beautiful snippets
He doesn’t have to say it, because silence speaks louder than words. His distance feels like blame dressed as restraint. He loves me, I think he does, but maybe love can coexist with resentment. Maybe love can choke on memory.
Organization for Transformative Works • Link
Chapter 1, I miss you I’m sorry (Can we turn back time?) by rielstell4
"—I'm happy, Hermione," he murmured, reaching up to wrap a curl around his finger. "As lovely as it is to spend my day snogging you, it's not as if I'm only here for the good parts. I'm glad you called me."
Organization for Transformative Works • archiveofourown.org | 520: Web server is returning an unknown error
Chapter 20, Wanderlust by mrsren
This overwhelming Mind listened to every cry or song in the world at once. She watched the souls spiral up in all their terrible complex beauty with the delight of a gardener inhaling the scent of Her flowers.
Chapter 27, The Curse of Chalion by Lois McMaster Bujold
To win again, Daniel will give them that, and more. He will turn against his macaw-like eagerness to speak and glue his mouth shut; he will put his head down and work until even the engineers will have nothing to accuse him of.
He will destroy his driving style, destroy his laughter, and destroy his urge to speak and improve the car on his own... See more
He will destroy his driving style, destroy his laughter, and destroy his urge to speak and improve the car on his own... See more
Organization for Transformative Works • archiveofourown.org | 520: Web server is returning an unknown error
Chapter 8, Icarus by EirianErisdar
“I don’t know how to open my mouth and push out the universe in words. It won’t fit. If I had all the words in all the languages in the world that ever were or will be, and spoke till the end of time, it still couldn’t…” He was shivering, suddenly, his eyes blurred with tears.
Chapter 28, The Curse of Chalion by Lois McMaster Bujold
To be eaten and to be married to the god might not be so different.
Chapter 7, Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis
Poems require this daily input of incomplete knowledge, as if you were sewing time into the fabric of your work. The poetic mind has an unusual tolerance for living in this painful gap between the ideal and the botched reproduction. Far from being wimps, poets simply spend more time than the rest of the population in this hazardous landscape.
Dark Gifts by Gwyneth Lewis in Poets on Prozac
we do not leave sorrow behind as if it were luggage at the curb. we learn how to carry it without dropping everything else. some days the bag feels light and you forget it is on your shoulder. some days the strap bites into your skin and you cannot remember what it felt like to walk unburdened. both days are part of the same life.
the taboo we don’t talk about: death and grief
the taboo we don’t talk about: death and grief by Ayushi Thakkar
Seb shifts, presses a kiss to the top of Daniel’s head. “I am angry,” he says, deceptively light. “But not with you.”
“You should be,” Daniel mumbles. “I deserve it. How – how do you know you can even trust me–”
“Maybe I should be,” Seb acknowledges. “But, well. I’ve never been one to choose easy flock.”
“You should be,” Daniel mumbles. “I deserve it. How – how do you know you can even trust me–”
“Maybe I should be,” Seb acknowledges. “But, well. I’ve never been one to choose easy flock.”
Organization for Transformative Works • archiveofourown.org | 520: Web server is returning an unknown error
Chapter 22, Icarus by EirianErisdar