#clo bla bla bla

[wisesnail]

why is your art looking all the same every time

Because that's my style baby ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

[rosemaidenvixen]

The Pinned Moth

Chapter 8: Event Horizon

Content warning: death, violence, drugging

Ao3

The glass shattered, the top generator ripping free and flying over their heads as Luz and Willow’s vines yanked it away, the bottom generator being flung to the side by the abomination goo and slamming into the wall with a deafening bang. 

But the glass didn’t fall, shards dangling suspended in midair, the Collector hovering behind them, surrounded by a sphere of shattered glass.

Bizarrely enough the sight filled Luz with a flood of relief. 

After seeing the Collector getting…drained, she’d been worried that he wouldn’t be strong enough to get out of here. But this proved that while they might not be at full power, the Collector certainly wasn’t down and out.

Her bubble was popped when she heard the crackle of a radio and one of the security guards shouting behind her.

“We have a containment breach, Code Black! I repeat, Code Bla–”

A flash and a glimmer and gust of air as something flew by her cheek. From her behind the alarmed voice was cut off by a series of dull, wet sounds, followed by moans and cries of pain.

Whatever relief she’d been feeling turned into something cold and dense inside her belly.

In front of her the Collector was still floating in the air, hands balled into fists, eyes twisted shut and trembling.

She couldn’t tell if he was angry or about to cry.

Then he screamed.

A concussive blast knocked her to the ground. Jagged cracks cut through the concrete floor and ceiling radiating outwards, all the metal pipes and machines twisting and warping as the Collector screamed and screamed and screamed. The formerly silent room full of the deafening shrieks of tearing metal, the booms of shattering concrete, and the Collector’s wails.

Suddenly he zoomed right over her, out the door and into the hall, concrete cracking and metal warping around them as they went. She stared at the empty door frame, ears ringing, as the noises of destruction echoed in from the hall, getting further and further away but never falling silent, the room quaking as the entire building echoed with distant rumbles. 

Panting, Luz shakily got to her feet, from around her she could see all the others doing the same. They’d freed the Collector, but now they had to stop him. Not only did they have to get back to the demon realm ASAP, but the Collector was probably hurt and angry and really really scared right now, and they were clearly lashing out. The people here at the Avalon Corp might be bad but if they just let him rampage– 

There was no telling when he’d stop.

Darius stood and brushed off his cape, he was trying to look chill but his shaking hands and the tension in his face gave him away.

“Alright, this is the part where one of you kids tells me that you have a plan or a secret weapon or something to keep that little cherub from turning this place into a smoking crater with us in it,”

“I…I don’t know about a plan…” Luz tugged on the strap of her backpack, making sure it– or more importantly what was inside it, was still secure “But I do have a secret weapon, but I need to get clo–”

Another quake shook the building.

Eda flapped her wings and shook herself off “You kids think you can handle the Collector?”

Luz, Willow, Gus, Amity, Hunter, and King all nodded their heads simultaneously.

“Alright then here’s the plan, you pipsqueaks get the Collector while me, Darius, and Blight free the rest of the prisoners and make sure none of these corporate jerks give us any trouble. We’ll meet up outside, and I think our exit’s going to take care of itself,”

As if to punctuate her point another deep boom rattled the building.

Luz couldn’t help but wince at the noise “Ok let’s–”

“Hang on,” Alador stepped towards her “The Collector is…lashing out right now, and even if he is fond of King there’s no telling what he might do in this sta–”

“The Collector might be…upset right now,” Luz cut him off “But he won’t hurt us,” With everything King had told her about the Collector she believed that wholeheartedly.

“She’s right he won’t,” Willow spoke up “Just now with the glass, none of us even got cut, that proves he’s still in control, at least enough for us to talk him down,”

Alador’s expression turned into something anxious and strained, but he still gave them a slow nod “Alright, if you kids think you can do this I trust you, now let’s go, we’ve got no time to lose,”

Luz gave a curt nod back at him “Got it,”

One queue Stringbean flew down from her shoulder and materialized into a staff, all the others’ palismens did the same while Eda and Darius stayed in their beast modes with Alador hopping on Darius’s shoulder. 

While Luz got onto her staff King scurried up and climbed onto her back, Hunter hopping on right behind her.

“I’m riding with you, with how much he’s lashing out you’re going to need help getting close,”

“Thanks Hunter,” she turned back ahead, gripping her staff with both hands, sparing one final glance at Eda “See you on the other side Owl lady, abomination dudes,” 

“I did not agree to that name…” Darius mumbled, Eda grinning back and flashing her a salute.

They all flew out the door, Eda, Darius, and Alador going down the hall while Luz and the others split off and followed the Collector’s trail of destruction. Right around the entrance of the room there were a bunch of security guards groaning and rolling around on the ground. Luz didn’t look at them too long, she didn’t want to see them twitching and moaning on the floor, but more than anything she didn’t want to see if any of them weren’t moving.

Even after everything they’d done, what she’d seen, what she’d watched them do to the Collector– she didn’t want to kill any of the people at the Avalon Corporation. She wanted to stop them, make sure they never hurt the Collector or any other magical creatures ever again, but not by killing them.

But…maybe thinking that way was just her being too idealistic. The people at the Avalon Corporation…what they did to the Collector, what they’d been doing to him for months! All the other magical creatures they hurt–

They probably didn’t even believe that garbage about magical creatures being like talking parrots and that they weren’t real people. They all knew deep down that magical creatures were real people, they just didn’t care. They wanted to use them for their own gain and didn’t care how much they were hurt in the process, and lied to themselves and everyone else so they could pretend it was ok.

And frankly she wouldn’t trust these guys with an actual talking parrot, or even a house plant.

Another quake rocked the facility, the already crumbling walls shuddering.

The idea of killing these people still didn’t feel right, but right now there was someone else who deserved her sympathy a lot more.

More cracks in the concrete and twisted metal appeared as they zoomed down the hall, the destruction getting more intense and chaotic as they closed the gap between them and the Collector. This whole place was a mess of flashing red lights, shattered concrete, and twisted metal; echoing with screams and shouts. The twilight sky peeking in through holes in the building that got steadily larger as they went on.

Luz swallowed hard when they passed a set of legs sticking out from underneath a pile of rubble, her stomach pinching dangerously, but kept going without slowing down.

As far as she was concerned the guards and scientists were on their own, but hopefully Eda and the others could use the chaos to help all of the other prisoners escape. Because the way things were going it was only a matter of time before the whole building came down.

She’d seen the Collector splatter Belos, move the moon with a flick of their finger, she'd seen how they’d taken over the entire Boiling Isles. She knew how powerful they were. But in all those other times before, even with Belos, they’d been playing on some level. 

They weren’t playing now, they were lashing out with pure fear and hurt. And the worst part was, since they were probably still tired from having their magic drained, this was a very very toned down version of what they were capable of.

She didn’t even want to imagine what this would be like if they were at full power. Which was why they needed to stop him now–

Luz shook her head to dispel the thoughts as they flew on. 

She couldn’t let herself think like that, the Collector was dangerous, but they were also a scared lonely little kid. A scared lonely little kid who’d spent weeks trapped in an awful place with awful people who hurt him without even bothering to talk to him–

Hearing him screaming as the scientists turned the draining machine on. Watching them chatting casually among themselves, completely ignoring the Collector sobbing in pain on the floor.

Eda’d had to hold her back for that.

They had to get him to stop and get him out of here, for his own sake.

Abruptly the hallway came to an end at a big open room, but it could only be called a room in the loosest definition of the word. Giant gashes were torn in the walls and ceiling, letting in the burnt orange evening sky. Every speck of metal in the room was warped beyond recognition, a few mangled beams still clinging to the walls and ceiling, but all that she noticed second. The whole room was filled with a giant hurricane of debris. Chunks of metal and concrete ranging in size from the palm of her hand to the size of  a car ripping around the room in a violent frenzy. The storm getting larger and larger as more metal and concrete broke away from the crumbling building and joined it by the second.

At the center of it all, in the eye of the storm, was the Collector. Hovering over a group of scientists cowering on the ground. The blonde lead researcher dangling in the air right in front of them, clutching her throat with her legs kicking wildly. 

"--ou can’t– you can’t ignore me any more!”

Luz leaned forward and cupped a hand around her mouth “Collector!”

He snapped his head around, red eyes piercing into her from across the room, and raised a hand, the storm of metal and concrete around them coming to a halt.

Amity realized what was about to happen just before Luz did.

“Everyone watch out!” she shouted

The Collector swiped their hand to the side, the debris hurtling towards them in a singular wave. Before she could even think about dodging Luz felt Hunter grab her shoulder from behind “Hang on,”

He warped them past a table-sized hunk of concrete, and again past several mangled fluorescent lights, advancing through the debris even while the others fell behind. Luz just focused on keeping them steady, trusting Hunter to move them ahead. And it worked. They were only thirty feet away from the Collector now, thirty five, thirty, twenty fi–

From out of nowhere an I-beam broke free from the ceiling and swung down towards them, Luz managed to duck in time. Hunter didn’t. 

