Tumgik
#Le Roman de la Rose
cy-lindric · 10 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
L'amant et l'Amour
13K notes · View notes
cuties-in-codices · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
"how a wife tries to learn her husband’s secret"
miniature in a copy of "le roman de la rose" by guillaume de lorris and jean de meung, illustrated by robinet testard, france, end of 15th c.
source: Oxford, Bodleian Library, MS. Douce 195, fol. 118r
190 notes · View notes
nzhong · 2 years
Text
从一幅画说起:快乐花园,玫瑰传奇
Tumblr media
View On WordPress
0 notes
angelitam · 6 months
Text
Les roses de la nuit d'Arnaldur Indridason
Les roses de la nuit – Arnaldur Indridason – Editions Points Les roses de la nuit d’Arnaldur Indridason, présentation Deus jeunes gens sortent ensemble. Ils découvrent le cadavre d’une jeune fille dans un cimetière, déposé aux pieds de la statue du héraut de l’indépendance d’Islande. Erlendur, la cinquantaine, est réveillé en pleine nuit. Il souffre d’insomnie car le soleil ne se couche…
Tumblr media
View On WordPress
0 notes
alittlebit0fmayhem · 1 year
Text
𝙻𝚊 𝚅𝚒𝚎 𝚎𝚗 𝚁𝚘𝚜𝚎
Tumblr media
I siriusly don't know why I've chosen now to fall back into my marauders phase, mais c'est la vie...
(see what I did there?)
I've taken French for literally five years, (I'm nowhere near fluent tho) so I have no idea why it's taken me so long to incorporate it into my writing.
In all honesty, I'm doing great mentally, but I've been pining for some wolfstar! x reader angst, and I haven't really found any that meet my fancy yet soooooo.
Fine I'll do it myself.
Summary: You were a hopeless romantic who had always tended to see things through rose colored glasses, falling in love with the idea of falling in love. Each new infatuation came to you like a fascination ready to be explored, there was nothing you loved more than the head-games of an all consuming crush. That was until, the latest object of attraction became two boys so incredibly and viscerally out of your reach.
Warnings: Angst! (like a lot), Unrequited love, fluff for a mere second, tbh I feel like it is funny at moments???
Once again, if you see any formatting/grammatical errors, please let me know!
Enjoy <3
———–
It had all been fun and games, it never really mattered, until it did.
It was no secret, to your family, your friends, and least of all you. You loved falling in love.
Bi-monthly, and sometimes depending on the circumstance, bi-weekly you waltzed into the Gryffindor common room with a new tale of budding romance to share with your friends. And they'd just look at you and smile,
"Ah, our (Y/N), ever the helpless romantic." they'd say, all the while you'd confirm their statements with a blush or grin.
It was harmless, innocent, you had made quite the reputation for yourself around Hogwarts.
Anyone who got involved with you knew your tendencies, that your heart could change pace like the seasons came and went. Each boy and girl you set your sights on was like a new game of chess for your dazzling beauty and quick wits to conquer.
Which, you knew in retrospect sounded terrible, but you also knew you were young, and that relationships and love should be something to explore, not something to hold you down.
Besides, it wasn't like they didn't mean anything to you, you felt heartbreak when it was said and done with. To you, the growth and rebirth that came with romance was something equally as beautiful as the summits and triumphs.
You had a sneaking suspicion, that if the Greeks and Romans were right about their gods, you had to have been under Aphrodite's watchful eye.
Coming up on your last year of Hogwarts, you had become unbeatable. You had captured so many suitors, there were even lingering rumors of Veela tainting your blood.
Of course, they were all false, though, you'd never tell anyone otherwise. Because, what fun would that be?
You had at least one crash-and-burn love story from every house to tell, it even got to the point that people were courting you with the intention of "taming" your rampage.
Never, had there been a crush you couldn't bounce back from, no matter how close to breaking you came, you never did.
That was until you just had to go and viciously fuck yourself over.
Your thoroughly used vinyl of La Vie en Rose echoed through your dorm room as it spun for what might've been the millionth time, lyrics serving as a cruel jab toward your current situation.
Des yeux qui font baisser les miens,
You hadn't meant for it turn to out this way. For the first time in your entire life, there you sat, face stuffed into your pillow, wishing to Merlin that your heart could just bleed out of your chest.
