david haven


Anything music related
High school marching bands
Marching bands in general
Awesome concert band stuff
Such as music ^
Colour guard pictures
Horn line pictures
Drum line pictures
Front ensemble pictures

Literally anything that has to do with band.



Gillovny RPF

Hugs and kisses to the great @becksndot5 and @ilove-gillian. Thank you so much for encouraging me everyday to make these two suffer again and again :D I love you, girls, thank you for your advice and inputs! And thank you so so so so much to @sembell for your time, for correcting my many mistakes and for being an inspiration. <3

Rated : It’s rated Explicit, but it’s mostly angst.

Words: 9225 (6 chapters under the cut, this is long!)

Summary: David and Gillian haven’t seen each other for a year, since last summer, on set. He rarely called and she hardly picked up. So when he learns she’s in New York, he feels the need to see her. Unfortunately, things won’t turn as well as he wished.

This is fiction.

Chapter 1 : Writer’s block

His daughter told him once the internet isn’t good for him. It made him laugh, but she’d never been so right in her short life. He wanted to find the exact address of this restaurant he had dinner in earlier this week in Tribeca, and ended up watching pictures of her at a luncheon event in this same restaurant. She’s here, in town, and she didn’t bother to tell him. She looks dazzling on the pictures, her blond curls flowing over the white skin of her shoulders. She has lost weight, which he doesn’t care but he knows it’s never a good sign for her. She looks happy though, and seems to be enjoying herself around all these talented women. Good for her, he thinks.

That’s what their relationship is now. Work, only work. They’re colleagues, nothing else. No matter how many times they’d tried to make their relationship work, one of them was always unhappy. The last time had been last year, during the summer. Working together again had necessarily brought back tons and tons of deeply buried feelings, passion and frustration - with the slight difference they were now both single. So they tried again, because it seems like it’s what they’re condemn to do over and over. But fate was taking her away from him most of the time. Unfortunately, she had to travel back home more often than she’d expected to, and the little time she was actually there, he had to be somewhere else too. It was as if the universe was against them.

Deep down, he knows they hadn’t tried hard enough. He should have followed her. She could have come with him. They could have talked about it, discussed their issues instead of fucking them away and hide them under lust and weakness.

At the end of the summer, he left her with a promise of coming to see her in London a few days after. He never did, and she never asked. It’s been a year. Twelve long months of missed occasions, regretted phone calls and ashamed sext-messages at 3am feeling lonely in his empty New-York apartment.

After a few minutes, he finds out she’s here for a week, at least. After the anger that she deliberately hadn’t told him passed, he knows he must do something. Call her, maybe. But to tell her what? That he misses her, wants to see her, hates her for not telling him, but he also loves her and he can’t do anything against that? He doesn’t want to sound too desperate, and that’s usually what she reduces him to. He’s a writer, he should write. Send her a text. He can take his time, weight every word, think about what he wants to make her feel. He stares at his phone for long minutes, his two thumbs ready to tap on the screen, but nothing comes. He feels like he’s experiencing a writer’s block for the first time. Finally, after five minutes of painful hesitation, he manages to write three letters: “Hey.”

The ten long seconds following his text are the exact reason why he hates technology. It says way too much about people. He liked it when the screen of his phone was only black and white and he didn’t know when or where his messages were read. But it’s 2016, and he’s staring at the three dots showing up and disappearing endlessly every time she changes her answer.

“Hey,” he finally receives.

They know each other for twenty five years, they’ve both written at least two books and all they can come up with is “Hey.” How can he think they can make it work again? How will they be able to come back to the time they were happy together, twenty years ago, when she was naked and beautifully asleep in his arms before he fucked everything up?

“How’s Tribeca?”

Oh, for God’s sake! How old is he? Twelve? Man-up, Duchovny! he tells himself. Tell her, tell her everything. Tell her she’s breathtaking on these pictures, tell her you want to be next to her, tell her you want to smell her perfume in her neck, breathe her shampoo in her hair, tell her you want to hold her, kiss her. Everywhere. All the time. Tell her she means the world to you and you will never let her go again!

“Windy. How’s Manhattan?”


She used to tease him because he’d never been good at small talk, but this is beyond, and this has lasted too long already. He doesn’t second guess himself and decides to go straight to the point.

“Wanna come over tonight?”

“I can’t. I’m not free.”

“Okay. Tomorrow?”

“No, I mean… I’m not… FREE…”

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Did you all know that there is a pirate comedy film, featuring some Monty Python folks, called Yellowbeard, released 1983 (when Sherlock would have been 6 years old)?

