#But she had assembly after class and I couldn’t go because I’d be scouted so we agreed to meet in a specific room after that

[nightwingshero]

WIP Saturday

I was tagged by @chyrstis and @scungilliwoman thank you, lovelies!!! Honestly, I’m so damn behind on my tag games...I’m so sorry, I’m getting there. 

Tagging: @strafethesesinners @water-writings @simonxriley @playstationmademe @witchofinterest @xbaebsae @dieguzguz @tommymillers @smithandrogers @shellibisshe @fadedjacket and whoever else would like to share! Sorry, my brain is fried and I can’t think of any other tags, but if you do it, please tag me! I would love to see your amazing work!!!

I’ve been doing a lot of Dragon Age, MCU, Arrowverse, and some other stuff (becuase I’m all over the place), so here yah go!

Dragon Age: Athera and Evune in the Exalted Plains before helping Solas’ spirit friend, after Haven fell. 

“And you’re okay with all of this?” Evune asked as she stepped on a boulder, looking down below us as a few halla settled down for the night. “You seem a bit…off.”

Glancing over at her, the arms around my chest tighten as they remained crossed. “It just���feels a bit odd. Everything seems so...quiet and open here.” Evune threw back her head, laughing a bit.

“Welcome to the Plains, darling.” She smirked a bit as the shadows of the fire from the camp behind us flickered across her face. It made her dark eyes look like the night sky, almost terrifying yet beautiful. It’s almost odd to me how the eyes show the kind of person you were on the inside, because I knew it was a pure representation of who she was. Even if she didn’t want to admit it. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I…I don’t know what you want me to say.” I murmured, glancing behind me at the others. Blackwall carving something with his knife as Varric lounged next to the fire, watching it as he lowly spoke of stories of his travels. Solas, only a little further from the fire than Blackwall, sat quietly, stoically as he listened, whether to Varric or us, I wasn’t sure. “Being the First is…” I glanced back down below us, the moon full and lighting the plains in front of us as the creek ran not far from our camp. “I didn’t think I’d have to do it; I didn’t think for a moment that Isha would…”

“Die?” Evune offered as she watched me carefully, her sharp eyes taking in everything and reminding me of the hunter she became once she joined our clan. Andruil’s vallaslin was more than fitting for her, even as a rogue. It was moments like this that made me more grateful to have my cousin by my side.

“I went to the Conclave because I needed time to think, I…I didn’t want the responsibility that came with being a First. I don’t know if I want to be Keeper when Deshanna steps down.”

If I was expecting a shocked reaction from her, I would have been disappointed. It was as if I had just told her the sky was blue, the only movement from her was the slight arch in her brow as I glanced over her. “I hope you’re not expecting me to overly surprised by this, Athera. You jumped at the opportunity when everyone was ready to let me scout it out.”

“And ended up with more responsibility than before.” I laughed humorlessly. “Just think Evune, if Isha hadn’t died, if I hadn’t jumped at the opportunity to run from the weight of being the First, you could be Inquisitor right now.”

“In what world would that be reassuring, Little Fawn? Me and Fen’an leading this little pack of warriors? You and I both know that the right person was there for that. Don’t haunt yourself with those kinds of thoughts, you’re the leader because you’re meant to be.”  

MCU: Steve coming back in Infinity War

“Ross.” Rhodes sighed. “We gotta take this. Rayna, I’m sorry—”

“Do it.” She replied as she stood straight, her head high. “Let us see what he has to say to this now that Tony is missing.”

The malice in her voice made Rhodes and I exchange a look before he turned to the screen and accepted the call. The blue hologram of Secretary of State and the conference room he was in filled the space as Bruce went to the next room, an old flip phone turning in his hands. Rhodey crossed his arms as he took him in, Rayna leaning against the bench—her magic making a coffee mug disappear and reappear. “Mr. Secretary, how can we help you?”

“Well, Colonel, as you can tell, we have a problem.” He replied, barely looking up at us him and his men shuffled through his papers. “Mr. Stark is gone, we need to assemble who we have left.”

“To fight a spaceship that’s no longer hovering over New York City?” Rayna asked and I threw her a look as he sighed.

“To fight off whatever threat we have.” Ross snapped. “What information do we have?”

“His name is Thanos.” Rhodes replied. “He’s…looking for some—he’s looking to destroy and take out half the universe.” Ross took a moment to glance at us, and I swallowed as his eyes flitted to me momentarily.

“And how do we know this?”

We both hesitated before I decided to come clean. “Dr. Banner has…returned. He was on the ship when Thanos attacked Thor…he’s gone.” Another sigh came from him as he handed something to one of his men, a few exchanging glances as Ross spoke.

“So Dr. Banner has conveniently returned with news and you’re telling me we lost the Asgardian?”

“That Asgardian risked his life to try and save us.” Rayna snapped as she shoved off the workbench, making some tools fall and clatter on the floor. “We would do well to take heed of the warning.”

They glared at each other as the tension became worse and I moved, grabbing her arm. “Rayna…”

“Stark is missing, Secretary. I suggest you begin being more cordial to the allies you do have left.” She replied, venom dripping from her words as she walked away, joining Banner in the next room. I threw Rhodes a look before following suit, staying close to them as they stood off to the side, Banner now rubbing his face a bit as he paced slowly.

Seemingly unaffected, Ross continued. “Still no word from Vision?”

Peaky Blinders: Dahlia finding out Alfie is alive

“There are binoculars on the table there, Mr. Shelby. He insists you admire the view. He will be with you shortly.”

I say nothing, don’t dare turn away from the sea as the breeze hits my face. He joins me with binoculars in his hand as the sound of her gathering a tray can be heard. If I had to guess, I would say perhaps tea. How wonderful would it be, to just sit here on a beautiful day and a cup of tea, reading and watching. I allow myself to wonder what it would be like to leave everything behind for this. I hadn’t had peace in so long, I feared I would never know it again.

“It’s been so long since I’ve travelled.” I say, breaking the silence as Tommy holds the binoculars up to his eyes. “So bloody long. The horrid woman would constantly make us travel; tutors changed frequently. Honestly, Tommy, it’s a wonder I had learned anything at all.” I scoffed.

“Mmm. Woes of the upper class.” He mutters back.

“Yes, I s’pose that’s one way to say it.” I sigh before looking over at him. “But you always say we’re better than them, Tommy. You said it about the Russians, even with Luca…you said it, and you say it now with the politicians. Thomas…our values as a family…we’re above this. We don’t believe in this. Please. I need to know if this man can help us.”

Tommy drops his hand, turning and looking at me when the sound of footsteps are heard. “Business first, Dahlia. Remember, business first.”

I go to retort, to ask him again, but I don’t get the chance.

“You out there, Tommy!” A male voice called, and I felt it then, a chill run through me that had little to do with the breeze. My heart squeezed as I stared at Tommy.

“Yeah. I’m here.”

“Tommy—” I breathed out.

“I was just having some oil rubbed into the bits that really hurt, mate. What do you think of that view, eh?”

I knew that voice. I knew that fucking voice. Tears welled and I fought like I never had before, refusing to cry. Tommy won’t look at me as he steps forward, and I am desperate enough to even contemplate clutching onto his sleeve, but don’t act on it.

“It’s Margate. What can you do?” Tommy replied as the placed the binoculars on the lounge. I watch as the man cuts the music I had barely noticed and turns.

Far Cry 5: Wren’s Cleansing and spitting water in John’s face

“This one?” a male voice echoed as I fought against heavy eyelids to see a blurred night sky. I saw a man in the corner of my eye with a wool sweater and messy hair, pointing to something on the ground.

“No. This one.” Another male voiced, his voice deep and well-spoken. Had it been any other situation, I would dare say it was soothing.

The scruffy man found his way to me, leaning over as he studied me with confusion. “Doesn’t seem very worthy.”

“It is not for us to judge.” The other man came into view, and he was much more put together than his companion. His dark hair was neat, and beard trimmed. He donned a trench coat, giving him an air of importance. “Deliver her unto the waters. The Cleansing begins tonight.” The grungy man reached for me just as I faded back to blackness.

“The water must wash away our past.” A voice echoed and I stirred. He was muffled and I couldn’t place the odd sensation as I began to become aware. It was as if my head was buried beneath sand. My body began to protest, my chest burning, and it was only then that I had realized I wasn’t breathing at all. I was fully awake now and staring at the face of one of the men I had seen earlier, holding me down beneath the water. “We must expose our sins. We must atone…” The man pulled me forward through the surface of the water. I took a quick breath, my gasp only audible between me and my new friend. I finally was able to take everything in. It was night, obviously, and we were on the bank of the river. My head was still screwy from the bliss in my system, but I could make out the lace in the trees and the van parked underneath. But it was the man standing before us that had my attention. John Seed. I recognized him from the intel Dutch had on him at the bunker and the broadcast. Not to mention the pictures and billboards he had all over the place. His trench coat was gone, showing the blue button up shirt and black waistcoat he wore underneath. The others were being walked to him as he read from a white book, his thumb rubbing a symbol on their foreheads. “For only then may we stand in the light of God and walk through his Gate unto Eden.” He said as he marked the last person, before he turned to me and closed his book as I was escorted to him.

