#january jameson
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The fact these are so accurate is scary…
@thewhitespiderwitch @whosafraidoflittleoldme17 idk who else to tag-
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January 9, 2023
Happy 68 Birthday to J.K. Simmons.
#JK Simmons#Happy Birthday#J Jonah Jameson#John Jonah Jameson Jr#John Jonah Jameson#Spider-Man Far From Home#Far From Home#Spider-Man No Way Home#No Way Home#Marvel Cinematic Universe#MCU#Marvel#Venom Let There Be Carnage#Let There Be Carnage#Sony's Spider-Man Universe#SSU#Sony Pictures#January#2023
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HAPPY 68TH BIRTHDAY, JK SIMMONS!!!
#happy birthday#actor#happy birthday 2023#january 2023#january 9#hbo oz#j jonah jameson#capricorn#spider man mcu#la la land#juno
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NEON LIGHTS
Pairing (Original Characters):
Jameson Lucas (Aaron Pierre) x Imani St. Cirie (Megan thee Stallion) Genie Adesanya (Jayme Lawson) x Ellington “EJ” Dupree (Kelvin Harrison Jr.)
Chapters:
Neon Lights Masterlist
Chapter Synopsis: A year has passed since Imani and Jameson's painful breakup. Once again, fate draws the two together again...but it's not as joyful reunion as either thought they'd have.
Warnings: smut (18+), toxic relationship, mentions of therapy, out of control drinking, and emotional breakdowns, sex (p in v, creampie, dirty talk) -- if we missed anything, let us know!
Word Count: 8k
Divider Template: @cafekitsune
Notes:
The following characters are original creations. Their voice claims are Usher / Lucky Daye (Jameson) & Summer Walker / SZA (Imani). We have no affiliation to any of those artists.
Anaïs Lucas sat at her writing desk, the faint scent of her signature jasmine lingering in the air. The room was quiet, save for the rhythmic ticking of the antique clock on the wall. She flipped through the pile of papers in front of her, gaze landing on the embossed invitations for Jameson’s album release party.
Pride made her smile. Her son had an advantage when he got into the industry, yes. He had her name and his good looks but nobody could ever pretend her baby couldn’t sing or that he didn’t work his ass to keep what he got. After he announced he was pushing back his album last winter, Anaïs watched people doubt him. Come January 2026 – a few short weeks from then – they would know that he was worth the wait.
She picked one up, running her fingers over the gold lettering.
You are cordially invited to the premiere of Midnight & Dawn A celebration of James Lucas’ third album
It was elegant, timeless—everything she’d expect from her son’s team. Yet, as perfect as it seemed, something was missing.
Or rather, someone.
The party was in a matter of days and she knew for a fact that Imani wasn’t on the guest list. It made sense. The two had broken up and hadn’t so much as whispered each other’s name in public. Imani had moved on. Jameson had moved on. The cute little girl she’d seen him out with – but had yet to meet – seemed to be distracting him just enough.
But she knew her son. She knew what he wanted. She tried not to be that kind of mother but she couldn't help herself. He was her only child and she wanted him to be happy. She just wouldn't be mentioning any of this to Toni, Imani's aunt and her closest friend.
Anaïs reached for her phone, dialing a number she knew by heart. ���Anderson? It’s Anaïs.” Her voice was warm but commanding, the kind that left little room for argument.
Anderson Allen was the head of public relations at Jameson’s label. He had insisted on signing a deal with a label that didn’t feature his mother but it didn’t mean that she didn’t have connections. “Ms. Lucas! What a surprise. How can I help you?”
“I was getting ready for Jamie’s party,” she began, her tone casual but deliberate. "But I heard that the guest list wasn’t complete. You all work so hard over there. I would hate for an omission to ruin the party."
Anderson hesitated. “Omission?”
“Yes. Imani St. Cirie,” Anaïs said smoothly.
The pause on the other end of the line was longer this time. “I—I wasn’t sure if that would be appropriate, given their history. Jameson hasn’t mentioned—”
Anaïs cut him off with a light laugh. “Oh, Andy, let’s not overthink this. Imani is an important part of Jameson’s life, personally and professionally. Inviting her would be…a gesture of goodwill. Besides, I’m sure she’d appreciate the opportunity to celebrate his success.”
Anderson’s voice was cautious. “I suppose we could add her to the list…”
“Wonderful,” Anaïs said, her smile bright. “I’d like to personally handle delivering her invitation. Consider it my little project.”
“Of course, Ms. Lucas. I’ll have one prepared and sent to your house immediately.”
“You’re a gem, Anderson. Thank you.”
Anaïs ended the call and leaned back in her chair, a satisfied expression on her face. She didn’t need anyone’s permission to do what she believed was right for her baby.
When the invitation arrived later that afternoon, Anaïs carefully wrote Imani’s name on the envelope in her graceful script. She slipped it into a sleek courier envelope and sealed it with a flourish.
“Deliver this directly to Ms. St. Cirie,” she instructed the courier who arrived at her door less than an hour later. “Make sure it’s in her hands before the day is over.”
As the courier left, Anaïs poured herself a celebratory glass of champagne. She wasn’t blind to the complications of Jameson and Imani’s past, but sometimes, fate needed a little help—and Anaïs Lucas was more than happy to provide it.
The studio was alive with energy, even though it was just the two of them. EJ asked for them to run through the albums again. They'd been previewed for the label, accepted, turned in, and there was release party planned for the next night...but still. He wanted to hear the album one more time. Jameson didn't hesitate to go. As the final song climaxed, EJ poured whiskey into two glasses. He slid one across the console to Jameson, who sat slouched in his chair.
“To the masterpiece,” EJ said, raising his glass. “A double-disk album. That’s some legendary-level ambition from my boy.”
Jameson laughed, shaking his head as he reached for the glass. "Very glad I could surprise you all."
EJ snorted. "Hey! I believed in you always. It was touch and go there for a while for everybody else. When you pushed the album back, them niggas started getting nervous. But I knew...my boy was gone get into his bag. I just ain't expect two damn albums at once."
Jameson smirked, tapping his glass against EJ’s before taking a sip. “Here’s hoping they don't flop.”
“Flop?” EJ scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “You’re about to shut the whole industry down. Tomorrow night’s party is gonna be the start of something huge. We need to celebrate. Let’s go grab a drink. Celebrate properly.”
Jameson shook his head, setting the glass down as he finished off the amber liquid. “Un-uh. I’m good, man. I’m tired as fuck. You kept me chained to the recording booth most of the year. I'm going home. Getting in the bed.”
EJ smiled at his friend. “You sure? A little fun won’t kill you.” “Yeah, I’m sure,” Jameson said.
With nothing left to do, EJ finished his drink and threw his hands up. "Alright. I did my best. Aye...I'm proud of you."
Jameson wrinkled his nose, standing from his seat and grabbing his jacket. "Don't get soft on me and shit."
EJ followed his movements, a serious expression on his face. "I'm for real. I was worried about you. Not because of the album. Just because you're my friend. You came out the other side of that shit and I'm proud. I was glad when you stopped drinking every day and started getting fresh air but...therapy? Channeling your shit into music? Camille? You’re looking ahead. I'm happy for you, man."
Even without him saying her name, she lingered between them. Imani was the unspoken, untouched aspect of his life that he still couldn't face. Still, he knew EJ meant well so Jameson smiled. “Thank you. For everything. You been solid while I got myself together. I owe you, E.”
It was a rare moment when the two stopped teasing each other enough to express what they felt. If Genie was his sister, EJ was his brother. He didn’t know who he’d be without either of them. Before he could change his mind, Jameson leaned in and gave EJ a tight hug. It only lasted a second but he could feel the other man hug him back.
“Alright. Enough of that.” EJ muttered, breaking away and shoving Jameson’s shoulder playfully. “Go home. Go be boring. I’m going to kiss my girlfriend until she blushes.”
He still couldn't wrap his head around EJ and Genie. When Genie had shyly told him she was dating EJ, his first reaction had been disbelief. He never felt a vibe between them but over the next few months, EJ had proved he was crazy about Genie. So Jameson stepped back. He didn't kick up a fuss or cause a problem. When he found time to get out of his own head, he was happy for them.
It was an innocent statement but Jameson recoiled, holding his hand over his ears. “Ew. Don’t tell me nothing you and Genie got going on.” He quickly picked up his jacket, shrugging it on while EJ laughed, calling out to him.
“You better lock Camille down so you can learn from us!”
Jameson walked through his front door and immediately noticed something was off. The lights in the dining room were dimmed, candles flickering on the table, and soft jazz played from the speakers. He’d left the house silent and dark before going to meet EJ. Only three people had a key beside him. His mother, who was not going to set a scene. Genie, who never used it. And EJ, who he just left. Jameson rounded the corner of his living room, entering the kitchen. There stood a woman, at his sink, with her back to him. He recognized her immediately. The messy way she piled her dark brown hair on the top of her head gave it away.
Camille.
There was something about the way she carried herself—an effortless elegance like she owned the space around her. As one of the most famous young models in the industry, Camille was a striking woman. She held her head high no matter what, her posture perfect. She moved around his kitchen as if this was her home. It was the same way she had approached him – like he was already hers. He admired it, even if it reminded him of someone else, someone he couldn’t quite shake.
“Camille?” he called, dropping his keys on the counter.
She jumped, whirling around with wide eyes. She was wearing an apron with splashes of water on it over her sleek black dress. “You’re…You’re home early.” There were plates on his table, a romantic dinner for two was the obvious aim and he softened. They were casual. Beyond casual but she always took care of him.
Jameson raised an eyebrow, slipping back into the moment. “Am I not supposed to be here?” He asked her, shrugging out of his jacket as he moved further into the kitchen. “How’d you get in?”
“EJ came to let me in before he met you.” She said softly, her gaze following his movements – lingering on his forearms before she turned back to turn the running water off. “H-He was supposed to keep you out for another hour.”
And then it all made sense. The fact that he’d called him out at all to ‘listen’ to an album they’d been listening to for almost a year. Then to want to go out for drinks afterward? His best friend was trying his hand at matchmaking and Jameson couldn’t blame him. Camille was good to him. He’d be a liar to say she wasn’t.
“Ah,” Jameson said, nodding his head. “So, that’s why he was so insistent on hanging out tonight.” He stepped closer, tossing his jacket onto the counter before leaning against it, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “Sorry I ruined the surprise.”
Camille pouted but the second she got a good look at him, she brightened and the annoyance melted away. “I thought we could celebrate your album being finished. Just the two of us. I’m happy for you.”
Jameson smiled, feeling a flicker of warmth in his chest. “Thank you. Thank you for coming. Thank you for caring.” He reached out, tugging her closer using the apron. “What’s for dinner?”
“Caprese salad, seared scallops with risotto, and white chocolate raspberry cheesecake.” “Sounds very impressive.” “It is. I slaved over a stove for you.” “I’m flattered.” “You should be. Not all of my friends get this kind of treatment.” “No?” “Un-uh.” “Damn. I must be really good in bed.”
Camille burst out laughing, slapping her hand against his chest. “You’re aight.”
“That wasn’t a no so I don’t think I was wrong.” Jameson teased her, leaning in to kiss her cheek softly. He released the apron before wrapping his arm around her to untie it. When he brought the strap over her head, he tossed it onto the kitchen island
“Jameson! We have dinner. I already prepared the–” “Put it in the oven. We’ll eat it later.”
He didn’t have to explain any further. She watched him pluck a fork from his kitchen drawer and then she went to do exactly as he told her to do. Jameson waited patiently, taking a seat on a bar stool and pulling the cheesecake toward him. Once she was done and the food was set aside, he patted the stool next to him. “C’mon. Get off your feet.”
In her Chanel dress and high heels, Camille made herself comfortable.
They settled at the kitchen counter, side by side on barstools, sharing bites of the rich dessert. Jameson fed her from his fork, kissed her, and put aside the fact that he felt a twinge of guilt for bringing her into his house. This was good. He was moving forward as EJ said. There was nothing wrong with that.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Jameson told her softly, offering her another bite of cheesecake. When she took it, he followed it with a kiss. Light and sweet. She leaned into him, silently asking for more. Instead, Jameson offered her more cheesecake. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.”
She glared at him before his confession became clear. Cami gave him a bright smile, her tongue cleaning the whipped cream her mouth left behind on the fork before she spoke. “There is really nowhere else I’d rather be.”
Imani ran her hands over her dress as she looked over her appearance in the mirror. She did a small turn to the left and then the right to see. No flaws. She looked damn good as usual. She sported a new blonde hair color with hints of pink, a brown sheer dress that accented her curves and left little to the imagination, and her wrist and neck were dazzled in diamonds. It was perfect. Undoubtedly, a ten out of ten. Yet, she sighed and turned her body once more like something would change to make it even better.
“Girl, if you don’t get out that mirror and go to that party, I’m a drag you there myself.” Her hairstylist said. Imani chuckled. “You look good. Now go get your man.”
She waved the woman off. “It ain’t even like that!” She hadn’t seen Jameson since their break-up last year. She only knew him through TV screens, magazines, and as a voice blaring through the club speakers. He was no longer the man that held her at night, told her she was beautiful or showered her with kisses. For the first time since they met, he was James Lucas. And she hated it.
Imani said her goodbyes to her glam team as she sauntered to her door and then to the SUV. She slipped inside then the driver shut the door behind her. She pulled the ring on her ring finger on and off then on and off all over again.
It was the ring that Jameson gifted to her for Christmas last year. She pulled it out of her jewelry box when she was anxious, only wearing it at home to avoid speculation from the media and her fans. It was her stress reliever that no one knew about. But tonight, it served a different purpose.
She wanted Jameson back. Bad. And Imani believed wearing his ring to his album release party would show him that she hadn’t forgotten about him. How could she? He was all she ever thought about. She thought she did the right thing when she ended things with him. They were just going to end in heartbreak like they always did. Imani thought breaking the cycle would solve everything. Yes, she was heartbroken when it happened but she always believed she would get over it and feel better. But she didn’t. She never felt more alone.
For the first three months after their breakup, she distracted herself with work. She dove head first into Diary’s promotional rollout. Anything her label or management wanted her to do, she did it to avoid being with her deafening thoughts of regret and being alone. But her promo tour only lasted for so long. Then she tried partying. She tried drinking. She tried being with other people, but they never lasted long. All she did was compare them to Jameson.
Despite all her efforts, nothing and no one could fill the void in her heart left by Jameson. His memory lingered in every corner of her mind. She wrestled with herself over the thought of reaching out to him, hesitant and afraid of what she might find. What if he had moved on? What if he wanted nothing to do with her anymore? She knew little about his current life, only catching glimpses through a few tabloids. According to them, he now resided in the bustling city of New York and was dating a woman named Camille, but they didn’t seem serious at all. Maybe she still had a chance.
