Text
cannot sleeeeeep. one of those lonely nights when I know I need to be up early, but I finished a delicious book, and I want someone to annoy beside me.
boo
0 notes
Text
Tim Daly attends the The Creative Coalition's 2025 Spotlight Initiative Awards & Reception at United Lodge on Main on January 26, 2025 in Park City, Utah.
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
may or may not have written chapter 7 of In His Arms right after writing chapter 6
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Téa with a fan on the subway in 2024 (via TikTok @/carltonjumelsmith)
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
Tim Daly at Sundance 2025 (via @/emilyglasswoman on Instagram)
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
Tim Daly at Sundance 2025 (via Getty Images)
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Elizabeth | Before Extraction – Nine Years
She glanced at the scoreboard—this was their shot. Just one more point and they'd be tied for overtime, and she knew exactly the route she was going to take if she just could get ahold of the ball. Coach told her a different route, the team was set up for something different, but Elizabeth looked at the senior on the team, Jenny, and they nodded at each other.
Jenny had taken Elizabeth under her wing immediately, the senior and the freshman getting along better than anyone else, and they played together like they'd been playing on the same team for years. In reality, Elizabeth hadn't ever played with someone so challenging as Jenny. She thought outside the box, she didn't always follow what the coach said but it always worked. She was smart, she knew what her defenders were doing before they even knew what they were doing. Elizabeth liked that.
She ran along once the ref whistled, and soon enough, Jenny was getting the ball to Elizabeth. Her feet felt like they were floating as she sprinted toward the goal, a defender hot on her trail and Jenny defending Elizabeth. She was watching the ball carefully and watching the goal, shifting her eyes back and forth between the blur of her feet and the net now in kicking distance.
Maneuvering to the left quickly to lose the defender, she took her shot—straight in. The crowd cheered, but Elizabeth was on the ground in pain, and the defender was getting up off of her and apologizing. "Are you alright?" She'd ask, but Elizabeth was holding her leg and writhing in the grass.
Jenny was standing over her yelling for the coach, and before her coach ever got there her parents were standing there, too.
"Elizabeth, honey, what's hurting?" Her mom's voice brought her back to reality, back to the one without pain at least, so maybe not reality at all. Her mom always had a way of doing that—it was like her voice immediately calmed her down somehow.
2 notes
·
View notes
Photo
elizabeth and henry in every episode - 1x07 Passage
105 notes
·
View notes
Text
Elizabeth | Before Extraction – 40 Hours
After the men had hauled her off the floor and dragged her through the labyrinth of the hotel halls, they blindfolded and gagged her and loaded her into a vehicle. She had no idea where she was, but she counted the turns they made each time she swayed. Right turn, right turn, left…right. Even if she had been able to see, she wasn't sure how well she could've seen—everything seemed so blurry from being tased. She hadn't felt pain like that in years.
When they came to a stop, the men grabbed her arms, squeezing their fingers unnecessarily tight into her skin—her hands were zip tied, what did they think she was going to do? Her feet hit the ground and she winced in pain, almost crying out through the gag, but she stopped herself. Her ankle started throbbing immediately, and she hadn't even realized how badly it had been hurting the whole ride here—wherever "here" was.
"You should have stayed at the party," she heard a voice say, and she tried to make out who it was—it didn't sound like Hariri. "But I suppose it's fitting that the little mouse ran right into the trap."
With those words, she wanted to fight—she wanted to die fighting. She knew if she'd tried to fight she would certainly die, but something inside her told her it was okay. She'd go out that way and be fine with it. Inside her head, there was this terrible tension aside from the headache. A tension that caused herself to feel pulled two ways: stand and fight and die, or go along with what they do and say and hope that the CIA will pull her out.
Her chest heaved as they pushed her forward suddenly, and she tripped over something and heard a metal clank, realizing she was on a ramp.
The plane ride was long and dreary. She wasn't sure how long she was on there, but it was long enough that she almost fell asleep even with all the adrenaline coursing through her. They had her tied in the back somewhere, she could tell because they'd walked a long way until they shoved her down. The entire ride, though, she cursed herself for letting her cover be blown. She'd known she was in too deep, but she didn't know that until it was too late.
(continue with link above:))
1 note
·
View note
Text
I hadn’t watched season 2 of The Night Agent before writing “In His Arms” and I’m cracked up that they’re both about extractions.
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
nobody talks about how much of writing is just you staring at a blank document, begging your brain for one good sentence.
