gracetopher-week

[gracetopher-week]

Lay my Curses Out to Rest: Chapter 1

Read on ao3

Notes: Finished it just in time for the last day of gracetopher week! This isn’t canon compliant at all, and I have no idea how vampires work

—

When Christopher woke up after he died, he was thirsty. It was unlike any kind of thirst he had known in his life prior, and he knew he had to sate it as soon as possible.

He groaned as he pushed himself into an upright position and off the bed, nearly falling over when he did. The world spun under his feet and grayed at the edges, and he took a moment to steady himself against the bedside table, squeezing his eyes shut.

When he had recovered, Christopher stepped towards the door, crossing in front of the window as he did so. As soon as the first ray of sunshine hit his skin, he yelped in pain and slinked back into the shadows of the small room. He held up his hand to see the blisters that had blossomed on the portion of skin that had been exposed to the light.

What in the angel’s name had happened to him?

Well, logically, he could put the pieces together in his mind, but what he failed to figure out was how such a thing had happened. And, quite honestly, he didn’t know what to do now.

Normally, one in his position was to turn to another of his kind for help. But, since all the downworlders were frozen in place—all but him, notably— that course of action was impossible.

A silent brother could help him, Christopher thought, before he remembered that they were all in Idris, and surely he couldn’t go there anymore.

So he did the only thing he could do: he waited until nightfall, hoping nobody would see him lurking around in the institute, and as soon as the sun dipped behind the horizon, Christopher snuck out and rushed to the lab at his aunt Charlotte’s house.

He arrived in record time, and he was halfway down the cobblestone stairs when he heard a soft voice echo off of the walls, unmistakable to his keen ears.

“…and I only wish I could have told you—that I care about you, Christopher. And I did not think that kind of feeling to be real. I thought it was a conceit of novels and plays, that one could… could want the happiness of another beyond even their own, beyond anything else. I wish I had understood it more when you were… when you were still alive.”

It was the kind of thing that normally would have made his heart seize, and it made him acutely aware that his heart wasn’t beating at all. He wasn’t breathing, either. How had he not realized until now?

“So if you are here,” said Grace, breaking him from his thoughts, “please. I’m so close, with the fire-messages. I’ve gone beyond where you were, but I haven’t found the solution yet. I need your help. The world needs your help. Please.”

He rushed down the remaining stairs and closed the distance between them, lightly putting a hand on her shoulder. “Grace,” he said, wincing at how hoarse his voice was.

He heard her breath catch as she turned around, her eyes wide as she stared at him. “Christopher? How are you—“

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, offering her what he hoped to be a comforting grin. “You invented ever-burning Valium, Grace! Well done!”

She nodded, but her delicate features were twisted in some sort of unpleasant emotion that Christopher couldn’t quite place. She was staring at his mouth, he realized, and he became painstakingly aware of the sharp fangs that had protruded from his teeth.

He closed his mouth at once, but her gaze never faltered from him. “A vampire,” she muttered. “How curious.”

Christopher forced himself to turn away from her and towards the desk. “So. The fire messages.”

Grace cleared her throat, seemingly broken from her reverie. “Yes. Do you have any ideas?”

“Do you?”

“Well, you’re the scientist, aren’t you?”

“And you think that you aren’t?” He made a sweeping gesture in the direction of all of the scattered papers. “Look at what you’ve accomplished, Grace. You have gotten so much farther than I ever could. You only need to believe that you can solve it. And you can. You are a natural scientist, and a solver of puzzles. All you have to do is silence the voice in your head that says you aren’t good enough, that you don’t know enough.”

While he spoke, Grace had begun to rummage through the notes, carefully examining each page as if trying to find the missing piece of the puzzle in her hands. She stopped abruptly, turning to Christopher with a new light in her eyes. “It’s not the runes. It’s not the chemicals, either. It’s the steles.”

“It makes sense. As they are now, the steles themselves are unable to perform the task we need.”

“But if we added a communication rune, they could.”

Christopher grinned. “See? I knew you could do it.”

But his smile faded as a new wave of nausea crashed over him, his vision blurring as he struggled to maintain his balance. He reached out for something, anything, and Grace caught him, leading him to a chair.

“How long has it been since you woke up?” She asked, her eyebrows furrowed in something akin to concern.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Six hours, perhaps?”

“Have you had any… er…. sustenance?”

“No. I’m still trying to figure out what to do, in that department.” He didn’t tell her how desperately he needed something to ease the constant burning in his throat, how he had grown physically weaker with every passing minute that he denied himself, how his head felt as though it had been pumped full of helium.

She must have known, somehow, because she wordlessly offered him her wrist, giving him a slight nod. An invitation.

And as much as every part of his body wanted him to jump at the opportunity while he had the chance, he forced himself to take a step away from her, shaking his head. He wouldn’t let himself take advantage of her like that, he told himself, no matter how desperate he was. He wouldn’t hurt her.

“Grace, no, I couldn’t possibly—“

“Well, you’ll die if you don’t, and I won’t let that happen. Not after I just got you back.”

Christopher knew that he should have protested again, but he also knew that she was right. He was becoming weaker and more lightheaded by the moment, and here she was, offering him the cure to all of his ailments. Who was he to deny her?

“You can take as much as you need,” she said, and that was the only invitation Christopher needed.

As gently as he could, he took hold of her arm and lifted the pale skin of her forearm to his mouth, sinking his teeth into her flesh and drinking.