He was knocked from the staff, King tumbling down along with him. Luz pulled her staff to a halt, whipping around with glyphs in hand, but before she could fire off a single one a bundle of vines burst up from the ground. Catching Hunter and King in midair. Hunter glanced up, meeting her eyes, and mouthed the word ‘Go’ .

For a second Luz stayed hovering where she was. King really should be with her for this, he knew the Collector the best, he was the closest they’d had to a friend, he was the best one to talk them down. But the Collector’s rampage was showing no sign of slowing down, and as more of their energy came back after being drained it was only going to get bigger than worse. She had to stop them now and if she backtracked she might lose her only chance.

Luz forced herself to turn away from the others and fly ahead. The Collector was only twenty feet away now, but the storm of debris was thicker, too thick to fly through.

“C’mon Stringbean,” she whispered, dematerializing her staff and dropping onto a large chunk of concrete. She leapt from object to object, Stringbean flying just behind her, slowly but surely closing the gap between her and the Collector. They were facing away from her, only ten feet separating them now. This close she could see the lead researcher’s face turning an ugly shade of purple, her fingernails gouging red lines into her throat as she struggled for air, she felt a flash of sympathy for the woman–

The Collector bawling in pain on the floor of their prison while the lead researcher gave her corporate spiel to the investors, Luz forcing a fist into her mouth so her sounds of shock and horror wouldn’t give them away, the lead researcher calmly starting up the machine again as the Collector continued to cry.

Whatever sympathy she was feeling sputtered and died. Luz turned her focus away from her and back to the Collector, swinging her backpack off of one shoulder and around to her front in one fluid motion as she moved ahead.

“Collector!”

His head snapped around, glowing red eyes still shooting daggers into her, but this time she could see the vulnerability lurking just behind them “Go away!”

He raised a hand, to summon more debris or blast her away or turn her into a puppet, but Luz still didn’t slow down. Jumping from rock to rock to get close to him, reaching into her bag and pulling out–

*

The Collector froze, one hand still raised in the air ready to blast Luz as far away as he could. Around him he felt all the rocks and bricks, all the walls and layers of the building held in the grip of his magic go completely still. Everything stopping while he stared at the object Luz was holding out towards him.

It was a plush toy, made of a soft looking gray fabric with green button eyes, two pointy ears and a long floppy tail.

He blinked, the plush disappeared and reappeared. He was vaguely aware of  a thump and a shout behind him as Ma’am hit the ground, but those things seemed far away compared to what was in front of him.

Luz jumped from the rock she was standing to a larger one hovering just in front of him “This…this is for you, King and I made him, we’ve been calling him ‘Reynard’ but you can pick whatever name you want,”

The Collector didn’t move, just as frozen as everything else in the room, eyes flickering back and forth between the plush– Reynard, and Luz, narrowing in suspicion “Why?”

“Oh, well King was telling my how much you liked François so we thought–”

“No, why are you giving this to me, you’re not my friend,” the Collector folded their arms, glaring at her.

Luz flinched at that but stepped closer at the same time “I…I know, but King is, and if you’re important to him you’re important to me,”

The Collector didn’t know what to say to that.

She was right across from him now, less than a foot separated him from the outstretched Reynard.

“Collector I…” she met his eyes, her expression soft “I can’t even imagine how scary and lonely the past few weeks were for you–”

He scowled, bristling up, ready to shout at her that he wasn’t scared or lonely, he was taking care of himself just fine and he didn’t need her–

But that wasn’t true, he was scared, he was so so scared, he didn’t want to be alone any more, he didn’t think he could take it–

“But you’re not alone any more, King’s here for you and so am I. And we can go back to the demon realm right now and leave all of this behind,”

The Collector didn’t move, but felt some of the tension in his belly start to uncoil, making him feel better and worse. Part of him didn’t want to forget this place. Part of him wanted to tear and break and destroy everything and make these humans sorry that they’d ever tricked him. But the bigger part of him couldn’t stop staring at Reynard, imagining going back to the demon realm with King far far away from all these awful humans–

But this was Luz, she was the one who ruined his game, who took King away–

There was no way she’d ever want to do anything nice for him–

This was a trick.

He flew back out of her reach, the room and all the floating rocks and metal shuddering.

“N– No! You can’t trick me! I won’t let anyone trap me ever again!”

Luz struggled to keep her balance on the rock “Whoa– look Collector I…I know you don’t trust me, but you do trust King,” her hand that wasn’t holding Reynard lowered to gesture below them “He’s here and he won’t let anything bad happen to you,”

The Collector’s gaze flickered down, seeing the five witches standing on the floor with their faces turned up towards them. King was sitting on top of the Grimwalker’s head, red and yellow eyes locked on them.

The twisty feeling in their belly got looser and tighter at the same time.

Luz took half a step forward “I know you don’t have a lot of reasons to trust me right now, but I promise, I never wanted to get between you and King, he’s actually told me a lot about you,”

“He has?”

“Yep,” Luz flashed him a tiny smile while taking another tiny step forward “And…and I might not be your friend right now, but I can be, and I want to try,”

The Collector didn’t move, still hovering in place, but on the inside everything felt twisty-turny.

This was a trick, it had to be, Luz was the one who’d ruined everything in the first place–

But he didn’t even ask her if she’d wanted to be friends, he’d just started fighting, she wanted to be his friend–

No, no one ever just wanted to be his friend, this was another trick to steal King away–

If you’re important to him you’re important to me.

But if she’d wanted to get rid of him why had she come for him? The humans were keeping him locked up in the bubble, if Luz wanted him gone forever all she had to do was leave him there. The only reason that they would set him free is because they wanted to–

It was a trick, it had to be, all people ever tried to to was trick him–

…but…what if it wasn’t?

Luz’s face abruptly turned serious “And I promise,” another step forward, Luz and Reynard were so close he could have reached out and touched them now “Even if we don’t become friends, no matter what happens we aren’t going to let anyone hurt you anymore,”

Hearing those words his eyes started to water, his insides fluttering but not in a way that hurt. 

Please let this not be a trick, he couldn’t take being locked up again, he didn’t want to be alone any more.

“Promise?” he whispered.

She smiled wide, lifting her free hand and extending the smallest finger alongside Reynard “Pinky swear,”

The soft and fluttery inside him broke. 

He flew forward past the outstretched pinky and threw his arms around Luz’s neck, squishing Reynard between them and hugging her with everything he had. Just a few seconds later he felt her arms wrap around him and squeeze him tight.

Not alone, not alone, didn’t have to be alone any more–

He buried his face into her collar, now that he’d had his first hug in weeks he couldn’t get enough. He’d spent so long in the bubble, not being able to touch anything besides metal, glass, and pain, he’d forgotten how nice hugs could be. The soft fabric of Luz’s shirt, the warmth of another heart beating close to his own, feeling so cozy and safe–

A sharp sting in his shoulder. 

“Ow!” he twisted around to try to see the source of the pain. Ma’am was standing there on the ground just below them, yellow hair normally so neat flying around her face in wild tangles. She was holding something in her hands pointing it straight up at him. Luz reached over and he felt another sharp sting before the pain faded into a dull ache, getting a glimpse of something shiny and silver in her hand.

Then everything started going blurry. His grip on all the rocks and metal and the building around them flickered, a few rocks and metal crashing to the ground before he regained his grip, flopping against Luz’s shoulder as his head became too heavy to hold up.

He struggled to keep his eyelids open, keep holding all the rocks up, stop the building from coming down all around them. Luz was shouting something, hefting him up higher on her shoulder, he caught a glimpse of her staff in her hands, a glimmering flash of purple and black, Ma’am’s normally cool voice twisted in a shriek.

All of it seemed like it was falling further and further away. They were vaguely aware that both of them were on top of Luz’s staff now, the Collector slumped heavy and limp against her shoulder. Struggling to keep himself awake and keep his grip on everything. Something like sleep, but deeper and heavier, pulling him under.

He couldn’t even move his body anymore, leaning numb and heavy against Luz, keeping his feeble grip on their surroundings was taking everything they had, but even that was fading.

He knew he couldn’t fall asleep, he had to keep everything together….but why? It was important, he knew it was, but he couldn’t think of the reason, the heavy darkness of oblivion pulling on him harder and harder.

The Collector managed one more flutter of their eyelids, getting a glimpse of clouds against a violet sky against the black fabric of Luz’s cloak.

Then his last bit of control slipped, eyes falling shut, a thunderous crash of metal and rock.

And then nothing.

