#soft surprise at the end

[philyuri]

i've said before that they were leaning more and more into the "plausible" half of the plausible deniability scale but like. this is It. genuinely this is It for me. spending an entire video creating stories that are NOT explicitly romantic or sexual, do not feature kissing or traditional love declarations, but ARE about dan and phil self inserts committing to living and dying together no matter what.... AND QUALIFYING THESE STORIES AS STEAMY ROMANCE? CALLING THESE SELF INSERTS PRINCE LOVERS? yeah. yeah. that's it. that's genuinely it for me. insisting that these stories are love stories is just. yeah man lmao there's nothing else to say!!!

[breezycheezyart]

"Rest..."

Soft kisses for her paladin~

Please do not repost

[delicourse]

most wonderful girl named mold

[fallloverfic]

Almost 10 years later and we still FEASTIN.

I remember when this page dropped on Tuesday, July 16, 2013, and Blackenloin/Goldenheart/Goldheart/w/e shippers all collectively lost our minds. Yes, Ballister and Ambrosius are very shippable from the get-go (their hand placement on p.13, Ambrosius on p.21 to Ballister "Are you trying to make me jealous" and his otherwise flirty dialogue, Ambrosius holding Ballister's hand at the bar on p.102, plus little hints and things by Nate on Nate's tumblr), but p.126 was an outright confirmation that it wasn't just angsty and close platonic stuff (with very clingy Ambrosius) that's fun to ship but not exactly canon in the text itself (like you can read it as "oh these two had something" from the get-go but it's not exactly explicit up until this point, and it's a different experience reading the completed comic all in one go versus reading it page by page over the course of a couple years as pages release). The Director's wording, Ambrosius' little blush. Ahh, these beans.

So excited to see the movieeeee

[coldshrugs]

my lovely friend @greyyourwarden made this beautiful portrait of io and i'm making nonstop chinhands about it 💗💗💗

[xlmibby]

'what doesn't kill you makes you stronger' except xiao doesn't feel like anything he went through - that endless agony and suffering that sill haunts him in the middle of the night when he closes his eyes - made him any stronger. if anything, it made him wrecked. broken. tainted with blood and pain that he doesn't seem to be able to erase.

as he's panting heavily after defeating monsters full of bad karmic energy, he can feel it, almost. that disgusting sensation etching its way deep into his bones - so deep that he slowly starts to think it's impossible to erase it. to erase all the ugliness of this pain and karma and his own past actions from the depths of his shattering heart.

darkness only sinks in, deeper and deeper. wrapping around his heart, choking his throat until he can't breathe, can't think about anything other than how much easier it would be to be erased from this world. or better, die while protecting mortals. this way, he will fulfill his oath but also erase another dangerous being full of karma from the world - himself.

lumine is nothing like him, he thinks.

after losing everything - her wings, her only family - she held closely to her heart, and going through all the pain this world has to offer, she still hopes. her eyes gleam when she helps people, the corners of her lips curl upwards at the sight of pretty sunsets. she skips a few steps when she's excited and she acts like happy small bunny who is happy to explore the world and it's mysteries (recklessly, sometimes. or at least xiao thinks she is a bit foolish - in an endearing way but still, it makes him a bit worried sometimes. it makes him want to be better so he can stay by her side and fiercely protect her heart with all his might as it was more his than his own.).

in the pale moonlight, in xiao's eyes–in the spaces bettwen his racing heartbeat and trembling exhales, she looks almost like the personification of love herself.

....how can she be so soft despite it all?

xiao knows he shouldn't dare to get closer to her, to long for any semblance of her light and presence around him... to yearn for her love, for her... he isn't sure whether he deserves it, anyway... the closure he's able to offer her might hurt her in the end, he's all too aware of that possibility and it's scaring him - just like the want for her does... lumine deserves better than to deal with someone who's more akin to a monster than to human, so unlike her...

and yet, his heart lingers there; with a girl as gentle as the moonlight and as radiant as the sunlight, whose heart is pure gold and her smile lights up his world just a little bit and makes him wish he, too, could be soft. just like her love is.

