#inheritance-story

[tragedyinblue]

Squeaking in one last entry for the July FiguWhump Challenge and it's actually relevant to my BBU story, Inheritance! @figuwhump

CW: aftermath of medical whump, reference to death, no gore but lots of blood, panic attack, surveillance camera POV, "it" as a pronoun, dehumanization

The sheet-covered figure and the gurney beneath it disappeared around the doorway, the incessant squeak of ungreased wheels echoing in C47's ears. C47 hadn't been ordered to watch the handlers remove the body from the room, but it was the least it could do for the poor, wounded Pet whose name C47 hadn't known. Would never know.

Handler Jones cooed down at it, her gloved fingers carding through its sweat-damp hair.

"Don't worry, 47. The first failure is always the hardest, but I know you'll do better next time."

Its vision fuzzed and every breath became quicker, sharper, as if barbed wire were cinching tighter around its chest.

Don't pass out. Don't pass out!

"Yes, Ma'am," it croaked.

Satisfied, the handler stepped around the puddle on the floor and locked the Pet inside, promising to return with something to hose it down.

The sound of her boots had barely faded when C47 rocked backwards into the cot, tucked its head between its knees, and screamed.

Taglist because I guess this is canon somewhere :P @maracujatangerine, @octopus-reactivated, @dislexiher, @whumpzone, @i-eat-worlds, @cupcakes-and-pain

[transassdemon]

[My art, don't steal, tag if reposting]

[crustaceousfaggot]

Shout out to Cishet White Teenager Christopher Paolini for realizing that if you give people infinite time, a completely non-judgemental society, and the power to change their bodies any way they want, lots of people are gonna start doing Freaky Anthro Transgenderism on themselves.

Like yeah, if I had the option I'd probably turn myself into a bizzare eldritch creature too

[dykealloy]

ripple effect legacy // my tears are becoming a sea, M83

[lilithofpenandbook]

Something about Dumbledore being so hard on Snape

Dumbledore being scornful of Snape even when Snape was on his knees

Dumbledore emphasising that Snape made a mistake and must pay for it

Dumbledore who kept reminding Snape of his mistake even when he was grieving Lily

Dumbledore who didn't just let Snape change sides, he needed Snape to change his heart

Dumbledore who made the same mistakes as Snape and has been living in guilt ever since

Dumbledore who realised Snape was following in his footsteps

Dumbledore who may have started out thinking of Snape as cowardly or selfish but soon grew to trust him

Dumbledore who gave Snape half truths because if worst came to worst then Voldemort would have all the information right on his arm

Dumbledore who trusted Snape enough to not lie to him about the fact that he wasn't telling him everything even though he knew Snape resented it

Dumbledore who trusted Snape so much he knew that even if Snape resented him he would not betray him

Dumbledore who left everything he worked for in Snape's hands knowing it would be safe

Dumbledore who asked Snape to be the one to kill him, not just to save Draco's soul but for his own aake

Dumbledore who chose to die but only at the hands of someone he had grown to love

Dumbledore who once saw Snape as a desperate selfish boy that disgusted him

Dumbledore who made Snape his heir

Dumbledore who made Snape his.

[bigskydreaming]

Imagine looking at a character whose entire premise is that in every stage of his life, he's made every version of himself into someone that inspires people to such a degree that EVERY SINGLE VERSION OF HIM has people wanting to literally follow in his footsteps in some way or another.....

And coming to the conclusion that like.....the most important things about him are the sum of all his trappings. His entirely homemade developed from scratch could not exist if not for what he already was and brought with him BEFORE crafting this newest version of himself trappings, with his greatest trait throughout all of it being his adaptability; his ability and willingness to roll with the punches and not try to simply weather any opposition or changes to his life but instead reshape himself as needed to better fit INTO whatever new shape his life and the world around him takes. All while managing to carry the most innate, fundamental and necessary aspects of himself from one version to the next. Thus every single version of himself is different but simultaneously every single version of himself is also undeniably the same person.