Maybe then, it wouldn't be something you'd have to deal with, and you could forget about the prospect of falling in love together.
Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche,
It wasn't too late at all, it was just after dinner, and the rest of your dorm mates had cleared to the common room to celebrate the winning quidditch match that had transpired hours earlier.
On any usual occasion, you'd been down there with them, curled up on the couch next to Lilly, Mary, or Marlene, sipping rum-infused butter beer in content.
Instead, you were curled up alone, bathed in the dim light of your bedside candle, shivering from the cold.
Your blanket had fallen half down your body nearly fifteen minutes ago, and yet, the last thing on your mind was pulling it back up.
Voila le portrait sans retouches,
You had made some lame excuse as to why you would be exempt from tonight's actives, claiming you wanted to brush up on your divination for the exam at the end of the week.
Everyone had bought it, too high on youthful excitement and laughter to stop once more and examine the dark circles under your eyes.
De l'homme auquel j'appartiens,
As you stuffed your face further into the cotton pillowcase, you desperately wished the ground would open up and take you somewhere dark and quiet. Somewhere you could forget that you existed, so you could stop feeling like such a horrible human being.
Your mind had been clouded with buzzing jumbled thoughts for what felt like hours, never ceasing to give you a moment to rest. You surely thought your ears would start bleeding from how hard you had been thinking all day.
Quand il me prend dans ses bras,
You had now reached a point, with your uniform discarded haphazardly on the floor, and the sleep shirt you garnered swallowing you whole, where your brain had become filled with white noise.
The only coherent thought you could form right now, was how the hell did I get here?
Il me parle l'a tout bas,
Which of course, led you back into a rabbit hole of memories.
Je vois,
 la vie en rose...
The infirmary's visiting hours were long over, the only company you had to keep was the first year who had fallen out of a tree that was sleeping in the cot next to you.
You should've been fast asleep by now, but you couldn't bring yourself to count a single sheep. 
You weren't there for any real injury, a prank the boys had pulled a few hours earlier had backfired, and you had gotten the brunt of their mistake.
What was supposed to be a "pimple-inducing glitter rocket" (you had no idea how they got so creative) headed straight for Severus Snape, was quickly dogged by the intended victim, and who else was so lucky to be standing a few feet behind him, but you?
After a quick potion, you were fine, but you felt a little nauseous from the drink, and a little woozy from all the excitement, so you decided to stay there for the night.
A decision you were vastly regretting, as it was coming up on midnight and you had absolutely nothing to do. 
You had resorted to trying to write a letter to a boy you broke up with two days prior, he had left on quite a sour note, and truthfully you felt a bit awful for him.
It wasn't necessarily his fault, like many prior partners, you'd just grown uninterested. You figured you should at least leave him a note apologizing for the entire ordeal, even if it did get left in the bin.
That would've been great and all, only, you had no bloody idea what to write.
This had to have been the fourth page of parchment you had crumbled up and discarded next to you. With the thin sheet from the hospital bed drawn over you, you sat dumbfounded, cross-legged with a small, pink, dancing flame next to your quill. 
You had started writing the beginning sentence, but then again, nothing came to mind after that. Your regularly admired face was scrunched up deep in thought, your nightgown slipping down one shoulder as you held the feather deep in concentration. 
You re-read what you already had, and decided to just follow up with whatever came to mind. Perhaps, you were thinking too hard. 
After much consideration, you began writing once more, 
"I'm sorry I got bored of you-" scratch. Nope, that was dreadful, this was a lost cause, and you were wretched. 
You huffed dismally, with no regard for the boy sleeping only a few feet away, and just as you prepared to snuff the light out, and try to achieve some shut-eye, you heard it.
You heard the door to the hospital wing slowly squeak open. 
You paused, who would be coming in at this hour?
You turned to the small flame dancing on the candle seated next to you and snuffed it with a pinch before grabbing your wand which was next to it.
"Lumos." You whispered, as a small orb of light spouted from the end of your wand, you dragged the sheet off your form.
You looked around the hospital wing, from the dozing first year to the grand windows that lined both walls, and finally, to the door.
Though open, no one besides you and the boy seemed to be in the room.
But you were raised by wizards and were best friends with the most ruthless tricksters Hogwarts had ever seen, so you know better than to glance only at surface level.
