#fail in inheritence

[elegie0-0]

Gil-galad: atar why u have black hair, Maitimo has red hair while i have blonde… am i adopted?

Fingon: how would u think like that! my sweet idiot, ur hair is inherited from my gold wire!

[shallowseeker]

when jack said "can you tell them i'm sorry" about the angels being angry i fell in love with him as a character. he's just a little guy!!!

Imagine. You're a new life and one of your earlier emotions? Being sorry.

After hearing angelic voices, perhaps he's hearing their anger, their panic... and he's sorry for being born. Or perhaps he's just sorry for hurting the people who'd been kind to him, for the people caught up in his out-of-control power.

//

//

///

[Sam is also visibly relieved, as Jack sits on the cot opposite him and folds his legs up criss cross applesauce style] JACK: I'm sorry. SAM (confused): What? JACK: Will you tell them that I'm sorry? SAM: Yeah. Sure. Of course. (long pause) 13x01

///

Then Jack gets stabbed and:

...is confused, then horrified.

After all, the other person who got stabbed this episode?

Not exactly fine.

Jack looks on as Sheriff Barker rushes Clark out of the building, Clark suffering from a severe stab wound from the exact same kind of weapon.

Jack notices.

Notices how different he and Clark are.

///

So in 13x02, he's still struggling with that blossoming realization, that horror:

Jack already knows:

This appeal is for a reassurance that can't be given...

Something about godforsaken monsters and their little monsters. It's so painful.

But also so reminiscent of another moment of unsettling, possibly evil, intrinsic invulnerability:

There's something so piercing about this off-key parallel.

My brother thinks you can* be saved & You don't believe that // You don't think you deserve to be saved

[juicyspacesecrets]

Happy Holidays! Please find joy in the world today!

[writtenbeneaththestars]

Stood on the cliffside screaming

Summary: Jameson and Grayson deal with the anniversary of Emily's death Warnings: thoughts of suicide, angst, past character death (please tell me if I missed any!!) A/N: I'm really bad at writing romance so uh I'm sorry in advance for the kinda small averyjameson scene at the beginning.... *please tell me if I made any mistakes!!*

Tags: @catapparently, @urbanflorals, @nqds, @reminiscentreader, @never-enough-novels

“Jamie,” Avery said as she laid a hand on her boyfriend’s shoulder. He turned to give her a soft smile.

“Heiress.” She could tell he was holding something back. And she had a few suspicions about what that something was.

“I know what the date is, Jameson Hawthorne.” He tensed for the briefest moment under her hand before relaxing again.

“Happy birthday, heiress.”

“You know that wasn’t the day I was talking about,” Avery said softly. They both knew exactly what she was talking about. They both knew exactly why today was what it was.

October eighteenth. The happiest and worst day of Jameson’s life. The day Avery was born and the day Emily died.

“I know,” Jameson muttered softly, leaning down to kiss his girlfriend. It was soft. He was letting her decide what to do with it. But really, what choice was there but to kiss him back? Deep and yearning. It was a feeling she wanted to go on for forever. But it couldn’t and they both knew that.

“You’re going to have to talk about it at some point you know,” Avery said, pulling away. She was close enough to feel his breath tickle her skin. Close enough to just lean in and let the world melt away yet again. To just let everything go and fall into his arms. But she couldn’t when he was hurting. They both knew that.

“Can’t we just celebrate the good thing?” His breath whispered across her face. She wanted nothing more than to celebrate today, but she wanted to do it when one of her favorite people in the world wasn't in pain.

“You’re hurting, Jamie.” He let out a soft sigh but didn’t back away.

“Today will never be easy. I think you know that. But it’s easier when I’m with you. When I think about the good things and not the bad.” He lifted his hand and rested it on her face. “Like the fact that today was the day you were born into this world. The day that meant that sometime in the future, we would meet each other. The day that led to this.”

“Jamie.” Her voice was barely audible. She was scared that any volume louder than that would break the delicate calm in the storm they had created.