The strength of this character, to me, will always be that he can be so many versions of himself, he can become so many things, all without ever actually losing or discarding any of the aspects of himself he considers most essential, the things he's not willing to lose or give up just to keep going. Finding that road not taken by most, usually because most never even think to look for it as an option. But one that he's always able to find because the one trick he's mastered in his tumultuous life is threading that needle of not just digging in his heels in an unproductive way but rather being selective about when and where he makes a stand and decides "this is not a thing I'm willing to compromise about" but here are places and ways I can and will change and evolve and adapt in order to make it possible for me to hold onto these parts and keep them as they are.

And that's why its always so mind-boggling to me that so many writers can't seem to think of anything else to do with Dick Grayson other than invent some new reason for him to just....not be that person, or to like just take the character whose most basic fundamental trait he's NOT about to compromise on is willingly giving up his spot in the driver's seat of his own life.....and make him just a passenger in his own life and stories.

Dick Grayson at age nine....at age nineteen...at age twenty nine....the one core thread running through all versions of him is the only way he's standing back and letting you call the shots for him or putting him on the sidelines in some way is over his dead body.

HOW he goes about that, what that looks like, who he becomes and what aspects of himself he plays up at some times and what traits he lets fall by the wayside at other times when they offer less in service to his primary goal here....that changes constantly. He changes constantly.

But those changes are almost always (or at least they used to be/should be IN MY OPINION) made with the intention of keeping certain things about him or his life as consistent as possible.

That's the duality of Dick Grayson that I'm here for. The inherent contradiction of him that COULD allow for endless conflict and breaking new narrative ground in all sorts of ways if mined properly:

His eternal willingness to compromise....but only ever in pursuit of doubling down on the ways he's not willing to compromise.

Forever walking that tightrope in ways that only a kid born and raised in a circus could ever hope to.

[loriache]

honestly i'm kind of interested in the idea of laios in an arranged marriage. because obviously straight-up inherited monarchies are ...bad, to say the least! but it's what the characters are familiar with (even laios' father's extremely local, extremely minor leadership role is inherited, presumably through the male line). and it isn't just about what they think the best way to run melini is; in terms of ensuring that the other longed-lived nations respect melini's continued sovereignty, having it passed down in a manner that's close enough to their own ways for them to understand it and respect it is important. And it seems like most of the other nations have leadership through inheritance - thought that isn't confirmed for certain except with the elves.

Also, a marriage carries the potential to establish foreign allies - something melini is certainly lacking. A marriage could come with resources they'll badly need, treaties of mutual defence, money, legitimacy and political capital... not that these things can't be worked around, but if laios isn't strongly opposed, there are a lot of advantages! and i don't think he would be, because that's the framework for marriage (conferring practical advantages, building intracommunity relationships and providing a partner to do important work that he can't do) that he had grown up with. he isn't exactly a romantic and I doubt he's holding out for any sort of relationship of that nature.

Like, I don't think it's impossible that they would go with this path, because it's the most obvious and it carries a lot of advantages and it's what almost all the decision-making characters would consider normal and not objectionable. and it could be so interesting.

I think Laios would have major hangups if expected (i.e., by Marcille) to establish a genuine, romantic interest in a woman. Whether because of his sexual or romantic orientation, or just his own deep-seated trauma about rejection and being inherently disgusting and scary. And I think he'd hate the idea of having kids, too, and be very frightened of being like his father. But I don't think he'd refuse on that basis; he could cope with a marriage contract, with clearly laid-out expectations and responsibilities. And when it came to having a kid, I think he'd be reluctant to express that he doesn't want to do it, because he isn't naive and he understood when he agreed to be king it would carry responsibilities like this. It's clear from his nightmare that he already felt pressure from his parents to have children, probably magnified by the fact his father has got a position, responsibilities and wealth to pass on. Obviously he isn't a perfect martyr, so he might struggle when it comes to actually going through with it - but I don't think he'd actually, outright refuse. I think he might do it even though he doesn't want to, and I think that could be really messy in a way that appeals to me.

