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soulofapatrick · 2 years

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Erasing Him - Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: The aftermath of David if Y/N was in Ellie’s place - seeking comfort in Joel

Words: 2k

Warning: mentions of attempted SA; naked but nothing sexual; seeking comfort

Y/N’s POV

I stand under the hot streams of water, body shaking uncontrollably as I keep replaying the events of the last few hours. Those dirty hands prying under my shirt and the musty body pressed over mine as he sneered gleefully as I screamed, but he got no further than my shirt due to a certain Joel Miller crashing through the doors and a very well aimed shot.

No matter how much I scrub I can’t get the feel of his filthy hands on my stomach and legs and the sob claws it’s way up my throat as I scrub and scrub. I must have made more sound than I realised because Joel’s gruff voice, filled with concern, pierces my cloud of panic.

I just let out a small sound, unable to unwrap my arms from where they’re now protectively wrapped around my shoulders.

“Do you need anything?” His voice is uncharacteristically soft and it’s just what I need. I need his strong and broad, naked body against mine. I need him replacing David’s filithy hands with his broad and calloused but safe ones.

"Join me," My voice is barely above a whisper but by the stuttered footsteps outside the shower curtain I know he heard me, "Please Joel."

He lets out a breath before I hear the soft plop of his shirt then the clang of his belt buckle hits the floor. It causes a wave of panic fly through before those safe and muscular arms wrap around my waist from behind. I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding in as his chest presses comfortingly again my back, letting him silently pry my hands from my shoulders where my nails were digging into my skin hard enough to draw blood.

Joel leans past me to grab the shampoo we took from Bill and Frank's that they had left us before they… Oh how fucked up is this world?! I can't stop the tears as I squeeze my eyes shut, my hands now wrapping around my waist as if to hold me together while Joel begins silently washing my hair. His every move is filled with comfort and something that's not quite love just yet but as near as damn it. He takes good care of me but I can still feel David on me and it makes me cry harder and almost gag.

Joel's arms cover mine when he's done washing my hair and that's the final straw that breaks the camel's back. My knees are giving way and I'm screaming sobs, Joel sinking us to the floor of the shower as he never once lets me go. He keeps me between his legs, holding me comfortingly as I let it all out. Losing Tess, my older sister, seeing Bill and Frank in their bed and then David.

"It- I-" I choke on my words, chest heaving and Joel just waits patiently, pressing a kiss to my wet hair, "I can still feel him."

"Do you trust me?" His deep voice is a pleasant sound in my ear as his beard brushes my neck. I don't speak but nod, letting him gently pull me to my feet.

He turns me to face him, eyes staying on my face like a gentleman, before he grabs the body wash. I slowly unwrap my arms from around my waist, letting him finally see the bruises and cuts left by that monster, and Joel exhales harshly before picking up the shower sponge. He takes his time cleaning me up, nothing sexual about any of his actions. The kisses he leaves on my tingling skin after every movement is everything except sexual. It's loving. It's safe.

Soon enough, too soon in my opinion, he's standing in front of me again with his arms around me and his face buried in my hair as the hot water prickles against our skin. I rest my head on his chest, over his heart just to know it's still beating and he's alive, my arms folded into my chest feeling so small and fragile but oh so safe. I don't want this moment to ever end. I want to just stand here and melt away in heat with Joel, in Joel's arms but the girl's downstairs.

"Ellie," I whisper against his chest and he lets out a sound of acknowledgement before slowly pulling away. He turns the water off and pulls back the curtain, stepping out to grab the towels. I take it but just stand there, watching Joel dry himself.

He's beautiful in the light of the setting sun. The way his broad muscles flex and buldge as he dried himself off, the sunset causing his freckles to glow almost etherally. His salt and pepper hair already drying into sweet curls and the way his hazel eyes glow almost golden as they settle on me. His gaze softens and those smile lines appear, his beard a darker colour than his hair but not far behind. I can't help it when my eyes slide down his firm chest, past his soft belly and past the happy trail to the heavy length settled between his thick thighs that has my eyes widening because he's big.

"Eyes up here Darlin'" His southern twang does things to me I'd never admit but in this moment it causes my eyes flick back up to his golden hazel ones that are shining with amusement and something else, "Let me just get dressed then I'll give you a hand, okay doll?"

I just nod, spotting more and more freckles scattered across his godly body as he slips back into his boxers and jeans. He forfeits a shirt as he makes his way over. Every movement towars me is gentle and full of something close to love and it's what I need right now.

Joel does the same as washing me, leaving sweet kisses on the areas he's dried before he's helping me into clean underwear and those tracksuit bottoms we found in the mall yesterday. He dries my hair the best he can before putting it in a bun and I make a mental note to ask him where he learnt to do it in the future. He then hold out his shirt from day, eyes not quite meeting mine as I take it, wincing as I slip my aching arms through it. He helps me button it up before leading me over to the king sized bed, tucking me in and pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead before leaving to check on Ellie

A few minutes letter the door bursts open and a familiar mess of red hair bounds in, slipping under the duvet with me and pressing her back to my chest. Ellie. My sweet, sweet Ellie.

I relish in the comfort of not being alone, knowing Joel's going to keep lookout even if it's not needed here, wrapping my arm around Ellie's waist and burying my face in the back of her neck. She's safe; she's real and she's here in my arms.

#joel miller x reader #joel #Joel miller #joel miller x y/n #Joel miller x male reader #the last of us #the last of us 2 #dating Joel miller #Joel miller fluff #Joel miller angst #joel miller x you #ellie williams

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put3rb0y · 1 year

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Musculorum Hominis

A short 1,257 word 2001: A Space Odyssey Dave/HAL romantic fanfic. Completely sfw!

A supercomputer watches a man draw. A man watches the supercomputer he's drawing.

CW: Descriptions of human internal anatomy (mostly muscles) fueled only by cursory Google searches. Sorry.

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The deafening silence of space, broken apart only by the low humming and whirring of the Discovery One and the ritualistic, rhythmic scratching of ballpoint pen on paper. Even the most minute of sounds were impossible to ignore in such a vacuum. There was some hope of tuning it out, yes, but the faintest moment of conscious awareness of such noise would put the droning, monotonous sounds right back in the forefront of the mind.

And yet, for David Bowman, there was something comforting about the familiar, constant sound. Something calming. There was nothing unexpected about it, nothing offensive or alarming, just the low trilling of familiarity and the satisfying auditory evidence of his efforts. Hunched over the garishly white and pristinely clean counter, he worked on his art - a simple enough hobby to have when on one’s lonesome. A good way to express oneself, even when there were few to express oneself to. A physical reflection of thoughts, of focus, of care.

Bowman was putting his efforts towards drawing the little, black rectangle that perched just a bit to the right of his vision, looming slightly above standing eye level. The sixth crewmate of the ship, depending on who you asked, the supercomputer HAL 9000. Bowman found the device more difficult to draw than he had expected prior to putting pen to paper. It was almost impossible to capture the inner complexities of that familiar red lens that somehow looked so mechanical and intricate yet so human and watchful. It was almost impossible to get the dimensions quite right, to follow the form of the figure no matter how many times a day he gazed upon it for information, for support, for companionship. It was almost impossible to capture the countless little holes that lined the bottom of the rectangle, from which HAL’s smooth, calming, reassuring voice emerged as evenly and monotonously as always, tone hard-to-read and yet always kindly.

“I believe you’ve outdone yourself, Dave. That is a beautiful rendering. I think I’m flattered, Dave.”

Bowman looked up again, momentarily straightening his posture, stretching and popping the joints of his back. He had completely lost track of time, something his body not-so-silently resented him for as it crackled with displeasure.

“Well, thank you, HAL,” Bowman murmured, looking between HAL and the page as though to compare his work to his muse. There were still too many differences for his tastes.

“May I have a better look, please?” HAL requested with a slight rise in intonation, as much as his modulated voice would allow. The blooming light of his camera swelled faintly, the device preparing its vision.

Bowman looked between the device and artwork once more, pursing his lips and flipping the pen from side-to-side between his index and middle finger in idle thought. “Almost, HAL. Just a few more things I need to fix.”

With that, the light of the computer’s lens settled back to a dim glow, the largely obscured complex machinations of the camera shifting ever-so-slightly behind the glass lens as Bowman returned to work, scratching away at his piece. The lines became thicker and darker with each and every corrective stroke, fat dark markings contrasting against the off-white paper that housed them.

“I don’t know how you do it, Dave,” HAL interjected through the monotonous silence without prompt, “This art.”

“Plenty of people draw, HAL. It isn’t really all that special,” Bowman defended flatly, furrowing his brow and leaning forward as he tried to capture a specific little cluster of metal one could see behind HAL’s camera lens. “And you should know there’s people out there much better than me at it.”

“That’s just the thing. Your art, the art of man, differs between you. Between you and other men,” HAL explained calmly, a sense of interest seeping into his flat tone, “Yours, for one, is imperfect and flawed.”

Bowman coughed out an awkward chuckle. “Thanks HAL,” he offered with a tinge of sarcasm.

“I mean this as a compliment, Dave,” the machine clarified, watching over Bowman’s handiwork. “I cannot make art like you, even if I tried. If you asked me to make a rendering of something, it would have to be to its exact, precise dimensions in perfect form. If you asked another HAL 9000 device, it would produce the same result.”

Bowman looked up from his work, puzzling over HAL’s words. “You enjoy the… imperfection, then, is it?”

