inexorable love


classic lit moodboards- Les Misérables by Victor Hugo

Love has no middle term; either it destroys, or it saves. All human destiny is this dilemma. This dilemma, destruction or salvation, no fate proposes more inexorably than love. Love is life, if it is not death. Cradle; coffin, too. The same sentiment says yes and no in the human heart. Of all the things God has made, the human heart is the one that sheds most light, and alas! most night.

It was simply intoxicating, the way she put on her usual light eyeliner at the mirror and the way she turned to me, just to give a soft smile. Falling in love was always something so inexorable, when it came to her.
—  Lukas W. // Falling inexorably
If I lay here


Fandom: The Hobbit
Pairing: Thorin x elf!reader
Based on: Helloo ! Me again ! (Thorin’s wife) I absolutely loved your last Thorin fanfic it’s perfect you’re perfect don’t change don’t die and yeah I have another little fantasy. So Reader is an elf in the compagny and comes the time when you’re all going to sleep and Thorin lays besides Reader and it’s super cold and Thorin is super grumpy but he’s worried if you’re warm enough and spoon you without saying anything. [Fluff/Smut] Thank you and sorry you must be tired of all those Thorin requests ily - frozenglitch
Notes: fluff, slight smut, some Thorin’s POV
Words: 1.909

Author’s notes: Thank you so much for your words, I’m just flattered ❤ And I’m really happy you enjoyed the last story. I hope you’ll like this one too, even if I had to add some back story first to explain the “let’s cuddle” moment. By the way, don’t worry, I never get tired of Thorin ;)
[I do not own the gif]


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The faint rain after an intense and powerful dance
The whole days and she lingers and the playful sounds inexorably soft damp…
The nature and its flowers in the night, that open but always its sensation,-MMM- I hear in her the rhythm of the music of all times always there…
Transparent with night and stars … If only the night with you
—  Mayakovskyjung/Дэвид

faiasakura  asked:

alive!Auguste AU where Auguste and Nikandros commiserate over Laurent and Damen (and their shenanigans) b/c there is never enough of either Auguste or Nikandros. (btw are you intending more for Lines on Palms? I love the way you stage the political intrigue).

“Prince Laurent of Vere and Akielos,” says the tournament herald, “challenges His Exalted Majesty Damianos, King of Akielos.”

Auguste’s brother, looking cool and slender as ever, strides into the ring as though unaware of the commotion running through the crowd at this announcement. He bows to Auguste, heels together, one hand on his sword hilt, perfectly correct.

“A bold challenge,” Auguste says.

“The privilege of rank,” replies Laurent, with something that might look like humility if you didn’t know him well.

They are at Marlas. It was the obvious place for this, the first formal meeting of councils since Laurent crossed the border as equal parts envoy and prize. An alliance, even one strengthened by marriage, is like a tree. It must be tended, watched, its branches guided along the proper frames, else it withers or grows wild. Friendly sports such as this tournament are a vital part of that. A small amount of blood, spilled in the ring, as an offering against anything larger.

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Open letter to Robert King from a broken shipper

Dear Mr. King,

I’m a shipper. Yes, I belong to that very common, yet way too underestimated category of people who take a sick delight in getting their hearts deluded, crushed, ripped apart and scattered on the ground like a myriad of rainbow confetti.

I’ve been in The Good Wife fandom since the very beginning, since those good old days when my sanity was still intact. At least in appearance. I can proudly define myself as one of those die-hard, faithful, unbreakable viewers of your show. I consecrated my heart to Alicia on day one and it’s still like that, five years, oceans of tears, and a bunch of heart attacks later. No matter what she does, no matter how many times I yell at her in frustration, she always gets my unconditional love, which I’m sure is totally unhealthy. But still… What I couldn’t predict back then – oh my naiveté -  was that slowly, inexorably, unconsciously, my love for Will would come along, growing episode after episode as I started to know him through Alicia’s eyes. Those beautiful mossy eyes… sorry, I was wandering off.

Back to the point, when I realized that I had a ship, it was too late. Damage done, sheep escaped, dyke cracked… You got the point.