I don't know, there's something about negotiating these kinds of complicated situations that's interesting to me. and i love a platonic marriage. If they find a woman who has an interest in education, for example, and can work with marcille on setting up schools and universities. she'd ideally be politically savvy enough to be an able partner to laios: even though kabru can and would continue to do a lot of that, there are different spheres that a queen and a prime minister can work within!

how would their relationship work? maybe she finds laios' perspective on the world, and his frankness, unexpectedly liberating after an extremely controlled, cloistered upbringing. maybe she had a rebellious phase, has magic, or something else which makes her a relatively unpopular candidate for marriage - even as melini grows in power, i doubt that they'd be getting offers for the cream of the crop in terms of perceived value on the marriage market, because laios' relationship is a bit too ambivalent/monstrous for that, and melini too new. maybe she's a widow! an older woman, wouldn't that be cool - though they'd want her young enough that she could definitely still have kids.

certainly i think he'd be happy for her to pursue other relationships, though ideally in a manner that couldn't produce illegitimate kids. with other relationships in play, that's even more interesting. like, both kabru and toshiro have complicated emotions relating to infidelity. i think kabru would actually find it quite cathartic to be in the kind of high-status environment that rejected his mother for perceived infidelity, pursuing an affair that all parties consent to, though he'd likely be incredibly aware of the public image - since "image" is what he was rejected for. toshiro... i just really really love the way he'd feel about being the "other woman" in laios' marriage, considering his feelings about his father and maizuru. especially given how much closer he is to maizuru than his mother, being in her position...! his emotions would be so complex, it's incredibly tasty. i bet he'd make a bunch of assumptions about how laios' wife feels about it and be totally wrong, and that's so interesting. also, i think laios' wife should fuck marcille (she and falin have an open relationship).

[lyrakanefanatic]

grayson when he first answered lyra’s call:

[tragedyinblue]

4. Named

CW: "it" in reference to a person, institutionalized slavery, dehumanization, fetal position, uncomfortable confinement, reference to past abuse, scars

“Now you listen to me!” Abigail yelled into the receiver. She rarely raised her voice nowadays, but was glad at least that her old vocal cords could handle the strain. “I don’t want one of your little Pets in my house snooping around and messing with my things!”

Lyle sighed, likely pinching his nose. “First of all, I didn’t send you one of my Pets. We ordered this directly from WRU. Secondly, it’s not there to snoop, it’s there to help you. If you don’t want it in your house then keep it in the shed in the back. No one’s used it in years.”

Sarah’s voice cut in before Abigail could give Lyle the tongue-lashing he deserved. “Look, Mom, can you just give it a chance? It’s trained to take care of you.”

“That skinny thing doesn’t look like he could even take care of himself. Why should I believe he can take care of me?” she snapped. “And I don’t need help!”

“Please just try it out for two weeks,” Sarah said tiredly. “That’s all I’m asking.” 

Abigail’s expression softened. The phone went quiet for long enough that Abigail felt a twinge of guilt through her rage. Sarah was only trying to help. She knew that. It still didn’t make her feel like swallowing this lemon.

Then Lyle, the boor, leaned in. “If you don’t like having it around after that, then just call and have them pick it up.”

The thought of those delivery men tramping through her home again brought the rage right back. “Absolutely not! Come here and take him away from me right now!”

Her earpiece crackled at the sound of the receiver hitting its cradle on the other end of the line. Abigail responded in kind, petulantly annoyed that Grisham wouldn’t hear it, too. She wanted to throttle that man with her wrinkled hands. Instead she took a few long, calming breaths before heading back into the parlor and carefully lifting the lid completely off. 

The young man inside—a Pet—was curled into a fetal position, a moving blanket his only padding. Having witnessed how roughly the delivery men handled the box, Abigail could only imagine how many bruises hid beneath the black shirt and drawstring pants he wore. Slowly he shifted into a kneeling position with his head bowed, blue eyes looking up at her through dark brown hair. 

“Hello. Are you this Pet’s new Mistress?”

Abigail blanched, letting out a startled laugh. “I certainly hope not!” 

The Pet cocked his head and blinked, confusion furrowing his brows.

‘Right,’ she thought. ‘He wouldn’t understand that as a joke.’

She cleared her throat and tried again. “Yes, I suppose I am for now. My name is Abigail Cooper, but if you must call me anything then Miss Abigail or Miss Abbie is fine.”

“Of course, Miss Abbie,” he said, nodding. The slight dip of his chin drew her gaze to the thick band of scar tissue, roped and puckered like a burn, that circled his neck. Even so, he smiled sweetly and her heart bled at the sight. Damn it. They’d given her two weeks to decide whether or not to keep him; apparently two minutes was enough.

“What’s your name, dear?”