When she received a mysterious invite to his album release party, it felt like fate. A sign that she needed to make a move and get him back. She couldn’t let fear hold her back this time. So she booked a flight to New York with her trusted glam squad to help her and now her plan was underway.
She was still fidgeting with her ring once they reached the club. The blinding lights of the paparazzi never phased her. She didn’t mind the attention. But tonight, their presence only added to the growing uneasiness and heat rising in her skin. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself not to let them distract her from her goal — winning Jameson back.
With a sigh, she stepped out of the SUV and was immediately swarmed by a frenzy of flashing cameras and shouting reporters. The familiar chaos only felt like an obstacle in her path.
“Imani, you look stunning! Love the new hair.” “Are you here to see James?” “How do you feel about him and Camille? Do you know that they showed up here together?”
The last question nearly stopped her in her tracks. Her heart fell back into the abyss of despair that hope once saved it from. Jameson and Camille? She thought they weren’t serious, so why the fuck was she at the party with him? Fuck! Imani should have stayed home. Too many eyes were on her to turn back now. Instead, she simply smiled at the question and entered the club.
After she was inside, she made a beeline for the bathroom, ignoring all of the eyes and whispers. Imani needed to take his ring off before anyone noticed. She walked inside, thankful that no one was in there. Then she closed and locked the door so no one could see her lose it.
She felt like such a fool. There was a war raging inside of her. Of course, he moved on. It had been a year. Did she expect him to wait forever? But the other side screamed, how dare he move on? He told her they were soulmates. He said he would never give up on them. Was it all a lie? “Just twenty minutes.” She mumbled to herself. “I can do twenty then I’ll leave and go home.”
Imani exhaled deeply. She pulled the ring off of her finger and shoved it into her clutch. She unlocked the bathroom door, opening it, only to be met with Genie.
She stared at her like a prey making eye contact with its predator. Her mind had been so clouded with thoughts of Jameson that she didn’t even think about their storm of friendship. She hadn’t seen Genie since last year. She ignored her texts and phone calls like her best friend was a scorned lover. One day, Imani was going to explain, she just didn’t imagine that day to be today.
The two stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. Imani finally parted her lips to speak. “Genie, I-” She couldn’t even get her sentence out before the woman moved past her and into the bathroom. Imani sighed, deciding that tonight wasn’t the best time to discuss their broken friendship. She walked back into the club and looked for Toni, the only one she talked to during the whole year. Her energy turned into a dark cloud and she needed someone to brighten it if she was going to make it to twenty minutes.
He heard the whispers before he saw her. Imani had shown up.
And finally, he saw her.
For the first time in a fucking year, he laid eyes on her. Not a picture. Not an interview or a photoshoot. He saw her.
Relief hit him so hard that he exhaled sharply. She was okay. After Christmas last year, she had essentially disappeared from his life. He didn’t call, he didn’t text, he had even chosen to unfollow her on Instagram but Jameson quickly found out that he wasn’t the only one left behind. Genie had lost Imani as well.
The two didn’t talk anymore. He had nothing to go by that she was okay. The blogs reported every lover and every move she made…but none had been able to tell him if she was genuinely doing okay. He could see for himself – in the flesh – that she was doing damn good.
She was standing alone in the quickly filling club, framed by the soft glow of lights. He could see her observing the crowd, looking for someone. Was it him? When their eyes met, she seemed frozen. Her eyes went wide and he knew immediately she wasn’t looking for him.
He felt a hand against his stomach and immediately broke eye contact with her. Camille was gazing up at him, a question in her eyes. Jameson had to steady himself before he smiled at her. “I’ll be back.” He heard himself tell her but knew that he shouldn’t leave. He did it anyway, walking across the room as every thought in the world passed through his mind.
The relief that he felt ended, replaced by anxiety. Why did she come? Was she trying to support him? Was she curious about the music? Did she want to rub it in his face that he had lost her? Did she want him to see how fucking good she looked? All of the questions he asked himself set him on edge but he didn’t stop moving in her direction.
His eyes ran from her blonde hair down to her tan dress. And a wave of lust hit him.
The fabric clung to her body. It was barely there. He could see her body, sculpted abs and thick thighs. Perfectly measured underwear that hid…Well, he knew what it hid. He was so intimately acquainted with her body that he could find her in the damn dark. He couldn’t think like this. Jameson shook his head to clear the thoughts but flashes of memories raced through his mind. Late nights with him sinking his teeth into her thighs as they trembled, the way her abdomen contracted when she was coming around his fingers. The way she called out for him, the word ‘Daddy’ fell from her lips. All of it came rushing back to him with stunning clarity. Shit! No. No!
He wasn’t doing this. Camille was watching him. He had to get right. So many fucking therapy sessions and he was backsliding into chaos already.
By the time he got to her, he had control of himself again. “Hi.” He said softly.
He watched as she slowly turned to look at him. There was no ignoring one another. Not right then. Her lips curved into a smile but he knew right then that something was wrong. It didn’t meet her eyes. She didn’t light up the way she usually did when she was happy.
“Hi, Jameson.” “Thank you for coming. It’s nice to see you.” “I…It’s nice to see you too.”
A lull of silence hit them and awkwardness set in. Before, they could talk about anything and everything but now? He didn’t know what to say.
EJ found Camille standing near the edge of the room, sipping a glass of champagne with practiced ease. She looked every bit the supermodel she was, tall and poised, her sleek black gown clinging to her statuesque frame. But her eyes—dark, searching—betrayed her. She was watching Jameson, observing the way his gaze seemed to drift toward Imani no matter where she stood. Even when he excused himself from her side and greeted other partygoers, everybody in the room knew where he was going.
EJ stepped up beside her, his presence casual but deliberate. “You’re handling this well,” he said, his tone low enough to keep their conversation private from prying ears.
Camille turned her head slightly, offering him a polite smile. “Handling what?”
He gave her a knowing look, one that made her sigh and take another sip of her drink. She broke the pretense that nothing was happening. “You’re not blind, Camille. You see the way he looks at her. And the way she avoids looking at him. There’s history there—deep, messy history. You’ve got to know that.”
Camille’s expression didn’t waver, but she set her glass down on the nearby table, folding her hands neatly in front of her. “I know,” she said simply.
EJ raised an eyebrow. “And you good with that?”
She shrugged, the movement graceful but dismissive. “What am I supposed to do? Pretend it doesn’t exist? Jameson’s been honest with me about Imani. I know what she means to him.”
EJ leaned in slightly, his voice dropping. “What she means to him and what she still means to him might not be the same thing. I’m not saying this to scare you off, but if you’re serious about Jameson, you need to be ready to fight for him. Because that connection they have? It’s not something that just disappears.”
Camille tilted her head, studying him for a moment. “Do you think I’m not serious about him?”
EJ hesitated, then shook his head. “I think you care about him. I think you’re good for him, too. But I also think Jameson’s still figuring out what he wants. And if you’re not careful, you might end up hurt. She’s got this... gravitational pull on him, sure. But it’s not healthy. You’ve seen how far he’s come this past year. That’s because of you, Camille. Not her.”
Camille’s lips curved into a small, wry smile. “I appreciate the concern, EJ. Really, I do. But I’m not here to fight anyone for Jameson. If he wants to be with me, he knows where I am. And if he doesn’t?” She spread her hands, her tone light but firm. “Then I’ll let him go. I’m not the kind of woman who clings to someone who doesn’t want to stay.”
EJ studied her, a flicker of respect crossing his face. “You’re a lot calmer about this than I expected.”
Camille chuckled softly, her gaze drifting back toward Jameson, who had finally approached Imani. “I’ve spent my entire career competing—for jobs, for recognition, for respect. But love? That’s not something you should have to fight for. Either it’s there, or it’s not. And if Jameson’s heart is still with Imani, then there’s no point in pretending otherwise.”
EJ nodded slowly, impressed by her composure. “Fair enough. Just... be careful. He’s a good guy, but if things get messy—”
“They won’t,” Camille interrupted gently. “Because I won’t let them. I care about Jameson, but I care about myself too. If he can’t give me what I deserve, I’ll walk away. Simple as that.”
EJ exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly. Camille smiled again, this time with a touch of warmth. “Thanks, EJ. But don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine, no matter what happens.”
EJ glanced back toward Jameson, then back at Camille. He nodded, a silent acknowledgment of their conversation, and stepped away, leaving her to watch Jameson from afar, her expression unreadable.
“You look good.” He said softly, immediately regretting the words. “I mean, I like your dress.” Nope, that was fucked up too.
“Thanks,” Imani looked at his outfit. It was already difficult for her to face him, but did he have to look handsome too? This may have been the second hardest thing she’s ever done. “You look uh—you look nice too.”
He peered down at his fit. All black, Gucci. Jameson lifted his hand, pressing it to his sleeve as if he just realized he was wearing clothes worth five grand. “Thank you. It’s just…something thrown together. I’m glad you came. Really.”
“Yeah, I’m glad I did too. Congrats on the album, Jameson. I’m—“ she paused, searching for the right words to say. “really happy for you.”
“Really?” He tilted his head, peering down at her. “Then why do you look upset?”
“I’m fine. It’s nothing.” Imani answered quickly. She wasn’t fine at all. She made the wrong decision to come to this party and now, she had to face a best friend who probably hated her and an ex she was still in love with. She was mentally kicking herself. But he didn’t need to know that.
He knew it wasn’t true but he couldn’t exactly call her on it. That wasn’t his place anymore. “Mhm.” He said softly, giving a nod. “I…I really do hope you’re okay, Imani. Things ended between us but I want you to be happy. Always.”
“I..I want you to be happy too,” she said, folding her arms over her chest. “I’m glad to see that you are. I really am.”
“Thank you. It…it took a while to get back to being happy.” The conversation between them was so fucking stiff and he hated it. He watched her fold her arms against her chest, knowing there was a wall between them. They talked to each other like strangers. Once upon a time, he could tell her anything. They could say everything to one another – except the shit that really mattered. And now they couldn’t say anything at all. “Finishing the album helped. Wouldn’t have been able to do that without a lot of people. You included.”
She nodded. “Well, I’m glad I could help. I can’t wait to hear it.” Imani smiled. “Uh, I’m going to go look for Toni now. I’ll see you around?”
He opened his mouth to say something – anything – but instead, he felt a hand against his arm. Jameson turned to look down at her, surprised by her presence. “There you are.” She said softly.
Imani looked between the couple, still with a smile that he couldn’t tell if it was fake or not. “Hi, I’m Imani.” She reached her hand out. Her eyes glanced down at his wrist. She looked back at Jameson with narrowed eyes. The watch on his wrist looked like the one she had sent him a year. Why the fuck was he wearing that? While he was with another woman?
His head turned so quickly that he almost sprained his damn neck. He watched as Imani introduced herself to Camille, in such a friendly way that he was almost offended. Damn. She could at least pretend to be jealous. Camille gave her a smile in return and reached out to grasp Imani’s hand and Jameson inhaled sharply. He did not see this coming and he wasn't sure if he liked it.
“Nice to meet you.” She said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Imani let go of Camille’s hand. “Nice to meet you as well. You’re very pretty.” She looked back at Jameson. Then at Camille. “Well, I’m going to leave you guys to it. Have a good night.” She said, turning around and walking away quickly before she could hear another word from either of them.
It took a minute for Genie to pull herself together. When she passed Imani, it had broken her heart not to say anything but she couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t believe any of this shit. When Jameson and Imani broke up, her heart broke for them both. She didn’t know the details but knew it was bad. Jamie was drinking heavily and Imani was out of contact. But she kept trying. She would start by sending a message every week. Then it became every single day. She wanted to be there for Imani. She begged her to reach out if she needed anything…and she never did.
It was like she lost her best friend. At first, Genie grieved. Every time something wonderful happened with EJ, she wanted to pick up the phone and call Imani…but she knew she wouldn’t answer. Then the grief turned into anger. She resented being so easy to forget.
“I shouldn’t have come,” she finally said, her voice shaky as she approached EJ. She could see his jovial attitude shift when he saw the look on her face. “I don’t know what I thought I’d feel seeing her again, but this wasn’t it.” She hadn’t even known Imani would be there but she knew that maybe there would be a good chance. Still, seeing her again had been a shock to the system.
EJ ushered her from the main floor, getting her comfortable in an isolated corner as he watched her with a steady, concerned gaze. “You wanted to see your best friend. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“She’s not my best friend anymore,” Genie snapped, then immediately winced at her attitude. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to snap at you. I just…” She blinked back tears, pressed her hands against her temples. “I mean... she was. For so long. But now? I can barely look at her. She completely shut me out.”
EJ leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her temple. “It’s probably not anything you did, baby. Maybe Imani needed space. It had to hurt ending things with Jay.”
Genie looked up at him, her eyes still glistening with unshed tears. “Of course she’s hurting. I know that. I just... I’ve tried, EJ. I’ve called, texted, even sent emails. Nothing. And now, after all this time, she shows up here, at Jameson’s party of all places, looking like she’s completely fine. Like she doesn’t even care that I miss her.”
Her voice broke on the last word, and she quickly turned away, pretending to adjust the strap of her dress. EJ sighed and crossed the room to her, his movements slow and deliberate, giving her space but offering his presence.
“She does care,” he said softly, though there was a flicker of something sharper in his tone. “You don’t just forget someone like you, Genie. Maybe she’s just... not ready to face everything yet.”
Genie let out a bitter laugh, swiping at her cheek. “It’s been a year. How much longer do I have to wait? How much longer do I have to pretend it doesn’t hurt that she’s just... gone?”
EJ placed a hand on her shoulder, grounding her. “You don’t have to pretend with me. You’re allowed to feel this. It’s okay to be angry, to be sad, to miss her. Just don’t let it eat you up inside.”
Genie turned to him, the tears finally spilling over. “I don’t know how to let it go. She was my person, EJ. And now, it’s like I don’t even exist to her.”
EJ’s jaw tightened as he pulled her into a hug, his arms wrapping around her tightly. He couldn’t help the frustration bubbling in his chest—not just for what Imani’s absence had done to Genie but for the pain she had caused Jameson too. He didn’t say it aloud, but part of him felt like Imani had been selfish, leaving behind the people who had loved her most.
“You exist,” he murmured against her hair, pushing aside his bitterness for Genie’s sake. “And you’re not alone. I’ve got you.”
For a moment, Genie let herself believe him. In the quiet of EJ’s arms, she let herself grieve, not just for the friendship she had lost but for the part of herself that felt like it had been left behind with Imani.
EJ held her tighter, his mind drifting back to Imani’s face at the party. He’d keep his thoughts to himself, but if she ever wanted back into their lives, she’d have to prove she deserved it.