Slowly, you turned and lowered your feet onto the cold stone floor. 
As you tip-toed around your bed, eyes squinting and wand raised high, you spoke aloud.
"Who's there?" Apart from the echo of your voice, and the murmurs from the boy next to you who stirred slightly, silence.
You stepped forward a few more paces so that you were in the center of the room.
"Show yourself!" You spoke slightly louder and turned in all directions as if hoping to catch any movement.
Nothing. 
You sighed, perhaps you were just a lunatic, and the door had blown open on its own. You turned to walk back to your bed, and just as you took one step, you were interrupted by what nearly made you shit yourself.
"Hello, dear." 
A voice cut through the air next to you, and you screamed on pure instinct.
Well, you would've, if not for the hand shooting out of the darkness to cover your mouth. You swung your wand in the direction of your assailant and were met with a sight completely unexpected. 
Remus Lupin's big brown eyes, illuminated by your wand stared back at you. Or rather, down at you. 
The significantly taller boy was heaving, his ruffled oaky hair falling slightly in his face, which held an expression that suggested you had scared him. The light traced his scars, and his large, cut-covered hand closed around almost the whole bottom half of your face.
You couldn't help but think; how pretty Remus Lupin looked at that moment.
He gulped, a smile tugging at his lips as his expression shifted into one of slight amusement, "Alright love, I'm going to remove my hand now, and you are going to promise me you won't scream at us."
His voice was a soft whisper and reminded you of the rocky seashore you used to visit every summer with your parents when you were little. 
It sent a shiver down your spine, had it always had that effect?
You then reconsidered his wording, Us? Your eyes shifted to his right, and there you were met with an even more surprising sight. 
Sirius Black stood with one hand in his pocket, and the other clenching James Potter's invisibility cloak.
"Of course." You thought.
He stood with an air of relaxation like he always did. His annoyingly beautiful face was drawn in mirth, though far more sheening than Remus'.
His brows were raised, and his eyes regarded your appearance with what could only be described as mischief, as a feathery strand of his rebellious raven hair dipped between his eyes. 
He winked at you after you had seemed to stare for a little too long, causing you to snap out of your bewilderment, and look back to Remus, who remained rooted in the same spot looking at you expectantly. 
You nodded at him, holding his gaze, which seemed far too intense for a boy his age. For whatever reason, he nodded back. 
He removed his hand, and just as he did, you swatted it away and stepped back.
"What in Merlin's name are you both doing here?! You scared the hell out of me!" You whisper-shouted at the pair. The two boys smiled youthfully at you in response.
Sirius finally swaggered forward, and past you, not refraining from brushing against you as he did. He turned and plopped down on your bed, discarding James' cloak next to him.
In his natural air of arrogance, he leaned back on his palms and lolled his head to the side, grinning up at you.
"We thought our girl could use some company, didn't we Moony?" 
Against your better judgment, you rolled your eyes and swayed to look at Remus, who remained smiling down at you. 
Annoyingly, a smile of your own made its way onto your face.
It was no secret that out of the group you, Sirius, and Remus were close in a way that the others weren't.
I mean, of course, the boys, and you and the girls would always be close in your respective ways, but for some reason, you three just seemed to click in a weird, and almost perfect way.
It wasn't like they called any other girl in the friend group "their girl", and it wasn't like you'd go through the animagus process for just anyone. 
Remus bit his tongue, his eyes flickered from Sirius', and back to yours before he nodded once more.
Suddenly, he pulled his wand from his pocket and lit a candle on a bedside table across the room, so that your wand could be lowered and placed gingerly in the pocket of your nightgown.
 As he returned his wand to his pocket all the same, he stepped forward and took both your hands in his own, swinging them back and forth idly, "Yeah, that and we wanted to apologize again for being the reason you're in here in the first place."
"Even though it was James' idea to begin with!" Sirius' voice beckoned from behind you.
Remus shot him a glare over your head before looking back down at you and rolling his eyes, swiping his thumb gently across the back of your hand, "Yes," he droned begrudgingly, "even though." 
You bit your bottom lip while grinning in an attempt to conceal the laughter rising in your throat.
You released one of his hands, still gripping the other as you spun yourself around and face Sirius, who was now sitting cross-legged on the bed. 