“Not this one.” He said as he studied me for only a second, but it felt like forever. His eyes drew me in and I almost squirmed under his scrutinizing gaze. It pinned me to my spot in the river as he handed his book off to my Baptist Buddy. “This one’s not clean.” His was low, mesmerizing. It was honey, just enough of a hint of danger to pull you in, making what he did catch me off guard completely. His hands were on the base of my neck, his thumbs only applying a slight pressure to my throat, almost teasingly. He put more pressure into his palms against my collarbone, forcing me underwater once more. My gasp of shock forcing water in my mouth this time. I thrashed against his hands, but it was no use. He was immovable, a marble statue against my paper-thin attempts against him. My hands tried to pull at the rolled-up sleeves in panic, and he finally pulled me up.

“Ahhhhh.”  He sighed at first, but then my rage overcame me. Out of spite, and for the actual need to dispose of it, I spit the water that had flooded into my mouth in his face. There was a moment of dead silence as his men stood in shock and fear, waiting to see what their Baptist would do. John closed his eyes for a second as I could see the rage cross his features. But as soon as it came, it was gone. His eyes opened again with a mix of malice and taunting, and tsked at me with smirk as he shook his head. “Shhhh.” I clawed at his arms as he went to push me down again, until a voice made him stop dead in his tracks.

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Hit Or Miss || Morgan & Bex

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @inbextween & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Morgan tries to get to know Bex over a game of Battleship. Explosions may or may not ensue.

CONTAINS: brief references to transphobia

There were a few things that death couldn’t take away from Morgan: love, the view of a January day, and board games. She had never been much of a fan as a kid, they were bulky, hard to pack in a hurry, and as soon as you lost a couple pieces, all that mess became worthless. But at Karen’s house a lifetime ago, the novelty special editions of Monopoly and Life and the varnished wood sets of checkers and parcheesi had seemed like treasures from another world; one where the ground was steady beneath your feet and it never occurred to you that the nice things you loved would fall apart. Today, she ran her fingers over a battered edition of Battleship: Classic (was there a Battleship: passé somewhere?) and brought it down to the table by the window she was bogarting at Board to Death, grinning affectionately at the scuffed pegs and stained ships hiding under the lid. It was the only coffee shop in town that anything to offer besides food she couldn’t taste. Her triple espresso had a soothing bitter taste, but all the icing in the world on the danishes or dipped vegan scones couldn’t bring back her old sense of taste.

She sipped the just-below-boiling mixture and watched the living world shuffle by in their puffy coats and bright scarves. When she saw a nervous looking girl approach the window she smiled, nodding in case it was her. When she entered the cafe, Morgan held out her hand. “Hey, you’re Bex, right?”

The strangest part about being back in White Crest was that it felt so nice. There was something about this place that felt enough like home that Bex almost didn’t altogether mind her overbearing parents controlling her every move. Almost. They’d delighted in the fact that she was being scouted by a professor already, and she’d opted to not mention the part where said professor was gay and also recommended by someone who thought they were a witch. For some reason, Bex trusted Nell’s judgement, and Professor Beck seemed really nice. And, well, Bex couldn’t help but leap at the idea of meeting a real life queer person. Especially a woman. Who was out! And open! Even if she couldn’t really ask her about it today. The concept was novel. And so Bex really wanted this meeting to be good.

Therefore, she kept an excited demeanor about herself as she made her way to Board to Death, trying to push the anxiety away. Put on a smile when she opened the door, and glanced around for Professor Beck, seeing her through the window. She scooted herself over, taking her hand. “Hey! Hi, yes! That’s me! I’m Bex! That makes you Professor Beck, then! Unless you’re not, which would make this very awkward,” she chuckled, then stopped, clearing her throat. “S-sorry. Um, hi, thanks for meeting with me!” Glanced down to look at her refreshments on the table, then back up. “I never really knew Board to Death had food! I’ve only been here a few times. Do you come here a lot?”

“I am Professor Beck, yes, but you can just call me Morgan. Pretty much everyone does.” Morgan took another sip of her espresso and gestured for the girl to sit. It wasn’t every day she could tell someone she’d spoken with online just from their demeanor, but Bex was nearly vibrating out of her skin with anxiety. It was an excited kind of anxious, like her face might hurt from smiling so much, but it still gave Morgan some pause. This was a girl who had wrecked a whole computer lab with just the force of her emotions. Even if she couldn’t accept magic yet, some kind emotional release would probably be good for her. “I don’t come here much, no. Coffee tastes pretty much the same to me anywhere, and at least here it comes with something fun to do. You’ve played Battleship before, right? It’s only one of a couple of two player games I’m familiar with that doesn’t make you think too much.” Grinning at her, Morgan lifted the top from the game and started assembling her board.

“Oh, um--” Bex started, feeling that anxiousness already bubbling in her throat again, “-- I’ll try, but no promises. My parents sort of drilled it into me that it’s ‘Mister’ and ‘Misses’, or ‘Doctor’ and ‘Professor’ only!” Her face scrunched, as if she were trying to be angry and she lifted a finger to waggle. A poor imitation of her father. “You are a child, Odelia, and you will address your elders properly!” Not realizing she’d let slip her real name, she looked back across the table at Professor Be-- er, Morgan. “Oh, yeah, I’m much more of a tea person, myself. Coffee makes me jittery and anxious and I think I’m plenty of that all on my own, you know?” She watched as Morgan began assembling the game, not saying too much. Her father had made her play old strategy games like Risk and Chess for hours on end as a child, but Battleship had never seemed to reach their table. “Um, once, at school. You just kinda guess coordinates, right?”

Morgan couldn’t hide the arch in her brow as Bex gave a different name as she impersonated her parents. Did they not address her the way she asked to be? Did she keep the name she gave out to acquaintances as a secret? Still, she snorted kindly and finished setting up her board. “It’s good that you know yourself at least. I’m not sure if the world is ready for a caffeinated Bex just yet.” She finished setting up her board and started on her ships, keeping them mostly spread out from each other. “And yeah, it’s just a fun guessing game! If you know your opponent well, you can try and guess their methodology, but it’s, you know--” She held up the box lid, “Ages 6 and up.” With everything set aside on her end, she could lean back and relax. “So, I do hope you’ll take one of my seminars. My syllabus is way more fun than the other professors’, not to knock my colleagues, because they’re amazing, but I hand out movies and, occasionally, video games too. We look at what speculative and fantastical stories tell us about humanity, how we see ourselves and each other and why changes in those perceptions matter. And, you know, with all the writing homework, you’ll probably get a leg up on your fellow pre-law students. Anyone can have an idea or a feeling, but it takes work to give voice to it. But, that’s my one and only pitch. I’d much rather get to know you. Sometimes strangers can be easier to open up to than others.”

“Oh, it’s definitely not,” Bex agreed with a chuckle. She watched Morgan set up her side-- without peeking, of course!-- before working to set her own side up. She didn’t entirely know the best strategy for Battleship, but she decided she wanted to go for an out there one, sticking all of her ships right in a square in the middle of the map. “Well, I’m definitely six and up, so, I think we’re all good. Who goes first?” She looked across the table to Morgan as she continued to fuss with her pieces, wondering which formation was better, listening to her description of her course. “It sounds like a great class,” she said when the older woman was done speaking, but there was something vibrating inside of her. Something about the description, something about how free and open the course sounded, made her realize something else was going on here. Bex might have been closed off and insecure, but she was observant as well. It was one of the qualities that made her an actual decent law student. Her gaze dropped to her board and she pulled her hands away. “I’m ready to start, then,” she said, lifting her eyes just enough to gaze over the top of the board, the double meaning of her sentence not lost on either of them.

Morgan watched Bex thoughtfully, from the tightness in her shoulders to the shrill chirp of her voice. She was trying, eagerly, desperately, but for what? Morgan wanted to tell her to relax, there were no quizzes or grades handed out at the end of this meet-up. But having been that anxious herself more than once, she knew drawing attention directly didn’t always have the desired effect. “A-10?” She called. “Why don’t you tell me about why you like it here? I thought I saw you mention something about ‘coming back’ on main and I gotta say, I haven’t heard of too many people returning after they’d left. Well, not often by choice anyway.”

“Miss,” Bex said quietly, sticking a peg into A-10. “E-6?” she tried, waiting for the response. She chewed on her lip at the question, thinking a moment. It wasn’t that she really liked it here, but White Crest was home and she knew she had a place here. And even if she hadn’t gone to school here, or grown up with the other kids, or become a regular at all the diners-- she still felt like she fit in here. More so than at Penn State, where the kids looked at her with those eyes, and whispered behind their hands, and posted her private life online. “It just...feels like home, I guess. I went to private school as a kid, so it’s not like I really have any sort of connection to the town, but I just feel right here,” she explained softly, neither smiling nor frowning. She stuck a peg into the missed slot. “I came back because I had to.” Where she really wanted to be was far away from the East coast, maybe in Oregon or Washington or California. Somewhere she could start over brand new and be whoever she wanted to be. She cleared her throat. “How um-- how long have you been in White Crest?”

