets to see, or that Jason is in the training room with Dick joining him occasionally. He can’t pick a fight with Tim or have Dick try to mediate the conflicts between himself and Jason. No nightly patrols with three or four people talking over the comms, or near instantaneous backup when he gets into a tight spot. There is no Alfred or Barbara or Cassandra or Bruce here. Only Damian.

He looks down at his laptop, at the various information and images of Marinette that he has up on his screen. In good conscience, he can’t continue being friends with her. Not with the possibility that she is the person he’s trying to hunt down.

He remembers her saying that being lonely is different than being alone.

Damian is lonely.

Patrol is a necessary evil.

Ladybug doesn’t hate patrol. She’s not very fond of it, though. It cuts into time that she could be spending sleeping or designing or anything else, really. In the beginning, it started as a way to figure out how everything worked under the guise of the dark and without the constant threat of an akuma hanging over head. Then, it progressed into disproving the theory about Ladybug’s age, because civilians aren’t inclined to believe that a teenage girl who has school the next day would patrol every day in the early morning. Now, it shows the Parisians how devoted Ladybug is-- that’s something that she’s struggled with ever since withdrawing the Miraculous from all of the part time heroes-- and lets Marinette blow off any steam that she has.

Right now, Marinette needs to blow off a lot of steam. Still, even as Ladybug, as much as Marinette wants to scream to high hell and back about how she’s been friends-- very close friends, she’d dare to say-- with the same person who has been terrorizing Paris for years, she can’t. If she screams, there will be media coverage on it, and she doesn’t want to deal with what the press would write up some article about how Ladybug was overworked and needed to bring back the other heroes, or that Ladybug wasn’t mentally sound enough to take care of Paris, she should just give up the Miraculous, or that Ladybug’s scream was [insert some poetic nonsense that English teachers wax about for hours even though the author never intended the audience to read that deeply into it].

Marinette doesn’t want to admit it, but she’s gotten close to Damian. She’s as close to him as she is with Kagami, Luka, Jagged and Penny. Damian knows that she’s MDC. He knows her hopes and aspirations. He knows her family, knows the majority of her friends, and knows what’s important to her. It will be so easy for him to tear her apart now. Marinette isn’t sure what Hawkmoth is waiting for, but she almost hopes that he’ll get it over with sooner rather than later.

What will Hawkmoth do first? Go after the website that he helped her make, probably. Cut off the financial support that she could use to run away and create another identity. Then, he’ll go after her friends, few and far as they may be. Renee next. Her family, last. She wonders who Mayura is, if he is Hawkmoth. She hasn’t seen anyone that’s close to him. Then again, Damian reveals next to nothing about himself. She’s never even seen where he lives.

There’s a shadow on the rooftops.

God, of course Hawkmoth would send out an akuma today. He knows how horrible her mental state must be. There’s no way he wouldn’t take advantage of that.

She yoyos over to the shadow, not close enough to strike or apprehend, but close enough to easily give chase without the akuma being able to give her the slip.

“Ladybug,” the akuma says.

“Cut the crap. We all know you want the Miraculous, Hawkmoth. Let’s get to it.” The shadow steps forward where a street lamp illuminates its costume, and once again, she is assaulted by the barrage of colors on her eyes. After seeing how awful Damian’s color coordination was, it’s easy to come to terms with the awful designs of all of his costumes. Still, she’s surprised that the boy who dresses in the same outfit every day creates such outlandish costumes for all of his minions.

The akuma frowns, tenses.

“I’m not Hawkmoth,” it insists. “I’m Robin, a vigilante from Gotham. I’ve come to learn more about the current situation and aid you in taking Hawkmoth down.”

Ladybug scoffs. She’s not sure what this akuma’s tactic is, but none of the others have tried to lie to her so blatantly about their identity. And ripping off an identity? That is a new low, even for Hawkmoth. She’s sure that the real Robin didn’t agree to this, and if she were close with the vigilante, maybe she could get him to throw a lawsuit or two at Hawkmoth once he was in custody, just for kicks.

Robin the akuma scrambles, apparently looking for something that can verify his identity.

Ladybug strikes. There’s no pride in striking an opponent when they are distracted, but it’s a means to an end. If Damian is dumb enough to send out an akuma confused about its identity tonight of all nights-- a night where Ladybug is distressed and it would be all too easy to take advantage of her-- then she’s going to take advantage of it.

It’s easy to bind the akuma. Startlingly easy. The akuma is different tonight, then. His powers have something to do with close contact, maybe? Ladybug looks on his person for things that could be the point of akumatization, eyes flitting from Robin’s waistband to his mask.

She comes to an unpleasant conclusion. The measurements and the coloring are a perfect match. Hawkmoth has come to meet her in person.

“Damian,” Ladybug hisses.

Damian’s eyes widen, like he doesn’t know how she’s pieced together his identity. How stupid does he think she is? He’s been dropping hints constantly. Information a transfer to Paris shouldn’t know. Never telling Marinette anything personal. Always being near an akuma attack when it happens. It’s almost like he wanted her to figure out his identity.

“How did you know?”

“Please, Hawkmoth, did you really think that Marinette couldn’t connect the dots? You must have thought awfully little of her if you thought that your constant appearances near all of the akuma and questions about the Miraculous didn’t lead me to your identity.”

“Hawkmoth? Ladybug, I’m not Hawkmoth, I’m Robin.”

“And I’m the queen of England. Renounce your Miraculous now, Hawkmoth. Or I’ll beat you until you detransform and take it from you.”

Damian looks confused before his face contorts to an expression of resignation. He recognizes a cold fury in her eyes that is distinct to people who won’t give up until they get their way, and there’s really no other way around this right now. He should have brought his comm with him, but he wasn’t expecting to meet Ladybug tonight; he just wanted to assess the situation as Robin, to get out from his apartment for a second. Rookie mistake.

True to her word, Ladybug beats Damian unconscious and also until he’s black and blue. She’ll be lying if she didn’t say she took out some of her fury from the past years on him.

But here’s the thing; Damian doesn’t detransform. He stays in his god-awful costume that has the same disgusting shade of mustard yellow as that one top Damian owns. That’s not what’s supposed to happen. When Miraculous users faint, they detransform because it takes a sort of mental awareness to handle the powers bestowed upon them. Is it different because Damian is an akuma? Is there some sort of Miraculous bylaw that if a Miraculous user gets akumatized, they get to stay in their alternate form? Oh wait, that’s right, he’s an akuma, not Hawkmoth right now.

Ladybug stumbles forward, breaking all of the weapons that are on his belt, taking off his mask and breaking that as well. No akuma comes out. She tries his gloves, then his boots. She pats him down, seeing if there’s anything she missed. She rips his suit, too. Nothing. There’s no brooch in his personal effects either.

What is she supposed to do now?

Seeing no alternative, Ladybug picks Damian up and yoyos back to Tom and Sabine’s Boulangerie to safely detransform and figure out what the fuck is going on.

He’s not Hawkmoth, is the conclusion Marinette comes to after a side by side comparison of pictures of the vigilante and Damian. The horrifying conclusion: the person lying on the floor of her bedroom is actually Robin, the vigilante from Gotham.