Imani’s patience was wearing thin, and she couldn’t last another minute in this crowded club. What the hell was she thinking, flying thousands of miles to see a man she hadn’t spoken to in a year? She shoved her way through the throngs of people, not bothering to find her aunt in the chaos. All she wanted was to escape, to retreat to her hotel room and try to make sense of everything.
As she burst through the club doors and into the cool night air, Imani finally exhaled the breath she had been holding since running into Genie. But it didn’t bring any relief. Everything felt like shit and it was all her fault. The weight of loneliness settled on her shoulders like a familiar burden, one that always found its way back to her despite her best efforts to keep it at bay. But this time it hit harder than ever before and threatened to swallow her whole.
Before she could fully immerse herself in the depths of her sadness, a familiar voice jolted Imani out of her thoughts. “Mani? Leaving so soon?” It was Jameson, accompanied by Camille, their arms entwined as they walked towards her. Imani’s heart dropped at the sight, knowing that she was once in Camille’s place. A pang of envy and longing washed over her, but she quickly masked it with a forced smile. “Oh, I’m not feeling well, so I’m a head out,” she lied, trying to sound nonchalant. Jameson’s eyes narrowed slightly as if he could sense something was off. But then Camille leaned in closer and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, distracting him. “I know y’all ain’t out here to bring me back.”
Camille’s laughter tinkled through the air, her eyes sparkled as she glanced at Jameson. “No, we decided to leave early.” she said with a grin playing on her lips. Imani squinted at Jameson, studying his facial features intently. There was something off about him. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
“Why are you leaving your album release party so soon? Is everything alright?” Imani’s voice was gentle but curious, her gaze searching Jameson’s face for any clues. “I’m just tired,” he answered, but there was a slight quiver in his voice that betrayed his words. Imani could see the lie in his eyes, but she knew better than to press the issue. That was Camille’s job now.
“Jameson and I are going to go get some rest,” Camille said softly, doting on a 6’3 grown ass man like he was a baby. She wanted to hate it...but she knew she'd done the same when they were together. Imani’s eyes flicked back to Camille as she pat his chest and gazed at him. She tried to think of something to say next to the couple, but she was too focused on the way she said his name. It replayed over and over again in her mind. Her stomach was in knots at the sound of it.
She was reminded of all of the times she used to call him that. Then she looked back at Camille. She was still looking at Jameson with the same look Imani used to have. Imani hated how he could invoke that look in another woman. She was the only one who should get to experience the look of love, lust, and admiration. She hated him for it.
Where the fuck was her driver? She pulled her phone out of her clutch, opening it with her Face ID. She tapped over onto her call log, realizing that she never fucking called him. Imani was in such a rush to get away from the couple in the club that she forgot to do it. And yet, she still ended up face-to-face with them again. Fate wanted to torture her tonight.
Imani quickly tapped the contact name and asked the driver to come get her. Luckily, he was just around the corner. There was silence between the three of them. Everything she planned on saying to him before her arrival was thrown out of the window when she first arrived. It all had fallen to shit. Now, her imagination filled those spaces of broken words. All she could see was Camille and Jameson, full of lust, in his house together doing what she would have done to him after his album release party.
Thankfully for her, Imani’s driver finally pulled up and disrupted her thoughts. He got out and opened the door for her. She walked over to the SUV, stepping inside of the car. “I’ll see you guys later…” She said, looking over her shoulder. She hoped her words never came to fruition.
“Be safe and have a good night,” Jameson said lowly, watching her leave. She nodded, sitting down in the passenger seat of the vehicle. The driver closed the door. Once he pulled away from the curve, she pulled out the ring again. She toyed with it in her hands. Imani went into this party, hoping that the ring would spark a new meaning. She had no idea that meaning would be that it was her only connection to Jameson.
"You too quiet." Jameson muttered, pulling his hand from Camille's mouth. She gasped for breath when he did, immediately moaning out his name. "That's much better."
"Yes, baby. Right there. So good."
She was breathless as she clung to him. They were in the middle of his bed, she was on his lap -- long limbs wrapped around his neck and hips as she ground her hips against his.
Jameson groaned, feeling Camille's tightness stretch around him. Her enthusiasm was always a turn on and he let out a long, slow moan as he thrust deeper. Each powerful stroke, sending vibrations through her body that made her whimper in delight. Every time she moved on top of him, her breasts bounced enticingly against his chest, sending shivers down his spine.
"Ooh! D-Don't stop. Jamie! Just like that..."
The scent of sweat and sex filled the air as they moved together in perfect harmony. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room, mingling with their heavy breathing and tender moans. Camille's nails raked down his neck and back, leaving small trails of pleasure and pain that only fueled his desire further. He gripped her hips tightly, holding her close as they lost themselves in each other's touches.
He lifted his head to capture her mouth, tongue brushing against her own as he plunged deeper into her mouth -- imitating their movements. Their tongues danced together sensually while their bodies moved in rhythm on the bed beneath them. As he felt himself nearing climax, Jameson pulled back from the kiss to look into Camille's eyes - filled with lust and desire - before letting out a long growl.
"You like that, baby?" She asked him softly and Jameson nodded, words escaping him as his grip tightened on her hips. They'd been sleeping together long enough that she knew what it meant. She pushed her hands against his shoulders, legs unwinding from around him as he went crash back onto the bed. "Go ahead. Give it to me, Jamie." she whimpered.
Camille's nails dug into Jameson's skin as she rode him, leaving small crescents that stung but only made him harder. He groaned deeply, his hands finding purchase in the sheets as he arched his hips and thrust into her. He felt every curve of her body against him, every undulation sending shockwaves through his dick.
"That's what you want?" He asked her through gritted teeth. "Yes!" She responded, nodding her head. "I deserve it. I'm your good girl."
He couldn't take it much more. His head fell back onto the bed, eyes closed, but his hands knew where to go. He lifted them from the sheets, grasping her hip with the left and relentlessly rubbing at her clit with his right thumb. Camille's legs tightened against his outer thighs as she crumbled forward and came on top of him with a shout.
With a final thrust, Jameson cried out as he came inside her, their bodies trembling together in unison. As they came down from their high, Camille cuddled against Jameson's chest, their hearts beating in sync. She nibbled on his earlobe softly before pulling away slowly with a satisfied smile on her lips.
He sat in the dark in his living room, the only light coming from the faint glow of the city through the curtains. The house was silent, save for the occasional creak of the old floorboards settling. Jameson fiddled with the watch on his wrist, loosening the band and twisting it around, but he couldn’t bring himself to take it off.
Camille had gone to sleep hours ago, slipping into sleep with the ease of someone unburdened. For a couple of hours, he managed to forget…everything.
But when it was over, and Camille’s breathing had evened out beside him, he lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The weight of his thoughts returned with a vengeance, and they all centered on one person.
Imani.
The way she had looked at the party—poised but distant, like she was shielding herself from the room, from him—was burned into his memory. He couldn’t stop replaying the moment she left, her face unreadable as she slipped into the car. He had been overwhelmed by her presence, thrown off balance by the sight of her after so long.
When she had walked away, leaving him and Camille standing there, all he could do was grab a passing glass of champagne. Then another. He had swallowed down two before he realized what he was doing—regressing, using alcohol to dull the sharp edge of his emotions.
He had told Camille he wanted to leave. She didn’t hesitate, her concern for him evident as she agreed. But as they made their way out, they ran into Imani on the street.
The moment replayed in his mind like a loop he couldn’t escape. The brief, stilted conversation. The way she looked at him like she was holding back a storm of emotions. And then she was gone, slipping away into the night.
Her face was trapped in his mind now, every detail vivid and unrelenting. The way her lips pressed together as if holding back words. The flicker of something—pain? anger?—in her eyes. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.
All he wanted to do was fix it.
But that wasn’t his job anymore.
He brushed a hand over his head, exhaling sharply as he tried to shake off the thoughts. The urge to call her was overwhelming, a near-physical pull, but he knew it would be a mistake. One glimpse, one rushed conversation, and he was right back where he’d been months ago—thinking of her, wanting her, needing to know if she was okay.
He needed to get a damn grip.
Jameson sat up, running his hands over his face. The watch shifted on his wrist, its weight a constant reminder of the past he couldn’t quite let go of. The room felt too quiet, too still, and his thoughts too loud.
He stood, padding softly out of the living room and into the kitchen, boxers slung low on his hips. He poured himself a glass of water and leaned against the counter, staring out at the city lights.
He had made progress this year, clawing his way out of the darkness that had consumed him after their breakup. He had rebuilt his life piece by piece, and Camille had been a steady presence through it all. But tonight had unraveled something in him, and he hated that it was Imani who had the power to do that.
He sighed, setting the glass down. He couldn’t keep letting her haunt him like this. He wouldn’t.
#aaron pierre#megan thee stallion#aaron pierre fanfic#aaron pierre x black!oc#megan thee stallion fanfic#megan thee stallion x black!oc#original characters#celebrity fanfic#fic: neon lights#Spotify
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salt air, and the rust on your door ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖
prue `` ~ ୨୧ ♡ · she/her. hades’ fav daughter. legacy of hypnos. january capricorn. hellenism worshiper. certified coffee addict. horror movie enthusiast. avid book reader. silly bisexual. the sleepiest girl ever. percy jackson’s sweet girl. astronomy nerd. jameson hawthorne’s saccharine angel. annabeth chase’s gf.
master list ⋆˙⟡ request + blog rules ⋆˙⟡ currently ⋆˙⟡ socials ⋆˙⟡ my moots ⋆˙⟡ introductory post ⋆˙⟡ me if u care
༯ my inbox is always open for reqs and convos, don’t be shy!
♪ ༘⋆ on the radio… guilty as sin? by taylor swift (ttpd)
ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 … she is currently basking in the sun on the beach
⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡… her heart belongs to perseus jackson
… I never needed anything more!
© xoxochb. all work by me. plagiarism is prohibited. ꪆৎ
#xoxochb#my alt blog is @xoxoprue !#prue speaks ੈ✩‧₊˚#someone shut her ass up .ᐟ#prue’s navi .ೃ࿐#prue’s inbox ﹡ ֺ ۪ ❀#prue’s reblogs! ⋆⁺₊♡#prue’s reblogs! <3#talk to me in songs and poems ༉‧₊˚.#me core 💌#excellent fun til queue get to know her .ᐟ#— prue’s mooties 💘#prue’s fic recs ✧˖°#writing in my room ˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆#him 𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃#prue’s headphones ⋆。°🎧.⊹₊ ⋆
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Holiday Audio/Video Gifts!
For the holiday season, here are some audio gifts from various shows and one Phantom video! The link to them is here and the info is below the cut:
Happy holidays and I hope you are all having time for some rest!
Audios
POTO
Jon Robyns, Paige Blankson, Joe Griffiths-Brown, Kelly Glyptis, Matt Harrop, Adam Linstead, Francesca Ellis, David Kristopher Brown, Maiya Hikasa August 22, 2023; London
Tim Howar, Harriet Jones, Nadim Naaman, Lara Martins, Nicholas Garrett, Arvid Larsen, John Ellis, Valerie Cutko, Kelsi Boyden March 19, 2023; Greece
Josh Piterman, Corinne Cowling (u/s), Danny Whitehead, Katy Hanna (u/s), Ross Dawes, Kris Manuel (u/s), Sophie Caton (u/s), Paul Ettore Tabone, Georgia Ware October 17, 2019; London Matinee.
Jeremy Stolle (u/s), Samantha Hill, Greg Mills (u/s), Michele McConnell, Richard Poole (u/s), Tim Jerome, Ellen Harvey, Christian Sebek, Kara Klein, Scott Mikita (u/s) March 9, 2013; Broadway Matinee performance.
John Owen-Jones, Deborah Dutcher, Matthew Cammelle, Bruce Montague, Charles Shirvell, Margaret Mary Kane (u/s), Janet Murphy, Jeremy Secomb, Lucy Middleton January 5, 2002; London
Love Never Dies
Tam Mutu, Celia Graham, David Thaxton, Daniel Dowling August 25, 2011; London Tam Mutu's last performance.
Les Miserables
Christopher Jacobsen (u/s Jean Valjean), Stewart Clarke (Javert), Katie Hall (Fantine), Will Callan (Marius), Lulu-Mae Pears (Cosette), Amena El-Kindy (Eponine), Luke Kempner (Thenardier), Claire Machin (Madame Thenardier), Dejan Van der Flyert (Enjolras), Alex Shaw (Gavroche), Clohe Sullivan (Little Cosette), Tom Hext (Grantaire/Majordomo), Adam Pearce (Bishop/Claquesous), Ellie Ann Lowe (Factory Girl), Jordan Simon Pollard (u/s Foreman/Bujon), Matt Dempsey (Bamatabopis/Lesgles), Annabelle Aquino, Hazel Baldwin, Emily Olive Boyd, Ben Culleton, Matt Hayden, Sam Kipling, Anouk Van Lake, Harry Lake, Ben Oatley, Jonathan Stevens, Phoebe Williams, Ollie Wray September 28, 2023; London 15,000th show in London and the 5th show for the new company.
Sunset Boulevard
Nicole Scherzinger (Norma), Tom Francis (Joe Gillis), David Thaxton (Max von Mayerling), Grace Hodgett Young (Betty Shaefer), Ahmed Hamaad (Artie), Tyler Davis (Sheldrake), Charlotte Jaconelli (Johanna), Jon Tsouras (Cecil B. de Mille) September 28, 2023; London
Rebecca
Laureen Jones (I), Richard Carson (Maxim de Winter), Kara Lane (Mrs Danvers), Sara Harlington (Beatrice), Neil Moor (Giles), Piers Bate (Frank Crewley), David Breeds (Ben), Alex James Ward (Jack Favell), Shrley Jameson (Mrs Van Hopper), Nicholas Lumley (Colonel Julian) September 27, 2023; Off-West End
POTO Video
Ian Jon Bourg, Olivia Safe (u/s), Kyle Gonyea 2001; Hamburg, Germany VOB files. One of the most legendary Phantom's opposite one of the youngest Christine's!
