#exquise

[frogmuse]

Beauté exquise ❤️ exquise esquisse ❤️ esquisse céleste ❤️🪽

[oeuvrinarydurian]

It’s ONE WORD WEDNESDAY.

You know the (new) rules. Choose a GIF or image that illustrates, to you, the meaning of the word. We do this obviously under protest, because we have no new half nakedness. Reblog with tags within this thread because we want to see everybody’s choices, etc. 

The past two Wednesday words have been beautifully oblique. I have been giving this a lot of thought, and took @jessieren’s comment that she tries to come up with a word around a photo she happens to want to use to heart.

I hope you find the myriad possibilities in this week’s word. 

Today’s word is…..

Morse.

[the-rad-pineapple]

la douleur exquise

ao3

Will’s fallen in love. With an artist. It’s a terribly dangerous and stupid thing to do, and it’s ruined his life entirely. Will can pick out his artist’s work among his peers’ with ease. No one else can. Otherwise his artist would be caught. Imprisoned. Where he’d never be able to make another beautiful work again. That would be the ultimate tragedy. More tragic than the method Will’s artist uses to create his art. 

Because that is the catch, isn’t it? Creating art out of murder. Murdering to create art. Will wonders which of those his artist did first. Murder or art. 

Or, Will knows Hannibal is the Chesapeake Ripper and is completely in love with him, but he's convinced himself Hannibal will never reciprocate his love.

update post about this fic

[batatoooooo]

[nimto]

Am I trying to relive my 2009 Sims 2 vampire romance short film childhood? Yes. Yes I am.

[fludark]

Her şey düzelmemiş ama bir yola girmiş işte. Sonra tekrar yürümüşüz tuz ve meneviş kokulu malum şehrin kıyılarında. O yarım kalan resmimi tamamlamış. Ben parmağımda emeği, gözlerimde kendi, kitabımı tamamlamışım. Münasebetsiz bir işe kalkışmış, şiirin yanında şair olmuşum. Ayçiçekleri güneşime dönmüş, istemsiz kıskanmışım. Üstündeki hırka olmak istemişim, anlamsız. Eteğinden yıldızlar dökülmüş, toplamış en derinime ilmek ilmek işlemişim. Bir elmayı iki yanından ısırmışız, bir güvercinin kanadına ilişip Eros'un omuzlarına konmuşuz. Tek oku üleşmiş, birbirimize düğümlenmişiz. Masallar alemine yelkenleri fora edip, dillere pelesenk bir destan yazmışız. Nesiller, nesilleri kovalamış, dünyadan eser kalmamış. Annelerin en sevdiği ninni, babaların uykusuz serzenişlerinin en münferit yanı olmuşuz. Bebeklerin en tatlı gülümsemesi, çocukların ilk elim sendesinin tekerlemesi, ergenlerin en sevdiklerine ilk işlenişlerindeki söz öbeğinin vazgeçilmez ikilisi, düğünlerin ilk dansı, ihtiyarların son sözü olmuş, destana dönüşmüşüz.Bir varmışız ama hiç yok olmamışız. Müzisyenlerin kalplerinde mahur beste, ressamların tuvale hunharca ilk istifrası, tiyatrocuların unuttuğu ilk text, hatırladıkça anılan yüzde namütenahi tebessüm bırakan o anı olmuşuz. Sevmiş, sevilmiş yağmur olmuş yağmış, buhar olup uçmuş en şeytansı varlıklarda dahi varlığından şüphe edilmeyen o İyilik kırıntısı ne ise bizde o olmuş, şu canını yediğimin dünyasında sıkı sıkı sarılan son umut haresi olmuş, cennetin en güzel köşesine konmuşuz...

[maybethistimemegz]

The exquisite pain of wanting someone so unattainable

[oeuvrinarydurian]

It’s Morsestache Monday!

I love this scene.

The Morsestache is lush, vibrant and present, glowing in the fluorescent luminescence of his bunker and the vending machines. It’s a standalone character, part Tom Selleck, part Sean Connery, part Sweeney-era, all 1969.

The rest of Morse is tentative and shy, almost childlike, even a little apprehensive-not quite sure what response he is going to receive at this overture to resume their collaboration. 

For his part, Thursday is feeling his years, is embarrassed to find himself benched and demoted in front of his young protégé, and doesn’t quite know how to lead him with these debits on his ledger sheet.

Where you might expect at least a manly handshake, and a shoulder clap to reestablish connection, instead, you have a scene shot with a lot of vertical lines, indicating separation, distance, isolation, and a somewhat truncated, non-linear flow of conversation between them, with awkward gaps and silences, and unnatural speech patterns for them both. Fred doesn’t entirely turn around, and Morse hasn’t fully emerged from his cave. He reminds me of an eel, ready to dart back under a rock. We don’t see them truly face each other. They’re both protecting themselves.

It’s bittersweet and painfully awkward, as the two of them try to navigate this new reality without hurting the other or harkening back to better times which surely both of them miss terribly. 

[the-rad-pineapple]

in a bit of a writing slump, but here's a little sneak peak into the last chapter of la douleur exquise.