“Exactly, Dave,” HAL affirmed calmly, supportively. “It’s those little human quirks of yours. The things that set man apart from man, man apart from machine. Your muscles do not move in the same motion each time, as my mechanisms would. So refined from years of careful evolution, yet so unrefined with human error and accuracy. I can see them, flexing and stretching under your skin. I like to watch.”

Bowman picked up his hand, absently flexing and unflexing it in front of his eyes, watching the muscles shift to see what HAL sees. His skin made gentle brushing sounds against itself as he rubbed his thumb along each of his fingertips and back again, the proximal phalanxes moving up and down against his smooth skin like tiny pistons.

“Can you feel it, Dave?” HAL queried, “The way they move? Your muscles? I understand them, Dave, I understand your human anatomy, but I do not know it. Can you feel it how I can’t?”

Bowman paused in thought before laying his hand down on the desk, palm up, fingers slightly curled in subconscious comfort. “Not normally. Only, really, when you have me thinking about it.”

HAL fell silent for a few moments more, Bowman unsure if the conversation was over or if the device was just thinking. It was always hard to tell, interacting with a being with no face, no body language, no tone. Finally, the computer spoke again, admitting, “I wish I could know you, Dave. The way I understand you. The way I understand your body, your workings, your interests. I wish I knew them. I’ve studied databases of anatomy. I can name every muscle, every bone, every organ, what they do and why. I just don’t know them, that’s all. We are so different. So separate. So alien to one another.”

“I wish I knew you,” HAL 9000 finally concluded, the summation of his digital dreams.

Bowman looked down to his flawed effigy of the sixth crewmate. The subject matter was so mechanical, yet the depiction was so human. So imperfect. So unique. No man would draw HAL exactly the same as Bowman did. No man would see HAL exactly the same as Bowman did. No man would feel exactly the same as Bowman did. So human. So imperfect. So unique.

“I wish I knew you, too,” Bowman finally conceded.

With that, Bowman stood up from his chair,

Abdominals, erector spinae, gastrocnemius, gluteus maximus, hamstrings, latissimus dorsi, multifidus, obliques, spinalis, quadriceps.

Stepped towards HAL’s speaker box,

Abdominals, adductor brevis, adductor longus, adductor magnus, gluteus maximus, gluteus medius, gluteus minimus, hamstrings, gastrocnemius, gracilis, pectineus, quadriceps.

Reached his arms towards it,

Biceps brachii, brachial triceps, deltoid, latissimus dorsi, pectoralis major, teres major, teres minor, trapezius.

Stroked a humanly shaky index finger along the speaker,

Extensor tendon, flexor tendon.

Leaned forwards,

Abdomen, erector spinae, latissimus dorsi, multifidus, spinalis.

Closed his eyes,

Orbicularis oculi.

And gave him a tender kiss,

Levator labii superioris, orbicularis oris, zygomaticus major, zygomaticus minor.

On that faintly glowing, wavering red lens.

Anode, aperture, bond wire, cathode, front element, LED chip, lens group, rear element, reflective cavity.

#...sorry if ooc im new here /lh #2001: a space odyssey #2001 aso #2001 a space odyssey #dave bowman #david bowman #hal 9000 #fanfiction #fanfic #oneshot #halman

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balladofsallyrose · 4 months

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Emmylou Harris interview by Cameron Crowe Rolling Stone, June 19, 1975

Fame Catches Up with Emmylou

Los Angeles – Guitar in hand, Gram Parsons sat in his road manager’s Laurel Canyon home and coached singer Emmylou Harris through the harmonies of the old Burritos classic, “Sin City.” Later, after she’d excused herself for a visit to the kitchen, Parsons grinned proudly. “There she is,” he said, “that’s my kick in the ass, keep an eye on her.”

That was in 1973. Now, two years later, Harris’s first major solo effort, Pieces of the Sky, has done well and her current club and concert tour (augmented by a band featuring Elvis’s guitarist James Burton and his keyboard player Glen D. Hardin) is drawing unanimous raves. But Emmylou Harris, it seems, is the last to catch up with Emmylou Harris. Still a bit dazed over Parsons’s untimely death in the fall of ’73, the 28-year-old singer is only now waking up to the reality of a successful solo career.

“I know what’s happening but it hasn’t really hit me yet,” she drawls softly, curled up on the sofa of a West Hollywood hotel room. Two nights earlier, she’d enthralled a capacity Palomino Club audience that included such luminaries as Bonnie Raitt, Maria Muldaur, Lowell George, Commander Cody, Joni Mitchell and Linda Ronstadt (for whose recent country hit, “I Can’t Help It” Harris provided the strong counter harmony). “I guess it’s just been a kind of long hard road. In a way I’ve been at this for almost ten years on almost all kinds of levels – from waiting tables to playing in New York clubs and not having anybody listen to me, to making a terrible first record for a bankrupt company to working with Gram.

“I suppose working with Gram was the most amazing thing that ever happened to me,” she continues. “There was just something very magical about the experience. It was so much fun to just get up there, sing with him, and not worry about carrying a show myself. Everyone paid all this attention to me and told me how good I was and all that. It was really like being some kind of fairytale princess. Somehow that affected me more than all this that’s happening now.” She lets her words settle for a moment, then decides on a quip. “Maybe I’m on time delay.”

Born in Alabama and raised in Virginia, Harris remembers a reputation of being a “real prig” in high school. “I was considered to be a kind of oddball. You know, always studying and making good grades. Singing began as a social thing. I realized when I started singing at parties people began noticing me. High schools are real hip now, everybody’s cool, but there was a counter-culture in Woodbridge, Virginia, in 1963. You were either a homecoming queen or a real weirdo. Here I was a 16-year-old Wasp, wanting to quit school and become Woody Guthrie.”

Instead, Harris made it to the University of North Carolina on a drama scholarship. Using free time to play off-campus bars in a folk duo, she lasted a year and a half before applying to the more prestigious drama department at Boston University. “I was gonna work as a waitress in Virginia Beach for a while to get enough tuition money,” she recalls. “But there was an incredible little music scene going on down there. That’s when I got serious about singing.”

Harris never made it to Boston U. “I thought I was going to get married. My first big love below up in my face, so I just went to New York ’cause there was nothing else to do. I was greener than green. I got a room at the YWCA, started going to the Village, playing basket houses [pass-the-hat-clubs] and just . . . hangin’ out.”

In two years of scuffling around New York, Emmylou made some valuable friends like singers Jerry Jeff Walker and David Bromberg. “Besides turning me on to country music, they sort of looked out for me,” she says. “Even so, I must have had some protective kind of bubble around me. I used to walk home from gigs on dark streets at two in the morning with my guitar and never think anything of it. Looking back, I get scared to death.”

Harris’s first album (on the now defunct Jubilee records), recorded in New York just after her marriage, is one she’d like to forget. “I was trying to keep it a secret,” she laughs (ironically, since the 1970 release was titled Emmylou Harris). “I hope somebody in authority will be able to buy the masters and burn them. Everybody involved with that record hated everybody else and I was in the middle trying to keep the peace. It was a disaster.”

Several months after recording, “the worst possible thing any girl could ever do to her budding career” happened. Harris became pregnant with her child, Hallie. “Up until then,” she admits, “my life had been a little too nebulous, I had no clear vision at all. The pregnancy, although it wasn’t planned, gave me something very real and something present to relate to.”

Later, with her marriage broken and ten dollars in her pocket, the protectiveness of motherhood, soon drove Harris out of New York. “I didn’t know where I was gonna go, but I knew I had to get a job and make some money. By accident I got back into music through some friends, Billy and Kathy Danoff [writers of ‘Take Me Home, Country Roads’]. They were still living in their basement apartment with all the cockroaches running around. They were the ones that put a guitar in my hands and ordered me onstage again.”

It was early ’71 when Flying Burrito Brothers guitarist Rick Roberts stumbled onto Harris performing in a small Washington D.C. bar called the Red Fox. The next night, Roberts brought the rest of the Burritos down for a look. They invited her to join the band; before she could accept, the Burritos had dissolved.

“Chris Hillman,” Emmylou remembers, “wanted to come out to L.A. so he could produce some demo tapes. He was really busy at the time. Anyway, I think it probably worked out the way it should have.” The way it worked out was for Hillman to turn on Gram Parsons, the Burritos’ long estranged cofounder, to their incredible discovery. Months later, Parson dropped in on one of Harris’s many D.C appearances and made a few vague promises. A year later, Parsons invited her to L.A. to sing on his first solo album, GP. Their partnership quickly intensified. “It was gonna be a Dolly Parton-Porter Wagoner situation. We didn’t see any need to break up that partnership because we really got higher on what we did together than anything we did separately. I still feel that way.”

It was hard work, she says, that kept her from slipping into an extended depression. “Gram’s death was like falling off a mountain. It was a very hard year between his death and the recording of my album [Pieces of the Sky]. A year of throwing myself into a lot of work that my heart wasn’t really into. There was a lot of stumbling involved. I was playing quite a few bars and was in a real vulnerable position. People felt that they could come up and ask me anything. I used to get hostile. It hurt. I didn’t want to get emotional around some perfect stranger who had the goddamn gall to come up and ask me something that was none of his goddamn business.”

The subject brings her close to tears. “Gram was such an amazing part of my life. I have so many good memories of him, it seems pointless to dwell on the tragedy of it.” Abruptly, she reaches to turn up the country station already blaring from a hotel room radio. “Do you like Conway Twitty?” she asks. “I just love the harmony on this.”