[tiny-naio]

clo y blas

[lets-talk-spirituality]

https://at.tumblr.com/lets-talk-spirituality/httpsattumblrcomlets-talk-spiritualityso-clo/tqe3knisbait

Hellooooo!

Thank you for these music links! I needed some new music to listen to, and not binge green green grass anymore. I vibed with all them but damn Igwe Aka. 💃 I saw some other music below and I did not know Frank Ocean did a version of moon river. 

I’ll def check out that book, I do love learning / reading about music history. I have also been meaning to read The Lyrics by Paul McCartney. Have you read it? I heard its pretty good. 

But I wish had some new music share, but the last few weeks have been busy with work and today is the first quiet day in awhile. I need a vacation soon. 😭🐸

How have you been doing? How’s work? Any new projects? Also if you don’t mind me asking how’s everything going with your guy friend, I hope he’s treating you well and you’re having fun. 

Also have you been following the stuff happening in Astrology? I’m still learning astrology and spirituality. But I got an email from refinery29 line is about to change and the next few weeks are big.

I was reading March 7th was the virgo full moon and then Saturn enter Pisces on that same day as well. Something about Venus and Jupiter?

I’ll link the articles I was reading below if you or anybody are interested.

https://www.refinery29.com/en-us/march-monthly-horoscopes-2023

https://www.refinery29.com/en-us/weekly-horoscope-5-11-march

https://www.refinery29.com/en-us/virgo-full-moon-march-2023

https://www.refinery29.com/en-us/2023/03/11310605/saturn-in-pisces-march-2023-meaning-effects

https://www.refinery29.com/en-us/venus-jupiter-conjunction-march-2023-meaning-effects

And I’m watching these videos below but I had to take some breaks because it’s a lot of info. 

https://youtu.be/4n5nyuORF4M 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nz6FhbBn7V8

https://youtu.be/j9uW4zBckII <— I like her for journal prompts and meditations. 

Hello my love! So good to hear from you. I’m so glad you enjoyed the songs.

🎶🎼🎵 🎶🎼🎵 🎶🎼🎵 🎶🎼🎵 🎶🎼🎵

You saying green green grass made me think of this song.

Which gives me these vibes

I have not read that book about Paul McCartney but he’s def my favorite Beatle, also a vegetarian and Gemini.

I’ve been busy! I was out of town for work and a little pleasure too which was cool. I went to one of the other islands. That was fun! We also did a food distribution yesterday! Which was successful and a little draining but always good to help people.

So I actually had this dramatic drinking wine and crying thing yesterday. Listening to Godspeed. I think I like this guy or at least have feelings and I don’t think he really cares about me. It really hurts me deeply. But more than anything it’s just a continuing pattern of men not really caring about me. I know bla blah they aren’t the right one. I wish I could explain how often men have mistreated me. I’m beginning to truly believe that I will not find anything different. I’m not sure men are capable of being safe. I’m sad about this guy but it’s culminated in multiple men over the past few months just treating me in this very disposable way. I have this hangup around men not wanting to actually love or care about me and only liking the idea of me. It deeply hurts me. So that’s why we walked around the beach drinking our favorite wine out of the bottle and found ourselves crying our eyes out. Still so much grief. Idk I blame the Virgo moon (both my exes have Virgo moons fun enough) but also there is some stuff that’s happened to me that I think might hurt me forever. It’s just that cruel. It’s almost unfathomable. But enough of me going on about how men continue to be incapable of caring about me.

Yes! I could actually see Venus and Jupiter and the sky which was cool which would indicate expansion around love, while also the Saturn moving to Pisces thing happened. Which is about bringing karmic change around the unconscious, delusions and spirituality.

Here’s some songs I’ve been boppin

^^ reminds me of Bon Iver

^^ this mofo song has ear wormed back into my head from the recesses I never asked for but it’s been on my mind a lot lol.

^^also annoyingly in my mind

[444names]

mythical humanoids BUT short

Ado Alafaur Alahag Alti Anak Ant Ast Asten Aswangu Aswarf Balie Balka Balkik Ban Bla Blard Blarf Blibang Blinnix Blins Bogrech Bold Bolf Boltes Bro Brogu Bropess Broppa Brow Brownin Bun Bune Buns Bus Busa Busat Busatyr Can Cang Cappa Cat Cean Cear Cencubi Centad Chalka Chaun Chaur Clo Clopod Clur Clurich Clurit Cycan Cyclur Del Delf Delgan Delgar Demork Demot Demph Devila Devilar Dopolti Dra Draugon Draun Dry Dryan Duda Dududa Dul Duldry Dull Dur Dura Durie Dwangu Dwar Dwart Elittle Emlich Emliell Emlinna Emot Enacie Encubus Ene Enehun Enn Ente Ere Erman Eroll Faia Faid Farpy Fart Farus Faur Fiur Gan Gangu Ganna Gant Gard Gare Gares Garf Gart Garus Gia Giad Giadle Giado Gian Giangu Giantan Gigan Gigo Gigon Gigork Gigotun Gno Gnombit Gobgo Gobollo Gon Gona Goylph Gre Gredcan Greist Grenn Grent Gres Gress Gwist Gwister Haga Hagar Halka Halkap Han Hanix Hant Har Haruda Harus Haugan Haun Haune Hauner Hauno Haunyip Haura Hauraun Hiban Hin Hine Hing Hins Hobla Hoblan Hoblie Hoblin Hoblinx Houl Hould Hull Hun Huner Huns Imo Imon Ing Innid Inoppan Inx Jenacie Jendins Jene Jent Jente Jin Jins Jinx Jinyes Jora Jorc Joro Joroll Jot Jotad Jothman Kap Kappe Kappes Kie Kielins Kikie Kion Kit Knopes Knot Kobbie Koblins Kora Koraun Korauns Korecan Korrine Lafaun Lahalin Lahan Lame Lamebie Laminx Lamp Lantito Larpy Leprech Leprius Leti Lettle Liban Lichaur Lie Liel Lin Linx Lycalka Lycap Lycappe Lyclo Lyclur Maiangu Maid Maidhe Man Mang Mangumo Mannin Mant Manten Mebi Men Menna Ment Mer Mero Mian Miana Min Mine Minx Mon Monak Moni Monid Monn Monome Morow Mumo Mumon Mumorc Mumotun Nacie Nag Nagarf Nak Nere Nid Nik Nikban Ninyip Nixie Nukeres Nukimo Nukimot Nukimp Nun Nune Nuns Nyen Nyes Nyip Nympire Nympiry Nympus Ocear Ocker Ockeri Ockerit Ogga Oggan Oggang Oggarpy Oggart Ogrene Ogrente Ogres Ogummy Ona Onid Ora Oraun Ore Oress Orgeid Orgergo Orgonak Pannie Pel Peope Pess Pire Pirent Piryan Pix Pod Pold Poldra Puga Pugan Pugotun Pus Pusa Pusalie Pusatyr Rehun Reneres Ruda Rududa Rudur Rus Rusa Sala Samebi Samer Sampix San Sant Sat Satyres Self Selibag Selins Selka Selkyr Sid Siress Siry Siryang Sph Sphins Spre Sprecan Sprengu Spri Sprigan Sprin Sun Sune Syle Sylepri Tencang Tending Ter Terigga Terowni Tes Tess Tich Ticora Ticorc Tija Titsun Tiyad Tiyadle Tiyado Tri Trich Trichag Trie Trigan Trin Trito Tro Trope Trople Trownix Tyr Une Unehun Uno Uns Vala Valar Valin Valka Vame Vamer Vamin Vet Vetich Vetito Vettess Vettle Vil Vilahan Vilana Wen Wenagan Wendman Wene Weng Wenni Went Wer Were Wereid Weren Werent Wermaid Wermana Weroll Weroppa Yen Yeng Yenna Yent Yenten Yer Yes Yet Yetit Yettle Yukion Zomber Zombi Zombit Zome

[pompadourpink]

Hi! How’s your day going?✨ I was wondering if you could recommend me some French books you think everyone must read at least once in their lives? Thank you so much!