#as always if any have to be removed do let me know!#audio gift#video gift#phantom of the opera#the phantom of the opera#les miserables#love never dies#rebecca#sunset boulevard#jon robyns#paige blankson#nicole scherzinger#ian jon bourg#kara lane#richard carson#christopher jacobsen#stewart clarke#katie hall#tam mutu#celia graham#tim howar#harriet jones#nadim naaman#jeremy stolle#samantha hill#greg mills#josh piterman#corinne cowling#danny whitehead
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Dear J*mmy, Jambalaya/Jimbalaya, Jimbo, Jimbortion/Jabortion, Jimbotron, James, Jamaica, J*m, Jimmistake, John, Jalifornia, Jingle balls, Jimothy, Jimmothy, Jerald, Jeraldine, Jamal, Jeezer, Jiddy, Jingo, Japarty, Jumbo, Jumbotron, , JCPenney, Jacuzzi, Juxtaposition, Jenga, Jiabortion, Jeopardy, Jumper Cable, Jump Rope, Jehovah's Witness, Judicial System, Jurassic Park, Jerusalem, Jackass, Jujutsu Kaisen, Janice, Jimberly, Jumanji, Jingle Bell(s), Jingle Ball(s), Jimonolophonigrams, Jary, Jamarld, Jarlod, Jisappointment, Jameson, Juray, Jury Duty, Jerry, Brony, Brony Jimmy, Horse Fucker, Stinkrat, Stinkhorse, Whore/Hoe/Slut, Jhore/Joe/Jlut, Prick, Prick Jimmy, Yimpy, Jurisdiction, Jurisdiction of the United States Supreme Court, Jingle Bingle, Johnny, Jurly, Jimstraining Order, Restraining Jorder, Jimstraining Jorder, Jail Time, Dickface, Jickface, Jojo Siwa/Jimjim Siwa, Jo-Pop, Joke, John Egbert, Jane Crocker, Joystick, Jeronicus Jangle, Javelin, Jack-o'-Lantern, Jart, Fart-Face, Fart-Jace, Jace, Jimbob, Jimboob, Jizz/Jiss, Jiss Stain/Jizz Stain, Jerome, Jeremiah, Jugatti, Jlorbo, Jaundice, Jorbinshlosch, Jimster, Juju On That Beat, Jake English, MiseryStick, Josh, Jimbruh, "I hate this man so much that I don't even wanna call him Jimmy. Jimmy is a nickname. Nicknames are reserved for friends, and James is no friend of mine.", Jolly Golly/Golly Jolly, Jolly Rancher, Gee Jummy Gumdrops, Jumbo Josh, Jimmy Neutron, Mr. Neutron, Jack Noir, Jetlag, Jimbob Squarepants, Jimbo Georgepants, Junkyard, Jingle, Jorts, Jam, Janga, Jenga, Jelly Bean, Jorbinshlosch, No Responsibility, He Who Shall Not Be Named, Chris McLean, Jimmerella, J. Jonah Jameson, That Fucker, MLP Fan, MLP Jan, Jim Cosby, Mr. Jands, Jreaky, Jill Yourself, Jake and the Neverland Pirates, Jammy, Jessie, Joshua, Jessily, Jake English, Joey Claire, Jury System, Jim Co-Pilot, Juancho, Jimbobtim Jiggle, Jailbird, Jrilly Jrease, Grilly Grease, Jrease, Jilly, Jirelly/Jrelly, Jimper, Jimmy Case/Jurly Case, Rapist/Japist, Responsibility J*m, Responsibility Denier, Responsibility Hour, Grease Man, Grease Jim, Grease Brony, Jimmy Jar, Jar, January, June, July, JimLy/Jimly, “Hero”, Jiggle my balls, Jungle Jim, Hawk Tuah on That Jang, Jeanits, Jemima, Junited Jates of Jamerica, The Joviet Union, The Rise and Fall of Jizzy Jardust and the Jiders from Jars, Julius, Julius Caesar, Jeaser, Jimborg, Jimmyjonga, Judge, Jimjams, Jorts, Jort Storm, Judy, Judge Judy, Judy Hopps Abortion Comic, Jneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis, The Jay Jarbor Jutcher, Jinsenberd, Jay, JSSR Jussia, Jorth Jorea, JGeometry JDash, JMy JLittle JPony, Jy Jittle Jony, It's JTimmy Time, Little JTimmy, Yawning, Jawny, Jimstewpit, Jimtopher, Jebastian, Jolin, Jiblet Neutron, Jill Jourself, Jasshole, Jurethra, Jalm Jree, Jojack, Jucking Jill Jourself, He Who Shall Not Be Named, Je Jho Jhall Jot Je Jamed, Clopper, Jlopper, Juicy Lucy, Juicy Jucy, Jopsticks, Jip Jalm, Jeyboard, Jmart Jreen JV, Jultraviolet Jays, Stupid Big Back, Jtupid Jig Jack, No Mewing Streak, Jo Jewing Jreak, Jhai Jestraunt, He Who Has No Gyatt, Je Jho Jas Jo Jyatt, Jyatt, Janum Jax, Jizzler, Johio, that ugly warty toad, Juber,, Jimdere Dev, Jeil Jaiman, Jinglebottom-Jiggedly, Joney, Jenitalia, Jatch, Jandals, Junglasses, Jirt, Jowtie, Jemininomenon, Jama a Jirl Jehind Jou, Jress to Jimpress, Jondom, Jirty Jisgusting, Jeroy Jenkins, HIS Name, Jigglydiggly, Jimamabob, Jebron James, John Jacob Jinglehimer Schmidt, Jershys Jocolate, Jimbabwe, Jujuju Jaisen, Jamaica, Jidonculous Jace, Jimmy Timmy, Jimmy Timm,
i hope you are having a beautiful day 😊
Go fuck yourself.
#jimmy mouthwashing#j*mmy#i hate it here#ask jimmy#send asks#send anons#anon ask#send me asks#burn#tumblr fyp#fypツ
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do you have any head cannons for avery and jameson during the holidays? (valentines, halloween, christmas, thanksgiving, etc)
Hi, sorry this took so long to come to but I just honestly didn't have a good answer for this one. First of all, if you want Averyjameson Christmas headcanons, you can check those out in my December 2023/January 2024 archive. It's all set at the True North ski lodge.
Valentine's Day:
Jameson likes to surprise her with a bouquet of flowers, each one a unique and uncommon species.
Avery likes to prepare an old meal that her mom made when they had a little more money to spare. Libby helps by making dessert.
They go to two date spots and it always depends; sometimes it's an escape room and a movie, other times it's a visit to the zoo and a fancy dinner.
But they always make sure to end with marathoning old shows in matching pjs and fuzzy socks. (And have a match to see who will fall asleep first, of course.)
July 4th:
They set up a burger making competition for everyone and you know how that goes. Competition ends in a food fight.
Avery sets up a charity fair event for the local kids hospital and Jameson takes to making sure he gives each kid a piggy back ride or push their wheelchair. (She melts because ugh, why is he good with kids? Husband material. Future hubby decided.)
She dares him to a "Who can ride the most rides by fireworks?" challenge and he wins but overdoes it a bit with some crazy stunts like flipping on the Ferris Wheel.
At the time of the fireworks, he sneaks away with her to the treehouse to watch them. The two kiss at the end.
Thanksgiving:
Avery somewhat gets down during this holiday and she gets depressed remembering the stuff she and her mom did for Thanksgiving.
Her dutiful boyfriend picks up on this and wants to cheer her up so he tries to make this more personal by having everyone pitch in for a homemade potluck.
Jameson decides he can handle a turkey but has more ambition with a turducken so he does without the advisory of Gray or Nash's supervision. Somehow, the kitchen doesn't explode and the turducken is intact.
In the midst of all this, he makes Avery a warm tea and brings a baggie with her faves. He hugs her and holds her until she falls asleep. She sleeps in his favorite sweater.
Come dinnertime, everybody is excited for the potluck and to surprise Avery. She is very happy to see everything that everyone brought and thanks everyone for coming.
Once dinner is done, having been told Jameson organized all this, he gets a little bashful and she gives him a gift.
They spend the night cuddling around the hearth and talking late before they fall asleep. A blanket is covering them the next morning.
#avery kylie grambs#avery grambs#jameson winchester hawthorne#jameson hawthorne#averyjameson#hawthorne shenanigans#hawthorne headcanons#tig headcanons#tig inbox#tig asks and requests#the inheritance games#tig#tig headquarters#TIG HQ
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Kismet Characters & Family Trees Part Fourteen:
Harry Potter (31 July 1980) GRYFFINDOR m. Ginevra Weasley (11 August 1981) GRYFFINDOR (2000):
1. James “Jamie” Sirius Potter GRYFFINDOR (5 April 2004) m. Hadley Grace Pritchard (2005) RAVENCLAW (2029): a) Rhysand James Potter (28 May 2032) GRYFFINDOR b) Emerson Fleamont Potter (11 March 2035) GRYFFINDOR c) Flynn Harry Potter (2 July 2037) GRYFFINDOR d) Grace Ginevra Potter (18 December 2040) GRYFFINDOR
2. Albus “Alby” Fleamont Potter (1 June 2006) SLYTHERIN m. Scorpius Malfoy (6 January 2006) SLYTHERIN (2031): a) Lyra Astoria Malfoy (1 June 2037) RAVENCLAW b) Celeste Ginevra Malfoy (5 March 2039) RAVENCLAW c) Archer Kai Malfoy (6 July 2044) SLYTHERIN
3) Lily Luna Potter (3 November 2007) GRYFFINDOR m. Oakley Wood (8 January 2007) GRYFFINDOR (2028): a) Nash Oliver Wood (31 July 2030) GRYFFINDOR m. Nixie Sparks (2032) RAVENCLAW (2058): aa) Sirius Harry Wood (25 December 2061) GRYFFINDOR bb) Remus Oakley Wood (25 December 2061) GRYFFINDOR b) Noah Harry Wood (31 July 2030) GRYFFINDOR c) Magnolia “Lia” Katherine Wood (2 May 2033) RAVENCLAW d) Zinnia “Zin” Ginevra Wood (11 August 2035) HUFFLEPUFF e) Zahira “Zee” Sorcha Wood (11 August 2035) HUFFLEPUFF
4) Cedrella “Ella” Theodora Potter (21 October 2010) SLYTHERIN m. Spencer Kane-Nott (3 July 2010) SLYTHERIN (2036): a) Logan Theodore Kane-Nott (23 March 2040) GRYFFINDOR b) Zeke Harry Kane-Nott (21 January 2042) SLYTHERIN c) Nolan Everett Kane-Nott (11 November 2044) RAVENCLAW d) Westley Sebastian Kane-Nott (9 December 2046) GRYFFINDOR
5) Everett Arthur Potter (21 October 2010) RAVENCLAW m. Xara Scamander (13 September 2016) RAVENCLAW (2039): a) Hazel Ella Potter (2 September 2040) HUFFLEPUFF b) Galina Xara Potter (28 April 2042) RAVENCLAW c) Landon Everett Potter (19 June 2044) GRYFFINDOR d) Waverly Luna Potter (7 February 2046) RAVENCLAW
6) Genevieve “Evie” Zahira Potter (9 May 2012) HUFFLEPUFF m. Christian Lyon (2008) RAVENCLAW (2033): a) Leif Christian Lyon (1 October 2035) GRYFFINDOR b) Autumn Ella Lyon (21 September 2038) HUFFLEPUFF c) Winter Willow Lyon (21 December 2041) RAVENCLAW d) Summer Lily Lyon (21 June 2043) GRYFFINDOR e) Spring Rose Lyon (21 March 2047) HUFFLEPUFF
7) Henry Remus Potter (31 July 2020) GRYFFINDOR m. Daniella Zabini (7 July 2018) RAVENCLAW (2049): a) Cameron Blaise Potter (1 January 2052) GRYFFINDOR b) Aidan Hunter Potter (23 July 2055) GRYFFINDOR c) Jameson Henry Potter (14 March 2058) GRYFFINDOR d) Emilia Ginevra Potter (17 August 2060) RAVENCLAW
8) Hunter Colten Potter (31 July 2020) GRYFFINDOR m. Sloane Hart (2023) GRYFFINDOR (2046): a) Simon Hunter Potter (14 February 2049) RAVENCLAW b) Shay Cedrella Potter (14 February 2049) HUFFLEPUFF c) Colin Fleamont Potter (7 March 2053) GRYFFINDOR d) Beckett James Potter (19 June 2055) HUFFLEPUFF e) Parker Harry Potter (24 September 2059) SLYTHERIN f) Noelle Ginevra Potter (25 December 2061) GRYFFINDOR
Thanks to @ellieoryan7447 for taking the time and effort to make these!
#harry potter fanfiction#breanie#the world of asc#the kismet trilogy#the kismet trilogy by breanie#characters and family trees
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Day 30 - Prompt: After @wolfstarmicrofic
January Daily Series - 549 words
<<<Previous Part OR Start Here
An awkward morning after was rarely an issue for Sirius, mostly because he never stayed overnight. He knew that he was a nightmare in the mornings, especially with a hangover. James generally avoided him until after he’d downed a massive cup of coffee and a pastry.
Today was different. Instead of waking up to a slobbery kiss from Padfoot or the sounds of James’s failed attempts to do literally anything quietly, he was met with a soft snore against his collarbone and a halo of curls warmed by a stray sun beam peeking between the blinds of Remus’s window. It was the perfect way to wake up, in his opinion. He certainly didn’t mind being Remus’s pillow if it meant he had unfettered access to these lovely curls.
Sirius was careful not to disturb him as he gently stroked through the golden-tipped ends, looping them around his fingers. Internally, he promised the strands that he would clean up the mess Remus made of them. They deserved better than an amateurish hack-job.
Not that he could truly chastise Remus for the state they were in, even if it was his fault. Everyone had their priorities, and if it just so happened that salvaging Remus’s curls had become one of his, then so be it. He was overdue for a new hyperfixation anyway, and he doubted Remus would mind.
A buzzing near his head drew his attention to the nightstand. One of their phones was going off, but he couldn’t tell which one. He reached out for the one in a gold case and eyed the screen. It was still early and James was checking in. He’d probably just started his morning run.
Jameson: morning ☀️
Jameson: all good?
Siriusly: Better than.
Jameson: Lucky you. 😉
Siriusly: Don’t pretend you didn’t take advantage of my absence.
Jameson: A gentleman would never kiss and tell. 🤐
Siriusly: Good answer. Keep it that way.
Jameson: 🫡
He set the phone back on the table and ignored the nagging feeling in his gut. James assumed that he’d gone ahead and shagged Remus despite his insistence that he was going to go slow this time. The fact that he was sorely tempted last night was hardly the point. His best friend should have more faith in his resolve.
As a matter of fact, Sirius thought he deserved an award for his performance. Playing coy was not his forte. Especially after Remus offered to “shag him senseless.” He’d wanted nothing more than to climb into Remus’s lap and ride him.
That wasn’t the point of all this though. He’d wanted to see for himself what Remus would do if he said “no.” There were a fair few blokes who would have kicked him out, or tried to change his mind, but not Remus. Instead, he was so absurdly kind about the whole thing that it had taken every ounce of self-control Sirius had not to pounce on him right then.
Remus mumbled in his sleep and hugged Sirius’s waist a bit tighter. He looked so sweet draped over him like this. A delightfully warm blanket of Remus was doing wonders for his attitude this morning.
Sirius closed his eyes and smiled to himself. He could get used to this.
Next Part>>>
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Really Mr. Stark?!