“It is known as Combination Domestic/Caregiver Model 049113-C47,” he recited without the slightest hesitation. “Any further names are a privilege granted by the master or mistress claiming ownership of the Pet in question.”

The clinical phrasing sent a chill through her bones. She’d seen other Pets and Pet owners, of course, aside from Lyle. Did they feel as unnerved as she did, or were they simply numb to the horror? 

‘Focus,’ she thought, catching the Pet’s gaze once more. ‘A name. This young man needs a name.’

Abigail had only two children, both daughters, so boy names had never been a concern. At one time, though, she’d had a list just in case. Groping through her memories was like wandering through dense fog at times, but blessedly her mind tripped on one. It might have been her favorite. 

“In that case, I’ll call you Chase. Is that alright?” 

The Pet brightened immediately, looking strangely like a puppy; if he’d possessed a tail it would’ve thumped against the box. “Yes, thank you, Miss Abbie!” 

“You’re welcome, Chase. Now let’s get you out of there.”

------------------------------- I binge-wrote this and the previous section in one sitting. No promises that I'll go this fast. Things are rosy with Miss Abby for now, but they won't be forever.

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Taglist: @maracujatangerine

[olasketches]

the fact that megumi was supposed to be the MC makes me giddy as hell. ITS ALL COMING TOGETHER GUYS

[kacievvbbbb]

Honestly despite my feelings about how the last arc of MHA went down I really love Deku and his story.

I just feel like a lot of the time we get these protagonists whose whole philosophy is it doesn’t matter what you were born as everyone can achieve greatness. But then the series goes on and it turns out that actually it DOES matter because the protagonist has this really great lineage and these really great powers you can only have through birth they were actually born born, predestined if you will, to do this.

But MHA actually sticks to its guns. Midoriya wasn’t revealed to have some great connection to all might that the universe had put in place. He wasn’t defended from some great lineage that makes him uniquely suited to this. Hell All for one didn’t even turn out to be his father, there was no hidden powerful quirk he was always meant to have. He was just Midoriya Izuku a boy who was in the right place at the right time and simply decided to act while the world did nothing. And that’s what really made him a hero.

I don’t know, maybe it’s just me, but I believe him a bit more when he goes anybody can be a hero if you just decide to act

[gunthermunch]

[Transcript under the cut]

Teacher: um. Blu… Bluma, right? Bluma: mmmngh…? Teacher: Class is over, dear. Everyone's out Bluma: mhmm but papa Maggie keeps putting bugs in my shoes- Bluma: class is over? Teacher: yes…? Bluma: …oh Teacher: you fell asleep so fast i thought i'd rather let you Bluma: thanks. Bluma: and of course none of my classmates bothered to wake me up. Teacher: does this happen often? Bluma: what? them? Teacher: oh no i mean, is there something… that you wanna talk about? perhaps? Bluma: oh. OH! well you are new here clearly. All my teachers are informed on my condition. Teacher: condition? Bluma: yes it's very very bad and serious and father inherited. horrendous really.

Bluma: it's called puberty

(Cass): bookcase! so exciting. Did it lead anywhere? (Cass): did you know i enjoy paraspychology? (Annie) Quick tip? don't mess up. (Ulrike) I mean, he doesn't need to have ''a plan'' yet. (Max): as if he ever will. WG:ugh. (WG): one day i decided to cut all my friends off, even her (WG): i need to figure out stuff first (Cass): don't prove me wrong (Morgan): maybe he'll never be someone important and that's okay y'know (Morgan): Wolfgang.you are being mean for no reason, again. (Morgan): I'm not mad, don't worry. Bye (WG): stop lying to yourself and do something you actually like for once (Cass): …yes. I agree (WG): that would make me feel less shitty about… the way i acted. (Jeb): eventually… (Jeb): I like your natural hair, by the way WG: …stupid thoughts. WG: hi mom WG: …she's what? WG: yeah. yeah i'm coming

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

title : four bottles and a maybe kiss

pairing: Jameson Hawthorne x (first person) reader

synopsis : you are at a bar with the Hawthorne brothers who you’ve grown up friends with. But being with Jameson Hawthorne has always been a little different than the others, it’s always felt like there is something more…

warnings : drinking and alcohol

a/n : this is my first ever time writing in this platform so idk if this is too long or really rubbish, I just hope you enjoy and I’m always open to feedback

tag list : there is no tag list but let me know if you want to be on it :)