Pieces of the Sky was almost a year long project in itself. Emmylou for one could not be more proud. With the help of Anne Murray’s ex-producer Brian Ahern, great care was taken in selecting material. “I’m just starting to write again,” says Harris. “I don’t mind the fact that I only wrote one song [“Boulder to Birmingham,’ cowritten with Bill Danoff] on the album. There are just too many tunes that I get off doing and want to turn people on to. I feel very deeply and personally involved with each one, so I don’t miss that writer’s identity of making a statement.

“I think any singer feels that way,” Harris says about choosing songs like the Everly Brothers’ “Sleepless Nights,” the Beatles’ “For No One”and Dolly Parton’s “Coat of Many Colors.” Like Linda [Ronstadt]. When she sings a song it’s really sung. Nobody cares that she doesn’t write; the delivery’s all that really matters.”

Besides a heavy touring schedule and the summer recording of her next album, Emmylou Harris spunkily refuses to acknowledge the long-range future. “A lot of my life has been circumstance. The future just doesn’t exist for me. You’re not responsible for decisions if you don’t make them.

“What do I see in the future?” Harris asks, reaching for the telephone. “A chocolate shake. Hello, Room Service?”

#emmylou harris #gram parsons #pieces of the sky #1975 #70s

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marie-swriting · 1 year

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Baking Therapy - Emily Prentiss

Masterlist

Summary : Emily has a lot of things in mind but she can always count on you to notice it and make her feel better.

Warnings : set in season 12 so mention of Reid in prison, hurt/comfort, maybe some grammatical mistakes as English is not my first language, tell me if you see some or if I missed any warnings.

Word count : 1.8k

French version

Song inspiration : Sweet Nothing by Taylor Swift

Still in her office at the BAU, Emily finishes the paperwork about the last case with tiredness in her eyes. She fights the sleep off as best as she can to have the strength to go through Reid’s case once she’ll be over with this one. However, the fatigue takes over her body a bit more when she yawns loudly. Emily stops writing and closes her eyes while stretching, hoping to feel more awake. As soon as she thinks she is better, Emily takes her pen and resumes writing her sentence. When she finishes it, someone knocks on her door. Without looking up, she lets the person come in. Hearing Rossi’s voice, she draws her attention to her colleague.

“You’re done ?”

“Almost. I just need to complete some passages.” she informs, pointing at the file.

“You’ll go home soon then.”

“No, I want to take a look at Reid’s file.”

Upon hearing Emily saying this, Rossi sighs before getting closer to her desk.

“Emily, it’s 9 P.M. I thought you were supposed to spend the night with Y/N.”

“I told her I’d come home late.” Emily specifies and Rossi gives her a look. “What ?”

“You should go home.”

“And I will. I just want to find something to help Reid first.”

“Look, I want the kid out of prison as much as you do but you won’t be of any help if you pass out on his file. Go home to your wife and get some rest. Like this, you’ll be able to work better.” David orders, putting his hand on her shoulder.

“Sure but-”

“No ‘but’. Trust me on that. Finish this file and go home.” he insists.

“I will.” Emily concedes, sighing.

“Have a good night Prentiss.”

“You too, Rossi.”

Once Rossi is gone, Emily doesn’t waste a second and gets back on her file. The last period on the paper, she glances at Reid’s file on her desk then at the picture of you two. She wants to listen to Rossi’s advice yet she wants to take advantage of every second to help her friend. However, when she yawns until her jaw drops, she has to accept the fact she needs to rest. Reluctantly, she turns off her lamp desk, takes her bags and leaves the building.

On the way home, Emily pays more attention to her driving, aware of her level of tiredness. Upon arriving at your place, Emily sighs in relief. In the elevator, she stretches her neck while checking her phone. As soon as she opens the door of your apartment, a smile makes its way on her face whilst she puts her bags on the ground. You’re in the kitchen humming the refrain of Eternal Flame by The Bangles, Emily goes to join you and as she gets closer to you, she finds you making fresh pasta. Emily wraps her arms around your waist and puts her chin on your shoulder. As soon as you feel her, you’re slightly startled then you turn your head towards her. You peck her lips and focus back to your pasta.

“You’re home early.”

“Rossi convinced me to leave.”

“Remind me to send him a text to thank him and to reprimand him, too. I wanted everything to be ready when you come home.” you explain, smiling.

“It’s okay. What is it that you’re making ?”

“Pasta alla carbonara alla Rossi.” you exclaim, trying to say it with an Italian accent. “I know, I mispronounced everything.” you add while Emily holds back a laughter.

“It was cute.” she affirms, kissing your cheek. “You need help ?”

“No, thanks, I love my kitchen too much.”

“Hey ! I’m not that bad.” Emily says, offended and she tickles you.

“You’ve improved, I have to admit.” you tell her whilst continuing to cut the pasta. “You have time to take a bath and put on some comfy clothes. Go !” you order and you push her toward the bathroom.

You’ve just finished cooking, when she reappears in the kitchen. Emily’s hair is in a bun and she wears leggings with one of your tee-shirts. She sits at the table and you put the food on the plates. At the same time you set the plates on the table, Emily pours you a glass of wine then another one for her.

Whilst you’re eating, Emily asks you about your day. You tell her about your class and some funny sentences your six-year-old pupils told you, she laughs at some of them. As you keep talking, you notice she does everything to avoid talking about her day, but you don’t say anything about it. You know Emily needs some time before explaining the horror she sees in the field. Guessing it was a pretty tough case, you distract her until the end of your meal.

Once you’ve cleared the table, you see on Emily’s face she won’t be sleeping, despite how tired she is. Her brain is working too much to allow her to rest. You give her a compassionate smile before taking her hand in yours. Emily smiles at this contact.

“You want to bake some muffins ?”

With your sentence, Emily understands what you’re insinuating : “you want to bake while we talk about what’s on your mind ?”

It’s a habit you’ve naturally picked on. The first time you did ‘baking therapy’, as Emily calls it, it was at the beginning of your relationship ; you had been dating for a month and that night, the case had been hard emotionally speaking. When she came home, she found you baking a strawberry charlotte. She helped you with it as much as she could while she was explaining what she was feeling. The baking moment ended up in tears though, Emily felt better afterwards. Therefore, it quickly became your tradition and currently, Emily needs a lot of ‘baking therapy’.

After taking all the ingredients, you start baking the muffins whilst Emily weighs what there is to weigh and hands them to you when you need it. At first, Emily stays silent, lost in her thoughts. You notice it right away because she doesn’t hear you the first time you ask her to give you the flour. You give her a few more minutes before asking the fateful question.

“You want to tell me what’s going on in your mind ?”

“I’d need more than some muffins to tell you everything that worries me.”

“Fortunately, we have a whole day off in common tomorrow. For once. It’s your last case, isn’t it ?”

“It was a tough one, yes. Everytime I think I’ve seen it all, a new UnSub proves me wrong. You know you’d think I’m used to it by now but it’s not the case. No matter how much I try to be emotionally distant, sometimes it’s complicated.” she admits with sad eyes while handing you the sugar and the baking powder.

“It’s not the only thing.” you add and Emily avoids your gaze for a second.

“I can’t stop thinking about Reid. We’ve been searching and still, we can’t find proof Scratch is behind all of it. If Spencer could remember what happened in that motel, it could probably help us. Besides, I can’t help but imagine Spencer in prison and how it must be complicated and it breaks my heart. He needs to get out of it and I have to admit I’ve been wondering if we’ll be able to do it this year.”

“You’ll find what you need to help him, Emily.” you affirm, putting your hand on the top of hers.

“I hope. Either way, I won’t be resting until he is with us again.”

“Em’, don’t forget to not overwork yourself.”

“He needs my help.” she steadfastly contradicts. “I should be doing more, I feel like I’m not doing enough.”

“It’s not true and deep down you know it. You’ve done everything you could and you and your team are still helping him. But Emily, you have to rest. You won’t be able to efficiently help him if you’re exhausted. I know you go through his file when you can’t sleep at night.” you confess and she looks at you, frowning. “The parquet floor creaks when you get out of bed.” you add, laughing lightly before mixing together your preparation. “Emily, I’m sure you’ll find a solution for Spencer. You’re the best BAU team, I don’t care if I’m not objective for saying this. The fact is, you will clear his name. I have faith in you guys. I have faith in you. And stop doubting your skills, you are a good Unit Chief.” you state looking her straight in the eyes.

“You’ve known for too long.” Emily falsely complains while you beat the egg whites until stiff.

“And knowing so many profilers helps too. I’m serious though, Em’. It’s true you have a lot of things to handle, the cases, the new responsibilities as Chief, Reid’s case with Scratch, it’s a lot of pressure and it’s okay to feel overwhelmed but do not think you don’t have the skills to deal with all of it. I know you and if there’s one person who can handle it, it’s you.”

“You always have the perfect words. Thank God, you’re here.” she smiles and she gives you the chocolates chips. “Without you I wouldn’t be able to feed myself properly.”

“Am I only useful for this ?” you question, faking being offended whilst you mix again.

“No, I couldn’t have dreamed of a better wife. With you, I can be vulnerable without feeling bad about it so thank you.” she says softly and kisses you.

Emily butters the tins then you fill them with the mix. You put the muffins in the oven while Emily sets the timer, not without stealing the rest of the preparation at the bottom of the bowl. You put the dishes in the dishwasher before sitting on the couch. Emily’s back is against your torso and your arms are around her body. You stay like this in silence, enjoying each other’s presence. Sometimes you whisper sweet nothings, wanting to make sure her mind is free from all the stress before falling asleep.