*January turns on the Quinjet's computer and places their hand on the handprint scanner*
Quinjet Computer: Voice activation required.
January: Jan.
Quinjet Computer: Access denied.
January: January.
Quinjet Computer: Access denied.
January: January Jameson.
Quinjet Computer: Access denied.
January: January Joy Jameson.
Quinjet Computer: Access denied.
January: ArchnaFeline.
Quinjet Computer: Access denied.
January: Ugh. Really Mr. Stark? "Spider-Man’s Copycat".
Quinjet Computer: Welcome, Spider-Man’s Copycat.
@thewhitespiderwitch @whosafraidoflittleoldme17 idk who else to tag again-
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Spider-Man Newspaper Strip (January 9th, 1977)
70s Jameson was on a whole other level.
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Near Miss | Sebastian Sallow x OC #37
Summary: Slytherin wins a Quidditch match and celebrates at the Three Broomsticks. Sebastian leaves early to see Evangeline; drunken antics ensue.
Words: ~6,400
Tags: Almost Confessions, Idiots in Love, Fluff, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Mutual Pining, Friends To Lovers, Slow Burn, Longing, Unspoken Feelings, Romance, Soft Moments, Sharing a Bed
Timeline: Mid January
Read more stories about Sebastian and Evangeline
Read on AO3
The Three Broomsticks was alive with the raucous energy of victory. The Slytherin Quidditch team had trounced Ravenclaw in a match that was as brutal as it was brilliant, and the team was reveling in their success. Tankards of clinked loudly, voices mingled in a cacophony of laughter and exaggerated retellings of the game, and someone—probably Jameson—was off-key in a bawdy version of the Slytherin house song.
Sebastian leaned back in his chair, his fifth old-fashioned in hand, grinning as Neva recounted her winning catch with the kind of dramatic flair only she could muster.
“And there it was,” she declared, lifting her hands as if holding an invisible Snitch. “The Ravenclaw Seeker didn’t even see it coming. Too busy gawking at Darian’s Bludger aimed for their head.”
“Distraction’s half the game,” Darian said with a cocky smirk, raising his tankard to her.
“To Neva!” Nicholas, their Keeper, boomed, standing and nearly knocking over his chair. “Fastest Seeker Slytherin’s seen in a decade!”
“To Neva!” the crowd chorused, their cheers echoing through the tavern.
Sebastian joined in, raising his glass in a toast before taking a deep swig. The warmth of the drink mixed with the buzz already humming in his veins. It was a good night. A great night, even. And yet, something was missing. No matter how good the moment, how loud the celebrations, there was a quiet space inside him that couldn’t quite be filled.
Imelda leaned over, elbowing him hard enough to make him jolt. “You’re quiet, Sallow,” she said, her dark eyes narrowing suspiciously.
“Just pacing myself,” he lied easily, forcing a grin. “Someone’s got to keep you lot out of trouble.”
“Pacing yourself,” Jameson snorted from across the table. “You’re five drinks in. If anyone’s getting dragged out of here, it’s you.”
“Not likely,” Sebastian shot back, but his retort lacked bite. He took another sip of his glass, his gaze drifting lazily over the crowded room.
The Three Broomsticks was packed with students from all houses, though Slytherin’s victory made their green-and-silver scarves the most visible. Hufflepuffs huddled in a corner, chatting amicably; Gryffindors laughed boisterously near the bar. Ravenclaws were noticeably fewer in number—licking their wounds, no doubt.
Ominis was there somewhere, though Sebastian hadn’t seen him for at least twenty minutes. Likely, he’d found a quiet corner away from the chaos, tolerating the noise with his usual resigned air. Ominis was never one to miss out on Slytherin victories—though his patience for the accompanying revelry was usually limited.
Garreth Weasley, on the other hand, was front and center, thriving amidst the boisterous energy. He hadn't even wanted Slytherin to win the game, but it was hard to keep him away from a party, especially one at the Three Broomsticks. He was currently standing on a chair near the bar, bickering with Jameson about the Slytherin house song.
“It’s not nearly as catchy as Gryffindor’s,” Garreth declared loudly, gesturing dramatically with his tankard. “No offense, but you lot could use a chorus people actually want to sing.”
Jameson, who was already a tankard deep in his argument, crossed his arms and glared up at him. “We don’t need a catchy chorus. Ours is about winning, Weasley. Not fluff and nonsense.”
Garreth threw his head back with a laugh, almost spilling his drink. “Winning? Is that what you call that ragged chant you all mumble like you’re at a funeral?”
The surrounding Slytherins roared in mock offense, while Garreth grinned like he was enjoying every second of their ire. Sebastian couldn’t help but smirk at the scene, shaking his head as Jameson clambered onto a chair to meet Garreth at eye level, red-faced and shouting about house pride.
Across the room, Natsai stood near the bar, her arms crossed and an amused smile tugging at her lips as she watched the chaos unfold. She caught Sebastian’s eye and gave him a small nod of acknowledgment. She wasn’t one to frequent celebrations like this, but even she couldn’t resist the draw of a post-match party.
And yet, despite the sea of familiar faces, there was one conspicuously missing.
Evangeline.
Sebastian’s gaze lingered on the crowd as if searching for her, though he already knew she wasn’t there. She’d told him earlier she wouldn’t be coming. Something about catching up on homework, but he knew it was more about needing space. She never quite felt at ease in settings like this—too crowded.
He couldn’t blame her. But Merlin’s beard, he missed her.
Sebastian let out a slow exhale and raised his glass to his lips, as though the drink in his hand could fill the space Evangeline’s absence left behind. The warmth of the liquor spread through his chest, but it didn’t touch the ache that had settled there. He forced himself to focus on the celebration, on the rowdy laughter and the tang of spilled cider in the air, but his thoughts kept drifting back to her.
She’d probably be curled up in the Gryffindor common room by now, her nose buried in some book she’d insisted on borrowing from the library. Or maybe she’d already gone to bed, exhausted from another day of balancing schoolwork, Quidditch, and everything else she juggled.
“Another round, Sallow?” Neva called from across the table, shaking her empty tankard at him.
Sebastian glanced at his own drink—or what was left of it—and nodded. “Yeah, why not?”
Time blurred after that. Another drink appeared in front of him, then another. He laughed at Nicholas’s increasingly ridiculous stories, rolled his eyes at Darian’s attempts to charm Natsai, and even joined in the rowdy singing when Imelda dragged him into it.
But no matter how many times his glass was refilled, no matter how many jokes and toasts he shared, the ache remained. He wasn’t sure when Poppy Sweeting had slipped into the crowd, but she gave him a pointed look as she replaced his drink with a fresh one, teasing him about “getting ahold of himself" before disappearing again.
It wasn’t until his next sip that Sebastian realized she’d swapped his whiskey for water. He scowled, but the drink’s coolness was a sobering reminder of how far he’d let himself go tonight. The buzz in his head had turned into a fog, the world around him slightly unsteady.
At some point, the loud singing turned to background noise. The cheerful chaos became a blur of voices, and the once lively fire in his chest dimmed to a slow, persistent burn. He caught glimpses of his friends—their faces flushed with joy and drink—but they felt distant, their laughter too far away to reach him.
His thoughts drifted back to Evangeline again, as they always did. The way her brow furrowed when she was concentrating. The way her laughter always seemed to catch him off guard, light and musical in a way that made everything else fade.
And the way she looked at him sometimes—soft and knowing, like she could see right through him.
It hit him then, with the clarity only found in drunken realizations: he couldn’t do this without her. Whatever this was—celebrating, winning, living—it didn’t feel right unless she was there.
Sebastian pushed himself unsteadily to his feet, bracing a hand on the table as the room swayed slightly.
“Oi, Sallow!” Jameson called, raising a brow. “Where’re you off to?”
“Forgot something,” Sebastian mumbled, waving him off as he stumbled toward the door. The cool night air hit him like a splash of cold water as he stepped outside, and he inhaled deeply, trying to clear his head.
But his mind was already made up.
He needed to see her.
Sebastian shoved his hands into his pockets and started the trek back to the castle. The cobblestone streets of Hogsmeade were quieter now, the celebratory buzz contained within the walls of the Three Broomsticks. Lanterns swayed gently in the breeze, their light casting flickering shadows on the path ahead. The cold air bit at his flushed skin, but it only sharpened his determination.
The trek back to Hogwarts passed in a blur. His legs carried him on autopilot, though the alcohol buzz made the journey slower than usual. He reached the castle, weaving slightly as he crossed the courtyard.
By the time he reached the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, he was already rehearsing what he might say. Not that he had a plan, really. The idea of seeing her was more a feeling than a thought—a pull he couldn’t resist.
The Fat Lady raised an eyebrow as he stumbled to a stop in front of her. “You’re a long way from your dormitory, young man,” she said, her tone skeptical. “And you’re not exactly looking… balanced.”
“Just… need to see someone,” Sebastian slurred slightly, leaning against the wall for support. “Could you, uh, open up?”
The Fat Lady was not amused.
“You’re not even in Gryffindor!” she huffed, glaring down at Sebastian as he pounded on the portrait. "And do you know what time it is? Some of us have standards!”
“Come on,” Sebastian coaxed, his grin boyish but desperate. “It’s important. Life or death.”
“Hardly,” she muttered, folding her arms. “Off with you, now.”
Before Sebastian could argue further, the portrait swung open on its own, revealing one of the Gryffindor prefects, though Sebastian couldn't for the life of him think of his name.
“You lost, Sallow?” He looked down at him with a mix of amusement and annoyance.
“No,” Sebastian replied firmly, straightening himself as best he could. “I’m here to see Evangeline.”
The boy frowned. “At this hour? She’s probably—”
“Please,” Sebastian interrupted, the word tumbling out more urgently than he intended. “Just… can you tell her I’m here?”
The Gryffindor hesitated, but something in Sebastian’s expression must have struck a chord. With a sigh, he nodded. “Wait here.”
The door swung shut again, leaving Sebastian alone with his thoughts and the Fat Lady, who eyed him disapprovingly.
“I’m watching you,” she said primly.
He didn’t have time to retort before the portrait opened again, revealing a very tired-looking Evangeline in her oversized cardigan and Gryffindor pajama bottoms. Her hair was loose, spilling over her shoulders in waves, and she blinked at him in sleepy confusion.
“Sebastian?” she asked, her brows furrowed in confusion. “What are you doing here? It’s late.”
He leaned casually against the wall, his grin a little too easy, a little too loose. “Miss me?”
Evangeline sighed as she stepped into the corridor, letting the portrait close behind her. “I thought you’d be out celebrating all night. What’s going on?”
“Celebrating’s boring without you,” he said simply, the words tumbling out before he could think better of them.
Her eyes softened, though she tried to hide it behind a raised eyebrow. “You do realize that’s possibly the cheesiest thing you’ve ever said to me?”
“But it’s still true,” he shot back, his grin widening. “Now, are you going to come with me?"
"Come with you where?" She folded her arms across her chest, tilting her head at him in mild exasperation. “Sebastian, it’s late, and I was about to go to bed. Wherever you think you’re dragging me, it can wait.”
“Absolutely not,” he said with indignation, taking a step closer to her. His voice was light, teasing, but there was an edge of sincerity in his gaze that gave her pause. “I left the party early, Evie. For you. The least you can do is humor me.”
She let out a small laugh, though her arms stayed firmly crossed. “You’re drunk.”
“Yes,” he admitted with a shrug, his grin unrepentant. “But that doesn’t make me wrong.”
Evangeline sighed. “Alright, fine. What is it you want?”
“First,” he said, holding up a finger, “I need to grab my pajamas. I can’t exactly sleep in this.” He gestured vaguely at his rumpled sweater and Quidditch trousers.
“And second?” she asked warily.
He leaned in, his voice dropping just enough to make her pulse quicken. “You’ll see.”
Evangeline narrowed her eyes at him, trying and failing to suppress the faint smile tugging at her lips. "Merlin's beard, fine. If only to make sure you don't pass out in the corridor."
“Excellent,” he said cheerfully, taking her hand without waiting for her to protest. “Come on, off to the dungeons we go.”
“Sebastian—” she began, but he was already tugging her along, his steps a little unsteady but determined.
The corridors of Hogwarts were quiet at this hour, the usual hum of student activity replaced by the soft flicker of torchlight against the ancient stone walls. Evangeline allowed herself to be dragged along, her hand warm in Sebastian’s firm grip. His steps were uneven, his balance betrayed by the drinks he’d clearly had far too many of, but he seemed undeterred, his pace almost gleeful.
“Do you have to stomp everywhere?” she asked, trying to keep her voice stern, though the corner of her mouth twitched with amusement. “You’ll wake the entire castle and we’ll get caught.”
“Stomping?” he repeated indignantly, glancing back at her with mock offense. “I am striding, Evie. Striding with purpose.”
As they descended Gryffindor Tower, his antics continued. He bowed as they passed an empty suit of armor, then pointed out a crack in the wall that, according to him, “looked suspiciously like the headmaster’s profile.”
By the time they reached the main floor, Evangeline was laughing despite herself. "How much did you have to drink tonight, Sebastian?"
“Not enough,” he quipped, his grin broad and boyish as he dramatically swayed around a corner, narrowly missing the edge of a tapestry.
Evangeline shook her head, tightening her grip on his hand to steady him. "I beg to differ. You're walking like a newborn Mooncalf. You’re going to wake Mr. Moon at this rate.”
"Moon?" Sebastian scoffed, waving her concern away. "He's probably asleep, dreaming about confiscating contraband. Besides, I’m stealth incarnate.”
As if to prove his point, he attempted to tiptoe dramatically, his steps exaggeratedly light and utterly uncoordinated. The result was a clumsy shuffle that sent a small stack of forgotten library books tumbling off a bench.
“Very stealthy,” Evangeline deadpanned, stooping to gather the books. She shot him a pointed look. “You’re lucky Peeves isn’t around.”
“Peeves loves me,” Sebastian said confidently, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms in what he likely thought was a suave pose.
“I doubt that,” she deadpanned, shaking her head as she returned the books to their place. “And if he catches you like this, he’ll never let you live it down.”
Sebastian grinned, unfazed. “Good thing I’ve got you to keep me in line, then.”
“Someone has to,” she muttered.
As they descended toward the dungeons, the air grew cooler, the torches casting long, flickering shadows. Sebastian’s grip on her hand tightened, not out of necessity but comfort. Evangeline noticed and didn’t pull away.
“So,” he said after a beat, his voice slightly more serious, “are you mad I pulled you out of bed?”
“I wasn’t in bed yet,” she replied, glancing at him. “I was about to, though.”
“Then you’re welcome,” he smirked, tossing her a wink that would have been smoother if he hadn’t nearly tripped over a loose stone in the floor.
