#DAVEY. ty ^_^

[daisychainsandbowties]

8, 17, 68

8. i have answered!

17. what do you do when writing becomes difficult? (maybe a lack of inspiration or writers block)

usually if i can’t write it’s because i’ve done the autism neglect thing again. a total lack of interoception means that i will sometimes go for too long without performing body-maintainence. so, when i’m struggling to write i go take a nap or i go outside or go get my ass kicked in karate.

i (for better or worse) have many different ideas on the go at any given time, so if one won’t happen for me i just switch to another, tap out little bits. usually doing that will let me trick myself into working on a story properly.

and of course sometimes i’m just not ready to write a scene. i think i’ve not been ready to write ligaments for a few months just because of what specifically i have to write, and also second-person being both addictive and difficult to transition too, with a totally different structure (in terms of how i have to think about composing sentences) than close third. sometimes a scene is too personal, or i don’t really understand the emotions in it enough to describe them, so i need to spend time dipping my hands in the blood of a scene to figure out what it’s made of.

mostly i do just need a nap

68. what, if anything, do you do for inspiration?

oh well my favourite form of inspiration is to just go and do some research. today it’s numismatics, dental science, king louis XIV. but sometimes that doesn’t work, or more often it’s useful when i’ve already got ideas.

i simply cannot plot anything out while i’m sitting still, so for that flavour of inspiration i go out walking in the plains, where you can stare all the way to the horizon or go visit the tower my dad used to abseil down the side of when he was sixteen. there, i’m under no pressure to think about anything at all, save not accidentally chasing sheep out into oncoming traffic (they are so stupid and so scared).

oh but probably the greatest source of inspiration itself comes from my friends and from communities i’m a part of. writing in isolation is something i find quite difficult, though i’ve done it before. it is by and large much more fun to write in a space where you can go on endlessly about your ideas to other people. inspiration from love or something i suppose.

[the-penguinspy]

28. “How long has it been since you’ve slept?” ava x lilith

ty for the prompt, em!! hope i do these two justice :)

//

Ava makes her way up the driveway while juggling the groceries in both arms, swearing as the bulky combo of winter coat, gloves, and heavy grocery bags lead to keys slipping from her grasp and colliding with a dull clink against the welcome mat. She does eventually manage to get in without further incident (zero grocery casualties this time!) and does a big internal fist-pump to celebrate. 

It’s dark inside, and she toes her shoes off and lines them up by the shoe rack as neatly as she can before heading into the kitchen. “Hello? Anyone home?” The bags are deposited on the countertop, Ava letting out a groan of relief as she shakes out her arms.

“Lil?” She flicks the lights on and the living room is washed in a warm glow, illuminating the empty couch and neatly stacked pile of reports left on the coffee table. Beatrice must have already left to drop off Libby for hockey practice. 

The door to the den is shut almost all the way but not firmly closed, and she sees how the light from inside makes its way out. Ah – still working then. The devil works hard, but Lilith on a mission works harder and is way scarier. Way hotter, too. 

Ava knocks on the door softly. A clearing of the throat and a raspy “come in” and she makes her way into the room at the invitation. Lilith’s focused on her laptop screen, papers askew on the desk and occupying every available space, and Ava spies the empty #1 Dad mug precariously close to the edge. Ava’s socks muffle her footsteps on the hardwood floor and she collects the mug before it gets swept off. 

“Hey, babe.” She bends and kisses Lilith on her cheek, Lilith turning her head for a brief peck before focusing once more on the screen in front of her. 

Ava squints at the page count on the screen. “How’s work going?” Lilith lets out a groan immediately, her immaculate posture collapsing as she slouches down in the seat and brings a hand up to rub at her eyes.

“I think I’m done. Goddamned clients keep changing the scope of the project on the fly, leaving me to pick up the pieces on an already-tight deadline.” Lilith’s free hand automatically reaches for her coffee – eyes still trained on the document in front of her – hand grasping at the air a few times before finally looking over and noticing that it’s gone. Her head jerks as she scans the desk for the mug and does a double-take once she notices its relocation to Ava’s hand.

It’s not often that Lilith is caught so off-kilter, and Ava is worried. Sure, Lilith’s used to a hectic work schedule, constant travel, and delicate meetings with clients and colleagues both, and yes she can handle herself well, has been handling it well for years, and Ava knows that Lilith knows her own limits. But Ava also knows that Lilith caught a red-eye the night before and came in early this morning, just barely greeting Ava and Beatrice with a kiss hello and a kiss on Libby’s cheek, one hand already loosening the knot of the tie at her neck before shutting herself into the den for work. 

