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belle-keys · 1 year

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The People versus Grace Blackthorn (Meta)

So this is Part 3 of my little breakdown of the characters in The Last Hours, and here we have one of my favorite characters. I invite you to listen to Meg Myers as you read. Here we have Grace Blackthorn, who I would argue is one of Cassie's most complex and sympathetic female characters and antagonists across all series.

Preface: I will reference sexual abuse and grooming a few times in this (not in detail though), so just keep that in mind. Also please note that I absolutely recognize from the get-go what Grace did to James, Charles, Matthew, and others was indeed sexual assault (or at the very least, is akin to it) and that the bracelet was the magical equivalent of a roofie. I'm not particularly interested in breaking down Grace's actions or their obvious, undebatable moral depravity as much as I'm interested in her intentions, her childhood, her emotions, her complexity, and her character's treatment in the story. And moreover, I wanted to write this just because people in this fandom generally have no appreciation for nuance in a woman when men are somehow always forgiven, even for making indefensible choices.

This is not so much a defense of Grace Blackthorn as it is a deep dive into the awful treatment of her character by other characters in the context of the story and also by the narrative. A heads-up: While this isn't really about my personal feelings, I didn't particularly like what the story did with and did to Grace Blackthorn. If you absolutely hate Grace or characters that are like Grace, characters who have done unspeakably awful things and yet remain not merely the sum of their acts, then just skip this, because I have more favorable things to say about her character than about the way the story handled said character in Chain of Thorns.

Grace's Bitter Ending

It's quite strange how Cassie chose to wrap up Grace's arc in Chain of Thorns, because there was definitely a shift in the treatment of her character. Grace's character arc felt incomplete at best, which is really the only way I can think to describe her character's journey in ChoT despite the story having humanized her for the entirety of Chain of Iron. Grace Blackthorn wasn't villainized by the narrative, let's get that straight, Grace did actions to villainize herself, but the other characters in Chain of Thorns have even less of a nuanced perspective on Grace Blackthorn's background and story than the readers do, which is saying a lot.

Grace's arc ends on an acrid note: She has no friends, her relationship with Jesse has been permanently tainted, the one person in the main ensemble who was willing to defend her is quite dead, and she has retreated to the fringes of society. No, I'm not implying that she needs to be forgiven by James or any character for what she did - that's not even something I'm factoring into this discussion, and her forgiveability and forgiveness by the good guys is neither here nor there. But the path was paved for Grace to have a redemption arc, and you could also argue that she did what she needed to do to have said redemption in the context of the narrative, even if she didn't get redeemed in the eyes of the characters. But she got neither, which makes for a hollow conclusion to a stunning morally grey character. I was not expecting sympathy from the other characters towards Grace inasmuch as I was expecting a ChoI-esque sympathy from the narrative, especially considering that we're that she willingly went to the Silent Brothers, confessed to Cordelia about the gracelet, finished developing fire messages, and also helped the gang save London without expecting forgiveness in return for her actions. If we were to separate our personal morals from the equation, we would see that Grace's lack of a solid conclusion in ChoT, despite the story's obvious success in humanizing her and explaining her actions prior, makes an unflattering point: that redemption is simply unavailable to some, despite all the precedence in the world.

Chain of Thorns failed to reconcile the sympathetic, humanizing elements of Grace that we were given in Chain of Iron with the overall plot, the characters' perceptions of her, and with the narrative. It's incongruous, and it’s incredibly black-and-white storytelling that has only pushed for the demonization of Grace's character.

Burning the Witch

Most of the fandom's hatred for Grace started in Chain of Gold, and I have a hard time believing it's just because Grace was immediately characterized as this apathetic, gothic ice princess. The reality is that most readers already hated Grace before they even realized she was involved in shady demon bracelet shenanigans. And it's because she was getting in the way of their ship, that is, Jordelia, which, in some sick and ironic twist of fate, is part of the reason half the fandom also hates Matthew. Yes, I ship Herondaisy as much as any of you, but that's beyond the point. What I'm saying is that it seems so many people hate Grace and have been calling for her death or for her Marks to be stripped because their vitriol comes from a place of... shipping wars, and not offended morals. But it also comes from a place of internalized misogyny (which is very easy to apply to Grace, as she's not just a female antagonist, but also a very soft and feminine female character). After all, Grace's own femininity and Tatiana's own internalized misogyny were the factors that facilitated Grace's seemingly inherent capacity as a villainess in the trilogy. Let me say that again: Grace was forced to be the villain by virtue of her womanhood. Such a progressive trope! Some of Grace’s hate also comes from the fact that Grace (and Alastair) are perhaps the most relatable characters of the The Last Hours gang. The global readership is in no way as wealthy or as privileged as James or Lucie or Cordelia. The readership of The Last Hours, however, can keenly relate to Grace's isolation and loneliness because we all spent almost two fricking years trapped in our dorms and houses because of quarantine and social distancing. And frankly, on a purely statistical basis, most people's parents are likely to display qualities more akin to Tatiana’s than Tessa’s. I cannot think of a fourteen-year-old in the world who would not listen to the orders of the one person on whom they're entirely dependent, especially when it's an abusive caregiver who's involved lest they face death, abuse, or exile. Grace is a lonely, isolated girl who's been repeatedly sexualized in the story, who has no friends, and who struggles with her own actions and feelings, and that is incredibly relatable to a 21st-century adolescent female audience which definitely can explain, in part, the pitchforks. It's not an easy experience to see a piece of yourself in the villain.

The Venn Diagram of Victims and Perpetrators

Let’s bring some facts into the discussion, and a lot of what I have to say here are things that this post by @thousand-winters and the anon in the post reminded me about (so thank you). Grace was repeatedly hit by Tatiana and she was forcibly pimped out in Paris by Tatiana to seduce grown men when she was twelve. She was dependent on Tatiana and the threat that she would be cast out into the world or hurt if she did not obey. She was brainwashed by Tatiana to think the Herondales and Lightwoods were her enemy, was forced to put the bracelet on James when she was fourteen, and likewise, it was made quite clear that Grace took no pleasure in serving Tatiana. Grace was also prohibited from being a Shadowhunter, or at least, from training as one. She was interrogated by the Silent Brothers repeatedly (even in jail she wasn’t safe), and was prohibited from having any friends or companions, save her dead brother (who she was also commanded to seduce). It is correct that Grace was a perpetrator by the very definition of the word, but why is it always that this negates readers’ recognition that she was also a victim of her own circumstances, a victim of unspeakable trauma herself? And despite all of that, she was not even given the honor or closure of finally killing Tatiana.

And what’s worse is that the other characters who experienced trauma in their own stories, like James and Cordelia, got extremely favorable endings and closure to their individual traumas, as it was recognized that they indeed faced trauma. Grace’s own childhood trauma, none of which she was responsible for, was never addressed by other characters nor by the narrative as something from which she rightfully deserved healing. Despite the intense suffering she has undergone and the hand she’s dealt in life, it seems that what she has faced as punishment is still not enough the appease the readership’s bloodlust. The clash between her nature and her nurture was not even weakly echoed in the story’s conclusion. It was never recognized by the characters or by the narrative that Grace could indeed be the biggest perpetrator as much as the biggest victim of abuse, of grooming, of isolation, or of helplessness. Chain of Thorns, most of the main ensemble, and even the fandom have refused to acknowledge that multiple things can be true at once, thereby stripping Grace, à la lack of media literacy, of her complexity of feeling and of the harsh multiplicity of her character. Chain of Thorns, by virtue of Grace’s bitter ending (see first subsection), has ordered for Grace the sentence of Hell when a contemplation of Limbo is far more appropriate. How is it that we can sympathize with Sebastian Morgenstern by virtue of five poetic last words and yet refuse to acknowledge the complexity of Grace’s character after three whole books of backstory and explanation? Grace cannot and will not be absolved by the fandom, because the parts of her that warrant any absolution have been erased and neglected.

Kit Lightwood, Attorney at Law

As you can tell, I've been having some fun with my titles and subtitles. Anyway, as far as I'm concerned, Christopher was supposed to be that voice in the narrative that saw the nuance and acknowledged the shades of grey that comprise Grace Blackthorn (quite literally - her literal color palette is grey and silver, which is neat; it speaks to flecks of dust and the glint of blades). He was the only person in Chapter 24 who spoke in favor of Grace, in that he did not excuse her actions but pleaded for a degree sympathy towards her. This was perhaps my favorite thing that Christopher Lightwood has ever done, but then he immediately died. Grace Blackthorn was left to the jury without counsel after that. That scene was difficult for me to read, and not because anything James and the gang said was untrue (nothing they said was untrue about her). But rather it seemed like that entire conversation was designed, in tone and metatextual treatment if not in content, to remind us who were the good guys, the heroes, the victims. And yet again, the scene failed to acknowledge in any way, save Christopher, that Grace's own actions of perpetration were directly a result of her own victimhood. I don't believe she's owed forgiveness or sympathy, and I don't think there's any ethical argument you can make to say that she should be forgiven either (that doesn't factor in at all). But again, there was a failure to acknowledge that she was also a groomed child and that she was Tatiana's ward and pawn, someone simultaneously volitional yet powerful. I was especially surprised at Jesse's own lack of awareness of the fact that Grace had little to no choice in her actions. There was no recognition of the reality that Grace was severely mistreated and hurt by Tatiana because she was a girl (note that Jesse was loved by Taiana by virtue of him being male and the Blackthorn heir), because she was not Tatiana's blood (something Tatiana reminded her about), and because she was given the power of ensorcellment against her own will because she was a pretty girl. At best, Jesse was incredibly blind to what Grace suffered, and at worse, he was so protected by his male privilege in Tatiana's household that he failed to acknowledge the part that Grace's own evil powers played in bringing him back to life. Moreover, he has clearly been bestowed in Chain of Thorns a personality and unshakeable moral code that was designed to immediately ingratiate him to the Thieves and their own sense of, uh, impenetrable and sanctimonious honor. His own instantaneous condemnation of Grace reveals an obliviousness at best and unbelievable apathy at worst, and Jesse Blackthorn is the last character for whom this response made sense.

Conclusion: Estella can’t come to the phone right now because she’s dead

By way of conclusion, I'd like to say that I thought Grace was a promising retelling of Dickens' Estella at the start. And Cassie has explicitly stated that the idea behind Grace was to explain such a character rather than to make her sympathetic, which, Cassie has somewhat succeeded in. Nonetheless, Grace's character did absolutely nothing new with Estella and nor did it allow for a fair deconstruction of the femme fatale trope. We know little of who Grace Blackthorn is, despite having a very clear picture of her motivations, her background, and her emotions. And it's weird because we do have brilliant, complex, nuanced characters like Alastair and Matthew in The Last Hours. Grace Blackthorn has been stunted by her abuse, her upbringing, by her powers, by the gracelet, but also by her place in the story from a metatextual perspective, facilitating a slow and deliberate fandom crucifixion across all platforms. And all I'm left with is... why?

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masterjedilenawrites · 2 years

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Hey 🤗

So happy to hear that you're trying to get back to your writing 😊

So, for the fluff alphabet... Since I'm very indecisive in general... 🤦‍♀️

B, D, F, J, L, M, O, P for Hound, Thorn and Gregor, maybe...🙈🤭

If it's too much (probably is), you pick randomly what you want and feel like writing. I'll be happy and grateful with anything you do 💕💗

Oh gosh, so many letters 😅 haha I'll alternate between the three guys, but so glad you're requesting them because I'm eager to continue exploring their characters! (I still owe you some spicy HCs for them too 😉) Hope you're doing well friend!

B | Beauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

If Thorn could answer everything without getting an eye roll, he would. He genuinely means it. Their spirit, their wisdom, their appearance, their laughter... There isn't a single flaw or fault he could ever find in his partner, regardless if that's actually a healthy mentality to have or not. Once he's fallen in love, the rose colored lenses come on and he's completely lost in their entire beautiful self.

D | Dreams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Gregor definitely wants to settle down. Though he likes staying active and is always down for an adventure, he's also quite tired of the all travel as a soldier. He'll appreciate a more stationary life with his S/O, where he can take on long-term projects and get involved in the community. He also enjoys teaching and would love if his partner did too; they'd mentor kids and adults alike.

F | Fight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Hound doesn't get upset on his own, but if his partner's upset then he starts to lose it a little. He's more empathetic than he realizes, and if he can't quickly fix the problem or say the right things to calm them down, he gets frustrated. He'll huff and storm off, taking his mastiffs for a walk to strategize. He never argues and is quick to apologize if he does make a mistake.

J | Jealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Thorn gets jealous from time to time. But those times usually don't last long. He's never shy in straight-up asking his S/O what's going on, should he be worried, etc. He knows he can trust his partner and that they deserve to have good attention from others. If they're comfortable, he is, too. Just sometimes he'll feel a little sting of insecurity, like any other guy would with a gorgeous S/O.

L | Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

Gregor wouldn't know what came over him. One minute he was casually hanging out with his best friend, and the next, he's tearfully admitting to every hidden thought and secret emotion he'd ever harbored for them. He's practically on his knees and maybe he should be embarrassed, but damn if he isn't so gosh darn full of yearning that he doesn't care anymore. Now his heart's on the line and there's no going back.

M | Marriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Hound would have been hesitant about getting into a relationship, so in his mind, having committed to that means they're set for life, right? His partner will likely need to do the proposing... and the planning, and the paperwork, and tying all the other bows to make things official. He'll say he wants a small, intimate ceremony, but he knows so many people it becomes a whole big thing.

O | On Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

When Thorn is around his S/O, it is very obvious, despite all his best efforts to pretend otherwise. He can't help but be enamored by them, engaged in everything they say, somehow always close by no matter what's going on. When they're apart, then it's a lot easier for him to play it cool and act like a good solider who is definitely not breaking any rules, no sir.

P | PDA - Ae they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Gregor isn't shy with the fluffy stuff. Hand holding, pecks on the cheek, casual snuggles or foot rubs. If he's been away from them for a while, he'll also just go in for that long-awaited smooch, regardless who else may be around. The more suggestive/spicier stuff he'll save for more private locations... unless he's maybe had a bit too much to drink, then he finds it funny to tease in public.

Send a fluff alphabet request and help me get back into the swing of writing!

#star wars #fluff alphabet #ask box open #the clone wars #tender loving clones #TLC #sergeant hound #commander thorn #captain gregor #ronie my dear friend

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nonsubstantial · 11 months

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2023 book breakdown (first half)

~most of these, I listened to as audiobooks. But this is just a list of all the books I experienced this year, chronologically~

January ++

Nemesis Games (the expanse 5) - impact: 8/10

another solid entry in the expanse series, which has become a pretty comforting *go-to* for me at this point. There are a lot of things in these books that bug me, but their suspense and wit keeps managing to cover for their flaws. I have no doubt that further entries in this series will be simultaneously annoying and enjoyable, in the same way that this was.

February ++

A Court of Thorns and Roses (acotar 1) - impact: 3/10

I’m reading this series only because some podcasters I like started doing a podcast series analyzing it. While those podcasters (and one of my friends) really loved it, I unfortunately hated it. I can appreciate what they found good about these books, but I found the author’s inane descriptors and frequent misuse of words to be too distracting to overlook. Not only that, but I found a lot of the conflict to be rather trite.

March ++

The Count of Monte Cristo - impact 10/10...

several friends recommended this to me, one even going as far as to gift me their old copy before moving away. Unfortunately, I then slept on it for years, before finally picking it up. Holy shit though, am I glad that I finally picked it up. It may be correct to call it my favorite book of all time. This goes so far beyond being a simple revenge story. In fact, nothing in this book is simple, and I really feel like it manages to touch upon nearly every conviction that can exist within the human mind. While some of the narrative is archaic, that is only natural, since this book is nearly 200 years old. But despite being that old, there are some things in this story that still feel wildly progressive, even by today’s standards. Additionally, I feel that an understanding of the past, and the evolution of our culture, is important to understanding progress today. So I swear to you, this is a true masterpiece, and I hope that I can encourage other people to read it too, because it probably deserves to live on in our collective minds for at least 200 years more.

April ++

A Court of Mist and Fury (acotar 2) - impact: 2/10

as described in my blurb about the first book, I didn’t really like this series. I was having fun with the discussions about it, but holy shit it is waaaay too long, and I honestly feel like as much as I’ve heard that people can read into it as ‘empowering’, I really just found it to be insulting and trite. I felt like the language that the author uses to describe characters and relationships reinforces gendered hegemony, and their narrative doesn’t do many favors to class or social struggles either. I think I’d categorize it as a kind of wish fulfillment fantasy, but even then it’s way too long and the author’s constant misuse (or meaningless use) of words just left me feeling frustrated and offended.

Everyone on the Moon Is Essential Personnel - impact: 9/10

this book is one of the best collections of short stories that I’ve ever come across. Jarboe’s writing is thoughtful and to the point, usually utilizing clever metaphors for queer experiences. What really impressed me is how quickly I was able to understand every character and feel a personal connection to them. I could write a lot more about it, but reading this felt freeing and inspiring, in quite a unique way.

In The Watchful City - impact: 5/10

I was interested in the premise of this book, and its use of neopronouns, but I was left feeling a little underwhelmed. I liked the author’s ambition, but I feel like it failed in communicating its setting, as well as the main character’s motivations and feelings. Really, I see it as an interesting collection of ideas, but with none of them fully explored.

May ++

I did not finish a book in May :(

(only manga :3) (p.s. I love chainsaw man)

June++

Babylon’s Ashes (the expanse 6) - impact: 8/10

another wonderful entry in the expanse series. Way more gay representation in this one too. I feel like it brought less new ideas to the table, but it instead focused on re-examining earlier themes and really rounding out the best characters from earlier books. In fact, almost every important character makes a return here, without it ever feeling contrived... which I believe is a magnificent achievement. I’m counting this as my second favorite Expanse book, up until this point.

Leech - impact: 10/10...

a book so perfect, I'd almost believe it was written just for me. The basic plot is that (stay with me here) a brain parasite hivemind goes to a spooky castle to investigate the murder of one of its host bodies, only to discover that the death might have been caused by a *different* brain parasite hivemind. The story is gruesome and terrifying, and supported by worldbuilding that is so creative and poignant that I wanted to live in it forever. The author’s writing is also beautiful and precise, and as I said before, it really just delivered on every front.

#book recommendations #personal #2023

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tigger8900 · 8 months

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Thornhedge, by T. Kingfisher

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Toadling is barely a fairy — in truth, she's a human abductee who just happened to pick up a few tricks along the way — but when duty calls she answers, reporting to the mortal world to grant a gift to a newborn child. But centuries after what should have been a routine blessing went horribly wrong, she finds herself still standing vigil at the keep, now overgrown with brambles. When a well-meaning knight arrives, intent on uncovering the truth that lies beyond the thorns, Toadling will have to do everything in her meager power to ensure that the cursed princess sleeping within will never be woken.

This novella was dark, but at the same time cute(in a muddy, squishy sort of way) and occasionally funny. I couldn't help but root for Toadling, who was trying her best while everything was so impossibly hard. I also loved the character of Halim, who was in turns funny, caring, and somber. Something I appreciated was that there was no explicit romance on the page, though you could certainly read something into the Halim-Toadling interactions if you were so inclined.

While the story is dark, I wouldn't classify it as a horror story. Perhaps there's some horror in the story of the changeling, but it mostly hit me as sad and inevitable rather than scary. Horror is so deeply individual though, and I could see someone being very unsettled by the situation, especially if they have children.

The biggest strength of the story was undoubtedly the characters. The plot itself was average. I have no complaints about the Sleeping Beauty retelling, but it was nothing mindblowingly original. Plot-wise, I'd give this a solid 4 as far as fairy tale retellings-with-a-twist go, but I have to give it another star for how delightful the characters were. I actually really want a sequel with Toadling, but unfortunately I feel like this is going to be a one-off. I'll just have to settle for whatever else T. Kingfisher writes!

#books #book review #thornhedge #t kingfisher #fantasy novella #fantasy #novella #fairy tale retelling

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eyayah-oya · 3 years

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Return to Me

Clone Ship Week | Day 6 | Post-Battle - @cloneshipweek

Cody/Rex

Rating: G

Warnings: mentions of Point Rain, canon typical violence, disgustingly cute happy ending

Ao3 link

Geonosis was just as awful as every vod had ever described. It was hot and dusty, of course, but Cody didn’t really care about any of that. It was the number of brothers he’d lost on the way to Point Rain, the hundreds more killed by the bugs and their weaponry, on top of all the droids that seemed to come in never-ending waves.