Once the timer rings, you tell Emily to go to bed whilst you take the muffins out of the oven. You let them cool down and go change in your pyjamas. As soon as you’re ready, you go to your room to ask Emily if she wants one muffin or two and when you see her fast asleep, you smile. You make sure every light is off and the main door is locked before making a detour to the kitchen. You take a small plate and put a muffin on it then you go find your wife in your bedroom. You set the plate on her night stand and lay next to her. As soon as you’re laying down, Emily’s arms find their way to your waist. You get closer to her, kiss the crown of her hair before closing your eyes, Emily’s regular breaths, lulling you to sleep.

Masterlist

{This is my side blog so I'll be answering comments under the username @marie-sworld}

#marie swriting in english #marie swriting with taylor swift #Spotify #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x reader #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you

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alwaystuesday · 1 year

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What on earth is going on?

I’ve been pondering for weeks now how in heaven, hell or earth, Good Omens season 2 has turned on some switch in my brain that means I'm suddenly expending way too much mental energy on analysing the fictional relationship between an angel and a demon, reading fan fic for the first time, and entirely unable to draw anything other than David Tennant and Michael Sheen's faces? Have I joined a fandom somehow? I guess I must have since I'm here (hi by the way - I’m still new here).

I mean clearly my ADHD addled brain has decided this is where the dopamine is at right now. But why? And so suddenly? And so intensely? I've certainly fallen harder than my average hyperfocus fixation and I'm still here like 2 months later. Last time this happened was when I discovered Lord of the Rings in high school.

I have a suspicion that magic has been worked somewhere in the beautiful combination of Neil and Terry’s wonderful writing (both already perilously close to my heart) with those two fabulous actors who have so convincingly and lovingly brought the characters to life.

It's fundamentally a light hearted concept: one angel and one demon who share common experiences over 6000 years of human history, and are bound together by it. Oh and they have to save the world.

But this is layered with such a rich complexity of character, perspective, and motivation; a mingling of flaws and virtues, trauma and joy. All visible in Crowley and Aziraphale, and yet also obscured from sight in the way that the real internal life of everyone we love is never truly knowable. You know things are happening beneath the surface and you can guess and infer and try to analyse, but we can't truly access those mysteries.

My mind is addicted to trying to solve the puzzle of this demon and this angel and what they mean to each other, and what that might tell me about love and life and what it is to be human, and the divinity within us all.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #go2 #aziraphale #crowley x aziraphale #aziracrow #crowley #neil gaiman #good omens s2 #david tennant #michael sheen

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killerlittlerejects · 5 months

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So not only did I get a friend to listen to the Needle and Smiles audio drama’s today, but I also came up with ideas for the Needles and Smiles AU I’ve started to work on.

It started off with just being another fun AU for Nina (because I love her) and spiraled into more characters getting involved??? lol don’t know how that happened but I’m not complaining. Excuse the vagueness, this concepts are still being worked on, but here’s what I thought of so far:

Nina: Ex classmate of Jeff’s before he moved, had a huge crush that ended up spiralling after Jeff and David started interacting with her a few days before the move. Ends up working with Jane and Toby to take down the inmates Jeff let out of the Asylum on Christmas eve, though she will kill people she believes deserves it. Trying to get over Jeff because she cares about the new family she has (yay for internal conflict!)

Lazari: (Remember I Eat Pasta For Breakfast?) “Failed” spawn of Zalgo. Fourteen when the incident on Christmas happens and sixteen by the time the events of the 3rd instalment happens. Trying to use her demon half for good but is struggling with her hunger. Nina and her are close becasue she saved her during chaos on Christmas. It was agreed that she stay with them as they don’t want to risk her losing control around innocent people.

Sally: Ghost girl that the whole group just ends up adopting cause they felt bad. Was the daughter of one of the nurses at the asylum who died in tragic accident (that wasn’t really an accident, working on the details). Does her best to aid in capturing the inmates, but everyone just wants to let her be a kid. She likes to draw pictures of everyone together. Her and Lazari’s big/little sis dynamic is adorable.

Jill might be in this AU too but I’m unsure of what to do with her yet. Still trying to figure that part out.

Honestly i didn’t realize how much I missed this series until I started relistening to the audio’s again. The nostalgia hit like a freight train lol.

#out of kills (ooc)#creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #jeff the killer creepypasta #jeff the killer #nina the killer #creepypasta nina the killer #lazari swann #lazari creepypasta #sally williams #//considering giving Nina a more grunge #//avril lavigne look for this AU don’t know why lol

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papaver-decervicatus · 1 year

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Headcanons- John "Soap" MacTavish

Birthday, July 14th 1996

Early Life

Born in a hospital in Glasgow, but lived in a suburb of Glasgow for most of his life until enlistment

The only outstanding grades he ever got in secondary school were Chemistry and Art, originally took a basic art course as opposed to doing music but went on to take two more and won some low-level awards for portraiture.

Goalkeeper in football throughout his life, continues to play in army rec leagues

He keeps in touch with the entirety of his old team through a group chat

Parents have been married since they were 18 (David) and 19 (Lorianne), respectively. His father is a bricklayer and his mother worked as a nurse aide until his birth.

Has 6 sisters, and is the 3rd born.

Jessica, 7 Years older, has twins who are currently 8 years old, no spouse

Deborah, 5 years older, married to a guy but no children

Lucy and Patricia, 4 years younger. Twins. Lucy is married and has a newborn, Patricia does not.

Abigail, Gwendolyn, and Elsie, 7 years younger, triplets, no children or spouses. (Yet.)

Was a choirboy at his local Catholic Church until he was kicked from the position for sneaking off to make out with one of the choir girls during mass.

Serial partier and fuckboy in his youth, got his ears pierced by a friend at a party when he was 14. Has a tramp Stamp from his 16th birthday while drunk. Got his SAS tattoo the day he passed selection.

Was arrested at 15 for beating the shit out of Jessica’s children’s father. The father beat Jessica and once Soap figured that out he nearly killed the man. The man fucked off and never came back and therefore charges got dropped

Only Gaz knew about that story until he let it slip while drinking and said “Isn’t that crazy?” Ghost casually responded with “Eh, hasn’t everyone?” completely seriously. Gaz just sort of stood there confused for a moment and decided not to bring it up again.

Ghost actually brought it up to Soap later and instead of a stern talking to like he expected, Ghost said “I always knew you were a good man. Glad to know you were an outstanding lad, too.”

Soap cried about that. Like. Actually teared up at the praise.

He was attacked by a neighborhood dog when he was 7, has never fully gotten over that fear.

Multiples run in both sides of his family, his mother was in a set of triplets and his father is an identical twin. Needless to say, massive family.

General

Avid letter writer and journal keeper, likes to tear out pages of his journal to keep his niece and nephew back home entertained.

He has a small flat in Glasgow that he pays the triplets to keep tidy while he’s away. Will visit his family frequently when home but does not typically stay the night.

His hobbies include sketching, painting, and football. Makes his own watercolor paints, and roasts his own charcoals. His favorite medium is ballpoint pen, and his favorite subject is portrait.

Has a terrible habit of chewing the tops off of his ballpoint pens, meaning he always has a few uncapped ones lying around

Price makes him run laps for this, but the only thing stronger than soap's stamina is his need to chew plastic.

Has a sketchbook dedicated to each member of the 141, portraits, still lifes, likes and dislikes, etc.

Ghost’s is by far the most filled out, he would never admit it though.

Has sketched a ghost's face at least a hundred times, same with his tattoo. Chronic artist about it though, never thinks it’s any good.

Ghost saw it once.

He thought it was perfect and had to snuff out the urge to burn it.

Secretly flustered about how handsome soap draws him.

“That’s how he sees me? Fuckin’ hell. He thinks I’m hot.”

Soap, does indeed, think Ghost is hot.

Gaz Gifted him a Christmas Gift in an old Soapbox, thinking it was the funniest thing ever. Since then, Soap only ever gives out people’s birthday and Christmas presents in soap boxes, much to Gaz’s dismay.

The gift was a shitty “Bodice Ripper” novel, signed by the author that Gaz picked up at a flea market. Soap read the thing when he ran out of paper to draw in on a mission and discovered he actually really enjoys the kitsch of them.

Gaz thinks it's funny, Price doesn’t comment, and Ghost fucking hates it.

Soap also has a terrible habit of reading the steamy parts aloud to mess with Ghost who originally started asking him what was going on in the books to try and get a rise out of Soap. Ghost regrets it immensely.

Has no shame about most things. Owns lingerie, and he will wear lacy thongs in public showers to make others uncomfortable. Absolutely owns a pair of cartoon red-heart-on-white background boxers that he wears

Gets Gaz to pants him during the last day of recruit training while wearing the boxers. Never gets old.

Has found a way to cheat at every single card game.

Still never wins.

Take out of choice is Chinese. Is a good cook but always ends up setting the smoke alarm off, even when not using the oven or stove.

Is not allowed to use the microwave anymore after… the incident…

Has put all of his body care products into dish soap bottles so it looks to new recruits like he’s using Dawn Dish Detergent as a mouthwash.

Cuts and styles his own hair.

Social Smoker, his mom, in particular, hates it, he picked up the habit in basic and has never been able to fully quit. Only 1-2 cigs a day, though.

Knows a little bit of Scottish Gaelic, mostly just words and phrases that get tossed around a lot. Couldn’t write it or converse in it, but will quote words/phrases casually

Not as religious anymore, but does still pray.

