#but this whole thing just showing how good chester truly was cause no one came even close at all | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chaoticpuff17 · 3 years

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When the Chips are Down

part 2

masterlist

Hello darlings.... I did a thing. I did not intend to update this, in fact I was going to do SWGD updates or do a sequel to Baby Mine, but here we are. It’s a little short, but enjoy!--- chaotic puff.

Y/N was exhausted both mentally and physically. Pushing Namjoon away didn’t work. The man was like an octopus. Take away one arm, and another takes its place. She just didn’t have the energy to keep him at bay. It was easier just to let him wrap himself around her. It wasn’t as though she could run. Where could she hide on a plane? And she doubted very much that any of the attendants or Jin would help her either. She was in a heap of trouble. Even though Namjoon promised no repercussions, she knew he had to have something else in mind. Namjoon was never one to let such a slight go unpunished.

The flight left her even more exhausted, and she had to be begrudgingly grateful for Namjoon’s foreplaning. The pajamas and the bed were extremely comfortable, much more so than her dress would have been or even any of the cushy seats outside of the private bedroom. Namjoon was also extremely attentive to even the slightest sign of discomfort from her. The attention to detail made the flight slightly more bearable even if there was a constant niggling anxiety over the health of her baby. She knew full well she wasn’t supposed to be flying in her third trimester, but it wasn’t as though Namjoon was giving her a choice. He never gave her a choice.

He did allow her her rest, and that was a small mercy. He didn’t push her to talk. He even encouraged her to rest knowing how taxing the journey was going to be on her and the baby. She’d slept for a good while, only waking up to allow Jin and the labor and delivery nurse to check her over and when Namjoon had had dinner delivered to them. He’d seemed apologetic for waking her up, but according to him, it was important to keep her strength up, for the baby, and she wasn’t going to tell him that skipping one meal probably wasn’t going to hurt either of them. It just wasn’t worth the argument.

She cradled her stomach with one hand as she thought of what was waiting for them in Korea. Namjoon would never let her out of the house again. There was little doubt of that, but what would that mean for the baby? Her poor little fútbol player. Her miracle. She never wanted this for any child of hers. Children had always been so iffy for her. Her last two pregnancies had been disastrous. She had been constantly worried over the health of the baby. It was part of the reason that she and Mark had settled in Italy. She was worried about losing the little one, worried how the stress of constant running would affect them both.

She should have kept moving. She should have allowed Mark to bring them both to somewhere that Namjoon never would have found them, some small island in the middle of the ocean, or deep in some forgotten countryside. It was too late for what ifs though, far too late. There would be no escape for her, but she prayed that there could be one for Mark however slim the possibility was.

A small comfort in all of this was that her sister was safe. She’d been so careful to never let Namjoon know about her sister. Iya and Chester would be safe at home living their lives free from the mess that she had gotten herself into. It pained her more than anything that she would never see Iyla again, but it was worth it to keep her sister safe even if she couldn’t do the same for herself or her baby. Iyla was safe. By some minor miracle, she was safe.

She groaned shifting as the baby sent a harsh kick to her kidneys. Namjoon instantly perked up hovering over her worriedly.

“What’s wrong?” He asked eyes flitting over her form and hands hovering over her belly unsure of what to do or what was wrong. He’d been hovering the whole flight.

“I’m fine.” She hissed rubbing soft circles on her belly silently asking her little one to calm down. Every time the baby kicked too harshly, Namjoon began to fret over her. She didn’t need any fretting. She needed some peace and to not be several thousand miles in the air, maybe then she could relax. The estate was a prison, but it was at least a familiar and an exceedingly comfortable one.

“Is it the baby?” He asked placing his hand over hers his gaze intently focused on her belly. “Should I get Jin?”

“They’re just kicking.” She groaned sinking back into the pillows again. “They’ll settle down soon enough. They’re just a little active right now.”

Namjoon’s eyes flickered to the monitor nervously. It was an odd expression on him. She didn’t think that she’d ever seen him truly nervous before. “Are you sure? I can get him.”

She nodded tiredly, adjusting herself so that she was half lying down with a pillow supporting her belly and another stuck between her legs. It was one of the few ways she could get comfortable now that her belly was so large. Mark had always made sure that she was settled comfortably.

She could remember the first night her growing belly had caused her too much discomfort to sleep well. He’d come back the next day with a variety of new pillows and a heap of advice from the nonnas of the village. She rarely had to ask Mark to do things. He went above and beyond without ever saying a word about it. If he saw a problem, he fixed it. It was one of the things that she loved about him. He had made the adjustment to motherhood easier. He had been a pillar for her even though he was grieving as well. They’d leaned on each other to get through the worst of it, and she wasn’t sure how she was going to finish this pregnancy without him. She wasn’t supposed to go through the last of it without him.

He’d treated her and her baby as though they were family, as though they were his own. He’d been there for everything, the first flutters of movement, the first kicks that he could actually feel. He’d been there for every prediction that the nonnas gave her about the baby, and the nonna did love to predict and give advice. Some were convinced it was a boy because of how the baby was sitting. Others swore she was having a girl. She and Mark didn’t care though. All they wanted was a healthy baby.

Mark wouldn’t be there for the most important part though, and that killed her. He was supposed to be there. He was supposed to hold her hand and tell her it was alright as she brought their baby into the world. It was their baby, not Namjoon’s, never Namjoon’s. She couldn’t let Namjoon know that though. It would be detrimental for both herself and for Mark. She’d have to readjust her thinking to play into Namjoon’s ego. Unfortunately he was the most important person at the moment. All of their lives were in his hands, and if she didn’t cater to his whims, they would all be in danger.

“I should get Jin.” Namjoon murmured even as he wrapped himself around her showing no sign of leaving her to call for the doctor.

“I’m fine.” She hissed again but made no move to make him remove himself from her. It was too much effort when he would just wrap himself around her again.

“You should get some more rest.” He murmured into her hair. “We have a few more hours until we land.”

Rest. Both Jin and Namjoon had been henpecking her telling her to rest, but how could she given the circumstances? There was too much uncertainty, too much to worry about. Mark would have told her not to worry. Worry was bad for baby and bad for momma, but Mark wasn’t here.

If there was one thing she could take comfort it, it was the fact that she doubted Namjoon would hurt her while she was pregnant, and she very much doubted that he would hurt the baby. Namjoon was far too prepared and fussy not to be concerned over both her health and the baby’s. She wouldn’t be surprised if he already had everything ready for them at the estate, or at least as ready as he could be without knowing the baby’s gender. But gender didn’t matter so much with newborns. They outgrew clothes so quickly that it was better just to go with neutral things that could be reused for any other kids that came along.

Now that was a thought. Would she have other children? How many did Namjoon want? It wasn’t something they’d ever really discussed. It wasn’t something she’d ever really wanted to discuss with him, but kids were upon them whether she liked it or not. If the baby was a boy, he’d have his heir, and maybe they would be done. If it was a girl, there would definitely be more children in their future if only for the sake of succession.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like kids. She adored them, but she wasn’t so sure of having Namjoon as the father. She didn’t want him as a husband much less something as permanently binding as the father of her children.

She’d dared to dream in that little Italian village of a life, a life with Mark. Their little house would be filled with life and laughter. There would be siblings for her current little one running around. It would have been quiet, nice. It would have been almost everything she could have ever wanted, but daring to hope was foolish, especially with the baggage hanging over both of their heads, and Namjoon’s arrival proved that. And with his arrival, her little fantasy life drifted away like so many other dreams.

“I’m sorry, jagi.” He murmured into her hair. Stunned to hear an apology, she waited, keeping silent to see if he would elaborate. “I know flying has to be uncomfortable for you right now, but it’s the fastest way home.”

Of course that was what he was sorry for. He was sorry that she and the baby were uncomfortable, but there was no remorse for once more uprooting her from her life.

“It’ll be over soon.” She muttered under her breath nuzzling into the wall of pillows that kept her and Namjoon propped up. They had to be either Namjoon or Jin’s doing. There was no way that the plane regularly had such an absurd amount of pillows.

“Just a few more hours.” He assured his long fingers intertwining themselves with hers over her belly. “And then we’ll be home.”

part 3

#bts #bts fic #yandere bts #bts rm #bts namjoon #bts fanfic #kim namjoon #namjoon x reader #mafia namjoon #yandere namjoon #RM #rm x reader #mafia #mafia au #a dangerous game #dark romance #when the chips are down #yandere

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darlingpetao3 · 3 years

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House of W (Multiple!Wells x Reader, Chapter 2)

Rating: T

Summary: After having to deal with the deaths of an infinite number of Harrison Wells in the Multiverse, you, a magic-wielding meta, have a breakdown and unwittingly create a happy, fictitious sitcom life with some of your favourite men. In a world of comedy and cameos, can Team Flash and an out-of-town magician break through your powers to save you? And what if you don’t want to be saved...?