[talentforlying]

priest: i don't, ah, quite know what to say to you. if you are in such terrible danger, why are you taking it all so calmly? constantine: hmh! i dunno, father. i had a bloke beaten to a pulp earlier this evening. that sound calm to you? priest: you did what...? constantine: i must've been off me bleedin' rocker. i've never done anything like it before in me life, y'know?

constantine: but there's header gets his guts blown out, and george is stickin' his head in the noose, and helen gets ... jesus, then friggin' sarah bites me head off — ! everything's coming to bits in me hands and it's so easy to just see red and now, shit, they could've killed the tosser for all i know! and now i'm just like the bastards i've hated all me life! kill him! fire him! close them down! piss all over him! screw you, i can do whatever i want! i so much as blink and you're dead, pal! i'm in charge!! ...

constantine: 'scuse me, father. i'm always like this when i don't get me own way. — hellblazer #81, "rake at the gates of hell pt. 4"

babygirl you are just....so, sooooo offputting. (and grieving, and guilty, and terrified, but yeah: offputting.)

anyway, it's issues like this one that remind me why i kind of hesitate over some of the retcons in the recent spurrier runs, like the one with him now having opened dream's pouch of sand and stolen some before they even met. because like, it's easy enough to look at john constantine now — with 70 years of worst possible choices and unresolved trauma crystallizing underneath his skin to cover up all the soft, hopeful bits where he's used to getting hit — and assign him arbiter of ill intentions, magus of wasted potential, saint of shit choices, but man . . . he was new to this, once. he was still new to this 80 issues in.

80 issues in, and he's not used to losing friends yet; he even has time enough between catastrophes to grieve each individual one. still has enough left to live for at this stage to necessitate running and hiding, instead of bodily throwing himself at the problem like he learns to later, or sitting apathetically by to do nothing except smoke and watch the world fall apart when he finally gives up. fuck, he still apologizes.

and you're telling me this guy, this soppy wet cat motherfucker hiding from the devil in a church basement, so guilty over not knowing what happened to the guy that he paid people (paid chas, so chas could pay people) to attack that the bottle he's holding in this scene isn't even his second or third........this guy's past, more innocent self lied right to the face of DREAM OF THE ENDLESS and got away with it?

hm. i just don't know about all that.

[aheckinmess]

Elysium [Hawks] (Angst)

(One-shot 22/? in a collection of My Hero Academia one-shots posted regularly on Saturdays - and sometimes Sundays.)

Read on AO3.

Tags: Keigo Takami, Tamaki Keigo, Hawks, Original Female Character(s), Ichijiku Aoki, Tigress, Angst, Well I Say Angst But it Ended Up Fluffier Than Expected, Protective Hawks, Hawks Saves the Day, Soft Hawks, OC Falls from the Sky, I Know it Sounds Weird, But You'll Understand in Time, Hawks Has to Save Her, Also There's a Coffee Shop Involved, A Bookstore is Mentioned, Hawks Needs a Hug, OC Needs a Jacket, Hawks is a Casual Flirt, And This Surprises No One

Word Count: 1,611 words

Summary: When Ichijiku goes from reading her favorite book to falling off a building, it's obvious her day is a little topsy turvy. After being saved by Hawks, she can't get the winged wonder out of her mind. A chance encounter in a coffee shop tells her that he can't stop thinking about her, either.

Ichijiku (Tigress)

There is no doubt about how the sun felt dripping liquid serenity into my veins. Nor is there any doubt about the way I’d dove into my book to taste the delectable tale on the pages.

So it is only natural that when I open my eyes and see the bustling streets below me that I’m a little confused. Why is my body so heavy? Why am I at the top of a skyscraper? 