He faintly registered a light cry of pain as the relief washed over his body. He pushed himself away from her as soon as his nausea subsided, unwilling to take more than the absolute bare minimum. He averted his gave from her, unwilling to look her in the eye. “I’m sorry,” he said.

She shrugged, moving past him to grab a handkerchief. She pressed it to the new found to stop the bleeding “It’s fine. It barely even hurt. Vampire saliva acts as an anesthetic, remember?”

“I’m still drinking your blood. Which, might I add, is a whole issue in and of itself. I should be dead. Logistically speaking, I shouldn’t even be a vampire, and yet somehow, I am. I don’t understand it. I never went through a fledgling phase, I was never buried, but still, for all intents and purposes, I’ve become a vampire.”

“Maybe it was the poison that triggered the transformation.”

“But that wouldn’t have made me a fully-fledged vampire. It just doesn’t make sense.”

“It doesn’t need to. Not everything has an answer, you know.”

“That’s because no one has found one, yet.

“Then we’ll find one,” said Grace. “Look, I understand your curiosity, and your need to have all the answers, and it’s admirable, but right now, the sun is about to rise. You probably ought to go, so you’re not trapped here until sunset.”

“Well, I don’t exactly have anywhere to go.”

“What about the Hell Ruelle? At least until all the downworlders aren’t frozen anymore, you can stay there undetected.” She paused. “Wait, how aren’t you frozen? If you’re a vampire now—“

“I don’t know,” Christopher said. “I don’t— I don’t know much of anything, anymore.” He stopped, forcing a smile onto his face. “But, hey, at least we got the fire messages issue solved, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Have a good night, Grace. Or, er, a good morning.”

“You should come back tonight,” said Grace. “So that we can finish the fire-messages, I mean.”

Christopher smiled. “I’ll see you then.”

—

Taglist: @ohcoolnice @my-archerboy @livingformyself @the-enchanted-dreamer @nezhcs @sapphic-in @thomaslightwood @vashs-posts @obsessedwithbooksandmusic @thrxughthenxght

(Please reach out to me to be added or removed!)

#gracetopher week #christopher lightwood lives #christopher lightwood #grace blackthorn #grace cartwright #gracetopher #the last hours #chain of thorns #chain of iron #chain of gold

[gracetopher-week]

Hello everyone and thank you for your participation and support of Gracetopher Week! We had an excellent "Canon What Canon?" last day.

We're super happy we got so much participation this year. We take late submissions until the end of the month. Thank you and happy Gracetopher week!

#gracetopher week #christopher lightwood #grace blackthorn #gracetopher #the last hours #tlh #tsc #grace cartwright #grace x christopher #chain of gold #christopher x grace #christopher lightwood lives #gracetopher week 2023 #chain of iron #chain of thorns #the last hours series #tlh series

[gracetopher-week]

"but"

for "to heck with canon" day, aka day seven of @gracetopher-week. a poem.

i sat at your bedside and held your hand and it was cold

but—

you squeezed my fingers anyway, even in your sleep

but—

your mother asked after your health, when she stopped by

she did not try to separate us

but—

your sibling looks like she wants to.

oh wait—

i went into alicante and had someone cut my hair today. how new i looked, with my hair brushing my eyebrows and the tops of my ears and the nape of my neck, shining like silver under a soft-focus lens. i feel so light.

i know you will not tell me i should not have done it. i know you do not feel you need to have any say in what i look like. i still worry and wonder what you'll think. i can't outgrow the habit.

will you brush the strands from my eyes, when they grow too long?

but—

the silent brothers say it will be about three weeks more before you're healed enough to wake up

i hope that you love me

but—

until you wake, you can't tell me whether or not you do

#gracetopher #grace blackthorn #christopher lightwood #gracetopher week #christopher lightwood lives #gracetopher week 2023

[gracetopher-week]

You said to give you requests so here I am!

"Are we flirting?" "That's up to you." For gracetopher??

Lock & Key

Prompt: "Are we flirting?" "That's up to you."

Words: 1568

Thank you so much for this Bella!! I really like how this turned out and it's just in time for gracetopher week day 7 🤗 Thank you!

Also I haven't read CoT at all so forgive me if this isn't canon compliant. I did my best to be semi-canon. Let me know if you'd like to be on my taglist!

If Christopher wasn’t with his family or his friends he was with Grace. They were walking outside or reading in the library, but most of the time they were in Christopher’s lab, Grace preferring his home to the Fairchild household. Christopher missed the supplies Henry had but he had decent enough items in his lab, and he preferred Grace comfortable. Grace was often tense around other people, even if he tried to assure her all was well. She was quick to jump and fidget and twice she had been the first to exit a room if something startled her, always ready to exit. Now, in the light of the candles on the walls, he noticed the change in her edge.

Her shoulders were relaxed as she measured, and her knees were bent in front of her, her feet resting on the highest run of the stool she sat on. She lacked a corset so could slouch, when usually she was rigid like a log. Her hair was tied upon her head, a few bright strands falling from the hastily done updo. She wore the smallest pair of goggles he could find, and they framed her icy eyes, letting the light illuminate the iris'. Her lips were pressed in a hard line, a slight squint to her features in the thinning of her eyes and wrinkles of her nose. She was deep in thought with that face, and Christopher was both shocked and mortified when she suddenly looked up.

She raised an eyebrow at his staring, and he turned away. "Apol-apologies," he murmured softly, trying to focus on his notes. "You were very focused."

The goggles made a soft noise when the leather scraped the wood. She walked over to him, peering over his arm at the notes. "You're allowed to look at me," she said. "You're not the type to hurt a woman because you find her attractive."