Cody and the rest of the 212th were going to join General Mundi and the 21st Nova Marine Corps on the other side of the planet while Rex and his men worked with Gree and the 41st under General Unduli. They would be taking on the enormous droid factory the next day, and Cody would not be able to help any of them. He would have his own mission to run.

There were hundreds of vod’e all over the fortified base they’d managed to find and set up camp in. Brothers from all four battalions mingled and shared increasingly exaggerated stories. Cody had spotted Corporals Fives and Echo talking to some boys from the 21st, and he’d seen the medics fussing over the injured vod’e and generals. But there was no sign of Cody’s cyare.

“Lieutenant!” Cody called to 2nd Lieutenant Jesse of the 501st.

Jesse snapped off a sharp salute. “Sir!”

“At ease, Lt. Have you seen Rex around recently?” Cody asked.

Thinking for a moment, Jesse slowly nodded. “I think I saw him over by the remaining gunships, sir. He was talking to General Skywalker about half an hour ago.”

Cody nodded and clapped the trooper on his shoulder. “Thanks. Make sure you take some time to rest, Lt. We’re in for a rough campaign.”

“Of course, sir. You do the same and see if you can get Rex to sleep, too.”

As Cody walked away, he chuckled to himself. Little brothers were getting uppity. At the start of the war, there was no way any trooper, let alone one from a different battalion, would have talked to him so casually. It was a testament to how well the men of the 501st were relaxing around their Jedi and learning how to be something besides soldiers. It was nice.

Cody prayed to whatever gods watched over clones bred for war that Rex hadn’t gone back up to the Resolute already. He needed to see Rex and make sure his cyare was alright. Too many vod’e were walking wounded, and even more were severely injured or dead. As much as he knew it was a real possibility, Cody did not want to ever consider a reality where Rex marched on ahead of him.

“Hey, Commander!” Commander Tano chirped from out of nowhere. She smiled up at him with bright eyes that hadn’t been weighed down by war yet. She still had hope and Cody prayed that she would never lose that. Yet another thing he prayed for to unknown gods.

“Hello, Commander.” Cody dodged a pair of vod’e carrying a crate full of supplies and glanced down at Commander Tano. “Can I help you with something?”

“Jesse said you’re looking for Rex? I know where he is! But we have to hurry before my Master pulls him away again.”

If Commander Tano was willing to help him find Rex, Cody was definitely not going to say no. Especially after the massacre they’d just faced. “Thank you, Commander,” he said, warm affection warming his chest briefly. “I appreciate it.”

Commander Tano waved away his thanks. “It’s no problem. I get it. Master Skywalker practically ran to Master Kenobi’s side as soon as we got here, and I know Jesse went to go find a batchmate of his from the 41st. Sometimes, you just need to make sure everyone’s alive.”

“That is very wise, Commander,” Cody said. He really shouldn’t be surprised, but in his mind, the Commander was just so young. She shouldn’t have insights into how war worked, and why they needed time to recuperate after a bad battle, if only to reassure themselves that their loved ones made it out alive or to mourn the ones that hadn’t.

There were far too many mourning vod’e.

“I have a great teacher,” Commander Tano said with a warm smile. “Rex said you taught him a lot of what he knows and he’s been passing some of that down to me. It’s helped me in some tough situations, so I should be thanking you, Commander.”

“No thanks necessary, Commander,” Cody managed to say without choking or giving away his emotions. Not that it probably mattered since Jedi were attuned to the people around them. Only General Kenobi had ever thanked him for anything, and Cody was convinced that his General would thank Ventress after she stabbed him with her saber. Karking di’kutla jetti.

“Anyway, Rex is over in that tent, hopefully taking a nap. Coric was threatening him earlier with sedation, so he might have followed through on that threat.”

And with that, Commander Tano skipped away, most likely to terrorize some poor shiny who wouldn’t know how to deal with an overly friendly shiny Jedi Commander. Cody privately wished he had a holo of their flailing. It would provide some good laughs in the future.

Cody strode over to the tent Commander Tano had pointed out, and knocked on the frame.

“Come in,” Rex called and something inside of Cody’s chest loosened.

He undid the fastenings and stepped inside, taking his bucket off immediately. Rex was sitting on the cot, a datapad in his hands, likely going over the initial casualty reports for the battle. Most importantly, he was very much alive.

“Rex,” Cody gasped out with a strangled breath.

Rex jerked at his voice and then a second later, Cody had his arms wrapped around his cyare, breathing him in as he held on as tight as he could.

“Cody! You’re okay!” Rex said. He pulled back to give Cody a sharp look. “You are okay, right?”

“Yes, I am. I didn’t end up getting injured. That was purely my General,” Cody said, trying for some dry humor but it fell flat in the face of their combined relief. “What about you? I heard you got thrown off a wall?”

“Karking Fives and Echo,” Rex growled. “General Skywalker and Ahsoka caught me, so I wasn’t hurt. Nothing beyond a few bumps and bruises.”

Cody ran his eyes over Rex’s body, as though that would tell him if Rex was hiding any injuries with the armor in the way. Once he verified that there wasn’t any gaping hole or crack in Rex’s armor, Cody dropped his helmet to the ground and pulled Rex into a bruising kiss. His cyare responded eagerly, clinging desperately to the hard, sharp planes of Cody’s armor. There was no finesse, no sweetness in the kiss. Just pure, heady relief and a desperation to prove that they really survived.

Rex gripped Cody’s hair tightly with one hand, the other wrapping around his waist to pull him as close as their armor would allow. He sucked on Cody’s bottom lip and gently nibbled before letting go and pressing his head against Cody’s in a soft keldabe.

“I was so worried when we heard that most of your gunships went down, including General Kenobi’s. You’re usually flying with him.”

“We decided to split our forces. It was a really close call a few times, but we made it. We both made it,” Cody answered. He was shaking from relief at having Rex in his arms, alive and unharmed. Nothing would ever be able to beat that heady feeling of overwhelming gratitude to whatever gods were listening. They’d listened to at least one of his prayers today.

“Stay alive tomorrow,” Cody demanded after a moment of just breathing each other in. “That factory is going to be really dangerous.”

“I know. Gree is a solid vod, though. He’ll have my back and I’ll have his. Plus, we have the Jedi to help keep us safe.”

Cody very carefully didn’t think about the many times General Skywalker had gotten men killed by doing something reckless or stupid. The R2 droid was not important enough to sacrifice his padawan, Rex, and three other men to General Grievous. Out of four, only Rex and Denal had made it back, and Commander Tano had nearly been killed by Grievous when she kept Grievous from killing Rex, all for a droid. Cody was skeptical, but he also had faith in Commander Tano and General Unduli and her padawan. They’d protect the men while Skywalker handled whatever crazy idea he had.

“We will be safe,” Rex said, giving Cody a shake. “While you’re off with the Marines, you should talk to Bacara. They’re out of contact with most of the GAR. Only Neyo and Jet can get through the blockades to deliver supplies and intelligence to Nova.”

A frown carved the worry lines on his face deeper as Cody absorbed that information. “I’ll talk to him. See what we can do,” Cody swore.

Rex nodded. “Good. He’ll keep you alive. Bacara already told me he’s planning on sharing all of my embarrassing ARC training stories to you while you’re on campaign together.”

Cody grinned. “I’ve been trying to pull those out of Neyo, Keeli, Thorn, and Thire for ages now. And Bacara’s the one to spill the beans?”

Rex grumbled and buried his face against the crook of Cody’s neck. “He said I don’t have enough blackmail material on him to keep him from blabbing. He also said I don’t scare him because, and I quote, “I’m as terrifying as a sleepy baby nexu cub buried in a pile of nip”.”

“That—is strangely accurate,” Cody choked out, laughing at Rex’s offended growl. “You’re a little prickly, but everyone knows you’re just a softy. I mean, you’ve been teaching Commander Tano what I taught you?”

His cyare shrugged. “She’s in the middle of a war, and she doesn’t have the training we do. I don’t want to see her die when I could have prevented it. Nor do I want to see my vod’e die because she makes a bad decision. I’m giving her all the tools she’ll need to be successful and survive this war.”

“You’ve adopted her.” Cody couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it before. Rex had always loved with all his heart, as evidenced by the numerous vod’e who loved him unconditionally. Of course, Commander Tano would have made the list. “If she’s yours, then she’s mine, too,” Cody said. “We’re in this together.”

Rex finally peeked his head back out from where he’d hidden it against the small sliver of skin on Cody’s neck. “Really?”

Cody didn’t hesitate. He nodded and bumped their foreheads together. “I promise.”

For the first time since their first kiss, Cody had the amazing opportunity to see Rex completely and totally flustered. He blushed bright red, sputtering and coughing as he tried to find something to say.

It took a few minutes for Rex to completely compose himself and then it was Cody’s turn to be flustered. “Are you asking me to be your riduur?”

“What?” Cody spluttered.

For a second, Rex faltered. But then he squared his jaw and firmed his spine as if he was facing the worst of odds in a battle. “We are one when together. We already do that, and have done that since we were cadets. We are one when apart. At this point, I don’t think there’s anything that could separate us, even when we’re fighting on opposite ends of the galaxy. We share all. We tell each other everything. You said it yourself. What’s mine is yours, too. We will raise warriors. We are raising Ahsoka together, since we share all. Not to mention all of our men that we’ve both trained since this war started. If that doesn’t count, I don’t know what would.

“So, are you asking me to be your riduur?”

As Rex laid out each point, Cody found himself agreeing. He and Rex were already married, they just hadn’t said the vows to each other yet. And honestly, there wasn’t a better time than now. Cody would rather be married to the love of his life for a few hours, then never have married him and watched him die in battle.

“Yes, Rex of Torrent. I am asking you to be my riduur,” Cody said, determination in every cell of his body.

Rex lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Cody, bringing their foreheads together. “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome, mhi me’dinui an, mhi ba’juri verde,” Rex swore fervently, his whole heart bared for Cody to see.

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome, mhi me’dinui an, mhi ba’juri verde,” Cody echoed the vow, offering Rex his heart with every breath.

They shared the same space for a moment, pressing into the keldabe more firmly before their lips brushed together. Like a firework had been set off in his bones, Cody tugged Rex into a passionate, over-whelming kiss that stole their breath away. He could feel his heart swelling with the amount of love he felt for Rex, bursting out from behind the dam he kept on his emotions most days. It rolled over him until the only thing he could think of was that Rex was alive, in his arms, and that they were now married. What more could Cody care for in that moment?

Eventually, air became a necessity, and they broke away from each other to breathe. Rex gave a soft chuckle. “You do realize that means you’re going to have to adopt Ahsoka, too, right?”

“YES! I get two dads AND Cody has to call me by my name now!”

“Shh, they can hear you, Soka.”

“Oops! Everyone scatter!”

Cody laughed. His heart couldn’t contain the joy he felt, and he would carry that joy throughout the war as a hopeful flame for when they could all have peace again. But in that moment, he had all night with his riduur, and Cody planned on making the most of it.

#clone/clone #cloneshipping #codex #cody/rex #captain rex #commander cody #ahsoka tano #getting together #soft and fluffy #mild hurt/comfort #cloneshipweek2021 #day 6 | post-battle

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yeojaa · 4 years

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( ROSERAIE. )

What you had - so brilliant and beautiful and bright it was almost impossible to look at head-on - was what was tearing you two apart. It was your love that would be your demise.

pairing. jjk x f!reader.

genre + rating. my take on a hanahaki!au. pretty heavy on the angst. general.

tags / warnings. mention of minor character death, breaking up, soulmates, angst, unrequited love, sick character (hanahaki), bittersweet, non-idol.

wc. 3.2k

beta reader(s). my forever queens, @hobi-gif @snackhobi! you both bring such hope and joy (hahahaha) to my life!!! and of course, the loveliest angels @joheun-saram, @pars-ley, and @ditttiii for reading through and giving me excellent feedback!

author note. this is a part of @goldenclosetnetwork‘s 23 | jungkook’s birthday project. it’s my first time writing a hanahaki au so... i have a lot of headcanons for it but i’m not sure whether it all came across in the story. 😰 eep. anyway, please enjoy and feel free to leave any feedback. i would love and appreciate it! most importantly: happy birthday, kook! 💖

Your parents were a young match. Together from the tender age of eleven, they’d shared pieces of themselves readily, trading secrets in tree houses and blanket forts. Nothing was held back - a childhood crush brought to life by playful ribbing and sugar-coated snacks. Where your mother went, so did your father; she was his light as much as he was her shadow. Two halves of a destined whole, earnest and pure. Friends first.

It made perfect sense when they shared their dreams - the same one they’d had since they could remember - and it was identical: swimming in the ocean with a faceless friend, families on their respective four and three-week long road trips. They’d recognised each other immediately, felt the click the moment they stepped off the camper van. Your father had called it cooties; your mother said butterflies.

It didn’t matter that they’d never seen each other’s faces until that moment. There was the spark. Recognition. The rest was history.

Jungkook’s parents have been soulmates since the early 2000s. His father had lost his wife - his first soulmate - exactly one year prior to their meeting. He didn’t have his recurring dream until a fortnight before he met his wife. Hadn’t expected it, either. He’d been talking about his day in his local support group (it never got easier, he’d discovered) and he’d mentioned it in passing, glossing over the details of the vivid new pictures painted against his eyelids. His second wife - his second chance - had attended after losing her son. A complete chance. Serendipitous.

It wasn’t always simple, though. The heartbreaking endings came just as often as the happy.

There were people who lost their soulmates before even meeting them. They’d never know they’d lost their first one until the next dream came - if it came. If they were lucky enough.

There were message boards and dating sites. Places people stripped themselves bare and spilt their secrets to the world. Desperate for love, they detailed their dreams and hoped that their other half was somewhere out there, reading those same words.

Some, though, never found their special someone. Life came at you fast and from all directions - or it never came at all, caught somewhere across the globe in the form of someone you’d never meet. Those were the most painful circumstances, as if fate was cheating the system. Here’s a love you know you have, but that you’ll never experience. It was terribly cruel.

(But when was life ever fair?)

There were stories about those that never found their puzzle piece and how it felt, whether it hurt. Most said it was a quiet ache, something you never really noticed until you thought too closely about it, like a scar that had healed over or a loved one gone a long time. Painful in an explicable way and only - luckily, miserably - softened by ignorance.

Others spoke about it like death, missing an integral part of themselves. It played a large part of their life, shaping and changing them with each passing day. They couldn’t fully live without their person, even if they’d never met them. It was simply the principal of the matter.

You’d never quite existed in either camp. You’d always wanted to find love but you hadn’t rushed it. You figured you’d meet your happily ever after at some point. Maybe at your work - caught between the shelves or returning an overdue book - or maybe out with your dog, walking the same route you took every day. They’d show up one day. You were sure of it.

Love had a way of surrounding you.

Your best friends - because of course the two of them would fall for each other (it was nauseating) - had found each other young too, on the grounds of the elementary school you all played on. They’d been bonded since the beginning, secrets exchanged in art class and atop monkey bars. You’d cheered them on the whole way, giddy in a way you couldn’t describe. Being around it felt like standing beneath the sun, scorching heat warming you all the way to the core. It didn’t matter that you didn’t have it for yourself (yet).

They’d come. Eventually. You felt it in your bones and later, you’d learn, in your shins.

He’d come around the corner fast as a bullet, headphones in and hood pulled over his head. You’d barely have time to avoid him, poor coordination lending itself to disaster when only one of your feet would make it out of his path of destruction.

BANG!

It was something right out of a campy romance novel. Guy goes jogging, runs headlong into his dearly beloved and nearly gives her a concussion. He feels bad for her scraped knees and falls in love with her dog. His morning runs become theirs and six weeks later, over a late night bite of contrasting gelato flavours - green tea for him, bubble gum for her - they fit the pieces together.

Jungkook’s the faceless boy you’d always dreamt of, one hand on the wheel, the other resting easily on your thigh. He was the one with the slick black AppleWatch and long fingers. You’d never imagined he’d be covered in ink, immaculate designs running the length of his forearm all the way back and across his shoulders. In fact, you’d never thought about tattoos at all.

You get your first and only one with him - intricate red looped around your wrists and over your pinkies. Your own, very real string of fate, sealed and signed forever in rouge.

He was your Prince Charming, your best friend, your bonafide soulmate. You’d done everything together - skydiving, snorkelling, silly photos atop the Eiffel Tower. He’d adapted to your distaste of onions and took them all, meticulously picking them out of stir fries and sauces until not a single sliver remained. You’d learnt to tolerate his unbearably fast driving, white-knuckled and silent when he’d tear around corners too fast in a car too low. You fit perfectly, filling all the spaces he could never, keeping him whole even when he was broken.

Your love was of fairy tales but it was better than that too. Real. Concrete. Solid.

Until it wasn’t.

The two of you had never had any other choice.

That’s what it feels like, at least. He’d done his best - tried every little thing he could’ve possibly imagined - and it’d all amounted to nothing. He’d gone through all the motions, explored every avenue, given everything he had. It wasn’t working. This thing he wanted with every fibre of his being, that he’d hoped for his whole life, just wasn’t working. It wasn’t for him.

“I’m sorry,” he cries, and he knows you know he means it. You can read it between every line of his expression, tucked among the neatly scrawled india ink in faded red, underlining the passages you’d written together. He is sorry. He’d never meant to do this to you, nor you to him. He’d wanted to give you it all - make all your hopes and dreams come true.

Sometimes, fate just had other plans.

Because what the two of you had - so brilliant and beautiful and bright it was almost impossible to look at head-on - was what was tearing you apart. It was your love that would be your demise.

And he can’t bear to hurt the one he loves.

He’d tried so hard. Really, he had. You had too, more than he ever deserved.

There was simply no other option. You’d always come up short. You weren’t the one for him - not anymore - no matter how badly you wanted to be. You weren’t the one meant for him. You’d fumble for that ledge - held so impossibly high, just barely out of reach - before falling right back to where you began. The bottom. He couldn’t stand to see you there, brought to your knees once, twice, a hundred times.

He’d lose count if not for the petals.

Little ones, at first. Tiny pieces of silk you’d found on your pillowcase, outside the shower, in your water glass. They’d been unassuming - reminders you could easily ignore.

Then they’d grown, velvet softness that made it hard to breathe, that had him rubbing soothing circles over your skin, earnest vows winding like vines around your airways. Neither of you had had any idea why it was happening. You were soulmates - bound to each other and destined since the beginning. Your love wasn’t unrequited.

“We’ll figure it out,” he’d said. Sworn. “We’ll get through this.”

Your heart had broken with each promise; his had too, differently, but in perfect tandem.

(Spring still came, steadily, with a rose garden blooming within your insides and freesias in your nose.)

It wasn’t his fault. You would never blame him, even when it was his fist that broke yours, splintered it into a million pieces that cut worse than the thorns in your lungs. You knew this was just as hard for him. He’d had to watch you wither away, even as a patchwork of flowers blossomed in the spaces he’d thought he could keep safe. He hated it - could barely take it. It kept him up all night, tears in his eyes. Even when he slept - managed it, every few days - it’d prompt him awake in a cold sweat.

If he’d known then what had changed, maybe he could’ve fixed it sooner. Maybe he could’ve saved you the heartache. (Weeks later and during a coffee break with the new girl at his startup was not how he’d expected to find his answer.)

“I love you,” you tell him, an ocean of sadness. He loves you too, more than anything, more than there are stars in the sky. He loves you with every part of himself - and yet he knows now that’s what’s causing this. He loves you, but not in the right way. Every touch he offers is wrong, leaving you bruised, broken, barely breathing. It’s a disease - a venereal infection that seeps beneath skin and bone, settling within the marrow. It changes you from the inside out, realigns your DNA until you’re mutated and miserable.

The realisation is devastating: his love causes more harm than it heals.

So he stands there now, caught in the distance between you, eyes melancholy blue. His composure is frayed, crippled beneath the weight of your circumstance. He tries to memorise your face in these last moments - the colour of your hair, the shape of your stare. How you sound in the morning - voice raspy with sleep, dust caught in your eyes. The way you hold him close and the feeling of your eyelashes against his neck in the early hours.