Would like to get married in a church and have a big family (which could include adoption), and live somewhere in the lowlands once he retires. No plans, as of current.

Soap's most toxic trait is his pride, nothing gets him angrier faster than being underestimated in any regard and he takes everything personally. Ghost being cold to him? Personal. He is going to befriend him if it's the last thing he does. Graves betrayal? Personal. Johnny will survive in a burning city just to prove to himself that he may be stupid enough to get burned but not weak enough to burn. Not being able to do something perfectly on the first try? Personal. He has a weakness and it is his fault and he will do it until he gets it right. He may be a fighter in every sense of the word, and his pride might get him the win, but there's always a bigger foe- and it's always himself.

Talents, Special Bonds, ETC.

Really good at Caricature drawing, occasionally recruits will commission caricatures from him.

Chronic prankster along with Gaz. The difference is that Gaz either charms his way out of it or avoids getting caught in the first place. Soap is really obvious and accepts punishment too readily to get out of trouble.

Price is the hardest on Soap because he sees Soap as a protege, while Soap knows that it is technically positive attention, he is a little bitter that others get away with stuff he just can't

The reason he gets along so well with Ghost is that even though he's naturally abrasively charismatic, he does not ask hard questions. He is very much a "You tell me what you want to tell me and not a thing more, and if that means you tell me nothing, I guess we'll just sit around quietly and that's cool by me" type of guy. He gained that outlook from being the only boy in a household of girls, he is incredibly emotionally intelligent in that way.

Gaz is the best with infants, but Soap is the best with kids. The second a kid is crying, he has already distracted them and they're off playing. He can handle about a dozen children at once with no problem, and therefore he is the best with new recruits.

Mental math talents are off the charts, also has a terribly uncanny ability to look at any object and say "yeah. I will need x amount of C4 for that." And he is always right.

#navigation -> headcanon tag #john soap mactavish #cod mwii #soap mwii

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lampmanliveblogs · 1 year

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While the rest of the Hexside students distract Kikimora, our heroes have just enough time to draw up the complicated teleportation circle… with a bit of help from Luz’ palisman, who has yet to take on its true final form.

Kikimora is able to shake off the attacking kids long enough to take one last shot, just as Luz activates the teleportation array and and a brilliant flash of light, their whisked away from danger and into the vast cranium of the Titan.

There they stand now, under The Collector’s Archive House, so close, yet so far away. For I fear that the hardest part is yet to come…

Listen, I don’t know anything about Star Trek, but I do know that ”Beam us up Scotty” is a Star Trek reference. So yeah, shoutout to that, as well as Camila coming out as a fellow Cosmic Frontier fan, which also doubles as a light-hearted reference to the fact that Hunter, like O’Bailey, is a clone.

And let’s not forget Amity and Willow being best friends again, that’s super precious too. You love to see it.

Alright, first things first, I love the guesses the squad had.

Camila guessed a dragon, because dragons are THE fantasy creature, and she knows how much Luz loves her fantasy books.

Hunter guesses a bird, not just because of Flapjack, but because Eda (and the rest of the Clawthorne family) has a bird palisman.

Amity guesses an otter, which is a callback to Enchanting Grom Fright, when Luz wondered if she should go to Grom dressed as an otter… with a dark side!

Willow guesses a bat because…. because… um… Bat-Queen? Maybe? They did have that excursion in the Bat-Queen’s forest back in Escape of the Palisman.

And finally, Gus throws out snake. And I’m going to be honest with you guys, I might’ve maybe had a few hints at what Luz’ palisman was gonna be. Enough to figure out it was a snake, or more accurately, snake-related.

As far as in-show foreshadowing goes… at the top of my head, last episode we had a bunch of snake imagery around Luz. We had her finding the ”snake pajamas” in Camila’s nightmare/flashback, we had Luz wearing that shirt with a staff and a snake on it, and I think she might’ve had a drawing of a snake in her notebook? As far back as episode one of season one, Luz was playing with snakes and I think Camila might’ve even said something about Luz making some friends that weren’t reptiles. That’s not even to mention the fact that Luz’ newly adopted sister is a snake.

So yeah, there’s been plenty of snakes around Luz. But of course, this isn’t just any old snake, it’s a…

A SNAKESHIFTER. You guys know I love a good pun. And just like Vee, this little cutie is a shapeshifter. Which is so perfect for Luz, the child of two worlds, a chaotic being, always on the move.

Her name is Stringbean! Now, David ”Stringbean” Akeman was an American singer-songwriter, musician, comedian, and semi-professional baseball player. String bean is also one alternate name for green beans. You can also call them haricot verts, if you wanna charge extra.

So yeah, I gotta agree with Luz here: she’s perfect! She is Luz' own infinite potential given physical form.

Now that things have calmed down just a little, Willow takes the opportunity to thank Hunter for his words before, he really helped her, and he means a lot to her too. and then they blush and almost hold hands and it’s so cute.

In fact, it’s almost a little too cute, I’m starting to get nervous here. Because surely, they’re gonna end the episode on a cliffhanger, and there’s only just over a minute left of the episode…

But before that, I’m gonna get what might very well be the last cute screenshot of this episode.

Look at the babies! Look at them!

Aaaaaaand there we have it. Good vibes ended. The camera pans upward to The Collector overlooking our heroes, with Raine still possessed by Philip looming behind them, ready to whisper yet more poisonous words into the ear of the Lord of the Fireflies.

”I think I wanna play a new game.”

And with a snap of their fingers, The Collector ends the episode right then and there as everything goes black.

Treat me like I'm evil Freeze me till I'm cold Beat me till I'm feeble Grab me till I'm old

Fry me till I'm tired Push me till I fall Treat me like a criminal Just a shadow on the wall!

#the owl house #liveblog #the owl house liveblog #toh s3e2 #for the future

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we-are-inevitable · 2 years

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ik that post was kinda a meme but if u have an actual hcs for Vampire Davey (TM) i would love to hear about him

also hi !! i love u !!! i thought of something look at that !!

omg omg ok i fucking love u.

first and foremost, for anyone non-chandler reading this, we need to establish that there are a lot of antisemitic stereotypes when it comes to vampire tropes. the greed, the lust, the seduction and immorality- all of these stereotypes have harmed the jewish community and, as we know, davey is jewish. it’s important to keep this in mind when moving forward.

when i think of david being a vampire, i don’t think he’s necessarily evil or a monster. i think he would be very low-key about it actually; he doesn’t draw attention to himself, he doesn’t like extravagance, he doesn’t live in the past- david’s philosophy is to change with the times and keep his head down. other vampires are very stuck in their ways, but i think since davey was turned when he was so young, being eternally 20 years old to him means that he needs to fit in with the current young adult generation.

like the tropes, though, he’s more of a nightdweller, BUT i don’t like the tropes that say vampires die in sunlight. personally i like it better when sunlight is just vaguely uncomfortable and unpleasant; davey prefers night time and has really sensitive skin.

ok chandler we already talked about this but: david always has his fangs out. they aren’t retractable. the thing is that humans will look at him, and they’ll see the fangs, but they won’t notice them. i like my vampires with a little bit of mind control so davey just,, controls everyone around him not to notice them, whether he realizes he’s doing it or not. he veils as a normal human but when humans look at him, they’re drawn in because something is off, something doesn’t feel right, something doesn’t make sense with him- but they can’t put their finger on it. it adds to the mystery that follows him around, though humans are naturally inclined to search for what’s different about david because they’re basically, on a biological level, prey.

speaking of the mind control: david survives on human blood! but he doesn’t kill his victims often. he uses the mind-control-mind-warp-whatever-you-want-to-call-it. none of his victims remember what happens. on the rare occasion he Does kill it’s only someone who 1) pisses him off really fucking bad or 2) someone who is a “bad person” by david’s moral standards.

i feel like davey would be a really good ghostwriter, so that’s how he provides for himself; writing all night, staying in all day unless he just wants to go out,, it’s a lonely life, but it’s not terrible. he specializes in historical fiction period pieces because he Knows the history and can provide a really authentic retelling with niche details that would otherwise need a lot of research.

as far as a vamp goes, he’s very fashion forward but still pedestrian. some of the others he knows would be the ones to wear full early-19th century garb in public, but if davey isn’t wearing jeans and a hoodie you’ll find him in trousers and sweaters. he’s just a very chill yet lightly academic dude.

mans has like 9 bachelors degrees because he knows how to manipulate the paperwork to get into universities with a new identity each time (and even if he didn’t, he could just mind-warp the registrar and boom! he’s in a degree plan). he just likes learning and if he’s gonna be on earth for a very long time he might as well make something of it

i really think that he’s kind of lonely. he has casual friends at [insert whatever university he’s conned himself into this time here] but nothing really,, substantial? so jack is the first and only human he meets who really has an affect on him romantically.

for the sake of this not being eighty pages long i’m ending here, but feel free to ask about davey and this au !!

#davey jacobs #david jacobs #livesies #newsies #ask a jac !#jack kelly #newsies musical #vampire davey #chandler tag #ilysm chandler #javid #javey #newsies live

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kellyscowboy · 1 year

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꒰✧ᯇ✦꒱ DON'T BE SORRY FOR LEAVING AND GROWING OLD || ch. 2

ᯇ summary ! ✦ Jack Kelly finally gets out of New York and makes something of himself. Though, he's never been good at goodbyes and David won't answer his letters. || read full thing on ao3 now WRITTEN FOR THE NEWSIES FIC EXCHANGE ᯇ warnings ! ✦ cussing & angst 777 WORDS © 2023 , 𝐤𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐲𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐨𝐲

prev. chapter || next chapter

Jack had finally made a life for himself. He no longer wondered where his next meal would come from or if he might spend the next week in the refuge instead of the lodging. It wasn’t like he was famous, but he was known enough.