Evangeline caught his arm, steadying him before he could fall. “For Merlin’s sake, Sebastian,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re going to break your neck. Come on. The sooner we get to the dungeons, the sooner you can stop trying to outpace your own balance.”
Sebastian let out a dramatic sigh but followed her lead, the playful edge in his demeanor giving way to a quieter contentment. The Slytherin common room loomed closer with each step, the dungeon's familiar chill wrapping around them like an old cloak.
“You know,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now, “I really did leave the party for you.”
She glanced at him, her brows knitting together in curiosity. “Why?”
“Because,” he said simply, his gaze focused ahead. “It wasn’t the same without you.”
Evangeline’s heart gave a small, traitorous flutter, but she masked it with a teasing smile. “That’s the alcohol talking.”
“Maybe is loosens my lips,” he admitted, his lips quirking into a crooked grin. “But that doesn’t make it less true.”
They reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room, and Sebastian fumbled for the password, his memory momentarily failing him. Evangeline waited patiently, her arms crossed, until he finally blurted out the right phrase.
The door swung open, and Sebastian gestured grandly. “After you.”
Evangeline scoffed, crossing her arms more firmly as she raised an eyebrow. “You do realize I’m not actually allowed in there, right? Something about Gryffindors tarnishing the sacred sanctity of Slytherin’s cold, dark lair?”
Sebastian grinned, leaning against the doorway with an exaggerated air of confidence. “Sacred sanctity, you say? Nonsense. Consider yourself an honorary Slytherin for the evening.”
She hesitated, glancing toward the dimly lit common room beyond him. “And what happens if I get caught? I’d rather not end up scrubbing cauldrons for a week.”
Sebastian stepped closer, his grin softening into something that bordered on earnest. “You won’t. I’d never let that happen.”
With an exaggerated sigh, she stepped past him into the common room, the warmth of the fireplace immediately enveloping her. The room was as she’d imagined—grand, moody, and distinctly Slytherin. Green and silver accents adorned the dark leather furniture, and the high ceilings cast long shadows that danced with the flickering firelight.
Sebastian wobbled slightly as he followed her in, and she shot him a pointed look. “You’re going to trip over your own feet if you keep that up.”
“Nonsense,” he said breezily, though he did grab the edge of a nearby couch for balance. “I’m perfectly steady.”
“Sure you are,” she muttered, her eyes scanning the room. “Now go get those pajamas you were so desperate for so I can go back to bed.”
Sebastian straightened, a lopsided grin spreading across his face as he wagged a finger at her. “Ah, ah, ah. You can’t go back yet, Evie.”
Evangeline raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m pretty sure I can. You said you needed pajamas, and now you’re here. Mission accomplished.”
Sebastian shook his head, stepping toward her with a dramatic flair, as if her logic had wounded him deeply. “Getting my pajamas was only the first part of the plan. You agreed to humor me, remember? And the second part hasn’t even started yet.”
She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “What have I gotten myself into?”
Sebastian leaned against the arm of a nearby couch, his grin wide and unrepentant. “You agreed to follow me, and now you’re in it for the long haul.”
“Sebastian,” she said firmly, giving him her best no-nonsense look, “it’s late, and you’re clearly very drunk. Whatever grand scheme you’re cooking up can wait until morning.”
“Come on, Evie. You’ll like this, I promise.” he said, his tone light but with a trace of something softer underneath.
She studied him for a moment, noting the stubborn set of his jaw and the slight sway in his stance that betrayed just how much he’d had to drink.
Evangeline let out a resigned sigh, shaking her head. “Fine. But if this involves sneaking out of the castle or into the Restricted Section, you’re on your own.”
“Not this time,” he said, his grin softening into something almost boyish. “Now wait right here while I grab my things. Don’t move.”
She watched him disappear down one of the narrow hallways, the sound of his unsteady footsteps echoing softly as he went. With a shake of her head, Evangeline moved toward the fireplace, the warmth of the flames drawing her in. She couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of the situation.
“Honorary Slytherin,” she muttered to herself, rolling her eyes.
It wasn’t long before Sebastian reappeared, a crumpled bundle of clothes and a toothbrush clutched in one hand. He looked far too pleased with himself as he sauntered back into the room, holding the bundle aloft like a trophy.
“Ready?” he asked, his grin wide enough to rival the Cheshire Cat’s.
“Ready for what?” she asked, her arms crossed once more.
He stopped in front of her, swaying slightly but managing to hold her gaze. “The rest of the night, of course. Back to the Undercroft.”
Evangeline frowned. “Sebastian, I’m not walking across the entire castle again at this hour.”
“Yes, you are,” he said simply, his grin turning into a smirk. “Because if you don’t, you’ll miss the best part of the night.”
She hesitated, eyeing him warily. “And what exactly is the best part?”
Sebastian’s expression softened, his voice dropping just enough to make her pulse quicken. “Spending it with me.”
Evangeline groaned. "Are you kidding?"
"Nope," he shot back, his smirk triumphant. “Now come on, Sterling. Let’s go."
With a long-suffering sigh, she gestured toward the door. “Lead the way. But if you get us caught, you’re explaining it to Professor Weasley”
Sebastian laughed, the sound warm and unguarded as he took her hand once more. “Deal.”
They slipped out of the Slytherin common room together, the faint echo of their footsteps disappearing into the quiet of the dungeons.
Sebastian’s antics kept Evangeline both entertained and exasperated on the walk. He attempted to recount the highlights of the Quidditch match, though his details became increasingly muddled as he went on.
“And then Jameson—he’s the one who hit the Bludger, mind you—managed to knock—wait, no, it was Darian—anyway, the Ravenclaw Seeker didn’t stand a chance,” he rambled, his words slurring slightly.
“Yes, I did attend the match, you know,” Evangeline said dryly.
By the time they reached the Undercroft, Sebastian was leaning heavily against Evangeline, though whether it was from the alcohol or sheer theatrics, she couldn’t tell. With a bit of effort, she pushed open the familiar door, and they stepped inside, the soft glow of the enchanted fire casting warm light over the room.
Sebastian flopped onto the couch with a groan, tossing his pajamas onto the nearby table. “Home sweet home.”
"Yeah, yeah," Evangeline plopped down on the bed with a soft sigh, already tugging the blankets over her legs. She tilted her head to glance at Sebastian, who was still sprawled on the couch like he had no intention of moving.
“Are you planning to sleep in the bed, or are you just going to pass out right there in your Quidditch gear?” she teased, smirking at his sluggish response.
Sebastian groaned and pushed himself upright, stumbling slightly as he grabbed his pajamas from the table. “Patience, Evie. Greatness takes time.”
“Greatness?” She snorted, settling back against the pillows. “All I’m seeing is someone teetering on the edge of regrettable life choices.”
Sebastian stuck his tongue out at her like a petulant child before fumbling with the button on his trousers. Evangeline’s casual smirk evaporated as she realized what he was about to do.
“Sebastian Sallow!” she shrieked, sitting bolt upright and pointing to the changing screen at the far side of the Undercroft. “Behind the wall. Now.”
He paused mid-button, blinking at her with mock innocence. “What? It’s not—”
“Now!” she warned, her cheeks turning an alarming shade of pink.
Grumbling dramatically, Sebastian grabbed his pajamas and stumbled toward the changing wall. “Such prudishness,” he muttered loudly, though his words were more slurred than scathing. “It’s not like I’m completely—wait a minute.”
“What now?” Evangeline called, her exasperation bleeding through her tone.
Sebastian leaned around the edge of the wall, holding up the pajama bottoms with a sheepish grin. “Forgot the shirt.”
Evangeline groaned and stared up at the stone ceiling of the Undercroft. This was a new level of mortification. Sharing a bed with him had already become a delicate dance of pretending she didn’t notice things: the way his voice softened when they talked late into the night, the way his laugh came so easily when they were alone, and, most pressingly, the way his proximity made her heart race.
Now, she had to mentally prepare herself for a new challenge: Sebastian Sallow, shirtless and drunk, lying beside her.
Her mind betrayed her, flickering back to the only other time she’d seen him shirtless—when Lysander had cursed him on the Quidditch pitch last year. She’d found him in the aftermath, bleeding and refusing to go to the hospital wing. Evangeline had patched him up herself, and she could still remember the way his muscles tensed under her hands as she cleaned the wound, how he’d winced and tried to play it off like it didn’t hurt. He’d been so uncharacteristically shy then, keeping his eyes averted while she worked, mumbling about how he was fine and didn’t need the fuss.
But now? Now there was nothing dire about the situation—just the knowledge that Sebastian was currently stripping behind the wall and brushing his teeth, and that, in a matter of moments, he’d be crawling into bed beside her.
Evangeline squeezed her eyes shut, her heart hammering in her chest. For all his cockiness, Sebastian rarely flaunted himself in that way. In fact, it had always been surprising to Evangeline just how oddly modest he was around her.
But now? Now, apparently, drunken Sebastian had no qualms about shucking his shirt with her in the room. Fantastic.
The sound of fabric hitting the floor jolted her from her thoughts, and she squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to stay calm. This is fine, she told herself. You’re friends. He’s drunk. This doesn’t mean anything.
But her resolve cracked the moment he sauntered out from behind the wall.
His hair was a mess, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol, and his grin was utterly infuriating.
“Well?” he asked, holding his arms out as if inviting her to critique his attire. “How do I look?”
Evangeline peeked through her fingers, the gesture doing little to block the sight of him. Her breath caught in her throat, betraying her. He was, indeed, shirtless, and it was a view she wasn’t prepared for.
He was taller than she usually noticed, broad-shouldered and powerfully built, his torso tapering to a narrow waist. The firelight played over his tanned skin, its warm glow casting shadows over the musculature of his chest and abdomen, though there was a softness to him that she could only assume was the result of his relentless sweet tooth.
Her eyes betrayed her further, flicking down to the freckles—oh, Merlin, the freckles—that dotted his upper torso like constellations against the tanned canvas of his skin. They were most concentrated on his shoulders and collarbones, but a few daring ones scattered lower. She wondered, absently, how many of them dotted his back, his arms, the skin she couldn’t yet see.
Her gaze—unbidden and entirely against her better judgment—drifted lower, to where his pajama bottoms hung daringly low on his hips, exposing the deep V of his lower abdomen and where a faint trail of dark hair began just below his navel, disappearing teasingly beneath the waistband of his pajamas.
It was maddening, this casual display of perfection, and Evangeline willed herself to stop looking, to stop thinking about how unfair it all was.
Sebastian tilted his head, his grin widening. “You’re staring,” he teased, his voice low and drawling in a way that set her nerves on edge.
She threw her pillow at him with a startled squeak. “I am not!
He caught the pillow with ease, his reflexes frustratingly intact despite his obvious inebriation. “Relax,” he said, holding the pillow to his chest as if that somehow counted as covering up. “It’s just skin. Everyone has it.”
“Yes, well, I’d prefer not to see yours,” she muttered, trying to sound composed but failing miserably. Her voice wavered, betraying her, and Sebastian caught it immediately.
He smirked, the kind of smirk that usually preceded him doing something reckless. “Oh, come on, Evie. It’s not like you’ve never seen me shirtless before.” He stepped closer to the bed, tossing the pillow back onto it as he loomed over her. “Remember last year? Quidditch pitch? Blood everywhere? You were very hands-on then.”
Evangeline’s jaw dropped, her mortification reaching new heights. “That was completely different, and you know it!” she hissed, yanking the blankets up to her chin as if they could shield her from the sheer audacity of him. “You were injured. I was trying to keep you from bleeding out, you prat!”
Sebastian chuckled, plopping down on his side of the bed without an ounce of shame. “Still. Surely I don't look that different?"
Evangeline hesitated. The truth was, he did look different. Sebastian had always been attractive—infuriatingly so, with those warm brown eyes that could either smolder or sparkle depending on his mood, and that grin, the one that made her feel both exasperated and weak-kneed. But now? Now, it was almost too much.
Somewhere between last year and now, he had grown up. His shoulders were broader, his frame more defined, with a softness around his edges that only added to his maddening appeal. He was no longer just the boy who teased her mercilessly; he was a man, one who didn’t seem to realize, or perhaps care about, the effect he had on her.
She risked another glance at him, and her heart sank when she saw him watching her with that insufferable smirk still playing on his lips. He leaned back slightly, his weight on his palms as he tilted his head at her, clearly enjoying her flustered state.
“What?” he asked, his tone almost teasingly innocent. “Cat got your tongue?”
Evangeline scowled. "No."
“Then stop dodging the question,” he countered, leaning forward slightly, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Do I look different or not?”
She groaned, wishing she could sink into the mattress and disappear. “You look the same,” she lied.
Sebastian’s grin widened. “Hmm, I don’t think I believe you. You’re looking at me like I’ve got three heads.”
“You act like you do,” she shot back, trying to regain some control of the situation. “Now will you please go to sleep before I hex you?”
He laughed, stretching out with a contented sigh. “But Evie,” he pleaded, his voice softening just enough to send a shiver down her spine, "How will I sleep without hearing the answer?”
Evangeline froze, her heart lurching at his words. What was she supposed to say now? Should she tell the truth? That, yes, he looked different—that he looked better than ever, that something about him lately made her want to scream and blush all at once? That she could hardly be around him without feeling like her heart was trying to claw its way out of her chest?
No. Absolutely not.
She swallowed hard, forcing her voice to stay steady. “There’s nothing to answer,” she said, keeping her back turned to him. “You look the same as you always do—annoying.”
“Liar,” Sebastian drawled, his tone a mix of amusement and something else—something almost disappointed. "...Do I look worse or something? Is that why you won’t say?”
She turned her head slightly, her eyes darting toward him despite herself. He was lying back now, one arm tucked behind his head, the other resting loosely against his chest. His brow was furrowed just enough to betray his unease, though he tried to mask it with a nonchalant expression. It didn’t fool her.
“No,” she said quickly, her voice softer now, almost gentle. “Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.”
His gaze flicked to her, and for once, he didn’t look amused. “Then why won't you answer?” he asked, his tone quieter than before.
Evangeline sighed, sitting up slightly so she could look at him properly. “Fine,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “If you really want to know... you don’t look the same. You’ve... grown up. Over the summer. Even last term. You just look... older now. In… a good way.”
Sebastian tilted his head, studying her in the dim light of the Undercroft. His expression shifted, softening into a kind of quiet thoughtfulness that made her heart stutter. “So do you."
Evangeline blinked, caught off guard. “What?"
“You’ve grown up,” he said, his voice low, deliberate.
Evangeline let out a shaky breath, her fingers brushing against her wand. The tension in the room was too much, pressing against her chest like a weight she couldn’t escape. She needed to break it before she said or did something she’d regret.
With a flick of her wrist, the room dimmed until only the enchanted fire remained, its warm glow flickering across the stone walls of the Undercroft. Shadows danced around them, softening the edges of Sebastian’s features but doing little to lessen the intensity of his gaze.