“–final check before sending it off.” Ava blinks, coming back to the present and seeing Lilith straighten her back to start typing up a new email. Ava’s alarm bells ring all the louder when she witnesses the amount of words underlined in red, the computer’s auto-correct working overtime to bring the page back into grayscale. 

She rests a hand on Lilith’s shoulder and squeezes gently, grimacing as her thumb presses into an obvious knot at the junction where neck meets shoulder, and she mentally notes to give Lilith a back massage later. “Hey, Lil? When’s the last time you slept?” 

“Thirty-five hours ago,” Lilith replies without missing a beat, fingers flying over the keyboard as fast as the mistakes are popping up. Ava feels her eyes widen at that and – what the fuck. Yeah, this isn’t going to fly. She opens her mouth to say something but is beaten to the punch. “Don’t worry,” Lilith reassures, badly, “I took a one-hour nap on the flight home.”

Ava places the mug down on the floor near the wall and brings both hands to Lilith’s shoulders, kneading gently at the tight muscle there. Lilith continues working but eventually her typing slows, shoulders sagging and head hanging low as she sighs and mumbles, “Ava.”

“Yes?” Ava continues with the pressure, and a hiss escapes Lilith as Ava’s thumb presses into a particularly stubborn knot. “I have to get this out by tonight, Ava,” Lilith insists, but her voice sounds strained. The exhaustion finally seeps through her words, carried on the gentle wind of an exhale. 

Ava hums. “What’s on your agenda for tomorrow?” Lilith takes a moment to think, head still bowed. “Not much. Final once-over of my notes for my Monday meetings–” a quiet groan – “and then quality time with the family. But this has to go out by tonight so that the clients can look it over and give me the feedback in case they want to fucking change anything again–”

“Woah, hey, Lil! Let’s slow down for a sec.” Ava drops to a kneel, spins the chair around so that Lilith’s gaze is focused on her and away from the computer. “Your clients probably got off work–” Ava glances at the clock on the desk, winces– “two hours ago. It’s Friday night! They’re probably spending time with their family, or chillin’ by the TV, or going out getting wasted.” She smiles, reaches a hand for Lilith’s and swipes her thumb over Lilith’s knuckles. Lilith’s brows furrow, lips downturned, frown making its presence known. 

“Point is, it’s the weekend. Your colleagues and clients are most likely taking the weekend off to de-stress and focus on themselves. Their work is important and they’ll go back to work on Monday, check their emails and attend their meetings like the good little worker bees that they are–” Lilith chuckles weakly at this– “but until then, you’ve got time to relax.” The bags under Lilith’s eyes are prominent and Ava swallows hard past the lump in her throat. “Please, Lil,” she whispers. Maintains eye contact, brings Lilith’s hands to her lips, kisses the back of each. “For me?”

A slow exhale from Lilith, but the corner of her lips turn up the slightest bit. Ava smiles in response. Score. “You make a compelling argument, Silva,” Lilith says, an unscheduled yawn butting its way in between their conversation. Her hand comes up half a second too late to cover her mouth, exhaustion overriding even muscle memory. Cute, Ava thinks, as she stands and retrieves the mug for washing, placing a lingering kiss on the crown of Lilith’s head. “Go wash up, I’ll have dinner ready in a bit,” she says.

Ava makes to leave but feels Lilith’s arms wrap loosely around her thighs, feels Lilith’s forehead rest against her stomach, and she brings a hand up to the back of Lilith’s head as they hold each other. The pause only lasts a few seconds, but in that amount of time volcanoes could have erupted, tectonic plates could have shifted, galaxies could have collided, but all Ava would have noticed was the feel of Lilith’s soft breaths on her thin cotton t-shirt, the way the fabric fluttered against every shaky draw of breath, against every stuttered exhale. Fingers interlock behind Ava’s thighs to complete the circuit and send across the silent request for company. Difficult for Lilith to voice out loud, to let the words scrape their way out of her throat, but – this type of honesty is alright, too. 

Ava strokes her hand over Lilith's hair and kisses the top of her head once more for good measure. She’s just going to the kitchen, but a parting kiss for her departure nonetheless. For luck, for love, for everything in between. 

They’ll part eventually; two earphones finally untangled through patient fingers. Ava will leave to make the shepherd’s pie that Lilith so loves, and Lilith will come out of the shower, towel wrapped around herself with hair still dripping wet over the floor to kiss Ava in the kitchen, and Ava will laugh and pretend to be annoyed, these potatoes won’t mash themselves, Lil, but she’ll wrap her arms around Lilith’s neck and they’ll kiss for a fair bit before Lilith’s stomach grumbles as a reminder.

But for now, they stay in the moment, leaning against each other. A question and a reassurance in one. 