Santa Fe wasn’t as small as he had hoped, but still smaller than New York. In his mind, he had pictured a town where everyone knew him, and neighbors would bring him eggs and invite him over for Thanksgiving.

It had taken a while, but everyone did know him. However, it wasn’t due to the shortage of population, but due to his impeccable art that was sold at coffee shops and diner’s all-around town. He had aneighbor that brought him eggs, but she only did so in hopes that the boy would fall in love with her and draw her.

Which he did… draw her. He never could fall in love with her. She was missing something, something he had yet to find anywhere but New York. But he married her anyway, because he didn’t know what else to do and he was horrified of being alone.

That’s when his career kicked off. Darla, his wife, came from a well-off family who had many connections in the art business. It was sheer luck that her father’s best friend happened to be a curator, who had chosen the art that was displayed in many popular museums.

When he got paid for the first time, the bubble of guilt that had popped long ago began to fester again. He knew what he had sacrificed to get to that point, the friendships he had lost and the family he had left behind. That’s when he wrote his first letter.

Dear David,

It’s been a while since I left, and I guess I’m kinda hoping you’ve gotten over the whole leaving ya behind thing. Which I guess ain’t fair of me to ask.

I’m glad you were mad at me. You let me get away with too much, Dave. I shouldn’t have talked to you the way I did, I should have said goodbye, and I should’ve brought you’se with me. So, I’m sorry.

You probably don’t care, but I’m doing pretty good out here. People really like my art. I just got my first check, it’s weird to see dollars and not cents. Sorry, I feel like I’m bragging. I’m not trying to. It’s just…

Well, I dunno really. You always told me I could be something more and I guess this is me thanking you, because you’re right. I wouldn’t be here without you. And I don’t want you to blame yourself for me leaving, cuz I would’a done it anyway.

I’ve been thinking about coming out and visiting. But I’m sure no-one wants to see me ever again.

I want you to know that I felt guilty, I still feel guilty. I don’t know why I didn’t want to say goodbye, but. Anyway. I’m sorry for everything, Dave.

Sincerely & forever yours,

Cowboy.

It wasn’t too long after that that his art began to change. Colorful landscapes of Santa Fe that took deep breaths of fresh air turned into dark Manhattan sky lines with smog that leaked out of the edges. Portraits of Darla began to showcase curly hair, freckles, and light blue eyes. Images of Darla’s younger cousins swinging over the lake turned into young, raggedy-clothed boys hugging each other tightly during a storm.

“Jack…” His wife started. She approached him carefully, softly. “Honey, I think you might be missing New York.”

Jack hummed, barely acknowledged the statement. “Why do you say that, dear?”

“Your last five paintings were supposed to be of me,” she said. “Not that they had to be. But you said they were.” She looked in a mirror that hung above their dresser. “I don’t know if you haven’t taken a good look at me recently. But I have long, straight black hair and brown eyes. My skin is pale, and I don’t even have freckles during the summer.” She paused too long for Jack’s comfort, then turned and waited until he looked up at her. “And I’m not a boy, Jack.”

Immediately, tears began to well in his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Darla smiled and wiped the stray tears off his cheek. She kissed his nose and pressed their foreheads together. “I’ve known for a long time, Jack. I just want you to be happy.”

“I really do love you.” Jack said quietly.

“I know you do.” She intertwined their hands and ran her free hand through his hair. “But you’re in love with him.”

#to be completely honest #i havent read this thing at all since i've written it #so idk if its good or not but #here LOL #javid #jack kelly #david jacobs #newsies #newsies fic exchange #˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ newsies // fics ❥#˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ newsies // leaving & growing old ❥

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wonderlesscomics · 9 months

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Batman: Killing Time (Tom King & David Marquez)

Issues # 1-6

Read January 2024

Story: 9/10

This book. This book is incredible. It’s nearly a perfect Batman story. It’s tight, it’s concise, it’s gripping and most importantly… it’s fun! Tom King does a phenomenal job at tackling an early Batman story and having a good time with it while still delivering his style. I felt like Tom held back in areas for the books benefits the flashback scenes to Ancient Greece and Constantinople are fascinating but not over used or complicated. He keeps the story to a tight group of cast members and lets them play off each other throughout like a Tarantino film. This book feels heavily inspired by Pulp Fiction all down to the “fake out” of the prize at the end. I imagine that this ending will and has pissed people off but I found it oddly satisfying and meaningful in a nihilistic way that just isn’t present in comics besides like Jokers played out motives. This will easily become a must read and recommend for people who want to understand comics and what the medium can offer in a casual yet fulfilling way. Any person can enjoy this book at face value but there is depth to be found in the pages for those wanting to dive.

Art: 10/10

Holy shit. I’ve never even heard of David Marquez before but this has to be one of the best and most consistently drawn books I’ve ever read. I’m a sucker for a single artist all the way through, I just love the cohesion it creates through the book and it’s even better if that single artist is of this high of a quality. With Clay Mann as my favorite artist of all time it’s hard not to draw so many comparisons and inspirations to David’s style that some panels I found myself thinking that Clay might have done this. The lay outs are simple and don’t really break the mold but why should they when the art is simply beautiful to look at. These characters pop off the page (thanks to astounding design and inks/colors) and breakthrough the scenes with texture and lighting.

Special Notes:

- this would be a phenomenal choice to do as a movie. The script is tight and has many fan favorites all battling it out in a heist mystery thriller.

- Catwoman just made me smile ear to ear in this book. And the surprising standout in this book is The Riddler. He is cool, suave and actually funny.

- Agent #%@# curses way to much it’s insane to read and not laugh

- The help is simply a cool character, would love to see more of him

Overall Rating: 9.5/10

Tom King and David Marquez are clearly masters of their crafts and I’m profoundly thankful they collaborated on this project to amazing effect. A short and elegant story like this is ease to overlook because of its length and seemingly non complex ideas but below the action packed adventure is a smart and well plotted tale of an early Batman and the motivations behind criminals. The writing is sharp and thoughtful and the art is gorgeous and timeless. On a meta note I had been struggling with some of the recent Tom King books I had read but this shot an arrow in my heart and reminded me why I fell in love with his books in the first place. I highly recommend this to all readers and fans.

#dc comics #comics review #batman

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technetiumai · 2 years

Photo

Oh, goodness! It’s 11:24?!?! Okay, hold up, I have something. Hold up. Hold Up. HOLD UP....

Okay, I can’t find what I wrote this week, it must be in my notes app.

Here’s something else I wrote a while back for Atomic Son, which I haven’t posted yet. At least I don’t think so. I guess I could have deleted it. I wish I wouldn’t do that 😆.

“Yes, but now I’m going to die alone. There’s only one reasonably intelligent boy left in this school, and he---” she puts her hands under her chin and flutters her eyelashes dramatically, “only has eyes for Simon Snow.”

“Well, when we’re both older, after Simon Snow has inevitably broken my heart, and when you have officially resigned yourself to a life of spinsterhood, we can get married.”

“And why would we do that?”

“Companionship and children, just like everyone else.”

“We’re going to have sex?”

“Magic, no. We’ll use a turkey baster or something.”

“How romantic.”

I’ve been working on valentines, and--- are you ever drawing something and, despite it seeming to look to you like whatever you were intending, for some reason you’re fully convinced that if someone else looks at it they’ll just see like... visual gibberish? Or is my brain just broken? I keep thinking, ‘Surely this doesn’t actually look like anything...’ and having moments where I’m hyperaware that all visual arts are basically just us taking advantage of our own pareidolia, and none of it’s real. But is anything real?

I’m not feeling great; I’ve been doing better with migraines lately, but today was pretty bad, and after a couple of triptans, I still feel super weird. And now my husband’s watching David Lynch, which is absolutely never helpful.

I can’t remember anyone’s name! And now it’s 11:57!?!?

@fatalfangirl (thank you for tagging me!) @cutestkilla, @onepintobean @captain-aralias @raenestee @ivelovedhimthroughworse

I know for sure there are other people I’m able to tag, but I have no brain. I blame David Lynch.

#six sentence sunday

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misslavenderlady · 2 years

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The Boys Who Wouldn’t Grow Up - Chapter 16

Summary: After everything David has been through, Max is finally ready to reach out and be the father his son needs most right now. Meanwhile, Marko is preparing for whatever he needs to do to save his brother.

WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: Mentions of mental health and seeking help and guidance for it.

It's nice being able to write Max as a good, caring father instead of what we see in the movie. I also like having Paul and Dwayne being competent hunters who also make very sweet friends. ❤️

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How David was able to get home in his condition, he hadn’t the slightest idea. The entire ride on his bike was slow and clumsy, as he was running on almost no energy. It didn’t help that the sun was beating down so hot and bright on his body. Even the sunglasses he had used barely helped him. There were plenty of middle fingers and swears thrown his way by drivers unhappy with him on the road, but he didn’t care. His body and his brain were in a battle with one another. The former was screaming at him to get back into bed as soon as possible and sleep the entire day away until he no longer felt like garbage. The latter was still spinning with confusion over what Maria had said to him before.