“Miss,” Morgan called. She let a round pass unremarked, taking in as much as she could. She was just bundled up so tight, it was no wonder she’d exploded in front of Nell. That much repression might do the same even to someone without magic. “Private school, huh? Like boarding school? I didn’t realize those were still a thing in this country.” She made another call, D-6, and took another sip of espresso. “I’ve been here for a year now. I’m starting to see how somebody could feel like they belonged here, even with all the terribleness. It’s not an easy fit, but I don’t think I could leave on a dime, not by myself anyway. But what--is it okay if I ask what made you have to come back? Or if not, maybe tell me about someplace else you dream of being. Those are good ideas to hold onto. The future, I mean.”

“Yep,” Bex said dismissively, “I went to a private boarding school. And they definitely still exist here.” And they suck, she wanted to add, but held her tongue. Uniforms and strict schedules and forced rules. Secrets and hush money and skirting around the fact that Bex was not born a girl. “My parents paid good money for it, it was a Jewish Orthodox school, a really good one, too,” she went on, swallowing down the hard feelings. They didn’t matter anymore. “The town certainly has a charm to it, doesn’t it?” She stuck a peg right between two of her ships as a miss. “Miss. Um...H-7?” She looked up again, contemplating which question she wanted to answer. They both would give away too much, and she was bad at lying. “There was an incident at my old school,” she finally said, the waver in her voice coming through, “my parents thought it best I come back home.”

“It’s okay, Bex,” Morgan said softly. “I want to know you, but you don’t have to talk about anything you don’t really want to. But I am sorry about whatever happened to you over there. It doesn’t seem like something easy.” She tilted her head, trying to meet the girl’s eyes. There was something there, something awful. Bullies, maybe? Did kids chase Bex and lock her in storage cabinets and call her names like they had Morgan? Or was there some kind of accident with her magic? “What do you want, Bex? However important your parents are to your life, however close you might be, your life is still yours. Your future should look like what you hope for. Why don’t you tell me more about that, huh? Or how the law firm fits into that idea.” Another sip of espresso. “Miss, by the way.” She scanned her grid and made a guess toward the middle. “F-6?”

Bexley swallowed hard, trying to make the worble that was building in her throat go away. “It’s okay, it’s kind of public information, anyway,” she stated matter of factly, moving away from the topic enough to not feel too overwhelmed, and thankful for Morgan’s offer. But the next question felt even harder, and Bex could feel the anxiety building in her stomach again. Her hand shook as she went to plug in the peg next to her ship, one hole away and she had to grip it with her other to make it stop. “I want to make my parents proud,” she stated, as if reading from a script, “I’m the sole heir to our business and fortune. That’s all there is to it. M-my future. That’s all I want. To be the perfect daughter for them.” And stop messing up. Since she couldn’t be their son. Since she couldn’t be the best. “Miss,” she said and her voice cracked. “F-5?”

“Miss,” Morgan replied. “And you don’t have to be perfect. No one is perfect. Perfect in terms of being flawless and incapable of improvement isn’t even a real thing. And your parents--” Morgan frowned. She had a lot of fairy tales about what parents should be like, but the more people she met, the more she wondered where she had cooked that one up. “The best way to love someone is to enable them to be the most themselves. The best, freest version of themself. And asking yourself those questions is the best way to find yourself loved better. I don’t know what your situation is, Bex, but you shouldn’t live to be an object in someone else’s story. You’re more than that. What is it that really excites you? What do you hope for?” Morgan waited, peering at this small glimpse of Bex’s pain with growing concern. Then, suddenly remembering that she had yet to call a move, she distractedly mumbled something a few spaces out from her last one. “E-5?”

Bex didn’t like this anymore. Morgan was saying things she already knew, but she also already knew that they were things she couldn’t have, so what was the point in thinking about them? In talking about them? She didn’t even bother putting a peg in this time. This was supposed to be a fun, easy meeting, not a deep dive into her extremely painful situation. “Please stop,” was all she said, hands folded tightly into her lap, “just...please?” Fingers began to pick at nail beds, still red and raw from every other time she’d done it. “All I hope for right now is to make it through each day without messing up or embarrassing someone,” she admitted quietly, but her voice was stern, an anger stewing inside of her that she rarely let to the surface, “And I just hope that I can make it through the week without some shit happening. And I hope that one day I’ll be able to look back on all this and put it behind me, but that’s not feasible right now so I really need to just not think about it and keep trying my best for my parents because they’re all I have.” And she owed them everything. Shakily, she lifted the peg and placed it on one of her ships. “Hit.” A loud whistle behind the cafe counter signaled steaming water and Bex startled. She let out a long sigh. “A-2.”

“I’m sorry,” Morgan said quickly. “I don’t mean to-- I am being sincere in what I am saying and whatever me or my life looks like to you or anyone else peeking on main apparently, it’s-- I do know what it’s like to feel like your life isn’t yours and what you want doesn’t matter and keeping your head down and being small and left alone is the best you’re gonna get. I am deeply, intimately familiar with that feeling. I can only imagine what kind of suffering you’ve been through, but you were meant for more than that, and I’m sorry. I’ll stop, okay? Do you--” Morgan stopped as another kettle trilled, glowing with sudden heat. She made a note of the hit, but didn’t put the red peg on the board. Flustered and desperate to recover the afternoon, she pawed her pockets for her phone. “I have cats. Three of them. Do you want to see pictures of the cats? Or ask me something? This isn’t an interview. If there’s something you want to know you can--” The phone clattered onto the table. Deirdre and Anya’s faces bloomed on the lock screen. “You can do whatever you want, Bex, you don’t even have to stay.”

Everything Morgan was saying just made Bex tense up more and more. Kettle’s started shouting, left and right, even the baristas were beginning to panic, running around and removing them, but finding them still screaming, louder and louder, despite the lack of heat. A crack formed in the window next to Bex as she screwed her eyes shut and clenched her entire body. She didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for her or tell her how much they understood or tell her how sad it was-- she wanted to pretend like how she was living was okay and fine and that one day she’d make it through and suddenly everything would feel okay. And just be okay. She unclenched and the whistles seemed to die down. Looked at the phone that had fallen to the table and saw the happy woman on it, smiling and beautiful. And the cat, so peaceful looking. Tears welled in her eyes. “I have to go,” she said suddenly, standing up. The chair scooted back and toppled over. People turned around to look at them. Her heart seemed to leap into her throat and the mug on the table shattered. “I’m sorry! I have to--” took a step back and all the teapots wailed again. Bex looked around frantically. “It-- It was nice to meet you, Professor Beck, but I--” she didn’t get to finish her sentence as one of the pistons on the espresso machine shot off and shattered a nearby tower of cups. Bex turned and ran before anyone had a chance to ask her anything.

“Bex, wait! You need to--!” Whatever half-assed plea Morgan was working on fizzled out under the crash of falling furniture and screaming machinery. Someone’s baby started wailing, the window buckled like it had been gut-punched, and the steam whirred louder. Morgan grabbed her coat and bag and phone. She wasn’t sure what was going to happen to downtown with Bex like this, if she could talk her down or if following would only make things worse. Shit, probably worse, right? But by the time she stumbled out the door, the girl was long gone and all Morgan had left were more questions. At least she would be able to tell Nell one thing for certain: Bexley was not okay, and under her nerves lay a sadness too deep for her to contain, especially in White Crest.

[xathia-89]

Long Lost Sibling - Nobunaga

I was in more than a little bit of a stunned state. I was clutching my bag to my chest, sat in ruined and smoky clothes while riding on a horse that belonged to a warlord who trusted me less than he could throw me. His hazel eyes were alight with passion when he had run to the scene of the fire. I learnt shortly after that, I had saved Nobunaga Oda from the flames that had been destined to kill him from the history that I had discovered. I was lucky that I hadn’t lost my bag, no one could understand why I refused to let go of it as it kept moving slightly, still as scared as I was most likely as I tried to keep my breathing level. I was used to a high level of stress and expectation on my head, but I felt like I was floundering out of my depth in this scenario. I had been meeting up with one of my college friends, who had followed his passion and turned to an astrophysicist. Then we’d been caught out by a storm, and somehow ended up five hundred years in the past.

I was grateful to arrive at the castle. I was given my own quarters, a bath and some clean clothes. The maids helped me with the kimono as I had hidden my opened bag in my wardrobe, knowing it would be safe there for this instance. Then the same man who had brought me here entered the room and instantly began to correct my crooked obi sash before he let me leave.