[birgittesilverbae]

Bealith: piercing

The buzz of Lilith's contraband phone skittering across her desktop sets Beatrice's teeth on edge. The discordant noise drives right through the whispered monotone of Beatrice's voice as she reads her notes back to herself.

"Can you turn that off, please?" she asks sharply after the third interruption.

"Hmm?" Lilith swivels in her desk chair, attention still fixed mostly on the cue cards in her hands.

"The phone," Beatrice clarifies. As if on cue, the phone vibrates a fourth time. Lilith pins it to the desk, but that only serves to make the sound more piercing. Beatrice rocks forwards and presses the pads of her thumbs into her temples. "Please," she grits out, almost an afterthought.

"It's just Shannon."

"It's not about who you're texting, it's–" Again, sharp and jarring, sending frissons of discomfort down her spine. She hunches in on herself, sucking in a shuddering breath, and shifts her thumbs to each tragus, pressing them firmly down over her ear canals.

Lilith's voice is muted, now, drawn quiet and unsteady through her plugged ears. "Bea?" A hand lands on Beatrice's shoulder, heavy and painful as it sparks at overstimulated nerves, and she flinches away so violently her elbow smashes against the edge of her desk. 

Lilith must retreat, but Beatrice pays her no heed, focusing instead on regulating her breathing, calming the rise and fall of her chest back down to a steady rhythm. She inhales deeply through her nose, allows herself to sit in the comfort of the stretch of her lungs, the firm press of her fingertips to her ears. Steady, steady, steady. Back to studying. She had to get back to studying. But the sheer noise of that phone vibration seems to have carved itself into Beatrice's bones.

There's contact again. Knee this time. Okay. Bearable. Beatrice cracks her eyes open, finds Lilith looking back at her, eyes sorrowful. Not pitying, at least. Small mercies. Lilith tentatively hefts the case she holds cradled in her lap, unzips it and tips it towards Beatrice. 

Beatrice's throat constricts ever so slightly, and she swallows hard against it, wets her lips. "For me?" she asks, her voice made distant, alien, even to herself. 

Lilith nods and frees the headphones from the case, unfolds them. May I?, she mouths, and Beatrice nods stiffly, letting her hands fall away from her ears.

Sound floods back in like a tidal wave in the moments before Lilith leans forward and slips the headphones over her ears and then–

Silence. Her mouth drops open and she touches a tentative hand to the shell of one earphone. Silence, blessed silence 

"Active noise cancellation," Lilith explains, her cheeks gone pink in the afternoon sun. "I'd hoped it would– They were meant to be your birthday–"

"Thank you," Beatrice cuts in, and Lilith's relief at the interruption is almost palpable. Beatrice reaches up to trace a finger over the plane of Lilith's cheek, follows the bow of Lilith's lips with her thumb. "Thank you."

[we-are-inevitable]

For the ask game: 7, 23?

7. Rare headcanons you hate?

racetrack higgins wouldn’t wear rainbow-washed outfits in modern era. i genuinely can’t think of anymore rare headcanons LMAO

23. Share a piece of a WIP.

from my new eldritch au!! a bit of exposition:

He learned to hunch his shoulders and keep his voice quiet and soft. The clothing he wore was too big, to hide what he could from the world. He sat in the back of classrooms so he wasn’t in anyone’s way- being a 5’8” sixth grader was difficult. It was hard to keep himself small.

But his dreams? They were big. The biggest thing about him, the thing he refused to shrink.

Like his dream to work on rocket ships, even though he knew there was a lot of math involved in that, and he’s not all too good at math. Numbers– they never meshed well with him. He didn’t understand them the way he could understand words. That led to his next dream: being a writer, an author, a storyteller. At seven years old, he wrote his first book, one about a kitten stuck in a tree and overcoming a fear of humans to accept help, and touch, and love. His mother liked it so much that she kept that book– one made of printer paper with shaky pencil handwriting and misspelled words and crooked staples– on their coffee table in the living room for years. She would boast about how her son was going to be a writer one day. His father thought it was cute and a fun hobby, until writing replaced any interest in sports, or cars, or hunting.

His third dream was a bit loftier. Make his father proud of him.

[jasperscringepit]

UNO REVERSE !! [music note]

HI HI DAVEY!!!!

You got Novels by Rusty Clanton!!!

It’s not exactly a line but this specific section is just <333

[daveyfvckingjacobs]

Happy prompts?! Fluff is my speciality 😍

SILLY FUN TIME HCs:

All the Newsies are welcome to join Jack in his penthouse if they can’t sleep. They will receive cuddles.

Idk where I saw this. This was probably already said here tbh but Jack just says the most random shit when he’s tired.

Race forgets to eat and Jack reminds him sometimes.