Tag List: @fandomdancer @bluesclues-1234 @pinkdiamond1016 @crissymadlock @ensign-tilly @disneyoncerlover815 @marvel-lady10 @thecaptainsgingersnap @noctvrnalmoth @alexxlynn @dontbedumb3 @heyl0lwhatsup @ryou-cosmos

PROLOGUE | CHAPTER 1

Birds tweeting, sun shining…

Big strong arms around you.

“Well, well, Wells,” you say with a scratchy morning voice and twist your body around in bed to see who’s got you in his grasp. Ah. “Good morning, Harry.”

“Good morning, (Y/L/N),” the scientist replies. You just love how strands of his hair stick up in place. Harry arguably has the best bedhead.

“You know dear, since we are married after all, don’t you think it would be more acceptable to call me by my first name?”

Harry chuckles and pulls you closer against him.

“You do raise a fair point. (Y/N).”

“That’s more like it.”

He kisses your nose. Shortly after he does, it starts to feel itchy. You feel like you’re about to sneeze. It wiggles and wiggles until—

“Achoo!”

Suddenly, Harry, who had been clad in his silky pyjamas is now- oh my.

“(Y/N), did you just sneeze my clothes away?”

You can hardly answer the Wells in your bed because you’re so enthralled by his lack of clothing under the sheets.

“Happy accident?” you offer innocently. Harry shakes his head and smiles as if to signify that you’re up to your old antics again.

“Come here, you,” he says and pulls the covers over you both.

* * * *

The scene is really quite comical.

Harry walks briskly with his long legs into work at S.T.A.R. Toys Manufacturing Inc. as you try to keep up with quick little steps and a clipboard… while H.R. trails behind you like a maniac with a tray of coffee.

“(Y/N), I believe you have some explaining to do,” Harry speaks to you over his shoulder. “Can you remind me why you’re at work with me? And why the numbskull, too?”

“Handsome numbskull!” H.R. jokingly clarifies. Harry rolls his eyes.

“I told you, honey,” you begin, “I decided it would be best for me to get a job instead of sitting around the house. Plus, an assistant here was the only position available. I thought that was terribly convenient. We can spend more time together now, isn’t that wonderful? As for H.R., I hired him as my assistant!”

“My assistant has an assistant?”

“Don’t question it, honey,” you tell him and pat him on the cheek. Just then, two young employees walk up to you. They look rather familiar, but you can’t place why at the moment.

“Good morning, Mr. Wells,” the pair greet Harry. “And Mrs. Wells. ...And Mr. Wells.”

“Ah, good morning Garcia. Runk,” Harry answers. “I trust your projects are coming along?”

“That they are, Sir,” the young man called Runk replies.

“We should have them finished and ready by end of day,” Garcia, the young woman, adds.

“I’m glad to hear it-”

“-Well done, chaps!” H.R. interrupts. “You’re all doing such magnificent work. All for the children.”

“All for the children,” Garcia and Runk agree.

Harry clears his throat and whispers to you, “I think assistants to the assistants should be seen and not heard.”

“I’ll have a little chat with him,” you tell your handsome boss husband. “Now, let’s build some toys!”

* * * *

After a long day at the factory, you, Harry, and H.R. all return home. The delicious scent of dinner greets you as you walk in the door.

“Mmm, I wonder what Sherloque and Nash are cooking up!” you think out loud.

“I hope it’s nothing French,” Harry says semi-bitterly.

“H.R., can you go see what they’re up to in there, sweetie?”

“I most certainly can, dearest!” he responds then disappears into the kitchen. You are sure to take this opportunity to have some more one-on-one time with Harry on the couch. As you sit, he sets his briefcase down on the coffee table and removes from it a small rocket ship. After turning it around in his hands, Harry hands it to you.

“I’d been working on this today,” he says.

“Oh Harry, it is so groovy. You do such fine work.”

“The idea came to me in a dream.”

“You make dreams come true for children every day.”

Harry turns to you. “I think I’ve always wanted kids. But I guess it’s never happened for me.” He looks into your eyes. “I think I’d like to have one with you someday, (Y/N). How do you feel about that?”

“I feel… I feel…” Your nose starts to wiggle again. “Achoo!”

“(Y/N), are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

“Oh, yes, I’m completely and totally, whoaaaa!” You stand up to get a better look at yourself, finding that your tummy has a noticeable roundness to it.

“Are you…?” Harry asks. The rest of the Wells men come rushing into the living room.

“Qu’est-ce qui se passe?”

“I heard another sneeze!”

“Jumping juniper, (Y/N)’s pregnant!”

They all group around you in a half-circle to admire your belly and to declare their delight at the very abrupt surprise.

“Is this really happening?” you ask all of them, falling deeper and deeper into your happiness.

“I couldn’t imagine a better life with you,” Harry says and punctuates his final word with a kiss. Everything about this moment just seems… so much more colourful and vibrant.

And perfect.

~ ~ ~ ~

Barry had urgently messaged Cisco and Caitlin to meet him back at the Grand Central City Auditorium, where they had just seen Zatanna’s magic act. The plan—what very little of a plan he had—was to race to find Zatanna, the Mistress of Magic, and ask for her help.

Word on the street was that Miss Zatara’s act wasn’t mere illusions. People have said that she really does possess a special magical power. And if this was the case, she was their only hope to retrieve you from whatever world you’ve gotten yourself into.

They say sometimes you have to fight fire with fire.

Well, now Team Flash is going to fight magic with magic.

It took a bit of making a scene inside the venue with the security guards for Zatanna to finally come out of her dressing room to see who was causing the commotion.

“Hi, excuse me, what’s going on here?”

“Zatanna? My name is Barry Allen,” your brother introduces himself. “I was at your show tonight.”

“Flawless,” Cisco can’t help but add.

“Sure,” she says, probably very much wanting him to get to the point. “How can I help you, Barry Allen?”

“We have a bit of a magical issue. My sister has gotten herself into a situation. We need your help.”

Zatanna’s big round eyes squint slightly, but whatever she sees in these three strangers surely isn’t threatening.

“Your sister, you say?” The Mistress of Magic always did have a soft spot for family. “Where is she?”

“You better come with us and see for yourself.”

~ ~ ~ ~

“Wow, this is quite the setup,” Zatanna says, taking in the Cortex upon her arrival. “Now, you said that your sister is broadcasting her own sitcom?”

“That’s right,” Barry confirms. “I switched on the TV earlier, and there she was in black and white. But the weird thing is that her set looked almost identical to her home, except not because her real home exploded-”

“Yeah, that’s the weird bit,” Cisco pipes up sarcastically. “Definitely not that she’s married to four different versions of the same man.”

“What?” Zatanna looks entirely confused. “Okay, you guys are going to have to catch me up.”

“No problem. The episode is streaming online. On repeat.”

“Cisco, pull up the show on the monitors,” Barry orders. The engineer does so, and the crew proceeds to analyze the sitcom episode.

“This man... or these men, rather—you said they died?” Zatanna asks the room. The rundown the gang gave her on the way to S.T.A.R Labs was quite rushed, so naturally it would only generate more questions.

“That’s right. I saw them disappear before my eyes,” Barry confirms. “They sacrificed themselves for us.”

Zatanna hums in thought. “Whether they’re truly dead or not, she must be using an incredible amount of magic to create this world and broadcast this across the airwaves.”

“Guys!” Caitlin raises her voice. “We have an incoming broadcast!”

The monitors change after a bit of static. Now, instead of the episode Team Flash was watching, a brand new jingle comes through the speakers.

“Is this…?” Barry starts.

“She released Episode Two!” Cisco cheers. Everyone in the room shoots him a look. “What? I’m invested.” As they watch the new episode, they take frantic notes, searching for any kind of clues.

“Look!” Barry points at the screen to the familiar faces.

“How did Allegra and Chester get in there?” Caitlin wonders.

“They have a guest-starring role…” Cisco notes, possibly with a hint of jealousy.

“And who are they?” Zatanna inquires.

“They’re our friends,” Barry clarifies. “At least, I think they are. They can't be illusions, can they? Created by (Y/N)?”

“I’ll call them and see if we can hear their phones ringing in the show,” Caitlin suggests. As she attempts the call, the rest of the team stands and stares at the screens hoping for some form of ringing sound. This episode seemed to be styled more in the Sixties, so it was unlikely that they’d actually see Chester and Allegra pull out a cell phone.

Nothing. No sound.

They must not have their phones on them…

A little while longer passes, with even more analyses by Team Flash and Zatanna studying your power on screen. Once in a while, she’ll ask Barry for background information about you. Which brings her to ask the all important question:

“How did (Y/N) get her powers?”

Barry goes on to explain your origin story, which coincides with his own. It was that one fateful night where Barry was in his CSI lab at CCPD, and so were you. You had stopped by to see how he was doing after the whole debacle of Iris getting her laptop stolen and Eddie saving the day instead. (To Barry’s credit, he tried really hard to catch the criminal, he just wasn’t fast enough). But you were checking up on him when the Particle Accelerator exploded and sent a wave of extraordinary, uncontained power across the city. You saw the lightning in the sky and tried to get Barry away from holding that metal chain, but in doing so, you also got caught in the crosshairs of the accident. Your brother fell into the shelf of chemicals as the lightning struck at the same time you knocked over a box of evidence—stolen ancient crystals from the Central City Museum.