Marinette knows it’s better to err on the side of caution, but she still buries her head in her hands in embarrassment. How can she have gotten him so wrong? She really needs to get better at reading people, because deciding that random civilians are Hawkmoth clearly has not paid off.

She also cannot believe that the Justice League has decided to step in now, and with a sidekick from America, of all things--Marinette is pretty sure that she sent the videos to the European branch. It must have been three years since her first notification to them. She contacted them immediately after Stoneheart, and again, after Syren when she was distraught at the death that surrounded her. With no response, there was nothing she could do. She has to start relying on herself and her own skills.

Ladybug only contacted them once more, after Heroes’ Day. At that point, Ladybug had been thinking for a while that someone who was naturally superpowered or someone with a high grade of intelligence-- like the heroes affiliated with the Justice League-- would do more harm than good if they were allowed in the city. After the devastation of her teammates being akumatized, and the nearly week long battle that ensued, she was certain that she could barely fight her teammates, let alone trained professionals. So with shaky hands and red rimmed eyes, she said to please disregard her earlier messages; the situation in Paris wasn’t that bad, and Ladybug could handle it.

Damian groans. Marinette jumps; he is waking up far earlier than she anticipated. She wants to transform back into Ladybug. Being in her spots gives her a pseudo sense of security. First, though, she has to restrain him. Even though he isn’t Hawkmoth, she’s not sure whether he’s a threat or not. She makes quick work of it, using the thickest zip ties that she has on hand and restraining his arms and legs.

She doesn’t get the chance to transform back into Ladybug, but that’s just as well, because at the end of the day, Marinette is the foundation of anything that makes Ladybug a hero to the public. Damian opens his eyes almost immediately after she has finished restraining him, taking in his surroundings and the person in front of him.

“Marinette? Where’s Ladybug?” No questions of how he got there; Ladybug can clearly carry her own weight and more. No questions as to why there are zip ties cutting into his wrists and ankles; he has seen too many of Marinette’s victims on the streets.

“What do you mean, where’s Ladybug?” Marinette is right in front of him. She might not have the suit on, but at the end of the day, she does have the Ladybug Miraculous, which means she’s Ladybug through and through, and Damian must know that. Otherwise, there’s no real reason for Robin to be spending so much time with Marinette. The fact that she feels more real and true to herself as Marinette than as Ladybug probably means nothing to him.

“She knocked me out on a rooftop. Didn’t know that you two knew each other personally. I’m not Hawkmoth, by the way.” He twitches, then realizes that he’s been tied up. “Why’d she leave me with you?”

So he doesn’t know that she’s also Ladybug? This whole thing keeps getting more confusing. Still, the less people that know about her alter ego, the better. Marinette will keep him in the dark. She attributes his blatant misunderstanding to the identity concealment magic of the Miraculous. It’s powerful stuff. If it didn’t exist, she’s sure she would have found concrete evidence as to who Hawkmoth is by now.

“She asked me to assess whether you were a threat or not. Whether or not she casts the Miraculous Cure is contingent on my response.”

“Ladybug wants you to assess whether I’m a threat or not? Why’d she leave a possible super villain with a civilian?”

“I help Ladybug out with many things.” Her voice turns to clinical detachment. She uses this method to dissociate as Ladybug when things get overwhelming. Assess the situation. Get in, deakumatize, get out. Marinette needs to distance herself. It’s bad enough that the situation is this convoluted, but she doesn’t need Damian to doubt Ladybug’s capabilities as well. “Ladybug knows that you’re not Hawkmoth now, and she knows that I can handle myself with any run of the mill bad guy, even if they are a supposed vigilante.”

“Tell me, Robin,” Marinette spits the name like a curse, “Why should I tell Ladybug that you’re not a threat? That you are who you say you are?”

In all honesty, all Marinette wants to do is knock Damian out again so she can collect her thoughts. She’s not sure how she should address his presence as Robin in Paris and is still reeling from the whiplash of thinking he was Hawkmoth only for him to turn into a foreign vigilante. Next thing she knows, he’ll tell her that his name isn’t even Damian Grayson. Well, now that she thinks about it, he’s definitely not. After this encounter finishes, she’ll look up Damian and Gotham and see what she gets.

He looks flustered, like he never expected anybody to question his identity or presence. It’s laughable, really. Marinette doubts that the Justice League actually sent him; he’s probably here to explore on his own. That means he’ll only be a pain in the ass to deal with. Maybe she needs to get into contact with the Justice League again, if only just so she can deport Robin with more ease.

“I can call Batman,” he says.

Marinette doesn’t think this is a very good solution. There’s no way for her to prove that the person on the other side actually is Batman and not some actor. But after racking her brain, she can’t come up with a much better solution. It’s not like Robin has any superpowers that she can request to see, and she doesn’t have a direct line to anybody from the Justice League.

“Fine. Call Batman.”

“It’s in the pocket near on my right side.” Marinette doesn’t bother going closer to him. She destroyed everything on him earlier, in case it was the akuma’s vessel. Ladybug thought she came across a phone, but now she’s glad she smashed it and left it on that random rooftop. He probably has some sort of tracker on his phone. In any case, Marinette thinks it’s weird for a vigilante to have a phone on them while on the rooftops. Shouldn’t he have an earpiece or something?

“Your phone was destroyed by Ladybug. Tell me the number to call. I’ll put it on speaker.” Marinette isn’t sure if the number he’ll have her call will be some sort of secure connection or direct line that is only accessible through Damian’s phone, but she doesn’t particularly care because the Miraculous Communicators are exactly that. Miraculous. Master Fu assured her that all communications were private and impossible to crack unless they also had a Miraculous. Which is why she’s using the Miraculous Communicator to call Batman.

Damian winces, then speaks into the offered phone.

“Batman, it’s Robin. I need to verify my identity in order to proceed.”

“Are you with Ladybug?”

So he is on a mission, then, and not just playing hooky. If Batman is involved, Marinette has no doubt the rest of the Justice League will follow soon. This will be a dreadfully unpleasant call.

“I’m making it a video call,” Marinette says. “And no, he’s not with Ladybug. I’m Ladybug’s point of contact, and she doesn’t take kindly to people encroaching on her territory without permission.”

“Robin, what happened?” Batman isn’t accepting her video request.

Marinette cuts off whatever Damian is about to say. “Damian was suspicious; I reported his activities to Ladybug and she believed that he could be Hawkmoth. Then, she caught him on the roofs and took him back to my place after verifying that he wasn’t Hawkmoth. Video call, Batman. I’d like to see that you are who you say you are, before I send Robin back to the states.”

“She knows your civilian identity? Two people know that you’re Robin?”

“Turn your video on. If you can’t prove that you are who Damian says you are, Ladybug and I will do everything in our powers to deport him and make sure that the Justice League is not allowed in Paris again. Ladybug said that she doesn’t need any unknowns in her city, and I’ve been hoping Robin came here of his own volition. It sounds like that isn’t the case.”