"I wouldn't- I, um-" he sputtered for a moment, tripping over words as he did his own feet when he stepped backwards. He fell on all fours, his rear hitting the stone floor and a grunt flying from his mouth, cutting off his scramble for a response. They stared at each other for a few long moments, then Grace quickly turned away and covered her mouth. Christopher shot up, dusting himself off in the few steps it took him to get over to her. His hand hovered over her shoulder. "Did I startle you? I'm sorry-" Her shoulders started to shake gently and when she looked up he saw the crinkle by her eyes, but no tears. He furrowed his brow. "Are you... Are you laughing or crying? Because I'm not quite sure."

She let her hand fall, and a wide grin was on her face as she laughed gently. He started to lower his hand, relieved he hadn't upset her. He knew she was sensitive to sudden things, whether it be words or movements or memories. He smiled when her laugh got louder, and simply stood and watched her attempt to compose herself. "You fell," she giggled. "Am I truly that frightening?"

He crossed his arms and tried to further straighten his spine. "Grace Blackthorn, you are terrifying."

She smiled. "I'm just a woman."

"And a brilliant one at that."

She shifted to lean on the desk, smiling softer now, but it was close to something mischievous. "Am I not seductive enough for you?"

"That is not a part of your danger."

"No?"

"No. Some people can be seduced. Everyone can be outsmarted."

She smiled. "Well, then I guess we're very dangerous people."

"Indeed." For a moment it was silent, and Christopher cleared his throat. He shifted and broke his stance, looking down before meeting her soft, thunderous eyes. "Is this flirting?"

She shrugged and crossed her arms, tilting her head at him. More of her hair fell to the side. "It could be."

"Are we flirting?"

"That's up to you."

He stood still, trying to understand what she wanted him to do. It occurred to him that many times she had stated she trusted him, but he didn't want to break that trust. Grace was also a person he could spend him time with that involved his primary joys and interests. He loved his friends but he felt best alone with Grace in his lab, their lab. He wanted Grace to be... something, anything. Not to be his but to be theirs. He wanted everything to be theirs. His heart, her strength, his intelligence, her brilliance. He wanted them to be something beyond a friendship but he'd simply never had that before and it was frightening for him. All of Grace's experiences with such things were part of the reason she did not believe in herself or other people, and that scared Christopher most of all. He couldn't bear to be another man on the list of those who wanted her only to hurt her in some way.

"I think-" he snapped his mouth shut, correcting himself. He said he "thought" things far too often when he did in fact know things. "I would like us to be flirting."

She grinned. "So would I."

He lifted his hands gently, as though she could hand him answers. It would be much simpler that way. "What happens now?"

"Well," she said softly, pushing herself off the desk and walking to him until their chests were barely an inch apart. "I would be alright if you wanted to kiss me. Or... touch me, I suppose."

He shook his head. "You want me to do something?"

"Do you not want to?"

"I am frightened to."

She nodded, but her smile was never gone, just a little flicker of light to guide his lips to hers. It was gentle, just a small peck on each other's lips, but it was enough to make Christopher's face warm. She drew back by falling off her toes to her heels and opened her eyes. He blinked for a moment, then started to pull at his sleeve.

"Kiss me again?" She nodded, and he saw a light pink pulling at the snowy complexion of her face.

With another push to her toes she connected their lips again, but this time it was longer. His heart thumped, and another part of his anatomy wanted to join in but he wouldn't allow anything to ruin this; This rush of emotion and immense joy he felt now that he knew Grace wanted him in what was hopefully a similar sort of affection. He could only trust his brain and Grace at the moment, and when his brain slowed that trust fell to solely Grace, but he was quick to trust her to lead him wherever his heart desired. Sometimes it seemed she knew him better than he did. He had seen Matthew kiss girls before, had seen James kiss Cordelia, but he didn't want to do anything James might have done and he didn't fully trust Matthew to be his romantic guide. Instead of wrapping his arms around her he simply rested his hands on her arms, pulling her gently to him and leaning his head down so she didn't have to reach for his lips. Their chests pressed together, and she wrapped her arms around his forearms in return, much like a lock and key clicking into place.

They drew away from each other, and Grace relaxed against him, placing her head on his chest. He stiffened, but took a deep breath when she placed a hand over his heart. "Are you alright?"

She asked, turning her head and looking up at him. He frowned. "Me? I'm fine. Are you?"

She smiled gently. "More than fine, Christopher. I'm very happy."

His smile was quick and light, and he put a gentle kiss to her head, making sure to lean slowly in the event she wasn't happy with the action."I'm glad. I am not one for romance, but," he shook his head, "I have never met someone so wonderful."

She ran her other hand along his arm in soothing lines. "And I have never wanted to love someone so much."

"You could love me?"

"Anyone could love you."

He adjusted his glasses. "I'm not quite sure."

She shook her head. "I know it."

"Then love me."

She laughed gently. "It's not so simple."

"Do you understand love, then?"

"Not in the slightest. Though," she glanced down at the hand that ran the length of his arm. "I'm sure it's like an equation. You need multiple components and some time, then everything will fall into place."

He smiled. "That sounds quite nice."

"Then maybe we should work on it," she looked back up, her gaze so gentle he wanted to hold her closer. "Together."

Together was all it would take, just like many of their experiments. They could go through everything step by step, hand in hand, double checking and erasing their mistakes to make it right. They would figure out how to love, how to be together, as one. That seemed the perfect thing to him, two parts of a whole. One mind and one heart split into two people. That was how they could love, in small pieces they would eventually pick up and fit back together. It was as simple as a lock and a key, with the same hidden depths and perfect unison.