“Heiress.” He returned with the same gentleness.

“I love you.” And they descended into a kiss yet again. Just when their lips touched, she heard someone clearing their throat. Avery whipped her head around, and saw Nash standing in the doorway with a smug grin. Crap.

“You know,” the eldest Hawthorne brother said, walking in. “You really ought to close the door when you’re making out.” He looked over at Avery. “Happy birthday.”

“Oh, um, th– thank you,” Avery managed to stutter out. She was sure her face was red at this point. What was more embarrassing than having your boyfriend’s older brother slash older sister’s fiancé walking in on you kissing? Jamie sighed, narrowing his eyes at his brother.

“Why are you here, Nash.”

“I was bored,” he said, shrugging. Then he paused for a moment before turning to Jamie with concern in his eyes. “How are you doing?” Jameson rolled his eyes with a scoff.

“I’m fine, Nash.” Nash looked at Avery, raising his eyebrows.

‘Better,’ Avery mouthed, taking her boyfriend’s hand. Nash nodded. That was good. As the oldest brother, he was always worried about them. But today especially. Emily’s death day was never good for Jamie and Gray. But Jamie has Avery to keep him from doing anything too reckless now, and he was grateful for that.

“Has anyone seen Gray today?” He asked. Avery felt Jameson’s hand tense in her own.

“You haven’t?” To anyone else, his voice would have sounded carefree and light. But Avery knew what he was really feeling. Despite how he wanted everyone to think, Jameson cared about his brothers a lot. He was worried. And the more worried he got, the more he tended to pretend that he wasn’t.

“I was going to check the pool next,” Nash said with a shrug.

“No,” Jameson said, a strange expression on his face. “His two AM swim should be over by now.” His tone was mocking, but Avery knew better. A look of realization dawned on his face as he let out a curse.

“You know where he is, don’t you,” Nash said, watching as his brother put on a thin jacket, no doubt getting ready to leave the house. Jamie paused, letting out a dramatic sigh.

“Oh, ‘tis so woeful being the only genius in this house.” He left the room, but not before giving one more smirk back at Avery and Nash. She started to follow him out, but Nash put a hand on her shoulder.

“Something about this tells me that they need to do this alone,” he muttered. He shot her a grin. “And if they end up not killing each other in the next ten minutes, we can go get them then.” Avery nodded, before turning to Nash with a puzzled expression.

“How will we know where to go?” Nash shot her another grin, and then it clicked. “You already know where he is, don’t you.” Nash shrugged.

“I figured this was something they should do themselves first.” Of course he already knew. “Although,” he added. “I don’t particularly like the spot Gray chose.” He shrugged, but Avery could tell he was worried too. The brothers cared about each other. And Nash being the oldest one, well, he’s had more experience than all of them in dealing with and taking care of the Hawthorne brothers. “I’ll text you in five,” he called out behind him as he left her room.

****

The wind was cold, but Grayson couldn’t feel it. It was unusually cold for an October day, but he supposed it fit. It was funny, in a twisted sort of way how much he wanted to just– no. He wasn’t allowed to show that. He wasn’t allowed to say that. He could only think that because he needed to be perfect. And perfect people don’t think about jumping off to see if they would fly, knowing damn well they can’t.

Perfect people wouldn’t be like Grayson Hawthorne.

He would just swim. Just swim until he physically couldn’t anymore, then he’d swim one more lap after that. To get rid of the noise. To get rid of the hurt. To get rid of the numb. But it always returned with a vengeance the moment he stopped. But this cliff? This cliff was fine. Yeah, it was fine. He could just– he could just stay here a little longer, right?

He had lost track of time at this point. How long had he been up here, looking over the edge? How long had he been shut off and numb to the world around him? Well, he knew the answer to that. Since practically forever. He couldn’t remember a single day when nothing hurt. When nothing was wrong. It didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter. He wouldn’t let it matter.