Hello,

If you're looking for fiction, I would say:

Le petit prince

Le Cid

Bérénice

Manon Lescaut

L'île des esclaves

Candide

Huis-clos

No et moi

Les chants de Maldoror

Le roman de la momie

La princesse de Clèves

Les Fables

Indiana

Lambeaux

Lancelot ou le chevalier de la charrette

Pantagruel

Le comte de Monte-Cristo

Tartuffe

Les Misérables

If you're into philosophy/essays: Discours de la servitude volontaire, Les Pensées, Supplément au voyage de Bougainville, les Méditations métaphysiques, L'être et le néant, Le deuxième sexe, Les Essais, Les Confessions, Les Caractères, Lettre sur les aveugles, La sorcière, Eloge de la fuite, La littérature et le mal, Le mythe de Sisyphe, L'empire des signes-

And if you have time for more: Gargantua, Le chef d'oeuvre inconnu, Cyrano de Bergerac, Bel-Ami, Les fleurs du mal, Nadja, L'homme qui rit, L'élégance du hérisson, Les Chimères, La peau de chagrin, À rebours, L'avare, Germinal, Les liaisons dangereuses, Les Martyrs, Ruy Blas, Les paradis artificlels, Enfance, La disparition (no letter E) Les onze mille verges (for posterity)-

Hope this helps! x

[pronounsrus]

Herb/Spice theme

warning: none

All/Allspice/Allspices/Allspice's/Allspiceself

All/Alfalfa/Alfalfas/Alfalfa's/Alfalfaself

All/Almond/Almonds/Almond's/Almondself

Alo/Aloe/Aloes/Aloe's/Aloeself

Alo/Aloe/Aloe veras/Aloe vera's/Aloe veraself

Ani/Anise/Anises/Anise's/Aniseself

Bay/Bay/Bays/Bay's/Bayself

Bay/Bay/Bay leafs/Bay leaf's/Bay leafself

Bas/Basil/Basils/Basil's/Basilself

Bla/Black/Blacks/Black's/Blackself

Bla/Black/Black cumins/Black cumin's/Black cuminself

Bla/Black/Black peppers/Black pepper's/Black pepperself

Cat/Catnip/Catnips/Catnip's/Catnipself/Catself/Nipself

Cel/Celery/Celerys/Celery's/Celeryself

Cel/Celery/Celery seeds/Celery seed's/Celery seedself

Chil/Chili/Chilis/Chili's/Chiliself

Chil/Chili/Chili peppers/Chili pepper's/Chili pepperself

Chi/Chive/Chives/Chive's/Chiveself

Cil/Cilantro/Cilantros/Cilantro's/Cilantroself

Cin/Cinna/Cinnamons/Cinnamon's/Cinnamonself

Clo/Clove/Cloves/Clove's/Cloveself

Cumin/Cumin/Cumins/Cumin's/Cuminself

Cur/Curry/Currys/Curry's/Curryself

Dil/Dill/Dills/Dill's/Dillself

Dil/Dill/Dill seeds/Dill seed's/Dill seedself

Dil/Dill/Dill weeds/Dill weed's/Dill weedself

Ginge/Ginger/Gingers/Ginger's/Gingerself

Gar/Garlic/Garlics/Garlic's/Garlicself

Gho/Ghost/Ghost peppers/Ghost pepper's/Ghost pepperself

Gre/Green/Green peppers/Green pepper's/Green pepperself

Hol/Holly/Hollys/Holly's/Hollyself

Hol/Holy/Holy basils/Holy basil's/Holy basilself

Horse/Radish/Horseradishs/Horseradish's/Horseradishself/Horseself/Radishself

Her/Herb/Herbs/Herb's/Herbself

Her/Herb/Herbals/Herbal's/Herbalself

Hibi/Hibiscus/Hibiscus'/Hibiscus's/Hibiscusself

Hab/Habanero/Habaneros/Habanero's/Habaneroself

Hick/Hickory/Hickorys/Hickory's/Hickoryself

Haze/Hazel/Hazelnuts/Hazelnut's/Hazelnutself

Ho/Hot/Hots/Hot's/Hotself

Jal/Jalapeño/Jalapeños/Jalapeño's/Jalapenoself

Jas/Jasmine/Jasmines/Jasmine's/Jasmineself

June/Juniper/Junipers/Juniper's/Juniperself

Lac/Lavender/Lavenders/Lavender's/Lavenderself

Lem/Lemon/Lemons/Lemon's/Lemonself

Lem/Lemon/Lemon balms/Lemon balm's/Lemon balmself

Lem/Lemon/Lemon grass'/Lemon grass'/Lemon grassself

Licor/Licorice/Licorices/Licorice's/Licoriceself

Li/Lime/Limes/Lime's/Limeself

Ma/Mace/Maces/Mace's/Maceself

Min/Mint/Mints/Mint's/Mintself

Mush/Mushy/Mushrooms/Mushroom's/Mushroomself/Mushyself

Must/Mustard/Mustards/Mustard's/Mustardself

Must/Mustard/Mustard seeds/Mustard seed's/Mustard seedself

Nut/Nutmeg/Nutmegs/Nutmeg's/Nutmegself

Ore/Oregano/Oreganos/Oregano's/Oreganoself

On/Onion/Onions/Onion's/Onionself

Pap/Paprika/Paprickas/Papricka's/Paprickaself

Pars/Parsley/Parsleys/Parsley's/Parsley

Pep/Pepper/Peppers/Pepper's/Pepperself

Pep/Pepper/Peppermints/Peppermint's/Peppermintself

Pop/Poppy/Poppy seeds/Poppy seed's/Poppy seedself

Pi/Pistach/Pistachios/Pistachio's/Pistachioself

Pump/Pumpkin/Pumpkin spices/Pumpkin spice's/Pumpkin spiceself

Rose/Rosemary/Rosemarys/Rosemary's/Rosemaryself

Rue/Rue/Rues/Rue's/Rueself (rip Rue /ref)

Re/Red/Red peppers/Red pepper's/Red pepperself

Saff/Saffron/Saffrons/Saffron's/Saffronself

Sage/Sage/Sages/Sage's/Sageself

Ses/Sesame/Sesames/Sesame's/Sesameself

Ses/Sesame/Sesame seeds/Sesame seed's/Sesame seedself

Spear/Spearmint/Spearmints/Spearmint's/Spearmintself

Spi/Spice/Spices/Spice's/Spiceself

Spi/Spice/Spicys/Spicy's/Spicyself

Shroo/Shroom/Shrooms/Shroom's/Shroomself

Sco/Scorpion/Scorpion peppers/Scorpion pepper's/Scorpion pepperself

Thy/Thyme/Thymes/Thyme's/Thymeself

Van/Vanilla/Vanillas/Vanilla's/Vanillaself

Van/Vanilla/Vanilla beans/Vanilla bean's/Vanilla beanself

Was/Wasabi/Wasabis/Wasabi's/Wasabiself

Whi/White/White peppers/White pepper's/White pepperself

Worc/Worcestershire/Worcestershires/Worcestershire's/Worcestershireself

Yar/Yarrow/Yarrows/Yarrow's/Yarrowself

Yell/Yellow/Yellow peppers/Yellow pepper's/Yellow pepperself

Zaa/Zaatar/Zaatar spices/Zaatar spice's/Zaatar spiceself

🌿/🌿/🌿s/🌿's/🌿self

🌶️/🌶️/🌶️s/🌶️'s/🌶️self

🌶/🌶/🌶s/🌶's/🌶self

🧂/🧂/🧂s/🧂's/🧂self

🧄/🧄/🧄s/🧄's/🧄self

🥵/🥵/🥵s/🥵's/🥵self

🧅/🧅/🧅s/🧅's/🧅self

🍛/🍛/🍛s/🍛's/🍛self

[cymdeithasceredigion]

Dyddiadur - wythnos o’r Cyfnod Clo - Gaenor Mai Jones, Pontypridd (ffugenw: Blank 6)

Dydd Iau                                           Rhagfyr 31                                                     2020

Roedd rhaid mynd allan i brynu diod o rywfath ar gyfer hanner nos ac anghofio'r mwgwd ond ma' gen i un sbar yn y car. Marciau a Gwreichion yn hytrach na siop y carotsyn. Safon y nwyddau a'r glanweithdra ar raddfeydd gwahanol. Falle mod i'n talu mwy a dyw hynna ddim yn eistedd yn esmwyth gyda Cardi ond dwi am wneud popeth allaf i osgoi Corona. Dal i gofio y poteli pop o'm mhlentyndod. Dwi 'di edrych y "covid vaccination calculator" a gweld bo' fi yn yr wythfed safle i gael y brechiad a fydd hynna ddim yn digwydd tan adeg fy mhenblwydd ym mis Mai.

   Ydw i fod i 'sgrifennu'r addunedau heno neu fory? Wel heno amdani gan bo fi ar fy mhen fy hun yn gwylio'r cloc yn araf dician tuag at hanner nos. Dwn i ddim pam dwi'n aros lan beth bynnag, dim gwahaniaeth rhwng 23.59 a 24.00 yn fy marn i. Ta beth edrychais y geiriadur i weld ystyr y gair adduned, dim ond rhestr arall ac 'rwy'n dda iawn am wneud rhestrau ond mae adduned yn golygu addewid o ddifrif neu benderfyniad cryf. Dim iws rhoi colli pwysau lawr te achos mi fyddai wedi methu o fewn dyddiau. Mi wnes i addunedau amser y clo mawr, dim byd arbennig, tacluso'r ardd, eistedd allan yn yr ardd tra'n disgwyl i ddanteithion gwcio. Hwnna oedd y drwg ond nid dim ond fi wna'th e.