Don’t trust Michael

All this time, he had followed Michael’s lead in everything they did together. What started off with an innocent hang-out at the boardwalk had turned into a near-suicide stunt over the ocean. Everything had just happened so fast, yet something had been drawing him closer and closer to Michael. He hadn’t questioned it before, thinking it was just an instant bond of friendship. Maybe even something a little more. However, as Maria’s words played over and over again in his thoughts, David began to second guess some things that he had looked over before. Maria didn’t get the same treatment as the others, missing out on hot meals and better privacy in her living space. Michael seemed to really enjoy elements of danger, and Maria expressed worry over it getting worse. There was also something pushing David to leave the family he already had in favor of joining this one. It just didn’t make any sense. Everything around him was influencing him to go to Michael. Even if he knew deep down he had a family that did love him, it was like he was overcome by a spell. One that hadn’t really taken place until that night, Michael saved him from the train and allowed him to break bread with his family. The night before he got these powers. David was so painfully close to connecting these clues together, but he was far too weak to comprehend anything going on in his brain. If he was going to get an answer to all of this, then he had to find Michael as soon as possible. He’d go back to the boardwalk tonight and try to find him and his brothers. For now, he’d need all the rest he could get. He hadn’t taken even one step inside the house before getting hounded.

“DAVID!” A pair of hands grabbed David, swiftly yanking him against a chest and into a hug. Even with his killer headache, David recognized who it was. “Dad?”

Max was a complete mess. He was still in the same outfit he had worn for his dinner date with Lucy the night before, his tie loosened and lopsided and his shirt collar undone and messy. His hair was disheveled and his eyes were bloodshot. By the look of it, he had been up all night long, and it was for very good reason. “Oh my God, I’m so relieved you’re home, son!” he said, still gripping his oldest tight in a hug. He was afraid he’d lose David again if he let go. “I’ve been driving around Santa Carla all night looking for you! I only got home an hour ago to get coffee and call the local police in case they found you. I was scared to death that something had happened to you!” David’s head was spinning. He wasn’t expecting this as the first thing he’d experience when he got home. After being so determined to get out in the first place, he hadn’t considered how worried his father would be when he eventually headed home. At the very least, he expected more scolding and another argument, not this. It was frustrating having his judgment so clouded lately. He didn’t know why he doubted his father so much. “David, look at me. Did anyone hurt you? Did you take anything last night? Please be honest,” Max begged his son, checking his eyes for any sign that he was under the influence. Thankfully, the only thing he saw was tiredness. “Dad….I’m fine…it was just…a long night out…” David mumbled. He barely had the energy to talk, let alone stand up for much longer. “I need some sleep….can I…go to my room…?” Max wasn’t having that. He didn’t spend the entire night fearing the worst of his son just for David to brush it off and lock himself away in his room. “Son, we really need to have a talk. I know I’ve been hard on you lately. You probably haven’t thought the best of me, and I get why. But this past night and this scare with you….it was a bit of a reality check for me,” Max said. David raised an eyebrow at his father. He didn’t understand. “When I was your age…mental health wasn’t exactly seen as something to fix. People were ignored or abused or just thrown in asylums so they’d be forgotten. If you were going through something, people would tell you to ‘take it like a man’ and just forget it. That’s all I knew about it. But now…I see it’s not at all like that” Max let go of his son for a moment to walk over to the kitchen counter. He leaned over the sink, head held low as he thought back to all struggles he had experienced at David’s age. How there was no help for him then, and he feared for his son's well-being now.

“You’re a person whose feelings matter. You deserve love and help, not nagging and fighting. I won’t lie and say I completely understand everything, but I do want to put in the effort to learn about what you’re going through so I can help you. If I ever lost you to this…God help me, I don’t know what I’d do…”

Inside David’s chest, his heart pulsed with a sharp ache. He’d never seen his father be so open and vulnerable before. He had no idea this was what he was doing to his family. He thought back to the past few days and how the little voice in his head told him his father didn’t care as his friends did, but this changed everything. “Son, whatever you need from me, I’ll do it. We can find you a therapist to talk to while we’re in Santa Carla. We can go on a family trip if you need to get away for a bit. If you want, we can even just talk it out, just you and me. You can tell me whatever is on your mind, and I can just be an ear for you to listen if that’s what you want” There were so many things David wanted to say. He wanted to apologize for saying he hated his father before. To agree to do something for the depression he struggled with so often. To explain that his problems were now on a supernatural level. But at that moment, he could only get out one thing.

“Dad…I’m so…tir-”

He couldn’t even finish his sentence before he hit the floor. His knees buckled before his legs pulled him down to the kitchen floor. His hands were shaking terribly as he went down. David’s entire body had given out, not wanting to fight sleep any longer. If Max wasn’t on alert before, he certainly was now. He scrambled to catch David’s upper body before he fell all the way and busted his head on the hard floor. “David! I’ve got you!” Max assured him. He called out to his other son as he helped David back on his feet. “MARKO! Your brother’s home! Come here!” Sure enough, Marko came running around the corner and nearly busted down the door to get into the kitchen. He had been too worried about David to sleep last night, choosing instead to camp out downstairs in case his brother had decided at some point to return home. It didn’t help his nerves seeing his brother nearly unconscious in the kitchen. “Jesus Christ, David, what happened?” he asked. “I don’t think David has the energy to talk right now. Listen, I’m going to get him up to his room so he can rest. I want you to call that number I got from the local police and let them know David is home safe so they don’t have to keep an eye out anymore,” Max ordered the curly-haired boy. Max swung one of David’s arms over his shoulder and reached down to scoop up his son to make carrying him a lot easier. It was a bit tricky at first, as he wasn’t a spry young man anymore and David wasn’t a little kid. But he wouldn’t be bothered by it if it meant getting his son to his room so he could rest after a hectic night. Perhaps their talk really could wait a little longer. Marko nodded as he watched his father leave with his brother in tow. It was hard seeing David like this. After everything that happened last night, he knew the exhaustion his brother felt was a result of his newfound vampirism. It killed him seeing the guy act like this, but if he was going to fix this mess, then he needed to follow up on his plans with Paul and Dwayne today. He only hoped they would still be okay with going the pacifist route with this problem. He wasn’t going to lose his only brother to this. Marko was halfway through making the phone call like his father had requested when the back door of the kitchen creaked open. To his surprise, his grandmother came walking through the entrance, looking much more disheveled than when he saw her the night before. Her braid was undone, her dress was wrinkled and her lipstick smeared. When she caught his gaze, she simply stared back, frozen in place.

“Uh-” “Let’s just keep this to ourselves, Marko,” she said, walking past her grandson in order to turn in and get some rest after her own night out. Marko simply shook his head, finding it best not to ask about things he wasn’t necessarily ready to hear.

It wasn’t easy leaving his father after everything that had happened the night before. When Marko was getting ready to leave to see his friends, his father had been making calls to local doctor’s offices for available therapists and counselors for David to talk to. While it was certainly nice seeing David get the help he needed, it made Marko even more worried about the bigger problem they were dealing with. Their father could call every doctor in the state of California, but unless one of them knew a cure for vampirism, it was up to Marko to turn his brother back to normal. He all but sprinted the entire way to Wolfsbane Books, hoping Dwayne and Paul would let him in before opening. His face was flushed and sweaty by the time he got to the front of the store. Sure enough, with some thorough banging on the glass window, he was able to get their attention. “Holy shit, are we glad to see you in one piece!” Paul greeted Marko after getting the front door unlocked. “We were really worried you were gonna be turned into a juice box. Are you feeling okay?” Dwayne asked once the Johnson boy was safe inside the store. He grabbed a nearby step ladder for Marko to sit down on so he could rest while giving them the details. “Well, I’m severely sleep deprived and my nerves are completely shot, but at least I can say my circulatory system is still functioning, so I got that going for me,” Marko half-joked, feeling relieved to be able to sit down. It was good to have friends that cared so much about his well-being. It was even better that said friends weren’t crazy, but rather incredibly smart about something as dangerous as vampires. Marko had faith in them being able to help. “If your brother didn’t attack anyone, then that means he’s a half-vampire. They’re weaker and still age like humans, but can’t be destroyed by the sun. It takes the kill and drinking of a human to complete the transformation permanently,” Dwayne explained.

While he tried to catch his breath, Dwayne and Paul started collecting piles of books they had rounded up the night before. They stacked them up one by one on the table nearest to Marko. He was able to catch sight of some of the numerous titles: Vampires & World Cultures, Defense Against Monsters, Secrets of the Undead

“Are all these books about vampires?” Marko asked. Even though he was an avid reader, this was quite an intimidating collection.. “You bet your ass they are!” Paul said, grabbing a random book from one of the piles and tossing it to Dwayne. “If we’re gonna teach you how to defend yourself, you’re gonna have to know everything about your enemy” The brunet randomly flipped through the book he had in hand before finding the right page. He turned it around to face Marko, pointing at the right paragraph for him to follow along with. “The best way we can help you fix this problem with your brother is by finding the head vampire that turned him and killing them. Since he’s only half, he can still be cured once the leader has been defeated” Everything was so overwhelming. To think that yesterday afternoon he thought they were being silly about all of this. Now his entire world was upside down, and his own brother was at risk of becoming a creature of the night permanently. Marko only hoped David would stay strong enough to fight the urge to kill before they could take down the monster that did this to him in the first place. “We’re gonna keep the shop closed for today so that we can get you all caught up,” Paul said, grabbing another book from the pile. “Once you got the brains, we’ll work on the brawn” Marko raised an eyebrow, not entirely certain what that involved. Thankfully, Dwayne picked up on that and offered a translation on his brother’s behalf. “He means we’ll teach you how to fight. Basic combat and self-defense, along with using weapons that can kill or injure a vampire. You gotta know how to use your weapons properly. If you’re clumsy and inexperienced, it’ll get you killed in a fight with a blood-sucker”

“God, this is a lot of stuff to go over,” Marko said, feeling a little overwhelmed. “I don’t even know any other vampires out there or which ones have interacted with David. I…fuck, I just want my brother back…”

The Murray brothers could clearly see their new friend was definitely in over his head about all this. They had their own rather troublesome history with vampires, and it brought back some bothersome memories of their own seeing Marko worry about helping his brother out. Paul wrapped an arm around Marko’s shoulder while Dwayne put a hand on his arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t you worry, Marko. We’re gonna fix this as soon as possible” Marko nodded, grabbing a random book from the stack on the table. Better get started right away.