You couldn't help the content sigh that escaped your lips as you regarded the look of merriment and genuineness that graced Sirius' face. 
You took turns looking between both boys before saying, "Consider yourselves forgiven, though I have a feeling that wasn't the only thing you came for."
"You'd be right to assume, Lovebug," Remus responded. Another thing, there wasn't a soul on the planet save for Remus and Sirius who called you Lovebug.
It was a title fashioned for your romantic tendencies, and it suited you quite well.
Sirius suddenly hopped to a stand, before taking his wand to poke the sleeping boy's foot ever so slightly, "We are taking you to the astronomy tower, to watch the crescent moon." He said nonchalantly, you scoffed in disbelief. 
"Right now? But Sirius I'm in a bloody nightgown, not to mention barefoot, and all my things-"
You were cut off by Remus, whose arms had suddenly wrapped around your shoulders, "Relax darling, we'll have you back before the sun rises, maybe we'll even take your things and you back to the dorm where you belong." 
You chuffed, "But-"
"As for the nightgown and lack of shoes, we can assure you, love, you look absolutely smashing in it, and have cute enough feet for it not to be too grotesque." Sirius winked.
You sighed and tried to ignore the light blush that settled across your cheeks, drowned out by the darkness.
You groaned petulantly like a child as you struggled to come up with a counterpoint, and leaned into Remus' lankily muscular build.
"C'mon Darling, it's your favorite moon cycle, and we know you must be bored to tears." 
You froze as Remus' smooth voice resonated against the shell of your ear, his breath fanning over you slightly.
It was then you became aware of just how dipped in his scent you were, it completely engulfed you, the smell of pinewood, candle wax, and parchment. 
You cleared your throat, before Sirius interjected once more, "Evidently, by the literary devices she's turned to to cope."
Your eyes widened, as your headshot over to Sirius, who had now grabbed and held the parchment you had forgotten you left on your bed.
His hair created a curtain around his face as he leaned over to read it, still though you could make out the shit-eating grin on his face as he did so. 
"Dear Callum, I know I'm probably the last person you want to hear from at the moment, but I'm sorry I got bored of you-" He read aloud in a high-pitched voice before he broke down into laughter.
You wrenched out of Remus' hold before surging forward and snatching the paper from his hand and shoving him slightly.
"Give me that you oaf!" You hissed lowly.
He snicked and pulled you into a hug, "Oh come now, you know I'm only joking lovely, please don't leave me! I promise never to bore you!" He sang, you elbowed him in rebuttal.
"Alright, fine! FINE! I will go, will you stop it now?!" You snapped, his laughter eventually died down as he hummed and looked down at you.
You craned your neck to meet his gaze, "Ah, knew you'd come around Lovebug, right then off we go!" He announced before spinning you and setting you down on the ground.
You watched as he practically skipped over to Remus, before grabbing the boy by the jaw and pulling him into a simple kiss.
Yet another symbol of your closeness, you were one of the only ones who knew that the two were more than just friends.
Remus hummed before returning the kiss and pulling away.
Sirius leaned into his neck, "Told you she'd come around Moony."
Remus licked his lips and gave you a half-lidded once over, not even he could contain the dim beam that spread across his face. 
"Course she did, she's our girl after all." He mused.
In an instant, the smile dropped from your face.
It was then, for the first time in a long time, you felt something. Like a punch in the gut, one that you knew familiarly, but not to this extent. 
The air in your lungs seemed to leave you all at once, as a cold hotness spread over you.
Your vision began to tunnel, as your ears filled with wind, and you became all too aware of the sweat that coated your palms.
"No," you thought, "no way."
 Your heartbeat quickened, and you desperately hoped that with Remus' advanced senses, he couldn't hear it. 
There was no way this was happening, not to you, not right now.
It was such a simple sentence, one you were sure he and Sirius had uttered to you before, so why did it ignite this feeling in you?
Why, did you have to have such a reaction, and why now? 
You wiped the sweat that sprouted from your palms on your nightgown and could feel some new form on the nape of your neck.
It felt as though the air of comfortability from earlier had evaporated, replaced with a thick blanket of awkwardness and anxiety, at least on your part.
The boys you had leaned into so carelessly before, had now become the two people you wanted to be furthest from.
