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@hookedradge
Hey guys, I’m sure it’s pretty obvious by now, but this blog is not terribly active anymore. Harry is now a part of my (low activity) Disney multi-muse over @dreamsmagicwishes You’re all more than welcome to go find him, there, but bear in mind that I really still don’t get on that blog much!
Thank you all so much!!
i know you chose me and i should be over the moon and i am i’m in the stars but the problem is that i forgot in space you can’t breathe i forgot that with the sun lighting me up you’ll see all my flaws i forgot that if you get close to me you’ll realize how little i’ve got that i’m just a mess and bad with love and worse with other people that i’m alive only by the grace of god and barely living anyway and that you are too good for me and i know it i know it like yeah i should be living in the moment but what happens when you find out that you gave me your heart but i don’t know how to hold it
SENTENCE MEME ⟶ PRODIGAL SON / 1.01 always feel free to tweak the sentence to fit your muse.
“I want you to remember something, okay?”
“I love you. I will always love you.”
“We’re the same.”
“The killer feels safe when he hears it.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Why did you kill all those people?”
“They call you a monster.”
“There’s no such things as monsters.”
“No one’s born broken. Someone breaks us.”
“Don’t you get it twisted. I just saved your life.”
“Even if it’s not an official rule, it’s definitely unspoken.”
“You ignored protocol, intimidated everyone who said no to you, and pissed everyone off.”
“We’re afraid you might suffer from certain psychotic inclinations.”
“You ran into that slaughterhouse with zero regard for your own safety.”
“He’s a predatory sociopath.”
“Next time you call someone crazy, ask for their gun first.”
“What if psychopathy is not a disease, what if it’s a kind of genius?”
“It’s so much fun to talk shop.”
“I’m intrigued by the criminal mind.”
“We talk about murder the way most people talk about sports.”
“You’re my only connection to the world out there.”
“So, you’re saying I should take a break from murder?”
“You got that spooked puppy dog look going on.”
“A reporter lying? Wow, I can’t believe it.”
“If she has a murder important enough to cover, I’ve got a murder important enough to track down your crazy ass.”
“You’re not gonna like each other.”
“Do you always associate intercourse with violence?”
“Right now, you’re the only thing I’m associating with violence.”
“I imagine the crime from the killer’s point of view.”
“Inducing paralysis is a thousand times harder than knocking someone out.”
“I didn’t want to wake up any old demons.”
“My demons don’t sleep.”
“Look, I can only imagine what you must be feeling.”
“I will no longer be dragging our family’s sterling name through the mud.”
“At least I have the decency to drink through our family’s ruin and not hide from it.”
“It is lovely to see you, but I have things to do.”
‘Chamomile should help, and if it doesn’t, I have pills.”
“I have some quaaludes, stashed from the 80s.”
“I would rather not share those unless it’s really an emergency or a very good cocktail party.”
“I’m afraid pills alone will not fix what’s wrong with us.”
“How I’ve missed our talks.”
“I’m gonna chop off your hand.”
“Reattachment surgery’s come a long way.”
“He wants to inflict as much pain as humanly possible.”
“I thought you said you were done with this murder business?”
“He would love all of this, you trying to solve his murders.”
“He is a cancer, he’ll destroy you.”
“The median nerve travels from the brachial plexus all the way down through to the fingertips, and that’s how we feel touch.”
“Night terrors, they’re not fun.”
“On the bright side, they’re ruining my life.”
“I got it under control.”
“Under control? You chopped off a man’s hand.”
“You are anything but in control.”
“This is an outrage. There can be multiple outrages.”
“You’re sounding a bit judgy.”
“Patients tell you things nobody else knows.”
“Helping the police goes against everything I stand for.”
“You know I love you, man, but this is a bridge too far.”
“You should take out your gun.”
“He’s going to kill you.”
“He saved a lot of lives that night, including mine.”
“I know he’s a little different, but trust me.”
“Watching you in action, it was exhilarating.”
“I realized something.”
“I can help you.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“There’s so much I can teach you about murder.”
“I don’t want to lose you again.”
hookedradge:
He knows he pushes shit. He’d always ridden that fine line between too much and not enough affection to keep up their appearances: a power couple with no real attachments. Contradictory, but necessary. He didn’t want to give people any room to question her, and if she suddenly decided to play favorites with her first mate when she had an entire Isle to save, things could get dicey. It would create the illusion of softness, which Uma would never let anyone see - except for him - and a ruthless pirate captain and revolutionary couldn’t afford to be soft. It was a death sentence for either of them.