The music was so loud I could feel each beat in my chest. The pounding of the song was beginning to match the pounding in my head. I could feel my limbs beginning to ache. I needed to get out of hot, sticky, sweatiness of this place. I knew I wasn’t even the slightest bit tipsy, I’d only had one drink and I’m glad, it was easy to get lost in this place. Eventually I find the door to exit. The cold air laps my exposed skin, drinking up the humidity greedily and I’ve never been more grateful. I tip my head back, shutting my eyes and take a deep breath in. I allow the oxygen to fill my lungs and feel a little calmer, a little less achy. I exhale, thankful for the cool breeze of the night. But it’s not longer before my kind begins to wander as it often does when the rest of the world is silent and it always directs me back to the same train of thought. Jameson Hawthorne.

I’d grown up by his side and him by mine. We had always gotten on, always been like minded people with a high aptitude for various subjects. Tobias had always had a liking for me, approving of one of the family’s few outside connections. I’d always been close to all the Hawthorne brothers but Jameson… Jameson was so different. It never felt like just a friendship, the bond was too strong, too emotional for just that. His familiar smirk often laced my dreams and his bright eyes constantly plagued my imagination. Things like that don’t just happen. From the day we met and every day after, there has been a spark. I can feel the electricity pulsing through my veins when I’m around him and I don’t know if he can feel it too. So I say nothing and of course he says nothing and so we live on. Me, imagining the impossible and Jameson… being Jameson.

Suddenly, reeling me out of my thoughts quite literally, my body jerks forward as I feel something hit my back with force. I slam into the pavement, the impact hard, but break my fall with my hands.

“Oh shit shit shit, I’m so sorry,” a familiar voice says.

My head whips around and my eyes widen, “Jameson?”

‘Huh just the person I was thinking about…’ I think, ‘Fate? Nah.’

I look up. There he is, standing there. He’s just fallen out of the door of a bar but somehow still looks like some sort of Greek god. His face so perfect it’s unfair, eyes so bright it gives the sun a run for her money, a smile so alluring that I’d sell both my kidneys just to see it once.

“Oh hey there Y/N!” he grins as I stand up wiping my hands on the bottom of my dress, “didn’t see you there.”

“You don’t say,” I reply, analysing him. His face was red and rosy, his eyelids drooping slightly and I could see the sweat dripping off of his forehead.

“What?” he asks, cocking his head to one side

“You’re drunk,” I state.

“Nooooo,” he slurs, grinning as he stumbles towards me. He’s about to fall over before I act fast and catch him. I underestimated his weight and falter slightly but managed to pull him back as he’s wheezing with laughter.

“What’s so funny Jamie?” I ask, not bothering to suppress my smile.

“I fell over,” he laughs, “and this is the second time now!”

I sigh, “How many drinks have you had?”

“Four…” he says, hesitating a little while, “…bottles.”

“Jameson!” I exclaim.

“Y/n!” he yells, mocking my shocked tone.

“Four whole bottles!”

“Nash had double,” he defends, putting his hands up. His hair, as unruly as ever, look particularly good tonight. I don’t know what he’s done with it but it made him look so beautiful.

“Is that why he’s cowboy dancing?” I ask, recalling the routine if previously witnessed, that will be engraved into my brain for the rest of my life.

“And screaming Taylor Swift,” Jameson tells me, “I believe when I left it was ‘picture to burn’ but by now it could be anything.”

“Damn I missed that,” I say.

“Gray probably got it on video,” he shrugs, tapping one hand on his leg in a rhythm, like he often does when he’s nervous or distracted or just needs to burn some energy.

“Where’s Xander?” I ask him.

“I don’t knowww,” Jameson slurs, his eyes darting from my eyes to my lips and back again, “but I know where you are!”

I smile softly, folding my arms and leaning on the wall behind me, “and where am I?”

His eyelids fall down and then pry open slowly before he slumps down against the wall, hitting the concrete with a thump. That’s going to be a painful bruise tomorrow.

“You are here, with me,” he laughs, “and I’m really happy you’re here with me.”