Zatanna takes in the story silently, nodding in the right places. She’s deep in thought when a voice comes from the entrance to the Cortex: “Hey guys, what’s going on in here?”

Barry rushes to the two younger members of Team Flash, Allegra and Chester. “How did you two get in there? How did you get out?”

“Get in where?” Allegra wonders.

“Come on! In (Y/N)’s sitcom,” Cisco says. “Did she send out a casting call or did she just tell you that you got the parts?”

Chester and Allegra glance at each other with identical furrowed brows.

“You really don’t know what happened, do you?” Caitlin asks them.

“What happened?” they reply in unison.

Cisco stands up immediately. “I’ll get the popcorn.”

As he replays the footage, both of the ‘guest stars’ shake their heads in disbelief.

“Wow, nope, don’t remember any of that,” Chester says.

“No,” Allegra agrees. “One minute I’ve got my feet up in the Lounge, and the next I’m here walking into the Cortex.”

“Interesting,” Caitlin muses. “Interesting, but beyond strange. It’s like they’ve been mind wiped of the experience. We need more answers.” The rest of the episode plays out to reveal the big cliffhanger at the end.

“(Y/N)’s going to have a baby?!” Cisco shouts. “Oh man, things just got real. I wonder who’s the father... You don’t think (Y/N) would turn her show into a Maury episode, do you?”

“Zatanna, is there anything you can do?” Barry asks desperately. “This is getting out of hand.”

“I can cast a locating spell. All I have to do is say the words of what I wish backward for it to take hold.” Zatanna readies herself. “(N/Y) etacol,” the magician utters with her eyes closed. Everyone in the room stands silent in case making any kind of noise would ruin whatever spell she has cast.

They hold their breaths.

“I’m getting something…” Zatanna says eventually. “It’s like a signal of sorts. I can see it in my mind. And it’s coming from… here.”

“What do you mean, ‘here’?” Barry presses.

“Here. As in S.T.A.R. Labs.”

#reader insert #harrison wells x reader #harrison wells imagine #harrison wells fanfiction #harry wells x reader #harry wells imagine #nash wells x reader #nash wells imagine #hr wells x reader #hr wells imagine #sherloque wells x reader #sherloque wells imagine #the flash imagine #the flash fanfiction

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swan-of-sunrise · 3 years

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Specs and the Flyboy (Chapter Two)

Summary: Jack is less-than-pleased that Daniel’s decided to hire a codebreaker for the West Coast SSR and needless to say, he and (Y/N) end up getting off on the wrong foot.

Pairing: Jack Thompson X Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: I’ve been blown away by all the positive reactions the first chapter got here on Tumblr and on AO3, so thank you so much for that! Hope you all enjoy this one too!

Chapter Two West Coast Strategic Scientific Reserve, Los Angeles (Previous Chapter)

“Sousa, I’ve got more important things to do this morning than interview some egghead pencil-neck geek with you. Go get your gal to do it.”

Jack glanced up from his paperwork in time to see Daniel roll his eyes in exasperation before answering. “I already told you, Jack, the codebreaker’s an old friend of Peggy’s and it would be a conflict of interest if she were present. Besides, she’s busy tracking down another lead on that shooter of yours.”

“Oh.” At Daniel’s words, the freshly-healed gunshot wound on his chest twinged uncomfortably, so Jack brought a hand up to furtively rub at it as he continued. “All right, Chief, when’s this shin-dig supposed to happen? ‘Cause I ain’t got all day to wait around, you know.”

“Peggy said not until eleven, but it could be any time between then and now. Say, you mind waiting here while I take these files down to Samberly, in case the codebreaker shows up early?”

“Sure, just hurry up, would you? I don’t wanna be stuck talking gobbledygook alone with this guy.”

If there was one thing Jack truly despised, it was the way smarter people flaunted their intelligence and made others feel like crap for not knowing about things like quadratic equations and iambic pentameter. Jack was smart – he’d gotten into Cornell on his own merits, after all – but he was certainly no Einstein and that was fine by him. But he’d met way too many people in college who thrived in making others like him feel that they were beneath them; he already believed the SSR had too many scientists on their hands, so he couldn’t understand why Sousa would hire yet another one to clutter the West Coast office.

Daniel stood and slid his arm into his crutch. “Aye aye, Chief.” After giving him a small salute, he grabbed his files and limped out of their shared office.

Unable to refocus on his paperwork, Jack tossed his pen down on the desk, leaned back in his chair and crossed his ankles on the edge of the desk as he allowed his thoughts to wander. Nearly a month ago, he’d been shot in his hotel room as he prepared to head back to New York after they solved the Zero Matter case; the hotel staff had found him right after and from what the doctors said, he’d have been a cooked goose if they’d shown up any later. But unfortunately, since he’d been the target of an attack by an unknown suspect or organization, he was forced to stay in Los Angeles with the West Coast SSR until the case was either solved or closed.

Hopefully that’ll be any day now, he thought to himself as he closed his eyes and clenched his jaw in annoyance; he hated everything about Los Angeles, from its absurd traffic jams and sweltering heat to the utter lack of any decent food. He hated the fact that he wasn’t a real chief, that as long as he was in Los Angeles, he was virtually useless. The women were all good-looking but with the open case and…well, his own off-the-books investigation, he sadly didn’t have any time to chat up dames…

“Um, Chief Sousa?” Jack’s eyes flew open and landed on a woman standing in the doorway with a hesitant look on her face. Speak of the devil, he thought with an inward smirk. “I’m sorry to, ah, disturb you, Chief Sousa, but we have an appointment…?”

Jack yawned and stretched his arms out. “You’ve got the wrong guy, doll, the name’s Jack Thompson. Sousa’ll be back any minute, though, he’s just takin’ care of some paperwork.”

The woman nodded in understanding. “Do you mind if I sit here and wait for him, then?”

“Go ahead.” She gave him a nod of thanks and took a seat in the chair beside Sousa’s filing cabinet; she immediately pulled out a file from her purse and a pair of wire-framed glasses, which she slipped on before beginning to skim the file. Jack observed her with mild curiosity from his own seat; the sunlight streaming through the office’s window illuminated the woman’s smooth skin and made her styled (Y/H/C) hair nearly glow, and her (Y/E/C) eyes, although partially obscured by her reading glasses, had an intensity to them that intrigued him. The women of Los Angeles were all knock-outs, sure, but the one sitting across the room from him had a quiet and effortless beauty to her that had instantly caught his attention; it wouldn’t hurt to try your luck with her, he told himself, could be worth a shot.

He was jostled from his thoughts when she suddenly spoke up, her eyes still trained on her file. “I’d appreciate it greatly if you’d stop ogling me like that.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He bit his lip as he tried thinking of another approach. “So, um, what’re you here to see Sousa about?”

“I’m afraid that’s between me and your boss.” The woman looked up from her file with a raised eyebrow and after appraising him for a moment, her gaze softened. “But if we’re asking questions, then why’re you in the chief’s office and not in the bullpen with all the other agents?”

Jack leaned father back in his chair and placed his hands behind his head with an easy-going shrug. “Just keeping his seat warm, helping him out with some cases, that sort of thing. You know, it’s a wonder how the branch managed to get anything done before I came along.”

“Well, then, I suppose it’s a good thing you’re here holding down the fort.” She quipped, closing her file and taking off her glasses. “I’ve heard talk that this branch was having a, ah…well, a challenging time running smoothly.”

He chuckled. “You could say that again. You know what the chief’s doing now? He’s gonna hire another egghead, this time a codebreaker. Can you believe that?”

The woman didn’t smile or laugh, but instead furrowed her brow. “I take it you don’t approve of codebreakers, Agent.”

“I don’t mind ‘em but let me put it this way: it’s post-war America and the last thing the SSR needs at a time like this is another pencil-necked, stuttering brainiac who thinks they’re better than everyone else just ‘cause they’re a little bit smarter. And it’s actually Chief, not Agent.” Jack corrected, grinning with self-assurance as he swung his legs off the desk and leaned forward in his chair. “Chief Thompson. What about you, doll, what’s your name?”

The woman crossed her arms and spoke, her voice all of the sudden dripping with malice. “Two chiefs for one office? I guess Peg was right about this branch…not that I was expecting any better of the SSR, of course. In my experience, government agencies have always been prone to stupidity.”

For the first time in a long while, Jack struggled to find his words and finally settled on, “You know Marge.”

“If you’re talking about Peggy Carter, then yes, she’s the one who recommended me for the open position of pencil-neck, stuttering brainiac.” She rose from her seat with narrowed eyes and placed her hands on her hips. “And it seems to me that all the issues with the SSR could be quickly resolved if there were more of us around and less of you arrogant, self-absorbed flyboys.”