He nodded. "Together."

#gracetopher fanfiction #gracetopher week #gracetopher week 2023 #gracetopher #grace x christopher #christopher x grace #grace blackthorn #grace lightwood #grace cartwright #christopher lightwood #kit lightwood #the last hours series #the last hours fanfiction #the last hours fanfic #the last hours #chain of gold #chain of iron #chain of thorns #coi #cot #tlh fandom #tlh fanfiction #tlh #tsc #the shadowhunter chronicles #cog #christopher lightwood lives

[gracetopher-week]

so I made a gracetopher playlist except I misread today's prompt and the lore features a very much dead Christopher haha anyway there you go

this has been a fun week!

#gracetopher week #gracetopher playlist #tlh #the last hours #grace blackthorn #christopher lightwood #gracetopher week 2023

[gracetopher-week]

Gracetopher week, Day 7: F*ck canon day

So, I imagine Kit and Grace in canon as leaving London because, if we imagine a version of ChoT where actions have consequences, the rest of Kit’s friends wouldn’t accept their relationship easily.

(Same with Alastair and Thomas. It's not a critique to Alastair himself, but to the double standard the characters have. I find it wild to have to explain this, but apparently it's necessary).

They would go to live a quiet life in Scotland, and they would open a lab together. Probably they would specialize in different fields, but without ignoring their Shadowhunters duties. They would be in contact mostly with Christopher's family and have a good relationship with them.

#grace blackthorn #christopher lightwood #gracetopher #gracetopher week #christopher lightwood lives #gracetopher week 2023

[gracetopher-week]

Gracetopher Week Day 4 (and 3ish)

I've never really written for TSC or TLH, but after how strongly Chain of Thorns hit me, when I heard there was a Gracetopher week going on I couldn't really resist doing something for it. I kinda wrote this in a rush over the past few days - apologies for any errors! It's also a kind of dual submission for yesterday's prompts and today's. Partially because I didn't have it done yesterday (whoops!).

Anyway! Hope you enjoy. 😊

<><><>

When all is said and done, Christopher comes back to them.

After Belial disappeared into the heavens in a swirl of bright light, after Lilith was cast out, there was a moment of stillness in the abbey, and outside. It felt as though time was suspended, being held in place. Grace didn’t understand it, until she heard an ethereal voice in her head. Like the Silent Brothers, but… different.

What do you desire?

Afterwards, when trying to describe this moment to others, no one was really able to articulate how they understood what was happening. Only that they knew, deep down, they were being granted a very special, nearly impossible gift. It seemed the only ones truly aware of this phenomenon were their core group, scattered though they were.

Grace only had one thought. And she was certain she wasn’t the only one to think it; Anna, Thomas, James, they all recounted their own experience in a hushed sort of voice that spoke of hardly daring to hope. No one said what they’d wished for, but it was clear nevertheless.

Christopher.

The moment came to an end. The sky returned to normal, the sounds of the city and the aftermath of a battle returned. The doors to Westminster Abbey were thrown open, and the members of the Clave rushed in with a distressed clamor.

Grace exchanged dazed looks with Lucie. Jesse came over and touched her shoulder; there was a moment where he hesitated, and Grace didn’t know what to make of it.

They were swiftly bundled up by parents and aunts and uncles and brought back to the Institute. James especially was transported with care, Cordelia’s hand firmly clasped in his and Matthew trailing resolutely behind. It made Grace’s chest twinge.

Now, back in a packed Institute, Grace stands alone. Some of her friends – can she really call them friends, she wonders? Now that they are no longer bound by a bigger fight? – like Ari and Lucie take some steps toward her, but they’re intercepted by adults eager to check on them and ask a million questions. Jesse is in a cluster with Thomas, Alastair, and Thomas’ parents. Grace knows Gideon and Sophie are Jesse’s family. Technically, they should be hers too, but she has a feeling they won’t see it that way. And truthfully, the Blackthorn name hasn’t hung right on her for a long time now.

Feeling out of place and uncomfortable, Grace slips away. She has no idea where she’ll go now; with James’ parents back and likely to learn the truth of what she did to him, they probably won’t want her to stay at the Institute. Jesse might attempt to vouch for her, but she couldn’t say she was especially confident in that these days, no matter how well they worked together while London was under Belial’s control.

Until she’s kicked out, though, she has a room she can escape to. The raucous bustle of everyone downstairs gets quieter with each step she takes, though there’s a moment when the volume seems to pitch even higher, Shadowhunters yelling and crying out. It catches her, makes her freeze in place until she realizes they are sounds of joy rather than fear or pain. It truly is over this time, it seems.

Grace shuts her door firmly behind herself and leans back against it. There’s an emptiness in her chest that, while she’s always felt its existence, is sharper now. More prominent. She supposes it doesn’t take a genius to see why.

The war is over. Good prevailed over evil, and now the rebuilding can begin. But while others might see hope in the future, Grace still sees shadows that have yet to solidify into anything real. Her mother – as much of a mother as Tatiana was – is gone. She has no other family save Jesse, and he’s already made more headway in building a proper life for himself than she has. She’s barely had any training, most of the Enclave hates her, and the one true friend she seemed to gain, the one person who practically offered her a future, is dead.

A sob bubbles up in Grace’s chest at the thought of Christopher. She presses her shaking hand to her mouth, trying and failing to suppress it.