Delancey cuddles

Jack playing with people’s hands because he’s fascinated by them and getting frustrated when he can’t draw Davey’s right

Katherine/Davey reading to Jack to calm him down

Oscar holding Morris’s hand - 🤠anon

oh I love all these sm :(((((

cuddles and hand holding and them all being touchy is so <3

[angry-kid-with-no-money]

newsies abandoned house au for wip Wednesday :o

“Oh don’t be like that, it’s not dangerous. Maybe it’ll be a good hangout spot. Maybe we’ll find something cool!”

“What cool thing do you think we’re gonna find there Jackie? A dead body?” Davey regretted those words the second they came out of his mouth, he could practically feel Jack’s face lighting up.

[t-tex-edwards]

Back 33 years or so ago, The Hickoids’ Davy Jones (RIP) hosted a month of Tuesday open-mic jams at Austin's Continental Club with all his pals invited. I was in town visiting from L.A., so I was included. Here's a flyer he drew for that event… 

[daveys-tired]

May I please eat ur mcd oc like a sandwich (in a cannibalism way!! ❤️)

OUGHHHHH YES OF COURSE YOU MAY CANNIBALISM FTW

[i-didnt-do-1t]

@drinkin-cherryschnapps Ty for the request :)

Sarah Jacobs delivered lace almost every morning. or. the Sarah and Delancey’s run in goes a little differently

(I wrote something longish? shock horror. Enjoy!)

cw violence

__________

Sarah Jacobs delivered her lace every morning. There was always several piles of it to fix, things that got dirtied or caught in drawers or ripped. No matter how many hours she spent on it, how many times she accidentally stabbed her fingertip with the needle, there was always more.

She supposed she couldn’t complain; it was work and it was bringing money in, even if was very little, but anything helped at the moment with her father’s arm wrecked and David on strike. There was something almost satisfying about being the bread winner, her and her mother, even if neither of them could win an awful lot.

But that morning, basket full of mended lace and doilies, she knew she’d made a mistake by ignoring the looming figure she could feel following her.

The lace was knocked violently from her hands. the basket landing amongst the muck and dirt. It was at least a days pay.

Sarah didn’t feel angry often, it was an unfamiliar stirring in the base of her gut, but it was there.

And the boy that had knocked it from her smiled. Something that would’ve been handsome if it weren’t for how cruel it seemed, sharp at the edges, lazy. He stepped forward and her lace was under his shoes, ground further into the mud. Dirty and ruined and unusable. The backs of her eyes burned. She tipped her chin up. She should’ve know he was trouble when he’d mockingly tipped his cap at her, when he’d called her ma’am in way that felt like an insult.

“What do you want?” Her voice was surprisingly steady, even to herself.

“Just had to get your attention, doll.” He didn’t sound like he was from the city, accent placed somewhere distant and further south. “See I heard you know my pal Davey.”

Sarah could only assume this is one of the boys David had mentioned amongst his ramblings about the strike.

His grin was arrogant. She wanted to hit him.

But Sarah wasn’t stupid, she read the papers and talked to her father and other girls that did shifts in the factory like she picked up occasionally. She knew she wouldn’t be stronger than the boy, the man, in front of her, who didn’t look like he could be older than early twenties at best. He looked strong despite that, a scar cutting the corner of his lip, sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

She knew her next best option was to try and run.

She didn’t get far before an arm, big and sturdy, caught around her waist, and Sarah felt her feet just about lifted from the ground and the anger slowly started morphing to fear.

It was enough to have her kick out, to drag her stubbed nails along his forearms and aim the heel of her boots at his shins and legs. She could feel her heartbeat in her ears, the bones of his wrists digging in just under her ribs as his grip on her loosened and he swore under his breath, words that had Sarah flinching slightly. Her mother would wash her mouth out with soap if she spoke like that.

But his grip was loose. Nearly nonexistent when she kicked again, a low muttered “fuckin’ bitch” when she struggled harder and the back of her head connected to his face. It was enough to shove away from him, now a second man, hair a little longer, face gaunter, stood just behind him. His jaw gritted and his eyes hard; a glint in them like this was fun.

Her breath was in her throat, she could hear it in her own ears as she shakily inhaled and exhaled, taking a step back, away from them, as the one that had grabbed her pressed a hand to his nose. It came away red.

They weren’t on the main street anymore, he’d had her long enough to roughly turn them to a side alley, dark and desolate and filled with old crates and boxes.

Her jaw was hard, mirroring the tension she could feel twisting through her body, making her feel sick with adrenaline, and she curled her hand into a fist at her side. She knew not to tuck her knuckle. It was stupid, she knew, but her back was to the dead end behind her. There was no one to run, and the two of them, both tall, and strong and terrifying, were filling the mouth of the alley. There was only one way out.

