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#but not edith
batrachised · 11 months
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this passage from Magic from Marigold...
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velvet4510 · 3 months
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To anyone who believes fairy tale romances never happen in real life, may I remind you that JRR and Edith Tolkien met and experienced a forbidden love in their youth, and then were separated for five whole years because of his guardian’s rules that he could not date till he was 21, and she got engaged to someone else only because she assumed he’d forgotten her and lost hope that she could ever be with him, but then on his 21st birthday, he wrote her a letter saying he still loved her and wanted to marry her, she responded basically saying ‘if I’d known you hadn’t left me on the shelf, I would never have said yes to anyone else,’ then a week later she greeted him at the train station and then immediately dumped her fiancé, and they got married and she converted to his religion and danced for him in a flowering field far away from the trenches into which he was drafted, which left such an impression that he crafted an entire story about the most beautiful maiden in the world who danced in the woods and made enormous sacrifices to be with the man she loved, and they had four kids and remained faithful to each other and blissfully grew old together and their gravestones are now marked with the names of that same fictional couple that he created, who broke every rule and overcame every possible obstacle to be together and get a happy ending, who only did all that because he based it all on their own real love story.
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iamnotshazam · 2 years
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"our son made it through the war to come of age, let's fucken party! rsvp only if you're a little bitch who's NOT coming. all y'all not dead of alcohol poisoning by morning (lmao losers) get dunkt on"
edit: fascinating! the tags are full of two types of people. 1) people who think this is a joke and 2) catholics who fully admit to a bit of cheeky cultural alcoholism just nodding and saying "uh huh"
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greengableslover · 7 months
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Beautiful things are fragile…
CRIMSON PEAK (2015) dir. Guillermo del Toro
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oldpaintings · 3 months
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Bruges la nuit, c.1900 by Edith Vaucamps (Belgian, c.1860--c.1930) 
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abby-howard · 2 months
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Heeeey!!! Slay the Princess is 20% right now wowww!!!
AND this sale also coincides with a fun little content update that adds a bit of extra pizzazz to the end of the game, INCLUDING a few tracks that have been updated to the live orchestral versions. That's right! A real orchestra!!
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And we also just launched a "Cabins in the Woods" bundle with Inscryption and What Remains of Edith Finch which is kind of wildly exciting to me because they're both such good games, and I am absolutely delighted to be spoken in the same breath as either of them tbh.
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Anyway, big day for Slay the Princess!! We're still working on the Pristine Cut, so expect news on that later this year, but for now, we hope you enjoy our spring update ^_^
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fourorfivemovements · 10 months
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Mia Wasikowska on the Crimson Peak set, photo by clionafurey
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highlandkall · 7 months
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new OC! her names Edith ^^
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pierppasolini · 1 year
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Female Trouble (1974) // dir. John Waters
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undr · 4 months
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Edith Gerin. Immeubles démolis, 13th Arrondissement, Paris. 1954
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unamazing-sheep21 · 7 months
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The many uses of a Byronic Hero
chair ( Jane & Edward - Jane Eyre)
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Pillow ( Christine & Erik - Phantom of the Opera)
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Car ( Catherine & Heathcliff - Wuthering Heights)
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Water dispenser ( Edith & Thomas - Crimson Peak)
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vulcan-spicetea · 11 days
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SPIRK TOS: Soulmates
Star Trek: City on the Edge of Forever/ Madeline Miller/ Emily Bronte/ Madeline Miller/ Anne Carson (translator)/ Madeline Miller/ Madeline Miller
Inspired by this post.
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greengableslover · 4 months
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CRIMSON PEAK (2015) dir. Guillermo del Toro
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goryhorroor · 2 years
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2010s horror girls
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winterrrnight · 9 days
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touch starved rafe getting the hug he’s so desperately needed all his life <3 a rafe cameron x reader blurb <3 inspired by this bot by the one and only @pearlzier ! <3 cw: minimal swearing, mentions of blood, rafe being anxious, hurt/comfort, intentional use of lower case
“oh man…” rafe breathes out, his steps unstable with blood covering his hands and tear stains on his face as he practically stumbles inside your room.
“I’m… I’m so fucked man… so so fucked…” he mumbles, his words rushed and frantic. you rush to your feet after getting up from the bed, watching how he nervously paces in your room, his fingers slipping into his curtain bangs and pulling on the roots aggressively.