Oh, Mr. King, sometimes I wonder if you knew, five years ago, what you would cause to the audience. And by audience, I feel the need to make clear what I mean. Audience is not who comes and goes, then comes back again – or maybe never looks back – following the blow of the wind. Audience is not who watches the story for a ship and ignores everything else, leaving when waters are rough, abandoning the sinking ship and coming back when the lifeboat gets in sight. Nope, Robert (can I call you Robert, can’t I?). Real audience is who stays, faithful like a guide dog, through storms and sunshine, never afraid to laugh, to cry, to scream colorful curses at the screen, to shout at our loved characters, loudly, very loudly, because we want to make sure they hear us from inside that bewitched box called TV. Never afraid to feel. Even when feel gets a twisted sense and turns against us, leaving us bleeding – metaphorically at least for us – and we wish we never felt. To feel becomes the resound of shots from afar, it becomes the shocked faces of Diane and Kalinda and we suddenly think “Oh, fuck, this is not happening!”

It happened.

It was Sunday 23rd March, 2014. The day our fandom flipped out. The day oceans gained gallons of salt water from all the tears shed. The day you killed William Paul Gardner and our whole world collapsed. We are talking about a fictional character? Yes, we are not yet insane to the point of not knowing that Will is very much fictional. Fictional for our minds, real for our distraught hearts. You sent a whole fandom – with a few heartless exceptions – in mourning. You think I’m kidding, Robert? (If I have to go back to a detached Mr. King, it’s okay, just say it and I will.) I won’t blame you for his death, you did your job. But you might have underestimated the impact of such a loss on those who love him – I mean loved, sometimes I forget he’s gone. Sigh.

I’ve been grieving ever since and trust me when I tell you that I’m not alone. Actually I am grateful that I’m not alone, since it means I’m not completely crazy.

I could start from the grieving symptoms, which don’t seem to fade away. Here is the list:

-          Lack of appetite (for which I should actually thank you, this year I won’t fail the bathing suit test!)

-          Insomnia (three straight days, cost of sleeping pills on day 4: $ 24.00)

-          Random fits of tears in the most unexpected moments of the day and of the night (you go and explain my boss while I spent my Monday crying instead of working)

-          Swinging moods, worse than a pregnant lady, shifting from laughter to hysterical sobs in a nanosecond.

Just so you are not unprepared, I am gathering the bills of our shrinks, you should get them by registered mail very soon (we are waiting one more week so we can add the ones that will still come after next episode, of course) and you are expected to refund them or we’ll start a class action. We are generous and give you three days to decide :D

As cherry on top, can we discuss all the lethally emotional flashbacks you gave us in the last two seasons? So many nice moments that I’ll personally be unable to watch without crying for the rest of my life. That hot balcony sex that from now on will be the-happiest-Alicia-has-ever-been-and-will-never-be-again-because-Will-is-dead. Memory: erased. Their first kiss in Will’s office, with the snow falling silently outside his window; so romantic, wasn’t it? From now on it will be Oh-the-first-kiss-with-the-love-of-her-life-who-will-be-dead-in-four-years-from-now. Memory: erased. And what about the EPIC (capital letters needed) elevator ride to the presidential suite? You even felt the need to give us flashbacks from inside the room only a few weeks ago. It was such a nice gesture to remind us how hot and sweet they were together. Just before killing him. 

And it’s still okay. You are telling your story, for the sake of Alicia’s education, it was better to have him shot than to send him away. It’s the earthquake that will change her life forever. Again.

After all of this, one would assume that such proof of courage and strength should be awarded; with appreciative words – “Our audience is the best!” – or with coherence – “Alicia and Kalinda are the core relationship of the show!” (Still waiting for that day and I start to suspect it’ll never come) – but no, apparently we are not. In your eyes the audience is probably a mass of random idiots who take what they’re being given and never complain. Ding! Ding! NOPE! Sorry dear, but we are not. We have a dignity and we expect respect in return. Nothing more than respect.

This time, Robert, you took a false step. A giant one. Let me show you exactly where…

“We wanted to give the audience the expectation that near the end of the year they could get back together.”

You wanted what?

“We wanted to give the audience the expectation that near the end of the year they could get back together.”

Oh. So I got it right.