Sometime, somewhere in the fog that had taken over his brain, he heard footsteps from behind him. It was funny how he could be so lost yet so aware at the same time. He picked on the littlest things these days, yet he was still never fully present for any of it.

At first he thought he was making it all up. He’s made up entire people before, so what's stopping him from making up this sound? Still he whipped his head around, and was filled with the slightest of shock and relief that he wasn’t making it up.

“So I was right,” he heard his brother say when he turned his head back around. Jameson sounded smug, but Grayson had long gained the ability to see – and hear – through his facade. He was worried. Grayson wanted to scoff and shake some sense into him because Grayson Hawthorn did not need any worry. He didn’t deserve it.

“How are you today, Jameson?” He asked, because asking Jameson and making sure he was ok was easier than telling him that Grayson wasn’t. He wouldn't admit it was because he cared about his brother. He just wouldn’t. He was met with a scoff coming from his right as Jameson sat down next to him.

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah, sure.” Grayson said. His brother could deflect as much as he wanted, but Grayson could do it better.

“Well that’s rich coming from the person who’s sitting on the edge of the cliff where they watched someone die.” Grayson could do nothing but shrug. There was a pause before Jameson spoke again. “It’s hard, but I’m getting through it. Avery’s helping.” Grayson nodded. That was good. As much as he hated to show it, he hated the idea of any of his brothers being hurt. “How are you?” So he really did ask it, huh.

“I’m fine.” He was aware that he was echoing Jameson, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care.

“Yeah, because sitting on the edge of the cliff where Emily died for who knows how long at this point is certainly the definition of fine.” He flinched when her name was mentioned and he knew Jameson noticed. He was relieved when it wasn’t brought up. “Talk to me, Gray.” But he couldn’t. Didn’t he understand? He couldn’t. He let out a quiet sigh.

“Life is funny, isn’t it?” Grayson turned to his brother for the first time since he arrived, laughing darkly. He turned back to the direction of the edge. “It just has to make them both land on the same date, doesn’t it.” He turned his head up to look at the sky. Jameson didn’t talk. “I’m just– I’m so sick of it.” He couldn’t bring himself to care that he was revealing what he had kept buried for his entire life, and to his brother no less.

“Of the dates?” Jameson sounded light, like he didn’t have a care in the world, but Grayson heard the heaviness in his voice nonetheless.

“Of life.” He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, unearthing feelings he had taught himself to suppress for as long as he could remember. But it felt like nothing. Like he was just empty.

“You were going to jump off that cliff.” Jameson said, his voice a mix of emotions that Grayson didn’t have the energy or motivation to pick apart. The part he did catch though, was that it wasn’t a question.

“No.” On some level, he was aware that he was talking. But it felt like he was underwater. Which was funny, because he realized that he sort of wanted to be. Underwater. And to never come back up. “I was going to step off.” He realized on some level that his voice sounded hollow. Like it had died a long time ago, and was decaying. It was funny because that was how he felt. Turned out his voice reflected it too. He realized he had a strange sense of humor.

“How long?” And Grayson knew exactly what he was asking. How long had he been this way? How long had he wanted to simply die and not be revived?

“The question you ought to ask isn’t how long,” he said, “rather when am I not.” He heard footsteps coming from behind them. Ah, so their ten minutes alone were up according to Nash.

“Have you guys gotten all your angst out yet?” He heard his youngest brother say. Leave it to Xander to lighten the mood.

“Meh,” Jameson said, and Grayson could hear him smirking. He knew without looking that Avery sat down next to his brother, and Nash was in the process of sitting down next to him. And Libby sat next to Nash, Max sat next to Avery, and Xander sat next to Max.

“So,” Avery said after a moment of silence. “The cliff?” Grayson shrugged.

“Personally,” Nash started saying, placing a hand on Grayson’s shoulder. He found that he strangely didn’t mind. “I think it’s a bit cold, but oh well.”