His indignation rising, Jack jumped to his feet and stepped around the desk to stand before her with his arms crossed. “And apparently I was right about specs always needing to be the smartest in the room. You know, that sort of attitude could get you into a lotta trouble someday-”

“Are you threatening me, Chief Thompson?”

“So what if I am?! I outrank you, and I-!”

“Hey!” Daniel voice cut through the room, and Jack’s head whipped around in time to watch the chief limp into the office and slam the door closed behind him. “What the hell’s wrong with you, Jack, the whole damn building can hear you!”

Jack pointed an accusing finger at the woman. “Sousa, you can’t seriously be considering hiring this…this dame!”

“Call me ‘dame’ one more time and I’ll take that finger of yours and shove it right up your-”

“Whoa whoa whoa! Let’s all calm down, shall we?” Jack let out a huff of frustration and flopped back down at his chair, watching as Daniel took a step towards the woman and offered her his hand. “I’m really sorry about all that, Miss…?”

The woman hesitated a moment before giving his hand a shake. “(Y/L/N), (Y/N) (Y/L/N). It’s good to finally meet you, Chief Sousa, Peggy’s told me quite a bit about you.”

“All good things, I hope. Peg told me a little bit about you too, but I was hoping to learn more during this interview.” He gestured for her to sit in the chair facing his desk and as she situated herself, he made his way around his desk and set his crutch to the side before taking a seat. “Um, just pretend Chief Thompson isn’t here. I’m legally required to have another SSR agent sit in on interviews and he’s the only one not busy right now, so…”

(Y/N) shot Jack a contemptuous glare before smiling kindly at Daniel and handing over her file. “Oh, that certainly won’t be a problem, Chief.”

“All right, then let’s get things started. Can you tell me a little about your background and your experience with codes?”

“Of course. I graduated from Stanford University in 1940 and served five years overseas; two years stationed at the Government Code and Cypher School at Bletchley Park in London and the other three in the field with the OSS. You’ll see in my file that while I was officially an OSS operative, I was loaned out to the SSR to serve as a field codebreaker and upon Captain Rogers and Colonel Chester Phillips’ recommendation, I was assigned to the Howling Commandos to serve as their personal codebreaker from 1943 to 1945. I’ve worked with and have mastered dozens of variants of codes, and I was one of the minds behind the Native American Code Talkers. In the field, I took part in over fifty missions with the OSS, the SSR and the Howling Commandos; the intelligence I decoded aided in the take-down of all Hydra bases and was integral to several other highly-classified operations that I’m not at liberty to discuss.”

Daniel let out a low whistle, clearly impressed. “That’s quite the resumè, Miss (Y/L/N). It says here in your file that you trained Agent Carter in codebreaking at Bletchley Park?”

While (Y/N) gave her reply, Jack jotted down a quick note on the corner of his report. Once he finished, he gave Daniel’s foot a nudge and tilted the report in his direction so the chief could read it.

“So, um, Miss (Y/L/N), have you…?” Daniel’s eyes darted between Jack’s note and the codebreaker’s face. “Ah…” Sighing, he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Jack, your handwriting’s shit so you might as well ask her your own damn question yourself.”

Jack scowled and met (Y/N)’s annoyingly expectant gaze. “Have you actually been trained as an agent or did the Howlies babysit you during the war?”

“Thompson!”

“It’s all right, Chief Sousa. To answer your question, Chief Thompson: yes, I received basic training before I was assigned to the field, the same as any other soldier.” She raised a questioning eyebrow. “Do you have any other questions for me? I want to be sure that you’re on the same page as we are.”

Jack clenched his jaw. “Where do you get off-?”

“Thank you for coming in, Miss (Y/N).” Daniel got to his feet and shook her hand again. “I still need to run a couple routine background checks but as far as I’m concerned, you’re hired. You’ll get a call from me once everything is set.”

The codebreaker’s face broke into a grin as she stood. “Thank you, Chief Sousa. I’m looking forward to working with codes and the SSR again, and I’ll be sure to keep a lookout for that phone call. I hope you have a good rest of your day!”

She collected her things and walked out of the office without so much as a passing glance at Jack, who let out a snort of derision. “Sousa, you must really be flipping your lid this time, you can’t seriously hire-”

“Don’t tell me how to run my office, Thompson. We needed a codebreaker and she’s easily the most qualified applicant we’ve had.” Daniel snapped, sitting back down and resuming his paperwork. Jack couldn’t help but feel a little impressed; Daniel had come a long way from being a meek agent in NYC, even if he occasionally made stupid decisions like hiring (Y/N) (Y/L/N).

After about fifteen minutes, Daniel looked up from his work with a curious expression. “You know, I’ve never seen you so antsy about a woman before. What’s up?”

Jack shrugged. “I dunno, but something about her just rubs me the wrong way. We better find my would-be murderer soon so I can get the hell back to New York and never see her again.”

Daniel appeared as if he’d reply, but at that moment Peggy entered the office; the chief’s expression softened as he gave her a smile, looking every bit the lovesick idiot he was. “Hey, Peggy, how’d your lead pan out?”

“It didn’t, unfortunately. My potential witness was involved in an automobile accident early this morning, I arrived at the scene just after the coroner.” Peggy’s eyes flicked to Jack’s and softened with sympathy. “It seems as if you’ll be staying with us a while longer, Thompson.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! If you haven’t checked it out yet, I created a Spotify playlist for this series and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/21pWY7OiMFj8LaYpxhtVtW

Chapter Three

“Specs and the Flyboy” Masterlist

Tagging: @nnon-it-up @fluffymadamina @remmyswritings @ourstarsailor @darkusangelus @josis-teacup @marvel-jackt-loki-buck @yeetyeetchickenmeat @sameoldbaby @theserenityspace @seeing-but-not-observing @supervoldejaygent @momc95 @brooke0297 @kinda-c0nfused @outoftheregular @mads-weasley

#jack thompson x reader #agent carter #jack thompson #daniel sousa #marvel cinematic universe #strategic scientific reserve

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annemiek19 · 4 years

Text

Concert - Drew Starkey

A/N I post a lot more imagines on Wattpad about the Outerbanks. My name on Wattpad is kissniallerhoran ! I hope you enjoy this one as much as I did writing it. It honestly makes me miss concerts even more, especially this one because I would’ve seen 5SOS four time if Corona wasn’t here :(

Summary

You're going to see your favorite band with Drew.

Today is finally the day you have been waiting for for so long. On your birthday, three months ago, your boyfriend Drew gave you tickets to see your favorite boyband of all time: 5 Seconds Of Summer. Today is finally the day that you’re going to see them and you couldn’t be more excited. If it was up to you, you would be already waiting in line. You didn’t care if it would rain or not, you would be there all day just so you could be front row to see your favorite band. Drew was of course coming with you, but he didn’t want to wait the whole day. So you got to a compromise and decided to left just after lunch. You hadn’t slept very well, because you were so excited to go.

You were now getting ready to head out soon. You were wearing blue ripped jeans, with a Rollings Stone shirt, a leather jacket and white converse.

“Babe, have you seen my shi-.” Drew walked into your room and looked at you. “Found it,” he mumbled.

“Sorry,” you said with a smile.

“Nah, it’s all good. It looks better on you then it does on me.”

“No it’s doesn’t. It looks great on you. But you have another one in the closet.” Drew kissed your cheek before he walked to the closet and picked out a shirt. In stead of going with another band, he put on his white Chester shirt that you bought when you went on a vacation there a few years ago.

“This good?” he asked. He was wearing blue jeans with the white t-shirt.

“Yeah, you look hot.” Drew smiled.

“I can say the same thing about you.” He walked into the bathroom while you did your hair.

Once you were done, you head out to grab some lunch. You couldn’t stop talking about you seeing your favorite boyband again. They haven’t been on tour for almost two years, so you missed seeing them live. The 5 Seconds Of Summer concerts were one of the best. Before you met Drew, you would always go by yourself. Your friends didn’t really like them and you didn’t want to bother them by asking them to go, so you went by yourself. And boy, it was the best decision you ever made. You met some girls who where waiting in line and to this day, you’re still friends with them. You got front row and you screamed along with every song. It was one of the best feelings in the world and you couldn’t wait to share this with Drew.

“Is Y/F/N going to be there?” Drew asked after you were done with lunch and heading to the venue.

“Yeah. We’ll be meeting up with her first and then move down the line,” you said while quickly checking your phone to see where is was sitting. Y/F/N was one of the people you met at your first 5 Seconds Of Summer concert, which was almost 6 years ago. It’s insane that you’re still friends with her. She doesn’t live close by, so you stayed friends through the internet and meeting up at as many concerts as you could.

“Y/N!” you heard someone yell your name.

“Y/F/N!” you yelled as soon as you spotted her. You let go of Drews hand and ran towards her. You both yelled from excitement when you hugged each other.

“My good, girl. You look amazing!” Y/F/N said when you let go of your hug.