“You are?” I ask, my eyebrows flying up, caught off guard at the comment

“Yep, can I tell you a secret?” he asks me, his green eyes sparkling as my stares up at me, clinging to my forearm.

“What’s your secret?” I whisper.

“You have to come down here to hear it,” Jameson giggles, tugging twice on my arm. I oblige and sit down next to him, my back against the wall. He takes my face between his hands and I’m taken by surprise. He’s so gentle and soft. My brain is telling me to pull away but our eyes connect and my brain doesn’t seem to work much after that. I’m staring into pools of lush green emeralds, hypnotising me from any logic I may have had. All I can hear is my heart is thumping loudly in my ears.

“What’s your secret?” I whisper, our faces inches apart, almost touching but not quite there.

“You are my favourite person,” he murmurs, “ever!”

His hands no longer cup my face and instead the tip of his finger is booping my nose. I scrunch up my face and try not to laughs. This was probably the most drunk if ever seen Jameson.

“Really?” I ask him.

“Yep,” he nods.

I can’t believe what he’s saying. I can’t let myself, it would be too cruel. He’s drunk. So very drunk. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. He won’t remember a word of it and he probably doesn’t mean it. But he possibly does. Hope blossoms in my chest and it feels so much better than the doubt. My heart is still racing, my cheeks from heating up. Thank god he won’t remember.

“Well that’s nice to know,” I say, “you want to know my secret?”

“Yeah!” he says, like an excitable puppy, practically jumping up and down in anticipation. It’s adorable. But I can’t afford to think that.

“You’re my favourite person as well,” I tell him quietly.

“Really?” he makes her, tipping his head to the side.

“Yuh-huh,” I say.

“That made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside,” he muses, “like a kitten.”

I can’t help myself as I let out a giggle. Drunk Jameson is completely random, spouting absolute nonsense but I love it. I love him. But I can’t love him because he’s just a friend. My smile fades slowly and I sigh silently staring up at the stars in the night sky. Maybe in another life, some other universe we’re written in the stars but in this one… no.

“Don’t stop,” Jameson says suddenly.

I stare at him, confusion painted across my features, “Don’t stop what?”

“Smiling,” he replies, “you’re so pretty when you smile…I mean you’re pretty anyway,” he rambled on, “but that smile…” he sighs as he trails off.

“You’re definitely drunk,” I scoff, getting to my feet.

He quickly scrambles up after me, grabbing my arms so I’m staring right at him, “this is the most sober I’ve felt all night.”

“After four bottles?” I chuckle, “yeah right.”

“Has anyone ever told you how gorgeous your eyes are,” he asks suddenly.

“What?” I ask, getting whiplash from the turn of conversation.

“Your eyes…” he murmurs, his finger grazing my jawline.

“Jameson stop this,” I say, pushing him away despite wanting nothing more than his fingers on my skin, “you don’t know what you’re saying.”

I can’t afford to have my heart broken again. I can’t take it. I won’t let myself fall. I replay those sentences in my head over and over, sounding like a mad woman but not caring for a second because I’m too stubborn to let myself go through the pain again.

“I think I do,” he replies, “I could talk about you for hours.”

I have to keep reminding myself he’s drunk. No matter how hard I want to believe that this is real, I know better than to be fooled. Things like this only happen in fiction, not in the real world. Never lose your heart to a Hawthorne, the words are etched into my brain and yet somehow I’m managing to ignore their overbearing call.

“That’s very sweet but you should probably go home and get some rest,” I say, wishing I didn’t have to take responsibility, wishing I was more reckless and selfish so that I’d just take this as my opportunity. But I’m not like that.

“Come with me,” Jameson shouts, a clear desperation in his voice, despite the fact that I wasn’t going anywhere and didn’t plan to. He grabs my hand and pulls me closer to him.

I shake my head, “no Jamie, not today.”

“But I’ll miss you,” he pouts, his hands travelling down my body and stopping at my waist, “and then I’ll get sad.”

I bite back the shiver that is begging to run through me. We’re so close. Butterflies dance around in my stomach, almost as chaotically as Nash when he does his cowboy routine to Taylor Swift. My rational mind is telling me to break free from his grasp but I feel so nice, it feels too natural that I stay.

“You’ll manage,” I tell him quietly.