“You stupid ape.” it was low, made the one on the left quirk his lip up before she threw the punch.

It all happened in quick succession. The punch and the crack and the burning pain through her knuckles and up her arm as her fist connected with the rough brick. The way she cried out when there was a hand suddenly in her hair dragging her further into the alley while the other bled, eyes dark as he swiped at his bloody nose with the back of his hand.

Pain radiated across her skull as her hair was tugged again, holding her in place.

“You alright, Oscar?”

The man in front of her scoffed, his teeth were tainted red, a rivulet of blood running past his mouth, just down his chin. She watched the way it blossomed when it dripped onto his off white shirt.

“I’m fine.” It was bitten out. Oscar, apparently, rolled his neck, glanced again at the red on the back of his hand. “Who knew Davey fuckin’ Jacob’s sister could throw a punch. Like a feral fuckin’ alley cat, ain’t you.”

Behind her, the other man snorted. Sarah was sure she was going to throw up.

“What do you think Mo. I know we was fixin’ to find him. But this one is a little more fun ain’t she.”

“What’d Davey call himself. A pacif- a pacifist?” the one behind her said, Mo apparently, speaking over her head, he stumbled over the words slightly. “He ain’t gonna fight back. And Christ it gets borin’ when folk don’t fight back.”

Oscar grinned and his teeth were red. “And he ain’t the one that near broke my nose.”

Her breaths were shaky, like her hands, her knuckles on one hand were scraped and spotting blood, and the grip on her hair just enough to keep her attention sharp and neck forced up at an awkward angle, painful despite the adrenaline

“Y’know last person that broke my nose was my da. And I did his knees in with a bat last week.” It was conversational as he advanced forward and Sarah found herself backed into the chest of the man behind her. “But families complicated, ain’t it? You’re older, right? Oldest kid in your house.”

As he got closer she could see the raised red lines on his forearms, below his shirt sleeves, where she had scratched at him, not bad enough to draw blood, but visible.

She swallowed, tried to keep her voice steady.

“Yes. I’m the oldest.”

His smile was like a sharks, sharp and out for blood.

“Me too.”

His arm shot out fast, before she had the time to react or pull away, and he grabbed her wrist. The other, her free one, was all of a sudden yanked behind her, twisted uncomfortably up her back between her shoulder blades. Oscar grip was hard enough she could already feel the bruises forming, the mess of her knuckles presented in front of her as he held her hand up.

“Jesus. Girls are so fuckin’ dainty.”

His hand was huge on her wrist, his nails dirty and blackened, fingers ink stained.

“Like your lace. You made that, didn’t you. Darned it or some shit.”

“You ruined it.” She was surprised at how bitter her tone was, high pitched and furious and afraid, half hoping someone would hear, but the street itself was loud and bustling and they’d dragged her so far back now. “All of that- it was worth a days pay-“

He laughed, his grip tightened and she winced, her other arm twisted up further behind her when she jerked at the pain.

“If that was a days worth of pay maybe your brothers should think about goin’ back to work.”

“They aren’t strike breakers-“

“Nah, they’re communists.”

His hand move up to her first, thumb digging between her knuckles to wrench it open. She winced again, the rough calluses of his hands against the raw skin of her knuckles.

“Cept you ain’t gonna be makin’ no money if you can’t sew, right? Sounds real hard to do with broken fingers.”

Her blood went cold.

For a second it felt like time stopped as the implication fell over her.

She opened her mouth to yell, hoped that someone would hear her over the bustling of the street but a hand from behind her was slammed over her mouth before she could get the sound out. It was large and callused, and between the panic and the way it effortlessly covered half her face, breathing became near impossible, her lungs felt tight.

She could feel her eyes blown wide despite the way her vision darkened at the edges, a wave of nausea hit her and she jerked again, an attempt to buck off the hand that only cause him to twist her other arm further up her back.

She cried out, it was muffled. Her eyes burned.

“Two or three fingers Mo. How many you gotta use to hold a needle.”

The answer sounded bored, careless. “Save yourself the trouble and do the whole hand.”

She kicked again, and her heel connected with Morris’s shin. His grip did the opposite of loosen, tightening painfully around the lower half of her face with a mutter of “motherfucker,” before he raised his voice.

“Christ Os, just fuckin’ do it before she fuckin’ bites me or some shit.”

There was no warning. She felt the sharp hot pain before she heard the crack, hand numb aside from the throbbing heartbeat in her finger. Everything around her went quiet, a white noise muffling her ears as her visions blinked to black before coming back in a haze of pain. Her cheeks were wet, the hand against her mouth wet with tears.