“Thank you. You too!”

“So, where is that boyfriend of yours? I would love to meet him?” You turned your head and saw Drew walking towards you with a big smile on his face.

“Y/F/N, this is Drew. Drew, this is Y/F/N,” you introduced them to each other.

“Nice to meet you,” Drew said while he shook her hand.

“Nice to meet you too. I’ve never imagined Y/N dragging her boyfriend to one of the concerts,” Y/F/N laughed.

“I didn’t drag him with me! He gave me the tickets.”

“I know, but it’s still brave.”

“Brave?” Drew asked.

“Yeah, I mean the 5SOS Fam can be pretty intense once its all starting.” Drew looked at you in shock.

“She’s joking. It’s not that bad,” you say.

“Oh no? What about three years ago when you got into a fight over Ashtons drum stick?”

“I didn’t start the fight. The girl next to me stole it from me. The bitch.”

“See what I mean?” Y/F/N said and looked at Drew.

“Oh you would do the same if someone did that to you.”

“Maybe,” Y/F/N mumbled. You laughed.

You talked for a while and then you moved to the end of the line. You were way to excited to stay still. You talked with the girls in front of you, while you held Drews hand. Before you knew it, the doors opened. You had the biggest smile on your face as the moment was finally getting closer. You got in the venue and pulled Drew with you to get as close to the barrier as you could. There were about four rows in front of you and you couldn’t complain. You were standing right in the middle and it was the best view. You could look over the girls in front of you, so you had no problem seeing the stage.

“How long before the show starts?” Drew asked. You looked at your phone.

“Half an hour for the opening act.” Drew nodded his head. You talked some more and then the lights went out.

Everyone started to scream, you included and it wasn’t even the band that would perform now. You heard Drew laughing next to you.

“This is only the beginning,” you yelled in his heard with the biggest smile on your face. The opening act walked on stage and started to play their set. You sang along to every song, already starting to lose your voice, but you couldn’t care less about that. After the opening act, it was finally time for 5 Seconds Of Summer to come up. You haven’t been to a concert in a while, so you felt a lot of energy going through you body.

“Just brace yourself for what’s going to happen next,” you said to Drew.

“Why?”

“You’ll see.”

The lights went out again and everybody started to scream even louder then for the opening act. The intro began and you couldn’t contain yourself to scream even louder then you already did. The band came on the stage and the screaming got even louder. You felt so much happiness going through your body.

“I thought we had a place, just our place, our home base, my headspace,” you screamed at the top of your lungs. You looked at your favorite band and screamed every lyrics along at the top of your lungs. You looked at Drew, who was bopping is head to the beat. You screamed and jump all night long.

When Ghost Of You came, Drew took this moment to wrap his hands around your hips. you turned around to him and wrapped your arms around his neck. You were singing along to the music while quietly swinging along.

“I love you,” Drew whispered in your ear.

“I love you too,” you said back and kissed him. The moment felt perfect. You were at a concert of one of your favorite bands with your boyfriend. You were smiling when you pulled back.

“This is truly one of the best nights of my life so far,” you said to him.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,” he said and pressed a kiss on your lips again.

The music picked up again, so you turned around to look at your favorite band. Drews hands were still on your hips. The concert went on and you had almost lost your voice when She Looks So Perfect began. You knew from the set list that it was going to be one of the last songs they would sing. You screamed along to the song while you jumped up in the air. You felt tapping on your shoulder. You turned around to see Drew standing behind you.

“And a shiny diamond ring with your name on it. Would you wanna run away too?. ’Cause all I really want is you,” you heard Calum sang. Drew got down on one knee, and pulled a box from his pocket. He opened it what showed a ring. Oh my god. Your hand covered your mouth in shock. This couldn’t be happening right now.

“Will you marry me?” he yelled. You felt the tears in your eyes.

“Yes!” you yelled back. Drew got up from the floor and kissed you. He put the ring on your finger once he pulled back. Your smile has never been this big.

“I love you so much,” he said.

“I love you too,” you said and kissed him again. He just proposed to you while you were at a concert of your favorite band. This night just got better and better!

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alma-berry · 5 years

Text

Kit’s secret fire message #9

Masterlist

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

There’s nothing if you aren’t there

A few seconds passed in complete silence. Kit stared at his trembling fingers, tracing the words on the paper in astonished bewilderment, like they appeared out of thin air, like they were the greatest magic trick ever performed, like they were his salvation.

He let out a long, deep sigh. The image of Ty on his knees, begging Livvy’s translucent figure to stay with him, his body crutched under the overwhelming weight caused by the searing agony of his loss and hope. And his own heart, shattering inside his chest.

All of that pain, that unimaginable pain, and those six words.. the words that changed everything. There’s nothing if you aren’t there.

For so many months, Kit knew, he had told himself that Ty did not want or need him. He left him, knowing that he was amongst the nothingness in Ty’s past, a faded ghost, soon forgotten. The irony was not lost on him though, that he was the ghost now, where Livvy was probably with him, more real to him than he ever had the right to want to be.

He knew it, and the knowledge kept him either from falling apart, or from healing his ever bleeding wounds. Because if he meant so little to Ty, than he made the right choice by leaving him. He would be the only one hurting.. and it doesn’t matter how much time it took him to vanquish the memory of Ty’s blazing smile from his mind, if that was even possible.. as long as Ty’s heart was whole and safe.

So why did you write all of those letters? A voice crept up on him, that gut wrenching doubt that kept his heart sealed to others. If you knew, without a doubt, that there is no possible way that he needs you as much as you need him, why did you even try? Why writing to him for months and months? Why refusing every single person that tried to reach the place in you that is occupied by the mere memory of Tiberious Blackthorn?

He remembered that night... strong hands on him, tracing the curve of his thighs, the soft skin of his wrists, and the wanting. Kit never wanted like that before, not even Ty. He was too young to even think about any physical aspect of his emotions. But the wanting was real in that moment, and Kit wanted nothing more then to let himself feel loved and needed. His whole body yearned for it, for the freedom of forgetting. But seconds before they’re lips touched, he focused on the green eyes in front of him, and every cell in his body screamed NO. Not him. After that, the wanting stayed. It just settled itself where everything else in Kit seemed to be. In Ty.

The vines of your hands, your limbs The dark droplets of your hair are alive in my memory

Kit closed his eyes and tried to clear his head, to remember the now. To remember the Ty was a possibility, not a Ty that was a memory, and as soon as the thought placed itself in his mind, he shuttered. A possibility? Does it actually mean he misses him, even just a little bit? Nothing is not a little bit, Kit reminded himself. Nothing means he misses you, a lot.

But then, what did he do? What did he do to Ty?

Pure panic and regret were chasing one another in Kit’s chest and he needed Tessa’s arms around him so bad he felt as if his whole body was shutting down. Breath, he told himself. Breath in, and think of mom’s hands, think of Mina’s laugh. Black spots blurred his vision as the familiar numbness in his fingertips began to form. Breath, he commanded himself. Jem is just a room away. Remember the violin. And Kit did. He played in his head the soft music that lulled him to sleep in all of those nights in which he felt like he was seconds from falling apart, and just like that, the tight muscles in his back loosened. His heartbeat steadied, and the air settled itself between his lungs.

“Kit, are you here?” he heard Jem’s voice and turned hastily towards the door, schooling his features to calm indifference, not wanting his adoptive father to notice his distress.

“Yup, right here” he called just as Jem entered the library.

“I reckon we’re finally done.. What are you up to, all alone in here?” his eyes trailed after the heaps of paper on the floor.

“I was just chatting with Jessie.. she left right before you entered.”

“Really?” Jem’s eyebrows lifted slightly, “and how is our dear Jessamine today? lovely as ever, I presume..” Kit snorted loudly, “that surname does not suit her, I’ll say it again.. She was in a mood, as always..”

Jem’s eyes softened as he gazed at one of the tables in the middle of the room, piled with dusty, leather bound volumes, as if remembering a long ago Jessamine. Kit found it hard to believe that Jessie would have read a book out of her own volition, but stranger things had happened.

“Anyway, they are waiting for you in the training room, Kit. Are you ready?”

Kit piled the papers from the floor and shoved them in his duffle bag. He got up slowly, not meeting Jem’s eyes as he replied “as ready as I’ll ever be”.

The streets of London were colder than Kit had remembered for this time of year. He shivered violently and cursed his “Two layers, tops” policy. Ever since he moved to Devon, he had expressed his dismay with the weather by refusing to wear more than two layers of clothing, insisting it made him feel lumpy, and that it “wasn’t good in a potential fight”. In truth, he just liked to feel the weather as it was; the soft caress of the sun, when she bothered to show up, or the crisp, cool air in the early hours of morning, reserved only to him. At the moment, he was just wearing gear.

Another shiver went through him, but he kept his hood down and turned his face towards the foggy sky, as if looking for an answer in the distant horizon.