The questions send me into a sort of vertigo. When I lift my head from the sights below, my equilibrium swirls out of balance. One moment I’m sitting up on the ledge and the next my body tilts forward, my heart left behind as I fall over the edge.

Time seems to stall as the world whips past my line of sight. Nothing stops the twisted feeling of sludge crawling through my mind as I watch the pavement coming closer and closer, not fully comprehending the gravity of its approach. 

When a familiar red feather whips past me, the first threads of hope ripple through my limbs until Hawks' figure comes into view. This foreign yet familiar man is a sight for sore eyes as the certainty of my death abruptly slaps me in the face. 

My arms already instinctively reach for him as he stretches for me, capturing me into his arms and then smiling with such a sweet smile. A smile that often captivated the hearts of women and journalist cameras alike. His eyes hide behind a visor as I drink him in, likening him to a heavenly protector as he pulls me against his chest and banks a hard right while he redirects my fatal projection.

Whenever it's clear my life will not end - at least not today - I focus on soothing my heart rate.

"I've got you! Just hold on tight and I'll get you to safety!" He promises, the vow sinking deep into my bones and offering me respite. "Focus on breathing for me, alright? You're going to be okay!" 

His voice somehow still holds its honey-like quality even as he fights to be heard over the wind. My eyes fight against the desire to be closed again, rolling around in my head as a pair of gloved hands keeps my head steady when it’s obvious I can’t. 

We’re on the ground for a minute-long eternity before I realize it.

“Hey, come back to me, cutie pie. Focus here.” His voice and those golden-brown eyes keep my attention, and it’s obvious he clocks the moment I’m responsive again. “Good. There you are. Talk to me; does anything hurt? What’s your name?”

A soft whimper makes it past my lips. My limbs still fight to move through their slimy slumber, and dammit, I just want him to keep talking to me.

“Keep…talk…” I plead, head flopping back until he readjusts me and his other question registers. “Ichijiku.”

He chuckles and it feels like we’re in the air again, his laughter elevating me right up into the clouds. 

“I can keep talking, but you try loosening this death grip you’ve got on me in the meantime, okay?” He teases, a smirk pulling at the edges of his lips.

I blink and look at his chest, where a pair of hands clutch his aviator jacket. No, not just hands, my hands. While he calls the paramedics and coaxes me with soothing words, I work on regaining control of my fingers and extracting them from my hero’s jacket.

“Sorry.” I finally mutter, interrupting his reassurances. “I don’t know what’s wrong. My…my head.” 

“What’s wrong with your head, honey?”

“Everything feels fuzzy.” I start, opening and closing my hands agonizingly slowly. “My body is moving through sludge, it feels like.”

“Sounds like she might have been drugged.” A new voice enters the fray, and it’s not nearly as pleasant.

A tall woman approaches in a EMT uniform and shines a light in my eyes, making me wince. Electricity crackles through my skull until I’m leaning closer to Hawks again.

“I found her falling off of the Honshii building. She was barely able to hold her head up by herself when we landed.” Hawks reports, before giving a little smile and a wave to me. “I’ll leave you in these fine peoples’ capable hands, cutie. Got more people to rescue. See you on the flip side!”

“Don’t go…”

But he’s gone before the words finish leaving my mouth.

. . . . .

My physical recovery doesn’t take long, but sleeping becomes nearly impossible. I’m reassured that it’ll pass, but that seems a little silly considering the circumstances. One moment I’m reading and falling asleep, the next I’m falling off a 20-story building. 

So, the next morning I head to the coffee shop down the street.

The blast of warmth as I step inside helps soothe my tired bones. Bustling bodies clamber together in a line as order after order is placed at the counter.

When I accidentally step back into a familiar, golden-haired angel, I think I’m dreaming.

“Fancy running into you here, honey. Glad to see you’re not falling out of the sky again.” Hawks winks at my bewildered expression before his gaze softens. “How have you been?”

I’d thought that my delirious state might have accounted for the amount of comfort I felt from his voice, but even now his dulcet tones warm me more than any cup of coffee could.