“Fuckin’ tiny hands.”

She sobbed-

Then the white hot pain again. Like a shot of lightning through her hand.

She didn’t remember fainting but she must’ve, vision turning black and body slumping and arm twisting as Morris moved to try and catch her before she fell bad enough that her shoulder dislocated with the way it was pinned up her back. His hand had to move from her mouth but there was no chance she could make a noise loud enough to get attention if she tried.

“Ah shit. She out?”

Morris adjusted his grip to stop her from falling.

“Christ. Yeah.”

She was only vaguely aware as she was laid against one of the crates, back propped up against the brick. Between her blurring spotted vision, lightheaded and dizzy, she could make out two of her fingers, mottled black and blue. Her hand almost numb with how much it hurt.

Like white heat, so hot it burnt cold.

“What do we do now.”

“Tell Jacobs. Maybe he’ll go back to fuckin’ work. And Kelly’ll fuck off out west.”

Through her blurred vision, and the strands of loose hair in her face, Sarah watched as Oscar nudged at the lace on the ground with his foot till he found a clean one, less mud stained than the rest. He leant down and tucked it in his pocket.

Their voices got quieter as they reached the mouth of the alley.

“…is your nose still bleeding-“

“Shut the fuck up, Morris.”

[daisychainsandbowties]

🏅💻 ✨ (but compliment)

oh no the fact that 🏅 and 💻 are answered and i'm left with the only one that makes me want to play drums with my rib bones. and yes thank you it's compliment not complement. i am not adding garlic to my writing. too much gay shit in there already.

✨ choose three adjectives to compliment your own writing

i'm going to compliment my poetry specifically since nobody here has read any of that, & all i can think of for my fic is 'bloody', which is a great compliment from me, but a bit like cheating.

for my poetry i'd say it's: intelligent, muscular, & honest

[lesbianjackies]

❤︎︎ character list ❤︎︎

key: bolded - characters i enjoy writing for | italics - characters i’ve written for before

❥ 10 things i hate about you

cameron james, kat stratford, bianca stratford, patrick verona, michael eckman, mandella

❥ marvel

natasha romanoff, bucky barnes, steve rogers, carol danvers, stephen strange, sam wilson, gamora, gwen stacy, tony stark, kate bishop, loki laufeyson, may parker, peter parker (tasm & mcu), peter quill, pietro maximoff, wanda maximoff, thor odinson, yelena belova

❥ pirates of the caribbean

jack sparrow, will turner, elizabeth swann

❥ grishaverse

alina starkov, the darkling / aleksander morozova, malyen oretsev, genya safin, david kostyk, zoya nazyalensky, nikolai lantsov, kaz brekker, inej ghafa, jesper fahey, nina zenik, matthias helvar, wylan van eck

❥ the school for good and evil

agatha of woods beyond, sophie of woods beyond, tedros of camelot, hort of bloodbrook, hester of ravenswood, anadil of bloodbrook, dot of nottingham, rafal

note: sophie x hort x reader is a fav

❥ the hunger games

katniss everdeen, peeta mellark, gale hawthorne, haymitch abernathy, finnick odair, johanna mason

❥ harry potter

harry potter, ron weasley, hermione granger, ginny weasley, fred weasley, george weasley, draco malfoy, neville longbottom, luna lovegood, cedric diggory, oliver wood, theodore nott, daphne greengrass, blaise zabini, tom riddle, james potter, sirius black, remus lupin, lily evans, regulus black, mary macdonald, dorcas meadowes, marlene mckinnon

❥ miss peregrine’s home for peculiar children

jacob portman, emma bloom, enoch o’connor (MOVIE ONLY), olive abroholos elephanta (MOVIE ONLY), millard nullings (BOOK ONLY), hugh apiston (BOOK ONLY), fiona frauenfeld (BOOK ONLY), bronwyn bruntley (BOOK ONLY)

note: i will write for book- or movieverse jacob & emma. please specify which you would like when requesting or i will default to bookverse.