Marinette thinks that Batman curses in English, but she’s not sure. Fluent though Marinette may be, she is not well versed in curses, colloquialisms, or American memes. The camera turns on. It’s Batman, or at the very least, an actor wearing a very good knock off costume.

It’s annoying that Marinette can’t see his eyes. There’s some white film where his eyes should be, and the fact that his cowl covers more than half of his face isn’t doing her any favors in letting her read his facial expression. She moves herself so that Batman can see both her and Robin.

“Why is Robin restrained?”

“Like I said: he was suspicious. I’m not taking any chances.”

A moment of silence.

“How do you want me to prove my identity?”

That’s good. He’s not asking who she is, though she’s sure that there are cameras pointing at the screen on Batman’s end, running facial analysis and background checks on her. The Miraculous magic will ensure that any connections between her and Ladybug will not come to light. Other than her identity as Ladybug, Marinette has nothing to hide.

“If you’re Batman, then you should have access to the League’s calls, European and otherwise. Play me the last video that Ladybug sent you. I know what she said.” She spares a glance at Damian. His jaw is tight, but when he looks at her, she finds what looks like regret. It’s not entirely Damian’s fault. A mission is a responsibility, and Marinette understands that in order to be a hero or vigilante, one must be willing to do anything to accomplish the mission. Really, she’s only Ladybug because she feels that heavy weight of the words duty and responsibility on her shoulders. Fu’s fault.

“Behave. If you try something, I’ll knock you out.” Marinette sets the communicator on her desk and eyes him. The zipties are so tight around his arms and legs that he is bleeding. Marinette feels a flash of sympathy, then pushes it away. It was his fault for-- why was he at fault, again?

“I have the video.” Batman sounds even peakier than when they started the call. He plays the video.

“Justice League. This is Ladybug. I rescind my requests for help; I can take care of Paris with my own team. Any help from you at this point would be a detriment and could potentially harm the citizens of Paris. Hawkmoth manipulates strong emotions, and I don’t need to handle a metahuman or tactical genius to gain more power to wreak havoc on my city. I will not contact you with any further requests for assistance.”

It’s an awful video. Marinette had to wait a day after the Heroes’ week fiasco just so her eyes wouldn’t be red. At least her voice doesn’t waver in it. There’s a conviction in the whole video that was unique to that moment.

Marinette looks at Batman, then at Robin.

“Clearly the Justice League refused to listen. Ladybug doesn’t want or need your help at this point in time. Why are you here?”

“The Justice League is at fault for not paying attention to Ladybug’s other videos. But Mayor Bourgeois and President Macron can only cover such alarming incidents for so long. Ladybug and her… team clearly need help in order to find and take down Hawkmoth, so once the American branch of the Justice League found out half a year ago, we started to investigate.” Batman speaks in lieu of Damian. Marinette briefly wonders if Damian knows who Batman is under the mask. She bets he does. They’re probably close, what with how worried Batman sounds.

“What makes you think that the Justice League is any better equipped to handle this situation? Ladybug and her team have been fighting for the past three years and resolved every akuma with no help from you. She needed your help in earlier years. Now she doesn’t.”

“Exactly; it’s been three years and she still hasn’t caught Hawkmoth.”

“You say that like the Justice League doesn’t have a team with more wealth and manpower than Ladybug does that’s been looking into Hawkmoth and the Miraculous for the past half year and clearly has not found any reasonable leads. Ladybug has only been actively looking for Hawkmoth for the past two years, not three. The police handled the first year, not that you’ve done any homework on the situation. Thought that a field agent would help your chances?”

There is fire in Marinette’s stomach. Batman sounds so dismissive of all of the work that she’s been doing. It’s been hard on her; she doesn’t have the support that she needs and doesn’t have the experience or expertise to hunt down Hawkmoth on her own. She trained briefly under Master Fu to learn spells and ways to expand her powers as Ladybug, but that was an equivalent exchange: she no longer trusts that other holders won’t be akumatized. Her growing cynicism and physical training from Maman came at the expense of Chat Noir; after the whole Lila incident in her first year as Ladybug, she found out that Chat Noir and Adrien were one and the same. And Gabriel Agreste is not afraid to use his son until Adrien is stretched far too thin, which forced Marinette to nearly bench her partner.

“Three years,” Batman says again.

“If the Justice League can’t figure it out nearly unlimited resources and funding in half a year-- both ordinary and super human-- then clearly it isn’t a question of time. It’s a question of capability. Get off your high horse, Batman. You haven’t given me any reasons why Ladybug and I shouldn’t deport Robin here, and you’re definitely not making a good case as to why she shouldn’t go to Mayor Bourgeois and France’s president to ensure that the Justice League and its affiliates and ban hero travel into Paris. Bourgeois already doesn’t want information on it’s supervillain situation to get out.”

“Marinette,” Damian pleads.

As Robin and as Damian, he doesn’t pose a threat. He hasn’t been helpful, but he certainly hasn’t messed with the status quo for the month that he’s been here. Still, he is a liability. If he stays in Paris, he is the gateway for the other members of the Justice League to fly in and try to commandeer the fragile balance that she has found. She can’t afford for something like that to happen.

“You’re not any better, Robin. Why did you even hang around me? Thought I was a threat?” Her eyes narrow in realization. It makes sense why he decided to hang out with her, despite his initial cold front. He was playing a role.“You thought I was Hawkmoth.”

His silence is an agreement.

“We just want to help,” Damian says, and against her better judgement, Marinette believes him.

Her shoulders round, and Marinette sighs. She can’t truly begrudge Damian for that train of thought, not when she believed the same about him. She’s been a little harsh on them so far, in part due to old resentment that they never responded to her in that first, awful year when she needed the help.

There’s a dull tiredness that comes with knowing someone who she considered one of her closest friends suspected her of being a supervillain, though she did believe the same of him, so maybe they’re even. It still hurts, though. It hurts like when Alya decided that Marinette was mean-hearted enough to stop the members of their class from reaching their full potential. It hurts like when Marinette finally realized that she couldn’t repair their friendship, not to what it used to be. It hurts like when she looked around the classroom and realized that she couldn’t talk to anyone there. It hurts like when Marinette decided that she couldn’t risk helping her friends the way she wanted to.

“What kind of help can you offer us? We don’t need any more of you to come out here.” Resources are nice. More money to fund therapy programs around town won’t hurt. Master Fu doesn’t help on that part. Really, he doesn’t help at all. Even though she has Chat Noir and had a team, she often feels like it’s herself against the world. Some days, she reaches up to her earrings and feels an aching emptiness, like there’s something more to the Miraculous that’s been sealed away.

“We can give you resources. Money, connections, experience. Robin is good with technology. He can help you track down where Hawkmoth is.”

Marinette’s laugh is bitter. “Sure, he can try, but the butterflies Hawkmoth sends out aren’t visible by the normal human eye or electronically until they’ve found their mark. Once they’re purified, they’re just normal butterflies, and they go off in random directions.”

“Normal human eye? It sounds like there are exceptions.” Damian readjusts himself. He has fidgeted his way into an uncomfortable looking seiza position, where his ankles are bleeding.