“It’s been hard to sleep, but I’m alive and well.” I chuckle, stepping forward and looking up at the menu. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable that day.”

“Uncomfortable? I had a cute girl clinging to me the whole time. Can’t be more comfortable than that.” He smiles, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “If anything, I should be making sure I didn’t make you uncomfortable. Casual flirting isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but it’s a habit of mine.”

“Oh, haha, no. If anything it helps my self-esteem coming from someone resembling an actual angel.” I rub the back of my neck and step forward to order my drink. “Can I get a large caramel frappuccino?”

“Sure thing!” The cashier replies, eyes locked on Hawks as she waves me down. “We’ll let you know when it’s ready. Hi, Hawks!”

“Hey, hey! How’s it going?” Hawks grins at the fangirling barista.

I smile and head down to the end to wait for my drink, wondering how it must feel to be recognized everywhere you go. I wonder if he ever gets tired or feels like taking a break from it all. He seems fine, but it has to be draining. 

“So, do you have any plans for the day?” He asks as he waits for his order with me.

“I’m not sure. It’s been hard to focus on much since I haven’t been sleeping well. I’m lucky my job is so fulfilling to me or I’d never get through the day.” I admit, chewing on my lip.

“I see. Where do you work?”

“I work at a local bookstore in town.”

“Ah, bookworm, I presume?”

“Guilty as charged.” I grab my drink as the barista hands it over. “I love reading and writing.”

“Think you’d like going to the pond with me? It’s the perfect reading nook.” Hawks leans against the counter on his elbow, eyes captivating behind his sunglasses.

“With…with you?” My eyes widen. “I’m not sure I’m worth the time, especially on your day off.”

“On the contrary, you’re a breath of fresh air.” He takes a sip of his coffee once it’s handed to him and tilts his head. “So, what do you say?”

“I could use some company.”

. . . . .

We’re both quiet as we crunch the autumn leaves on our way to the pond. Ducks greet us with noisy quacks as their companions loop around the pond with them. 

Between the windy breeze and my cold drink, goosebumps raise on my arms and I shiver. A moment later, the soft lining of Hawks’ aviator jacket envelops my shoulders.

“Oh, you don’t have to–”

“I insist.” Hawks says, guiding us to the edge of the dock spanning the circumference of the pond. “You seemed rather intent on stealing it when I saved you, anyway.”

I laugh at that.

“Okay, but to be fair, I wasn’t in my right mind at the time.”

“That only proves to me that you must have really wanted it. Without your inhibitions you were so eager to have me close.” He continues his taunting before he pauses at the wooden railing overlooking the lily pads. He glances at me and then over the water. “I can’t stop thinking about you, ya know? I’ve saved hundreds of people, but I’ve never had such a hard time getting someone off my mind as you.”

Blood rushes up my neck and into my cheeks, now burning from his attention.

“I, um, I’m flattered. I don’t know why you’d be so interested, but it feels good.” I manage to say, wringing my hands together as I try not to freak out. Am I still not sure I’m hallucinating because of sleep deprivation? “I’m sure you’re not surprised to know that I’ve been thinking about you, too. But honestly, it’s been more so because I cringe every time I think about how I must have looked at you when you saved me.”

“Ha! Why would you cringe about that?”

“Because when I saw you, I thought you were sent straight from heaven.” I shake my head, taking another slurp of my drink. “I must have looked so dumb.”

“No. You looked like you’d reached Elysium. And honestly?” Hawks tilts my face towards him. “I thought I had, too.”