“Ave atque vale, Christopher,” she whispers to herself. She barely knows the Shadowhunter traditions, but she knows that much. And she knows he was robbed of the chance to be properly mourned, what with everything else that had been going on. He deserved so much more than he had been given.

Sometime later, after Grace moved to her bed, a knock on the door makes her sit up. She expects it’s Jesse, come to check on her and possibly offer some food. He’d been very vigilant at getting her to eat when she was working on the fire messages, and that habit likely isn’t going to go away.

She stands on unsteady feet and crosses to the door. When she opens it, though, she’s met with lavender eyes instead of green.

Christopher offers her a bright, crooked grin. “Hullo, Grace.”

Grace thinks that if she hadn’t grown up in a literal house of nightmares, she might scream. Because while Christopher isn’t a nightmare – could never be that – it isn’t right for him to be standing there before her. And she checks – he is standing, and not floating like a ghost. He looks as solid as ever, as solid as Grace herself.

(She checks that too, glancing at her hands and down at her torn, stained dress.)

“You’re -” she says, and stops. Her eyes are filling with tears, and her breaths come in rapid pants. It seems her body has caught up with what her mind cannot process, not yet.

Christopher seems unbothered by her inability to speak, though somewhat alarmed by the sudden appearance of tears. “I know it’s a shock,” he says. “I think I gave everyone the worst fright downstairs when I walked in. Anna held me so tight she might’ve bruised my ribs, and Tom nearly fainted. I know that I went away for a while, but I must say, I didn’t really expect that kind of reception upon my –”

Grace cuts him off by throwing her arms around him and pressing her face to his neck. Christopher sputters a moment in surprise before quieting and pulling her close, arms snug around her waist.

“I’m sorry,” he says, softly. “Jesse warned me that you might be startled by my appearance, but – I wanted to see you.”

Grace only hugs him tighter. A thousand emotions are racing through her right now: Disbelief, joy, grief. It is hard to reconcile the memory of his death, still so fresh, with him standing before her, once again flesh and blood.

“Are,” Christopher tentatively says. “Are you going to say anything?”

Grace takes a deep breath and pulls back only enough to properly look at him. At his spectacles, already sitting crooked on his nose, and his surprisingly delicate features.

“I missed you more than I can say,” she confesses.

Christopher smiles then, and Grace thinks she’s never seen anything quite so beautiful.

“I missed you too,” he says. “I think. It’s hard to say what happened after – well.”

Grace knows this isn’t the end of it all. Regardless of how he is now, Christopher died, and that can’t be easy for someone to come to terms with. Even now, with a sweet smile on his face, she senses some unease within him.

But that’s when Grace makes a vow to herself. As long as he wants her around, she silently vows to help him get through whatever demons he now faces (this includes the literal ones, she decides; Jesse can start her training again). He won’t have to face anything alone.

“Christopher?”

He hasn’t let go of her yet, and vice versa. She won’t be the first to pull away, propriety be damned.

“Yes, Grace?”

“If I offered my services to your lab, as a partner of sorts, what would you say?”

For a moment, that unease fades in Christopher as he lights up, his eyes shining with happiness.

“I’d say that’s a capital idea, Grace.”

#gracetopher week #gracetopher #tlh #christopher lightwood #grace blackthorn #gracetopher week 2023

[gracetopher-week]

on the promenade

i thought, for day 4 of @gracetopher-week, since it's au day and i'm posting snippets of "things currently sitting in drafting" i'd share part of the first chapter of "reunion," which is an absolutely bonkers star trek au idea i've had and maybe somebody can help me figure out why kit still has glasses while a starship engineer in the 24th century because I just cannot picture him without them.

— — —

"So what happened to you?" Grace asked. "The first time we met you were on your way to a career in the science division and now I'm the science officer and you're an engineer."

"I am . . . singularly unsuited to away missions."

Grace laughed. "That sounds about right. Do you still build fireworks in your spare time?"

"I do. I have to work in special laboratory conditions, and I'm not allowed to set them off unless we get leave down on a planet, but I find I don't particularly mind, so long as I still get to make them."

"I remember the ones you set off at the Academy. We nearly both got expelled."

"To be fair, I was drunk."

"We were both way drunker than we should have been."

"That is true. And what about you? What have you done since I last saw you?"

Grace opened her mouth to speak, and was cut off by Christopher's communicator beeping. He tapped on it. "Hello?"

"It's Thomas. Have you seen Grace? I haven't found her yet."

Grace and Christopher looked at each other. Christopher said, "She's right here. We're standing across from the Klingon restaurant."

"That sounds wonderful. Well, not the Klingon restaurant, but that you've met Grace. I'll meet you there." The communicator crackled as Thomas hung up.

"I assume you've read the Sherwood's crew files then?"

Grace nodded. "Didn't we all assume James would be the one to make Captain first?"

Christopher shrugged. "I don't know what happened."

"Well, whatever happened," said Thomas, "I couldn't ask for a better first officer. Or better scientists."

Grace raised a sharp eyebrow. "I doubt James will agree."

"Well," said Thomas, "I didn't ask you two to be friends if you don't want to be. I only need you to be civil with each other. We should head back up to the ship. Kit, since you two already know each other, why don't you be the one to give her a tour of the ship?"

"Of course. Permission to show her the holodeck?"

Thomas shrugged. "I don't see why you need to ask me."

#gracetopher #grace blackthorn #christopher lightwood #gracetopher week #gracetopher week 2023

[gracetopher-week]

Gracetopher week 2023, Day 5: Edit

So, I'm totally unable to use graphic programs, but I gave it a try with Canva and I'm not too grossed out by the result, so I will share it.