[plume-libre]

Ce Noël aura été exceptionnel ✨

Je suis pleine de reconnaissance, apaisée, et surtout confiante ! Bordel, c'est bel et bien derrière moi tout ça. Mon cœur est en joie durant cette période, une première depuis des années 😌

[transparentgentlemenmarker]

Ce n’est pas la douleur dont j’ai peur, je la connais. Ce qui me fait peur, c’est la fin de ce petit et doux rêve. Stephen King

[nimto]

[madame-mesdames]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

me détestez-vous, ma chère soeur / ты ненавидишь меня, дорогая сестра? ty nenavidish' menya, dorogaya sestra?

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

"Ayeshah, would you like to accompany me?" she invites, yet her words carry no hint of genuine inquiry; instead, her eyes brim with deceit, her smile wide with artifice, and her tone delivered an unsettling chill. "Come here," she commands, her mischievous smile belying her true intentions.

ㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

We traverse the labyrinthine forest, venturing forth through great lengths, as an opaque veil of mist envelops our surroundings. My garments cling damply to my body, and moisture clings to my hair. The murmurs of unseen creatures echo, while the watchful eyes of towering trees track our every move. "Let us proceed a little further," she urges, beckoning me beyond the bounds of the mansion, far from my sanctuary's protective embrace. With each step I take in the company of my father's connubial choice, the very air grows thinner, taut with trepidation.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤ

Dusk stubbornly clings to the night, unwilling to relinquish its hold, as the temperature plummets to unprecedented depths. I have never ventured this far from the comforts of my home, especially not at such a late hour. The biting cold pricks at my pallid skin, exacerbating the discomfort of my damp attire. Fear grips me tightly, for I dread succumbing to the imminent threat of freezing. How much farther must we tread upon this path? To what extent shall we journey? I can no longer discern the origin of our trail or the destination that awaits us. How shall we find our way back?

ㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

"My lady, what do you clutch within your grasp?" I dare not voice my concerns aloud on this frigid night, for we are alone, far removed from prying eyes. The woman I am trapped with, the woman who harbors disdain for my existence, reveals a concealed axe from a band encircling her thigh. As my eyes fall upon the gleaming blade, a surge of electricity courses through my spine. —Safety has eluded me, for it never truly existed from the moment I found myself alone in her company; my life has been steadily ticking away its final moments. "I beseech you, Lady Sylvia, let us retrace our steps," I implore, concealing my growing suspicion and terror behind a wavering voice.

ㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

"Do you harbor fear towards me, Ayeshah?" she inquires, her question's answer already known. Indeed, I am beset by terror! Inwardly, I plea for those words, as my weakened knees succumb to the ground, fervently praying for our return. "Do I perceive trembling in you, Ayeshah?" The night is mercilessly frigid, the air thin and suffocating, while my heart pounds within my chest, a desperate battle for breath in the face of mounting unease. I can no longer discern her subsequent remarks, as my waning respiratory affliction drowns out all sound. I realize I must answer as she wishes, in a desperate bid to increase my chances of returning home alive. Tears stream down my cheeks, unable to stem the tide of cold that permeates my trembling form. My vision blurs with the surroundings, yet from my prostrate position, I perceive Lady Sylvia tightening her grip on the axe. "I implore you, please, let me go home." I cry, gasping for air, my hands clutching at the hem of her dress, clinging to life itself—sister, I am paralyzed by fear. Alas, I fear I shall never return home.

ㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

"Ayeshah, do you hate me?" Her decapitated body limps, her lifeless eyes wonder. —Were you not there, dear sister? Some may argue that a twin's perception is scarcely reliable. However, your presence was palpable, a familiar sensation flickering as Lady Sylvia and I delved deeper into the enigmatic depths of the woods. A pair of eyes, a set of footsteps seemed to shadow my every move. Amidst our woodland sojourn, the branches of the trees offered solace, resembling outstretched arms beckoning me to return. Yet curiously, those hands never extended to save me. Tell me, sister, do you truly despise me? Is that why you concealed yourself behind that tree, silently witnessing my brutal demise?

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤ

©️ Penned by Exquise

[maybethistimemegz]

La Douleur Exquise

[punksarahreese]

hiii could we maybe please get a three or five sentence fic (up to you!!) for the hanahaki au 👀👀

Occurs after this

***

Usually after a twelve hour shift Ava was more than ready to leave Gaffney behind, beelining for her bed the moment she could. This day was different though, there was a nagging thought stopping her from closing her locker on her white coat and the shrill ring of her pager solidified that.

She read the 911 - ICU station 2 just as her name was paged over the intercom, setting her back into motion as she grabbed her stethoscope and left her locker unlocked. Latham was at a conference and Connor was in surgery, she only knew of one patient in the ICU that would need a cardiothoracic surgeon; one who had made it clear Ava wasn’t welcome.

“Sarah Reese you better not do anything stupid,” Ava whispered to no one, taking the stairs two at a time and praying to whatever entity may listen that they wouldn’t lose a resident today.

[oeuvrinarydurian]

At the risk of overposting…back from the framer and on my wall in perpetuity. Thanks, endeavourneverland!