I am a bit confused by the above quote (which I take the liberty to remind you that they are words you spoke during the latest panel.) Maybe I’m taking it a bit personally, but after grieving four days – and still far from being over – for the death of Will, I found it a bit rude, maybe even cruel. Let’s tell it clear, it was a slap in the face of who, like me, has been faithful since the very beginning. I’m sure you could have done better than to trick the audience. I’m sure you could have killed our beloved Will and still come out as a winner. You could… but you didn’t. You broke our hearts and instead of saying sorry you threw them in the shifting sands.

Even deprived of my heart, I will still be here, every Sunday, with a careful eye on Alicia. I will be here to watch her grieving, crying inconsolably for the loss of the man she loved, finding the strength to move on (and please, I said move on, not move back) because she’s my girl, because I’m protective of her as I would of a real human being. For this I bow down to you, Robert, you made me love her unconditionally.

If I’ll never leave it’s thanks to the greatness of her character. Even if it hurts, even if it kills, even if it frustrates me and makes me curse every now and then.

In my heart, still drowning in the sands, Alicia and Will’s love will never die.


The-broken-shipper me

anonymous asked:

What would you envision Sleepy Hollow to be like if it was an HBO show?


Can I make it a Starz show instead? Because we were talking about this in the chat last night, the idea of Sleepy Hollow as a female gaze-y show. And HBO is so about the male gaze it hurts. I mean, Game of Thrones. Period, end of story. But Starz? Starz has Outlander. One of the most revolutionary shows in framing female desire. 

That’s what I’d want for our show if we got a no-holds-barred rating. A show that gets that full-frontal isn’t necessarily sexy – though it can be, if it’s framed properly. A show that lets relationships unfold slowly but inexorably, that gets that love can be mixed up with loss and regret, that deploys shocking violence tactically to make a point instead of to be gratuitous. 

That’d be pretty okay with me. 

“Love has no middle ground; either it destroys or it saves. All human destiny is in this dilemma. This dilemma, destruction or salvation, no fatality poses this more inexorably than love. Love is life, if it is not death. Cradle but likewise tomb. Of all the things God has made, the human heart is that which gives the most light, alas! and the most night.

God wanted the love which found Cosette be one of the loves that saves.”

-Victor Hugo, Les misérables 

It’s For You - a  CS Christmas One-shot

A/N: After all her other friends had cancelled, Emma expected a quiet Christmas Eve with her friends, the Nolans.  What she did NOT expect was Killian Jones on her doorstep with a bottle of rum, Mary Margaret to become mysteriously ‘sick’ at the last minute, and a series of presents delivered to her door.

[This is my little riff on the “all our friends are sick (or at least 'sick’) for our group’s annual holiday dinner so it’s just the two of us and wow does this seem romantic or am i just overthinking it” AU]

**MERRY CHRISTMAS TO @the-lady-of-misthaven​!!! I’m Your GUTTER FLOWER SECRET SANTA!!!**

Also on AO3 here.

Emma puttered around the kitchen putting the finishing touches on the appetizers. It didn’t count so much as cooking per se - more like arranging. She’d managed a lovely fruit and cheese tray, crudites with dip, and a bowl filled with bright red and green tortilla chips. All she needed was David’s legendary homemade guacamole for the chips and Mary Margaret’s trademark hot buttered rum mix, and the spread would be complete.

She was just about to get down the glassware when the buzzer sounded for the front door. Glancing at the clock on the DVR, she had a fleeting thought that it was rare for David and Mary Margaret Nolan to be early, even by a few minutes. Still, she shrugged it off and pressed the button on the call box to let them in, then turned her attention back to retrieving the glasses, knowing full well it would take them a few minutes to trudge up the five flights of stairs to reach her apartment.

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okay so like i started this when we got that spoiler about finally getting something that we’ve all been waiting for and i know everyone jumped to ‘she calls him killian’ and i even agree and i even started this going in that direction but then it went in this one and



She’s not sure what she would have expected; in the movies, amnesia got broken in a breathtaking flash, or else it was one of those sad romances where she never gets her memories back and he has to make her fall in love with him all over again from scratch, but in reality, it’s something more subtle.

It’s not that she’s struck with sudden, overwhelming memory; instead, it’s a settling remembering – it’s less I remember everything now and more I no longer forget.

The memories don’t overwhelm her, they’re just… there.

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