“I don’t think I will,” he says. I can feel his thumb rubbing circles on the small of my back, “when I’m without you I’m so…” he struggling to find the right word, “down. Nash keeps telling me I should just tell you how I feel but what does he want me to do? Tell you that when you’re not around everything that’s meant to be colourful looks grey or that I spend most of my time thinking about the way your hair curls in the rain or the way I’ve noticed that you bite the inside of your cheek when you’re nervous. Or the dreams I’ve had about you dancing in my arms, your voice calling me yours and the sunset beaches we lay on whole we talk about everything.”

“Jameson…” I whisper, reaching out and touching his cheek tentatively.

“I love you Y/N L/N,” Jameson tells me, looking me dead in the eyes.

“You’ve had a lot to drink,” I reply sharply, shaking myself from his gasp. I’m suddenly cold without his warm hands situated on my waist, but I refuse to shiver.

“No! Listen to me! It’s always been you, I truly think it has been,” he says, so convincingly I almost believe him, “from the day we first met there’s always been something there. I felt it and I know you did too,” his voice, so determined, so passionate, “there was no way you couldn’t have. And I’m sorry, I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to tell you all of this but it’s only taken me this long to express it because I’m too much of a coward to try when I’m sober,” he admits, honesty in his shining green eyes, “but I know what I’m saying, I know what I’m doing and I’m so crazy on this high of love that I don’t think the alcohol is even working anymore.”

“I want to believe you, really Jamie, I do,” I murmur, “you don’t know how badly I want this but…” I trail off, unable to finish what my brain wants me to say, getting distracted by the way he’s looking at me.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks me softly, his eyes flicking from mine to my lips.

“Jameson-“

“Your lips look so beautiful,” he says, “Can I kiss you?”

a/n: find more like this on my TIG Masterlist

[starrynightsxo]

ANNOUNCEMENT: I WILL BE BACK

hey guys so I'm gonna be going offline for a couple of months due to some personal stuff. so sorry I feel so bad but I feel like it would be best given the situation (i'd rather not talk about it but dw it's nothing nefarious or anything just personal!)

BUT I shall be lurking about sometimes, just not very often. I will hopefully be back sometime soon so not TOO long!

I'll miss you guys SO SO much and keep talking and tagging me in things everyone I WILL return and reply and all that <3

LOVE ALL MY FOLLOWERS AND MUTUALS SO SO MUCH and I just know you all understand and I appreciate you guys so much! So don't go anywhere cos I'll be back to spew some nonsense again in a couple of months.

MISS YOU ALL ALREADY <3

- alims ❤️

my side blog: @bookgirlfanatic <3

cr: Caraval by Stephanie Garber

cr: Frankenstein by Mary Shelley

Books I've read this year 2024 (so far, in order):

Powerless by Lauren Roberts

A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J Maas

Letters to the Lost by Brigid Kemmerer

Anatomy of a Misfit by Andrea Portes (reread)

Truth or Dare by Sophie McKenzie

Divine Rivals by Rebecca Ross

A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J Maas

Coraline by Neil Gaiman

A Court of Wings and Ruin by Sarah J Maas

A Court of Frost and Starlight by Sarah J Maas

How the King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories by Holly Black (reread)

Shatter Me by Tahereh Mafi

Destroy Me by Tahereh Mafi

Unravel Me by Tahereh Mafi

Ignite Me by Tahereh Mafi

Fracture Me by Tahereh Mafi

Restore Me by Tahereh Mafi

Shadow Me by Tahereh Mafi

Defy Me by Tahereh Mafi

Reveal Me by Tahereh Mafi

Imagine Me by Tahereh Mafi

Believe Me by Tahereh Mafi

The Inheritance Games by Jennifer Lynn Barnes

The Hawthorne Legacy by Jennifer Lynn Barnes

The Final Gambit by Jennifer Lynn Barnes

Icebreaker by Hannah Grace

Ruthless Vows by Rebecca Ross

Dead Poets Society by Nancy H Kleinbaum

The Silent Patient by Alex Michaelides

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

The Brothers Hawthorne by Jennifer Lynn Barnes

The Hunger Games Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins

The Hunger Games Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins

Reckless by Lauren Roberts

A Streetcar Named Desire by Tennessee Williams

Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro

I have reviews to most of these if you check my tags somehow lol.