Jeon Jungkook doesn’t want this to end. He doesn’t want to lose you, give you - this - up but he has to. He has to, for you. To give you a chance.

Even after having so little - only five short years - you were about to lose the rest of your lives.

You pack your bags - he helps, folding your favourite sweater (one of his, in truth) alongside your toiletries and undergarments - and you prepare to do the thing that you should never have to do. You sign papers, dot I’s and cross T’s, and put all your treasured memories away into cardboard boxes to never be touched again. You label them neatly and dress tape over edges; Band-Aids meant to hold together the deepest wounds.

You’re going under by anaesthetic and he’ll be here, where he has everything he wishes he could give you. A love he doesn’t deserve, within arms he wishes were yours.

He wonders whether he’ll still feel the pull once it’s done or whether his heart will stay there, tucked somewhere beneath the dug up roots. Whether it’ll be safe, undiscovered like a long lost treasure.

It’s best this way. He tells himself that - loops it on repeat until it’s the only thing he can think. It has to be better. For you, for you, for you.

He knows he’ll carry you with him forever. Like the air in his lungs, you’ll keep him going.

He’s snapped back to the present, to the small hallway of the home you’d built together. The traces of you are gone - all the photos hidden away, your row of shoes missing from beside his. It’s strangely bare. He knows it won’t last long. She’ll be here next week.

Your hand pushes against his cheek, thumb caressing along the seam of his bottom lip, right where the freckle sits. He’s a thief - a criminal, a sinner - when he dips his head, presses back into the warmth of your palm. This isn’t for him to take but he does anyway, eagerly and with deep regret.

“I love you.” Your voice cuts through all the white noise and agony - a beacon in the night, guiding him home.

He smiles, half-hearted and weak and not even his. Every part of him screams at him to beg you not to do it, to accept him for the man he is - lost and weak and sorry. He almost drops to his knees - fights tooth and nail against his aching limbs not to - and brings a hand to yours. The red threads looped around your wrists fit perfectly together, the ends of inked rope caught around your pinkies matching when his fingers slot between yours.

Don’t do this, he pleads, without words or hope.

“I’ll love you forever,” you tell him - promise like he had you. “You’ll always be the brightest star in my sky, Jeon Jungkook.”

He almost cracks - seams near splitting, adhesive tearing from skin - when you return his smile and he can see how hard it is. You’re already broken, all the pieces of your puzzle in terrible disarray.

You’re trying, for him.

“I’m so sorry,” he answers, because that is kinder than an I love you that doesn’t mean what you need it to. Because you deserve better - you deserve it in the same way you mean it.

So he’ll let you leave and he’ll pray this isn’t the worst decision of his whole life.

“I’ll see you.”

He hopes so. He can’t bear the idea of losing you again. He doesn’t think even she could fix him if he had to.

“Be safe,” he whispers, in a voice that stutters your stare and shatters what little resolve you have left. He sees it in your eyes - all the crystallised parts of your composure turned to ash. He wishes he could be sorry. He’s not.

“I love you,” you repeat with an air of finality.

Jungkook does the same: “I’m sorry.”

You leave, ushered into the back of your mother’s tiny sedan. She helps you with your bags and your seatbelt, rubbing your shoulder carefully when baby’s breath slips past your lips and falls all over your lap. She meets his stare when she climbs into the driver’s seat. He tries to read her expression. Understanding? Resentment? Gratitude?

The car pulls away with a groan, disappearing down the tree-lined street. Jungkook stands in the doorway for far longer than he should.

He’s moved on - settled down with the girl of his dreams. Literally.

She’s nothing like you, sarcastic and stubborn with a staunch refusal to ever come second best. She laughs maybe a bit too loud, giving him shit when he orders in another car part. She’d eat an onion raw, if she could, and takes showers hot enough to slough the skin from her bones. They have a home together and in a year’s time, he thinks he’ll propose. He’s not in any rush, though, because he knows she’s his forever.

(Knows it, even though you’d once been that same shining star to him. He has to believe it won’t happen again. Life can’t screw someone twice, right? Lightning never strikes the same spot or something like that?)

Still, he tries to forget the feeling of you.

It isn’t as hard as he’d thought it would be. The love exists as it always has, just differently, in the palm of his hand and not the space behind his ribs. You’re his best friend and he is disgustingly, unbelievably lucky.

He’d gotten his second chance. Even if he’d once resented it, he had everything now.

You still go for your morning runs and he still changes your oil because you’d never learnt how to. His parents invite you for Sunday dinners; you’re gracious enough to decline them. You don’t see it as pity - you just don’t want to intrude. (It isn’t your place any longer.) You accept all the changes readily, without regret. You promise you’ll go by one day.

Your parents never speak to him. He doesn’t blame them. At the supermarket, on the street, in passing when he’s coming and they’re leaving - it’s radio silent.

It’s been six months and you haven’t dreamt at all. They’d hoped - prayed - that you’d find someone new after him, someone to treat you right. You don’t mind, you tell them. I’ll meet my special eventually, you say (again, again).

He wonders whether you resent them for it - their concern, perhaps a bit overbearing and offered with a heavy hand. If you do, you say nothing, playing along each time they suggest you meet another friend’s son, another junior at your father’s accounting firm. You don’t understand the sad way they watch you.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles one night, seated at the neighbourhood cafe you’d frequented on your first date. Your idea, because you loved coffee and, in your old words, this was your place. The start of it all, where he’d knocked you hard onto pavement and stolen your heart in the process.

You don’t remember it now. Not in the same way.

This is somewhere you come for their great matcha lattes, where you waste a few too many evenings when you just want to get out of the house. It isn’t the place he’d told you he loved you or where you’d resolved your first fight.

(It’d been stupid. He’d forgotten to pick up groceries for your first dinner with your parents. You’d been so stressed you’d snapped at him, carrying tension into the rest of the evening. He’d apologised with an almond croissant and your favourite green drink.)

It’s like a wall has gone up, splitting your heart in two. The part of you that’d once been Jungkook’s remains out of reach, caught behind a gate neither of you have the key to.

“For what?” You quip, a milk moustache presenting itself over the rim of your mug.

Jungkook shrugs. He can’t make you understand. “Y’know,” he mumbles into his red bean mochi bun. It sticks to his teeth and coats them in soft white flour. “Just— everything.” It’s not enough, either as an explanation or an apology. It falls terribly short, barely worthy of a participation trophy.

“It’s fine.” You say it every time, clockwork in response to the same apology he always gives - out of the blue and vague.

“No, but I’m—”

You level him with a glare. It might’ve hurt once but now it settles like a scolding from a sibling. He reminds himself this is how it should be, you there and him here - two parallel lines.

The guilt never goes away.

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi

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ilovemesomekillianjones · 3 years

Text

Navigating the Storm (1/4)

Summary: Emma Swan navigates the aftermath of Neverland by trying to deal with everything the way she always has, by locking all her feelings away. Between having to share Henry with two other people now, her parents confession in the Echo Caves, her parents pushing her towards a man she has no interest in, and feelings for another man that she never expected to feel, Emma is at the end of her rope. *Post Neverland - No Curse*

Author’s Note: Thank you to my friend @hollyethecurious for beta reading this story for me! I have had this written for about three months now and have finally put on the finishing touches. This is part 1 of 4 - I will post a chapter a week. Hope you guys enjoy!

Rated M 4.5K ao3 ffnet Under the cut, promise

It had been exactly two weeks since they’d stepped foot back in Storybrooke, since bringing Henry home safely from Neverland. Two weeks in which Emma Swan had had very few chances to just be, to just breathe. Each breath felt like it was choked by the need to scream or cry. Two weeks of restless nights and emotionally fraught days; parents urging her toward a man she did not want, her mom wanting a new baby, another mom wanting her baby, not that she held anything against Regina. Henry was as much Regina’s as he was hers, she knew that, but that didn’t mean it didn’t weigh heavily on her soul. And of course there was Neal, who had been an ever-present thorn in her side during the last two weeks.

Emma wanted to blame everything on Neal, it would be so easy, but she couldn’t do that, there was rarely only one person to blame. She had to take some responsibility, too. He’d been bugging her about giving their relationship another shot, about putting aside the past to make a better future for Henry. Each time, Neal’s words would hit the solid mass of her thick skull and bounce right off, while simultaneously invoking a silent wrath in her being. What the everloving fuck was he thinking? How could the two of them being together be good for anyone? It didn’t help that her parents both still thought Neal was a saint. It didn’t help that each time they unwittingly made little comments about her giving him a chance, it felt like a little more of the world weighed on her shoulders.

Each morning she dragged her feet getting out of bed, if only to delay dealing with the barrage of shit she didn’t want to hear about or deal with. Of course, if she was honest with herself, she’d admit the reason she was feeling like this was because she was effectively not dealing with any of it. But why choose now to be honest with herself, she’d been content to ignore every other issue she’d dodged in life, abandonment, intimacy, self-worth, why stop now?

Emma hadn’t felt emotional sadness like this since the days between finding out she was pregnant in prison and knowing she would have to give her baby up. Her body felt heavy, her mind felt clouded, and her soul was just… sad, there wasn’t a better word for it. She hated this feeling, and when the sadness became too overwhelming, anger often surged in, and no one needed an angry Emma Swan around. She loved her family and her family-by-extension, but she needed a break.

As she walked toward Granny’s at a molasses slow pace, hands shoved in her jacket pockets, head down, where she was meeting her parents, Neal, Henry, and Regina for a late dinner, her eyes filled with tears. She struggled to inhale air past the lump forming in her throat. A deep anger rose within her, mostly because she was pissed at herself for wanting to cry. She didn’t know how to make everyone understand what she was feeling and why she was feeling it. No one had ever taught her the healing power of communication, while growing up in foster care. As the anger finally defeated the desire to cry, Emma Swan did what all responsible folks do and locked that shit up, deep inside where no one would see it.

“I saved you a seat, Ems,” Neal offered as she entered the diner.

“Yeah, look mom, right between me and dad,” Henry piped in.

Emma glanced at the six of them, one seat between Neal and Henry, no doubt by design and one seat at the other end of the table by her dad. “Uh, I have to discuss a case with David,” she lied. And boy did that make her feel like Shittiest Mom of the Year. “I’ll come back in a few.”

Taking off her jacket, she sat next to her dad and began speaking with him about the new project they were working on to make Storybrooke Sheriff’s Department digital. There was truly nothing she needed to discuss with him right this instant, but she could not handle another manipulation by Neal, especially in front of Henry, about getting back together.

“Why don’t you go sit with Henry and Neal,” David whispered, “we can discuss this tomorrow at work.”

Sucking in a deep breath to tamp down the edge of anger that started to creep up on her, Emma realized there was a silver lining here. At least he had whispered.

“I’m perfectly fine where I’m at,” she quietly replied, affecting a sense of calm she didn’t really feel.

“Oh, honey,” her mother began in what was not a whisper, “go sit down there, let me get a picture of the three of you.”

And just like that, there was another brick piled on her shoulders. She understood that her parents really did want what was best for her. Why couldn’t they just magically understand that Neal wasn’t it? She could hear Neal trying to coax her over and her head started to spin. She really did need that break.

As she choked on the sob that wanted to escape, the bell above the entrance rang, and if she’d never experienced what being saved by the bell meant, she was right now. “Hook,” she murmured, just a little more breathlessly than strictly necessary.

“What?” Snow asked.

“Hook’s here,” Emma said. “Why don’t you join us for dinner, Hook?” Emma called over to him. He was just the buffer she needed tonight. She didn’t miss the intrigue in his eyes, which he quickly masked with a conciliatory smile that didn’t quite reach those pretty blue eyes.

“While I appreciate the offer, I don’t wish to intrude,” he answered graciously.

“You’re not intruding, we were just sitting down to eat a meal. Everyone has to eat.”

“Well, if all of their Royal Highnesses don’t mind,” he acquiesced.

“Everyone scoot one seat to their right,” Emma instructed, she didn’t expect him to sit next to Neal, not with the current state of affairs.

Snow stared at her daughter wide eyed and Emma just stared back through narrowed eyes, hoping that her expression conveyed, he did save your husband’s life.

“Ems, I thought you were going to sit with me and Henry,” Neal asked, failing to mask the irritation in his voice.

And I thought I was meeting you with the bag of watches, not the cops, Emma thought bitterly. If Neal was going to use Henry against her, he was going to be sorry. She wasn’t going to stoop to the level of using a child to get what she wanted, but she was also not going to be bulldozed by her ex.

“That’s okay, dad,” Henry intervened. “Mom can sit with her friend. How’s the fastest ship in all the realms, Captain?”

Emma beamed at her son’s cherubic nature. He was truly good. He was innocent and perfect, and she felt like she might cry again as her young son saved her again.

“She’s jolly good, m’boy,” Hook answered merrily, obviously tickled that Henry had asked about his pride and joy. Or maybe it was simply because this boy treated him with common courtesy. Hook had vowed to himself to turn over a new leaf when he’d turned his ship around to help Emma save her son, and although he knew that, most people still treated him like the pirate they’d known him to be.

“You okay, Swan?” Hook asked her quietly, as conversation started up around the table.

“I- yeah,” she said, slapping on a smile, and even though it was an effort to smile, she found that she wanted to smile for Hook. She also found that he knew she was lying.

“If you ever want to talk about it, I’ve a never ending supply of rum aboard the Jolly.”

“I might just take you up on that,” she laughed. And it felt really good to laugh.

“I thought you said you’d back off,” Neal seethed as he walked over to their end of the table.

Emma looked between the two men before quietly sounding a warning. “We do not need another pissing contest here,” she hissed.

“Contest,” Neal fumed. “There is no contest, I’m Henry’s father, he’s a home-wrecking pirate.”

Emma’s head began to swim again as she listened to Neal berate Hook, as she read between the lines of what he’d said. He felt like he deserved her because they bore a child together.

“Is everything okay?” David asked.

Emma closed her eyes and weakly shook her head no. She would lose it if her parents got involved.

“Here Neal, why don’t you take my seat,” Snow offered.

Emma shook her head no again, but apparently no one was looking at her.

“Haven’t you destroyed enough lives?” Neal asked.

Emma’s eyes shot open and she’d hit just about her limit. Her throat felt like it was almost swollen shut as that urge to scream or cry or both, came raging back.

“Haven’t you done enough damage, Hook?”

“Bae-” Hook started

“Stop calling me that!”

“Neal,” Hook corrected, “it is not my intent to come between you and Emma. I was merely accepting the invitation she offered. I did say I would back off, I didn’t say I would ignore Emma if she requested my company.”

“Back off from what?” Emma asked, feeling a little annoyed that they’d been discussing her like a - she didn’t know what.

“Swan, I merely told Ba- Neal that I would not interfere if you two decided to pursue a chance at a family with Henry.”

“I think that is very noble, Hook,” Snow inserted.

“Not now, mom.”

“Well Emma, it’s only fair that you two have a real shot, now that you’ve been reunited,” Snow argued, “and I was just saying that I think it’s noble of Hook to put his feelings for you aside to give you and Neal that chance.”

That was it, that was her limit. Chances? Reunited? FAIR? The lights flickered twice before pitching Granny’s in darkness. Emma stood up and placed both her palms flat down on the table.

“Regina,” Emma said in a ragged voice, barely containing her emotions, which she desperately wanted to contain with Henry present. “Take him home, please.”

“Come on, Henry. I have lasagna at home,” Regina said, without having to be asked again. She could feel the energy of the situation sizzling about, and she knew only too well the magical properties of raw emotion. Of course Henry instinctively knew to listen as well. “Granny’s is closed,” Regina announced, “Mayor’s orders.”

The several patrons around had the good sense to slap some money on the counter and head out.

“I love you, mom. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Henry said as he and Regina readied to leave. He came to her end of the table and gave her a hug.

“I love you too, kid,” Emma responded as she ruffled Henry’s hair, and the lights flickered back to life.

Once Henry and Regina were gone, Emma eyed her parents. She tried breathing in and out slowly. She didn’t want to fight, she didn’t want to hurt them, she didn’t want to cry. But something had to give.

“Mom, Dad,” she whispered, as she knew her voice would crack if she attempted to speak in a normal voice. “I’ve been having a really-” a broken sob overtook Emma, halting her words. Her face crumbled, tears filling her eyes and falling to her cheeks, as the full weight of what she’d been dealing with overwhelmed her.

“Oh honey,” Snow cried as she stood up to try and comfort her daughter.

Emma held up a hand and shook her head no at her mother. “Please… don’t. I have to do this.”

Snow’s face fell as her daughter rejected her, but she sat back down to comply with her daughter’s wishes.

“Go on, Emma,” her father said quietly.

Nodding her head, she took another big breath. “I’ve been having a really hard time since we came back from Neverland. I’m happy that you want a new baby, I am, but it also hurt to hear that you wanted to have a chance to experience everything we never got to, and I know that’s not your fault, but it still hurts. And I am happy that Henry has Regina, because no matter what, she really does love him. But it hurts to have to share him with her when we have a third person to share him with now, it’s less time, when I’ve already missed so much.”

“It wouldn’t be if you spent time with me and Henry,” Neal muttered.

“Goddammit, Neal!” Emma yelled, pounding her fists on the table. “You have got to stop that. I’m struggling with my parents wanting a new baby and I am struggling with sharing Henry with you. But my biggest problem, the one that eats away at me every day, is you! I can’t stand the way you try to manipulate me in front of my son, making it seem like I’m the only reason we can’t be a family. You showed up to Storybrooke with a fiancée, don’t act like you came back here to win me over or some other noble bullshit. And I can’t stand that my parents think you should be my happy ending.” Another sob choked her words and she paused to catch her breath. “You will never be my happy ending,” she yelled before leaving the diner.

Emma jogged down the walkway, unsure of where to go, but knowing she couldn’t remain in there one second longer. She didn’t want to see the looks she’d put on her parents’ faces anymore and she didn’t want to deal with Neal. After an hour of wandering, she found herself down by the icy cold shoreline. She sat down in the freezing sand and folded her arms around her legs. Resting her chin on her knees, she lamented the fool she’d made of herself and the mess she’d made of things.

“Awfully cold for camping at the beach,” Hook said.

Emma jumped so hard, it hurt her butt when she landed back in the unforgiving sand. “Jesus Christ, you scared me. Are you following me?”

“Sorry, love,” Hook apologized, holding hand and hook in the air as he always did when she went on the offensive. “I didn’t mean to alarm you. And no, I am not following you. I was up on the deck of my ship and saw your golden hair in the moonlight; wanted to make sure you don’t catch your death out here.” He handed her a blanket.

“Thank you,” she said through chattering teeth, only now realizing just how cold it was. “You probably need to invest in some warmer clothes if you’re planning to stay in Storybrooke for the winter.”

“Is that an invitation, Swan?”

She just rolled her eyes as she held her hand out to him to help her up.

“Don’t worry your heart, I am plenty hot,” he flirted, extending his hand and pulling her up.

“You are plenty full of yourself is what you are,” she laughed. “I don’t know why I ended up here. I just… I cannot go home. I should probably see if Granny has a room available. Paying her some rent is the least I could do after clearing out her customers.”

Hook scratched behind his ear, his nervous habit that always made Emma chuckle inside, because how did The Captain Hook have a nervous tic?

“You could stay on the Jolly, if you like. You know, instead of walking back to Granny’s.”

“Is that an invitation, Hook?” Emma countered.

“Actually, it is,” he said as he bowed deeply, holding his right hand out in the direction of his ship.

She decided it was probably her best option for the night. She didn’t want to see her parents at the loft, she definitely didn’t want to risk running into Neal at Granny’s, and she was far too proud to ask Regina for a crash pad. So, she followed the direction of Hook’s extended hand and headed to the Jolly.

“Thank you,” she mumbled as they headed down into the Captain’s Quarters. It was only slightly warmer below deck, and she wondered how cold he got at night.

“Perhaps a little gratitude is in order,” he smirked, pointing his finger to his lips as he had done several weeks ago.

Emma didn’t even have to think about it this time. She launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and backing him up against the wall. She kissed him just as passionately as she had back on that Hell Island, but this time, she had no intent of limiting their activities to just a kiss.

“Swan,” he moaned against her mouth.

