Sunny (sunny_serenity) wrote,
Sunny
sunny_serenity

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we might make love in some sacred place

I have this thing with Damien Rice where I ab.so.lutely love all his man pain angst cakes with an overwhelming admiration for the simplistic elegant approach to channeling personal conflict into art (only a few have wheedled their way to this status with me: Bon Iver, Mumford & Sons, Laura Marling). Then he fades into the background and becomes white noise for a majority of my life. Later, he comes rushing back to the forefront of my landscape something fierce and with a strangling hold that becomes one of the pinpoints of emotional resonance within a fandom. Thanks, Potter. Thanks. A. Lot.

Delicate; Damien Rice

I've had this on repeat for the last few days in conjunction with passages like these:

There’s not enough air in the room, not enough space in the world -- they need to be closer and the universe won’t let them: all he wants is to sink inside of her and never leave; to get lost, so that he’ll never remember a pull to be anywhere else.

He looks at her, longing as he lets the pace turn quick, coaxes her to moan deeper and tremble faster, fuller, and she’s looking back at him with a desperate ache in her eyes, and by the moon, the stars, by everything that has survived, everything that endures and remains: he wants her.

I’m pregnant, she whispers, and he feels his breaths stutter as her tears slip out, silent.

He comes hard, spills inside of her, and waits for his heart to stop racing.

It doesn’t.


Find Me When The Bells Are Tolling, Snow Is Falling
by hitlikehammers


I'm all:




and then this:

There’s almost an argument once. Harry seems restless with their arrangement and one night he asks the one question he promised himself never to ask: “Are you happy with him Hermione?”

It feels stupid the second it comes out and he feels guilty as hell because is he really going to break Ron’s heart? Could he do that?

“Yes! Of course I am,” she replies, startled and defensive. She turns around to him, eyes blazing and jaw set for a fight (this is the face he recognises from the Yule ball and he only feels worse) “Are you happy with Ginny?”

He sighs, pushing his hand through his hair, he paces for a minute and tries to decide how to answer. Harry doesn’t lie, “No. Not completely.” He sits down defeated, he’s twenty-eight and in the same predicament as he was a decade ago in a forest before a war.

“No-one can ever be completely happy Harry,” she says, the anger releasing its grip on her as she puts her hand over his. “I mean, I’m as happy as I think I can be, but that’s never whole, never complete.” He looks at her then, the same girl he first knew so long ago and kisses her hard. Hermione pulls her fingers tight in his hair, her heart flaring as it always does around him. He murmurs against her throat, “I want to be as happy as I think I can be, with you.”

“You are.”

He knows then that this is all they’ll ever be, relegated to clandestine meetings and lying to their spouses. They don’t stop though. He’s not sure they know how.


-


She still smokes.

He still doesn’t know how to help her.


with no room for a pardon
by aragons


I'm all:




Other news:
1) YAY! My PB bandwidth is back. Gorramit 15 days is a long wait.

2) The Kitty was so very nonplussed with all the fireworks last night. Guess we don't have to worry about her getting spooked so much. Also, she pretty much rules the roost now. Typical.

3) And now I have to go into work today. BOO HISS. WTH?! I hate retail. WHY DOES MY LOVE OF ALL THINGS MUSIC AND GEEK NOT ALLOW ME TO QUIT?!
Tags: boring life stuff, in the trenches, me and mah shadow, potter!verse, potter!verse: kiiiiiiiiiids, ready mcreaderson: fanfic, ships ahoy!
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