Since I'm a self-referential person, the edits are about Endless Sunlight.

#gracetopher fanfiction #grace blackthorn #christopher lightwood #gracetopher #gracetopher week #gracetopher week 2023

[gracetopher-week]

completely missed day 4 of gracetopher week bc I watched heartstopper season 2 and got overwhelmed BUT I have 2 edits for day 5 to make up for it

#gracetopher week #grace blackthorn #christopher lightwood #gracetopher edit #gracetopher aesthetics #tlh #the last hours #tlh aesthetics #tlh edits #gracetopher week 2023

[gracetopher-week]

still out there running

for day three of @gracetopher-week, which is fic day. a snippet from something upcoming. it's very short, everyone-rating . . . you'll see what's going on as we go.

— — —

Grace waited politely in the shop for Christopher to return. He did so with a couple of small vials and the slip of paper she'd given him.

"Thank you," Grace said.

"I heard rumors," Christopher said, "that you might be here but I wasn't sure if I was hearing correctly. What brought you back?"

A funeral. "I got a post, teaching at the Academy."

"Oh. Teaching what?"

"Chemistry and alchemy. We have quite the extensive laboratory but, apparently thanks to you, certain chemicals are forbidden. I've had to get them elsewhere."

"I see." Christopher pushed his glasses further up his nose. "I suppose," he said, "that I should apologize."

"What for?"

"Any part I had in driving you out of London."

Grace nodded. "The fight we had hurt," she said, "but it was a disagreement between scientists, something I could forgive easily enough. I didn't choose to leave because of anything to do with you. If anything, you were the one person who could have convinced me to stay." She stepped backward from the counter. "That being said, I haven't seen you in fifteen years. I am not saying I want nothing to do with you but a lot of time has passed and a lot of things have changed. I'm not sure we know each other anymore."

"Would you . . . would you like to change that?"

"I don't know," Grace said. "I really don't know. I'll need time." I hope so. I want to know you again. But I'm not sure I know who I am.

— — —

so I was just . . . honestly too lazy and too busy to write something wholly new for today or tomorrow of gracetopher week so I decided to pull a snippet from one of the things that I've got in drafting but that I don't have enough material or clear trajectory for to publish yet (plus I am up to my ears with rivers & gates pt. iv and it's driving me nuts). this is that thing. it's an excerpt from still out there running, which takes place abt. 15 years post-chot in a world where christopher survives. as you can see, much has changed.

#gracetopher #christopher lightwood #grace blackthorn #gracetopher week #gracetopher week 2023

[gracetopher-week]

Gracetopher week 2023, Day 4: AU

I've had this idea while I was doing my annual rewatch on the 4th of May (and some of you already understood where I'm going with it) and I thought about this plot that I'm too lazy to write, so if you want feel free to take it and write it yourself :D

It's a Star Wars AU where Grace is a former Sith who left the order because at some point she understood that her master, Tatiana, was crazy and abusive and she never really liked that life, so she left and threw away the red lightsaber. She starts travelling alone in the galaxy until she meets Christopher, who travels solo to pursue his research about life and technology in other planets. They start travelling together both because Grace is interested in his research and both because she is worried that he may be attacked by bounty hunters/criminals/Siths. So they bond over their travel and their research until Grace opens up and tells him about her past, Kit doesn't judge her and tells her that it's never too late to change the course of her life, and that she could use her skills with the Force and the lightsaber to serve the Light. He reveals that he has some contruction diagrams for the lightsabers (I hadn't thought about how, but I like the idea that Anna is a Jedi and somehow she could pass him the classified information because I'm a softie for the Lightwood siblings supporting each other--maybe Kit could also let slip that Anna isn't a very devoted Jedi because she has a relationship with another Jedi, Ari) and proposes to build Grace a new one. She's hesitant at first, then she accepts and when he's building it, he asks her which colour she wants her Kyber crystal (the one that gives the colour of the lightsaber, for the ones who are not as crazy as me about this saga). Grace looks at him in the eye and says "Violet".

Congratulations if you went through all my delirium, I hope someone pitches this because I have no intention of writing it myself ;)

#grace blackthorn #christopher lightwood #gracetopher #gracetopher week #gracetopher week 2023

[gracetopher-week]

A little snippet from my upcoming vampire!gracetopher au for day 4 of gracetopher week!!

—

He sighed, running an errant hand through his hair. “I exist in completely unprecedented conditions, now, and I didn’t think that knowing of my existence would have helped them focus on what truly mattered.”

“But don’t you think they ought to know, now that it’s all over?” Grace paused, taking another step towards him. “Don’t you think you should at least tell your family that you’re alive, or, er… not dead? Don’t you think they deserve to know?”

“I’d rather they think me dead than think me a monster,” Christopher snapped, and he immediately regretted his words when he saw how Grace reacted.

For a long moment, she only stared back at him blankly, her eyes wide. “Why would they ever think you a monster?”

He gently took her arm, turned it over so that she could see the puncture wounds on her wrist where he had sunk his fangs into her skin time and time again. “Because of this,” he said. “Grace, it seems that all I can ever do is hurt you, and I’m sick of it. I’m sick of living in secret, of needing to hurt you to sustain my own life. Don’t tell me that I’m not a monster, because I am. And honestly, I wish that Tatiana’s stupid poison had worked. I’d rather be dead than have to live like this.”

Grace blanched. “Don’t say something like that, Kit. Take it back. Tell me— tell me you don’t mean it.”