“We should get some sleep,” she said quickly, avoiding his eyes as she leaned back against the pillows. “It’s late, and I’m—well, I’m exhausted.”
Sebastian didn’t respond immediately, and the silence stretched between them, making her pulse race. She kept her eyes firmly on the ceiling, refusing to glance his way. She couldn’t handle it—not the way he looked at her, not the quiet sincerity in his voice, and definitely not the fact that her heart was still pounding in her chest like it was trying to escape.
She heard the faint rustle of fabric as he shifted, the sound far too loud in the otherwise quiet room. “You’re trying to avoid me,” he said finally, his tone soft but tinged with amusement. “You think turning out the lights is going to help?”
Evangeline groaned, dragging the blanket up to cover her face. “I’m trying to sleep, Sebastian. For once in your life, take a hint.”
But, of course, he didn’t. She heard the faint creak of the mattress as he sat up, the warmth of his voice cutting through the darkness like a blade. “You’re terrible at lying, you know.”
“Goodnight, Sebastian,” she mumbled, her voice muffled by the blanket.
He laughed softly, the sound low and unguarded, and it sent an unwelcome shiver down her spine. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”
Her cheeks burned, and she peeked out from under the blanket just enough to glare at him. “Firstly, you don't think I'm cute, you're just saying that because you're drunk. Second, I am not flustered.”
Sebastian chuckled, leaning lazily against his pillow, his grin only widening as he caught her glare. “Firstly,” he said, mimicking her tone with exaggerated precision, “you have no idea what I think. Drunk or not. And secondly, Evie, you’re absolutely flustered.”
“I am not,” she insisted, though the heat in her cheeks betrayed her.
“Oh, come on,” he said, his voice dropping into that low, teasing drawl that made her insides twist. “You’re practically glowing over there. It’s adorable.”
“Adorable?” she scoffed, throwing the blanket off her head completely to fix him with a proper glare. “I am not adorable. I’m... formidable.”
Sebastian laughed again, a rich, genuine sound that made her want to simultaneously melt and hex him into next week. “Oh, you’re definitely formidable,” he said, raising his hands as if to placate her. “But you can be both, you know.”
She opened her mouth to argue, then promptly shut it again, unsure how to counter that. The audacity of him.
"Oh shut up, Sebastian."
Sebastian smirked, his grin widening at her flustered silence. “I’ll take that as a win," he said, settling back against his pillow with an air of triumph.
“It’s not a win,” she snapped, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “It’s me choosing not to dignify your nonsense with a response.”
“Sounds like a win to me,” he drawled, his voice tinged with laughter.
Evangeline groaned, grabbing the edge of her blanket and yanking it back over her head. “I regret every decision that led to me being stuck in a room with you.”
“No, you don’t,” he countered smoothly. “You love this.”
She didn’t reply, willing herself to ignore him, to not let his words worm their way into her chest and make her heart do that stupid fluttering thing again.
The room fell quiet after that, save for the soft crackle of the fire. For a moment, she thought he might have finally fallen asleep, but then his voice cut through the silence, softer this time, almost hesitant.
“Evie.”
“What now?” she muttered, her voice muffled by the blanket.
He hesitated, and she could hear the faint creak of the mattress as he shifted again. “You really don’t know, do you?”
She frowned, lowering the blanket just enough to glance at him. “Don’t know what?”
He met her gaze, his expression suddenly serious. There was something in the way he was looking at her, too, like he was seeing right through her defenses and into the thoughts she desperately tried to keep hidden.
“Sebastian?” she prompted again, her voice quieter this time, unsure if she really wanted an answer. “Don’t know what?”
Sebastian blinked, like he’d just realized how long he’d been studying her. He exhaled slowly, his expression shifting back into something more guarded, more familiar. “Ignore me,” he said, shaking his head as he sank back onto his pillow. “I’m drunk.”
She blinked at him, momentarily stunned. “No, you can’t just do that! What do you mean?” she demanded, her heart still pounding in her chest.
“Nothing,” he muttered, turning his head away from her and closing his eyes. “Forget I said anything. Just... let's go to sleep.”
But Evangeline couldn’t let it go that easily. She sat up slightly, her hands clutching the blanket tightly as she stared at him. “Sebastian.”
“Goodnight, Evie,” he sang, his face turned toward the firelight to hide the faint flush on his cheeks.
She opened her mouth to argue, to press him further, but something in his tone stopped her. It wasn’t deflection, not entirely. It was something softer, something almost vulnerable.
With a frustrated sigh, she sank back against her pillow, pulling the blanket up to her chin. “Fine,” she muttered, though the tension in her voice was clear. “But this conversation isn’t over.”
Sebastian didn’t respond, his breathing steady and slow, though she doubted he’d already fallen asleep. And as the room fell into silence once more, she couldn’t stop herself from replaying the look in his eyes, the way he’d hesitated, the way he’d said, Ignore me, I’m drunk.
But she couldn’t ignore him. Not when the memory of his gaze lingered, making her chest ache with questions she wasn’t sure she was ready to ask.
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STARTING WITH J
MASCULINE︰ jace. jack. jackie. jackson. jacob. jaden. jadyn. jaiden. jairo. jake. jalen. jamari. james. jameson. jamey. jamie. jamir. jamison. jared. jaren. jarod. jaron. jarred. jarvis. jase. jasiah. jason. jasper. javier. javyn. jax. jaxen. jaxon. jaxson. jaxton. jaxtyn. jaxxon. jay. jayce. jayceon. jaycob. jayden. jaylen. jayson. jaziel. jeb. jeff. jefferson. jeffery. jeffrey. jem. jemmy. jensen. jenson. jeorge. jepson. jerald. jeremiah. jeremy. jerold. jerry. jess. jesse. jessie. jesus. jett. jim. jimmy. jin. jo. joaquin. joe. joel. joey. john. johnathan. johnie. johnny. johnson. jojo. jon. jonah. jonas. jonathan. jonathon. jones. jordan. jordon. jorge. jose. joseph. josey. josh. joshua. josiah. joss. josue. jovi. joyce. juan. judah. jude. judson. julian. julias. julien. julio. julius. julyan. justice. justin.
FEMININE︰ jacey. jaci. jacinda. jacinth. jackalyn. jacki. jackie. jacklyn. jaclyn. jacqueline jacquelyn. jacquetta. jacqui. jada. jade. jaden. jadyn. jae. jaida. jaiden. jaime. jaimie. jaki. jakki. jamey. jami. jamie. jan. janae. jane. janeka. janel. janele. janella. janelle. janene. janessa. janet. janetta. janette. janey. janice. janie. janine. janis janna. jannah. jannette. jannine. january. jaqueline. jaquelyn. jaslene. jaslyn jasmin. jasmine. jasmyn. jaycee. jayda. jayde. jayden. jaye. jayla. jaylah. jaylee. jayleen. jaylen. jaylene. jaylin. jaylyn. jaylynn. jayma. jayme. jayna jayne. jaynie. jazlyn. jazmin. jazmine. jazmyn.��jean. jeana. jeane. jeanette jeanie. jeanine. jeanna. jeanne. jeannette. jeannie. jeannine. jemima. jemma jen. jena. jenae. jenelle. jenessa. jeni. jenifer. jenn. jenna. jenni. jennica jennie. jennifer. jenny. jeri. jerilyn. jerrie. jess. jessa. jessalyn. jessamine. jessamyn. jessi. jessica. jessie. jessika. jessy. jessye. jewel. jewell. jill. jillian. jillie. jilly. jimmie jinny. jo. joan. joandra. joanie. joann. joanna. joanne. jobeth. jocelin jocelyn. jodene. jodi. jodie. jody. joella. joelle. joetta. johna. johnie. johnna johnnie. joi. joisse. jojo. joleen. jolene. jolie. joline. jonelle. jonette. joni. jonie. jonquil. jools. jordan. jordana. jordin. jordyn. jorie. jorja. josceline. joselyn josepha. josephina. josephine. josie. joslyn. joss. josslyn. journee. journey. journi. joy. joyce. joye. jream. jude. judi. judie. judith. judy. jules julia. juliana. julianna. julianne. julie. juliet. july. june. juniper justice. justina. justine. justy.
NEUTRAL︰ jabre. jac. jace. jacey. jack. jackal. jackey. jackie. jacky. jada. jade. jaden. jae. jael. jaelin. jaelyn. jai. jailyn. jaime. jak. jalani. jalen. jam. jamie. jan. jaq. jas. jasper. java. jaw. jay. jaya. jaycee. jayden. jaylen. jaylin. jaylynn. jazz. jean. jeanne. jelani. jelly. jem. jenesis. jennings. jeriah. jericho. jersey. jesiah. jesse. jessie. jet. jewel. jewell. ji. jie. jigsaw. jinx. jireh. jo. joan. jodie. jody. joey. johnnie. join. jojo. jordan. jordi. jordy. jordyn. jorryn. journey. jovi. joy. jream. jru. jrue. ju. jubilee. jude. juke. jule. jules. july. jun. june. junior. juniper. juno. jupiter. justice. justus. jyler. jynx.
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Grayson Hawthorne's Daughter Head cannon
Her name would be Caroline Skyler Hawthorne.
She was born on January 1st
Her zodiac sign is Capricorn
She weighed 6 pounds and 5 ounces when she was born.
She had no hair except for a small strand of wheat colored hair.
She was very quiet as a baby. She only cried when she was very hungry or messed in her diaper.
She didn't giggle or laugh as a baby very often. But her father and Xander were the only ones who could get her to.
She had trouble sleeping at night so Grayson, after she had been feed by her mother, would take her for walks in the house. He would show her all the art pieces on the wall and she would coo and lay her head on his chest. She would finally fall asleep, and Grayson, not wanting his daughter to be alone, would bring her back to his room and lay her in between he and his wife.
She was a very well behaved child, hardly ever needing to be talked to.
She is a DADDY GIRL!!!!!!
She loves her mother, but she would rather be with her father.
If Grayson is away she has to call him everyday and night so she can talk to him.
She cries every night he is away and counts the days until he gets back.
She is the spitting image of her father. She has his same colored hair and eyes. Her mannerisms are also like her father.
She does have her mother's smile and gracious personality.
Despite her hard exterior like her father, she has a tender heart and loves to help other people in need.
She adores animals and has her own cat, dog, horse, and chickens!
She loves all her aunts and uncles but she is the closest to Avery and Nash.
She didn't get along with Jameson when she was younger, but now they are best buds.
She loves Xander teaching her science experiments.
Her and Libby have baking lessons every few weeks.
She enjoys showing her parents all that she has learned.
Nash's daughters and her, when they are older, love to go on shopping dates.
She is very good in chess. Grayson taught her when she was 4 years old.
She is an expert in marshal arts, swimming, sword fighting, and figure skating.
Even though she enjoys dressing up and shopping, she is no girly-girl.
When she got older she loves to mimic her father by wearing ladies two-piece suits.
Her and Grayson have time set aside just for them every week.
Her favorite color is Gray and red.
she prefers wearing black and red. And she has tons of clothes in those colors.
She went to a private school, but when she got older she transferred to country Day.
She lives in New York with her family, but was finally able to convince her father for her to go to Texas to be with her cousins.
Grayson hates her being so far away, but knows it's the best for his daughter.
Her favorite season is Fall, just like her dad.
She has watched every season of Law and Order. She also loves a good rom-com now and then.
Her favorite singers are Kelly Clarkson, Taylor Swift, and Allen Walker.
She knows how to play the piano, violin, and guitar.
She was very nervous for her first prom date. Her first date was Xander's son.
They are very close. He is able to make her laugh and takes her out of her comfort zone.
She loves to dance.
Her style tends toward dark acidemia. She sometimes wears bright colors and modern clothes, but not often.
She is 5ft 10 and weighs about 135 pounds.
She is very thin like her mother.
Her and Acacia get along very well. They love spending time with each other.
Gigi and her get into all sorts of mischief when Grayson is away!
Savannah shows her how to do her hair and makeup.
They go on shopping trips and try on hundreds of dress! Just for the fun of it.
Even when she gets married she is still very close with her parents.
Grayson will be the proudest grandfather ever!
She will always remember all the good times she had with her parents, even when they are gone
That's it for now!! Might do another one later.
Tagging @reminiscentreader @lovelylima
#the brothers hawthorne#the inheritance games#grayson hawthorne#savannah grayson#Grayson's daughter#head cannons#gigi grayson#jameson hawthorne#nash hawthorne#xander hawthorne#libby grambs#daughters
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Footnotes 1 - 100
[1] Audre Lorde, Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches (Berkeley: Crossing Press, 1984), 4.
[2] Raoul Vaneigem, The Revolution of Everyday Life, trans. Donald Nicholson-Smith (Seattle: Rebel Press, 2001), 26.
[3] Michel Foucault, “Preface,” in Anti-Oedipus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia, by Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1983), xi–xiv.
[4] The concept of the “public secret” originated with situationism, and we borrow it from the Institute of Precarious Consciousness, in their suggestion that anxiety is a public secret of contemporary capitalism. See Institute for Precarious Consciousness, “Anxiety, Affective Struggle, and Precarity Consciousness-Raising,” Interface 6/2 (2014), 271–300.
[5] Alfredo M. Bonanno, Armed Joy (London: Elephant Editions, 1998), https://theanarchistlibrary.org/library/alfredo-m-bonanno-armed-joy.
[6] See, for instance: John Holloway, Change the World Without Taking Power: The Meaning of Revolution Today, 2nd Revised Edition (London: Pluto Press, 2005), 19–42; The Invisible Committee, To Our Friends 216–219.
[7] The concept of sad militancy comes to us from Michel Foucault and Colectivo Situaciones. See Foucault, “Preface”; Colectivo Situaciones, “Something More on Research Militancy: Footnotes on Procedures and (In)Decisions,” in Constituent Imagination, ed. Erika Biddle and Stevphen Shukaitis (Oakland: AK Press, 2007), 73–93.
[8] Brian Massumi, “Translator’s Foreword: Pleasures of Philosophy,” in A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia, by Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1987), ix–xv.
[9] Zainab Amadahy, “Protest Culture: How’s It Working for Us?,” Rabble.ca, July 20, 2010, http://rabble.ca/news/2010/07/protest-culture-how%E2%80%99s-it-working-us.
[10] This phrase is often attributed to Frederic Jameson who wrote “Someone once said that it is easier to imagine the end of the world than to imagine the end of capitalism.” See Frederic Jameson, “Future City,” New Left Review 21 (2003), 77.
[11] Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari, Anti-Oedipus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1983), 38.
[12] Audre Lorde, Sister Outsider (Trumansburg: Crossing Press, 1984), 53.