36/30 books this year. YAY! Happy Reading everyone!

A picrew of me <3

[pretty-purple-pages]

𝓲𝓽'𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓶𝓮, 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝔂 𝔀𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓮 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓵𝓭

synopsis: grayson davenport hawthorne is sick. luckily his beloved girlfriend is there to help him.

pairing: grayson x reader (implied f!)

content (genre and warnings): reader's gender is not specified but 'girlfriend' is used once, fluff 100% fluff, banter, sickfic, grayson folds for reader, just grayson getting the love he deserves

word count: 0.5 k

"Gray?", you called out sleepily, half awake, but fully aware of the warm, shirtless body beside you. Grayson's hand was firmly wrapped around your waist, pulling your back even closer to his chest, if that was possible.

"You feel hot", you continued, propping on your elbows to look at his face properly. His normally perfect hair was dishevelled, but he still managed to look perfect. The kind of perfection which gave you butterflies.

"I know you find me hot, darling, but it isn't a reason to break our peaceful slumber in the middle of the night, is it?", Grayson answered, half annoyed, half amused, his voice even deeper than usual. He opened his eyes to look at you properly, running his hand through his hair.

"Not like that!", you gasped, as your cheeks burned red. "I'm saying, I think you have a fever."

"What?", your boyfriend asked with pure confusion painted all over his face. He looked absolutely adorable; it was an extremely rare sight.

"A Hawthorne doesn't get sick", he scoffed, as if you had told a dad joke. He was now fully awake and fully annoyed.

"Being a Hawthorne doesn't mean you're immune to diseases", you countered, exasperated, which was justified due to his utterly ridiculous statement. "Unless your sadistic psychopathic grandpa altered your genes to make you immune. Wouldn't be surprising, actually."

Grayson threw you a look and you rolled your eyes. You put your palm flat on his forehead and flinched back.

"You're burning!", you said, concerned, lines etching on your forehead. You stood up and rummaged through the bed-side table, and retrieved a thermometer with a victorious smile.

"Here", you tossed it to him. "Take your temperature, I'll be right back with some medicine."

You quickly ran and brought the paracetamol with a glass of water. He protested, but swallowed it once you glared at him. Yes, the all feared Grayson Hawthorne folded at your one glance.

"Now rest up", you ordered, getting into bed beside him, sitting up against the headboard. He took your hand and patted his head. You sighed, moving his head onto your lap, running your fingers through his hair, just how he liked it.

"Who would think that Grayson Davenport Hawthorne cannot sleep without his girlfriend playing with his hair", you giggled and he blushed from embarrassment. Oh, how you wanted to snap a picture right there and then, and then trade it with Jameson or Xander for some "Hawthorne gossip".

"Oh shut it", he mumbled as he snuggled closer to you, drifting asleep.

©reyna-obsessed | Not to be reposted, translated or copied on any platform

tags: @reminiscentreader @shuhuaspookie @loife1m @that-multi-fandom-hijabi @moondust-on-the-hijabi

[noctusfury]

Did Astrid Inherit Stoick's Axe? (HTTYD 3 Theory)

Hello, everyone! Today we'll dive into another HTTYD 3 topic that's been on my mind for a while now.

It's after I saw this ax.

Like, this seriously surprised me when I first watched this. I was already used to her usual ax, so I thought it'd just be her ax — a gift from Hiccup after losing her other one at the end of RTTE — that she normally fights with, like here. 👇🏻

In the beginning, when the Riders go for one of their many raids to free dragons, we see Astrid fighting with her normal ax.

But in much of the film, we see her using the ax that suspiciously looks like Stoick's ax.

At first, I had thought she was using Hunter axes, but she's been using that ax throughout her fights with the remnants of Drago's minions.

Another example is the scene down below, during their final battle against their foes, we see Astrid with that ax again.

This is seriously making me think that this is Stoick's ax that she inherited, having switched her old ax for his! 👀 Which would be so cool and so touchingly wholesome. 😭

Of course, another option is that she just has another ax on standby made in likeness of Stoick's ax thanks to Gobber. 🤷‍♂️

But I actually really like the idea of Astrid inheriting the ax of her father-in-law. I think it's super wholesome. 🥰😭

What do you guys think? Do you find the theory plausible?

Long Live the Night!

— Noctus Fury