#gracetopher week #christopher lightwood lives #the last hours #christopher lightwood #grace blackthorn #gracetopher #grace cartwright #chain of gold #chain of thorns #chain of iron #gracetopher week 2023

[gracetopher-week]

Gracetopher week 2023, day 3: Fic day

So, as already anticipated, the first half of Endless Sunlight, Chapter 1. I remind you that I had to cut it short because there are elements that could cost me the ban, but obviously on Ao3 you will find the whole chapter uncensored.

Arc I: Captive

Chapter 1

Grace put her backpack down and cautiously got close to the window. In the moonlight she could see that the road was clear.

She finally conceded herself the luxury of relaxing. 

Grace didn’t know exactly how much time had passed since she arrived in Thule, but she had a very good idea. She’d counted all the times she got her courses, and it was up to thirty-nine.

Which meant she'd spent about three years in that Raziel-forsaken dimension.

A part of her was proud: she survived Christopher's minions–and the man himself–for three years, while he apparently expected to kill her off easily.

Another part was just exhausted: living three years on the run, always scared that Christopher’s servants may find her was just draining, both physically and mentally. 

Grace could feel that this life changed more than she was ready to admit. 

Back in the Institute of her own dimension, when she used to train with Sophie or Cecily, she knew that neither woman meant any harm, and that the worst that could come out of those sessions was going back home with her muscle aching and bruises on her porcelain skin.

Instead, the wrong move when fighting the men and women hunting her meant certain death. 

Also, back in her world, Grace had only fought the Watchers and demons. Killing them hadn’t been too hard–mentally, speaking at least. But since she arrived in this world, she'd had to kill at least fifteen people.

Grace could only sleep the night repeating herself that it was her or them.

She took another look out of the window, guided by the paranoia she’d developed by the chase started by that wicked version of Christopher, and thankfully no one was there yet. She grabbed her backpack and emptied it. 

Three steles, seven throwing knives, a dagger, a few empty vials and some material she scavenged in the last few days, without counting the ones she used to set up traps downstairs. Grace started mixing the compounds in the vials and she saw the solutions changing color. 

She had explosives to survive this night, if someone came looking for her.

The bigger problem was that she'd finished her food the night before and she couldn’t find anything all day. Now it was too risky leaving her shelter, so she would just ignore her hunger until she found something else. 

She took a flask that she stole about four months ago from a mundane house and she drank a sip of whiskey. The cold wasn’t so unbearable anymore. 

It had become a kind of tradition, since the day she found the flask was about her twenty-second birthday, and she cheered with herself raising it and conceding herself a long sip of alcohol.

(Actually she didn’t know how precise her count was, and as far as Grace knew, it could have been well past three weeks after her birthday).

Whiskey was good against the cold, which turned out to be good since that winter the temperature seemed to go even lower than the other years Grace spent in Thule. She never risked drinking too much, since it had happened that Christopher's servant had found her improvised shelters during the night, and the last thing she wanted was being unable to fight back because she was too drunk. 

Grace took a deep breath. 

Unfortunately, her informations were still limited. She had to keep herself alive, so finding out why Christopher had turned out to be that monster wasn’t on her priority list.

But she could say with relative certainty that Christopher was the only Shadowhunter in London. Mundanes referred to him as the Shadowhunter, and when Grace went to the Institute to retrieve some weapon supply, about six months after her arrival in Thule, she found it eerily deserted, the only noise the echo of her steps.

She’d never had too much time to think about it, but she hoped they were in Idris. The alternative was so disturbing that she refused to even think about it.

Grace chased the thoughts away and lied down onto the floor, covering herself with the windbreaker she had when she arrived in Thule–that now was ruined and torn. She would sleep for three hours, then she would draw an Energy rune and she would run again to find another abandoned house or to seek refuge at some mundane's place.

Grace closed her eyes and was about to fall asleep–

A noise.

She bolted up. 

They found her already. Grace cursed silently as she drew runes of Speed, Swiftness and Strength on her arm. At the last moment, she decided to add a Balance rune at her ankles as the first scream reached her.

Someone fell for her trap. Grace grabbed the explosives and got herself ready. As the door was opened, she threw it. The mundane yelled in pain as the explosion got him in flames.

She understood it would be over soon because there were too many. This time, their master wanted to be sure to kill her. Grace threw more explosives, they all avoided them and at some point she was reached by his voice.

“Give up, you can’t run now.”

A shiver of terror went down her spine. 

Christopher came into the room, more imposing than he’d ever been as a teenager. His beautiful violet eyes were filled with hatred and dark amusement, his mouth bent in a wicked grin. 

Grace would have never thought about describing Christopher as terrifying, but the man in front of her couldn't have been defined in any other way. 

He was holding his sword, several shades darker than normal steel, and pointed it her at her throat.

#gracetopher fanfiction #grace blackthorn #christopher lightwood #gracetopher #gracetopher week #gracetopher week 2023

[gracetopher-week]

unable to write so I'm sharing this (very) short fic by @bytheangell for day 3 of gracetopher week

just them in their little bubble oblivious to the world and working seamlessly together. Kit's pov.

#gracetopher week #tsc fic recs #tlh fic recs #grace blackthorn #christopher lightwood #gracetopher week 2023

[gracetopher-week]

Night-blooming Jasmine

@gracetopher-week

Day 3, Fic Day

Rated R, still unfinished, set in the The Last Flowers universe after Chrisanthemum

The point is, Grace doesn’t actually know how to have sex.