And he never wanted to get Uma hurt.
It was just so damn hard to let go of her sometimes.
He was drawn back to reality by the sound of her voice, pulled from his disappointment, but not quickly enough to tell her not to worry about it before she was gone. So, he waited, patiently, continuing to poke at his nose and fidget with the hem of his ratty shirt and generally trying to focus on anything else besides the worry that had been in her eyes, and the anger that had burned in her voice. All for his sake. What a mess he was, and what an even bigger mess he made. He hated it, but his wretched self would rather keep things that way. He supposed some part of him feared that if he suddenly started taking better care of himself, he might lose some of the attention she afforded him. Harry had always been selfish in that way, even outside of Uma. Before her, he’d spent years causing trouble for his father, too, before things finally became too much and Harry had all but abandoned the Hooks’ run down shack on the outskirts of his captain’s territory. Trading one victim for another. Just as villains do.
The sudden sight of a makeshift ice pack being thrust at him was enough to startle him, earning a tiny jolt of muscles and a weary sigh. His smile, though broad, was humorless. “Yer too good t’ me, lass,” he whispered, accepting the pack and tenderly pressing it to his face. “Quit goin’ t’ so much trouble. Ah’ll heal.”
try as hard as she might, she cannot prevent herself from playing favourites. because he is her favourite. her favourite gang member. her favourite shipmate. her favourite partner (in crime). her favourite. there’s nothing about to change that and the longer they spend together, the more obvious it gets. and there’s no way that all the crew don’t know it (but that’s okay because they’d never spill it). and there’s no way half the docks don’t know it. and maybe it gets less obvious the further out you are from the places they frequent, from the places they can be seen together. but you can be damn sure people they’ve never even heard of know it. because nothing stays a secret in a place like this.
and because they’re useless at keeping it hidden. barely even trying.
because she’s standing at his knees, holding him an ice pack with a tenderness in her gaze that no-one else ever gets to see. it doesn’t tame the ferocity or the anger. it doesn’t quell the endless storm. but it’s there, one tiny spark of light in an abyss as dark as the bottom of the deepest ocean. but it is and always has been an angler-fish. one step closer to that light and she’ll bare her teeth and swallow him whole. or anyone else that dares get close enough to look.
as he speaks, the tenderness disappears from her eyes, replaced instead by indignation and irritation. “ what was that? ” she demanded, head tilting just a little to one side, eyes narrowed in his direction. “ because it sounded like you tryin’ to tell me what i should be doin’. ” and that is unacceptable. and maybe it’s only unacceptable because she doesn’t like hearing what he has to say. she doesn’t want to be told to stop looking after him. so she presses her tongue between her teeth, makes a face to indicate her displeasure.
“ what’s my name? ”
The tone she used made him flinch, lips pursed and hands dropping to his lap. He bit the inside of his cheek, shame coloring his face as she corrected him, chastising him in a way only she could. Making him feel guilty in a way only she could. She had him so thoroughly wrapped around her finger that he wasn’t even sure when he began or ended, anymore. Especially if it didn’t involve her.
When she asked him that familiar, domineering question - hardly even a question, anymore, because he knew her name perhaps better than his own - he chanced looking up at her, the ice pack resting in one hand as he reached out with the other. His touch is soft as he took her hand. Her fingers were thin and not-quite-delicate in his own. He drew her hand up, softly pressing his lips to her knuckles. “Uma,” he whispered, reverently, speaking volumes of apology and respect at the same time. “Ah’m sorry,” he told her, anyway.
hookedradge:
@seadivine asked “ i’m fine, i’ve had worse. ”
Meme
“Mehbe,” he teased, examining the black eye and bruised temple with severe scrutiny. “Bu’ tha’ doesnae mean tha’ this ‘s okay.”