Kit had left the institute as soon as he was done with his test, if he could even call it a test. It was a fiasco. He felt his cheeks flaming bright red as he remembered the embarrassing moment in which Beatriz Mendoza, who was the New York institute’s tutor that came to test him every few months as a special favor to Jace, had scolded him for his lack of concentration that led him to almost chop off her head about three times. “What is the matter with you today, Herondale? It’s like you’re not even listening to a word I’m saying. I know what you can do, but you need to be able to show me. Do you understand?”.

The minute she let him go, Kit changed to his plain black gear, and headed out of the institute. Jem ha reluctantly let him go after he promised that he was “fine” and “just needed some fresh air”. He made him take his phone, though, and Kit was too flustered to even roll his eyes at him as he stormed out into the murky twilight.

He was careful with his thoughts now, remembering his reaction in the library and the near beheading of Beatriz Mendoza. He knew that he was on the very edge, and that it was not a good idea to go to pieces in the middle of London, especially since he wasn’t even glamoured.

Look at the facts, he told himself. Ty could have said anything to you, he could have said nothing. But he chose to tell you this, to you, the only person alive, ghosts aside, that knows what it means. And, he continued with renewed vigor, he made it so you can only decipher it if you remembered. It was a test, Kit understood, to see if he himself was worthy. No, not worthy.. If he was still the same Kit. Ty’s Kit. But… was he?

So much had changed in his life since he left LA. He missed Ty, of course he did. And not only him, he missed all of the Blackthorns. But he had a family now, a real one. With Jem and Tessa he got to experience something he never truly had, he was loved. Unconditionally, without a single expectation and with an infinite amount of patience.. which in his case, Kit knew, was not easy. And most importantly, Jem and Tessa gave him the opportunity to be a brother, and there was nothing in this world or any other, that Kit loved more than his baby sister.

Kit looked back at his short time with the Blackthorns with a frustration he couldn’t avoid. He needed their friendship and approval so much that he used every chance he got to impress them. He clung to Ty so blindly that he allowed himself to get along with a plan he knew in his heart would bring them pain. He was ashamed of that Kit, and he understood him. But who was he now?

The sky was bathed in a purplish tint, like a faded bruise on a pale skin, and the clouds huddled around his chest felt like the ominous sign of a storm. Kit felt a series of short vibrations in his left pocket and pulled out his cell phone to find five messages from Jem;

“The institute got a distress call -

There’s a demon attack in an old factory around Chester Rd -

They need backup -

Meet us there.”

Kit was surprised. He had just displayed one of the worst behaviour a shadowhunter could have, and they sent him as backup? The situation must bad enough for them to overlook his mediocre performance. He was a good fighter, he knew that. In the two years since he left LA and started training he had killed his fair share of demons. He knew his abilities were more than average, a fact Jace was reluctant to mention in his presence but bragged about when in front of Clary or Simon. Kit wasn’t sure who Jace wanted to impress more.

With an uneasy feeling in his stomach, he called an Uber and took his stele out, placed it’s tip on his skin and expected the comforting sting of power.

Kit stared in disbelief at the crumbling building, “What a dump! You’re telling me people actually work here? Don’t mundanes have labor unions nowadays?” He hissed and ran towards the heavy looking entrance door, drawing a seraph blade out of his belt.

The scene he entered was chaotic. Two dozen demons were huddled around three dark figures who Kit figured were the shadowhunters that called for help. The demon’s oily skin shimmered under the fiery streams that leapt out of where their eyes were supposed to be. Moloch demons, Kit realized, and started in their direction, when he heard a desperate cry from under his feet.

With a jolt of terror, he looked down and felt his breath hitch- there was a basement floor to that crappy old safety hazard of a building. And the Moloch demons must have gotten there from under the building.. it wasn’t completely dark outside. There are people in here, and they are trapped in the only place the demons could enter from.

Kit let out a flow of words Tessa would have paled to hear and scanned the floor until he found a rusty old metal trap door. He didn’t even try to open it with his hands, and yanked his stele out. He drew an opening rune and whispered “Lailah”, his seraph blade casting a soft glow on his face. He wrenched open the door, jumped into the darkness and landed lightly on his feet, something that ceased to amaze him.

Kit followed the increasing sound of panicked voices and found a group of seven men, bowed under a pile of Wooden beams that must have fallen from the collapsed ceiling. When he got near them, he saw they weren’t all men, some of them were young boys, even younger than him.

“Tell me this was a bring your ‘kid to work day’ got wrong” he told one of the younger boys as he shoved his seraph blade back to his belt and began pulling the massive boards off, one by one.

“No. I work here.” said the boy with a defiant look on his scrawny face. “I’m almost eighteen” he added to the look of dismay on Kit’s face.

“Sure you are” Kit said through gritted teeth as he pulled hard on a board that seemed stuck between two heavy rocks.

“A little help here, big boy?” the other boy gave him a reproachful glare but still helped, along with an elderly man who thanked Kit again and again for his help.

The man told him their group was about to finish the morning shift (they were actually trying to remodel this shithole into an office complex) when the entire left wall of the basement collapsed. They were trapped inside and all the while heard these weird noises from all around them, until they simply vanished without an answer to their calls for help. Kit thought they should be thankful the demons were too busy demolishing this fine property to hear them, or he would have found a heap of bodies rather than just a lawsuit for child abuse waiting to happen.

“That’s the last one”, Kit said and turned to the disheveled group of men that were looking at him with astonishment, taking in his age. He was about to say something about how age is just a number when you look like Thor’s younger, hotter brother, when the younger boy from before took a step forward. He was actually not that scrawny up front, and about Kit’s hight. He was dark skinned, his eyes a bright hazel with specks of green in them. He looked at Kit with open curiosity, and Kit was sure he was about to make a snarky comment when he said “Thank you”.

“Don’t mention it. Really, don’t. We gotta get you out of here quickly, and quietly.”

Kit signaled the group to follow him as he flung himself out of the trap door. He took a quick glance around him. More demons, which meant it was probably completely dark outside, but the three shadowhunters were still fighting them. Impressive, he thought. He was in the basement for less than ten minutes, but Moloch demons came in groups, and their greater demon boss sometimes followed. He had to get the mundanes out of there, fast.

Kit reached a hand to pull out the elderly man and whispered “Be very, very quiet. Now, is there another way out of here other than the death trap door in the front?”

The older man nodded and pointed at the far end of the room, to their left. Kit glanced quickly at the fighting shadowhunters, trying to assess if he could possibility could sneak the group out without the demons noticing, when a flash of black hair danced away from the spitting flames shot by a particularly large demon. Something in the back of Kit’s mind was trying to catch his attention, when suddenly the hazel eyed boy took his hand, making him focus on the pressing matter at hand.

“What the hell are these things?” he exclaimed with horror. Kit looked at him with surprise, could he see the demons?

“Never mind that. We need to get you out of here, ok? Hey, look at me. What’s your name?” he tried desperately to pull the boy’s attention out of the creatures whose existence he couldn’t even acknowledge. “It’s... Theo. I’m Theo”.

“I’m Kit. Now that we’re best mates I need you to do me a solid and take everyone with you to the back door, as quickly as you can. Alright Theo?” Kit willed him to understand the urgency of the situation and looked straight into his eyes until he gave him a hesitant nod in response.

Kit sighed in relief they made their way to the back door.

Most of the men were already out, when a distant scream broke the hushed silence -

“No! Stop him!”

And Kit’s heart froze. For that moment, he was on the edge of lake lynn again, hearing Ty crying out for his sister’s fading ghost to come back to him.

He didn’t feel the breath catch in his throat. He didn’t see the blood washing out of his face. He didn’t even see the slimy demon that was just a few feet away from him.

There was only Ty, a tall, pale streak of lightning that shot directly into Kit’s chest. He couldn’t make out his features, the marks that time had left upon him. He only knew that it was him, and somewhere in the deepest of Kit’s soul, something clicked into place. The needle of a compass, restlessly searching it’s way months on end, sharply pointed ahead... and in that very second, Ty’s silver flamed eyes met Kit’s.

#kit herondale #Ty Blackthorn #kitty #kitty blackdale #blackdale #heronthorn #kit x ty #tiberius blackthorn #tsc #the shadowhunter chronicles #jem carstairs #kitty fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #kit's secret fire message #poetry #herondale poetry

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fantasyizlife · 5 years

Text

For the fandoms/fans who mourn their idol/hero. ❤

Word count 1,444

I was moved to say something before I force myself to get back up and fight to enjoy race week again. So many men and women in the Formula family will do the same. 🏎❤🏁🥰

Dear anyone who feels the loss over a human being they idolized with love,

I can't help but to try and offer some type of hope while we forever mourn the death of of our idols. Our personal heroes. No matter who they are, how they died, how they lived, if we met them, if we never met them, if they didn't know we loved them or if they did...😔

So many of us are told by the very people we are closest to that we should just get over it! They say all the above, more or less. They try to "encourage us" by stating the obvious. You didn't know them. You'll be over it tomorrow. Sometimes they say nothing at all.