“Hmmm?” she hummed as she continued to learn his mouth and his tongue which had come out to play.

She loved the way his hook felt pressed at her back and the way his hand cupped her cheek before sliding into her hair. She took the opportunity to quickly run her hands up through his chest hair before shifting them up under his jacket to divest him of it.

“Swan, stop,” he whispered between kisses. “Stop, darling.”

Emma immediately pulled back. Like, what? “What’s the problem,” she asked defensively.

“I apologize lass, it was a poorly timed Neverland reference.”

“A… joke?” Emma’s head began spinning again. One million thoughts ran through her head as her brows furrowed and panic hit her eyes. Her mouth turned down as a strangle hold settled over her... rejection. She’d had one melt down and now she was damaged goods in his eyes. A one time thing, she’d said, and he was the one who was going to enforce it. “I have to go,” she muttered, mind already on auto pilot to the lovely land of orphans-aren’t-worthy-of-love.

Killian quickly blocked her path to the door. Bad move.

“Get. Out. Of. My. Way,” she seethed. “You don- don’t want me...” Oh fuck, she panicked, the tears were going to start again. When would this roller coaster come crashing to a halt? Emma Swan, Dumpster Fire, she mused, it had a truer ring than Emma Swan, Savior.

“Don’t you tell me what I want or do not want,” Hook reprimanded. “I want you, I have wanted you, far more and far longer than you know.” He stepped into her space and lifted her chin with his hook, until she had no choice but to look into his eyes. “Make no mistake about that, love.” A fire burned between them, something palpable, and only by sheer force of will, was Hook denying himself the pleasure she’d been looking to bring him mere moments before.

Truth. Truth is what she saw in Hook’s eyes. “Then why are you pushing me away,” she asked, lips still quivering with the threat of tears.

“Because I won’t exploit your emotions, that would be the pinnacle of bad form.”

“What?”

Hook took her hand and led her to sit on his bed. “Emma, you just confessed major hurt and heartache to your parents. You obviously have unresolved issues with Bae, and you’re harboring a sadness that is ruling your emotions. Despite Neverland and everything that happened there, I have never seen you this close to the brink of despair.”

A tear slipped down as Hook brought his hand up to cup her cheek. “Look at me, Emma.”

She sniffled, but complied, as she realized he was not going to continue until she looked at him.

“You are strong, and you will get through this, but a quick romp in the sack is not part of the solution. I cannot in good conscience let you lead us down a path that you will undoubtedly regret. It’s not fair to you and it’s not fair to me.”

“If I don’t get to tell you what you do or don’t want, then you shouldn’t get to tell me what I will or won’t regret,” she huffed.

Hook smiled at the fire that lit his Swan, and continued on, “I did promise Bae that I would back off, I thought it was best for Henry, if it was what you wanted as well.”

“I don’t want that,” Emma interrupted.

“I know you don’t want that. Tonight made that clear,” he assured her. “But tonight also showed that you have some things to work out. I am here for you, Emma, and no matter what our future holds, I will stand by your side and help you traverse all of it. But where matters of our hearts are concerned, I cannot be your port in this storm if you only plan to pack up and set sail when the tide calms and the tempest parts.”

Tears surged forth once more as she lunged at Hook again, but this time just to throw herself into his embrace. She didn’t even know why she was crying, but she knew that this, him, everything he’d just said, this was what she needed. Someone to stand by her side, someone to accept her for her, someone who knew that she had shitty baggage but was okay with it and wanted to help her lighten her load. “I just want to forget, I want five minutes where I don’t feel like everything is closing around me like a vice.”

“That’s it lass, everything is going to be okay, I promise,” he murmured as he wrapped his arms around her protectively. “Let it out, crying can be quite cathartic when you let it.”

Emma cried a little harder as she listened to his soothing voice. She sat up many moments later when she’d cried herself out. Wiping away her tears, she looked at the man next to her. “How did you get so wise,” she asked in a nasally, I’ve-been-crying voice.

“How’s that?”

“About crying being cathartic.”

“Ah,” Hook chuckled as he blushed a bit. “You pick up some things as the centuries pass. I may have learned that sometimes letting out pent up emotion is better than harbouring it until it blows up.”

“Thank you, Killian,” she whispered, before leaning in and tenderly placing a chaste kiss to his lips.

“You called me Killian.”

The bit of awe in his eyes made Emma giggle. “That is your name, isn’t it?”

“Aye, but you know what I mean, love,” he chuckled with her.

She laughed again until she was caught in a yawn that wracked her whole body.

“Let me get you something to sleep in.” Hook went to an antique armoire and pulled out one of his shirts and a pair of long johns. “These should keep you warm.” After handing them to her, he placed a kiss on her cheek. “I’ll let you get some rest, no doubt your day has been taxing.” Then he turned to leave.

Before he could make it to the door, Emma reached out to grab his hook. He turned around to see what she needed.

“Will you stay with me?”

His eyes pleaded with her not to tempt him into breaking his word. His good form.

“I promise I won’t jump your bones, sailor.” She rolled her eyes playfully, but then she glanced away and folded her arms around herself, a vulnerability encasing her whole form before she spoke again. “I just want you to hold me,” she whispered.

His chest ached for her, for this tender side of Emma Swan that he’d never been privy to. Why would he ever deny her something as simple as holding her? “Of course, love.” After changing into something passable for sleep attire, he joined Emma in his bed.

“I know this is going to sound sappy, but today, at Granny’s, when you showed up, I was on the brink of losing my mind,” Emma confessed as she lay snuggled against his side, his right arm wrapped around her, making her feel safe. “But when I saw you, I felt like… like I might be able to get through it, like everything would be okay, if only you were with me. That’s why I asked you to stay.”

“And did it help, having me there?”

“All I know is, even though I didn’t say everything I need to get off my chest, I did get through part of it, and I am glad you were there.”

“Happy to oblige, darling.” Hook craned his neck forward to place a kiss to the crown of her head.

Pulling the blankets up to her neck, Emma shivered. “Give me your other arm, you’re warmer than these blankets.”

“My hook,” he said, holding up the shiny version of his moniker. “I wouldn’t want to accidentally harm you.”

“Then take it off,” Emma responded as though it were the most obvious answer in the world.

“I don’t think so, love.”

“Why not?” she asked, sitting up to look at him.

Hook took advantage of his freed arm and scrubbed his hand over his face. “It’s not a sight I wish you to see, it’s actually quite revolting.”

“I don’t believe for a second that any part of Killian Jones is revolting,” Emma said, gently pulling his left arm toward her.

“Swan,” he groaned.

“Killian, you saw me at my most vulnerable today, and you didn’t run for the hills. I won’t either,” she promised softly. “I don’t think you understand that what I like about you is this,” she placed her hand over his heart, “the man you are.”

Killian placed his hand over hers, where it rested on his chest and brought it to his brace. “Okay then, go ahead.”

Carefully unfastening the buckles, Emma pulled the entire brace away from his arm. She held his forearm in one hand and ran the fingers of her other hand over the scarred flesh, inspecting the damage. Although Hook was right, it wasn’t a “pretty” sight, it wasn’t nearly as bad as he would have had her believe. “Does it still hurt?”

“Aye, sometimes.”

She delicately massaged in a downward motion, from his forearm to the end of his wrist, and watched his face. He wasn’t making eye contact with her, but rather, watching her ministrations. He looked half panic stricken, like he might bolt, and half enchanted by her touch. She followed the pattern several times until he’d fully relaxed to her touch. “See, was that so bad?”

Hook’s face was a deep shade of red and his entire body had broken out in goosebumps. He didn’t know how to answer her question. He had never willingly let another person see his mutilated arm, let alone touch it. On one hand, it was that bad, he felt laid bare before her and he was still dressed. On the other hand, or hook, as it were, he felt something akin to what she had explained earlier, like he would be okay, because she was there. “I suppose not,” he murmured, all the more enamored by this enchanting woman.

“Good.” Laying back down, she wrapped both his arms around her and snuggled into him. “Much better.” Emma slept better that night than she had since they’d come home from Neverland.

Tagging some lovelies - please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

@laschatzi @qualitycoffeethings @hookedonapirate @wordsmith-storyweaver @kmomof4 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @wyntereyez @hooklineandswan @teamhook @let-it-raines @whimsicallyenchantedrose @spartanguard @tiganasummertree@apromisednightcap @xemmaloveskillianx @elizabeethan @cocohook38 @optomisticgirl @darkcolinodonorgasm @jennjenn615 @timeless-love-story @girl-in-a-tiny-box @thesschesthair @galadriel26 @ultraluckycatnd @lifeinahole27 @therooksshiningknight @kday426 @djlbg @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @lfh1226-linda @delightfully-difficult-pirate @thejollyswan @csalltheway @xarandomdreamx @vvbooklady1256 @withheartfulloflove @resident-of-storybrooke @mcakers @gingerchangeling @searchingwardrobes @snowbellewells

#cs ff #cs fan fic #captain swan #captain swan ff #captain swan fan fiction

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birdkujapropaganda · 3 years

Text

my completely biased and official rating of every keyblade ever:

Kingdom Key: absolute classic. excellent design for the like, mascot keyblade. very simple, vaguely key shaped. i hate the mouse head though it's so stupid and makes no sense. and i hate mickey. 9/10 minus a point for the weird mickey keychain

Oathkeeper: wonderful. amazing. never boring. excellent design love the heart and wings and all the significance. and that the keychain is kairi's charm? terrific. 10/10

Oblivion: brilliant. awesome. phenomenal. again excellent design the wings and chains and purple crystal are absolutely perfect. love the crown keychain. 10/10

Ultima Weapon 1: literally just a sword with some filigree on it. nice. too much yellow and i don't like the weird cyan gradient on the guard. 7/10

Kingdom Key D: d for disgusting. i don't have any other comments i just hate it. 2/10

Keyblade of Hearts: yeah that sure is an anti-keyblade. love the simplicity and the heart in the negative space of the teeth. and that it doesn't have a keychain, that fueled a lot of theories for 12yo me 8/10

Lady Luck: i think i don't like this one bc to get it u need to use a white trinity but you can't do that until near the end and i have way cooler blades to use. the design is pretty ok, don't really get the card keychain tho. 5/10

Olympia: oh the sight of this one makes me irritated because the kh1 strategy guide uses this in one of the pictures for the fight against possessed riku. it did not help me win. and i hate short keyblades. love the clouds and columns though 7/10

Jungle King: kinda ugly but i appreciate that it looks kinda handmade. also like the butterfly keychain bc it doesn't look like it fits but it Does. also the first good alternate blade u get in the game so. 8/10

Three Wishes: not bad but it doesn't stick out to me either. also doesn't scream agrabah to me but also it does? 6/10

Pumpkinhead: NICE. very long and very cool. the teeth looks like bat wings and a pumpkin so very epic. 9/10

Wishing Star: so pointless i already have pumpkinhead. also short. cute design though i like the gears. 5/10

Crab Claw: i never used this one because it stuck out so ugly in Halloween Town </3 i love blue and crabs though so 8/10

Fairy Harp: I HATE YOU DIE. short and stupid. does NOT remind me of neverland at all. 1/10

Divine Rose: pretty nice but short and lategame. always thought its existence was kinda weird?? like thanks belle but why. i have oblivion. 7/10

Spellbinder: for some reason i really don't like it. i like blue and the circles are neat. the handle looks really painful though. 4/10

Metal Chocobo: kinda ugly lol. love the holes and chocobo keychain. 8/10

Lionheart: oh i am so biased by recoded. absolutely excellent keyblade. design's kind of weird tho where are those lions going. 9/10

Diamond Dust: so i was really confused because i thought this was khux-only or maybe bbs keyblade but apparently it's kh1 final mix only. you know what i got as a reward for fighting the ice titan? sephiroth. you know what i got for fighting sephiroth? NOTHING. it was my favorite khux blade though so grrrr 7/10

One-Winged Angel: grr bark bark final mix again fuck you. kinda weird design though like what is the teeth? a meteor? should've been a wing. nice guard though there's not enough hand room. excellent keychain obviously. 8/10

Ultima Weapon 2: very similar to the first but blue and symmetrical. very good learn from your mistakes. 9/10

Way to Dawn: YEAAAHHHHHHH BOY HERE IT IS PERFECT EXCELLENT GREAT DESIGN WONDERFUL LORE. HAS WINGS. THE EVOLUTION FROM SOUL EATER. THE LACK OF THORNS ON THE HEART. 10/10

Destiny's Embrace: very cute!! my favorite part is the name. i wish it wasn't so like. stereotypically girly though. like you look at the destiny trio's keyblades and can immediately pick out which one is The Girl's. 9/10

Star Seeker: i wanna hate it because it's mickey's/yen sid's but honestly it's so nice. the stars and moons and comets and gradients and colors... wonderful 9/10

Rumbling Rose: oof. weird and ugly and gross. keychain looks like a ladybug from far away. 3/10

Hero's Crest: bring the clouds back. i don't really get the design but i like columns. 5/10

Monochrome: super cute!! i don't like Timeless River but this fits it so well and has cute hit effect. 8/10

Mysterious Abyss: i always get this one way late in the game so it's always pretty pointless oops lol. also the design doesn't really say atlantica?? 3/10

Follow the Wind: another weird miss but i like this one more. nice wheel shaped guard, and that the keychain is a cursed coin. 6/10

Wishing Lamp: now THIS is the agrabah keyblade. very nice and elegant. looks like the palace! 7/10

Decisive Pumpkin: THIS ONE 😭😭 it's so ugly but it's so strong so i have to use it but it's so ugly. it does look like jack's idea of christmas so points i guess 😭 4/10

Circle of Life: also pretty ugly. and short. sorry simba. 3/10

Sweet Memories: shrek voice it doesn't even have attack. i don't like winnie the pooh so that's definitely influencing me. makes cute noises iirc and looks pretty cute. 4/10

Photon Debugger: this one should look pretty cool but my brain is saying it's bad. i think the giant red ball by the teeth are throwing me off. love the neon blue tho 5/10

Gull Wing: why the weird space in the name. anyway. i really want to love this keyblade bc i love X2 but it's really bad. i'm so sorry YRP kh did you so wrong. excellent keychain choice though. 2/10

Guardian's Soul: MUCH better thank you. auron my beloved <3 the lines are very appealing and i like how simple it appears. also looks like auron's swords. 8/10

Sleeping Lion: wayyy better than lionheart. looks kinda like a gunblade! again though what are those lions doing. 8/10

Fenrir: my car key got in a fight. 1/10

Bond of Flame: looks like a bad first draft of axel's keyblade. either the teeth or the guard should look like a chakram, pick one. love it though. 7/10

Two Become One: MY BELOVED <3 excellent design, so so so roxas i think he should use it. very excellent i love the little twist at the top. checkered handle is a little weird. 10/10

Fatal Crest: lol i was so mad when i first saw this because it looked like one of my oc's keyblades. i like it now though, it's a dragon!! pretty neat bro 8/10

Winner's Proof: oh this one is so cute. if it wasn't a reward it would be really weird and bad. surprisingly elegant! and there's even 13 mushrooms on it! 9/10

(shoutout to portadorx on deviantart for the 358 keyblade refs)

Missing Ache: YOU. interesting design, though it says roxas more than ventus to me. great first alt keyblade. 7/10

Ominous Blight: very edgy names in this game <3 looks like guardian's soul, which is interesting. i don't like yellow but it works bc blight 6/10

Abaddon Plasma: what a cool fucking name. so many yellow keyblades. but very cool looking i love roxas' aesthetic 8/10

Pain of Solitude: this is just pink missing ache. 8/10

Sign of Innocence: SO COOL. idk what's going on in most of these blades but i love it. 9/10

Crown of Guilt: come on. it doesn't look like a crown. big disappointment. very cool though 6/10

Abyssal Tide: so cool!! i love blue and fighting in midair <3 the teeth kinda looks like waves 8/10

Leviathan: weirdly furry looking. very cool guard 6/10

True Light's Flight: looks like two become one if it was only one. the top kinda looks like the nobody sigil 9/10

Rejection of Fate: SPEAR. epic name too, but i think it should swap names with true light's flight. very cool but i don't remember seeing it in name. kinda awkward bc it looks like it should be a spear 7/10

Midnight Roar: sooo cool. the orange handle pops without looking wrong... nice. also the teeth kinda look like a bat. 9/10

Glimpse of Darkness: ugly. weirdly bulky and hollow. short. 3/10

Total Eclipse: weirdly bumpy sword. i like how the orange looks like it glows. 5/10

Silent Dirge: GoD but purple. 2/10

Lunar Eclipse: TE but purple. 4/10

Darker than Dark: Hello 😳TLF but purple 10/10

Astral Blast: Abyssal Tide but yellow. interesting choice, but kinda clashes with the blue accents 7/10

Maverick Flare: Ominous Blight but red... excellent. very nice. 8/10

Twilight Blaze: Abaddon Plasma but red... also excellent. very epic. 9/10

Omega Weapon: props for not looking like any of the ultima weapons. very interesting and spiky but i kinda don't like it. 6/10

Aubade: kinda weird. "draws forth its wielder's personality"... ok. looks light elemented. 7/10

Wooden Stick: lol 10/10

Umbrella: not what i would've chosen but lol 10/10

Zero/One: WONDERFUL, EXCELLENT, AMAZING. i can't really explain why i love this one so much it's just very good. 10/10

Earthshaker: very solid design. not much to say it's just nice. love the colored guard. 7/10

Ends of the Earth: love that it is so clearly an earthshake upgrade. makes u realize how incomplete the first one is. 9/10

Dreadgnaw: kinda silly looking lol those are teeth. love the red bit in the center. looks very similar to earthshaker in a good way. 8/10

Chaos Ripper: looks like EotE but in a bad way. i don't like the weird teeth. it's also almost impractically long but i'm here for that. ALSO THE EYE. NICE. 7/10

Rainfell: oooo i love this it's so simple but so nice. very elegant 9/10

Stormfall: less nice. looks like a rainfell upgrade though. also kinda looks like master's defender which makes sense but i don't like it. 6/10

Brightcrest: GORGEOUS. PERFECT AND WONDERFUL. SO PRETTY. i wish it was kairi's. kinda looks to ornamental for aqua? but good for her. 10/10

Wayward Wind: none of ventus' blades look very ventusy to me. this one looks like an extra training one they had sitting around. cool shape though 5/10

Frolic Flame: NICE. looks like lea's frisbees! i like fire and fire designs so but it's a little awkward looking 8/10

Lost Memory: ok so first off WINGS. EXCELLENT. love that the only color is the heart. very cool and epic but i don't understand why it doesn't have a reverse grip handle. or the pointy bit at the tip. but still 10/10

Void Gear: hiii vanitas :) so anyway in my totally unbiased opinion this is the best keyblade ever obviously. love the gears and red accents and it's just super cool. the eyes and chains... vanitas character development keyblade when <3 10/10

Void Gear (White?): still very cool, love the simple contrast going on. 10/10

No Name: i didn't know this one was also called no name which is kinda lame. but i love the keyblade it's very cool. super glowy and i love the time design. 9/10

Crown Unlimit: I almost really like this one. very neat design, love the crowns and twists and glow. 7/10

Master's Defender: literally so plain and boring. i don't care if that's the point give it some frills. nice design though :/ 7/10

Broken Xblade: love the broken bits and the weird rust color. wish one of the kingdom keys was more broken and i think the top bit should be broken too. 7/10

Wooden Keyblade: sobbing and crying and tears. this is literally so cute and good and i love that it looks like Ends of the earth. or the kingdom key i guess. 10/10

Treasure Trove: i never expect to like this one but it's actually pretty nice :) wish the gems looked like they were spilling from the top and not leaking from the bottom. 8/10

Stroke of Midnight: also surprisingly nice! the guard kinda looks like a pumpkin which is cute. just a very cute design. 8/10

Fairy Stars: rad as hell. absolutely love this design very appealing. like how point the stars are. 9/10

Victory Line: i hate this one. maybe bc i don't like the world. kinda ugly and the teeth look awkward. 3/10

Mark of a Hero: ok we brought the clouds back but the weirdly buff trophy arm fucks this up. the blade is also just kind of a column, nothing going on there. 4/10

Hyperdrive: super cute!! love how the blade looks like laser fire and engine streams. the teeth are weird again though, and the handle looks like a bee 8/10