“A true holder can see the butterflies at all times.”

Marinette also decides to throw them a bone so there’s no questions as to why a mere civilian is working with Ladybug. “That’s why Ladybug recruited me. I was Multimouse.”

Multimouse was in the file that Damian sent his father, but he asks, just to make sure. “The one that can split itself?”

“That’s correct. I guess now is as good a time as any for the two of you to get your questions answered.”

“Why are you the point of civilian contact instead of any of the other more frequently used heroes? Didn’t you appear only once?” Damian avoids looking Marinette in the eyes, and that makes her feel slightly better. He’s ashamed of his actions. Good.

“Ladybug said that the other hero’s civilian forms were either compromised or not in a good position.”

“Ladybug knows who all the holders are.” Batman speculates. He looks less tense now that Damian is no longer tied up, but his voice remains gravelly and distrubed. Maybe that’s what he sounds like all the time. “Who else knows? Do you?”

“Only Ladybug knows.” Marinette lives in half truths. She’s not sure that they’re much better than lies, but they’re all she has. Secrecy is the only thing Master Fu has sincerely taught her.

“Why have all the other heroes disappeared?”

“Ladybug said that it was too dangerous for someone who could be akumatized to hold a Miraculous. Rena Rage, Shell Shock, Queen Wasp-- they were all frighteningly powerful akumas. It’s also why Chat Noir has been showing up less and less; his home life is not the best, and she’s trying her best to ensure that he doesn’t get akumatized.”

“She’s not worried for herself or,” Damian’s eyes flick to Marinette, away from Batman. “For you?”

“She knows that both of us are good at dealing with stress. We have our own methods of coping.” She looks at Damian, her mouth tightening into a frown. “If you want to stay in Paris, I’ll cut you a deal. We can work together for two weeks, and if we don’t get any results, you have to leave and the Justice League must promise that they won’t interfere again.”

“Two weeks isn’t enough time,” Damian objects.

“If you don’t think it’s enough time, just leave now. I’ll say now that I’m only willing to work with you during the night. That’s the time I work on Miraculous related stuff now, anyways. And stay out of the akuma battles.” She doesn’t actually think that working together will help anyways, and she wants Damian gone sooner rather than later. He’s been making her feel too much and emotions that are far more explosive and easy to take advantage of than Marinette has in a long time. She doesn’t want to be targeted by an akuma because of her inner conflict.

“Two weeks, then,” Batman agrees. “Robin can contact me if you need any extra resources.”

Marinette hangs up and assesses Damian. He looks almost pitiful, with bruising around his eyes, tousled hair, a ripped suit, and cuts where his skin is exposed. She opens her trap door in a clear gesture for him to depart. Downstairs is dark; her Maman and Papa have long since gone to sleep, and it’s only a few more hours until they wake up to start baking. “We start tomorrow. If you need Ladybug for anything, tell me.”

He’s half way down the ladder when he looks back up at Marinette, into her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Marinette can’t breath. She feels like vomiting. His eyes are so green in comparison to the purple bruising on his face. She did that to him. She made him look that way. All she’s ever wanted to do as Ladybug is protect the people she cared for. But Damian-- Marinette doesn’t know. She doesn't know whether what Damian has done can actually be described as bad. He was just trying to do what Batman told him to do. Keeping an eye on a threat. Marinette wonders how long he thought she was Hawkmoth. She wonders if he ever thought they were friends.

“I’m sorry too,” Marinette says, and shuts the trap door.

They’re both sorry for very different things.

#miraculous ladybug #dcu #mlb x dc #maribat #daminette #batfam #jason todd #bruce wayne #dick grayso #barbara gordon #sbgs #original content #adrien agreste #lila rossi #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne

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pentyler · 4 years

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Penny Tyler Intro

BASICS

★ BIRTH DATE / 1 December, 1955 (i think LMAO) ★ BLOOD STATUS / Half-blood ★ PRONOUNS & IDENTITY / she/her; cis female ★ FACECLAIM / Tristin Mays

ACADEMICS & ROOMING

★ PRIMARY SCHOOL / London School of Witchcraft, class of 1974 ★ ACADEMIC PURSUITS / Pre-Auror ★ HOUSE & YEAR / Gryffindor, class of 77

( alcohol abuse cw, abuse cw )

POINTS OF INTEREST

★ Penelope was happy being poor, alone, and without any ounce of weight to her name. She was alright with being “Penny Tyler” the girl with a muggle father who left when she was six, a borderline alcoholic witch for a mother who tried her best to give Penny everything she needed to be successful in life, and one or two friends at London School who were there when she needed them, but never suffocated her. She was okay being the girl that no one knew existed, or cared about if they did. In fact, she almost loved that fact. She didn’t have to talk in class, she didn’t need to act like a good friend or pretend that she cared about other people. Everything seemed, for once, to be going alright. Then, of course, her mom fell in love (or so she claimed).

★ Augustine Nott came from a long line of pureblood wizards, and with that came a lot of gold and a big reputation, one that her mother was more than happy to become a part of. Parties every weekend and fancy gifts delivered to their dilapidated doorstep; those were the things that Mrs. Tyler lived for, and suddenly they were all hers. The wedding was fast, unexpected, and huge -- married in June of 1974. The gossip that followed it was even bigger. Penny’s mother was nothing to the pureblood family that Augustine came from; she was trash, and by association so was Penny. Nevermind that she didn’t want to live in his lavish house with his House Elf and seven bedrooms and four and a half baths. She was her mother’s daughter, and she was going to be known for it. She had a name to uphold now, there were people (her peers) that she had to socialize with and parties she had to attend, and no matter how much she wished that going to Hogwarts for her 1st year would change that, she found out it only got worse.

★ Silas Nott entered the world at only 6lbs 6oz a year after the wedding. Yet the tiniest of things, make the largest impacts. The maddening part about it all was, Penny never wanted any part of it, yet it was clear, when it came to her new baby brother, she was the person who cared the most. And being away at Hogwarts, away from him, and knowing the care that he was in (trust her, she’d grown up with Vera Tyler as a mother herself), only added to the stress. It led to outbursts in lessons, physical altercations with other students in the corridors, and a foul mouth on the quidditch pitch. Penny was kicked from the quidditch team -- one she even captained as a Seeker. But that was the only consequence she ever faced among all the incidents in her years at Hogwarts. She hated the privilege her name brought, but at least she didn’t have to kiss away her dreams of being an Auror. Penny’s currently in her last year of the Auror Academy. And while her dreams are soon to come true, she has more goals now. In her heart, she knows the influence Silas was under could forever change him. Her endgame was to have custody of him. No matter what it took.