Want More Hawks? Try: Hide & Seek Pt. 1

[crispywizardtale]

[shepards-folly]

Like an angel crushed underneath god’s boot [+ wip images under the cut]

[bl-inkstone]

traveler, wait! it's dangerous to go alone, so have some zhongli thoughts for company!

i think life with zhongli as your significant other would be best described as the love behind every little action and gesture the two of you make. even with all the years you've spent at each other's side (either married or just simply together), the romance never dies. but it shifts and goes through changes, like stone giving way to the gentle embrace of time.

one such example is when the love shared between you calms into something that can blend in with the walls of your home. it matches the color of your curtains, the painted flowers on cups left on your tea table, the clothbound books and scrolls tucked away into the red cedar scroll shelf you had diligently sought after and haggled for when your lover had mentioned it once in passing. it's in the crinkle of your eyes in the morning when you sit at your table together and eat. it's in the shape of his smile when he returns from his work in the funeral parlor to you and the home you've made together.

when you grind ink for him while he works beside you, or comb and tie his hair for him in the morning when sleep still clings to the edges of his eyes. when he combs and washes your hair for you in soothing baths, or leans down to massage the stress of the day away from your tense shoulders when you come back home to him.

acts of service that don't really feel like acts of service — not to zhongli or you. gestures of devotion seem like a more apt term, now, when love is so ingrained in your lives that the word can no longer be used to describe it. you've turned the word from noun to adjective, from adjective to action. love is such a small word for such a boundless concept, but you manage to fit it in every word, every action, and every day leaves zhongli helpless and wondering in the dead of night of what to do with all the love he holds in his hands, specially made just for you.

it's a song and dance he can never quite stray from. even when his heart calms in the daytime and he can look at you with all the assuredness of a lover that loves and knows he is loved in return, all five thousand years of wisdom leaves him when night comes and you're asleep in his arms. he has loved plenty in his long lifetime. friends, family, even past lovers that he can only maybe recall when he can recognize a quirk or quality present in you. but it's in your presence that zhongli remembers that even an archon can become just a man weak to the war between heart and mind. what good is five thousand years of wisdom when it can't tell him what to do with all the love he has for you? how can he show it without scaring you away? you know who he is and you've said time and time before that it doesn't scare you, that you love him no matter what form or identity he takes but what if —

you shift in your sleep and all thoughts cease as he swiftly readjusts his hold as to not disturb you any further. in the dark of your room, zhongli counts each breath and beat of your heart and wills his own to match the tempo of yours. in the morning, he'll reprimand himself for entertaining such foolish thoughts while you hum and converse in front of your shared vanity. he'll share these thoughts with you as he always has, and you'll put down your comb and grace his face with crystalfly kisses as you always have in return. your routine shifts to make room for assurance during the times when he needs it, and the same goes for him when you speak your own fears and doubts as well.

it's part of the comfort of your life together, as strange as it may sound, that you live with all the joys and lows your love brings. sometimes, he wishes he can give you more and do away with all his mortal doubts completely, but a moment of contemplation reveals that it is exactly these doubts that make the softer aspects your lives shine all the more brighter. is this why you allow yourself to feel all your emotions, rather than push back and try to reason them away? is this why you've always placed so much importance in letting him know that should he ever need it, your shoulder is his to lean on? zhongli understands the rationale behind it and has given similar advice to mortals he's met before, of course, but it seems that even he is not immune to the irrationality of the heart. there is much wisdom to still be learned, he concedes. five thousand years is no match for an emotion that has existed since the dawn of teyvat, after all.

time doesn't completely erase all the insecurities of a man who has loved and lost so many in his long lifetime, but zhongli finds that he doesn't entirely mind. come trials and tribulations, he'll stand firm and weather it so long as he can keep holding your hand through it all.