    Un adduned sy' 'di bod 'da fi ers blynydde yw tacluso'r bocsys sy' yn y garej ers i fi symud 'ma a dyma'r amser i ddidoli'r lluniau a gosod nhw yn daclus, efallai hyd yn oed symud 'da'r oes a'u gosod yn ddigidol. Mi wnai wneud un bob dydd.

    Mae'n hanner nos ac yn amser am lymaid neu photelaid.

Dydd Gwener                                         Ionawr 1                                                     2021

Ma' gen i ben tost a'r gwendid corfforol a meddyliol bron fy llethu ond allai ddim torri adduned ar y diwrnod cyntaf!

    Lluniau fy nhaith i Rufain sy gen i. 'Roedd pedwar ohonom yn tueddu i fynd dramor dros benwythnos Calan ac wedi bod yn yr Eidal sawl gwaith ond does dim all wella ar y profiad o fod yng ngwasanaeth Calan y Pab yn y Vatican City. Cyrraedd yno ar hap heb drefnu dim ymlaen llaw. Gweld ciw i fynd fewn a meddwl dim mwy tan i ni gael ein harwain drwy'r cefn a'n rhoi i eistedd ar yr ochr a dyna lle 'roedd Pab Ioan Paul yn pregethu. Mi wnes i astudio Lladin yn yr ysgol ond wnes i ddim deall dim un gair. Doedd dim gwahaniaeth ac er fy mod yn Fethodist mi ges i ryw wefr a thangnefedd wrth wrando ar y person carismatig hwn. Fynte yn gad'el a ninne yn crwydro o gwmpas gan edmygu pensaerniaeth ac awyrgylch euraidd y lle. Allan wedyn i'r sgwar a sylweddoli nad oedd lle i forgrugyn arall gan fod y lle yn orlawn o bobl yn disgwyl i'r Pab ymddangos ar y balconi i godi llaw ac wir, mi ddoth allan a ninnau wedi ca'l y profiad unigryw heb drefnu dim.

Dydd Sadwrn                                        Ionawr 2                                                   2021

Diwrnod arall o ddilyn y rheolau. Am dro o gwmpas fy ardal ac yn gweld amryw sy' fel pe baent ddim yn deall y rheol o beidio symud y car i ddechrau'r daith gerdded.

    Nawr dwi wedi cyrraedd albwm Prague. Wedi bod yna fwy nag unwaith a chael profiadau gwahanol bob tro. Dyw penwythnos ddim yn ddigon i gyffwrdd ar hanes yr ardal a phwy allai anghofio y Brenin Wenceslas yr amser hyn o'r flwyddyn. Do, mi fum i yn y sgwar ac yng Nghadeirlan St Vitus lle gorwedd ei olion. Ond i mi profiad dwysaf y teithiau oedd ymweliad plygeiniol yn Terezin tua 30 milltir i'r gogledd o Prague. Carchar rhyfel i'r Iddewon yn cael ei redeg gan y Gestapo. Llawer yn aros yno ar eu ffordd i Auschwitz. 'Roedd y tarth yn dal ar lawr a niwl o gwmpas y fynedfa gan hanner orchuddio Seren Dafydd. Doedd dim troi nôl ond dim blas mynd ymlaen. Teimlwn yn anhyfforddus iawn fy mod yno ar daith dwristiaeth gan gofio yr holl ddioddefaint a fu yn yr adeiladau. Buom  mewn un ystafell lle roedd cannoedd o blant yn cysgu ac heb air o gelwydd teimlais fod llygaid yn fy nilyn o gwmpas. Allan i'r gwyrddni i fan oedd yn ymddangos fel llecyn o brydferthwch ond wrth edrych yn fanwl 'roedd modd gweld uwchdir i ddefnydd y saethwyr oedd yna i ladd yr Iddewon.

Dydd Sul                                         Ionawr 3                                                     2021                                                                                     

Dim oedfa ar wahan i rai ar Zoom. Mae'n bosib edrych ar sawl un mae'n rhaid cyfadde ond y drwg wedyn yw dechre beirniadu a dyw hynna ddim yn yr ysbryd Cristionogol ond a yw rhywbeth yn well na dim, dwn i ddim. Dwi ddim yn siwr chwaith a y'n nhw'n anelu at y gynulleidfa arferol. Faint o aelodau oedrannus ein capeli sydd yn medru defnyddio Zoom yn y lle cynta'?

    Ta waeth, dwi 'di cyrraedd Venice. Popeth yn brydferth ond drud a drud iawn. Wrth gwrs 'roedd rhaid cael taith ar y gondola, rhywbeth twristiaidd i'w wneud a drud ond pwy fydde'n dod nôl o Venice heb fod ar un. Mi wnes i hefyd gael taith ar y traghetto, yr un syniad ond y rhan fwyaf o'r teithwyr yn sefyll i groesi'r gamlas a'r gost ond yn ddwy euro. Gan bo' fi ddim yn gallu nofio wnes i ddim meiddio sefyll, rhag ofn, ond dyma'r ffordd mae'r bobl leol yn croesi'n ddyddiol.

    Rhyfeddod arall oedd cael coffi drud yn un o siopau coffi  Sgwar San Marco a gwylio pobl un prynhawn ond gweld y cyfan dan ddŵr y bore wedyn. 'Roedd dŵr y gamlas wedi codi ond yn amlwg bod hyn yn ddigwyddiad rheolaidd gan fod bordiau pren wedi cael eu gosod i groesi'r sgwar ond yn rhyfedd ddigon 'roedd rhaid mynd drwy borth yr eglwys. Un prynhawn mynd i ynysoedd Murano, Burano a Torcello. Y cyntaf yn enwog am y gwydr, yr ail am y lês a'r trydydd wnai ddim ond disgrifio fel twll o le. Er yno mae Gorsedd o garreg Attila a'r chwedl leol yw bydd rhywun yn priodi o fewn blwyddyn o eistedd ynddi. Wnes i ddim a tybed ai dyna pam wnes i ddim priodi? Golygfa annisgwyl ond wrth gwrs sy'n gwneud synnwyr oedd gweld traddodiad angladdol yr ynysoedd. Yr arch yn amlwg ar gwch a'r cychod eraill yn dilyn i gyrchu'r teulu i'r tir mawr. Rhyfedd nad yw rhywun yn  meddwl am draddodiadau gwahanol ond angenrheidiol.

Dydd Llun                                             Ionawr 4                                                       2021

Gŵyl y Banc arall heb gyfle i wneud unrhywbeth gwahanol. Sawl un arall fyddwn ni'n colli cyn daw trefn at bethau?

    Erbyn hyn 'rwy'n yr albwm B. Budapest, Barga, Barcelona a Berlin. A'r mwya o'r rhai hyn   Berlin. Yno fel rhan o gôr i ganu The Armed Man o dan arweinyddiaeth Syr Karl Jenkins. Ysgytwol y profiad o fod yn canu fel rhan o fil o leisiau yn Stadiwm Mercedez Benz dafliad carreg o ran o wal Berlin. Wedi'r ymarfer pawb ohonom yn mynd i'r lanfa i ganu ein hanthem genedlaethol ein hunain, Profiad na ellir byth ei ail greu. Tê prynhawn un diwrnod yn y Reichstag ond 'roedd rhaid archebu ymlaen llaw gyda holl fanylion pasport ac er yr ysblander a'r cyfle i weld goleuadau'r ddinas yn cynnau yn drawiadol pwy allai anghofio'r erchyllterau y bu y Gestapo yn trefnu yn yr union adeilad.

Dydd Mawrth                                      Ionawr 5                                                     2021

Apwyntiad rhoi gwaed heddiw ac mae hawl gan rywun i deithio i wneud hyn. 'Rwy'n hynod falch o'r ffaith fy mod wedi rhoi dros i 50 ond wedi colli allan ar noson ddathlu oherwydd y Cofid ond mi gefais garden Nadolig ganddynt yn ymddiheurio. Euogrwydd wnaeth i fi ddechrau rhoi gwaed oherwydd pan yn fyfyrwraig nyrsio 'roeddwn yn teimlo chwithdod bob tro 'roeddwn yn rhoi uned i glaf a dim un rheswm gen i i beidio cyfrannu. Yn raddol dros y blynydde mae'r broses wedi cyflymu a beth yw hanner awr o amser rhywun os oes daioni yn dod ohono. Er gan fy mod yn un o'r grwpiau arbennig nid y'n nhw eisie fy ngwaed bob tro.