★ It was undeniable that Penny took after her mother, the way she fell quick, hard, and deep for a wizard. Ten years her senior, Andrew Porter worked tirelessly as a well trained Hit Wizard. They’d met as soon as Penny entered the academy. It even being on her very first day had her thinking, perhaps fate did exist, and they weren’t all aimlessly wandering about. They were engaged only three months later, with a rushed wedding following everything else. But to Penny, this wasn’t rushing. This was love and why would she wait for love? But this romance was a whirlwind for a reason. The first year -- marital bliss. Nothing but surprise dates, apartment shopping, and they even got a dog together. The second year, things began to fizzle out. But, that’s what Penny had expected. That’s what she’d been taught her whole life, watching her mother go through men. The excitement wore off as you entered the “normal stage”. But what about arguing every week, sleeping in different beds, and deciding to work overtime was normal?

★ She’d learned he’d lied about a few things since meeting -- all to make himself seem... superior. Did this man have a God complex? Was this relationship only feeding his ego? At times, it’s all it felt like, when she wasn’t being made to feel crazy. There was nothing but a sense of false security and though Penny did not quit a thing in her life, she had to escape. This was not setting any better example for Silas, after all. And wasn’t her baby brother the priority in her life? Penny had wasted so much of herself admiring this man, for nothing in return. He hadn’t helped build up Penny’s self-love, not once, and it was as soon as she realized that, did she file for divorce finally. This was in November of 1979 and while the divorce isn’t yet finalized, Penny is out of their house and has avoided all contact with him since. Recently, she’s couch surfing with her dog as she searches for a new place to live and trying to find a sense of purpose again.

TRAITS

✓ athletic; independent; adventurous ✗ bitter; aloof; quick-tempered

EXTRA FUN STUFFS

whale HELLO! this is the love of my life penny tyler, comin’ atcha with a fresh face and backstory!!! i wanted an old character to connect with all da older bbs ~ so everyone come at me, but definitely da “older” crew!!

her about page & pinterest

is a few months away from becoming an official auror! so we will soon be responding to all the fuckin war crimes that yall be committing in this universe DLKFALKJLSKDF;J hit us up if you ever need anything auror related!

penny is definitely ACAB but you gotta fight the system from the inside!!! she also has this antiquated dream that she is going to “save the world one day”

grew up rather poor and doesnt take shit for granted much because of it

she can be a bit Intense or Abrasive so i APOLOGIZE in advance! i do not support physical violence but ms penny says what u gonna do about it punk !! maybe it’s cuz she’s a sag idk dont perceive us basically

she also has attended a lot of pureblood events and parties since her mum got married in ‘74. so!!! connections there too >: )

has currently been couch surfing since her divorce! so if you’re one of those couches, hmu :)

is craaaaazzzzyyyyyy about music!!! has a vinyl collection thats p much her pride and joy and what most of her money has gone into over the years

picked the “ugliest” dog at the shelter and made it hers!!! her name is blair lol

okay i think i got what i needed to out but yeah!! IM HYPE YEET

#sleepingdintro

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jordyngellerxo · 4 years

Text

THE FIGHT.

summary: caleb & zeke get into a fight at at the charity ball event during the aspen trip. involved: zeke king, caleb walsh feat. jordyn geller, nicole hampton

** TRIGGER WARNINGS: physical altercation, arguments, mentions of cheating, blood mentions. **

TAGGED: CALEB WALSH @calebfck, ZEKE KING @zekehq, NICOLE HAMPTON @nicolehampton

CALEB.

caleb always felt out of place at fancy parties and events. truth be told, if it weren't for jordyn, he would have gladly just donated a good amount of money and stayed home in his pajamas. the only thing that made the night tolerable was the open bar, which he had been taking advantage of from the moment he and jordyn walked through the door. he lost track of how many drinks he had about four drinks ago, but he really didn't care. he was on the verge of blacking out and was well past his limit, but he was having fun. so, he really had to thank the countless beers in his system for that. he was dancing with jordyn and laughing with her friends, which rarely happened. he was even okay with being within five feet of that zeke kid who always seemed to be getting under his skin in someway. he peered down at jordyn with a lazy smile, "this is a lot more fun than i thought it would be," he shouted over the music and the hum of conversation around them, "we need to get some food soon, or im not going to remember any of this."

NICOLE/JORDYN.

they were easily almost two hours into the event and it had been going surprisingly well. it took forever to convince caleb to come, even longer to deny his first three choices of a wardrobe, but it wasn't for not. they made it and were actually having fun. jordyn had been in her own special version of heaven. arm draped loosely around nicole with her head rested on her shoulder, devilish grin beaming towards zeke before caleb broke her attention from wordlessly poking her best friend. jordyn's brow arched quizzically and she almost had to ask him to repeat himself until nicole's voice chimed in closer to her ear, "my husband said he's having fun but hungry and you need to feed him... before he passes out like a little baby bitch." the blonde pressed a kiss to the dark haired beauty's cheek as jordyn let out a sigh. "i suppose we can find something for you to eat." she hummed, planting a kiss to caleb then offering an apologetic look to nicole whom she was forced to move to get up, "you gonna come help me find food for the big baby?" jordyn asked, holding her hand out for zeke as she batted her lashes at him.

ZEKE.

zeke wasn't the type to waste his chances for throwing back liquor and celebrating... anything deemed appropriate by the blond. mostly he enjoyed celebrating himself. did he ever foresee himself within close range distance of any kind with jordyn's fiance? not at all, especially considering he never liked to address the other man by his name, let alone breathe in the same space as him. being at a charity event of any kind wasn't the time or the place for him to get into trouble, so he kept as best a distance as he could within the time span that he'd been here. rolling his eyes as he watched her being smug and tempting him to stick his tongue out like a child. he couldn't help but snicker at the whole conversation or the fact that caleb seemed to be rather lightweight in comparison to jordyn. tossing his head back, an exaggerated sigh slipped from zeke's mouth as he debated his options. "are we getting more shots, too? cause i need more liquor in my system." even as he'd already chosen that going with his friend was a more favorable option than being in caleb's presence.

CALEB.

caleb kept his arm wrapped around jordyn's waist as he stood up, "see? this is why i love you. you don't get too mad when i need food at these ridiculously long parties," he grinned. caleb looked over at nicole and shook his head, "and you," he pointed at her, "you don't get to call me a little bitch when i know about your secret little rendezvous with you know who," he sang and gave a pointed look toward zeke before he tapped his finger on the tip of nicole's nose. he definitely should not have said that as loud as he did, but his inhibitions were long gone. looking back at jordyn he tilted his head to the side, "do you think they've got steak? or is this an hors d'oeuvres situation?"