I was in 1582, I had saved Nobunaga Oda from the flames that had been his demise in my timeline, and I was surrounded by Hideyoshi Toyotomi, Masamune Date, Ieyasu Tokugawa, Mitsunari Ishida and Mitsuhide Akechi. Six warlords whose names I had been very well acquainted with during my studies. They had all been footnotes and names, now I was faced with the real things. And they were all armed. I hadn’t been unarmed until I had gotten changed. My duelling swords were in my bag, along with my sole companion in my travelling lifestyle.

Nobunaga kept staring at me, it was slightly unnerving, but I couldn’t let the ‘enemy’ know that. It was like a match warm up. If the opposition could sense your nerves, then it was a weak spot to exploit. I stood straight, holding myself as though there was a string attached to the ceiling. I had spent years training in more ways than one, and this was definitely the time I would need my own defence.

“I refuse to spend my days doing ‘girly’ things,” I finally snapped, refusing to let them lord it all over me just because I happened to pick up Oda’s eye while saving his life.

“Then I appoint you as my Chatelaine,” the Devil King stated, glaring at me as though wondering what I was still doing being present in the meeting.

I let myself out and used the maids to find my way back to my room quickly.

I heard the scratching at my wardrobe and quickly opened it as my cat glared at me. He always insisted on sitting in my bag to the point that I had my handbags made, especially to accommodate his quirks. Luckily, he hadn’t made any kind of mess in my bag or wardrobe, and I also had a veranda to let him get out for a stretch with access to the gardens. Though surprisingly, he hated grass and would do anything to avoid walking on it as he turned his nose up at me. The maids had left out some water for washing in, though Nobu instantly decided it had been left for him and eagerly lapped at it. I needed to get something from the kitchens for him as I pondered about the meat availability, and making a friend or two in the kitchen to ensure a good supply. I was scratching Nobu behind the ears as the door opened, and one of the older maids looked surprised at the scene.

“Don’t tell anyone I have a cat please,” I smiled, “I just need to make sure there’s always a bowl of water, and I need help getting him food please?” I asked with a head tilt.

“Of course, Lady Natsuki,” she bowed and immediately rushed off.

It sounded strange being referred to as a princess, I certainly had never acted in such a royal manner, though it was often referred to how I held myself as I was growing up. I existed in my own class, every movement was graceful and precise as I moved, and it was always the outwards appearance that came off as someone of importance. I could barely remember anything from before the age of ten, it was as though I just appeared in Kyoto, and I lived with my parents, who I barely saw. It was a constant flow of nannies and tutors, and I naturally attended a private school. My talent in ballet and fencing was encouraged and quickly honed. Before coming through the wormhole, I didn’t actually have a home. I spent my time travelling and attending competitions all over the world. I had been referred to as the master dueller, but it wasn’t something I believed I could call myself yet.

The maid came back with a tray of food for me, and it included an overabundance of meat. Nobu was at my knees in an instant, meowing incessantly at me until he had his portion of food in front of him. His purring was endearing as the maid introduced herself as Kinu, and she smiled at the sight of a now contented cat. He had already settled himself down on the futon covers, which was going to make it interesting for me getting into bed if it hadn’t already been a double one anyway.

“I’ll do what I can to help if you don’t want anyone else to know,” she offered.

“He gets overwhelmed by people easily, that’s all,” I explained. “So if people don’t know about him, then it’s going to be less stress for him. Thank you,” I softly finished. My exhaustion was hitting me like a ton of bricks now I’d finally stopped.

“I’ll come by in the morning, sleep well Lady Natsuki,” Kinu smiled.

“Please, drop the title, it’s just Natsuki,” I corrected. “See you in the morning, Kinu.”

Routine was essential around the castle. After three days of being avoided by Hideyoshi, I stalked him out and demanded that he tell me my duties the following day. It was just outside of Nobunaga’s tenshu where I had caught him, and Oda opened the door to commend my determination before telling his vassal that he was spending the day showing me how the castle worked tomorrow.

Toyotomi was far from impressed, but then I couldn’t do my job if I didn’t know what it was. I was introduced to everyone as the Chatelaine, and I made my connections in the kitchens and amongst the maids outside of Kinu. I helped them to get a few things passed the warlords, and I had the trust of the staff long before Hideyoshi was prepared to do anything of the sort.

I figured there was a banquet that night, judging from all the flying about the staff were doing. Kinu confirmed to me that I was right as I helped her to pick up a box.

“Natsuki!” I heard as we placed the final box on the counter level. “How many times do I need to tell you about not pushing yourself?” Hideyoshi was in mother hen mode it appeared as Kinu couldn’t hide her smile.

“We worked together, there wasn’t any strain in it for either of us,” I pointed out. “Also were you meant to inform me of the event tonight?”

Hideyoshi blushed as he was caught out.

“I won’t tell anyone,” I chuckled, “I’m going to get ready.”

There had been numerous reports from all the staff of strange noises coming from the Chatelaine’s room. Mitsuhide was naturally sent to investigate, as he made sure that no one could see where he was going. Kinu had been strangely close to the new arrival, and the two would often be seen gossiping while cleaning and working through the castle. There were rumours the two would eat together on occasions, but it hadn’t been confirmed by anyone yet. It was silent as everyone had been assembled at the banquet, and the kitsune slide the door open. It was organised to perfection, something that did remind him of the Princess as the sight of two long, thin blades perked his interest, but they would not be the source of the unknown sound. He opened the wardrobe carefully and was attacked by a black fur ball with claws, that then dashed straight out of the room. Mitsuhide paused for a minute and could feel that his face was scratched by whatever it was, logic dictated that it was a cat judging from size and speed. It wasn’t expected, but Akechi then realised he had just released the animal out into the castle and immediately then scrambled out of the woman’s room, forgetting to close the doors.

Masamune’s scouts returned during the banquet with a concerning report regarding the night at Honno-Ji, so everyone was dispersed. Nobunaga was walking with Hideyoshi to his tenshu, where the Lord had managed to persuade his vassal that this was definitely a suitable time for konpeito. The sugar candies were waiting for them in the room, and they started to digest the reports from the scouts. Then a scratch came from the ceiling, much to their surprise, before a black blob dropped through and started to lick at the candy in Oda’s hand.

A hurried knock and Toyotomi threw the door open.

“Hi,” I smiled and spotted Nobu sat very happily on Nobunaga’s shoulder while licking at the sugar candy in his hand. “I’m really sorry about this,” I said and went to pick up my stray cat.  

Then I was hissed and swatted with.

“Excuse me, mister,” I hissed back. “You know sugar isn’t good for you,” I scolded, much to Oda’s amusement as my cat refused to stop digging his claws in.

“How have you kept him secret for this long?” Hideyoshi was surprised that the fuzzball had an owner.

“He doesn’t normally like people, it’s just been him and me for a few years,” I shrugged, trying to avoid the fact that I’d fallen through a wormhole to get here. It wasn’t a lie, it was usually just me and Nobu in the RV I used as my travelling home. He didn’t like going outside beyond the cemented over car parks, even though I’d forever be begging for the little sod to go toilet outside of the RV. He’d usually make a deal of having a walk outside, and then coming in only to use the litter tray and go back outside. “It was easier to keep him in my room, and Kinu was always handy to help me,” I explained, scratching my cat behind his ears. “He’s obviously taken a liking to Nobunaga,” I shrugged.

“What’s his name?” Oda was curious as I froze up.

“Nobu,” I muttered, looking embarrassed and away from the two warlords.

“He does remind me of you,” Hideyoshi commented, getting a closer look at the cat who was now staring at him with wine coloured eyes.

“Well, at least he isn’t tearing the place apart-” I was interrupted by a slightly bloodied Mitsuhide joining the room. “Oh, that’s how he got out,” my eyes widened at the scratches across Akechi’s face. “That’s normally how he greets people,” I gestured to the white-haired male.

Hideyoshi looked like he was going to comment on the kitsune, but a look from Nobunaga silenced his vassal.

I was about to give up on having a cat. He was always on Oda’s shoulder or following the man about with devotion, regardless of where he was. I had heard that he’d even been in war councils. It didn’t help that Nobunaga ignored my instructions regarding feeding him sugar candies, I was beginning to sympathise with Hideyoshi, though I never let him know about my secret chocolate supply in my room.

It was a beautiful night, I had the doors open to admire the stars as I had the candle lit and some chocolate to finish off a long day. Then someone opened my door, and I had a black fur ball wanted something sweet in my lap in an instant.

“Oh, now you’re interested?” I chuckled, stroking Nobu affectionately as Nobunaga leant over to see what I was eating. “Close the door and take a seat, we don’t need Hideyoshi giving us a lecture,” I grinned.

We ended up talking about very little of importance, but I introduced the man to chocolate as he shared his precious sugar candies.

Then Toyotomi found us.

“Lord Nobunaga, Lady Natsuki!” Hideyoshi immediately scolded, though I had to admit that Oda was quicker than I could ever imagine. He was long gone down the corridor and left me alone to deal with a fully bristled mother hen.