Giving her history, she should. She really should. But she’s never been an active participant: in the past, with her... clients―she has to stop calling them that―she just... lay there, closed her eyes, and thought of England. Occasionally, which meant nine times out of ten, she also suffered like a dog.

Nothing more.

By now, though, she’s come to understand that her firsthand knowledge of sex has nothing to do with how sex is usually experienced; even less, with how sex should be experienced. She was too young, for starters, which is something Cecily, and Cordelia, and Anna, and everyone worth their salt never seem to stop blabbering about; moreover, she’s been sold, trafficked, stripped of her every right. She’s never had a choice.

And, maybe most importantly, she’s never truly wanted it.

Well, not until this moment, at least.

She wants it. She does, she really does, she’s ready to swear it on the Angel if need be.

She’s just not sure what she wants, exactly.

Which is why they’ve ended up here. She and Kit, that is. Sprawled on the bed in her room at the Institute, laying on their sides, kissing.

The kissing is... good. Nice. They’ve done it before, of course; as a matter of fact, they’ve never done more than that. It’s been a couple of months since Kit kissed her for the first time, and that was a good ten days after her trial, when she’d been cleared of all involvement with the whole Belial-and-Tatiana-related mess and could finally start making her peace with it―start making her amends to those she’d hurt, either willingly or not.

Kit liking her, kissing her, opening his heart up to her, hasn’t been much of a surprise.

Everything that’s happened since...

Yeah.

She should stop overthinking it. She should just do what Kit told her to, last week, and get this over with already.

Problem is, that’s a thing she has no idea how to do. To tell the truth, it’s the very reason why they’re on this bed and Kit’s hand is slowly, so slowly, making its way between her legs.

Listen...

She tried, alright?

If anything, she knows what it’s supposed to feel like. It isn’t as though she’s never come before: statistically speaking, it just had to happen, sooner or later. Mere physical stimulation can, and sometimes will, be enough. And some of her cl―abusers prided themselves on being able to bring their women to orgasm, and had a penchant for rubbing her like they were hacking at a particularly persistent stain on their fancy church clothes.

So, she has experienced climax.

And she’s never failed to hate herself for it.

She’s perfectly aware that that’s the problem. And, as she’s told Kit half an hour ago, the only solution is for him to―quite literally, as it turns out―take the matter into his own hands.

She knows he’s an overthinker, just like her. She knows there’s a fat chance neither of them is going to get anything out of this. But she’s used to yielding control, she’s done it all her life, and she isn’t―yet―able to function in any other way.

The silver lining is that Kit has already had her remove her undergarments, which is a step further than where she’s taken this when she made her failed attempt. She’s still got her dress on: he doesn’t want her to be naked in front of him, not when it could be uncomfortable for her. Besides, with the fire having wilted down to embers hours ago, the room is chilly.

The goosebumps starting to show on her skin have nothing to do with the chill.

Kit’s lips are a kiss away from hers. His eyes are half-closed, as though he’s squinting to be able to look at her. (He doesn’t have his glasses on; she removed them as soon as he came into her room. But he’s near-sighted, so his vision should be good).

He’s staring at his hand on her inner thigh, she realizes. She’s willing to bet he’s as tense as she is over what they are about to do. What he is about to do.

“Kit,” she whispers, not even knowing why she spoke in the first place. Maybe it’s because she wants to reassure him. Or maybe it’s because she wants to reassure herself.

“Grace,” Kit echoes, the tips of his fingers drawing circles on her skin, his free arm sliding underneath the pillow on which both their heads are resting. “What do you want me to do to you?”

She lets out another, “Kit,” and it’s halfway between a scoff and a plea. “If I knew that, I would have succeeded in doing this myself.”

They make eye contact. Kit’s pupils are dilated, the violet of his irises reduced to little more than a ring around ever-growing black. He wets his lips, opens his mouth, inhales... and stays silent.

He’s at a loss for words.

Her third, “Kit,” is barely a breath. Soft. Acknowledging his worry, his unease, his feeling of being inadequate. “Whatever you do, I’m going to like it.”

She wants to eat her words the very second they leave her mouth. It was the wrong thing to say.

And indeed, a shadow falling on his handsome, boyish face, Kit replies, “How can you be so sure?”

“Kit.” She can’t get enough of saying his name, tonight. It grounds her, reminds her of who she’s with. “I chose this. I chose you.”

The title, Night-blooming Jasmine, refers to a work of the same name by Italian poet Giovanni Pascoli, which you can find here in the original Italian and a pretty good English translation. Pascoli wrote it for the wedding of a good friend of his, and it's obvious from the text that the poet thinks of sex as something violent, not gentle, something that crushes the petals of the flower ("si chiudono i petali un poco gualciti").

My co-author @zoyalannister learned to hate this poem in school (it's taught, at the very least, during the last year of high school), but I think it's a perfect metaphor for Grace's past and her journey in The Last Flowers.

Come check out the series if you hate yourself and want to suffer!

#gracetopher week #gracetopher #grace blackthorn #christopher lightwood #gracetopher week 2023

[gracetopher-week]

Headcanons for day 2 of Gracetopher week

they both fell so hard but. Grace fell first

they're the cool aunt and uncle and everybody's kids are always hanging out at their place

they like to be the first ones to test each other's inventions, the way Grace was the first one to send a fire message. So many of their projects come with the mention "invented by x and put to first use by y"

they're big on parallel play

they get very protective of each other when members of the enclave are being intolerant towards Grace or judgmental about Christopher, both of which happen a lot despite the success and usefulness of their inventions bc people are pricks

#gracetopher week #gracetopher #grace blackthorn #christopher lightwood