Pixie Petal: SO much better than fairy harp. this one is very cute and these teeth actually fit with the rest of the design. kinda short though >:/ 7/10

Sweetstack: oh this is so cute. a bunch of ice cream scoops!! why are the teeth oranges and what are some of those flavors. why are cones on the guard soft serve. 8/10

Ultima Weapon bbs: NICE. A SWORD WITH SOME FILIGREE BUT ALL IN BLUE. LOVE the wayfinders on it, very good for them. wish it wasn't just blue since it seems so aqua-centric but it looks nice soo 10/10

Skull Noise: LITERALLY SO PERFECT. THAT'S SO TWEWY. INCREDIBLE. the headphones and mr mew keychain... wonderful. only thing is that the name is kinda weird. like it makes sense but sounds weird. 10/10

Guardian Bell: i like it more than i think i would. elegant looking, and i love the gargoyles on it. hate the sentient gargoyles tho. 8/10

Dual Disk: VERY cool! looks like it has a reverse grip. the teeth are really cool and i love the bright blue. 9/10

Ferris Gear: eh. pretty cute but i think my pinocchio bias is acting up. the gears are nice, reminds me of wishing star. 5/10

Knockout Punch: SO COOL. really love the spikiness and colors and that the guard looks like the monkey. unfortunately for it, i don't like monkey. 8/10

All for One: the design's nice and it matches the world... but eh. 5/10

Counterpoint: so fun!! the violin guard is great, and the blade looks so cool. the teeth are a little awkward looking, it goes up too much. 9/10

Divewing: RAD!. just a sword with a heart on it and i love it. just so fucking cool. and the guard looks like a wing so 10/10

Sweet Dreams: so cute :) in love with the meow wow on top, but the teeth go up too much again. and i think there should be some komory wings on it. 7/10

Ultima Weapon DDD: NICE. almost identical to the kh1 blade, but blue and BETTER. the wings above the guard and the crown coming out of dream eater sigil... brilliant. 10/10

Unbound: not a hit 💔 just kinda weird and unfinished looking? and the lime green bit is off-putting. the hear at the top is nice. 2/10

End of Pain: ok mood shift hello. looks like it should be one of terra's evil blades. at first i was thrown off but looking closer it's so cool. the wings and eye at the top... the horns above the guard... the butterfly and gazing eye (buttereye) keychain... magnificent. the blade reminds me of x2 dark knight paine's sword. 10/10

Ocean Rage: looks pretty cool at first but the monstro mouth guard is literally horrifying i don't want to look at it anymore 1/10

YMX's keyblade: apparently has no name and is different than the one in bbs. nothing new really to say since it looks pretty similar but the goat head on top is super interesting. how much did No Name (luxu) influence young xehanort... 9/10

Mirage Split: absolutely perfect. i can't think of anything that isn't positive to say. the stained glass, the heart by the teeth, the thin lines, the gradient, wings, pointy, the keychain, literally all perfect. 10/10

Nightmare's End: also utterly perfect. i don't like yellow but it works here and looks great. the cyan gradient is startling but matches MS so i love it. all the colors in the stained glass are wonderful. 10/10

Starlight+: a little guady. but i love how the stars look like comets. the twisted blade looks neat too, but what's the point of the pointy bit on top. 7/10

Treasure Trove+: love that it looks golden and gem encrusted. very rich looking, but the cart is still leaking gems. 8/10

Lady Luck+: NOW the card thing makes more sense, i love how its incorporated throughout the design. more more interesting than the original. 9/10

Three Wishes+: looks like fire?? which is way cooler but why??? i like it more but where's the agrabah. 8/10

Olympia+: CLOUDS. like that zeus is in the clouds, but they took my columns. and the cyan handles are really weird. 7/10

Divine Rose+: excellent. what it should've been all along. the iridescenty guard is suuuper pretty and all the leaves and vines are great. 10/10

Moogle o' Glory: a lot happening here but i love smacking shit with a moogle head. there's so much happening and i don't really get it. 7/10

Fairy Stars+: i didn't know it could get better, the teeth is super cool looking but i wish the twisty blade was more visible. 9/10

Sleeping Lion+: love that it turns that metallic light blue color, very pretty. and the handle looks more like the gunblade! very nice looking and i used it a lot but the top is very weird. 9/10

Counterpoint+: let's take all the fun and exciting bits from the original and crANK IT UP TO ELEVEN. wait. stop. go back it's too much. very pretty still i love colors. 8/10

Fenrir+: my car key recovered from that fight. looks wayyy cooler and looks like ff7. hate the cyan glow though it feels weird. 6/10

Darkgnaw+: took me forever to find an image bc i keep calling it dreadgnaw. much cooler than the original, it looks like it's gonna bite you. the purple is also very nice. 9/10

Missing Ache+: POINTY. super cool but how does ventus twirl it around without poking himself. the colors are fun and it looks rad. 10/10

Diamond Dust+: i used this one the most <3 very pretty i love shades of blue and purple :) looks kinda icy but the top is weirdly flat. 9/10

Bad Guy Breaker: there's so much happening calm down 😭kinda nice but there's a lot to look at. also this world irritated me. 4/10

Gula's Keyblade: #leopardus4ever. as you can see, this keyblade is perfection. fun and spiky and lightningy. i think the whole blade should be lightning tho. 10/10

Aced's Keyblade: do any of these have names. anyway what a dreadgnaw ripoff 🙄 it suits him but guess what. i don't like him. 5/10

Ira's Keyblade: i don't like ira either but his blade is fucking great. love the teeth so much, and the colors. very pretty and cool 8/10

Invi's Keyblade: absolutely gorgeous. i love the flowing lines and little vines. love the colors and also it's super long. 9/10

Ava's Keyblade: girl this hurts to look at on a white background. very pretty though, i love how wispy and cloud-like it is. looks delicate which is great considering she'll kick anyone's ass. 8/10

No Name: unfortunately, this is absolutely wicked. look at it. it's wonderful. the goat head looks so much cooler than the other animal heads somehow, and i love the hollow center of the blade. and the teeth look like a claw, a little. just so fucking cool but i hate everyone who uses this. 10/10

Shooting Star: super pretty, i love how this one flows. i wish the blade went down to wrap around the guard though, instead of cutting off. 8/10

Hero's Origin: they took away my clouds again. i like that half of it is just. zeus. the lightning bolts are cool, but the handle and guard don't really match. 6/10

Favorite Deputy: you are not my favorite deputy fuck you. i don't like toy story but i do like cactuses. 3/10

Ever After: this one's nice :) the guard is super pretty, but i wish there was more going on with the blade. 7/10

Happy Gear: this one's kinda ugly but i like it soo. the energy canister guard is cute. 7/10

Crystal Snow: i hate it so much. it's boring and the keychain is olaf and i don't like frozen. 1/10

Hunny Spout: pretty cute :) the honey jars remind me of sweetstack. i like the wooden handle. 7/10

Wheel of Fate: cool as hell that's my boat. love that the blade looks like a mast that's so cool. wish it wasn't so gray though. 8/10

Nano Gear: ah, here's the color. i like everything except how the nanobots look at the top. it's just kinda gross. 7/10

Grand Chef: oh this is so cute. but why is remy the teeth. poor rat :( but it looks very nice i like how the Tower goes into the guard 8/10

Classic Tone: fuckyoufuckyoufuc. i hate this one. pretty ugly and i don't like it. 2/10

Starlight: SO GOOD. very simple but i like that. looks mysteriously similar to the kingdom key? i love it but it needs a little more going on. 9/10

Ultima Weapon 3: LOOK AT IT. ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE THEY CAN'T MAKE A BETTER ULTIMA WEAPON. the silver and red look so good and it's spiky and cool. and the red is glittery!!! why? i don't care it's phenomenal. the spiky heart teeth. that it looks like it's moving. i wish i could break my rating scale. 10/10

Braveheart: riku kingdomhearts stole my fucking car key. we've all heard the complaints i'm not repeating them 1/10

Star Cluster: it's really nice >:( mickey switch with riku pleaase. the star theme is really cute and the colors are nice but why does it look so similar to the kingdom key. 8/10

Flame Liberator: i don't like the name but ok i guess. the keyblade is so fucking cool though. it's what bond of flame wanted to be. i love fire and it looks like it moves so hell yeah. 9/10

Xblade: still can't decide if i like this or not. How do you hold it comfortably. Love the glistening spiky bits. 8/10

#that's all of them holy shit #you are required to read this #might make another list with all of them in order if i feel insane enough #kingdom hearts #pere's bullshit #kh #keyblades

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theasstour · 4 years

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𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐄 | 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 𝟏𝟏.𝟗𝐤 𝐍𝐁: 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐤

Friday, 26 June

Y/N made her way along the gravel path and up the hill leading to Clodgy lighthouse. Her pleated blue, pink, purple floral midi skirt blew in the wind, making it almost a little uncomfortable to walk, but she pushed on. There were a few translucent clouds overhead, but they were neither big enough nor solid enough to cause Y/N any sort of distress. She looked across the flat and green landscape that stretched on for miles and miles as she adjusted her white square neck top, making sure her ruched bust looked alright before actually approaching the house. She’d seen Harry’s yellow van the second she made it up the hill, like a sweet reminder that her final destination was just a few minutes away now.

Y/N didn’t particularly like exercise. Well… she quite frankly hated it. She admired people who liked it and who would spend their entire life practising and perfecting their skills in one sport, but she never understood the appeal. Why put yourself through all that? For a few medals and temporary recognition? You’d have to retire when you were in your mid-thirties or early-forties, and what would you do then? What aggravated her to no end was how male athletes were often more sought after and given more appreciation and awareness than the women. What was so good about men? What did men have that women didn’t?

Y/N saw the white summer dress and the red and white headband bobbing up and down from the grass surrounding the small bungalow. Though it was drowned out by the wind at a distance, Y/N could just about make out Grace singing to herself as she picked wildflowers. At some point, Grace turned around to look around her for more flowers, and suddenly her eyes landed on Y/N. She squealed and ran over to her, throwing her arms around Y/N’s waist. Y/N knew this was Grace’s usual reaction upon meeting someone she knew, but she’d never get used to how much the people in this town hugged and touched each other. She put her heart shaped sunglasses at the top of her head and then held her hands awkwardly out for Grace, her heart hammering as she didn’t really know what to do. She patted her back with one hand, holding the other one to her own chest.

“Y/N!” Grace exclaimed, squeezing Y/N some before stepping away.

“Hi, is your brother here?” Y/N held onto the strap of her tote bag where Harry’s knitted jumper was.

“He’s indoors talking on the phone,” Grace said, furrowing her brows as if it was the worst thing he could possibly do.

Y/N returned the look at Grace, making the little girl giggle. “Think he’d mind me handing this back to him?”

“Well, he’s your boyfriend so…” Grace shrugged her shoulders. “Don’t think you have to ask for permission.”

Y/N felt a little panicked at that, hoping Grace didn’t find it weird that she just asked her if it was okay that she entered her supposed boyfriend’s house.

“I’ll just-“ Y/N pointed at the house and walked past Grace, but the little girl followed her back and started picking some more flowers around the house. Grace’s high-pitched singing started up again, but Y/N didn’t really mind as she knew Grace most likely only did it because she was content.

The door into the bungalow was open slightly, so Y/N opened it a little more to peer inside. However, she didn’t get much of a chance to do that before she heard voices. She stopped in her tracks, eyes on what looked to be a garment rail with different coloured jackets and jumpers. She didn’t want to peer inside in case Harry didn’t want to be interrupted, though the only reason she’d come all this way was to give him his jumper back.

“I… I heard,” Harry said, voice low and very soft as if he was choosing his words carefully. “Fatima told me.”

Y/N bit her bottom lip, fighting the urge to look inside and find Harry. It was already bad enough that she was just standing there and listening in on his conversation. Or… his half of the conversation, she’d have to fill in the blanks herself.

“Thought you said you’d never come back to St Ives,” Harry chuckled, but Y/N thought she could detect the remnants of the effect of a wound in his voice that had yet to heal properly.

The sound of it made Y/N furrow her brows a little. Something about the thought of Harry hurting didn’t sit right with her.

“You said you… You said you were done. That this didn’t feel like home anymore, so I just… guess I just assumed.” Footsteps could be heard, and Y/N took a small step away from the door. “Didn’t think you’d come back after two years.”

Another pause, and in that time, Y/N again felt the urge to creep closer, to look at Harry and his body language. Was he sad? Did he feel uncomfortable? Was he restless talking to someone he clearly hadn’t talked to in a while?

“I dunno. I have plans today, so I can’t. What about this Wednesday? July 1st?” A pause. “I’d like that, too.”

“Y/N!”

Grace’s shout made Y/N jump. Panicked footsteps were heard next and Y/N imagined Harry was stood by the window now, looking out to see if he saw Y/N on the path to the lighthouse. Heart hammering and the tips of her fingers beating with it, Y/N walked quickly away from the door and hoped Harry didn’t hear her feet on the gravel. She rounded the corner and walked a bit away as if it was going to make it less obvious she’d just been eavesdropping and about to enter his house.

“What’s up?” Y/N asked as she strolled over in Grace’s direction.

“I just want you to pick flowers with me. Look-“ She pointed around her at the colourful landscape around them. “I always pick flowers here. And Harry usually picks flowers for nanay as well, she loves them. Harry!” Grace waved and when Y/N turned around, Harry stood by the corner of his house, watching the two of them.

His phone was in his hand still, mouth open, and eyes a little wide as he just looked at Y/N, and then at Grace beside her. A slightly tight-fitted tee shirt with red, orange, white, and black stripes was tucked into the same pair of washed out denim jeans he’d wore the night before, coming up to rest just above his hip. He was wearing his black Converse again, a pair of white socks visible just over the rim of it. Upon meeting Y/N’s eyes again he dropped his phone just as he was about to talk, hastily bending down to pick it up again before walking over to them.

“Here,” Grace said as Harry came close enough, giving him one of the bouquets she was holding. “Why’d you take so long? It’s hard picking flowers with one hand.”

“Sorry, I… I had to take that, Gracie.” Harry looked at Y/N again, letting out a small breath before he clearly wanted to say something.

“Why’re you here, Y/N?” Grace asked, tilting her head a little to the side.

“Gracie,” Harry hissed, looking at his younger sister with a stern furrow to his brows.

“What?” Grace asked. “Is she coming with us?!” There was obvious elation in the little girl’s voice at that, something that warmed every single cell in Y/N’s body.

“She’s allowed to come whenever and wherever she wants.” The second after he said it, Y/N felt something against her wrist. A small pressure that remained tender and careful as it traced its way along the length of her thumb, like the amiable touch of a rose petal after dragging your hand along the harsh thorns of the flower’s stem. Suddenly, she felt his fingers in the crook of her thumb and along her index, then attentively wrapping themselves around her hand. She looked over at Harry who was already watching her, and though he held her glance for a few seconds, his eyes fell to their joined hands. His cheeks grew a familiar shade of red and he swallowed thickly before glancing at Grace again. They’d held hands before, but Y/N didn’t remember him doing it this meticulously before. She started sweating some, not used to being both uncomfortable and safe at the same time.

“Well, of course,” Grace scoffed, cocking her head to the side studied her bouquet that she hadn’t taken her eyes off of for at least a minute now. “I was just wondering if she was coming with us.”

“That’s not the reason I’m here,” Y/N explained, giving Harry a quick smile as she reached for her tote bag, removing her hand from his as her sunglasses fell off her head. She dragged his jumper out and handed it to him. “You forgot this last night.”

Harry’s mouth fell open for a second and he quickly put his bouquet in his jean pocket before he reached for his jumper. Y/N hadn’t thought he’d take her sunglasses that were in the same hand as his jumper, but that’s somehow exactly what he ended up doing. He looked at them for a few seconds, not recognising them, but the confusion on his face was replaced by a slight smile, and at that, she didn’t have the heart to tell him her mistake. Instead, she smiled back at him and rolled with it.

“They reminded me of you,” she said. Harry scrunched up his nose a little before meeting her eyes again.

“They did?”

It didn’t sound like he believed her, but she just shrugged her shoulders. After all, it hadn’t been her intention to give them to him, but here she was, and she wasn’t about to admit she’d done a mistake.

“That’s what I said.” Y/N looked down at them again.

“Alright.” There was amusement in his voice, and it made the smile on Y/N’s face broaden. “Uhm…” Harry said, standing completely still for a few seconds before jolting as if he remembered something. He reached for the bouquet in his jean pocket and gave it to her. “They… They reminded me of you.”

Mocking him, Y/N scrunched up her nose. “They did?”

Harry chuckled a little and she reached forward, her pinky just barely brushing his index before she brought the bouquet to her chest. She studied them, puckering her lips some as she tried to put a name to each of them.

“What are they?”

“Oh! Uhm…” Harry took a small step forward and pointed to each as he said the names. “Bluebells, sea pinks, and hedgerow cranesbills.”

“Are you coming to St Austell?” Grace asked, eyes big with hope.

“Oh, your birthday present, you’re going to St Austell today? For the street market?” Y/N asked, looking into her tote bag before carefully placing the small bouquet at the bottom of it.

“Yeah, are you coming?” Grace asked again, and though Y/N would love that, she wasn’t about to barge in on something that had been Harry’s birthday present to his little sister. Noticing the attention he was getting, Harry inhaled quickly as if taken off guard that his little sister wanted Y/N to come alone. He scratched at his neck, trying to hide his face a little as he looked away from the both of them.

“I mean… only if you- if you have the time. We won’t force you to if you have other plans, but we’d… we’d love to have you.” His eyes grew wide and he met Y/N’s before looking away again. “Not have you, that’s not what I meant, just meant it’d be great if you wanted to come. Unless- unless it’s bad timing, and you didn’t come here for… for that. Dunno.”

Y/N only smiled, finding Harry’s nervousness adorable still. It was probably because he didn’t know her well yet, and so acting like his comfortable normal self didn’t come naturally. She hoped it would at some point, though.

“I’d love to come,” she said, Grace squealing before she ran for the house.

“Harry, we need to put the flowers in a vase!”

Harry met Y/N’s eyes before following Grace toward the house and through the door. Assuming they would be using Harry’s car, Y/N walked in the direction of it, looking out over the sea that stretched as far as the eye could see. The wind was ever-present, and though one would think it to be harsh and violent, combined with the vision of the sea before her, it had a calming effect. Something about St Ives, the sea, and this lighthouse made her feel a version of contentment she didn’t think she ever had before.

Grace ran out of the house and to the van, skipping over to where Y/N was waiting for them. Harry locked the front door before he followed, opening the door to the backseat for Grace. The three of them all got seated in Harry’s van, lowering the windows a tad before Harry started driving down the gravel path and away from the lighthouse. The radio played softly in the background as they made their way through St Ives, Grace humming to the same tune she’d been singing along to earlier. It didn’t talk long till the little girl started speaking.

“Harry, can we listen to some of your music?”

“Go on, then.” He reached for his phone, about to hand it to the person sitting beside him, but then realising that wasn’t Grace, it was Y/N. “Can you plug it in the AUX, please?”

“Oh, sure.” Y/N took the phone, and the second she did, it lit up. A picture of four people popped up on his locked screen, Y/N recognised all of them right away. Amir had an arm around Harry’s shoulders, while Harry was grinning and looking up at Grace who was placed on Dax’s shoulders. It looked to be from some sort of Christmas Market, yellow lights hanging around them and the four of them tucked into warm clothing. Grace was beaming from ear to ear and Dax was holding onto her ankles, seemingly hooting with his eyes closed. It was such a happy photo that it took Y/N by surprise at first. She couldn’t even remember what she’d done last Christmas. She plugged it into the AUX as Harry scanned his thumb so Y/N could access his Spotify.

“Play his favourite tunes one, it’s called ‘favourite tunes’, if it wasn’t already obvious,” Grace called from behind Y/N.

Harry instantly started stuttering. “Now, we don’t have to do that. We have a roadtrip playlist-“

“-Nooo, put on his playlist, Y/N,” Grace begged, and Harry sighed heavily beside Y/N. She chuckled a little before looking down at Harry’s Spotify again, his favourites playlist at the very top. Clicking on it, she pressed the ‘shuffle’ button and the car was instantly filled with a cheery melody. Y/N was sure she’d heard it before, but couldn’t quite put her finger on when or what song it was. Grace clapped in the backseat, clearly happy about the song that had just come on. When Y/N turned around and looked at Grace, the little girl was swaying from side to side with a huge smile on her face.