I didn’t know what lead me to my actions, but when the vassal turned around to start telling me off, I kissed him passionately on the lips. He returned it with equal fire before we separated. I smiled and told him goodnight before closing the door. It took a little while before he left, walking in the direction of his manor. Nobunaga owed me as I trailed a finger over my lips that were still tingling.

“Lady Natsuki!” I looked up from my scrubbing of the floor to see Mitsunari looking concerned, a frown on the face of an angel. “Lord Nobunaga has some news for you, he’s requesting your presence in the tenshu.”

“This must be urgent,” I replied, making sure I wasn’t covered in muck before I stood up.

“Please, follow me,” he asked, turning about promptly and quickly leading.

I was definitely the most underdressed one in the room. Hideyoshi was scowling at my attire, but Oda cut him off before he could start.

“You need to pack and get ready to leave, you’re coming with us,” the black haired male stated.

“My Lord!” Mitsunari and Hideyoshi both exclaimed in surprise.

“As long as I can know where I am going,” I asked.

“I need my lucky charm with me to flush two dead men out onto the field,” he smirked. “You should be able to leave Kinu in charge of Nobu,” he added.

“I am still trying to figure out why I am sharing my cat,” I grumbled, making the two vassals smile to see us in such closeness. Masamune had made the comment that to watch me and Nobunaga converse was akin to watching siblings, which the other warlords had then agreed with and I chose to ignore.

“I like how you complain about your cat and not being dragged out to battle,” Oda smirked. I simply shrugged in response before we all cleared out to get ready for the upcoming event.

A thud behind Ieyasu made him jump. Natsuki had just been behind him while attending to a minor wound that needed bandaging before he would be sent back out. The soldier was looking shocked, and the Princess was unconscious on the floor. The warlord quickly finished his current task before rushing over to the woman. She wasn’t burning up, and she looked a little pale but nothing drastic.

“She was fine, then she was on the floor,” the soldier was gaping.

Tokugawa gathered the Chatelaine into his arms, a frown deep on his forehead. The other warlords would want to know, but there wasn’t a known cause for her collapse. It would worry them for no reason, but then again, Nobunaga was just as likely to punch him in the face for withholding the information.

“My Lord?” The man the Princess had been attending to was looking confused. His bandage was adequate as the blonde glanced him over.

“Find any of them, and tell them the Princess has collapsed. She is resting in Lord Nobunaga’s tent,” he instructed with a swift nod.

Hideyoshi rushed back to the camp as soon as the news was received. Oda had said nothing but would make sure everyone else left him alone later until they had figured things out for themselves. The Princess had no degeneration, but to see her in such a state without a cause was concerning for them all involved. There was nothing anyone could do for her by staying behind, she had a guard protecting her, and she had Ieyasu to hand in case of any complications as the vassal pressed a light kiss to her forehead before returning to the front.

My eyes were sore. I had slept with my contact lenses in, as I slowly sat up and tried to see what my surroundings were until I realised that I stood very little chance without taking out my lenses. I heard the tent flap move as I went to remove the second one.

“Huh, future inventions?” Oda’s voice made me jump slightly, and I gave him a glare from mismatched eyes before taking the second lens out.

“It’s one way of proving it, could you get my glasses from my bag, please? My eyesight isn’t the best after having my contact lenses in for so long,” I sighed, gently rubbing my currently closed eyes.

I heard the flap move again, and the guard stiffly reply to his Lord’s request to retrieve my bag and a change of clothes. I knew it wouldn’t be long before the rest of the warlords descended on me, but then again with Nobunaga’s presence, it may be a different story. Some bowls of water were found, and a makeshift screen erected so I could change in private.

My glasses were similar in style to those that Sasuke wore, only I had thinner frames, and my eyesight was nowhere near as bad as the poor ninja’s. It was bringing the world into focus for me and made reading a lot easier, though to avoid needing always to be removing my protective gear I favoured contacts, which also gave me the option to darken my eyes to a shade of brown from their unusual wine colour.

Tokugawa let himself in while I was changing and gave me his usual unimpressed expression.

“I didn’t exactly plan it,” I snorted, folding my arms.

“No, but there’s definitely the obvious right now that you’re Nobunaga’s sister,” the blonde shrugged, sitting me back down on the futon as I stared at the tsundere man in shock. “You two act and look like siblings, so shall we just face the obvious?” He asked us, acting as though we were the idiots in this situation.

“Just make sure she’s fine,” Oda grumbled, glowering at the other man in the tent.

I kept reaching for the bowls with water in to rub into my eyes. They were dry and itchy, and water was the best thing I had to hand. Tokugawa had left us for now, and it was like staring into a mirror after all of my dreams.

“I had these really vivid dreams,” I needed to break the stifling silence around us. “That you fought with me in one arm against someone else in the family, at father’s funeral,” I murmured, desperate to not look at his eyes as I needed to lift the burden on my chest. “Then there were all those occasions of you dragging me with you all over the castle, giving the staff heart failure as we’d be found in the pantry with the candies,” I was twirling a lock of hair around my finger. “And various people would catch us and scold us as Hideyoshi does now,” I couldn’t stop the faint smile from spreading across my face. “Then there are the times you would storm into the middle of my dance lessons to correct what I was doing,” I trailed off.

His hug was territorial. I couldn’t stop the tears as he laughed at them.

“I thought you’d been killed,” he admitted. “If you fell through a wormhole to get here, then you must have fallen through one to leave. At least you are safe,” he patted me on the head.

“And you stole my cat,” I sulked. “He hates people, but loves you! The things I’ve done for him,” I pouted and mock glared at the devil king.

“Well, you did name him after me,” Nobunaga smugly announced before I swatted him on the arm. “Then again I announced you to your proper title before we found out the obvious, princess,” he smirked. “Now to torment the rest of them,” he leaned in, a glimmer in his eyes that I recognised as dangerous for poor Hideyoshi, not that it would stop me doing anything as I grinned in response.

Toyotomi was wearing a hole in the ground around the campfire. Masamune was finishing dishing up some food, and chuckling at the state that his friend was getting himself into.

“So when are you two going to kiss?” Date grinned.

“Er, what?” Hideyoshi snapped his head up, a blush dark across his cheeks as he remembered the steamy string the couple had shared when he caught them sneaking candy late at night.

“Oh, I see,” the one-eyed dragon laughed. “She’s good then?”

“I will remove your remaining eye,” Hideyoshi threatened, the colour in his cheeks trying to outshine the flames next to them.

“You’ll need Nobunaga’s permission anyway,” Ieyasu added into the conversation. “She’s his sister after all.”

“What?” Masamune dropped the ladle he had been holding into the pot.

“Natsuki, she’s the missing sister,” Tokugawa shrugged. “She’s wearing glasses at the moment, and you can see that they’re practically the spitting image of each other, so no wonder Hideyoshi likes her,” the blonde added to the conversation, not taking his eyes off the bowl of food he was consuming.

Hideyoshi leapt over the seats and soldiers, making the other warlords smirk in knowledge before barging into the tent, his breath hitched in his throat.

“Er, hi?” I questioned, sitting on the floor next to Nobunaga, both of us taken aback by the sudden intrusion. It was like looking at the obvious now we had all figured it out, and my glasses were still absolutely disgusting. I pushed them back onto my face in defeat, acknowledging that I would need to find a clean piece of fabric somewhere and probably some water.

“So, it’s true?” Toyotomi was addressing Oda rather than me, and it irritated the hell out of me.

“You can ask either of us, instead of just defaulting to Nobunaga just because he’s a man,” I snapped, glaring at the vassal as I felt my brother’s smirk widen behind me.

“She does have a point,” Oda was enjoying this way too much as Hideyoshi was blushing for an entirely different reason now. “Anyway, we pack up camp, there is no point to further bloodshed,” the warlord declared. “And you will be sticking close to Ieyasu or me while we sort things,” he said, looking at me. I had to concede with a smile since I had not long recovered from fainting.

My brother was becoming an unbearable tease once we arrived back. It was officially announced that I was the sister of Nobunaga, and then there was a rapid increase in the interest and mail I was now receiving from daimyos, including Shingen Takeda who had decided I was now worthy of his attention. Nobunaga was thriving in the fact that I was determined to do as I pleased still, and kept up my role as Chatelaine seriously, despite that virtually of the staff were now terrified of me because of my change in the family name. Though the person I was missing the most, was the change in Hideyoshi. The vassal had taken to avoiding me completely at every turn. He was never there to offer me any help, but I had heard he was always scouring the castle to find any way of making sure he wouldn’t walk into me. It was hurting me, and Oda had figured it out.

I was told to wear a red kimono that my brother had made for me, and Kinu had done my hair in a different style while I was stood waiting at the gates at the time he had told me to. It was confusing, but I figured that he had a reason since he’d never given me any kind of instruction like this before.