NICOLE/JORDYN.

jordyn’s gaze shifted up to mouth an i love you to caleb, who was watching her with that drunken twinkle in his eye. her expression was full of amusement…but not surprise. caleb could do anything, but truth be told, jordyn could drink him under the table any day of the week. a trait she got from her father. "mhm, be sure to add that in your vows. that just really hits home for me, all star." the brunette hummed which made nicole chuckle. nicole, who too had been drinking since she'd arrived, was now using jordyn as cover to cuddle into to keep her out of trouble and from looking over to her ex. the sweet smile on her characteristics full of amusement for caleb's drunken ramble falling as he continued speaking. in fact, she froze, no longer protected by jordyn. she couldn't figure what he was talking about. they'd been pretty good tonight. or tried to in front of people. unless caleb wasn't talking about tonight. nikki's eyes swiftly darted up and narrowed on caleb. she couldn't even move after his drunken slur when his finger landed on her nose. the only person who knew about her only rendezvous was olivia. she couldn't see zeke spilling details of her birthday night to anyone... not after everything they'd been through, not with how he was with her... but especially not confiding their friend's fiancé. that didn't stop her heart from dropping to the pit of her stomach. "caleb, you're drunk... i think it's bedtime for you." nicole spoke, her voice sweet but with a hidden harshness in her tone after clearing her throat. jordyn's eyes flickered around the group. nikki's puzzled face, caleb's dumbstruck grin, watching as he looked to zeke. her jaw damn near hit the floor as she hushed her soon to be husband, tilting her head as her sights zeroed in on her ride or die. "so... food? shots? zeke you wanna go down a few with me? anything for anyone before i go get this big baby to bed?" jordyn asked in attempts to lighten the mood and divert attention for caleb's rambles.

ZEKE.

zeke had been focused on the prospect of alcohol, ignoring a majority of what slipped out of the other’s mouth. amber hues and his full attention zeroed in as he spoke to nicole, his entire body going ridged. the blond hadn’t told anyone about his stolen moments with nicole, let alone caleb of all people. his thoughts circled back to the one night that could be what the other male was talking about the same time he was searching nicole’s expression for reassurance that she hadn’t confided about that night to caleb. he couldn’t see it, but none of that mattered to the feelings surface within as he stood there. “maybe you should watch what the fuck you’re speakin’ on when it has nothing to do with you.” he glared at the other male, before letting his attention return to his best friend. “no, no, moments passed i wanna know what the fuck ol dude thinks he knows so much about now.”

CALEB.

caleb was drunk, but he wasn’t drunk enough to immediately know that he had fucked up. that he had fucked up in a major way, at that. he cleared his throat and stood up straight. he forgot that he was the only one that knew that he knew what had happened in jordyn’s bar. “right,” he mumbled, “i’m too drunk,” he agreed. he was ready to leave the party and leave it at that, but of course things couldn’t be that easy. zeke had to say something and there was no way caleb could just let it go. his arm around jordyn’s waist tightened ever so slightly as he turned to glare zeke, “and maybe you shouldn’t fuck another dudes girl in my fiancé’s bar,” he growled lowly. there really was no going back now. the shots had been fired and he’d have to deal with the consequences tomorrow.

NICOLE/JORDYN.

just like that, in the blink of an eye things had gone from bad to worse. it was almost impossible for jordyn to keep her eyes from popping out of her head nor the unruly gasp which escaped from her lips as she stood there. her brain frantically trying to process and defuse the situation at the same time, but that was wishful thinking. she opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. that's when nicole's voice sounded and stole the words right from her mouth. "caleb!" the blonde hissed, voice lowered, green eyes locked on jordyn's soon to be husband. "you don't have the slightest clue on what you're talking about and whatever happens between me and zeke is absolutely none of your business. at all." she couldn't tell if it was her defensiveness over the look exchanged from caleb to zeke, or the idea of him running his mouth on a situation that she didn't regret, but didn't want an entire charity event to be privy to. "caleb, what the fuck. just stop. leave whatever this is alone." jordyn murmured trying to keep whatever this was under wraps. "i think we should just call it a night, walsh."

ZEKE.

zeke could barely hear the attempts being made to diffuse the situation and shut caleb up, but he’s caught the words that the other male had tossed in his direction and he stepped closer toward the other, his features tightened as he glared. “and you should learn not to act like a little fucking bitch and open your mouth on something that you know fuck all about. not only out of respect for your wife but your friend,” he all but spat the words in disgust as he scoffed out a harsh laugh. “if you can’t handle your liquor maybe you should slow it the fuck down when you’re in public. talk about some loose fuckin lips, you’re marrying one nosey motherfucker, jordynella. “ tossing a half glance at his friend but keeping his eyes on the other male for the most part.

CALEB.

it was easy for caleb to ignore nicole and jordyn's attempts to get him to shut the hell up once zeke started to get more aggresive with him. he knew there was no chance that they were going to avoid some kind of altercation between the two of them. honestly, it was a long time coming. caleb was pretty sick of zeke's holier-than-thou attitude he had whenever caleb was out with him and jordyn. he looked between the two girls and scoffed, "i know exactly what i'm talking about and you do too," he rolled his eyes. "you didn't have to react to what i said, you all made it obvious what i was talking about." he did try to not mention names or speak loudly enough for other people to hear him. as soon as zeke moved closer to him, caleb stiffened, "how the fuck am i nosey? it's not my fault you were careless and didn't check to turn of the fucking alarm. you're lucky i didn't call the cops on your dumb ass," he growled. caleb was getting heated maybe a little too fast, but he wasn't about to stop. "and you know what? forget all the rest of this shit," he huffed, "i'm sick and fucking tired of your rude little remarks and blatant disrespect. i've done nothing to you and you're an ass to me for no fuckin reason," he continued without missing a beat. he had sobered up pretty quickly and was ready for a fight. "you know, maybe we should take this outside," he spat.

NICOLE/JORDYN.

there were a lot of things that nicole hampton could stomach or would actively play off like she could but hearing someone or anyone speak to... or at zeke the way caleb was something that struck a nerve so hard and deep she couldn't see straight. she could handle her own when it came to defending herself and her choices, but what she wouldn't stand for or allow under any circumstances was someone especially a drunken caleb. "that is absolutely none of your fucking business like i said." even knowing she was done with anything involving her ex old habits died hard, and there wasn't a single person she'd be even the slightest bit okay with speaking to him the way he was being spoken to now. "jordyn gave the keys to me, not zeke. i had him meet me, so if you wanna be a bitch about things caleb... be a bitch to the right person. even more proof you don't have a single clue about when your talking about with your whole ass chest." all the while jordyn had managed to shift from caleb's grasp, sighing heavily as her blood pressure rose quick in speed. "it's my fucking bar?! i'll give my keys to whoever i want, and i'll decide if and when i call the cops." she hissed towards caleb, "and you, you don't get to give me the side eye. he's drunk - both of you are being fucking stupid for no god damn reason. enough, seriously."

ZEKE.

zeke had never been quiet about his dislike for caleb, despite the rest of the world including jordyn viewing the pair as cute. did he have a real reason for instantly hating the other? probably not, but once zeke made his mind up fully on a subject he closed himself off to the potential to change opinions. petty, always something that could be said for the king male but he had never been one to shy away from an argument or a fight. his gaze shifted to nicole, hating the idea that she was attempting to defend him after their earlier moment and the fact that he wasn’t the type to shut up. “you were real fucking private about tossing a look at me, so the fuck do you think I was gonna do? sit the fuck back while you continue to talk bullshit? you made it pretty fucking obvious where you were tryna throw accusations around when I don’t give a fuck what you saw,” zeke cocked his head, the actor forcing out a fake laugh as he rolled his eyes. “you still don’t know shit. you’re nosey cause you out here trying spread shit like it had shit to do with you. like it’s your business to be worried about. probably fucking should have, do you think i give a fuck? or that I’d thank your ass? how fucking delusional.” the blonde let out another harsh bought of laughter as he listened to caleb complain over his attitude. “i don’t fucking like you, that’s reason enough I don’t give a single shit about you. I hope to god one day you actually are worthy of my best friend right there but i highly fucking doubt I’ll ever believe that or see that.” all but sneering the words. pausing to offer another sarcastic laugh to jordyn’s comment, he shook his head. “ he should learn to hold his liquor and keep his mouth shut.” motioning towards the outside, zeke shrugged. “let’s fucking go.”