977 notes
·
View notes
Text
“She had written something that felt like I could have written it, except I knew I couldn't have. I wouldn't have come up with something like that. Which is what we all want from art, isn't it? When someone pins down something that feels like it lives inside us? Takes a piece of your heart out and shows it to you? It's like they are introducing you to a part of yourself.”
—Taylor Jenkins Reid, Daisy Jones and The Six
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
Henry | Post-Extraction – 42 Hours
They told him not to get up. They told him to stay in the bed, that he had a catheter for a reason, that he needed to stay the hell in bed.
When his feet touched the floor in those grippy socks, he felt an inch of freedom, though he had to sit back down immediately after getting up much too fast.
His hands rested beside his hips on the bed, steadying himself as he felt a bit dizzy. The concussion, he'd found out, was one of the worst in severity that one could possibly have unless they had broken their skull. The doctor assured him, though, that he had not broken his skull and that the concussion symptoms should be better with rest.
But he couldn't rest—he was completely restless because he was, ultimately, bored. Every time someone told him to rest, he cringed. He hadn't joined the Marines to rest, he joined the Marines to make a difference.
And then his brain would trail off into the thoughts of how he could possibly make a difference when there were situations like Lacey—leaving a man behind just because it was too dangerous to get him out. The thought made his chest ache, made the cracked spot in his ribs pound. I should've been the one to be left, he thought over and over, not the man with a family. Not the one with a wife who he'd probably promised he'd come home.
His feet were still resting against the floor when he pushed off the bed again, trying to gain some strength in his legs. It hadn't even been a full forty-eight hours since the mission, but his legs had become two useless sticks over the past days as they felt like they were made of jelly and water. Sarah told him that all the morphine would do that to him, that he was so doped up on pain medication that he'd be feeling that way for a few days at the very least.
He held onto the bedrail as he put all his weight on two feet finally, his body groaning in protest. His ribs ached loudly, and he shut his eyes to try and take a deep breath, though it just hurt more to do so. He squeezed the railing and opened his eyes back, breathing controlled breaths through his nose and focusing on one spot in the wall—if he only focused on one spot, his head hurt a little less.
(continue above:))
3 notes
·
View notes
Photo
favourite elizabeth moments → 152. “What does it feel like?” (2.01 The Show Must Go On)
119 notes
·
View notes
Photo
elizabeth and henry aka television’s best married couple, ever
334 notes
·
View notes
Text
Before Extraction – Three Years
Henry sighed as he scooted the knot up his tie and close to his throat, almost choking himself from not paying attention. He'd been too busy staring off into the picture frame his mother had freshly hung on the dining room wall.
Graduation hadn't seemed that long ago until he looked at this picture and realized how much time had gone by in these two months. That twenty-two-year-old boy being commissioned as a Second Lieutenant in front of his family and his classmates seemed so bright-eyed and ready to tackle the world. The reflection staring back at him in the glass of that frame did not seem so bright-eyed and ready to tackle the world, however.
He stepped backwards and bumped his heel into the duffle bag on the floor, already forgetting he'd set it down there to fix his tie. The house was quiet this morning, and he was almost glad for it—he couldn't miss the noise if there wasn't any to miss. Shane and Erin were away for the weekend, both going on trips with friends for the Fourth of July, and Maureen had come over to say goodbye to him last night with his nephew in tow. It was a quick one, but he was surprised she'd even come at all.
His mom had been behind him cooking a breakfast that she insisted on, even though he argued he really wasn't hungry at all. The appetite he could've had this morning had withered away after the fight with his dad last night. He was nervous enough leaving for basic before the fight, but by the time Patrick McCord had called him Johnny Combat, Henry's blood had boiled too much to even think about food this morning.
His dad had never quite understood why Henry joined the Marines, and he's not sure he ever really even tried to understand it, either. It wasn't only to piss him off and to get money for college, but also because he felt like he had a duty to serve his country. He'd tried to explain that to Patrick ever since he joined the ROTC at UVA, but every time he tried to talk to him, Patrick simply wouldn't listen.
Last night, though, Patrick struck a new chord with him when he said, "You think running off to war is going to make you a man?" His breath had smelled like beer, but Henry didn't take a step back. He never could when it came to his old man. He always stood and fought him even when he got in trouble for it. "It's just going to turn you into another cog in their machine, Johnny Combat."
(continue with link above:))
2 notes
·
View notes