    Gan fy mod wedi crybwyll fy ngyrfa mae'n addas fy mod yn mynd i albwm California. Wedi bod yna ddwy waith gan fod un o'm ffrindiau nyrsio wedi symud allan yna ers blynydde maith. Mi fum yn ddewr a mynd fy hun un tro ond diflas y daith heb siarad a neb. Oleiaf fy mharatoi ar gyfer y cyfnodau clo yma.

    Ar un o'm teithiau penderfynu mynd i barc Yosemite a gweld yr arwydd am wylio allan rhag ofn i arth groesi'r ffordd a chwerthin yn braf gan gofio am arwyddion ceirw yng Nghymru ac erioed wedi gweld un. Ond yr un fath â llwynog R.Williams Parry, "digwyddodd, darfu megis seren wib" pan groesodd un o flaen y car ond y camera wrth gwrs ddim ar gael.

Anghofiai fyth y daith lan Cwm Napa ac ymweld â’r gwinllannau a chael diod ymhob un. Fy ffrind oedd yn gyrru a'r diweddglo oedd mynd lan mewn cable car i winllan ar ochr y mynydd. Yn anffodus mae'n amhosib cael y gwin yn y wlad hon. Mi fydd yn rhaid mynd nôl eto.

Dydd Mercher                              Ionawr 6                                                        2021

Diwrnod datgelu gwobrau y Premuim Bonds. Wedi medru gosod yr app ar y ffôn felly does dim rhaid aros mewn gobaith am ddyddiau cyn i'r siec gyrraedd. Yn gweld bo' nhw eisiau diddymu sieciau ond cymaint o gwsmeriaid eisiau parhau gyda'r sistem gan nad ydynt yn gwneud gwaith bancio ar lein. Dim miliwn neu ddau i mi eto'r mis hwn ond mae £25 yn well na dim.    

        Diwrnod tynnu'r addurniadau i lawr. Dwi ddim yn ofergoelus iawn ond yn cadw at y traddodiad o'u tynnu cyn nos Ystwyll. Bu i mi gael profiad un flwyddyn o fethu tynnu nhw lawr gan fod galwadau salwch teuluol wedi gorfodi i fi fod oddi cartref tan yn hwyrach ac 'roedd rhaid i mi wneud y gwaith wedi'r diwrnod tyngedfennol. Ond y goel yw bod gadael un addurn ar ôl yn lleddfu'r lwc wael. Dyna wnes i ac ni weles i unrhyw drafferthdod y flwyddyn honno. Rwtsh llwyr yn te?

    Mae'n ddydd Mercher ac mae'n noson ymarfer côr, ar zoom wrth gwrs ond dyw e ddim yr un peth. Does dim i anelu ato, dim eisteddfodau mawr na bach ers misoedd ac er i rai ardaloedd gynnal eisteddfodau rhithiol roedd rhaid dibynnu ar yr ochr lenyddol fwy na heb. Er mae hyn yn f'atgoffa o gystadlu ar goginio yn Sioe Aberteifi ac ennill Prif Bencampwr Coginio heb i neb flasu un gacen. Tybed yw fy ngallu cogyddol cystal â’m gallu fel ffotograffydd!

[domos-toon-tells]

Jail time blues

Atlas guard 1: Why does he keep crying?

AG2: Every now and then I would play a song, but it only makes it worse. This time he barely made it pass the first lyric.

AG1: What was it?

AG2: Shot through the heart, and you’re to bla-

AG1: That’s not funny.

AG2: What do mean?

AG1: Clov-

Qrow: *just sobs louder*

AG1: See.

AG2: You mean to tell me, that every time I say Clo

AG1: Get out

[technicallyblakebelladonna]

really fucking sucks seeing what happened to f/air g/ame but at the same time, people using that to say that they’re starting to worry about the status of bumb/eby is just completely ludicrous. “bla/ke’s a black cat, black cats bring bad luck” is just something i saw recently and im like ?????

i get it, shipping something and hoping for that to be endgame for q/row.. i get it. it was healthy and good for qr/ow and clo/ver was a good character. but honestly imo, it kinda got hyped up in the fandom way too fast. it has none of the development and interconnected plots that b/ees do.

so seeing what happened to f/air ga/me and immediately worrying about bumb/eby is just ridiculous imo. crwby knows what they’re doing. bee/s arent going anywhere. their relationship isn’t in jeopardy. crwby has built up 3 volumes worth of connected plot with these two, and they wouldn’t throw it away so callously. fa/ir ga/me is NOT “setting the standard” or whatever for how lbgtq+ relationships are being treated. everything crwby has done up to this point (yes including clov/ers death) has given me no reason to doubt them, and especially in regards to bumb/eby.

at this point i can hope that the outrage over fa/ir ga/me is used for a positive change that crwby is made aware of, and that more mlm rep can be introduced later down the line (it would be so fucking lovely for q/row honestly), but until that point, there’s nothing much we can do about the way the story went - aside from doing our best as a fandom for those who are upset by this to do our best to communicate the hurt that we’re experiencing in a clear manner.

and also trusting crwby in regards to bum/bleby, cause they’ve really given us no reason to doubt that relationship

[wisesnail]

Hi there! Love love love when you post your gouache pieces, they're absolutely stunning. Any chance you'll be making fanart in this style? Anyways, thank you for sharing your amazing talent and skill!

Hello! Thanks a lot for this message and for your kind words!

I never thought that there'd be interest for fanarts in this style, but as soon as I get confident with it, I will make some for sure 💙

[ask-the-broadcaster]

fou nd st uff!! rad io eq uip ment, clothes, cam era, li ght s, bla nk ets, ne w he adph ones, can dles, clo thes!!

[lascaracademie]

Cause toujours, sycophante. Clos ton huis, la délatrice se trouve par devers toi.

“Bla bla bla, d’la pookie. Ferme la porte, t’as la pookie dans l’side.”

[apis-in-bello]

Hello ! Here is my first masterpost on French Literature, I hope it will be good. If you are interested, these plays are some of the must-read in French Literature. • Racine : Phèdre / Andromaque / Bérénice • Corneille - La Place royale / Le Cid / Cinna / L'Illusion Comique • Molière - Le Malade imaginaire / les Fourberies de Scapin / le Bourgeois gentilhomme / le Misanthrope / Dom Juan / le Tartuffe • Marivaux - Les Fausses confidences / le Jeu de l'amour et du hasard / la Double Inconstance / L'île des Esclaves • Beaumarchais - Les Noces de Figaro / le Barbier de Séville • Rostand : Cyrano de Bergerac • Musset - Lorenzaccio • Hugo - Ruy Blas / Hernani • Jarry : Ubu Roi • Anouilh : Antigone • Sartre : Huis clos / les mains sales • Cocteau : la Machine infernale

[quepelioseriever]

Louis de Funès

Louis Germain David de Funès de Galarza y Soto (Courbevoie, 31 de julio de 1914-Nantes, 27 de enero de 1983) fue un actor cómico francés de padres españoles.

Recursos humorísticos

Sus principales bases para hacer humor fueron:

su capacidad de gesticulación y de imitación ;

la repetición en una escena de sus gestos o palabras ;

el carácter excesivo de los sentimientos y emociones que expresa, como por ejemplo son el miedo y la desesperación (fingidos o reales de su personaje).

Su expresión de cólera es característica: gruñidos, ruidos con la boca, bofetadas repetitivas sobre los otros personajes, grandes gesticulaciones, etc. Los papeles se prestan de buen grado a este juego: sus personajes son a menudo hipócritas y un poco antipáticos, sin ser malévolos o incapaces de redención.

Disfraces

No dudaba en acentuar hasta el extremo las situaciones cómicas utilizando disfraces. Los siguientes son algunos ejemplos:

el poeta falso y con peluca para aparecer de incógnito en el gran restaurante en el que él es el director ;

los vestidos habituales del siglo XVII de la Folie des grandeurs, y entre ellos, el disfraz de la «Dama de negro» en la taberna ;

la viejita que, en l'Aile ou la cuisse, pedía ser atendida en un restaurante mientras otros atendían exageradamente a un supuesto crítico gastronómico (luego «la viejita» le baja el pulgar en su guía gastronómica) ;

el vestido «loubavitch» en Las locas aventuras de Rabbi Jacob ;

los vestidos de la «Belle Époque» en Hibernatus, donde él debía hacerse pasar por el pretendiente de su propia esposa ;

su vestido en L'Avare es irresistiblemente divertido.

A dúo

El talento de Louis de Funès funcionaba bien en la categoría de dúos cómicos regulares u ocasionales, con actores muy diversos:

Claude Gensac, conocida por el apodo que Cruchot (el gendarme interpretado por Louis de Funès) le dio en la serie del Gendarme: «Ma biche» (Mi cierva). Ella era usualmente la cómplice femenina de los personajes de Louis de Funès.