“Ok, now that everyone is here,” Jameson said after another moment of silence. “You can’t lie anymore. How are you really, Gray?” He was aware his heart was pounding, but he was too busy making sure he didn’t cry. Because Grayson Hawthorn could not cry. How long had he spent his childhood wishing, pleading that someone would ask him that? But now– now he didn’t know what to say.

“I have no idea.” His voice was monotone and conveyed no emotion at all. Just the way he liked it. Just the way Tobias liked it.

“That’s ok,” Nash said, and something in him broke. He felt a tear silently fall from his eyes. That was another thing. Crying silently. He had taught himself how to do that when he used to cry in the middle of the night before he had mastered the art of blocking everything out. And they just kept coming.

And then Jameson hugged him and they fell faster. They never hugged. Jameson pulled back and looked into his eyes.

'I know,' they were saying. 'I’ve got you. You’re safe. I know.'

The date would always be hard. But they had each other. And that made it that much more tolerable. And it would be ok.

It would be ok.

[benevadeca]

LBH / SJ as parallels makes me crazy bc on one hand there's the themes of personal responsibility and the hard work necessary for taking agency for your choices and them being what shapes the kind of life that is reachable but on the other SJ was literally replaceable by the narrative and even when he did sporadically try to be Good it always blew up on him / never knew anything else and so was unable to be anything else.

VS LBH was not / protagonist halo / literal bloodline superiority / did at least know love which is what made him able to transcend the world by knowing the abuse he faced was something wrong and not something natural. Anyway

[puppygirlgirldick]

i rather enjoy being the dumb silly puppy until such point that someone in a discord server needs some investing 201 level financial advice. then the business degree that has branded my soul takes over and i rattle off some john bogle shit about exchange traded funds and lazy investing portfolios in a daze.

like, i am investing fuckin couch change and spare dollars into some robinhood account just because i want to do something with this degree i've otherwise not earned a dime off of cuz it beats going to a casino, but it's really funny to just go Professor Dog and have them be impressed and then go back to barking and such.

[nordfjording]

made something for myself AND put a rock in it? in this mental economy?

[coquelicoq]

i just don't understand what milady has done that was so bad. sure she killed and she kidnapped, but who hasn't? sure she's a terrifying demon of vengeance, but she deserves it? good for her??? all these men treat her so reprehensibly and she's smart and talented and she should kill them all if she wants to. i support her.

[jukeboxhound]

In the last eight years or so -- which means it's not just COVID-related issues -- I've lost my favorite local coffee house, my favorite local bookstore, my favorite local quirky restaurant, AND my favorite local Irish pub with the 1916 Easter Rising mural, and now I'm about to lose my favorite local secondhand clothing shop. 😭

[randomly--accessed--memories]

So, the Hazbin Playbill says that Velvette produces/can do spells

She would've 100% tried her damndest to heal Vox via magic and gotten increasingly frustrated/self-conscious/heartbroken when nothing worked

[good-morzan-inheritance-cycle]

Did anyone look for Morzan when he was stolen away?

Did anyone wander around at night where he used to play with Brom and his friends and wonder where he went?

Did anyone ever imagine how he may have cried for help on the night Galbatorix became the cruelest?

Did Oromis see the child under his care disappear and even bother with the thought that he might have been hurt?

Did Brom sit awake at night, a small child wishing for the boy he saw as his big brother to come home?

Were there friends who sat up until the late hours at their windows hoping they’d see his figure in the dark?

Were there dragons missing their friend in his nests and hoping they’d keep his young rider safe?

Was there ever a time, Morzan was as missed as a hurting child should have been?

Edit; I’m also adding on to here that this applies to him being an adult and in the AU when he’s taken earlier than in canon lol

[tblsomedoodles]

Just a young Rider with his baby dragon. Nothing bad will happen to them. honest.

Rereading Eragon (b/c reading fourth wing and Iron Flame only succeeded in making me want to read something that actually focuses on the dragons/dragon riding aspects. b/c that's why i was there) and thought, hey this would be cute to draw for a speedpaint.