Perhaps you have people in your life that don't even know your suffering with such deep pain. We can't explain our tears, sadness, anger, loneliness or whatever were feeling and that is so much harder than being able to attend a funeral for our loss. At least we wouldn't have to hide the way we feel. They wouldn't ask us what our deal is. They wouldn't question why we feel the way we feel. We would be given a short window to openly grieve their death. Our loss. We might be given the shot at closure if this was the case. We could somehow feel we got to say goodbye!

I still mourn the death of my idol. My hero! This person saved me and still saves me this very moment as I try to write this painfully and hopefully helpful recognition for us fandoms/fans in real pain with our loss.

I spent whatever hours I could hidden away from the world. Buried in the hours of footage on YouTube or wherever. I listened to my hero's voice, laugh, seen my hero still ALIVE! I went through every social media platform that exists, desperate for just one more moment. It took a hard solid year before I even felt like healing.

For the longest time I was so mad at the world! My hero's death wasn't a graceful one so the coverage was cruel at times. That enraged me! The footage/pictures of their deaths are now so very public and that is hard to swallow. Even death certificates are made public! Like where is the humanity? I remember asking why hasn't the world stopped for one minute to see it's lost some of its brightest light?!?

Our heroes were more than entertainers, athletes, artists...they were what got us through. Gave us hope and love when we didn't have any. They helped us to escape for whatever time we had with them. They have grown over the years with us. Some we only knew a short time but their beautiful light was SO powerful it caught our attention in the fog of life. Some taught us lessons in strength and courage. Some showed us they survived the same hell we survived. Some guided us to grow physically or mentally. They ALWAYS offered us an escape when we needed it. Most of all they were there when we needed them. EVERY time we needed them...

So now what world? You want us to move on? You want us to accept their fate and take whoever or whatever you offer to replace them?

They gave us so much more than we can ever explain. Some of us didn't know any of this until they were gone and they can never be replaced! So leave us to heal the ONLY way we can!

Lastly to us, the fans. The ones who hold in our pain because we have no real way of saying goodbye to our heroes…..

I'm sorry for your loss. It's been over two years since I lost my hero and there are times when I have to say goodbye again and again because *"Sometimes you don't say goodbye once. You say goodbye over and over and OVER again. I get tackled by the grief at times that I would least expect." * Every year another birthday passes. The anniversary of their death comes. All of a sudden there's a surge of our heroes faces. Forcing us to remember the moment they were taken from our lives. And then there are times when it seems no one remembers them. Your left wondering if your the only fan left with a whole in your chest? And it's another ride on the emotional rollercoaster! I wish I could tell you that while moving forward you won't know pain like that again but I didn't write this to sugarcoat lies. The fact is you might coast through a memory and smile. You grow with the pain. It's another scar but you do keep pushing! You might find yourself in the middle of a completely different realm of happiness and experience yet another loss. One that triggers your heroes loss and that pain claws its way towards the surface to greet this new loss like it was meant to be friends all along and it's not fair to feel this pain again!

You can get through this loss and you don't have to be alone!

If you have friends with this hero in common or belong to a fandom that can share your pain, please reach out! When I lost my hero I found a person in my area who was brave enough to start a Facebook group of support by herself. I found my place to mourn my hero with a hashtag that lit the way. This support group has been my only outlet when I'm hurting the most for my hero. And when remembering my hero is too much I take a break. I drop by and leave my emotions or thoughts and I see the other fans who also loved this person doing the same and it truly helps. I guess it's a virtual memorial for us who will never forget. I can leave my honest feelings in a safe space and seek other social media outlets to lighten my spirit. It's just my way of moving forward from the days I didn't want to move at all. It's my way of honoring my hero.

The only good I can possibly think for having an idol/hero with wings is that you are not alone! Someone in this world feels what you are feeling and when your ready, I hope you can help each other.

Feel free to reach out to me. Feel free to reblog and add your hero for me to know because they matter and so do you!

Hugz from my broken soul to yours!

Who cares if one more light goes out? I do.

My personal hero is Chester Bennington of Linkin Park. 🌠

My heart is re-shattered from the loss we are feeling in Formula ones racing family 8/31/19.

My inspiration came across Spotify as I scrolled through Instagram, Twitter and tumblr feeling all of our pain. So many on tumblr are being honest about the way this loss has affected them and I wanted to reach out before a new race week starts and something inside of you won't feel right. 😔

Take your time. Come back to the race family when your ready. Take a walk with some music in your ears to let out the feels. Take care of you!

Rest in Paradise to all our heroes. 🌠

One More Light

Song by Linkin Park

Should've stayed, were there signs, I ignored?

Can I help you, not to hurt, anymore?

We saw brilliance, when the world, was asleep

There are things that we can have, but can't keep

If they say

Who cares if one more light goes out?

In a sky of a million stars

It flickers, flickers

Who cares when someone's time runs out?

If a moment is all we are

We're quicker, quicker

Who cares if one more light goes out?

Well I do

The reminders pull the floor from your feet

In the kitchen, one more chair than you need oh

And you're angry, and you should be, it's not fair

Just 'cause you can't see it, doesn't mean it, isn't there

If they say

Who cares if one more light goes out?

In a sky of a million stars

It flickers, flickers

Who cares when someone's time runs out?

If a moment is all we are

We're quicker, quicker

Who cares if one more light goes out?

Well I do

Who cares if one more light goes out?

In a sky of a million stars

It flickers, flickers

Who cares when someone's time runs out?

If a moment is all we are

We're quicker, quicker

Who cares if one more light goes out?

Well I do!

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isabellachristinablog · 5 years

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Post one: the Long Journey Living in Hospitals

I recently stumbled upon this writing in my notes on my phone. Although reading this brought back the awful memories of what my family had to go through, the ending reminded me of why we all fought so hard. My mom, my sister (Allie), and I were by my fathers bedside every single day. Nights like this one constantly make me grateful for those moments with him. I wish more than anything I could see my dads beautiful blue eyes just one more time.

_______________________________________________

Life, such a simple word yet its meaning beholds more power than any human can grasp nor be aware of. Life is so precious, we wake up each day constantly worrying about the little things like what grade we will receive on an exam or whether or not we will be on our boss’s good side for the day. We are so single minded on the little things that we are constantly forgetting about the big picture in life.

Dealing with cancer in my family allowed me to truly form my own definition of the word ‘life.’ My dad was diagnosed my junior year of high school (2014) with a rare bone cancer called Chondrosarcoma. Ever since, my family has been riding waves. The rough waves that come crashing down before you, taking you with them making you feel as if you've lost control; but also the ones that guide you slowly allowing for that much needed breath of fresh air. I have found myself holding on so tightly trying to fight these waves, but in reality, they continue to hold power over me. I have tried so hard to train my mind to wake up each day and only hold positive thoughts, but have learned that this does not work the way I had hoped.

Things really began to take a turn for the worst when my father was at home one weekend in December of 2017 and began struggling with his breaths. With a snow storm coming (he always chooses these to act up during) we took him to the hospital. Little did we know what we were about to get ourselves into. After days of struggling for breath from a diagnosed pneumonia as well as slight heart problems, we were told my father would have to get intubated. “Intubated?” I thought, “what even is that?” With a doctor a little too blunt for my heart to handle, I found myself weak at the knees, trying to picture myself getting through this battle. After pinky promising that we would see him again soon we left my father, scared as can be. We waited in the sitting area as far away from those icu doors as possible. As we sat there tears fluttering from our eyes, a friend brought us a gift (keep in mind they had no idea what we were experiencing). They began to explain how they bought my father a Christmas gift but “it just couldn’t wait.”

Every year my family and our friends participate in a walk for people with my father's cancer. This past year, our motto was “not all heroes wear capes” and of course my superhero refused to sit once. He even offered his wheelchair to a woman in need of one, because that’s the kind of man he is.

So, as we sat in that waiting room and began to open his gift, we found a Superman cape. Prior to this moment I began to lose all faith. I felt helpless, as if I was drowning and nothing could save me. But all of a sudden, I felt my faith again. I looked at my sister and said “Allie stop crying, I know everything will be okay” and I was right. After weeks in the icu, my Mom’s eight notebooks full of health notes, an 80th birthday celebration for my Poppop in the waiting room, and weeks at a rehabilitation center where my superman pushed himself unmeasurable amounts wowing everyone, my father was finally home again. He was eating his favorite Rita’s water ice, asking me for Wawa icees, and of course his *lays* barbecue chips, and things began to feel okay again.

All of a sudden within the blink of an eye, my world was flipped upside down once again on March 5, 2018, even worse this time. It was on a Monday, and it was happening again. The same breathing problems, and we were frightened. My father looked me in the eyes and said he was scared and I repeated over and over again “just because it happened once doesn’t mean it will happen every time you go into a hospital” I said it with such confidence, but I was wrong.