You knew this feeling, you knew what it was, and normally, you'd welcome it like an old friend. But not this time, not for them. 
Why, did it have to be them?
"(Y/N)" Sirius' question shook you from your state of silent panic. You blinked and swallowed a thick glob of your saliva. 
"Yeah?" Your voice was far less even than it had been a second ago, it wavered and shook much without you meaning it to.
The boys looked at you with confusion drawn over their expressions, "You ready to go?" Remus said as if you were some dimwitted puppy. 
Your eyelids flickered, and you took a deep breath. "Yeah, sorry, I just zoned out, must be the after-effects of the potion." You lied through your teeth. 
They nodded at you, still seeming suspicious of your behavior but not questioning the matter further.
Each boy extended a hand, and you almost let out a shattered sigh as you slowly stepped forward and took each hand in your own.
As you three began walking to the door, and you plastered a smile on your face, you began to hear your voice screaming inside your head.
In an instant, you knew what you had done. 
You'd just gone and fallen in love with two boys you knew you couldn't have.
That exchange had transpired a week ago, and ever since then, you'd been spiraling.
You felt hot tears gather in your eyes as you recounted it redundantly. In your mind, there were layers to how fucked up this was.
You can't like two people at once, that's utterly selfish. You berated yourself, especially since those two people are dating each other, not to mention two boys! Not to mention even more two boys that just so happen to be your best friends!
You groaned as you rubbed your temples, blinking back the tears.
Any logical, normal person would've taken the high road, and just silently waited until this infatuation passed.
But as you were reminded incessantly, you were the furthest from logical, or normal.
The longer you lingered with this knowledge, the more unbearable it became.
Every moment you spent trying not to think about Sirius or Remus, was another moment in which your little crush turned into a full-blown obsession.
At first, you had resigned to pretending as if nothing was amiss, forcing smiles and hoping they couldn't tell. But every day you felt your resolve weakening, and so as of today, you had completely avoided them at all costs.
Then, you just had to let your friends drag you to that stupid quidditch match.
You had managed to sit as far from Remus as possible and tried to push through through the awkwardness, which worked for awhile, and then the world had to go and give you another slap in the face.
After James had caught the snitch, you were dealt the misfortune of locking eyes with Sirius, who, high on excitement as he was, decided to beam at you, and blow you a fucking kiss.
Damn Sirius Black for being the natural flirt he was, and damn his stupidly perfect face.
You knew in hindsight it was just Sirius being Sirius, he was head over heels for Remus.
It's not like he knew how much he made your heart flutter from that simple act alone.
But the side effects of it were damning, and whilst you got by with averting eye contact and keeping to yourself for the walk back to the castle, you refused to risk a much more obvious reaction given the boys pull anything else.
You sighed, again, as you shut your eyes and listened to the last lyric that played from your vinyl.
Et, dès que je l'apercois, alors je sens en moiI, mon coeur qui bat...
You bit the inside of your cottoned mouth, and gulped sending a sting down your dry throat.
Your favorite song was beginning to sound like torture every time you translated its meaning in your head.
Yes, you thought bitterly, I see life through rose-colored glasses, and look where that's got me now.
Finally, you opened your eyes. God, your side of the dorm was a mess, Lily was going to kill you.
Not that it wouldn't be deserved, you shot at yourself.
With all the remaining strength in your body, you pushed yourself off your bed. The needle on your record player had finally reached the center of the vinyl, meaning it was time for you to get up and move it again.
As your feet landed on the cold floor, you winced, rolling your ankles to re-attune your body to movement.
After a moment you stood, not missing the blackness that pinched at your view from your lightheaded state. You began to walk across the room, ignoring the cries that sounded from your locked joints.
Your brain felt fuzzy, and your movements were reduced to emotionless and empty.
You stopped in front of the table on which your record player sat, and lifted a weak, trembling hand to the needle.
And as you picked up, and moved it to the edge, allowing the song to replay once more, you heard the startling sound of the door creaking open.
You didn't bother to look at her, instead, you closed your eyes and inhaled in preparation for what was to come.
"Godrick, (Y/N) the room's a mess, what have you been doing all this time?!"
Lily's maternal croon should've at least offered a morsel of comfort, and yet, all it did was cause more tears to sting the corners of your eyes.