[waywardsalt]

there is undeniable opportunity to make bellum x linebeck fucked up but i dont have it in me. im a sucker for it just being fine with a side of like. light nautical crimes against nature but i cant make it toxic or w/e after a certain point. theyre chilling

[cordeliawhohung]

soft spot spoilers under the cut!!!!! don't read if you haven't read the latest chapter, Ischemia

@waves-against-a-cliff answering your ask this way that way people who haven't read the newest part yet don't get spoiled!!!

first off, i love you you used the word CLEANSED, especially after their little sexy time together a;sldkfj but that was honestly how i intended the whole chapter to feel! nothing but good vibes and healing for our two babies <3

and the proposal was so so so difficult but so fun to write!! because Simon does not strike me at all as the type to like... go all out with a proposal lmfao. like he's not gonna take you to a fancy restaurant and get down on one knee and you guys get free dessert or anything. he's just gonna do it when the time feels right (:

and, i hope this isn't at all concerning, but if it's angst you're still wanting for the two of them, their story isn't quite done yet (: i have like, 2 more arcs left before i'm officially done with the series! and, well, a lot can happen before then. there are a few loose ends that haven't been tied up quite yet that i'd like to address before ending everything. <3

but GAH overall i'm glad you enjoyed it! it was such a fun, stressful, happy chapter to write and i had so much fun with it a;ldksfj

[kelpiemomma]

Ingo held Khan's scaled wrist gently as he examined the claws his friend now sported. Five fingers had been turned into four deadly talons, new to Ingo but already put to gruesome work by the hybrid.

"I'm sorry about your hands..." he said softly. Khan shrugged as he examined his other claws.

"Eh, don't sweat it. It's hardly the worst thing they've done to me." He responded mildly. As though his body being changed against his will to a weapon was the norm. Ingo glanced at his eyes, his fangs, the remnants of his horns- and remembered this wasn't the first time his friend had been altered against his will. His grip on Khan's hand tightened.

"Still," he insisted, "if we'd found you guys sooner..."

If they'd found Khan and Nana sooner, Khan would still have his hands and Nana would still have both eyes. If they'd been just a little faster to realize the hybrids were missing, to remember where they had come from, if they had pushed their pokemon a little harder to fly and fight-

"I'm glad you found us at all, honestly." Khan said it off the cuff, without thinking, but must have felt how Ingo's grip tightened again. He turned his head to look at his friend and Ingo felt mild dread at the look in his eyes. As Khan leaned forward he cringed back just slightly.

"Hey, look on the bright side!" Khan accentuated his words with a point from his claws. He must have seen Ingo's confused upset because he smiled wider.

"The bright side?" Ingo repeated. There was a bright side to this?

Khan shut his eyes as if he was a teacher explaining something incredibly simple.

"Oh, my sweet summer train man, of course there is!"

He stuck out his claws like Elesa and Skylar did when they were showing off freshly done nails. The scales gleamed in the light, dimly iridescent.

"I match your color scheme now!"

Ingo's gaze remained on the claws for a moment. Was this really a good thing? Khan had lost another important part of himself because he and Emmet had been too slow. Was the simple black nature of his scales that important? Could it make up for everything else?

He looked up with tired eyes, meeting Khan's gaze again, and realized that Khan was not as unaffected as he thought. He was giving Ingo the softest smile he'd ever witnessed on the other man's scarred face, his eyes half shut and gentle. Khan had been there when it happened, had suffered the consequences, just as he had the last time he'd been abducted. He would figure out how to deal with his new appendages just as he always had before. It was not quite old hat, but it was also nothing new, and something would have been changed no matter how quickly he and Emmet had arrived.

For the first time in the years he'd known Khan, the hybrid was being sympathetic and offering Ingo a comfort over something he had no control of. Yes, he now had claws and scales, but they were the color that Ingo most frequently found himself in. The color of one of his closest family members. Ingo wondered if Khan had used that as a way to comfort himself after it happened, but didn't dare ask. Instead he tried smiling. Surely it was weak, but the worried look in Khan's eyes lessened.

"Yes, you're quite right." Ingo grasped Khan's claws as if they were still his hands, holding them tightly. He would get used to them, just as Khan had. It would be alright. "Another color would have been quite unfortunate."