[13] “The Wild Beyond: With and for the Undercommons,” in The Undercommons: Fugitive Planning & Black Study, by Fred Moten and Stefano Harney (Wivenhoe: Minor Compositions, 2013), 10. http://www.minorcompositions.info/wp-content/uploads/2013/04/undercommons-web.pdf.
[14] Gilles Deleuze and Claire Parnet, Dialogues II, (New York: Columbia University Press, 2007), 61.
[15] Dean Spade, “On Normal Life,” interview by Natalie Oswin, Society and Space (January 2014), http://societyandspace.org/2014/01/15/on-6/.
[16] “Joy—Definition of Joy in English,” Oxford English Dictionary (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016), https://en.oxforddictionaries.com/definition/joy.
[17] Rebecca Solnit, “We Could Be Heroes,” EMMA Talks, Vancouver, February 17, 2016. http://emmatalks.org/session/rebecca-solnit/.
[18] Sara Ahmed, The Promise of Happiness (Durham: Duke University Press, 2010), 192.
[19] Leanne Betasamosake Simpson, “Indict the System: Indigenous & Black Connected Resistance,” LeanneSimpson.ca, http://leannesimpson.ca/indict-the-system-indigenous-black-connected-resistance/ (accessed November 28, 2014).
[20] Our interpretation of Spinoza’s concept of joy comes from many sources, but one of the most helpful is Mary Zournazi’s interview with the affect theorist Brian Massumi, in which he distinguishes joy from happiness. See Mary Zournazi, “Navigating Movements: A Conversation with Brian Massumi,” in Hope: New Philosophies for Change, by Mary Zournazi (New York: Routledge, 2002), 241–242.
[21] Gustavo Esteva, interview by carla bergman and Nick Montgomery, email, April 26, 2014.
[22] Silvia Federici, interview by carla bergman and Nick Montgomery, telephone, January 18, 2016.
[23] Lorde, Sister Outsider, 57.
[24] adrienne maree brown, interview by Nick Montgomery and carla bergman, email, November 11, 2015.
[25] This reading of Deleuze is indebted to conversations with Kim Smith and the reading she has developed of Susan Ruddick. See Susan Ruddick, “The Politics of Affect: Spinoza in the Work of Negri and Deleuze,” Theory, Culture & Society 27/4 (2010), 21–45.
[26] Bædan, “The Anti-Social Turn,” Bædan 1: Journal of Queer Nihilism (August 2012), 186.
[27] This notion of wisdom is drawn from Claire Carlisle’s helpful explanation of Spinozan wisdom as something akin to “emotional intelligence.” See Claire Carlisle, “Spinoza, Part 7: On the Ethics of the Self,” The Guardian, March 21, 2011, https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/belief/2011/mar/21/spinoza-ethics-of-the-self.
[28] Marina Sitrin, interview by Nick Montgomery and carla bergman, email, February 4, 2016.
[29] “Militant,” Wikipedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Militant&oldid=754366474 (accessed December 12, 2016).
[30] Melanie Matining, interview by carla bergman and Nick Montgomery, in person, May 6, 2014.
[31] Jackie Wang, “Against Innocence: Race, Gender and the Politics of Safety,” LIES Journal 1 (2012), 13.
[32] Idem, 10.
[33] Glen Coulthard, interview by carla bergman and Nick Montgomery, in person, March 16, 2016.
[34] Ibid.
[35] Kiera L. Ladner and Leanne Simpson, eds., This Is an Honour Song: Twenty Years since the Blockades (Winnipeg: Arbeiter Ring, 2010), 1.
[36] Deborah B. Gould, Moving Politics: Emotion and ACT UP’s Fight against AIDS (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2009), 178.
[37] Sebastián Touza, interview by Nick Montgomery and carla bergman, email, February 2, 2016.
[38] Sebastián Touza, “Antipedagogies for Liberation Politics, Consensual Democracy and Post-Intellectual Interventions” (PhD dissertation, Simon Fraser University, 2008), 136–7. https://www.academia.edu/544417/Antipedagogies_for_liberation_politics_consensual_democracy_and_post-intellectual_interventions.
[39] For a fuller discussion of these dynamics, see Marina Sitrin, Everyday Revolutions: Horizontalism and Autonomy in Argentina (London: Zed Books, 2012).
[40] Margaret Killjoy, interview by carla bergman and Nick Montgomery, email, March 8, 2014.
[41] Anonymous, “Robot Seals as Counter-Insurgency: Friendship and Power from Aristotle to Tiqqun,” Human Strike, https://humanstrike.wordpress.com/2013/08/27/robot-seals-as-counter-insurgency-friendship-and-power-from-aristotle-to-tiqqun/ (accessed August 27, 2013).
[42] brown, interview by Nick Montgomery and carla bergman.
[43] The turn of phrase “making kin” comes to us from the feminist philosopher Donna Haraway. See Donna Haraway, “Anthropocene, Capitalocene, Plantationocene, Chthulucene: Making Kin,” Environmental Humanities 6/1 (2015), 161.
[44] Idem, 163.
[45] “Freedom—Definition of Freedom in English,” Oxford English Dictionary (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016). https://en.oxforddictionaries.com/definition/freedom.
[46] Douglas Harper, “Free (Adj.),” Online Etymology Dictionary, http://www.etymonline.com/index.php?term=free (accessed November 30, 2016).
[47] Ibid.
[48] Editors of the American Heritage Dictionaries, eds., Word Histories and Mysteries: From Abracadabra to Zeus (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 2004), 103.
[49] Invisible Committee, To Our Friends, trans. Robert Hurley (South Pasadena: Semiotext(e), 2015), 127.
[50] Thomas Hobbes, Leviathan (Oxford: Oxford Paperbacks, 2008), Chapter XIII, Of the Natural Condition of Mankind.
[51] This short account of the Age of Reason is drawn primarily from Silvia Federici. See Federici, Caliban and the Witch: Women, the Body and Primitive Accumulation (New York: Autonomedia, 2004), 133–62.
[52] Some books we have found helpful include Jane Bennett, Vibrant Matter: A Political Ecology of Things (Durham: Duke University Press, 2010); Gilles Deleuze, Expressionism in Philosophy: Spinoza, trans. Martin Joughin (New York: Zone Books, 1992); Moira Gatens, ed., Feminist Interpretations of Benedict Spinoza (University Park: Penn State University Press, 2009); Antonio Negri, The Savage Anomaly: The Power of Spinoza’s Metaphysics and Politics (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1991); Tiqqun, Introduction to Civil War, trans. Alexander R. Galloway and Jason E. Smith (Los Angeles: Semiotext(e), 2010).
[53] Our reading of Spinoza is drawn primarily from Deleuze and those he has influenced. For helpful introductions to this lineage, see Gilles Deleuze, “Lecture on Spinoza’s Concept of Affect” (Lecture, Cours Vincennes, Paris, 1978), https://www.gold.ac.uk/media/deleuze_spinoza_affect.pdf; Michael Hardt, “The Power to Be Affected,” International Journal of Politics, Culture, and Society 28/3 (September 1, 2015), 215–22; Brian Massumi, Politics of Affect (Cambridge: Polity, 2015).
[54] “Ethics—Definition of Ethics in English,” Oxford English Dictionary (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016), https://en.oxforddictionaries.com/definition/ethics.
[55] Deleuze, “Lecture on Spinoza’s Concept of Affect.”
[56] This anecdote is based on conversations and exchanges with Kim Smith.
[57] Invisible Committee, The Coming Insurrection (Los Angeles: Semiotext(e), 2009), 32.
[58] Haraway, “Anthropocene, Capitalocene, Plantationocene, Chthulucene.”
[59] Ivan Illich to Madhu Suri Prakash, “Friendship,” n.d.
[60] This is drawn from Anonymous, “Robot Seals as Counter-Insurgency.”
[61] Coulthard, Interview with Glen Coulthard.
[62] See for instance Maria Mies, Patriarchy and Accumulation on a World Scale: Women in the International Division of Labour (London: Zed Books, 2014); Andrea Smith, “Heteropatriarchy and the Three Pillars of White Supremacy: Rethinking Women of Colour Organizing,” in The Color of Violence: The Incite! Anthology, INCITE! Women of Colour Against Violence, eds., (Oakland: South End Press, 2006), 66–73; Andrea Smith, Conquest: Sexual Violence and American Indian Genocide (Cambridge, MA: South End Press, 2010); Federici, Caliban and the Witch.
[63] Silvia Federici, “Preoccupying: Silvia Federici,” interview by Occupied Times, October 25, 2014, http://theoccupiedtimes.org/?p=13482.
[64] Dean Spade, “For Lovers and Fighters,” in We Don’t Need Another Wave: Dispatches from the Next Generation of Feminists, ed. Melody Berger (Emeryville: Seal Press, 2006), 28–39, http://www.makezine.enoughenough.org/newpoly2.html.
[65] bell hooks, Outlaw Culture: Resisting Representations (New York: Routledge, 2006), 249.
[66] Leanne Betasamosake Simpson, “I Am Not a Nation-State,” Indigenous Nationhood Movement, November 6, 2013, http://nationsrising.org/i-am-not-a-nation-state/.
[67] Leanne Betasamosake Simpson, interview by Nick Montgomery and carla bergman, email, November 2, 2015.
[68] Raúl Zibechi, Territories in Resistance: A Cartography of Latin American Social Movements, trans. Ramor Ryan (Oakland: AK Press, 2012), 39.
[69] Idem, 41.
[70] Silvia Federici, “Permanent Reproductive Crisis: An Interview with Silvia Federici,” interview by Marina Vishmidt, July 3, 2013, http://www.metamute.org/editorial/articles/permanent-reproductive-crisis-interview-silvia-federici.
[71] Mia Mingus, “On Collaboration: Starting With Each Other,” Leaving Evidence, August 3, 2012, https://leavingevidence.wordpress.com/2012/08/03/on-collaboration-starting-with-each-other/.
[72] Gustav Landauer, Revolution and Other Writings: A Political Reader, ed. Gabriel Kuhn (Oakland: PM Press, 2010), 214.
[73] Idem, 90.
[74] Idem, 101.
[75] Idem, 91.
[76] scott crow, Black Flags and Windmills: Hope, Anarchy, and the Common Ground Collective, 2nd ed. (Oakland: PM Press, 2014), 199.
[77] Richard J. F. Day, Gramsci Is Dead: Anarchist Currents in the Newest Social Movements (Toronto: Between the Lines, 2005), 127.
[78] Richard J. F. Day, “From Hegemony to Affinity,” Cultural Studies 18/5 (2004), 716–48.
[79] Subcomandante Insurgente Marcos, Ya Basta!: Ten Years of the Zapatista Uprising, ed. Ziga Vodovnik, (Oakland: AK Press, 2004), 77.
[80] Gloria Anzaldúa, “(Un)natural Bridges, (Un)safe Spaces,” in This Bridge We Call Home: Radical Visions for Transformation, Gloria Anzaldúa and AnaLouise Keating, eds. (New York: Routledge, 2002), 3.
[81] Zainab Amadahy, “Community, ‘Relationship Framework’ and Implications for Activism,” Rabble.ca, July 13, 2010, http://rabble.ca/news/2010/07/community-%E2%80%98relationship-framework%E2%80%99-and-implications-activism.
[82] Coulthard, Interview by.
[83] Glen Sean Coulthard, Red Skin, White Masks: Rejecting the Colonial Politics of Recognition (Minneapolis: University Of Minnesota Press, 2014), 31.
[84] Coulthard, interview by Nick Montgomery and carla bergman.
[85] Leanne Simpson, Dancing On Our Turtle’s Back: Stories of Nishnaabeg Re-Creation, Resurgence, and a New Emergence (Winnipeg: Arbeiter Ring Press, 2011), 32.
[86] Luam Kidane and Jarrett Martineau, “Building Connections across Decolonization Struggles,” ROAR, October 29, 2013, https://roarmag.org/essays/african-indigenous-struggle-decolonization/.
[87] Harsha Walia, “Decolonizing Together: Moving beyond a Politics of Solidarity toward a Practice of Decolonization,” Briarpatch, January 1, 2012, https://briarpatchmagazine.com/articles/view/decolonizing-together.
[88] Coulthard, interview by Nick Montgomery and carla bergman.
[89] Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche, Thus Spake Zarathustra: A Book for All and None, trans. Thomas Wayne (New York: Algora Publishing, 2003), 42.
[90] Coulthard, interview by Nick Montgomery and carla bergman.
[91] Mingus, “On Collaboration.”
[92] Simpson, interview by Nick Montgomery and carla bergman.
[93] Ursula LeGuin, “Ursula K Le Guin’s Speech at National Book Awards: ‘Books Aren’t Just Commodities,’” The Guardian, November 20, 2014, https://www.theguardian.com/books/2014/nov/20/ursula-k-le-guin-national-book-awards-speech.
[94] scott crow, Black Flags and Windmills: Hope, Anarchy, and the Common Ground Collective, 2nd ed. (Oakland: PM Press, 2014), 173.
[95] adrienne maree brown, “That Would Be Enough,” adriennemareebrown.net, September 6, 2016, http://adriennemareebrown.net/2016/09/06/that-would-be-enough/.
[96] VOID Network, “VOID Network on the December 2008 Insurrection in Greece,” B.A.S.T.A.R.D. Conference, University of California, Berkeley, March 14, 2010, https://www.indybay.org/newsitems/2010/03/18/18641710.php.
[97] Many works within this current remain untranslated into English; however, there are a few English sources. In particular, we learned a lot from Sebastian Touza’s PhD dissertation and our interview with him. See Colectivo Situaciones, 19&20: Notes for a New Social Protagonism, trans. Nate Holdren and Sebastian Touza (New York: Minor Compositions, 2012); Deleuze, “Lecture on Spinoza’s Concept of Affect”; Marta Malo de Molina, “Common Notions, Part 1: Workers-Inquiry, Co-Research, Consciousness-Raising,” European Institute for Progressive Cultural Policies, April 2004, http://eipcp.net/transversal/0406/malo/en; Marta Malo de Molina:, “Common Notions, Part 2: Institutional Analysis, Participatory Action-Research, Militant Research,” European Institute for Progressive Cultural Policies, April 2004, http://eipcp.net/transversal/0707/malo/en; Touza, “Antipedagogies for Liberation Politics, Consensual Democracy and Post-Intellectual Interventions”; Touza, Interview with Sebastián Touza.
[98] Touza, “Antipedagogies for Liberation Politics, Consensual Democracy and Post-Intellectual Interventions,” 210.
[99] Nora Samaran, “On Gaslighting,” Dating Tips for the Feminist Man, June 28, 2016, https://norasamaran.com/2016/06/28/on-gaslighting/.
[100] Matt Hern, “The Promise of Deschooling,” Social Anarchism 25 (1998), http://library.nothingness.org/articles/SI/en/display_printable/130.
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