Michel Galabru, quien hizo de superior en la saga del Gendarme y sirvió como objetivo de burla para Louis de Funès.

Bourvil, con quien se amoldó muy bien en Le Corniaud y La Grande Vadrouille.

Yves Montand en La Folie des grandeurs. Muchas escenas entre ellos son tan célebres como el sueño con las rimas de oro o la limpieza de las orejas.

Coluche, que hizo de hijo de Louis de Funès en L'Aile ou la cuisse.

Olivier de Funès, su propio hijo en Les Grandes Vacances.

Filmografía

Filmografía completa del actor:

La Tentation de Barbizon (1945), de Jean Stelli: Le portier du Paradis

Six heures à perdre (1946)

Dernier refuge (1946)

Antoine et Antoinette (1947)

Croisière pour l'inconnu (1947)

Du Guesclin (1948)

Vient de paraître (1949)

Mon ami Sainfoin (1949)

Mission à Tanger (1949)

Millionnaires d'un jour (1949)

Au revoir Monsieur Grock (1949), de Pierre Billon

Rendez-vous avec la chance (1949): la garçon

Pas de week-end pour notre amour (1949): Constantin

Un certain monsieur (1949)

Je n'aime que toi (1949): le chef d'orchestre

Le Jugement de Dieu (1949)

La Rue sans loi (1950)

Adémaï au poteau-frontière (1950)

Knock (1951), de Guy Lefranc

Les Joueurs (1951)

Un Amour de parapluie (1951)

Bibi Fricotin (1951), de Marcel Blistène: le pêcheur

Boniface Somnambule (1951)

Boîte à vendre (1951)

Sans laisser d'adresse (1951), de Jean-Paul Le Chanois: un futur papa

La Rose rouge (1951), de Marcello Pagliero: le poète

Champions Juniors (1951)

Le Roi du bla bla bla (1951)

La Poison (1951), de Sacha Guitry: André

Pas de vacances pour Monsieur le Maire (1951)

Le Dindon (1951), de Claude Barma: le gérant

L'Amant de paille (1951)

Folie douce (1951)

Ma femme est formidable (1951)

Les Sept Péchés capitaux (1952)

Ils étaient cinq (1952)

Les Dents longues (1952), de Daniel Gélin

Agence matrimoniale (1952), de Jean-Paul Le Chanois

La Fugue de Monsieur Perle (1952)

Innocents in Paris (1952)

Elle et moi (1952)

Je l'ai été trois fois (1952), de Sacha Guitry

Monsieur Taxi (1952): le peintre

Monsieur Leguignon Lampiste (1952)

Le Huitième Art et la manière (1952)

Moineaux de Paris (1952)

L'amour n'est pas un péché (1952)

La Putain respectueuse (1952), de Charles Brabant y Marcello Pagliero: un client du night-club

Les Compagnes de la nuit (1953)

La Vie d'un honnête homme (1953)

Le Rire (1953)

L'Étrange Désir de Monsieur Bard (1953): M. Chanteau

Dortoir des grandes (1953)

Au diable la vertu (1953)

Légère et court vêtue (1953)

Capitaine Pantoufle (1953)

Le Secret d'Hélène Marimon (1953)

Faites-moi confiance (1953)

Mon frangin du Sénégal (1953), de Guy Lacourt: le docteur

Poisson d'avril (1954), de Gilles Grangier: le garde-champêtre

Ah ! Les belles bacchantes (1954), de Jean Loubignac: inspecteur Leboeuf

Le Blé en herbe (1954)

Le Chevalier de la nuit (1954)

Les Corsaires du Bois de Boulogne (1954), de Norbert Carbonnaux: le commissaire

Escalier de service (1954)

Fraternité (TV) (1954)

Les hommes ne pensent qu'à ça (1954), de Yves Robert: le mari

Huis clos (1954)

Les Intrigantes (1954), de Henri Decoin: Marcange

Mam'zelle Nitouche (1954), de Yves Allégret: un maréchal des logis

Le Mouton à cinq pattes (1954), de Henri Verneuil: Pilate

Papa, maman, la bonne et moi (1954), de Jean-Paul Le Chanois: Monsieur Calomel

Les pépées font la loi (1954)

La Reine Margot (1954), de Jean Dréville: René

Scènes de ménage (1954)

Tourments (1954)

Napoléon (1954), de Sacha Guitry

Ingrid - Die Geschichte eines Fotomodells (1955)

Les Impures (1955)

L'Impossible Monsieur Pipelet (1955): Oncle Robert

Les Hussards (1955): le sacristain

La Bande à papa (1955)

Bonjour sourire (1955), de Claude Sautet

Si Paris nous était conté (1955), de Sacha Guitry

Frou-Frou (1955)

Mädchen ohne Grenzen (1955)

La Traversée de Paris (1956), de Claude Autant-Lara: Jambier

La Famille Anodin (1956)

Papa, maman, ma femme et moi (1956)

Bébés à gogo (1956)

La Loi des rues (1959)

Courte tête (1956), de Norbert Carbonnaux

Comme un cheveu sur la soupe (1957), de Maurice Regamey: Pierre Cousin

Taxi, Roulotte et Corrida (1958), de André Hunebelle: Maurice Berger

Ni vu, ni connu (1958), de Yves Robert: Blaireau

La Vie à deux (1958): Me Stéphane, le notaire

I Tartassati (1959)

Totò, Eva e il pennello proibito (1959)

Certains l'aiment froide (1959)

Mon pote le gitan (1959)

Dans l'eau qui fait des bulles (1960), de Maurice Delbez: Paul Ernzer

Le Capitaine Fracasse (1960), de Pierre Gaspard-Huit: Scapin

Les Tortillards (1960)

La Vendetta (1961)

Le crime ne paie pas (1961), de Gérard Oury: Bartender

La Belle Américaine (1961), de Robert Dhéry: le secrétaire du commissariat / le chef du personnel

Candide ou l'optimisme du XXe siècle (1961), de Norbert Carbonnaux: l'homme de la gestapo

Un clair de lune à Maubeuge (1962), de Jean Chérasse

Le Gentleman d'Epsom (1962), de Gilles Grangier: Gaspard Ripeux

Les Veinards (1962), de Jean Girault: Antoine Beaurepaire («Le Gros Lot»)

Nous irons à Deauville (1962): le vacancier

Le Diable et les Dix Commandements (1962), de Julien Duvivier: Vaillant

Des pissenlits par la racine (1963), de Georges Lautner: Jockey Jack

Pouic-Pouic (1963), de Jean Girault: Léonard Monestier

Carambolages (1963), de Marcel Bluwal: Charolais

Faites sauter la banque ! (1963), de Jean Girault: Victor Garnier

Fantômas (1964), de André Hunebelle: Commissaire Juve

Le Gendarme de Saint-Tropez (1964), de Jean Girault: Ludovic Cruchot

Une souris chez les hommes o Un Drôle de caïd (1964), de Jacques Poitrenaud: Marcel

Le Corniaud (1965), de Gérard Oury: Léopold Saroyan

Fantômas se déchaîne (1965), de André Hunebelle: Commissaire Juve

Le Gendarme à New York (1965), de Jean Girault: Ludovic Cruchot

Les Bons Vivants (1965), de Gilles Grangier

La Grande Vadrouille (1966), de Gérard Oury: Stanislas Lefort

Le Grand Restaurant (1966), de Jacques Besnard: Monsieur Septime

Fantômas contre Scotland Yard (1967), de André Hunebelle: Commissaire Juve

Les Grandes Vacances (1967), de Jean Girault: Balduin Bosquier

Oscar (1967), de Édouard Molinaro (+ LdF scénariste): Bertrand Barnier

Le Petit Baigneur (1968), de Robert Dhéry: Louis-Philippe Fourchaume

Le Tatoué (1968), de Denys de La Patellière: Felicien Mezeray

Le Gendarme se marie (1968), de Jean Girault: Ludovic Cruchot

Hibernatus (1969), de Édouard Molinaro (+ LdF scénariste): Hubert de Tartas

L'Homme orchestre (1970), de Serge Korber: Evan Evans

Le Gendarme en balade (1970), de Jean Girault: Maréchal des Logis-chef Ludovic Cruchot

La Folie des grandeurs (1971), de Gérard Oury: Don Salluste

Jo (1971), de Jean Girault: Antoine Brisebard

Sur un arbre perché (1971), de Serge Korber: Henri Roubier

Las locas aventuras de Rabbi Jacob (1973), de Gérard Oury: Victor Pivert

L'Aile ou la cuisse (1976), de Claude Zidi: Charles Duchemin

La Zizanie (1978), de Claude Zidi: Guillaume Daubray-Lacaze

Le Gendarme et les Extra-terrestres (1978), de Jean Girault: Maréchal des Logis-chef Ludovic Cruchot

L'Avare (1979), de Jean Girault y Louis de Funès: Harpagon

La Soupe aux choux (1981), de Jean Girault (+ LdF scénariste): Le Glaude

Le Gendarme et les gendarmettes (1982), de Jean Girault y Tony Aboyantz: Maréchal des Logis-chef Ludovic Cruchot

Distinciones

Caballero de la Legión de Honor (1973, insignias puestas por Gérard Oury)

César de honor (1980, otorgado por Jerry Lewis, categoría César del cine)

Bibliografía

Luis Gasca, Louis de Funès, editor 'Planeta-De Agostini', 1999, ISBN 843958220X y 9788439582205.