[ceaselxss]

aesthetics for the entities, part i.   bold what applies to your muse, italics what applies situationally or only in certain verses. rest of the fears here.  this is based on a horror podcast;  potentially triggering and / or upsetting content ahead!

i.  the buried.   weighed blankets.  drowning.  the comfort of a loved one’s weight.  soil and sand piling on top of you.  hugging so hard it hurts a little.  cramped hiding spots.  letting out air underwater to sink to the bottom of the pool.  walls pressing in on you.  not moving from a position even though you’re cramping a little.  dragging the last second before you have to inhale.  lonely subways.  feeling like one with the earth.  a layer of dirt on you.  looking for something below.  cardboard boxes and tiny pillow forts.  hands calloused from digging.  knowing that your purpose is just below the surface.  entering your final resting place before it kills you.  a storm drowning you out.  dust and sand speaking to you.

ii.  the corruption.   insects.  a close imitation of the natural course of life.  an illness in a community.  a rag that dirties more than it cleans.  an untreated wound.  containment.  breaching containment.  unbreathable air.  fungi.  one with that you love.  one with what loves you.  a corpse unfit for a glass case.  hearing a song in the sound of tiny wings and legs.  honeycomb patterns.  an ecosystem within a person.  a curse passed on.  the hubris of a scientist.  an ugly death where a glorious one is owed.  blood on a handkerchief.  parasites.  something pushing up the sewer.  a mask to keep something out.  trypophobia.  knowing you belong.  death weeks after impact.  fever.  food that’s gone off.  pandora’s box.  death behind a glass.

iii.  the dark.   shadows.  lights that turn off by themselves.  the feel of cold marble.  a beaked creature in the night.  the difference between seeing darkness and seeing nothing.  touch of something you can’t see.  hiding under a blanket.  white, clouded eyes.  months without going outside during sunlight.  pouring dark.  unscrewing lightbulbs.  black matter.  light sensitivity.  a starless night.  time before light was created.  a shadow on the wall without a body to attach to.  withering plants.  a world without a sun.  footfalls in an empty house in the night.  a light that doesn’t reach as far as it should.  desperate reach for a flashlight.  clothes that hide your shape.  staying unperceivable.  winter months in the north.  an empty church.

iv.  the desolation.   senseless pain.  warmth of faith.  wax where skin should be.  a blazing fire.  heat without a source.  the third or fourth tragedy in the family.  losing everything you’ve ever held dear.  so much to live for, gone so soon.  the smell of gasoline.  touch that scars.  coffee cup that never goes cold.  scorch marks on wood.  inescapably warm air.  a child born in fire.  death of a loved one.  a candle without a flame.  an altar in the middle of the woods.  animals with burnt fur.  plastic explosives.  burning hot metal.  sweating in an interrogation room.  never touching a loved one.  disfigurement.  a kiss that ruins you.  the scent of burning fat.  a tattoo that terrifies its viewer.  the agony of hellfire displayed as art.  auburn hair.  little clothing in cold weather.  a ripple in the air.  trying to cool down in vain.

v.  the flesh.   body horror.  factories.  a hunger for something more filling.  never quite happy with how you look.  the terror of an animal waiting for slaughter.  a very good meal.  the liquid of a perfect steak.  fighting your worst survival instincts.  a twisted bone.  long nights working out.  more than one heart.  appearance that shapes like clay.  a bag of bones.  bone broth in a pot.  knowing to fear pigs.  the butcher’s shop.  plastic surgery.  something alien inside your body.  a hunger in the gaze laid upon you.  unwitting cannibalism.  forgetting what you used to look like.  being admired for your appearance and appearance only.  teeth marks on skin.  scars from wounds that should’ve killed you.  cooking in scarcity.  fenced in with one way to go.