“somethin’s… somethin’s seriously wrong with me and…” he hiccups, his gaze fixed on the floor of your room as he continues to pace, and you watch him with bated breath, your hand gripping on the edge of your bed to keep yourself supported as you watched him with wide, nervous eyes, “and I don’t know what to fuckin’ do…”
you let out a shaky breath, a breath only audible to your ears as you continue to watch his nervous pacing. in your time of knowing rafe, you’ve never seen him so… fidget-y. you can see how he keeps on reaching for his nails to chew on them, his other hand nervously rolling a certain patch of the hem of his shirt over and over again between his index finger and his thumb.
almost suddenly, he quits with the pacing. he stands there still in the middle of your room, his back towards you. he quits with the fidgeting too, his both hands now resting on his sides, the blood on his knuckles now starting to dry up, and you can see how subtly he is flexing his fingers.
a moment of silence passes over you two. you take in a deep breath and it lodges in your throat as you start to take small, silent steps to him. you stand behind him, so close that with a soft nudge to the back of your head, your nose will press into his back. slowly, you bring your hand up, and as if he’s the most delicate porcelain doll on this planet, you place your hand on his back.
his back immediately flexes, and you hear him take a sharp intake of breath. your hand doesn’t move, your fingertips just gently pressing into the cotton of his shirt. a moment passes over you two in complete silence, and when rafe doesn’t say anything to you, you take it as a small sign and press your fingers firmer into his back.
you start to softly glide your fingertips over his back in an up and down periodic motion, and you hear rafe letting out a strangled exhale. your eyes flicker over his shoulders and you see them relax ever so subtly, the tense posture of them slowly withering away.
you continue with the soft motions of your fingers and rest your forehead against his shoulder blade, taking in a deep breath. your other hand curls around his fingers and you ever so carefully intertwine your fingers with his, not caring if any blood from his hand gets onto yours.
“rafe…” you whisper into the still air of your room. your voice reverberates in rafe’s ears, and he lets out a soft hum.
“turn around please…” you murmur, your thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of his hand. he obliges, slowly turning around and you lift your head up from his shoulder blade. he looks in your eyes through his own bloodshot ones, and at that moment you know you’ve never seen anything more heartbreaking than tears in rafe’s eyes.
you hook your arms around his neck and pull him into a warm embrace. for the first few seconds, rafe is stiff. really stiff. it’s almost like he doesn’t know what to do. but you know you’re supposed to give it time. you gave it time and he was okay with you softly rubbing his back, he’s going to be okay with this too.
and okay he is.
his arms wrap around your waist and his face buries into your neck. his grip tightens, as if he’s afraid he’ll let go and you will disappear into thin air. he lets out deep, shaky exhales against the skin of your neck, as if trying so desperately hard to keep himself in control.
“i’m here for you…” you whisper softly, your fingers playing gently with the soft hair on the nape of his neck.
those words… those simple words seem to set off something in him nothing ever has.
tears start streaming down his eyes, and this time, he doesn’t let them restrict in any way possible. he lets the tears fall, years and years of anxiety, the pain of not being enough, the tiredness of working too hard to prove himself all falling down to this exact moment; the moment where he lets his walls crumble down.
sobs erupt out from his dry throat and he slowly slides down on his knees in front of you, his arms wrapped tightly around your hips as he nuzzles his face into your stomach, crying his eyes out into the fabric of your shirt.
you feel your heart ache at the sight, him hanging onto you so desperately, and you try to comfort him by threading your fingers through the silky strands of his hair.
it’s as if you can see the remains of his crumbled walls around his knees. you can see how he’s completely let himself go, how he’s letting his most vulnerable state come out, how he’s trusting you deeply.
now it’s up to you and only you to help him clear the rubble of the old walls and build new ones, ones which allow him to trust and be trusted, ones which allow him to love and be loved, ones which allow him to appreciate and be appreciated.
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I’m trying my hardest to get back into a proper writing flow, so for now, I hope you enjoy this blurb <3 this is something I’ve been wanting to write for quite some time 💗
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enchantedbook · 7 months
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Art by Edith Ballinger Price, (1897 - 1997)
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