“Welcome to your life, there’s no turning back!” Grace sang with everything she had. “Turn up the volume, Harry!”

Y/N glanced back at Harry and was shocked to see her red heart shaped sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose, a small smile gracing his pink lips. He turned the volume up and Grace continued to sing, though some of the lyrics were completely off from what Y/N could hear.

“Harry, sing!” Grace demanded.

“I think you can manage on your own, Gracie.”

“No!” the seven-year-old shouted. “Sing with me!”

Harry quickly looked at Y/N before he glanced away again, biting his lips together. Y/N was sure he wasn’t going to do it. Just when she thought she’d narrowed him down and started to understand him some, he came around and changed her perception of him. But Harry opening his mouth and singing just as loudly as Grace took Y/N completely off guard, to the point where she found herself laughing.

“Acting on your best behaviour, turn your back on mother nature!” Harry sang, at the sound of Y/N’s laugh, a grin widened his lips.

This made her think of the conversation she’d had with Harry and his mates the previous night, about Astronaut Lions and the fact Harry wrote songs. His voice wasn’t bad. In fact, it wasn’t bad at all. He sounded… quite good. He hit every single note and even sounded better than the actual owners of the song, at least in Y/N’s opinion. She didn’t realise she was watching him with a smile on her face till he looked in her direction, meeting her eyes.

“You know the song, Y/N?”

Something about hearing her name spoken like that made her draw a quick breath. So mundane, so curious. She was sure he hadn’t meant anything by it, just to make it clear who he was talking to, but she still felt important. Something about him knowing her name and using it to address her felt intimate in a way any term of endearment never could. Your name was your own; someone else speaking it felt profound. She felt valued.

She felt ashamed of her answer, but pretending she knew the lyrics would be too embarrassing. Her heart picked up some speed and she folded her hands in her lap. “No,” she answered truthfully, sitting back properly in her seat and looking straight ahead at the road.

“That’s fine you can just dance!” Grace said.

Y/N giggled, looking back at Grace and then at Harry as they continued to sing the song with their entire chests. The rest of the drive up to St Austell was filled with 70s and 80s tunes that Grace and Harry knew every single word to. Y/N didn’t mind, though. She loved being surrounded with such unadulterated happiness; she felt it seeping into her own pores and felt it intermingle with the blood in her veins. These two didn’t care that Y/N didn’t know the lyrics, they just liked the fact she was there with them. They just wanted her there. Didn’t care in what capacity or for what purpose, they simply enjoyed her company enough to bring her along. That fact alone had Y/N beaming from ear to ear the entire way to St Austell.

Harry struggled to find parking once they were there, so they drove a few times around town in hopes of catching a spot. While doing that, Y/N got a good look of the town they had taken a trip to. It was like any other coastal town, she thought. Charming with constant seagull screams and plenty of people walking around, either carrying an ice cream or fish and chips. Though it might be identical to every other town in Cornwall for outsiders, every Cornish person would definitely know the difference between St Austell and St Ives. Especially people native to St Ives, like Harry and Grace. Y/N might not have any proper ties to any of the towns, but she found herself favouring St Ives to St Austell.

Before long, they were on the high street in St Austell. The street market stretched along the entire length of it, booths perched on either side and the space between brimming with people. Harry and Grace walked in front and Y/N walked just behind him, it’d be easier to walk properly that way. But Grace often slowed down so she was walking beside Y/N, pointing out different booths or artists that they strolled by.

Y/N suddenly stopped by a booth that held purely vintage finds. Harry and Grace took a little look as well, finding the small antiques and glass animals incredibly fascinating. Y/N, however, stood by the vinyl collection.

“What’re you lookin’ at?” Harry asked as he walked over to Y/N, the heart shaped sunglasses now perched on top of his head. He glanced in Grace’s direction where she still stood with the glass animal figures, just making sure she was still around before directing his undivided attention to Y/N.

“Who’s your favourite artist?”

The question seemed to have come out of nowhere, because it took a few seconds for Harry to answer, “Elton John.”

“Why?” she asked, still looking through the vinyl collection.

“Uh… dunno,” he said. “Guess it’s just something about his music that I connect with in a way. And I also really admire him as a person.”

“That’s very nice. And what’s your favourite album of his?”

Harry smiled a little. “Am I being interviewed for something?”

She laughed. “No, I just want to know. They have tons of vinyls here, but I’m not really huge on music so I wouldn’t know what to look for.”

“The fact you’re not huge on music should already tell us we’re not a match,” Harry mumbled, both of them chuckling as Harry walked over to stand beside her. Y/N didn’t think that was all that true though, because she genuinely liked spending time with Harry. He was a very good friend of hers now.

Their upper arms laid flush against one another, hot skin against hot skin. Y/N hadn’t anticipated Harry to stand this close to her, hadn’t expected to feel him right there beside her like this. It was reassuring and overwhelming at the same time. Her eyes landed on his face, falling from his eyes as they took in the vinyls before them, and then to his nose. She looked away before she caught herself studying further down his face.

He looked through the vinyls for a bit, Y/N watched his hands as his fingers moved between the covers to look at the different albums. He suddenly made a soft “ah-ha” sound and brought an Elton John album out, tapping his thumb against it.

“This is my favourite album of his: Victim of Love.”

He held the Victim of Love vinyl in his hands, smiling a little to himself. He ran his thumb over the edge of it before he started bumping his hip slightly against it. Y/N just glanced at him as he studied the vinyl, smiling uncontrollably as his hips continued to nudge hers.

“Is this a game? Are you just playin’? Will I be losin’ you?” Harry sang lowly so only the two of them could hear him. “Oh, am I a victim of love, victim of love?”

Y/N glanced at the vinyl as Harry placed it back where she��d found it. “How do you know so much about music?”

“Dunno, guess I must be some type of god or summat.”

She giggled and Harry smiled.

“Boring,” Grace said as she made her way over to them. “Look! There’s a booth over there with just American sweets. Harry, can we go?”

“To the booth or to America?”

“Both.”

He bit his lips together as he placed the Elton John vinyl back where he’d found it. “Let’s settle for the booth for now, yeah?”

Grace ran in its direction and the other two followed quickly after as not to lose sight of the little one in the crowd. Multiple people were looking at the strange sweets and other accessories Britain didn’t offer, both fascinated and disgusted looks on their faces that Y/N found amusing. She loved American sweets personally, but then again, she loved right about anything that would make her gain a stone with a simple glance.

“What are these?” Grace asked, pointing to something. Harry bent down and looked with her as Y/N walked over to the scented candles. The American booth was filled with right about anything, not just sweets, and Y/N found this highly fascinating for some reason. These were just things you could get in the US but not in Europe.

“Y/N, I’m getting strawberry liquorice!” Grace grinned as Harry gave the seller a few pounds.

“Can’t you just get that from Poundland for a single pound?”

“Don’t remind her,” Harry mumbled as he walked over, Y/N sucked her lips between her teeth. He chuckled a little. “Shocked you know what Poundland is, though.”

“Oi,” Y/N said, nudging Harry with her shoulder as she picked up a candle to smell it. “I’ll have you know I used to pop by Poundland to buy a pack of Polos if I was just out and about at home. And sometimes even the Haribo Balla Stixx if I was feeling crazy.”

Harry smiled. “Would’ve never thought.”

Y/N shrugged. “You take a look at me, and you think M&S and Waitrose, but-“ She shrugged. “-I’m just like everybody else.”

They both laughed at that and Grace looked between them with slight worry in her eyes, not having found the conversation as amusing as the other two.

The three of them continued down St Austell high street, Grace humming a tune as she held onto Harry’s hand so she wouldn’t get lost in the crowd. Though the high street was filled with people, there was a peacefulness to it that eased every tense muscle in Y/N’s body. She was sure she could walk along this street with Harry and Grace for eternity, she was content right here. They walked on and stopped by a gelato parlour so Grace could go get herself an ice cream. She took some time to decide the two flavoured scoops Harry would buy her, but once she settled on strawberry and cookie dough, she ate it up so quickly she got a stomach-ache. Harry said he felt no sympathy for her, but he still carried her all the way back to the car and into the backseat. Y/N had given Grace the small bag of crisps she kept in her tote bag for emergencies like this one, and Grace was happily chewing away once Harry started driving out of St Austell.

Regardless, the seven-year-old fell asleep pretty quickly, so Harry turned the volume down in the car and proceeded to make small conversation with Y/N. They didn’t speak for long enough or loud enough to wake Grace, neither wanted her to wake up and get pissy that they hadn’t shut up so she could sleep. She did pity herself a great deal.

“Do you and Grace pick flowers a lot, then?” Y/N asked, keeping her eyes on the road ahead.

“Yeah,” Harry answered. “She loves it, especially because there’s so many different ones around the lighthouse.”

“The same ones don’t grow around the farm?”

“No, it’s not that.” Harry reached over and turned the volume down some more so he could talk more hushed. “I mean, yeah, some don’t, but it’s more the fact that you can see them all so clearly on Clodgy. There’s always the same ones each year, and it’s always a lot of fun to just walk around and pick flowers.”

“Ahh.” Y/N nodded.

“Though…” Harry trailed off as he switched lanes. “This year we noticed something strange.”

“What’s that?”

“There’s a new type of wildflower there. Not many of them, but there’s this new one that I haven’t seen before.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows some. “You don’t experience that? New ones appearing each year?”

“Sometimes, but there are mostly the same ones. Ever since Jessa started teaching me about the different types, giving names to them and such, I’ve always been able to differentiate between the different flowers.”

“But not this new one?”

“No.”

“Hmm,” Y/N hummed, looking at Harry as he concentrated on the driving. “Guess you’ll just have to get Jessa to come over and take a look.”

Harry smiled a little. “Guess so.”

Reaching St Ives again was like gulping down the first real breath of fresh air after taking a deep dive. Though they had only been gone for a couple of hours, it still felt so incredibly good to be back. Harry stopped outside the Inn and Y/N thanked him for a fantastic day, wanting to turn around and say the same to Grace, but the little girl was still sleeping. So, Y/N told Harry to tell Grace goodbye for her once she woke up. He nodded and gave her a wave, driving down the road as Y/N stood watching them until they were out of sight. Upon entering the Inn, Y/N heard voices coming from the back. She peeked her head into the back garden say a quick hello to Bessie and her ladies before she made her way upstairs to her room. As she rummaged through her tote for her keys, she noticed something at the very bottom of it.

She quickly made her way downstairs again, stealing a mug from the kitchen and filling it with water before she walked upstairs to her room. Unlocking the door, she shoved it shut with her bum once she was inside, biting her lip as she hurriedly made her way over to the desk. She put the mug in the sunlight streaming through the window, and reached into the tote bag, carefully pulling the wildflower bouquet out of it, and placing it in the mug. She stared at it for a little while before walking back downstairs for dinner.

Sunday, 28 June

A family walked by Y/N’s open window, the baby in the pram crying and the father talking angrily with the rest of the family members around him, as if that would help the situation in any way. The sun was shining straight through her windows, making her Inn room so hot it was hard to breathe properly. Both her windows were open and the door too, allowing air to circulate and calm her down as the hot weather outside seeped through the house and made a layer of sweat appear on her skin. Though she felt icky, she was thankful for the cooling sensation the wetness brought as wind blew past her. Y/N was sat by her desk in a strappy dress and her hair in a bun at the top of her head, allowing for as much of her to be cooled down as possible.

One of her two UCAT books laid on the desk in front of her, an open notebook beside it where she took notes of topics she knew she’d have to revise some more. A pink, yellow, and green highlighter laid on her desk as well, being used to highlight the parts that were important to remember. Though that was essentially the entire book, Y/N still thought it’d be useful later if she wanted to go through the book again. And that thought was what had her staring off at a point on Porthminster Beach with no particular special value. It was just the shore, where the ocean washed over the soft sand. But she was so deep in her thoughts that she didn’t know where she was looking or what she was doing.

The idea of looking through this book later had made her halt. Later. At some point in the future. Sometime again. When would that be? Would it even happen? For what purpose? She knew the reason she was reading this and why she was so invested, but she hadn’t realised she was working toward something till now. At some point she’d have to find her laptop and sign up to take the UCAT. She would have to find a date fitting for her, and she would need to work towards it. And then it was suddenly a reality. Then it was something that was actually happening. It wasn’t just a dream anymore, but something she was actually doing.

The thought made her more terrified than it ever had before. She knew what she wanted, she was also confident that she was smart enough to do well because this was a part of her own intelligence and person she had never doubted. Her talent for science had never been questioned because her parents hadn’t cared enough to even start. So, Y/N therefore concluded that it could not be that part that was making her anxious. Sure, her parents hadn’t exactly encouraged her to get those good grades for anything but show, but she had proved to herself in sixth form how intelligent she actually was. She had been told by her teachers how great she was at her A-Levels, and her results showed that as well, so her academic knowledge was no issue.

It was the reality of her situation that terrified her. The thought that once she did the UCAT and once her parents got a whiff of what was going on, they’d either try and do something to stop her or they’d never talk to her again. Y/N didn’t know which outcome she hated more.

She didn’t know how long she’d just been sat there staring off into space, it must’ve been a little while at least, because her phone vibrating against the desk made her jump. Quickly, she reached for it, for some reason expecting it to be Harry that texted her. The thought made her eager and she wanted to get back to him as quickly as possible. But it wasn’t Harry that had texted her. Reading that name was like getting a bucket of ice-cold water tipped over her head. It was freezing at first, then her heart started hammering dangerously fast, and suddenly she was hot all over.

Dom Your father knows where you are

Y/N had heard about near death experiences before. How it felt like you were transported out of your body and looking down on yourself, unable to move or live. The feeling of not feeling like your own anymore, but an entity floating above your own head; nothing and no one. She never thought she’d experience a near death experience. She never thought a few words would send her into complete shock like this.

She was thrust into her own body and back into coherent thought with such force that she jolted. She blinked a few times before her phone fell onto the book right under her hand, her hand just hanging limply in the air in front of her. Looking at it, that’s how she realised she’d started shaking. She tightened her hands into a fist and laid it on the desk. She was breathing hard and fast, her chest vibrating with the tremendous force and speed her heart was beating.

It’s not over yet, it’s not over yet, it’s not over yet, Y/N kept repeating to herself. Because it wasn’t. She refused to let this be her only taste of the life she wanted for herself. Or… was this the life she wanted? She had no idea. Ever since she was little, she had always wanted to help people. There was something about being of use to someone that brought her immense happiness, but there were multiple ways she could help people. The life her parents had planned for her was all about helping. She’d never really thought about the life she wanted, just accepted the one given to her.

Coming to St Ives and reading for the UCAT had given her new perspectives on things, however. She wasn’t sure if being in St Ives was what she wanted, but she realised that not being in Winchester and not being with her family was. She didn’t know where she’d end up or what she’d end up doing, but one thing was for certain: if her father knew where she was, she’d have to constantly look over her shoulder. She knew she’d have to face them eventually, but that would be on her terms, not theirs. In the meantime, she’d keep a low profile and hope her father didn’t have any eyes in St Ives just yet.

Wednesday, 1 July

Y/N quite liked the trek up to the lighthouse now. Not that she’d walked it too many times, but she liked walking up the slight hill and seeing the white pointy house in the distance. Contrary to the times before, she noticed a familiar figure moving about outside the lighthouse. Wearing a white tee shirt under a pair of denim dungarees that reached just above his knees, diagonal stripes of red, orange, purple, and white, along with his black Converse. As she got closer, the dungarees he was wearing looked worn, almost as if the coloured stripes had been added after purchase and the garment had been put to good use since. Y/N almost felt overdressed in her white front button maxi dress.

Harry must’ve noticed her approaching, because he stood beside the door leading into his cottage waiting, a hand on the handle and the other in the pocket of his dungarees. She gave him a big wave and a grin, something he returned with a smaller wave back, but the smile on his face matched her own. He closed the door into his house as she got closer, spinning a pair of keys around his index finger as he took a step further out into the gravel courtyard.

“Hiya,” Y/N greeted when they were close enough to hear each other.

“Hi,” Harry said. “You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just… just needed to get out of the Inn, to be fair. Been reading for the UCAT these last few days, and it’s starting to make a nutter out of me.”

A breathy chuckle left Harry’s lips, making Y/N smile.

“And I don’t really know anyone else in St Ives. Well, not well enough to just barge over and demand they spend time with me.”

“So I was your best bet?” The smile on Harry’s face was mixed amusement and slight mockery, something that had Y/N chuckling this time around.

“Maybe. Aren’t you flattered?”

“Understatement.”

She grinned, biting at her bottom lip so she wouldn’t let go of the ridiculous giggle she felt bubbling up. She nodded at the keys in his hand. “Where are you headed off to?”

“Not far.” He motioned over his shoulder with his thumb. “The lighthouse.”

“Oh.” Y/N nodded, looking at the tall building behind Harry.

“You wanna… you wanna come with?”

It genuinely surprised her that he asked. From what she’d heard, Harry didn’t let just anybody into the lighthouse. Maybe it was a rule that had been in his family for generations, to not let outsiders or strangers into the lighthouse. That was at least what Y/N had gathered from previous conversations with Florence and Camilla in Vintage Divine.

But, there was not really any question as to what Y/N wanted. Ever since he’d told her he was the lightkeeper, she’d wanted to look inside the lighthouse and see how it worked. She nodded at Harry’s proposal. “I’d love to.”

He smiled a little, eyes flickering to the gravel under their feet before he met her eyes again. “Don’t have anything better to do, ey?”

“Oi now.” She put her hands on her hips, something that made Harry laugh before he started walking backwards towards the white lighthouse. Y/N followed him, looking up at the tall tower that rose majestically before them. Harry unlocked the door and stepped aside, allowing Y/N to enter first.

“Thank you,” she said, keeping an eye on the six concrete steps she walked up before entering a lighthouse for the first time.

The first thing Y/N noticed was the red interior. The steel floors, walls, and stairs were all red. One could tell it had been standing for a few years, maybe having had some work done to it in the mid-80s, but nothing had really been done to the lighthouse since. There were a few posters on the wall, all of them old and framed as the paper had started to yellow. Different types of ships and their names under it, different types of fish and their names as well, some pictures of Clodgy lighthouse throughout the years, as well as a few posters with lighthouse lenses and other things Y/N had no idea of. There was a window straight opposite to the door, maybe ten metres off, as well as two others, that provided a generous amount daylight to make it easy to navigate around the lighthouse without turning the lights on.

Harry closed the door and locked it, putting the keys in the pocket of his dungarees as he turned to look at Y/N. He gave her a tight-lipped smile as he gestured around him with his arms spread wide.

“This is it.”

“It?” Y/N shook her head, walking up to a picture taken of the lighthouse in 1947. “I love it.”

“Well, let me show you the rest. Bottom floor is nothing impressive.”

She looked at him over her shoulder. “Quite like it down here, not gonna lie.”

He smiled, dimples showing as he looked to the floor again, scratching at his neck. “I-It’s not as impressive as the rest of the lighthouse, is all I’m saying.”

“Alright then, lead the way, mister lighthouse keeper.”

Harry strolled over to the stairs positioned to the left of the bottom floor. “This might take the breath out of you, by the way. We’re about to climb 26 metres, 86 feet.”

“Oh sugar.”

“Yeah.” Harry nodded, looking up the stairs. “You not being afraid of heights will come in handy again.”

He remembered that?

Harry didn’t give her a chance to ponder this for much longer, however, because he started up the staircase right away. The steep set of stairs led straight up to another landing, once they were here, a new set of stairs were located on the other side of the steel landing. Wind howled along the outside of the lighthouse, the eerie sounds weren’t scary when the sun was shining, and Harry was there with her. There seemed to be a station there on the first storey, a desk with an open notebook, papers taped to the wall, along with a telephone and a radio. It looked to be important, but Harry didn’t stop.

The second landing was a little different, a little smaller than the one before. There was a door leading into a room, which opened to reveal a very comfy-looking tall mattress on the floor and an old desk by a window. The rest of the room was shielded from view, but Y/N wondered why Harry didn’t just live in here. That looked like a fantastic space. Or at least the small portion of it she’d managed to get a peek at.