My computer thought otherwise and decided to shut down when i was almost done, corrupting the video.

The doodle got save (thank you csp for your recovery feature!) but yeah, no speedpaint to go with it.

So back to the drawing board. Literally. (and the speedpaint is already late too : / )

[reyreadersblog]

So tiramisu has an RP account now??😭

[writtenbeneaththestars]

Drowning

Summary: Grayson and swimming Warnings: thoughts of suicide, angst, overexertion, thoughts of drowning (please tell me if I missed any!!) A/N: What way to bring in pride month then with…. a very angsty Grayson fic ANYWAY— this is really short but I hope you enjoy? *please tell me if I made any mistakes!!*

Tags: @catapparently, @urbanflorals, @nqds, @reminiscentreader, @never-enough-novels (please tell me if you want to be added or removed!!)

It wasn’t a secret that Grayson Hawthorne swam. A lot.

It was a secret that sometimes, when he swam, he pictured sinking and never coming back up to the surface. It was more of a secret that by sometimes, he actually meant way more than just some of the time.

Today was like that.

The water was especially cold today for whatever reason, but that didn’t matter. He just– he needed the noise to be gone. He just needed it to be gone so it could be ok and he– he really, really needed to swim. Because Grayson Hawthorne did not break. He didn’t get the luxury of breaking.

So he’ll just swim instead.

And if anyone asked him what he was doing, he’d say swimming. Because swimming was fine. No one cared if he swam. No one cared if he pushed his body past its limit every single time, until he couldn’t breathe but in the good way – the way that he could control.

But no one asked him. That was fine. He didn’t need anyone to care. He didn’t deserve it anyway.

Avery asked a few times when she first came, but he gave the same answers every time.

“You’re going out to swim? In this hour?” Yes. He went all hours of the day and night and everything in between. He had to.

“You’re going to overwork yourself.” No I won’t. Yes, he would. Sometimes, he didn’t care. Other times, that was the point.

She seemed to get used to it after a while and stopped questioning him. He didn’t know if he was sad about that or not, but it left a sort of empty numb feeling. Then again, that feeling had always been there as far as he could remember.

When he was in the pool, he’d swim laps and laps and so many freaking laps. The entire time, he whispered in his mind everything wrong with him. Everything he needed to change. It was funny, because every single part of him needed to change. He swam with perfect form, never making a mistake. He had to. And if he did mess up, well, he wasn’t entirely sure. That had never happened before. All he knew was that he didn’t have the luxury of messing up. He couldn’t mess up.

Sometimes – and by that he meant rather frequently actually – he’d hold his breath and go to the bottom of the pool. And it wasn’t anyone’s business whether or not he contemplated if he should come up for air. He’d close his eyes as the lack of oxygen burned his lungs and his body screamed at him to come up to the surface. He resisted it. And it was so peaceful. In the end though, his body would always win and he would come up gasping for breath.

He did that today, and for the briefest moment, he could picture how nice it would be if he just didn’t come up. For a moment, that almost came true. But once he came up, he let out a laugh. He really was pathetic, wasn’t he. Thinking he could just be free of it all that easily. Who did he think he was? Grayson Hawthorne needed to be perfect.

But he knew the truth. No matter how perfect he got, he would never be perfect enough.

And maybe one day, he could finally stop treading the water, fighting tooth and nail to stay above the rising tide that threatens to overwhelm him. Maybe someday the water would slowly start to lower. But until then, he guessed he just had to hope he didn’t drown.

Somewhere in his mind he knew the truth: it was already too late. He was beyond the point of saving. He was already drowning.

He had already drowned.

[spoopyloonerisms]

thinking of rick riordans books and how no matter the pantheon these children inherit problems caused by the adults. drawing parallels between these kids being left in the wreckage of their parents decisions and having to step up and solve shit they didn’t cause.

it is an inheritance by blood.

in this essay I will—