It felt like a lifetime before someone was running in my direction. I was surprised to see that it was Hideyoshi, but apparently not as shocked as he was at my appearance.

His lips and mouth were red hot. I was cradled in his arms, and my head was being held to his demands. His tongue explored every millimetre of my mouth as I returned the fire, my arms wrapping around his neck just to give me something to hang onto. Then I jumped into his arms as a loud bang startled us both.

My brother was definitely the instigator of the entire scenario since he was wearing the biggest smirk of all the warlords. Not that Hideyoshi was letting me go, he just helped me to stand back on my feet and glared at our friends as I was trying to suppress a laugh.

“I told you monkey, she likes the sake and dumplings at the teahouse,” Nobunaga smirked broadly, not hiding his amusement at the situation.

“Oh, you set this up?” I asked, widening my eyes at the cocky man.

“Well, he was too busy avoiding you to make a move,” my brother replied. “Now go and make things right,” he ushered us away with a hand gesture and a knowing smirk. “And I don’t expect you to come home tonight, am I understood?”

“Yes, sir!” I laughed, before dragging Hideyoshi out of the gates.

[whydontweband]

The Melody In My Head (A Jonah Marais Imagine)

Masterlist

Part One

*As Requested*

Disclaimer: Because this request contained more in-depth plot-lines and story segments, it will be divided into three parts, posted at different times

Have a lovely day!

Word Count: 2329

Description: In which your boyfriend, Jonah, hears you singing to yourself and, on a whim, records it. Funny, how one simple recording, posted to the internet, can change someone’s life forever.

    I’d never been a very outgoing person. Even as a kid, I’d always preferred the company of my own imagination and thoughts to those of other children. I never tried out for any extra-curriculars, never managed to make more than a handful of friends, never really became anything. I was always just Y/N, the girl at the back of the class, with my head in a book, keeping to myself, not rocking the boat. I was a freshman in university at Stanford now, my dream school, because being smart had always been the only thing that I really excelled at. That may come across as sounding insecure to some people, but I don’t think of it that way. I never really valued anything over my education, not even my social life. Which made it particularly shocking to the few who know me well when the word broke that I’d started dating a rising international pop star. I remember the first day after the word hit the internet, a few articles had hit the tabloids, and a few photographs of us on a date at the park had surfaced; my mom called me up on the phone to make sure I hadn’t had a social breakdown. My few closest friends had called to see if I was being held against my will. Of course, neither of those things were true, but to this day I’ll get comments on how different we are- and truthfully I don’t know if I could explain how we fell in love if it would save my life. Some things are inexplicable, and when they happen it takes most everyone by surprise, even though it suddenly becomes the most natural and comfortable thing in the world for you. I’d been with Jonah for about a year now, and while most everyone is supportive, I’d be lying if I didn’t notice a blog post here or tabloid story there, talking about how odd it is that such an outgoing and self-assured guy like Jonah would be dating such an introverted, anti-social Brainiac like myself. I’d seen more than a few fans comment how it reminded them of Troy and Gabriella from High School Musical, but I’d never seen much of Gabriella in myself. Maybe Kelsey, but without the piano skills, or Ryan Evans. Nevertheless, we somehow fit together, and somewhere along the road, he’d become my favorite person, which is a massive step up from my previous favorite person- no one.

“Hey babe, the boys and I are heading out for pizza, you sure you don’t wanna come?” Jonah shouted from down the hall. I nibbled absentmindedly on the edge of my ballpoint pen as I continued copying down the notes from last weeks lecture into more legible handwriting. Smiling softly, I shook my head, before realizing he couldn’t see me.

“No, that’s ok! You guys have fun!” I replied, loud enough for him to hear as I went back to shuffling through loads of scrap paper that I’d assembled in a quasi-organized heap on Jonah’s bed. My apartment was much closer to campus, but on the weekends breaks I would come stay at the boys house. It was currently almost summer break, and I was doing some last minute cramming before finals- before I would be free for the entire summer. Jonah peeked his head in from around the corner of the door, smiling cutely as he walked in, wearing a yellow and black Thrasher t-shirt, torn black skinny jeans and a pair of grey Yeezy’s. I smiled, sighing as I laid back on the cushions of his bed, tired from all of the work I’d been doing as he leaned over me.

“How’d I get such an amazing girlfriend?” He mumbled softly as I giggled.

“Probably because your lame-ass was scouting for girls at the library, and I was the only one there under 100.” I chuckled. Jonah laughed, shaking his head as he leaned down and kissed my forehead.

“And I thank my lucky stars every day that I chose you over Ruth, you’re a lot prettier, and your teeth are a lot more real.” He quipped. I smiled, rolling my eyes as I shoved him slightly.

“Go on, have fun with the guys.” Jonah pouted, pretending to be offended as I giggled.

“It’d be more fun if you came too, ya know.” I shook my head, pursing my lips jokingly and shaking my head like a difficult child.

“Mmm, hard pass.” Jonah sulked playfully as I shook my head.

“J, clubbing is so not my scene, you know that.” I replied softly. Jonah smiled, nodding softly.

“I know, Y/N. Alright, well listen- we should be back around 1 or so, but don’t wait up. Tomorrow I promise we’ll have a night in, just you and me.” I smiled, biting my lip bashfully and nodding.

“Ok, sounds good.” Jonah grinned, towering over me as he leaned down and kissed me softly.

“I’ll see you later, baby.” He takes my hand in his, our fingers weaving together as he squeezes it tightly, before letting it go.

“Mkay, I love you.”

“I love you mooooore.” He cooed as he made his way towards the door. I rolled my eyes playfully, waving him off as I replied.

“Not even remotely possible.” Jonah smirked, shaking his head.

“Argument for another time, then.” He patted the doorway before heading out, and I listened as his shoes collided one by one with the stairs as he made his way to the front door where the other guys were inevitably waiting. I smiled to myself, before sitting up and continuing my work.

    After several more hours of note taking and study materials, my brain had been officially fried. Rubbing my sleep-deprived eyes, I sighed, making my way downstairs to grab some water from the fridge. As I went, I turned on every light in the house, which was arguably one of Jonah’s biggest pet peeves about me, but I couldn’t help it if I didn’t like the dark.

As I took a glass from the cupboard and turned the faucet, I began humming quietly to myself. It was nothing in particular, just something to pass the time and fill the silence I suppose. Checking my watch, I realized it was around 1:30am.

“Boo!” I jumped, dropping the glass in the sink and spilling water all over me in the process as Jonah laughed hysterically, stepping out from around the corner where he’d been hiding. Still in shock, I scoffed.

“Jonah you ass!” I exclaimed, laughing slightly, as I looked down at my sopping wet pajamas. Jonah giggled, smiling as he extended his arms.

“Babe, I’m sorry- you’re just so damn gullible.” He giggled. I crossed my arms, still aggravated but defenseless against his adorable “I’m sorry” face. Rolling my eyes, I gave him a hug, dampening his t-shirt as I did so. He smiled.

“When did you get home? I didn’t hear you come in.” He shrugged, picking up my glass and re-filling it.

“Just a few minutes ago. The other guys headed to bed, I was just coming in to get some something to drink, great minds think alike I guess.” I blushed slightly, funny how even after a year of dating the littlest things he would say could still make me blush.

“I guess so.” I retorted. He smiled, handing me my now full glass of water and grabbing a bottle of Gatorade from the fridge.

“Alright, well I’m gonna turn it in, are you coming up to bed?” I nodded in reply.

“Yeah, just a minute, I need to wipe up this mess.” I pointed to the puddle of water beneath me that I’d created in my moment of terror. He smiled sympathetically.

“Sorry about that.” He smiled, I shrugged.

“It’s ok, I forgive you for being a horrible person.” I teased. He clutched his heart mockingly as I smiled, kissing his cheek.

“I’ll see you upstairs in a few minutes.” Jonah nodded, taking his Gatorade and disappearing around the corner.I sighed, running a hand through my Y/H/C hair as I grabbed a washcloth from one of the cabinets and blotting the puddle that had collected on the tile floor. As I grew lost in the moment, I began singing softly to myself. I hadn’t really realized what I’d started singing until I reached the chorus- I’d been singing “Made for” by Why Don’t We.

Jonah

      I had just started making my way back upstairs with my Gatorade when I heard a soft meoldy coming from the Y/N’s direction. Raising a brow in confusion, I quietly made my way back, peeking into the kitchen quietly and noticing Y/N sitting on the tile floor, cleaning the puddle of water I’d accidentally made her spill. Just as I was about to turn around, the melody occurred again, and I realized that it was her singing. Singing one of our songs. Smiling quietly to myself, I listened for a moment, before instinctively pulling out my phone. The truth was, in a year of dating Y/N, I’d never once heard her really sing. She was phenomenal. It was like the voice of an angel, and singing one of our songs. I couldn’t help but let my face spread into a smile as I listened, recording her voice so that maybe she would one day see how amazing she is. The talented, incredible person I’ve always seen her for. Her voice lulled into a contented silence as I stopped the recording, smiling to myself as I headed back upstairs without her ever realizing I’d heard her.