They continued up a number of steel stairs, and Y/N was out of breath by the time the walls were really getting closer around them. Harry climbed up a ladder and pushed open the hatch, revealing a ton of sunlight and a sort of buzzing sound. He looked behind him and down at Y/N.

“Dunno if it’s ideal to climb up here with a dress, but I’ll help you down if you want.”

Y/N shook her head. “It’s fine, I’m sure I’ll get other chances to see… what do you call it? The light?”

Harry smiled. “Lamp. This is the Bell Room.”

“Oh.” Y/N nodded. “Interesting.”

Harry only chuckled some before he walked up, returning a minute or two later. He closed the hatch and jumped down the remaining steps on the ladder, the impact making a loud sound once his Converse hit the steel.

“And down to report,” Harry said, motioning for Y/N to walk first. She didn’t know what he meant by what he’d said, but she didn’t question him. Instead, she walked down the stairs, comforted by the sound of Harry’s footsteps behind her. As they reached the second storey, Y/N heard a slight clicking sound behind her, like someone closed a door. She didn’t have to look over her shoulder to put two and two together; Harry closed the door into the room she’d seen earlier.

Upon reaching the first floor again, Harry sat down by the desk Y/N had seen earlier. He picked up a pen and wrote a few things down into the notebook, speaking under his breath as he did so as if he was remembering specific numbers and whatnot. A shelf was perched right above the desk, multiple binders, books, and important-looking documents were scattered in each of the sections. Other papers, reminders, post-it notes, and a calendar were taped to the wall, all of it holding different kinds of information that Y/N couldn’t even begin to comprehend. There was a clock perched on the wall and Harry glanced at it, and when it read 9am exactly, a static picked up, and then a voice sounded.

“Good morning, this is Trevose lighthouse reporting…” Y/N didn’t catch the rest, but Harry seemed to have, because he was completely calm, eyes now on the book before him as if checking what he’d just written down. After a monologue she understood nothing of, she could just about make out a “thank you” followed by “Clodgy,” as if indicating that it was Harry’s turn to report back. Harry now had the telephone pressed to his ear and the pen in his free hand as he went through the page.

“Good morning, Clodgy is partly cloudy, one five, calm, and rippled.” More static. “One zero scattered, scattered above two five. Zero, one, zero, zero…”

Y/N didn’t know what was going on, so she let Harry do whatever he was doing while she just looked around. She walked over to the window and glanced out at the sea beyond. Though the wind could be heard whooshing past the lighthouse, the ocean was calm. Off in the distance, she could just about make out a ship. She wondered if the light from the lighthouse could be made out in daylight and if they had used Clodgy to navigate themselves wherever they were going.

“Thank you,” Harry said, hanging up the phone as someone on the other line said: “Pendeen.”

“Good morning, Pendeen is partly cloudy…”

“What was that?” Y/N asked, hushed in case Harry wanted to hear what Pendeen lighthouse had to say. He was quiet for a second, as if listening in a bit to what was happening further south, then glanced up at Y/N.

“Weather report. Most lighthouses are automatic, but most on the west coast of Cornwall are operated by lighthouse keepers, so we report to headquarters four-five-six times a day, approximately every three hours. Depends on the weather and the season.”

Y/N nodded. “What if you can’t make a certain time?”

“Well… not ideal, I should always be able to since this is my job. But if I can’t make one time, then Pendeen is pretty close, so one can kind of count the weather as very similar.”

“How about the times when you’re out and you got other plans? Like, Grace’s birthday or any other social gathering?”

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “I make it back in time to do a report, and sometimes I go back to wherever I was earlier if I feel like it. I don’t often leave Clodgy, though.”

She smiled. “I’ve just caught you on the few occasions that you have?”

Harry smiled back. “Strategic, is what I call it. You get to experience the fun part of my life.”

“This isn’t fun?”

“Well, of course,” Harry said, placing the pen on the notebook. “I meant the social part of my life. Summer is when I leave the lighthouse most often ‘cause everyone wants to have plans when they’re not working all the time, but come autumn and I’m back to staying here alone for weeks on end.” He paused for a second. “Not entirely true, Jessa can’t stay away for long. She always comes over every Saturday to give me some food. She doesn’t think I can cook anything.”

“I’m actually a very decent cook,” Y/N admitted, tipping her chin upwards a bit with a smile. “One of my finest qualities.”

“Yeah?” Harry smiled back at her. “What’s your signature dish, then?”

She pursed her lips as she thought, clicking her tongue a few times. “I make a killer courgette lasagne.”

It took a second or two before Harry said, “Can’t wait to taste it one day.”

Y/N bit her lips together and Harry quickly realised how many different ways that could be misinterpreted. Hastily, Harry coughed and ran a hand through his hair as if to shield his face from view for a few seconds, his neck flaring red.

“Jesus Christ, I-I-I didn’t… I didn’t mean it like that. I-“ Harry stopped himself as there were some static on the radio from headquarters. His face was pink with a blush, and though Y/N found him adorable, she walked off out of his side of vision. He was there to do a job, and she was making it hard for him by making conversation. She waited till the reports were over, then waited some more as Harry wrote something down in his notebook, and then, when he finally got up, she too got up from where she’d been seated in the stairs. Harry gestured for her to walk down the set of stairs to the ground floor so he could follow her.

“So,” she started as Harry locked the door after them. “Six times a day, every three hours… when do you report?”

“3am, 6am, 9am, then I don’t have to report till 6pm,” Harry explained, putting his keys back in his pocket. “Usually, when we know the weather’s gonna be unruly or stormy, we report more than four-five times, but since it’s summer and since the weather’s very clear, we don’t report as often.”

“Ahh.”

“Around this time, I just make sure the lighthouse is in good condition. Went up to the Bell Room just now to make sure the lightbulbs work.”

Y/N furrowed her brows a little. “Would suck if they don’t.”

“Yeah,” Harry chuckled. “It’s been 25 years since they were changed last, so we need to change them out soon.”

“So,” Y/N dragged it out as Harry opened the door into his house. “How’s a regular day in the life of a lighthouse keeper, then?”

“Get up at 2:30, do a report by 3. Then do the same for 6am, and 9am. After 9am, I usually do chores around the property.”

Y/N zoned out for a few seconds as she took in the view in front of her. There was a tiny hallway, a glass door leading into the studio living space which seemed to be all-in-one. However, there was a door to the left when you entered, so Y/N assumed that must be the bathroom. But everything else seemed to be in the room before her.

At the far wall, a steel bed was placed horizontally, pressed up against the left wall. A big window took up most of the space along that wall, elegant white panes making the big windowsill seem perfect to relax in. To the right of it stood a dresser, decorated with pictures and a small vase with the flowers Grace had picked a few days ago. Along the right wall stood a piano, a big and old painting of a ship raised on the wall above it. Right by the small protruding foyer, a sofa was nestled, a tiny coffee table placed against the wall with a few newspapers and an empty coffee mug, a window placed above it, looking out over his yellow van and some of the lighthouse.

A kitchen was positioned to the left, just big enough for that one person living there, but old enough to know it had been used countless times over the last 30 years. Right beside it was a square white dining table, right under the window that overlooked the path leading up to the lighthouse, three chairs around it. Y/N guessed those were for the times Jessa and Grace made their way over.

All the walls matched the dining table and chairs, though the floor was reclaimed cherry wooden flooring, a small contrast to the walls that must’ve been repainted a year or so ago. It was old, and Y/N was sure that with some more decor, this place would probably be one of the cosiest places she’d ever been in her entire life. The windowsill would’ve been nicer with a soft cushion stretching across it and some pillows, and with some plants and green vines, maybe a straw chair and some pillows, it would be the prettiest place in all of Cornwall. But Y/N wasn’t about to tell Harry how to decorate his house, that was none of her business.

She suddenly noticed how quiet the place had gotten, so she turned around to see Harry looking at her, taking his shoes off.

“What were you saying? I zoned out a bit,” she admitted, gesturing around her as if that explained it.

Harry’s eyes went wide, and he took one big stride to enter the living space. He ran over to the coffee table and hastily put the newspapers under his arm and the coffee mug in the other. Putting the newspapers away, he placed the mug in the dishwasher before he speedily ran over to his bed and made it as fast as he could.

“I-I’m sorry. Didn’t know I’d be getting visitors,” he said, voice a little mumble as if he was truly ashamed of himself for not tidying the place up some more before she visited. He placed a knitted quilt over his white sheets and at the sight, Y/N couldn’t help her slight smile. She couldn’t wait to go knitting with Bessie and the ladies again.

“Please,” Harry said, voice a little louder as he gestured at the dining table, dragging a chair out before quickly rubbing his clammy palms over the shorts of his dungarees. “Sit. How do you take your tea?”

God, he was just so cute it was hard to act normal around him, Y/N thought as she walked over and sat down in the chair he’d just brought out for her. He started the kettle before bringing the tea out.

“Lump of sugar is fine, thank you,” she answered, crossing her legs as he found a mug for each of them. “What kind of chores do you do?”

“Hm?” Harry asked, looking over at her with his lips sucked in between his teeth and eyebrows raised.

“You said you usually do chores around the property after you report the weather,” Y/N explained. “What kind of chores?”

“Check that the lighthouse is in pristine condition. Go over to check for mould or damage, for example. I mow the lawn, clean the Bell Room, make sure no sodding seagulls have had a shite on the windows.”

Y/N giggled some, placing her hands in her lap.

“Lighthouse keepers are expected to be fairly handy,” Harry explained as he put a lump of sugar in Y/N’s glass and then one in his own, adding some milk to what would be his mug. “You’re expected to know how to use a hammer and nails, a saw, for example. You need to know how to do housework, building work, yard work, and all those other things along those lines.”

“Does Jessa make you do housework on the farm, then?”

Harry let go of a chuckle as he filled their cups, walking over and placing them on the table before opening the window they were sat by. It was fairly hot inside the house, would be even more so if they were drinking tea. But they were British, so drinking piping hot tea on a hot summer’s day without getting overly affected by it, was one of their few skills.

“Not too often, she’s amazing so she does most of the work around the farm herself. I just help sometimes when she asks, which isn’t often.”

Y/N nodded, slowly blowing on the tea before bringing it to her lips to take a sip.

“How’s…” He cleared his throat. Y/N wondered if it was a nervous tick of his, he tended to do it quite often. “How’s the UCAT reading going? You mentioned it earlier.”

Y/N couldn’t remember that she had, but she was so flattered that he remembered that she felt her cheeks heat up some. She took another sip of her tea and blamed it on the steam.

“Is it doing your head in?” he asked, sipping his mug as he brought his ankle to rest against his bare knee. His legs were so hairy. Not an odd amount, but just enough to make him a little more attractive.

“Yeah, it’s very hard to concentrate sometimes. Being stuck inside the Inn room is making me a bit mental, not gonna lie.”

“You could come here.”

The suggestion seemed to have taken both of them a bit off guard, but once Harry realised what he’d said, his shoulders sank a little, as if he wasn’t totally embarrassed he’d just blurted that out. Compared to the many times before when he said something and he’d gone all red. Friends suggested stuff like this, they offered their space and wanted their friends to feel at home. Y/N could still detect a slight worry in Harry’s eyes that she might reject his offer, but she smiled at him and gave him a little nod.

“That would be very nice,” she admitted.

“I’m rarely in the house anyway. I’m mostly in the lighthouse or out and about here, so I won’t disturb you.”

“You sure you’d be okay with me using your space like that?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, you don’t seem like the person to make a mess. Not that… I should be telling you not to make a mess, it’s a mess in here as is. I’m a mess.”

Y/N laughed and Harry joined her. The two drank their tea to light conversation. As much as Y/N loved being with Bessie and her ladies, she’d much rather spend time with Harry. The two of them just got on. It was so incredibly easy to be around him, it felt right in a way she hadn’t really experienced before. She had friends back in Hampshire and they were all lovely people, but none of them made her laugh, made her think, taught her something new, or made her feel as important as Harry had in the few weeks they’d know each other. He was quickly becoming a very good friend, so him suggesting she study for her UCAT at his place meant a little more in that sense.

Before long, Y/N was out in the fields beyond the lighthouse. They’d spent two hours inside Harry’s house just talking, so Harry hadn’t gotten any of the chores he needed to do, done. Y/N brought the book she was currently reading and laid down in the grass. She lay there reading; on her back, on her stomach, on her side, or sitting. At one point, she was just walking back and forth by the cliffs with the book in her hands, reading as she strolled. The wind was soft, and the temperature was nice considering it was the first day with partly cloudy weather. Y/N actually quite enjoyed just being outside today. And she particularly enjoyed being on Clodgy Point. It was so relaxing that she completely forgot where she was and how exposed and vulnerable she’d be if she fell asleep. But that’s exactly what happened.

She fell asleep in the grass, the open book resting against her chest, and she must’ve slept for at least an hour and some, because the sun was at a completely different angle than before. She started awake, sitting bolt upright and looking about her. Her heart was hammering as her gaze wandered over the landscape around her, frantically searching for figures in the distance.

“Oh!” Harry exclaimed, startled by her sudden movement.

She looked at him, readjusting the heart shaped sunglasses on his nose as they must’ve slid down when she startled him. Her hand came to her chest to check if her book was there, but it had obviously fallen off her when she sat upright. It laid on the grass beside her and she frantically reached for it, trying to find the page she’d stopped reading on.

“You alright?” Harry asked, voice low as if asking it too loudly would disturb her in any way.

“No, I- I mean, yes, I’m alright. I just lost the page.”

Harry watched her for a few seconds. “Bad dream?”

“Huh?”

“You… You just sat upright like that, did you have a bad dream?”

Y/N was way too busy focusing on the book to even think about the dream she’d just had. She turned page after page after page, but her mind was so far away. She wasn’t thinking about anything, yet she was thinking about everything. She was busy looking for the place she’d left off, but didn’t know what on that page would indicate it was the right one. Her head felt heavy, yet empty.

“Y/N.”

“Hm?” She finally looked up at him, eyes wide as if he’d just interrupted her.

“I… Are you okay?” Harry asked, narrowing his eyes some as he watched her, not believing her when she nodded her head and made an “Uh-huh” sound. His eyes fell to the book in her lap, her hands still as she just held a page between her index and thumb. Y/N didn’t know what made Harry ask the question in the end, but she assumed he must’ve done it because he knew that to capture her undivided attention, he’d have to talk about books. “You never told me who your favourite author is?”

Y/N met his eyes and, for the first time since she woke up, actually registered what Harry was saying. “Virginia Woolf.”

Harry smiled a little, his dimples showing. His right one was a little more prominent, Y/N realised. “So, her.” He nodded down at the book in Y/N’s lap. “What’s so good about her? Is that your favourite of hers?”

Y/N smiled a little at the questions, looking down at the book before meeting Harry’s eyes again. “Think Mrs Dalloway-“ Y/N showed Harry the cover to tell him that was the book she was reading right now. “Might be my favourite, yeah.”

“Why?”

“It’s just so-“ Y/N stopped herself, looking at Harry for a few seconds before shaking her head and chuckling some. “I won’t bore you with book talk again.”

Harry smiled. “I don’t mind.”

“You always trick me into talking for hours!”

Harry put his hands up in surrender. “And you don’t get me to open a monologue? Ask my mates, I didn’t talk this much until you came along. You’ve ruined my image.”

Y/N laughed, turning around and laying down on her stomach. “Think it might be my favourite spare time activity.”

“What, ruining my image?”

“Yeah.”

“Mine too.”

Y/N grinned up at him and Harry grinned back, laying down on his back, perching his sunglasses on top of his head as he stared over at her.

“Alright, you wanted to know why it’s my favourite, yeah?”

“Why I asked, yeah.”

“How about I read it for you, and you’ll make up your own mind.” Y/N raised her eyebrows and Harry furrowed his own. She giggled. “You don’t seem thrilled.”

“Well, I can’t say anyone’s read to me before, so I wouldn’t know how I’d like it,” he answered truthfully, but his eyes got big a second later. “Not-not that I don’t think it’s a lovely idea!”

Y/N laughed. “Harry, I know you don’t read ‘cause you don’t find it entertaining, it’s completely fine. Your flaws are your own to deal with.”

Harry barked out his hyena laugh again, hand covering his mouth for a second, but at the sight of Y/N howling at his outburst, he laughed with her and forgot all about it.

“I just asked,” Y/N said, still with a hint of laughter in her voice. “’Cause if you think it’d be a way for you to actually manage to follow a story, then I’d gladly read to you.”

Sucking his lips in between his teeth, Harry watched her for a few seconds before nodding his head, moving a little closer. “Yeah, go on then.”

She opened the first page again, focusing in on the words before her as Harry focused on her.

“’Mrs Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself. For Lucy had her work cut out for her. The doors would be taken off their hinges; Rumpelmayer’s men were coming. And then, thought Clarissa Dalloway, what a morning – fresh as if issued to children on a beach’.”

“Hmm,�� Harry hummed. “I like that.”

“What?”

“’What a morning – fresh as if issued to children on a beach’.”

Y/N smiled, looking back at the boom. “Virginia’s writing is beautiful. You can tell she took a while to write each sentence.”

Harry nodded, keeping his eyes on Y/N as she continued to read.

“’What a lark! What a plunge! For so it had always seemed to her, when, with a little squeak of the hinges, which she could hear now, she had burst open the French windows and plunged at Bourton into the open air. How fresh, how calm, still than this of course’-“

A car engine sounded in the distance, getting closer and closer.

“-‘the air was in the early morning; like the flap of a wave; the kiss of a wave; chill and sharp and yet solemn’-“

Closer and closer.

“-‘feeling as she did, standing there at the open window’-“

The gravel moved harshly as if the car was driving unusually fast. Y/N whipped her head around. The car screeched to a halt in front of Harry’s house. She forgot all about her book. It slipped from between her fingers as she turned around and sat up. Quickly, she started scooting away, keeping her eyes on the car.

“Y/N,” Harry said, looking at the Royal Mail car before glancing back at Y/N.

She didn’t seem to hear him, though.

“Y/N,” he said again, getting to his feet and following her. She didn’t stop. She kept trying to get away from the car as the postman got out, waved at Harry, and put the mail in his mailbox. “Hey,” Harry said as he reached her. “Hey, what’s going on-“

As he put a hand on her shoulder, she startled out of whatever trance she was in. His skin against hers startled her to the point of her moving away from him. Harry moved his hand away, blinking as if hurt. It wasn’t that Y/N didn’t like Harry touching her, she actually really did, she liked it when anyone touched her, but it had just taken her so completely off guard with everything storming through her brain that she couldn’t help her reaction.

Her heart was hammering, palms were clammy, and her brain had been somewhere else completely. ‘Your father knows where you are’ had been all she’d manage to think in those seconds. Nothing and no one else had mattered. She looked at Harry again, trying to regain a normal breathing pattern.

“I-I’m sorry,” Harry said, taking a step away from her.

“No.” Y/N shook her head. “You don’t have to be. I… I like… I don’t mind you touching me.”

Harry bit his bottom lip, sitting down on his knees beside her.

“I’m not used to it.”

Harry paused for a second. “People touching you?”

“Yeah, uhm…” She ran her hands over her face before she looked over at the mailman. He was back in his car, not a danger to the two of them in any way. She’d just overreacted. Just thought her Dad had made it to St Ives and was driving down the gravel road towards the lighthouse, as if he knew that was exactly where she’d be. She didn’t know why she reacted the way she did, maybe it was just too much, too soon. Everything that happened Sunday with Dominic texting her and knowing that her father had been looking for her and knew where she was, it had all come to this. Just an hour and some earlier, she’d felt so safe. She hadn’t expected to feel so content and at ease anywhere ever again. But she did there. And it had all been taken away from her.

She felt a warm pressure against her shoulder. Reassuring, supportive pressure that felt a lot like Harry’s rough hand. His thumb smoothed over her skin and she closed her eyes for a single second before she glanced in his direction. There was something about the way he looked at her that made her believe everything he said and did. There was a truth and constant to him that was unwavering; like a bright star you knew would show up in the sky every night. It might not always show, but it was there. Waiting for the right time to show itself. Every single thing this man did came from the heart. He might not do too much, might have trouble finding his words, but there was assurance and comfort in everything he chose to say and do. It somehow held more meaning than anything else ever had.