Look who is listed as co-writer:

Yellowbeard is a 1983 British comedy film directed by Mel Damski and written by Graham Chapman, Peter Cook, Bernard McKenna, and David Sherlock.

I haven’t seen the movie, but this is its plot: The pirate Yellowbeard (Chapman) is incarcerated for 20 years for tax evasion. He survives the sentence but has not disclosed the whereabouts of his vast treasure. The Royal Navy hatches a plot to increase his sentence by 140 years, knowing that he will escape to set out for his treasure. He does so, recruiting a motley crew of companions. He had left a map of the treasure in the chimney of his wife’s pub, but she burned it. She then tells Yellowbeard that she had the map tattooed on their son’s head. Things go wrong when his traitorous former bosun Mr. Moon (Boyle) takes over the ship. With the Head of the British Secret Service (Idle) hot on their trail, they eventually find the island, where the terrible despot “El Nebuloso” and his majordomo “El Segundo” (Cheech and Chong) have taken residence with the treasure, and the battle for the prize commences.

John Cleese described Yellowbeard as “one of the six worst films made in the history of the world.” As I said, I haven’t seen it, but I remember people talking about it back then, and how truly awful it was… (Like TFP?)

So, we have:

  • A hidden treasue (AGRA)
  • Mr Moon = Mary (claire de lune)
  • A map on (not in) a son’s head (Sherlock’s MP)
  • The British Secret Service (Mycroft)
  • An Island (Sherrinford)
  • El Nebuloso (Smoke, something foggy = Eurus?)
  • El Segundo = The secod = Sherlock!

Oh, and look, this is Yellowbeard:

Looks a bit like Mycroft in fisherman disguise, don’t you think?

BTW, David Bowie plays a character called Shark in the movie.

There even seems to be a character called Rosie in it.

I don’t know if this means anything, but still, some fun facts…

And just imagine, little Sherlock watching this film as a child. He always wanted to be a pirate… could he years later incorporate some of those characters into an elaborate MP scenario, which is what we’ve seen in his EMP since HLV or even prior?

@ebaeschnbliah @gosherlocked @yan-yae @loveismyrevolution @monikakrasnorada


If you haven’t watched The Image with 1969 David Bowie please watch it because what did I just witness

I’m gonna go on a little rant

Lately, I’ve been feeling as if all my opinions have become unpopular in this fandom. Apparently, the cool thing now is to stalk the new kid, make update accounts for him, pester him on social media until he goes on private and then, on the same day, preach about ‘leaving the cast alone’ and how ‘these are just kids’. Exactly. So why don’t you practice what you preach then? Yousef is even younger than Tarjei and David and you haven’t even really seen him act. Why do you think he needs a fanbase of his own? How about focusing on the characters, who are fictional and, you know, made exactly for that purpose? Actors, especially Skam actors, are not for you to creepily obsess over and bother ‘till they can’t take it anymore.


Sorry I haven’t posted anything in forever but I dreamt about Bowie and I woke up with a tear stained face so I thought it appropriate to post something for my baby❤️✨🌟 I love and miss you my darling💞😓

“All right…   I put the fire out and a rug over the burn mark.  Now that that is cleaned up, maybe I can salvage my relationship as well.  Don’t think I didn’t see any of you telling David about this. 

“I haven’t a damn clue how this is going to work out if I keep having you lot muck everything up, and keep screwing with me and now him.  He cannot handle anything sudden or out of the ordinary.  You all damn near caused him a panic attack o-or something!  At first, I was worried about something about me scaring him off, but now….  

“I’m done for tonight.  I need to….  Do….  Something….”

[Magic Anon: Child’s Play - The End]

You’re Mine, And I’m Yours Luke Imagine

Originally posted by 5secondsosgifs

5-seconds-of-talent said: Can u write a badboy luke one? Like how you are insecure because of how many girls flirt with him? Please i am telling you this because you are an amazing writer

You walk out of school and frown harshly when you see Luke surrounded by more girls than usual. The term ‘usual’ causing a your heart to sink a little.

“You okay?” Your friend Anastasia asks appearing next to you.

“Yeah I’m good,” You answer, your eyes never leaving Luke and the crowd of girls. He was enjoying it, you could tell by the lip bite and the smirk that never left his face.

“He loves you, you know?”

“He’s never said it.”

“Then you’re blind, because he looks at you like he loves you.”

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starman / david bowie

(still haven’t been able to really process this. goodbye to a man who’s inspired, driven, and excited me. goodbye to a legend. goodbye to a friend. goodbye to a very special starman. I hope one day I’ll be able to meet you; I think you’ll really blow my mind. rest easy, david bowie ⚡️)