After finally deciding to ambulance him back to Chester county hospital, we realized we had ended up right back where we started. After days of my father eating tons and laughing lots, I got the call the day of another snow storm. As Allie said the word intubation, I sank. The same way I did that day on December 14, 2017. Feeling hopeless, I got in the car and stayed on the phone with my sister the whole time panicking and trying my best to pray and stay calm. I was scared. It happened again, same doctor and all, but this time even worse because we did not know the cause. When The doctors kept saying the words “stiff lungs” I knew it was worse than the first time. We slept at the hospital that night and woke up with the intention of helicoptering him to Penn Presbyterian in Philadelphia because they specialize in pulmonary. We arrived around four o’clock and my world came crashing down. We were told that my father could not be placed on the machine that was “the next step” from the tube he had in, and we were also told he may not make it through the night. Our whole family began arriving slowly, cousins, friends, family; and my nerves began to take over my whole body. I tried to picture a life without my heart of gold father and felt as if my world was stopping. In that moment I wanted to switch places with him and wished I could go to sleep and just never wake up.

We stayed in the room all night without sleeping once. At three am, he began having heart problems and needed to be shocked. We thought this was the end. I was envisioning my reaction for when the doctor came in, forcing me to face my biggest fear. I was heartbroken, but in a way, I felt God there with me too. I knew if he had passed, it was because God needed him. The doctor came in with words I never imagined hearing, “he is doing okay.” I’ve never cried so hard, I knew this was when my fathers superhero strength was kicking in and he was ready to put up another fight.

It’s been exactly a week since that day and my father is awake for the first time. He is doing so well they lowered his sedation and paralytic medicines so he is squeezing my hand and showing off those beautiful blue eyes that I never thought I’d see again. He is proving to us once again that he can do this, he can do anything. He is incredible. We are staying here for our ninth night in a hospital, but this time it’s because we are so happy. We do not know what the future holds, but for right now, my heart could not be more full and I never want this night to end.

Although one of the toughest things a 20 year old could be forced to face, my situation emphasizes who I am as a person.

My father, the holiest man I know has taught me to be strong, hopeful, faithful, and to love with all that I have in me. If anyone could conquer this situation, it’s him. He is the type of man who is grateful this happened to him so it wasn’t happening to a younger man. He is the most brilliant man I know , and has a heart unlike anyone else. He can win this battle, and he will.

I have learned that my mother is the strongest woman I have ever met. She has not left my fathers bedside once, she stays calm, and is our fearless leader. She does anything and everything she can to fight for the love of her life. She is brilliant (could become a doctor with all of the information she is filled with), loving, beautiful, and beyond strong. Without her, I would be lost. My mother and father’s love is never ending, it's more powerful than the movies, and it will last forever.

To my sister, it’s okay to not be okay. It’s okay to cry, to be upset, and it’s even okay to smile when everything is crashing down. You have been my rock. You are the only one who truly knows what our situation feels like, and you give me advice I could never come up with on my own. We have each other, and that’s all we need. I love you Allie, thank you for teaching me how to love, to stay strong, and for making me realize I am allowed to feel weak. You are my biggest role model and my first best friend.

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defiantscribe · 7 years

Text

Hang in there, Baby

You may be wondering what this post is going to be about. Well, let's take a magical, cynical journey into some recent events.

Now, the title of this blog post is tasteless, given the subject matter, however I feel that what has happened is tasteless. I'm here to talk about the very recent suicide of Chester Bennington and Chris Cornell. See? Tasteless.

I was at work today when I happened upon the news of the Linkin Park singer taking his own life this morning. It was shocking, to say the least, because it came out of nowhere and didn't seem to have any events (from my understanding) leading up to his choice to take his own life. I was shocked, but more so I was mad.

Why? Well, he left behind 6 kids. As a father myself, I couldn't even fathom doing something like that to my children. I may be miserable, but leave the last thing my children would ever know about me being that I couldn't handle life and decided to hang myself because "reasons" just doesn't cut the shit with me.

If you haven't guessed by now, I'm one of those people who would call those who commit suicide to be "selfish". Now, before we all get triggered and start some sort of non-existent flame war, let me explain WHY I take this stance.

I've suffered from depression for years and there was a small period of time in my teenage years where I did think about killing myself. I wasn't attractive (still not in my own mind), I was the 'dirty kid', I had no hope of ever landing a girlfriend, I was a piece of human trash and what was the point of me hanging around when all I would ever amount to is being a drain on society?

I even tried to reach out for help to my own mother. One day I was REALLY down and I sat on top of our dishwasher (you have to move it to use it) and told my mom that I thought I was depressed and really wanted to go see a doctor about it. I even cried in front of her, I never cried. Her response? She ignored me. Little did I know that my mother was suffering from depression as well (un-medicated, but medicated now). But the simple fact that the ultimate authority in my life at that period of my life straight up ignored my cry for help cut, deep. It almost cemented my feelings that if I disappeared from existence that no one would care, no one would give a fuck. I'd just be another dead body in the ground and the world would keep on spinning, same as it ever was.

There was one night I had carpet cutting blades, sitting in my dark room, crying, debating doing this. I was about to get down to business and press them into my arms when I stopped for just a SPLIT second and stepped outside myself and looked at what I was doing. I got confused. Why was I doing this? Was this really worth taking my own life over? I've been shit on my entire life, what else is new? But does that mean I should end my life because I'm super sad right now?

I put the blade down, smoked a cigarette inside my house (my parents were smokers, but it was all done outside, so a cigarette in the house made a hell of a stink) and just breathed. I came away from that dark situation and never went down that road again.

Does that mean I don't think about how much easier my life would be if I killed myself? Hell no, I fucking think about that shit DAILY. Does that mean I'm going to do it? No, it doesn't. I have too much these days to live for and too many hearts I would break if I decided to do something like that. I have no love for myself, but I know others do have love for me and if I did something as selfish as take my own life, I wouldn't be releasing myself from my sadness, I'd only be causing more sadness for those I truly care about and it would be my fault, no one else's. And that would be the last thought going through my head. Not, "Yay, I'm free!", it'd be, "My poor children, my wife, what have I done?!"

I'm not here to minimize depression in any way, I've seen what that shit does to people first hand. I won't elaborate because it's not my place to share those experiences, even if I was involved in being there when they happened. That's personal stuff that stays with me because I choose so. And a level of respect for those who suffered through it. I even saw a quote off Reddit that put a lot of it into perspective, I could very easily see what someone suffering from severe, crippling depression feels like:

I get this, I really do, but that second comment? "Shame or guilt people into staying alive"?! Am I suppose to cheer them on while they throw an electronic into the tub with them? Say a Huzzah while they slit their wrists? Give a high five as they pull the trigger? Are you fucking mental?! People aren't shaming or guilting people, they're attempting to show them love. They don't want that person they like or love to do something that you can't undo. I've always described suicide as a permanent solution to a temporary problem. That's how I see it. Having danced that dance, I will share with you all the things I would have missed out on if I took my life that night I had those blades touching my skin:

I would have never met my wife, I would have never lived in a major US city, I would never have had sex, I would never have had a legal beer, I would never have met 2 of my best friends in the entire world, I would never have owned a home, owned a car, had children, known what it meant to be a Dad, never would have gone to an actual amusement park, gone to Vegas and gambled, experienced life.

This is only a small portion of what I would have missed out on if I had decided to take my own life due to my sadness. Again, I'm not attempting to minimize anyone’s feelings toward suicide, but is what's bothering you really something that will matter in the grand scheme? When I was in high school I took a class, I don't remember what the class was but I met a friend in that class. But we were talking about some book and the teacher posed a question that's always stuck with me to put things into perspective:

It might matter today, but will it matter in 100 years?

I've often been one to make a mole hill into Everest, but if I'm freaking out, I ask myself that question and think of the possible answer. Usually the answer is, "no, that shit won't mean jack dick" and it helps me let go of whatever is bothering me.

Bottom line to this whole mess of a post is this: If you're feeling down, feeling bad, feeling trapped: Talk to someone. There is someone in your life that cares. Be it a friend, a spouse, a parent, a co-worker; there is always someone who gives a damn. Someone DOES care about you. Even if it's a fucking parole officer, someone is thinking about you and cares how you feel. Don't think you're burdening others by dumping your feelings out. And if any asshole says that, they're not worth your time and attention.

Talk. Don't bottle. There's so much more to life than just the shitty moment you're experiencing right that second. Live for you, live for them, live because the world expects you to buckle. That's why I picked the handle I did. Defiant. My whole mantra in life is, "Oh yeah, fucking watch me..." You tell me I can't, I will show you I can just to be spiteful. As long as it's not hurting myself or those I love. But even then, I've had to prove those I love wrong too.

The take away from all this: You are not the only one to ever feel these types of feelings, but they aren't good or healthy, they're dangerous. Ask for help. It takes a bigger man to ask for help then to ignore what you clearly know is a problem.

I'm not providing any links to anything, google that shit if you need it. You're worthwhile.

#linkinpark suicide love selfish soundgarden

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