❥ shatter me

juliette ferrars, aaron warner, kenji kishimoto, nazeera ibrahim

❥ the folk of the air

jude duarte, cardan greenbriar

❥ percy jackson

percy jackson, annabeth chase, grover underwood, thalia grace, jason grace, piper mclean, leo valdez, frank zhang, reyna avila ramirez arellano

❥ avatar: the last airbender

katara, sokka, zuko, azula, mai, ty lee

❥ a series of unfortunate events

violet baudelaire, klaus baudelaire, duncan quagmire, isadora quagmire, quigley quagmire

❥ newsies

jack kelly, davey jacobs, katherine pulitzer, crutchie morris, spot conlon

❥ frankenstein

victor frankenstein, the monster, elizabeth lavenza, henry clerval

❥ little women

jo march, meg march, beth march, amy march, theodore laurence

❥ star wars

anakin skywalker, obi-wan kenobi, padme amidala, luke skywalker, leia organa, han solo, rey, finn, kylo ren, poe dameron

❥ my babysitter’s a vampire

ethan morgan, benny weir, sarah fox, rory keaner, erica jones

❥ yellowjackets

shauna shipman, lottie matthews, misty quigley, taissa turner, van palmer, natalie scatorccio, jackie taylor, laura lee, mari, akilah, jeff sadecki

[suniani]

REPOST BECAUSE MY WIFI IS DUMB AND STUPID AND HALF OF MY PREV POST DIDN'T LOAD!! i deleted it in a panic so the ask is gone as well but ty @morgansplace for reminding me to draw this, i in fact did start that morning but i draw very slowly lmao 😭

credits to @ajstaria and @sillyguymilooooo for these posts, i found them so funny i had to draw them

art tag: @redobutton , @daveys-angel , @anthrokiaera , @itsdaifuku , @milosirlgf , @teaseat

if you want me to add you to the tag you can dm me!!

(idk what possessed me to put guy in that shirt i just saw it on pinterest and said 'this is guy core')

[we-are-inevitable]

what role would davey occupy/embody in the apocalypse. like zombie style apocalypse -@jack-kellys

lame answer? he’s the strategist. he’s the one making the plans, he’s the one keeping track of all the maps and writing down everything that happens to them. if they make it out on the other side of this, someone has to have an accurate record of what happened, when it happened, who started this… the government sure as fuck won’t be keeping track like this, and if davey is going to help jack lead their ragtag group of misfits to safety (wherever that may be, whatever that may mean),then he has to have all of the information. everything he knows is written down, and if they lose him, they lose their chances of survival. he knows pathways and safe havens because he listens, and he reasons, and he compiles all of this information to… what, to lead better? to pass on when he dies? to be buried with, to destroy when he loses control of his body and becomes the monster they’re facing? he doesn’t know. he doesn’t care. all he knows is that he has some answers, some information to fall back on, and that’s all that matters. knowledge is power, after all.

better answer? he’s an older brother.

LISTEN okay i know this is going to feel a bit like mom friend davey and i HATE mom friend davey but bear with me. david is a hardass. he’s stubborn, he’s mean, but he cares and wants to make sure that everyone is safe and accounted for. you may be wondering, “jac, what? this sounds like jack kelly, not david jacobs!”

and you would be correct.

see, bc jack and davey are Both the older familial figures— but i would argue that jack takes on a more parental role than david does, as he’s much more nurturing and personal with everyone. and where jack is led by righteous anger and desperation for a better tomorrow, david is led by a blinding hope he can’t part with and the grief of the past. they’re both hurting. both leading. both protecting. davey has a log of every death and every incident and every fight and turf war and outbreak— and yet he’s still the one begging the group to push forward, whether he’s pleading or screaming orders. he’s the one trying so hard to find a safe haven when everything goes to shit again. he’s suffered loss, he knows what it means to fall from his place of privilege, and he’s doing everything he can to make sure the others don’t suffer the same way. he’s the older brother who takes the world on his shoulders. he’s the older brother that argues, that fights, that teaches lessons and protects his family with his life, even if he struggles along the way. he’s the older brother who picks up the slack and does the dirty work and makes the plans because no one else is stepping up, even when he’s in desperate need of a break, even when he’s knee deep in a meltdown, even when he doesn’t want to wake up in the morning.

before anything else, david jacobs is the older brother. being the one to navigate everyone through this new forever just comes with the job, he supposes.

[bluespecs14]

Threads and Bandages

Summary: Davey asks his sister for help to make a gift for Reader.

Warnings: mentions of bandages and (sewing) stitches, possibly ooc characters, use of (Y/N)

Word count: 1,008 words

-----

“Sarah, I need your help” Davey suddenly announces, breaking the silence in the room.

The girl raises an inquisitive eyebrow, “help with what?”

He goes to sit beside Sarah, pausing to take a breath before speaking again, voice shy but determined, “I want you to teach me how to embroider, please”

Sarah stares at her brother, surprised, before adopting a teasing smirk, “why? You want to make (Y/N) a gift?”

Davey straightens his back, becoming more resolved, “yes, actually. I wanna embroider a handkerchief for her”

“aww look at you being all sweet” Sarah teases, giggling as Davey throws her a look, his cheeks and ears tinged pink. “alright, alright, I’ll help you. Do you have an idea on the design?”