He told her not to. He told her that vengeance wasn’t important enough to go and put herself at risk. Especially not for his sake. Never for his sake. Because one Harry Hook could never even be worth a thousand Umas. For no reason. Ever. Not worth it. How dare she even entertain the idea that he could be worth that…
Still, he brushed off his discomfort, trying for a shaky smile as he brushed back thick columns of braids. His touch is sweet. Reassuring. But he can’t tell which of them that reassurance is for. “How is it ah get a busted face an’ ah look a mess, but ye get one, an’ you’re bonnie as ev’r?”
her shoulders are tense and her head is throbbing as he takes his sweet time examining the bruise that’s blooming along the side of her head and the similar one around her eye.
she’d made her point, though. one thrown rock and one wayward elbow aside. she’d put the fear of god into those men. not god, one very specific demi-goddess. her. no god was going to do jack shit out here, but she was. as always. and powers or not, nickname or not, she could fight like a tiger and she would make damn sure she won by any means necessary. they’d think twice before badmouthing her or setting upon harry again.
his fingers brush her hair away from her face, his smile is shaky, not quite right. is he…worried? obviously. but more than worried. is he scared? of her getting into a ‘wee’ fight? he’s still quick to point out how pretty she looks and she has to swallow her heart as it leaps into her throat and she scoffs in his direction. “ because i don’t have a broken nose, ” she pointed out. “ and i’m just that good. ”
Harry can’t help his responding grin, which quirked one corner of his mouth and making his eyes glisten with life. He admired his captain’s confidence in everything that she did, even sitting wounded before her first mate. She still kept her head high and her shoulders back, every bit the goddess she was. It made him proud to be her first mate, and just a little bit jealous of how easy it seemed for her. But really, he was just glad that she was alright. He didn’t doubt her capabilities, even if she couldn’t quite tap into the magic and knowledge her mother carried, but there was certainly no denying the danger she had put herself in.
He decided he would have to be more careful in the future, if for no other reason than to keep Uma from sticking her neck out for his sake.
“Tha’ ye are, cap’n,” he added, though perhaps unnecessarily, because he’s frustratingly distracted by the way her dark eyes met his, speaking volumes of things neither of them dared to vocalize. Like the way his compliment had truly pleased her, his captain knowing full well that it was truth in his eyes. Slowly, softly, his thumb traced an easy line along her cheekbone, again and again well past the point of familiarizing that gentle slope. “Tha’ ye are,” he whispered again.
@shefaeries asked " turn the pain into power "
Meme
He snorts, grin bright as he regards Mal with a look telling her that she should know better. He's aware. An Isle kid couldn't survive without adopting that philosophy in some way. There was plenty of pain, and always a need for strength. Hope was generally pointless, so they had to take their power in something else. It was tiring work, picking through each piece of tragedy and trauma. Funneling it into anger and strength and drive, when there was nothing else to do but crumble underneath that awful weight. But it was still so draining.
"As if ah dinnae do tha' awready," he quipped, expression slipping into something considerable more bitter. "Bu' why should we have t' do tha'?"
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back to you by selena gomez
if something happened to you because i couldn’t protect you — i’d lose my F U C K I N G mind — !!!
I am made of bullets;
s h r a p n e l
You are solar flares
&& soft lips
better creatures could love you, I know. But, now, they’ll have to get through [ m e ]
@wandheir asked “ you are not your father. ”
Meme
Harry choked, the air caught in his throat bearing down on his insides like a vice. It crushed any word he could speak before he could even think it. It smothered his resolve and crippled his fierce persona. It made the tiny stilt he clung to wither into nothingness, until all that was left was for him to fall. He crumpled, eyes watering against his will, expression settled into a grimace as he weakly fought off the coming wave of emotion. It was a tide that had been threatening to sweep him away for years, and he had never dared let it because he never felt safe.
It was a testament to his trust in Jane, the way he barely managed to ease to his knees before completely giving in to everything that was eating at him, flayed open by words he didn’t even know he needed to hear, assuaged of a fear that had always lived in some dark corner of his troubled mind. He hunched forward, arms around himself, dropping his head to hide his shame as tears fell hot and fast down his cheeks.
“Ye dinnae ken,” he whimpered, fingers tight around his biceps as if that might hold him together. “Ah’ve hur’ people, lass. Killed ‘em. Gutted ‘em in cold blood an’ ah didnae care. Ah walked all ov’r ‘em. Made ‘em scared. Ah...” He hated it. And he hated that even now, his father kept his mouth shut, trapping Harry under the threat of a shining hook.