After I got back to my room, I played the recording once over, listening to every little hum and lilt in her voice, the way she dragged out the sound of her R’s, and the way her inflection fell like flakes to a snow-covered ground. I couldn’t help but smile when I listened. Everyone deserved to hear how amazing she was. Sighing, I rubbed my eyes, completely exhausted as my thumb hovered over the Instagram app on my home screen. I bit my lip, clicking on it and I opening the video. I won’t post it. Not until I show it to Y/N. As amazing as it was, she’d never forgive me if I posted it without her knowing. My thumb hesitated for a moment on the post screen as I looked at it for a moment longer. There’s no way Y/N will let me post this. Never in a million years. She’ll make me delete the video, and no one will ever have the chance to see how talented she truly is. I wanted more than anything for the world to see her for the amazing person I saw her as…and maybe this would do that. Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair, shaking my head softly to myself. Regardless of what I wanted, I wouldn’t go behind her back. I’d ask her in the morning. Just as I was about to cancel the post, a voice in the doorway startled me.

“Hey you.” Y/N chirped cheerily. I gasped, my hand shaking as my phone dropped to the bed. She giggled, smiling as she walked over and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

“You’re such a scaredy cat, J. It’s so cute.” I smiled, heart still startled as I returned the kiss.

“Yeah, what can I say, I guess I’m just in a constant state of shock that someone as beautiful and smart and awesome as you would wanna be with lil ole me.” I teased. She laughed, shaking her head as laid down beside me, wrapping her arms around my waist and turning out the light.

“You’re crazy, Jonah.” I smiled, kissing her forehead.

“I love you too, Y/N.” By the time I’d finished my sentence and looked over, she was already drifting of to sleep. I pulled the covers up farther, quietly grabbing my phone from it’s place on the bed where it had fallen, preparing to set it on my bedside table when it vibrated. I raised an eyebrow, cautiously turning it on. Who was texting me at nearly 2 in the morning? I realized however, that it wasn’t a text. It was a comment from Logan on Instagram. My latest post was from a week ago, and he already commented on that. I through to myself groggily, opening up the notification. As tired as I’d felt, in an instant I was wide awake. Oh my god oh my god oh my god. My eyes grew wide as saucers as I came face to face with the post he’d commented on. A video, posted 1 minute ago. To an Instagram account with almost a million followers. The video. My hand must have slipped when I got startled, and now the entire world had access to Y/N singing. The view count ticked up by the hundreds every second. Comments were pouring in, all of our biggest fan accounts had already reposted the video in its entirety. It was too late now. The whole thing was out there for the world to see, and somehow it didn’t feel as good as I’d been hoping. It felt like a betrayal of her trust, and of course it was. But a part of it felt good too. The comments were overwhelming positive, including Logan’s which read:

@LoganPaul: DAMN BRO, WHY IS Y/N NOT THE SIXTH WDW MEMBER ALREADY?!

I couldn’t help but laugh a little, until I was brought back to reality by the fact that it had only been a couple minutes, and it already had over 50,000 views on my profile alone. It was going viral, and nothing I could do, not even deleting the video, would change the fact that Y/N’s life was now altered irreparably. There was no going back, no covering my tracks. I had approximately 8-10 hours, and then I’d have to face the music- both figuratively and literally.

End of Part One

1/3

(If you’re interest in the 2nd part pls let me know, and I’ll get to it faster.)

[angeltriestoblog]

How creating a LinkedIn made me question most of my life decisions

I tend to usher in the new year with very high spirits and lofty ambitions, and this time was no different. One of my main goals for 2020 is to land an internship: not going into the specifics because of my fear of jinxing it, but even though I already am required to take one over the summer before my senior year, I figured that it wouldn't hurt to have some prior experience that could possibly give me an advantage in the future. I've laid out most of the groundwork (that I'm aware of, at least)—scouting for potential employers across different types of industries, assembling my portfolio, and putting together my CV. I already had a sample curriculum vitae ready from this workshop I attended last year, which was held by my home org, so all I had to do was fill it in with my more recent endeavors and achievements so I'd be good to go.

I decided to put it up on LinkedIn, as well, to finish off the whole "My life is looking ridiculously put together, here's proof!" look I was going for (and also because one of my friends said that she was able to scout an internship with Paymaya through the website—hi, Shar!). All I needed was to add a little more bite to my summary, and scout for the most professional looking headshot swimming in my Camera Roll full of selfies with peace signs. I remember beaming as I put the finishing touches on my profile, ready for all the employment opportunities awaiting someone like me, who already had an impressive body of work to show for someone only in her second year of college in one of the most prestigious universities in the country.

But, that's the thing. I was only looking at my own track record, made aware of my personal achievements, which all seemed to diminish in value as soon as I gained access to the profiles of several thousands of others. When I fell down the seemingly endless vortex of people I may know, I was exposed to all of these overachievers with a stellar academic record, an extensive list of extracurricular activities in several organizations across all possible clusters, volunteer experience, certifications, and fluent languages, backed up by recommendations and testimonials by previous employers and co-workers. Sure, upon entering Ateneo, I was aware that I would be surrounded by the cream of the crop and I'd have a hard time standing out in a place swarming with extraordinary individuals, but I found this strange sense of comfort in not knowing the full extent of their capabilities. Now that I finally did, this voice creeped up in the back of my head and started whispering to me that all the work I put in over the years just wasn't enough.

I had initially blamed it on the fact that I'm an introvert, even if it's not obvious: a common misconception to this day is that it depends on how much and how loud you talk, but it all comes down to how you recharge your batteries. Once I've fully exhausted myself in social situations, I recuperate by retreating to my room for days, avoiding contact with anyone, reading a book, binge watching a show on Netflix, or simply staring at the ceiling to the tune of the first album Spotify shuffles. I don't do the best in social situations: I mean, I will talk to you if you do it first like we've known each other since childhood, but I'm not the type to go out of my way to introduce myself to someone I met for the first time. Sometimes, I'd crack a joke or tell a funny personal anecdote and gauge from their reaction if they're my type of person. And I was fine with living that way.

Plus, back in high school, all-around perfection wasn't exactly something we all aspired for: no one really cared about doing anything outside of the classes we were required to take everyday, and the one mandatory club we had to join as per the guidelines stated in the school handbook. I never had to worry about heading projects or expanding my network of people. When I got to college, I was surrounded by all of these go-getters who seemed to have had a headstart early on and thus got their lives figured out. They knew one another from parties and soirees, contests and seminars they joined in their youth: mutual friends—who could be used as a springboard for conversation—turned into a form of social currency I was short on. They showed no signs of the typical college freshman apprehension, made themselves visible and stepped up to the plate from day one, while I was busy avoiding human interaction and complaining about how I was so different from everyone else. When I finally picked up speed during the first semester of my sophomore year, worked my ass off, put myself out there and became a member of organizations and befriended so many new people, my heart couldn't help but swell with pride for doing better than I ever expected, and accomplishing more than I ever thought I could.

So, if I knew what I had been through to get to where I am, why did it feel like it was my fault for not keeping up with the standard everyone set for themselves, that they didn't necessarily want me to live up to? Well, in this capitalist society, we've come to romanticize the "hustle"—we feel like we should constantly be doing more, optimizing ourselves for every possible opportunity, using our skill sets as a means to gain profit. While it isn't wrong to set goals, be passionate about certain causes, and want to widen our network of people, this is how we end up not only spreading ourselves too thin to the point of burnout and fatigue, but also pitting ourselves against every person who manages to do something good for themselves. So yes, creating a LinkedIn account did make me question most of my life decisions: my decision to downplay everything I've done, when I, of all people, should know how much I deserve them, and my decision to wish I was more of what other people are so I could have the life they're having.

If I feel I can afford to give some new experiences a try, join a couple of other orgs next semester, talk to those outside my immediate social circle, you'll catch me doing so because I want to! Because I'm after the genuine self-improvement and unique experience! Not because I have this incessant need to keep up with those around me, or be labeled as "BS Org". If I'm starting to sense that my body is giving up on me because I've inadvertently bitten off way more than I could chew, I should learn to back away, reassess which ones are most important and value-adding to me, and realign my priorities accordingly. And if I honestly find it physically painful to stay outside of the 50m radius that is my comfort zone, I don't have to force myself if I'm not ready. Anyway, I already have strengths I can use to my advantage: I've been told, for instance, that I'm a great listener and will gladly be on the receiving end of several personal anecdotes even if we're meeting for the first time (and you happen to be drunk and oversharing). I pay attention to the little details, and am increasingly getting better in not putting off work I need to do.

Since January lasted so long that it's practically a new year again at this point, I hope you can all join me in making and keeping this resolution! (tl;dr) Let's be kinder to ourselves, and stop comparing our progress to those of others. That's a great way to reassure that we're stepping out of 2020 as a better person, which I suppose is what we’re all striving towards. Love all around, folks—also, stay tuned because I'll try to make time for another post sometime this month.