“yeah, I read some books on embroidery designs and took some inspiration from them,” he pulls out a scrap piece of paper from his pocket. It was littered with half-finished doodles of swirls, flowers, and stylized initials. One in particular looked finished, although the marks of repeatedly erased lines, replaced by bolder pencil strokes, were evident, “I also asked for some tips from Buttons and this is what I came up with” he says, angling the paper into Sarah’s sight and pointing at the finished design.

She takes the paper from him and looks at the design closely. (Y/N)’s initials were lined with swooping lines and foliage, some flower petals and leaves making up some of the letters’ structure, making them take on a pattern that was typical of the embroidery designs of the time but at the same time very personalized. Under the initials was a simple bouquet of leaves, vines and flowers, the vines curling around the letters in a circular pattern, effectively making a wreath, the flowers helping to add more detail.

Sarah makes a sound of approval as she finishes studying the sketch, “it might take some time to finish because you’re inexperienced, so I hope you’re not planning on giving it to her anytime soon.”

Davey nods, “I understand but I do want to give it to her as soon as possible”

Sarah smiles softly at him, “alright then, we better get started right away”

For the next few weeks, in his spare time, Davey learns the necessary stitches on a small piece of fabric with Sarah’s guidance. Eventually, their mother starts to help her daughter teach her son. When they deemed him ready, they instructed him to start on the actual handkerchief. Davey worked tirelessly, stitch after stitch, his fingers slowly being covered by bandages.

Weeks later, with the final stitch sewed on, Davey secures it and snips off the thread. In his hands lay the product of his efforts. His mother and sister sit with him, pride in their eyes as they watch him carefully pack the finished handkerchief into a small box and tying it with a ribbon, a smile on his face and excitement blazing in his eyes.

“Thank you, mom, Sarah, for the help, I really appreciate it” he says with a smile, placing a kiss on his mom’s head, “I’m heading out to the theater, I’ll be home later”

Grabbing the box, he leaves. As he heads to the theater, he thinks of what her reaction will be. He stops at the back entrance, nervousness filling his body. He shakes it off and enters, sending greetings to the staff he comes across as he walks to where he knew she’d be. The staff, already used to his presence in the theater at this point, greets him back.

Arriving at the sewing room, Davey knocks on the door, patiently waiting with his hands behind his back, hiding the present from her sight. A smile makes its way onto his face as she opens the door.

“Davey!” (Y/N) exclaims happily, “this is a pleasant surprise, I wasn’t expecting you, come in” she says after kissing his cheek, pulling him inside the room.

“Sorry for coming without warning but I wanted to give you this right away” he presents the box to her and opens it revealing the handkerchief.

She takes it out of the box with wide, wonder and joy-filled eyes, “did you make this?” she asks, looking at the embroidery closely, before looking up at him.

“Sarah and my mom taught me, but yeah I sewed all of it so some of the stitches are a bit crooked” he says sheepishly, “it’s not anywhere near what you can do but I tried my best”

“I love it and its beautiful Davey, thank you so much” she says before pulling him into a tight hug, her smile wide and her happiness palpable.

“I’m glad you like it” he replies, hugging her back as he mirrors her smile.

As they pull away, she glances at his hands. Taking a better look, (Y/N) frowns. Her gaze flits from his eyes to his hands, she makes a face full of understanding, knowing the pain all too well. Wordlessly, she kisses his bandage covered hands making his heart melt. Davey takes his hand away from hers and caresses her face as he smiles down at her. She winds her arms around his neck, leaning up and placing a kiss on his lips, one he immediately reciprocates.

“I love you” she whispers once they pull away.

“I love you too” he replies, his forehead resting on hers.

-----

Note: so this is a bit of a mix between livesies and 1992sies bc sarah but I was thinking of livesies!davey while writing. sorry if the characters are ooc, esp for davey and sarah. sorry if the ending was a bit flat, im still on a bit of a writing slump but i had some motivation to write and I didn’t wanna waste it. i was thinking of this being a side fic for the longer fic im still working on but it could still be its own thing. also I don’t know if i did the warnings right so if I could have done it better please let me know.

thanks for reading :>

[loiteringandlurking]

tell me soft javey thinks….

in exchange for a picture of a jemlyfish

TEEHEEEEEE TY FOR THE JEMLYFISH! here r your javey thinks .......

jack cold at night, and davey's working late at a bar :( jack can't sleep, Davey n him aren't dating yet .... but davey comes home bone tired, he sees jack shivering .... he snuggles up .... they sleep .... jack is all giggly and davey is too tired to notice or care ...

and also consider jack leaning on davey and slowly falling asleep on his shoulder while he reads davey's book ....

and also consider jack biting davey because he has no other way to externalise affection .....