“You’re okay,” he said.

And though her heart was beating faster than it ever had, and though she hadn’t felt okay a moment ago, she believed him. She let go of a shaky breath, and at the sound of it, a worried look graced Harry’s face.

“Want to go inside?”

Y/N shook her head, gesturing at her book. “I said I’d read to you.”

“If you don’t want to be outside… that’s completely fine.”

She crawled over to her book again, her shoulder felt cold when she was out of Harry’s reach. “Let’s read.”

“Y/N.”

She stopped, looked over at him as he looked at her. Seriousness lay in every single feature of his face as well as how calculatingly slowly he moved toward her to not overwhelm her in any way. She watched him till he sat before her, staring into her eyes for a few seconds before saying a soft, “You’re okay.”

She wasn’t so sure that she was, but she forced herself to believe him enough to open the book to the first page again. Just as she was about to start reading, Harry’s phone went off with a text. He brought it out, read the text, and looked about to say something, but stopped himself as he started answering whoever texted him. Y/N watched him, biting at her bottom lip as she waited for him to be done.

“Alright?” she asked once he put his phone away.

He pointed over his shoulder, mouth opening again as if he was going to explain, but he just shook his head as he thought better of it. “Yeah, go on.”

Y/N gave him a smile before she continued to read.

NEXT UPDATE: Sunday, 13 September, 9PM GMT!

A HUGEE thank you to my amazing and beautiful beta readers! 🌊 @aileenacoustic 🌊 @bopbopstyles 🌊 @fromyourstrulyh 🌊 @harrys-creature 🌊 @summerfeelng 🌊 @watermelonsuger 🌊 @withallthelove-a 🌊

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles fic #1dff #:DDDDD #PLS DO COME CHAT ONCE YOU'VE READ ILY ILY ILYYYYY

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romeulusroy · 3 years

Text

Parting Gift (Sam Wilson Oneshot)

Character/s: Sam

Word Count: 1,411

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @myriadimagines @lilyswritings @encounterthepast @writerdream22 @brithedemonspawn @megnotfound @ladyeliot @locke-writes @thedarkqueenofavalon @fangirlsarah16 @randomfandomimagine @amirahiddleston @diana-westmoon @valkyrie-2312

A/N: This was supposed to be fluffy, but the closest I can get to that is melancholy lol. The weathers been nice and it got me feeling nostalgic for summer. I hope this gives off that vibe, if that makes sense? Sam just seemed perfect for this and I kinda love this :) It doesn't exactly fit the timeline, but oh well :P There are only Endgame spoilers, none with TFATWS. I can't thank you enough for letting me rest with my health/writing and posting in general. I hope you like it! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💖💜

Summary: You finally got him back 💌

Gif Credit: @biwilson / link 💕

FIC MASTERLISTS 1 -> 3 /WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST?

The low hum of the fan stirs in the quiet heat, restless, a lullaby you've grown used to since the season thawed. The snow puddles disappearing from the hot sidewalks, the grass growing green, the layers shedding around you until there is nothing but skin and the cool air that kisses it. It's old and shaky, the blades twisted, the fixture rattling, threatening to fall from the ceiling with every spin. Another chore you simply never got around to fixing, neglected much like the rest of the house. Like you, it was lucky it was still standing. The floors cried and creaked, needing to be replaced, but where was the time? The paint chipped, falling flake by flake, the shelves in need of dusting, the lawn grown too long, things were rusted, ruining, aging. Everything crooked, leaning, too heavy to stand on its own. One in the same, you and it, a reflection of your inner world, your inner turmoil, your grief defying, humanizing, materializing in rusted pipes, in thorny bushes, and weeds sprouting in the cracks of the sidewalks.

It was your dream. An escape. A slice of heaven he plucked from the skies. At least, that's how he'd described it. His hand, warm and calloused, over your eyes, letting your suspicions get the better of you, questioning like a child. What color was the door? How many windows? Was there a backyard? A steadiness in his voice you knew was not as solid as he showed, leading you past the street, past your new neighbors, the shade of the trees making your skin prickle. Up the path, you tried counting your own steps, anything to cheat the system. A leap of faith, you put so nicely. A house he passed by, one that struck him, caught his eye in a way nothing ever had. You? A house? Romanticized by the shoe box apartments the city had to offer, you never pictured any other life. Not out of opposition, but sheer innocence, a passive, thoughtless gesture you'd never recognized until the opportunity came along. Little convincing, it took. Somewhere far away from danger, from life, where you would always be safe together. That was enough. Always would be.

A fixer upper, that's what it was. Someone to care for in their old age, a long forgotten space only one with a heart of gold could fall for. Whether you were speaking of you, or the house, he'd never get the chance to ask. Where he saw the two of you, together, watching the rain pour from outside, comforted by a warm kitchen, a grand bedroom, nooks you could fill with hints of yourselves, you saw a slanted driveway, an unkempt garden, leaky ceilings and no hot water. He had hope. Dripped in honey,band hope, his voice sang through the thin walls, a symphony of ideas, of dreams for what it would one day be, taking you by the hand, leading you through. A maze of projects, big and small, things you'd add to a list of infinite length, your pen running out of ink long before you ever reached the bottom. For now, a coat of paint, a bucket or two for the leaks. He promised you, in the middle of an empty house, that it would one day be your home. You trusted him, because he was so sure of it, unlike anything else before.

You watched him sleep, the two of you facing one another. The sheets long discarded, too warm to even touch. You could follow the rise and fall of his back, the way in which he held the pillow to him, as if scared to let go. Tracing every line of him with your eyes, taking note of every single change, drinking him up every second you had together. The beads of sweat across his hairline. The upturn of his mouth, a whisper of a smile, as if caught in a sweet dream. The lines you see in yourself not yet reflected in him. Untouched by time. Five years could turn into a lifetime with the right kind of loneliness.

Plastic stuck to the furniture, bloated, sweaty, patiently waiting to be unwrapped. You couldn't bear to look at it, any of it, turning away from entire rooms, going only where it was necessary, using what you needed, not ready to face this place alone. It wasn't that first day, where your things, tightened by the city smog and lack of breathing room, were scattered wherever they might fit, left to expand in their new environment. The kitchen table in the living room. Chairs in the hallway. A couch discarded by the window, blocking the natural light. For the time being, he promised. Too many boxes to count, filled to the brim of glasses and mugs, wedding pictures and high school yearbooks, things you thought you needed, and things you knew you did. All of it wrapped in plastic, paper, t-shirts and towels. Whatever you could find to protect it. Sleeping on the floor those first few days, the mattress late, the frame even later, leaning on one another for that kind of comfort. It wasn't that first day, or week, but enough time to settle. The small things weren't yet opened. Two cups, to dishes, an endless waiting game for supplies to be shipped, of time to be found between work days and exhausted nights. He had a plan though, first the inside, then out. Sometimes there weren't enough plans, or lists, or schedules in the world to stop what would come next.

All of this, less than a month before The Blip.

Things hadn't changed since then, not without him. Five years you carved your path into the floorboards, avoiding everything that hurt like a landmine. His cup, his dish, his knife, and fork, and spoon, untouched. You would not look through your wedding album, or seep into the couch you bought together, or pluck the thorn riddled bushes like you pictured. His side of the bed empty, his clothes tucked away where you didn't have to see. All except one shirt taped up, turned away. His cologne fading from the collar, something out of your control, that made you want to scream. Everything these days, it seemed, was out of your control. Others, they moved on eventually. Started dating. Remarried. Found new friends, had more kids, picked up where they left off. Family reached out, teammates too, but you couldn't look at them. The anger, the sadness, all of it overwhelming. It left you drowning in questions no one had the answer to, everyone asking themselves the same thing: Why him, and not them? Why him, and not you? Why did any of this happen in the first place?

Isolating became the cure, and the corruption. The salt in the wound, a familiar sting you grew to expect, even want. A home for two, he promised, only now you were one. How cruel could the universe be? Hour by hour, day by day, you counted, carrying on for when he'd be back, because he would be. Sam, your Sam, too stubborn a man to give up like that. You would have dusted, washed the floors, made the place a little more welcoming if you'd known he'd be back when he did. Everyone came back, reappearing out of thin air, but where they felt frenzy, uncertain in explaining all that's happened, you were at peace, able to breathe again. Time had stopped when he was gone, your life paused. You could feel it, the moment when, the clocks in the house ticking once again inside their boxes.

Now, you lay together, as you had that first night. Not on the floor, not as naive as you were, but together none of the less. The sunlight strains, wanting to light up the room from behind the curtains. Even without it, you find yourself baking, wishing the fan would have a little more power. Sleeping in, you could have laughed. Five years he had, somewhere else, to rest, and yet you let him, not wanting to wake from what you fear might be a nightmare. If you woke up, and he was gone again, you weren't sure what you'd do, how much longer you could stand it. He assured you though, much like he had with this house, everything would work out in the end. That he was here, and he'd never leave you again.

Ever.

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rosereview · 3 years

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Chain of Iron Review

Like my Chain of Gold review (which you can find on my post list or here) this is going to be a hot mess of emotions and feelings with very many spoilers. If you’re wondering if you should read this book (a review without spoilers) my thoughts are go fricking read everything by Cassandra Clare and fall in love with me. Yes, I highly recommend everything that woman has touched with a pen. But besides that, let's get into this review.

Characters

James Herondale- first let's start with one of the main characters who was a big part of this novel. To be honest I don’t have much to say about him personally without getting into his relationships with others and the plot points in the book (which I will talk about later), but I guess I will talk about my love for him. I was unsure at first (before Chain of Gold) how I was going to feel about James and if he would be a typical Herondale boy and be very similar to his father or his descendant, Jace. I was worried that he would be too similar to Will and Jace that he would not stand out, but like in Chain of Gold, I was very happy with his individual character traits and personality. While he is like Will and Jace, James is also very different and his own person. He’s a typical heart throb Herondale, while still having this very reserved and responsible side to him that I love so much. His only flaw is something he can’t control, so yeah… strong character.

Cordelia Carstairs- Like last book, I LOVE Cordelia, although this book was harder to read because of what she went through. Multiple times I wanted to just give her a hug and let her cry on my shoulder. I wish she hadn’t had to go through so much trauma in this book, but I know she’ll become a better character because of it. The whole ordeal with being Lilith’s paladin hurt very much, her unrequited (not really) love for James was heartbreaking to see continuously played on (I JUST WANTED THAT DAMN GRACELET OFF), and the parts about her father also hurt. I need to read Chain of Thorns now, just to make sure that Cordelia is alright in the end.

Matthew Fairchild- talking about Matthew makes me sad because I absolutely love him as a character and I just need him to get better. I’m so happy that he opened up to Cordelia in this book, but I need him to start loving himself again. The pain I feel when reading about him trembling and drinking himself to honestly too much (especially since he’s just a fictional character). And that’s really all I want for Matthew, is for him to be okay one day.

Grace Blackthorn- this was very interesting in Chain of Iron because we got a lot of flashback scenes from Grace’s point of view and that made me not hate her as much anymore. I still am very annoyed at her, but I like that I can finally see more of her side and sympathize with her. I’m very interested to see more of her character development, especially individually without all the stuff with James obscuring my image of her.

Lucie Herondale- someone else that I found I loved much more in this book was Lucie. In the last book, from what I can remember, Lucie was a little interesting at parts (I kind of want to say annoying, although that’s a little too harsh of a word), but I loved her in this book. She had much more character development (I thought) and her personality came out more in a less hectic way. Her inner thoughts started to make more sense to me, and I loved learning more about her as not someone who is just James’s sister, or Cordelia’s future parabatai, but as her own person.

Jesse Blackthorn- Another character I loved to see more of although we mostly just saw him through Lucie’s eyes, and I also already loved him even before. He became a much more understanding and developed character in this book and I can’t wait to see more of him now that he’s alive!

Alastair Carstairs- I totally fell in love with him in this book too! Holy shit, all I wanted to do was hug him and tell him that it would all be alright. Because he is an older sibling I think I can relate to him a lot more now, especially with all this baggage that he was keeping and trying to protect Cordelia from. I found the scenes with just him in them (like when he’s thinking about the future while looking out the window in his house after his father dies and thinking about his new baby sibling that will be born) absolutely amazing and captivating. Obviously I used to hate him because of the short stories that he was in the Tales from the Shadowhunter Academy and other extra short stories, but now I need more of him and I’m internally hurting for him.

Thomas Lightwood- Another character I am hurting for and I just need him to be okay. I loved and hated the fact that he felt so hurt for James because of the killer and he wanted to unburden James by catching the killer. I was just so moved but also so angry that he was putting himself in danger that it was a very emotional time reading (like me clutching the book and shouting at Thomas to stop and go back). But I will always love Thomas and can’t wait to see more of him.

Christopher Lightwood- Last but certainly not least, is Christopher, who I am obsessed with. That one POV moment that we had from him was one of my favourites and now I need to hear from him more. I love all of his quirks and his inner thoughts are the most adorable thing but also makes me sad because he has no one but Henry to share them with and who fully understands and appreciates him for who he is. Also I still really find it wild that he’s the son of Cecily and Gabriel, who aren’t science-y people at all and who are both much more sarcastic characters, while Christopher is just so sweet and perfect. (Not saying Cecily and Gabriel aren’t perfect, but still never would have imagined them to have a kid like Christopher, but at the same time I find it so perfect that they did). Also I just love Christopher so much! I know I said that already, but I just can’t get over it. I need more of his inner thoughts and just more of HIM.

Relationships

Now we can finally talk about the characters in terms of their relationships with other characters and since I was just talking about Christopher I need to start with…

Christopher and Grace! — I loved that little moment they shared when they were in Henry’s laboratory and were bonding of the pithos. It was the best moment in the whole book and I keep thinking about it in my head. I know of the family tree from the Clockwork Princess inside cover, it says that Christopher and Grace will get married and have the Lightwood offspring, but I just hadn’t really realized that significance until now. They are so cute together and even though I have expressly said I hated Grace in the past, the way she understood Christopher and the way they could talk together, warmed my heart so much and was the most redeeming part of Grace’s character for me. I just need more moments of Grace and Christopher.

Now to the next most pressing relationship…

The James, Cordelia, Matthew love triangle!

Let's start with Cordelia and James— I love them together. Even with all the annoying shit with James and the bracelet, their relationship shone in this book and I was so happy about it. They are so perfect for each other and all of their moments together I was bursting with joy. Their chemistry, but also their solid foundation for their relationship is so well written that it’s impossible for me not to see them as together. This is their story and I’m in love with it.

Now Cordelia and Matthew— I also love them, but probably not as much. The thing is, I’m just obsessed with Matthew, so while I love the relationship just because I want Matthew to find happiness, I think James and Cordelia are better together. The problem is with Matthew is that he needs to work on himself first before he could ever hope to fully love someone else and share a life with someone else. I’m very happy for the moment though that Matthew has Cordelia at his side and that he even shared his biggest secret with her because I do think that Cordelia has the capacity to help Matthew (maybe even on this trip to Paris) but I also don’t want it to be too much for Cordelia since she already had to deal with similar issues with her dad and I don’t want it to bring up hard memories for her. But either way I just need the next book to see what happens after that VERY emotional cliffhanger. Cassie did me dirty with that one.

James and Grace— Well I hate the fricking bracelet (also side note, I absolutely love that the fandom nicknamed the bracelet, gracelet. I love that so much). But I also see why Grace felt like she had to put it on and why she couldn’t take it off, but it still makes me so mad. Especially the way she still felt she could manipulate James in the end because she had nowhere else to go. I hate that part of her, the part that her mother taught her that it’s okay to manipulate men. But I was also so happy how James went off on her at the end, it was very satisfying until Cordelia ran off, but still very happy that James got to yell at Grace like that.

Lucie and Jesse— another couple I am now fully invested and in love with. This book made me like Lucie more BECAUSE of her development with Jesse. I liked Jesse before, but this book, where we got to see lots of their development as a couple and be completely honest with each other, sealed the deal for me. I can’t wait to read more about Jesse and Lucie in the future because I am so happy for them and so in love with their love, it’s actually kind of ridiculous.

Alastair and Thomas— again, I just fell completely in love with them in this book. The scenes with them locked up together were some of my favorite scenes, but I was beyond sad when Alastair still broke it off with Thomas in the end. I needed one couple to find some sort of happy at the end of this book, but all of them ended badly! I was very mad, but I can’t wait for the next book to see them get together (because they have to get together).

Anna and Ariadne— I just love Anna so much and I want her to be happy, but in this book I also felt for Ariadne too. At first I didn’t like her because of the fact that she broke Anna’s heart, but now seeing her try so hard to make up with her… it just makes my heart break for the both of them. Also the only parts in this book that had these two in it, were scenes about their relationship, which is why I didn’t have anything to say about their individual personalities, but I would like to add that Anna is definitely one of my favourite Lightwoods and one of the best minor characters in the Shadowhunter universe.

Lucie and Cordelia— for these two I wish that we had more scenes of them as friends, but I think one of the most powerful parts of this book that made it so sad, was the fact that Cordelia and Lucie didn’t talk. The way the two girls were by themselves with their problems definitely was a huge factor of why everything went bad, and I’m very certain that if Lucie and Cordelia had talked more, things would have ended differently. So I see and understand why they weren’t able to be the parabatai pals that I wanted them to be, but I still am waiting desperately for more scenes of the two of them just being friends. Another reason I cannot wait for the last book of the series.

Grace and Jesse— because of all the flashback scenes of Grace, I was able to appreciate her relationship with her brother more. The bond that they have between brother and sister is so strong and beautiful that it’s another thing that redeems Grace as a character, and makes me sympathize a lot more with her.

The Merry Thieves— just want to say that I love them so much. I will always love them and I just need more scenes of the group of them plus Lucie, Anna, and Cordelia. That is all.

Plot

For plot details in this book, I just have a couple things to talk about, the first being: WHERE THE FUCK WAS THE REAL MAGNUS! Honestly, I know where he was, but I felt so betrayed when Lilith revealed herself to be a pretend Magnus. Every Shadowhunter book has Magnus helping to save the day, and my theory is that the reason everything went so shitty was because Magnus wasn’t there. Jem and Magnus are always needed for these Shadowhunter children who just keep getting caught up into shitty situations. He better help more in the next book (which I already know he will, since at the end of Chain of Iron he was there with Will). On that note, I also thought it was clever of Cassie to have Will and Tessa gone for the majority of the book, because I feel like if they had been there, shit wouldn’t have gotten that bad, both concerning Belial and the kids’ love lives. It wouldn’t have been believable if they had been there but all the events happened in the same way, because I’m pretty sure Will or Tessa would have given more advice to James and Lucie.

Secondly, that was some crazy business with Belial and Lilith, and also I’m so excited that Lilith is back. I think she’s such an interesting villain being Adam’s first wife and all. But also I don’t like who she’s a manipulative bitch, but I think that’s part of her charm.

Next, the gracelet. I hate it. Period. Glad it’s off.

Next plot point— all the stuff with Malcolm! Oh my goodness that was so interesting to see how Malcolm’s villain origin story started. I can’t actually believe that it was Grace that told Malcolm straight up about Annabel (I can actually believe it, I just think it ironic that she’s also a Blackthorn, and really only Blackthorns seem to have messed up Malcolm’s life). I’m very interested to see more of what he does with Jesse and Lucie now that Jesse is alive and Malcolm knows more about Lucie’s powers.

Lastly, I wanted to touch on the extra short story from the first editions of Chain of Iron, with Magnus and Jem. I think that it was an important scene concerning the future Eldest Curses novel, The Black Volume of the Dead, and maybe even the Wicked Powers series. It just made me even more excited for the future Shadowhunters books and I can’t wait to see what’s in store for us moving forward!

And that’s all I have to talk about. Thank you if you read to the end and were able to sift through my thoughts. This is totally unedited, so sorry for stupid mistakes and such.

Until next time!

~Rose Reviews

#cassandraclare #shadowhunters #chain of iron spoilers #chain of iron #the last hours #james herondale #cordelia carstairs #matthew fairchild #lucie herondale #jesse blackthorn #grace blackthorn #alastair carstairs #thomas lightwood #christopher lightwood #anna lightwood #ariadne bridgestock #chain of iron review

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