CALEB.

caleb clenched his jaw and looked at nicole, "fine. i don't know what i'm talking about," he stated. he wasn't going to fight with nicole. he never had a problem with her and didn't want to cause trouble for her. it was easy to let that shit go. he more focused on zeke's arrogant ass at this point, anyway. he let zeke finish his little rant and his insults. he knew the words didn't matter at the end of the day."you didn't have to fucking react," he replied. "if i wanted a secret kept and someone said something about it, i sure as hell wouldn't react, but maybe that's just me," he rolled his eyes. "it's said and done, get over it." caleb was ready to show this kid his place and he would have no regrets kicking his ass. he could floor someone twice zeke's size in under ten seconds, and that was on a bad day. caleb laughed suddenly, "you think i give two shits if you like me? i couldn't care less. you know absolutely nothing about me and jordyn, so if you're gonna go off on a rant about me not talking on things i know nothing about," he mocked zeke, "then you need to shut the hell up about my relationship. she is the only person i care about when all is said and done and she knows that." he could have gone on for hours about jordyn and how much he loved her, but he was already seeing red and had been ready to punch zeke for a good while now. he exhaled heavily and walked toward the door, making sure to shoulder check zeke as he passed him on the way out.

NICOLE/JORDYN.

jordyn's limits of stupidity had passed minutes ago, someone with four older brothers knew exactly how this was going to play out. they were going to get in touch with some deep rooted grasp for the title of supreme masculinity ruler, act like absolute idiots in front of everyone all over something that shouldn't have been spoke of in the first place. that was the most disconcerting part of this whole ordeal. she peeled her eyes from zeke and caleb long enough to see some of the color return to nicole's face, protectively draping an arm over her shoulder only for her to instantly shake it off. "caleb," nicole said, cocking her head back before bringing it back to her rightful place to look at the athlete beside her, "who the fuck are you talking to right now? because i know it's not zeke... and i know you aren't getting all knee deep into things that did or didn't happen that really didn't involve you no matter what you think you saw. it's not just get over it, because it's not just about zeke." jordyn shook her head, pulling nicole back as it became all the more obvious where this was heading, "let 'em go, sniks." it was easier said than done, being as both unwillingly trailed behind after watching the man she was weeks away from marrying shoulder check her best friend, her for all intents and purposes her platonic soulmate. "zeke... don't it's not worth it." nikki called out, it wasn't her place nor business but the last thing everyone needed was either of them throwing hands during a charity event, jordyn's voice trailing not far behind, "caleb, i swear on everything... you lay one single fuckin finger on him, i'll kick your ass." jordyn's brown eyes narrowing on zeke, "don't be fuckin' stupid. over nothing, zeke. seriously."

ZEKE.

zeke couldn’t hear or see anything past his irritation with the footballer, logic had never been his strong suit. the blond already disliked the guy and he’d spoken on something that wasn’t his business. isaac king was a lot of things but he wasn’t someone about to back down from a fight. sure, caleb was taller and an athlete but zeke had enough fights under his belt. he wasn’t kidding any of the times he threw out his dodgeball practice and dodging skills either. undoubtedly, zeke was going to leave the fight looking less pretty than he preferred to be but he wasn’t going to go down easy and he’d not be the only one taking hits. even if he was certain that any onlookers would assume so from his height. ignoring the rest of caleb’s commentary because there was never a time when he listened to anyone and he wasn’t about to start now, he followed the other male with every intent to fight him. momentarily paused by nicole’s call out but after their last interaction his look over of the femme was short lived as he clenched his jaw. turning to his friend, he raised a brow. “It’s not nothing. He don’t need to worry about shit that has nothing to do with him.” He didn’t pinpoint that he meant his situation with nicole, or that night. he didn’t need to. despite the liquor in his system, zeke felt more than sober.

CALEB.

caleb chose to ignore nicole. they were well past the point where any reasoning would stop them from fighting. he knew the headlines were gonna be messy and that a lot of people would have a lot to say, but he just didn't care anymore. he turned around to look at jordyn and shrugged his shoulders, "then kick my ass, jord. this has been a long time coming and you know it. this dude has been disrespectful for too fuckin long and i'm sick of it." his voice was very matter of fact and he made sure he left no room for argument. he knew jordyn would kick his ass or just make him sleep on the couch for a few days, but that wasn't anything he couldn't handle. once they were outside, caleb made sure to walk a good distance away from the doors the came out. he was stupid, but he wasn't stupid enough to get into a fight right in the open. he didn't want to draw too much attention. as soon as he was a good distance, he turned to zeke and his fist was flying toward the actor's face.

NICOLE/JORDYN.

"you know what, caleb, fuck you then." jordyn said, causing nicole to jump. even after nicole and zeke’s altercation, after her saying she was done she couldn’t help but feel like her heart had plunged full speed into the pit of her stomach following her and zeke’s exchange of looks. this didn’t involve her, not anymore, not after she’d essentially just finished telling her ex they were finished for good. those were just words, her senses numbed to anything besides the fact she couldn’t comprehend something happening to the father of her child. being finished didn’t stop her from standing there, heart racing as she witnessed caleb toss his fist in zeke’s direction. her gasp and initial reaction was to step in only to be stopped by jordyn’s hands on her shoulders pulling her back until she inevitably gave in. “nicole, no. they’re acting like idiot cavemen, so fuck ‘em both.” jordyn hissed, pulling nicole back in with a grimace at the view before them, jaw tightening. the fact caleb, in front of anyone in earshot, decided to say something about zeke and nicole and things unbeknownst to her happening in her own bar only irritated her more. there was a certain code between jordyn and zeke, see nothing say nothing. caleb using her as an excuse to get into a physical altercation with her best friend didn’t sit well, in fact, she stood there not only utterly unamused but questioning things she’d been sure about since meeting caleb. “do something, jordyn...” nicole pleaded to the femme holding her in place. sighing she looked from nicole to zeke and caleb, “what the fuck do you want me to do, nik? if dumb and dumber wanna pummel each other into a fuckin’ pulp let ‘em do it. this whole thing is a stupid my dick is bigger than yours contest anyways. they’re both being little bitches,” she snapped, “just go… okay? i’ll let you know when i get zeke back to his room. i promise it’ll be okay.” moving back and gesturing nicole to the doors back inside, shaking her head.