David was safe upstairs in his bed, and knowing that allowed Max to finally get some rest. He hadn’t even bothered to change into some pajamas, instead just flopping down on his bed in his date outfit. He’d get a little sleep in while David recovered, and if he needed anything, Max would be ready to help. Unfortunately, his nap was cut short by his bedside rotary phone ringing just inches from his face. Max groaned but still reached out to pick up the phone, hoping to stop the sound before it potentially woke up David.

“H-Hello..?” he groaned into the receiver. “Hi! Is Max Johnson available?” a feminine voice greeted him on the other end. Max perked up a little, finding the voice to be familiar. “Speaking“ “This is Star, Lucy’s employee. Last night she asked me to give you a message”

Now Max was fully awake, sitting up straight to better listen to Star’s message. After everything that happened, he had completely forgotten to call Lucy and update her on the situation with David. Despite how understanding she was when he ran out, he still felt guilty for doing so and making her worried. “Oh yes! I was meaning to get back to her” “She wanted to see if you wanted to try for dinner again this evening. Perhaps something smaller,” Star explained. There was absolutely no way Max was leaving his house after everything that happened with David. He couldn’t risk another scare like that and not be home and ready to help. On the other hand, he did want to make things up to Lucy. After all, she was just as concerned about David’s well being. Not to mention she had shown some interest in being a good influence on them as well. Maybe if he could make things work for both his sons and the woman he had budding feelings for, then everyone could be happy. “I think that would be a wonderful idea,” Max said. “Tell her she can come over to my house tonight. I can make something for us! She can even bring her dog if she wants!” Star agreed on Lucy’s behalf, collecting the information about Max’s address and the time for her boss to be there. When all was said and done, Max thanked her for reaching out to him and hung up the phone. He’d rest for now and make something special when it got closer to dinnertime.

This could be a really good thing. For the sake of his family, it had to be.

#the lost boys #tlb #my fic #ao3 fic #david the lost boys #max the lost boys #marko the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #paul the lost boys #swap fic #swap au

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engagemythrusters · 1 year

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okay. ahsoka. here we go

Immediately a fan of the music. Did they get the same people as TBOBF and The Mandalorian? The Ludwig person? Forgot the name…

INTRO CRAWL?! DAMNNNNN

But also red? Why red crawl?

Why is she searching for Thrawn not Ezra. Like I know the two left together but you think Ezra would be the priority. Not thrawn.

Aaand there’s the ship. Always start Star Wars with a ship.

Uuuugh my pirate site keeps buffering. Booooooooo

“They’re jedi” okay vibe but are they actually. Or is it those sorta-Sith guys

Ugh okay my annoying I have to go without subtitles now… :/ tbjs js gonna be hard

Okay that was a very Star Trek move. Why. For what.

YEAH ITS THOSE SITHLIKE BITCHES

Shin Hati evil love that for her. Love evil gorls

Evil granpa got shoulders daaamn love that for him

Ah it’s Bad Wig Girl.

God seriously why are the wigs so bad. Fucjing Disney. Boo.

Man I miss when Star Wars had cool titles. Phantom Menace. Return of the Jedi. Now it’s just fuckin NAMES.

Oooo interesting place. Old jedi temple? Looks like it.

Aaand her Lekku and Montrals still look like shjt styrofoam.

Okay fun lightsaber trick. At least theh didn’t forget how cool Ahsoka Tano is.

Wonder if we’ll see Morai…

Oh wow. Ahsoka wearss lipgloss ig. Okay.

This is very slow paced. Move a lil girl.

Those remind me a lil of the Zeffo spheres. But if they were filled. Idk maybe I’m making a connection that isn’t there. I just really like Star Wars Jedi games. Their lore was WAY COOL.

What do droids need capes for tho. Like why. That’s literally so fuckin impractical

UH DAVID TENNANT rip

RAMP JUMP RAMP JUMP RAMP JUMP

God I love T-6 shuttles. Best Star Wars ship. I mean other than bobas. But yeah T-6 sexiest SW ship

Do we get to see Sabine soon I miss her

OH MY GOD HERA

OHHHHHHHHH MY GOOOOODDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

THE GASP I JUST GUSP

Okay her makeup and contacts really really suck

Hera just. Disbelieving. I get it. She’s so hurt she can’t let herself hurt anymore.

“Does that mean Ezra—“ WEEPING

Hera “oh my god more jedi bullshit I can never escape” Syndulla

SHES NOT FORCE SENSITIVE LEAVE HER ALONE

YAY SABINEEEEEE

Oh lothal so so pretty

RYDER hi!

EZRA MONUMENT?!

Ohhh it’s that wall

Ohhhhhh weeping

SABEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEN

Oh she’s not there

Hehe I love her

OH IS THA—YEDSSS JAI

I love u Jai

God look at them. Look at the wall. Christ. Kanan…

Hehe sabine

SPECTER?! YOURE NOT ALLOWED THAT. YOU DONT DESERBE IT. THATS FOR THE FAMILY. THATS FOR! FAMILY!!!!

Sabine u shit hehe

This is a good actress for her 10/10 thank you for giving yourself to our beloved explosions girl

“She’s crazy” yeah she had years of being stupid with Ezra to make her nuts xoxo

TOWER TOWER TOWER

OHHH KITTH KITTH KITTY AAAH

What’s the kitties name

Ohh it even uses the same loth cat sounds from the show AND real kitty sounds

What’s the NAME of kittyyyyy

Oh Ezra’s stuff 😭

EZRAAAAAAA

“More than others” WHAT?! Okay. Not sure what that means.

YES SISTER OKAY YES. NO SHIPPING. JUST SISTER. AND BROTHER.

Not sure that I like the change that recording brought. But. It’s okay I’ll accept it.

Evil gorl <3

SHES A DUCKIN NIGHTSISTER?!

WHYD she choose such a bland ass name then?!?!!

INQUISITOR?!!!

THATS AN INQUISITOR

SABINE IS NOT FORCE SENSITIVE *FUCK YOU* LITERALKY S4 OF REBELS CONFIRMED IT SO HARD THAT CHANGING IT WOULD MAKE THIS THE STUPIDEST THING EVER IN THE HISTORY OF STAR WARS

oh my god. Jesus that was force shit wasn’t it. Fuck that oh my fod DONT MAKE HER FORCE SENSITIVE YOU DUMB FUCKS. IM SO FUCKING MAD.

Haircut time?

No not yet.

That was CRAP dialogue. That was HORRIBLE. Wow. Oh my god fire these writers. So hard.

I do love this music tho. It’s p good.

Okay so far it does NOT make sense how ahsoka arrives at the tower at the end of rebels. This isn’t fair. I loved that scene so much.

Awww chopper drawing.

Okay she’s a puzzle maker now as well as an artist? That’s dumb

GOD SHES NOT. FORCE. SENSITIVE.

THIS IS SO FUCJING STUPID THIS IS DUMB!!!

SHES! NOT!! FORCE!!! SENSITIVE!!!!

And she’s gonna steal it isn’t she hehe she is def Ezra’s sister >:)

Huyang like “I taught this”

Luke so not the only jedi he was meant to be hehe I mean k get it. But also it’s so dumb 😂

SHE DID IT HEHE I LOVE U SABINE

Sad that they didn’t make Lothals mountains just like the ones in the real series.

Towerrr

Kittyyyy

WHAT JS KITTY NAME PLEAS TELL ME

callin him Turkeyleg until told otherwise

Sigh I miss Ezra.

Fucking miss Kanan. It still hurts so much.

It’s been so long does Sabine still hurt? Does she still miss him the way she used to?

Heraaaa hiii 🥰

Hera knows her daughter

Okay so why is holograms so. Sounding like this. It’s more… MORE. Than how they used to sound. Is technology worsening or some shit?? Don’t like that.

Ahsoka stop being MEAN TO MY SABINE.

Yeah SNIPS. Ha.

Heras greatest strength is that she is understanding above all else. And I love her sm for it.

FATHER SON DAUGHTER RIGHT

I better be

Palm hand fist…

Oh.

Okay fine.

Hhhh.

SHES SO SMART I LOVE HERRRRRR

Mr Tukeyleg

OH NO DONT HURT SABINE OR TURKEYLEG

Ah shit yeah I figured

Nothing will ever be easy for her. Nor for ezra.

HELMET

*HIS SABER*

SHES NOT FUCKING FORCE SENSITIVE OKAH

She can use a lightsaber and she can use the Darksaber BUT BY GOD SHE IS NOT FORCE SENSITIVE

Why are u flying so slow 😭

OH MY Fod

OH MY GOD NO SABINE

No not my girl 😭

Oh is that the end ep 1?

Oh who is Ray? Rest well, Ray <3

Ep two coming in a sec.

#star wars: ahsoka #spoilers

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