[capsicletho]

I Can’t Make You Love Me

…if you don’t. You can’t make your heart feel something that it won’t.

a Tony Stark series; author: @clareae | chapter 04

trigger: none

word count: 1853

summary: Reader and Tony found comfort in each other while they were trying to mend their own broken hearts.

a/n: I’m sorry for not updating in sooooo long, but my writing muse up and jumped out of the window one day and i just can’t bring myself to continue the series. But I know I have to finish this so here’s the fourth chapter. I promise it’ll get more fun after this! 

masterlist | ICMYLM directory | previous chapter

As soon as the alcohol entered your system, you were already less ladylike than you usually were when you’re in front of the other Avengers. All these times living in the tower, you have always tried to keep a distance from them; not far enough that you’d be strangers–after all you are living under the same roof–but just enough that you wouldn’t be too close. Even after a few months you still felt like an outsider and you were scared to disturb them with your presence. You know that they would need to go on a mission in a blink of an eye and you don’t want to be in the way, that’s why you’d rather keep to yourself.

But this time, with Tony and the help of a glass of his expensive bourbon which has helped with taking your mind off the fact that Steve haven’t been around as much as you liked, you were able to let yourself loose.

You sipped your bourbon and laughed. “I feel like every child has an obscure dream of their future except for you,” you commented at Tony’s admittance that he always knew he wanted to be like his father–inventing things that would benefit other people. “I wanted so desperately to be a princess. I had all these tea sets and tiaras and frilly gowns. I even joined a toddler pageant once,” you chuckled, reminiscing your childhood. You paused before adding, “I literally forced my parents to attend my tea party which was held every Saturday at 5 PM. I was really serious about that occupation.”

Tony smiled; a hint of sadness was shown across those eyes. Even when the lights were dim, you can still see it. Maybe he was thinking of how he didn’t have that kind of childhood; how his father was always a bit distant from him. 

You cleared your throat and changed the subject, “But anyway that dream went away by the time I was six or seven. I was already in girl scouts then and we had to sell girl scouts cookies, and there was these group of boys who would continuously bully me and my friends. They’d steal our cookies, sometimes he’d be subtle about it, but other times he’d take it and run away. So then, naturally, I wanted to do karate so I’d know how to defend myself–my idea of defending myself was a bit askew then. My dad, who was once in the army taught me some defense moves, and I remember that a few months before I turn seven he did it again, but I was quick to grab him by the back of his shirt and he lost his balance and fell. I sat on top of him and pried the box of cookies he stole from us and then hit him in the head with it a couple times; then I ripped open the box and just stuffed the cookies into his mouth.” You were bursting with excitement as you told the story; your hands were moving around and your eyes were lit up.

“It was really violent,” you laughed, watching Tony slap his knee as he laughed. “After that incident my mum took me off girl scouts and then she put me in ballet class so that I would leave all my boyish attitudes and be graceful,” you exaggerated the last word and said it how your ballet teacher used to say it. The two of you were quiet for a bit, the laughter dying down, but then you spoke up, “I think if I didn’t become a lawyer, I would become a ballet dancer instead. I loved doing it, I don’t know why I stopped,” you smiled.

:I think you’re a pretty good lawyer,” Tony said sincerely.

"How would you know?” You asked, genuinely curious.

“Oh, I know,” he nodded slowly and smirked.

“Oh God,” you rolled your eyes and laughed; somehow you knew that he must have also done research on your career when he said he’d find out about more about you. “Is there anything about me you don’t know?” You asked.

“I know you used to be a cheerleader. You did some good backflips,” Tony smirked. It seemed like it amused him to be able to drop snippets of your life and surprise you to how he was able to do it.

“No way. Don’t tell me there’s a video,” you gasped a bit.

“There are plenty of those. You should really use JARVIS to his full potential, not just to have him tell you the time,” Tony chuckled.

“You must have plenty of down time to have stalked me that much,” you teased.

“Eh, between innovating suits and finding Loki’s scepter, there’s really not that much going on for me. It’s all in Pepper’s hands,” he shrugged. He looked at the time, which prompted you to do the same.

“Is that really the time?” You asked rhetorically, gradually feeling the impending exhaustion that you’ve subconsciously been feeling all day. “I need to head to bed or I’ll pass out on the couch,” you chuckled. You stood up too quickly, almost losing your balance, but Tony was quick to grab your arm so that he could steady you.

“You need me to walk you to your room?” He asked; half-serious, half-mocking.

“I’ll be fine,” you laughed as you regained your footing, gingerly walking back to your room.

You woke up the next day and realise that it was a Saturday which meant that you didn’t have to go to work–which is lucky too, because it felt as if your brain was trying to break free from your skull, judging by the way your head was pounding so much. You have no idea how Tony might have endured all this; he drank so much more than you last night. Reaching over, you grabbed the glass of water on your nightstand–it has been a habit of yours to keep water there and today, you were thankful for it. You drank the entire content and forced yourself up, drinking the entire content and then heading to the bathroom. You squinted as you turned the lights on, but then your eyes adjusted quickly.

You pulled your hair back into a bun and splashed your face with cold water. Ten minutes later, after a failing effort to make yourself look less dishevelled than you really are, you made your way to the kitchen, searching for coffee. You decided you need to eat some greasy food to make the hangover go away, so you cooked some bacon and eggs and then sat around on one of the stool, propping your chin up on the kitchen island while slowly munching on your food.

“Good morning, sunshine,” a witty voice called out.

You groaned, “You need to teach me how to not get hangovers,” and then let out a chuckle at the end. You watched as he poured the last of the coffee pot into his mug.

“I do get hangovers, I just don’t show them,” a glimpse of his playful smirk was visible on Tony’s lips just before he sipped on his morning coffee. He then stole a piece of bacon from your plate, munching on it–somewhat it reminded you that you haven’t touched your food as well.

“Did I hear you two laughing at three in the morning?” Natasha walked in and sighed as she started to brew another pot of coffee. You grimaced at Tony, knowing that he should’ve filled up that pot, but he didn’t look too bothered. After the coffee pot started brewing, the redheaded assassin turned around and leaned against the counter, “So, what are you both doing at three in the morning?” She smirked.

“Since when are you so nosy?” Tony remarked at her, placing his cup of coffee down.

Natasha shrugged, “Just making sure (Y/N) is being careful, hanging out with an pompous alcoholic at three in the morning,” she smirked at you. You couldn’t help but smile back.

“Don’t worry, he was uncharacteristically tame last night,” you somewhat defended Tony; after all he did help you take your mind off things, and you remembered you haven’t thanked him.

“Ooh, be careful, (Y/N). That means he wants something,” Clint chimed in from behind you and from over your shoulder he grabbed a piece of bacon from your plate.

“Need I remind you that the lady is taken by the Capsicle,” Tony scoffed.

“Aw, don’t sound so bummed old man,” Clint replied. You were enjoying their playful banters, and just when Tony was about to say something witty back, it was interrupted by JARVIS. You were slow to pick it up, but you finally understood.

Apparently on one of Steve’s journey on finding Bucky while also looking for the missing Asgardian scepter, he found a HYDRA base that housed it in Sokovia, and that’s why he wanted the Avengers to assemble as soon as possible. With that, the Avengers who were sitting around you immediately got up and got ready in lightning speed; it was like your world was buzzing and just like that they were climbing into the Quinjet parked on the helipad–or Quinjet-pad, whatever it was called.

You remained seated on your stool as you witnessed the entire thing; usually you’d be saying goodbye to Steve, but this time he wasn’t there. But just before Tony climbed on board, he stole another piece of your freshly-cooked bacon–not because he was hungry but just out of habit, since that was what he and Clint has been doing all morning–and jogged up to the pad, “Bye, (Y/N)!” He called out.

You smiled, “Bye,” you trailed off just as the Quinjet’s doors closed. The minute the aircraft took off, you can feel the emptiness and the silence of the tower dawning on you. You realise how quiet it was without them there; not that you’ve never been alone in the tower before, but usually you weren’t that close to the Avengers.

You’ve always maintained a safe distance from them–not too far that you’d be strangers, but just enough so that you weren’t too close. Somehow, you still feel so out of place in this tower, and if it weren’t for Steve begging you to come and stay with him in the tower–not that he was here often ever since he found out about Bucky–you wouldn’t even think about the idea of staying here. Every time, you feel as if you’ll be in their way or something and that’s why you preferred to keep to yourself, but today’s playful little banter and last night’s drunken conversation with Tony told you that you have nothing to worry about; just like Steve said, they would probably like having you around to chat with–someone with no superpower like them and someone ordinary just to keep them on their toes.

“JARVIS,” you called out to the AI. “Tell me about Sokovia.” You never tried to look up the things they do other than the stories Steve would tell you, but somehow today, you found yourself immensely interested to find out more about their mission.