vi.  the end.   the last page of a book.  nightmares that don’t feel like nightmares.  a skeletal hand.  the grip of the grim reaper around your throat.  existential pain.  ivory dice.  flatlining in a hospital.  gambling with death.  as old as the universe.  soul and spirit tied to an object.  a dream where you die.  closing your eyes for the last time.  the plead of a dying one.  knowing the fate of someone you know and being unable to prevent it.  a thousand cords tugging you towards your end.  skin that’s freezing to the touch.  an act of desperation.  someone’s life for yours.  an eternity spent alive.  the cost of your selfishness.  watching your own burial.  causing your own burial.  the smell of death.  numbness to fear.  words from someone gone.  meaninglessness of the actions or lives of single people in the universe.  multiple near-death experiences you refuse to die from.

vii.  the eye.   googling something you shouldn’t have.  eureka moments.  the unforgiving lens of a camera.  witness reports.  hidden libraries.  eyes of different colours.  feeling of being watched.  a death recorded in tape.  a tragedy you can’t watch away from.  endangering yourself for knowledge.  truth.  analog records.  a symbol of an eye.  a watch tower.  compulsion to document.  turning on recording devices without thinking about it.  saving the evidence before the person.  extracting information.  truth or dare, without the dare.  a thirst for knowledge.  books that speak to you.  coordinated shelves.  cataloguing systems.  voyerism.  police report you can’t put down.  reasoning your way out.  smell of old papers.  books that read you back.

Tagged by @reapersxfolly bc they know my interests <3

[gemgirl28]

@ifyouwereamelodymeg challenged me to actually write angst with these soft angst prompts and told me to pick the pair. Since I’ve just put Zutara through the ringer in clandestine meetings, how about some Dramione angst?

it's like we've become strangers

He's drinking gin. She didn't know he liked gin. When they- well, she always thought he preferred firewhiskey.

But there's no mistaking the wintery smell of pine wafting from his glass, nor the way it drifts over her when he stands too close to her on the balcony where she was trying to seek peace.

"Lovely party," she says, because it's the polite thing to say. "Astoria seems-" she chokes for a moment, barely enough to tell Hermione didn't immediately know what she was going to say, but of course he'd catch it, "-lovely." She winces at her own repetition.

"She is," Draco delicately says. "But she's not-"

"I didn't know you drank gin," Hermione blurts out, not capable of hearing whatever awful, sweet thing he was going to say.

Draco sighs heavily, swirls his drink, and takes a deep draw from it. "I have for a few years now."

"Oh. I see." She swallows and turns back to look over the gardens, not remembering when she'd let herself look at him. It hurts too much to do so for any length of time, so she generally avoids him.

But now he's come and found her, and she refuses to be the first to back down.

"I didn't know you had any interest in fashion," he counters. Hermione rolls her eyes and sips more of her champagne. Without knowing what else to say, she'd complimented Astoria's gown upon entering the Manor. Astoria had taken it as a sign to prattle on for five uncomfortable minutes about the designer and inspiration.

"Just in passing," Hermione finally says.

For a few minutes the only sound is the orchestra behind them and the peacocks on the lawn ahead of them. Hermione finishes the last of her drink, ready to slip back inside, make her excuses to Harry & Ginny, and head home, when he speaks up.

"It's like we've become strangers."

It's barely more than a whisper, hardly discernible over the din of the party, but it ignites a fury within her.

"And whose fault is that?" She whirls on him, voice low and dark.

"Mine, as usual," he sighs, resigned, fanning the flames of her rage.

"How dare you- you made your choices. You never let me have a say. You don't get to feel pity for your own mistakes when you never considered the alternatives."

He opens his mouth but she shakes her head.

"No. No, you don't get to break my heart and then parade your perfect, pureblood fiance in front of me and then try to apologize, or explain, or say anything." She's horrified to feel a tear slip down her cheek. "I knew I shouldn't have come but Harry- doesn't matter. I shouldn't have come." She sets her champagne glass on the balcony and pushes past him, leaving him standing on the balcony alone.

Only once she's home, changed into his old t shirt and tucked into his side of the bed, does she let herself succumb to her grief, sobbing until she falls asleep.

Send me a prompt and a pairing!