Christelle Laffin, Louis de Funès: au nom de la rose, editor 'Albin Michel', 2002, ISBN 2226135170 y 9782226135179.

Stéphane Bonnotte, Louis de Funès, jusqu'au bout du rire, editor 'Michel Lafon', 2003, ISBN 2840989085 y 9782840989080.

Laurent Aknin, Louis de Funès, nouveau monde, 2005, ISBN 2-84736-089-1.

Olivier de Funès, Patrick de Funès, Louis de Funès -nouvelle édition-: Ne parlez pas trop de moi, les enfants !, editor 'Le Cherche midi', 2013, ISBN 2749129753 y 9782749129754.

Jean-Jacques Jelot-Blanc, Daniel de Funès, Louis de Funès: L'oscar du cinéma, editor 'Flammarion', 2014, ISBN 2081342804 y 9782081342804.

[reseau-actu]

Bien sûr, tout le monde connaît l’intersectionnalité, n’est-ce pas… Car tout le monde loue les travaux de Kimberlé Crenshaw, publiés en 1991 : une Noire opprimée l’est à la fois parce qu’elle est femme, et parce qu’elle est noire. Belle trouvaille. Un ghetto noir n’est pas un ghetto blanc. Harlem contre Detroit.

Si de surcroît notre Noire est lesbienne dominatrice, transgenre, handicapée, authentique descendante d’esclave et de culture musulmane — deux termes incompatibles, parce que les Musulmans étaient du côté des esclavagistes —, si elle n’a pas fait d’études mais des ménages, qu’elle est une ménagère de plus de cinquante ans, de surcroît féministe tendance Gouine rouge, et obèse, elle offre une grande variété d’intersections. Elle appartient à une multitude de communautés qui se croisent sans se mélanger complètement : une lesbienne blanche semble bien appartenir à l’un des groupes nommés ci-dessus, mais sa qualité de « blanche » la renvoie impitoyablement dans l’univers des esclavagistes-colonisateurs-exploiteurs. Toutefois, elles appartiennent à un même parti de gauche. Forcément : à droite, on ignore l’intersectionnalité, il en est même, « républicains » auto-proclamés, qui pensent que nous appartenons tous à la race humaine, sous-groupe citoyens français — et ça suffit comme ça. Mais à gauche, ils savent mieux — ils sont même capables de s’intersectionnaliser entre eux, entre Gauche laïque et Gauche repentante pro-islamiste, comme l’ont amplement démontré les mésaventures de mon ami Henri Peña-Ruiz expliquant aux imbéciles de LFI la distinction entre raciste et islamophobe. Même les ministres de LREM n’y ont rien compris, mais on sait que dans leurs rangs, la culture se perd. Peut-être pourrait-on proposer une grande intersection des crétins congénitaux, des imbéciles heureux et des connards de passage ? Vaste programme…

À noter que l’intersectionnalisation a parfois des ratés, des couacs, des hésitations au cœur même de ses certitudes. Un vegan attaquera une boucherie traditionnelle, mais pas une boucherie halal — intersection des groupes dominés. Et les féministes les plus dures ne diront rien du statut d’esclave de la femme musulmane — intersection des solidarités. Elles ne condamneront même pas les 10 ou 12 000 excisions pratiquées chaque année en France — parce que les Noires, hein, sont assez dominées comme ça sans qu’on leur reproche de se faire couper contre leur gré leur petit bout de bonheur.

Et moi ? Blanc (assez bronzé, en ce moment, mais c’est un camouflage qui ne durera pas), mâle alpha et hétérosexuel — personne ne me forcera à utiliser « cisgenre », le mot à la mode pour dire que vous êtes conforme à votre bulletin de naissance. Enseignant — est-ce une qualité… Ce ne sont pas là des caractéristiques bien méritoires. Salauds d’ancêtres qui n’ont pas été esclaves, même pas juifs, et se sont mariés en endogamie, évitant de faire de moi un métis… Ah oui : je suis Corse — et encore, à moitié. Mais c’est une qualité que je n’exhibe qu’à partir de 11 heures du soir, après des libations généreuses au Patrimonio du Clos de Bernardi, mon préféré — le seul à être commercialisé dans des bouteilles de type Alsace. En général, cela consiste à raconter des histoires drôles corses — un exploit, les insulaires ayant à peu près autant d’humour qu’un cul de casserole. Il y a bien (à Bastia surtout) des Juifs corses, mais je ne cache pas qu’ils partagent l’immense répertoire noir des Ashkénazes. Décidément, ma corsitude est un colifichet pour discussions mondaines.

Je ne m’intersectionnalise donc avec personne — sinon des créatures adéquates pour un temps nécessairement compté, homo animal triste post coitum sauf quand il s’endort. Psychologiquement parlant, un homme ne peut pas, paraît-il, s’intersectionnaliser avec une femme — qui vit depuis son enfance sous l’emprise des mâles, bla-bla-bla, et considère sans doute que tout rapport hétéro est un viol, comme affirmait Andrea Dworkin : « Le discours de la vérité masculine — la littérature, la science, la philosophie, la pornographie — appelle cette pénétration une violation. Il le fait avec une certaine cohérence et une certaine confiance. La violation est un synonyme pour le coït. » (Intercourse, 1987).

Alors, dois-je ressentir comme une grave insuffisance le fait de ne m’intersectionnaliser avec personne ?

Cessons de rire. Je m’intersectionnalise avec ceux qui, comme moi, gagnent leur pain à la sueur de leur plume, juste assez de pain pour changer de plume. J’appartiens au groupe global des exploités, des prolétaires sans capital — pléonasme. Des pauvres, ou en passe de l’être. Des classes moyennes dont le pain quotidien tend à se faire hebdomadaire.

Toutes ces intersectionnalisations à la mode servent surtout à faire oublier aux malheureux, auxquels l’appartenance à tel sous-groupe tient lieu d’identité et de poire pour la soif, qu’ils sont les pauvres, et que le seul combat qui vaille, c’est contre les riches. Mais les riches (qui eux ne s’intersectionnalisent qu’entre eux) contrôlent les médias qui invitent et mettent en valeur les représentantes hystériques de tel ou tel sous-féminisme, les « indigènes » qui prétendent se distinguer des Juifs et des Blancs, les homos de tout poil et de toute pratiques, les transgenres et les folles du désert. Offrant à chacun de ces segments mis en épingle leur quart d’heure de vedettariat, pour leur faire oublier le seul vrai combat, celui de ceux qui n’ont rien contre ceux qui ont tout.

La revendication de l’identité sert en fait de potion d’oubli. Cette pseudo-liberté d’être soi gomme la vérité de l’exploitation. Le communautarisme, et les circuits commerciaux qui lui sont rattachés, le rap, le halal, la culture djeune, le tronc de sainte Greta et toutes les dérivations de la colère, ne visent à rien d’autre qu’à vous faire croire que vous êtes vivants, sous une identité subterfuge, alors que vous n’êtes même plus conscients. Se revendiquer sodomite, c’est oublier qu’on se fait enculer, tous les jours, au figuré. Very profondly.

Il n’y a qu’une seule vraie colère : la quasi-misère, camouflée par ces appartenances intersectionnelles et par les colifichets de la dépendance, Smartphones achetés avec l’argent de l’allocation de rentrée scolaire, écrans plasma pour suivre les courses hésitantes des joueurs de foot, tablettes forcément indispensables pour dispenser de lire de vrais livres, fringues de marques et pompes cloutées de zyrcons. Les Gilets-jaunes ont fait peur parce qu’ils ne paraissaient pas découpables en segments de consommation — jusqu’à ce qu’ils soient émiettés façon puzzle par une combinaison adroite du Temps et des lacrymos. Allez, vite, une Gay Pride, ça, c’est identifiable, contrôlable — intersectionnable. Manœuvre de diversion. À Paris, ils y croient. Mais dans le reste de la France ? Guettez la prochaine colère — dès que les féministes se tairont, que les esclaves se tairont, que les bronzés se tairont, et uniront leurs colères contre le seul vrai ennemi, le seul irréductible — le fric.

Jean-Paul Brighelli