ZEKE.

zeke didn't have anymore time or space to use words, all his energy buzzed through the festering annoyance with caleb. disdain for the male precedent didn't weigh in on the blond's current issue, not liking caleb hadn't ever been a problem for him and he wasn't going to make it one tonight. winning no awards for his brains didn't mean zeke was going to be a complete fool, standing back and waiting for caleb to turn around and deck him in the face wasn't on his agenda. the first hit was a freebie dodge, the blond's fists instinctively swinging towards the other male a millisecond later.

CALEB.

caleb chose to ignore his fiancé and just keep his head in the game. they’d have their fight later, he was sure of it. and knowing jordyn, that fight would probably be worse than this one. caleb pushed that to the back of his mind and focused on zeke. he took note of his body language and anticipated his first move. he wanted this to be a fair fight, so he was gonna let zeke get a few good hits in. he had taken worse hits on the football field. caleb laughed and was swinging again when he was sure zeke wouldn’t anticipate his move.

ZEKE.

an actor fighting a football player — the results were inevitable, isaac knew that. it was a first he could add to his list, though, because despite his long list of fight history and mouthiness getting him into "trouble", none of them had been footballers. or they just weren't any good at their job if they were. he felt the swing lingering, radiating somewhere near his jaw but he could endure those hits. a right hook aimed at the other, ignoring both surroundings and whatever noise or vocalizations stemme from the other in response.

CALEB.

caleb shook off any hit that zeke managed to get in. he knew he’d be sore for a day or two, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. the actor was holding his own a lot better than he had expected. at least it was a somewhat fair fight. caleb wasn’t going as hard as he could have and he was sure jordyn at least had to have known he was holding back. caleb suddenly swept his leg behind zeke’s and kicked the back of his knees to get him off his feet.

ZEKE.

he'd all but forgotten the small audience they did have. purposefully not throwing any kicks out, zeke had definitely not been expecting the other male to throw any either and it would've have made him laugh. if being knocked into the snow hadn't pissed zeke off more than the rest of the fight, the cold serving only to push him to sweep his leg through caleb's so he could experience the same meeting with the snow covered ground.

CALEB.

caleb couldn’t stop himself from laughing as zeke fell to the ground. it was always funny watching someone else fall. even if zeke hadn’t kicked him down as well, it wouldn’t have been long before he got down anyway. he scrambled to get the upper hand and close enough to throw another punch toward zekes face. he wasn’t sure how much longer they would go at it but he could go until someone physically pulled them apart. caleb wasn’t a quitter, that was for sure.

ZEKE.

gritting his teeth, zeke ignored the icky substance he hated with a searing passion as his annoyance rose with caleb's laughter. this was a fight, how the fuck was knocking someone down that amusing when they were both supposed to be pissed off? zeke shook off the thought, taking the hit to his face and returning an elbow to the other male's ribs. swiftly throwing his fist in the direction of caleb's jaw, not thinking much about when they would have to stop. if zeke had any say, his stubbornness and overally endurance, the blond wouldn't quit until they were pulled apart by someone else.

CALEB.

tw: blood

caleb grunted when zeke elbowed him in the rib and not too long after hit him in the jaw. he could taste blood and he knew zeke had split his lip open. all sense of amusement faded and caleb was pissed off again. he angrily spat the blood out on to the snow before he moved to get on top of zeke and landed a hit right on his cheekbone. he hoped to at least have given zeke a black eye or a cut on his cheek. there was no way he was gonna be the only one leaving this fight with visible injuries.

ZEKE.

zeke knew he was going to leave this with more damage overall than caleb, he could feel the impacted areas and knew he'd look rough for at least a week. any mark on the other was worth it. he almost took a moment to laugh at the result of his last hit, but he didn't find any of the situation funny. reminded of the icy snow, he felt the hit to his cheek. his stubbornness would only irk him in the morning when he saw the damage to his face, right now none of the cuts, scrapes or radiating pain soon to be bruised areas registered as important. shoving caleb off him and moving to take the top spot, he tossed another hit to the other.

NICOLE/JORDYN.

there was no way in hell jordyn had set out with any intention of getting in between the two now snow covered and visibly injured men on the ground. if they wanted to be stupid, she figured it was better to let them. she didn't have the slightest clue how testosterone worked but it was practically spewing from both men and she assumed they'd catch on sooner or later. but that was her holding her hopes too high. "oh jesus christ..." she grumbled angrily to herself unfolding her arms after the final blows were tossed by each of them. if she stood back any longer someone was probably bound to get really hurt so she got up, looking over her shoulder only to find nicole standing there, eyes widened, mouth covered with an arm wrapped around herself. "fuck me. if either one of you hit me, i'll slap the stupid straight out of both of you." the brunette huffed, bracing herself for any accidental blows, "ENOUGH." she yelled, pulling zeke from his position on top of caleb. under any other circumstances, she probably would've made a joke, but none of this was funny. in fact, it was so beyond unamusing that she knew she'd be unable to look at either for days afterwards. "you have fun? was it worth it? because you put on quite the show... and both you fuckheads managed to turn a night about doing something good into a pissing contest and a show boat for you two and put on show for everyone else." she spat, her breath puffing clouds as a shiver shot down her spine. "get up, caleb." jordyn stood back, eyeing her fiancé on the ground face twisting up in utter disapproval and disgust. "you both fight like a bunch of 3 year olds, by the way. go clean yourselves up before anyone starts taking pictures and makes this worse."

CALEB.

caleb was lost in the fight. the only thing he could hear were the sounds of their fists making contact with each other’s faces and the grunts that followed. he wasn’t sure how long they rolled around in the snow (which at this point didn’t even feel cold anymore). caleb could feel the adrenaline coursing through his body as things got a little more intense. he could have gone for a while longer if he hadnt been taken out of his trance by jordyn suddenly shouting at the two of them. he slumped against the ground once zeke had been pulled off of him and laid there for a second, trying to catch his breath. he could barely understand the lecture jordyn was giving, but he was sure it was something about the two of them being stupid and annoying. after a second, he got up and brushed the snow off of his pants. he spat once more in anger before he stomped off without an word to anyone.

ZEKE.

TW: abusive mentioned

the minute jordyn's voice registered, her words immediately made zeke halt his actions as he was pulled off her fiance, his jaw clenched and his eyes rolling. zeke was a lot of stupid, but he'd never laid his hands on a woman in any physically abusive manner. he wasn't about to make the mistake accidentally or not, but that didn't mean he was over the situation at hand. it didn't matter, at the moment, what happened next between him and his best friend. was she likely pissed at him? yes, but zeke couldn't bring himself to register why he should be concerned with it. his amber hues rolled once more as he watched caleb stalk off without a word, but as they flicked over to see nicole's features... his heart stopped momentarily. he was more than ready to get away from the situation all of a sudden. fighting with caleb was easily swiped from his thoughts, because everything in him focused on the expression. any residual anger, adrenaline, pride over leaving some form of mark on a good sized footballer... slid from him and he felt defeated. deflated, physically his frame exhaled all the remaining air from his lungs and he shook his head, pulling off the suit jacket he adorned and heading off in the direction of where he was staying, wordlessly as a half hearted roll of his eyes followed this time.

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