Cool, smooth leather touched his jaw—gloves. Because of course Obi-Wan had thought of that as well. “Quin,” Obi-Wan said, voice quiet, from somewhere on his left. “Are you ready?” “I thought you’d never get on with it,” Quinlan complained, but in truth he was already feeling more at peace. These moments together with Obi-Wan felt more akin to meditation than most might realize, or at least he’d always thought so.

When the Jedi pulls him out of the darkness, it feels like sunrise. There's no sense of coming awake, just light, just a brightening world, and when Hardcase opens his eyes there's a supernova standing above him, the wreckage of the facility drifting around her and catching the glow.

“Too slow, kid,” a voice calls, half a second before a pebble bounces off the top of Jon's head.

I know you,” Jaster says, low, and Jon freezes, halfway to his feet in the snow.

“Bring me the Joker’s head on a platter,” Jason says, and he doesn’t mean anything by it, not really. It’s the kind of thing he jokes about when he’s overwhelmed, and he’s overwhelmed by Tim a lot. Tim’s intensity makes Jason turn flippant, makes him counterweigh the seriousness with comments about his own torture and death, like that will somehow lighten the mood. Jason says all kinds of things, for all kinds of reasons. He doesn’t expect anyone to listen.

Using this Crochet Code by ThatAloneOne, with some modifications, I translated Lewis Carroll's poem "Jaberwocky" and made a scarf.