Your ears filled with ocean sounds as Lily began to parade around the room, picking up all your discarded articles of clothing, too lost in her own ramblings to notice the air of gloom that hung over you.
You bit your lip as you shut your eyes tightly, trying desperately to keep any more tears from running freely down your rosy cheeks.
Lily had this way about her, she was too comforting, too emotion-invoking.
You wished she would've just stayed downstairs for one more hour, at least then you would've more had time to collect yourself.
But she didn't, she was here, and she was going to witness you in the state that you were; raw, terrified, and utterly humiliated.
Your mind had turned into a wind tunnel of thoughts and feelings, preventing you from noticing how Lily had halted her movements and slighted her gaze to your now shaking form.
"(Y/N)? Lovie? Are you alright?"
You opened your eyes and looked up at the ceiling for one moment, teeth biting down harder on your trembling lip.
Finally, you turned and met her head-on.
Lily gasped in spite of herself, "Oh, Y/N." she whispered, brows stitched in worry, emerald eyes widening.
Before you could blink, she was on you. Lean arms enclosing your figure, one placed comfortingly behind your head, the other wrapped around your waist.
"Darling, what's happened?" Her soft voice resonated in your ear.
You couldn't bring yourself to respond, burrowing your head in her shoulder, shaking it slightly.
Your arms had returned the embrace tenfold, hands grasping her sweater tightly like she was the only thing in the universe holding you together at that moment.
Before you could stop yourself, soft hiccups began to escape you, and it was then, as Lily pulled away and began to wipe at the wetness under your eyes, you realized, you had to tell her.
You allowed yourself to be guided to her side of the room and sat down on her plush, quilted bed.
Blinking through tears you tried to focus on Lilly's concerned face, as she pushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, and took your hand.
"Y/N, please, tell me what's the matter." Lily begged quietly as she smoothed her thumb over the back of your hand.
The moonlight from the window above her bed was nearly the only thing that illuminated the space around you, sheening on your variability, and exposing your flaws.
Your eyes flickered as you took a deep breath and attempted to collect your thoughts, and organize them into something, anything, clear enough to be spoken aloud.
"I..." Your voice quietly resonated, coarse and croaky from hours of wailing and weeping. You fought against the tightness in your throat, encouraged by Lily's soft eyes, and comforting presence.
After a moment, you cleared your throat and tried again.
You began with a sigh, focusing on the way Lily smelled of vanilla, allowing her scent to calm your flurrying mind.
"Lily," you said, much quieter this time, "I've done something terrible."
Lily's brows furrowed once more, in confusion this time. "What can you mean?" she replied, ever inquisitive and eager.
You inhaled and exhaled slowly, here it goes.
You gripped her hand like it was your lifeline, "I've..." you paused.
"I've fallen in love again."
Quiet settled over the room, blanketing the two girls.
Lily blinked, face going blank.
Before she could stop herself, a snort escaped from her mouth. Her demeanor of worry was now replaced with one of disbelief and wry amusement.
"You must be joking, seriously (Y/N)? That's all this is about? another silly little fling?" She teased, now finding this entire situation utterly ironic.
You huffed, frustration becoming your face. "No," You interjected, voice strained and tight.
"It's not- God, it's not that I've fallen in love again, it's with who!"
Lily raised a brow, squinting, lip quirking. "Right then," she teased, "Tell me, who is the soul lucky enough to hold your affections?"
You were glaring and lifting yourself off the bed in an instant. Bitterness bitting at your tongue.
"Forget it." You bit.
Lily sighed and grasped your hand before you could get even two steps. "(Y/N)," she groaned in defeat, feeling instant guilt as more tears glided down your chin.
"I'm sorry, that was cruel of me. You can tell me, and I won't make fun of you."
You eyed the redhead suspiciously, "Promise?" You quipped. Lily smiled, "Promise."
You bit the inside of your cheek and returned to your spot on the bed.
You huffed and picked away at some of the skin around your fingernails anxiously. "You really promise not to judge?" you mumbled, looking up at her through your wet lashes.
Lily nodded, "I promise lovie, you can tell me." her smile was the reassurance you needed, but it didn't lessen the ache in your heart.
You shut your eyes, annoyed at the feeling of more tears gushing down your neck.
You covered your face in your palms, before admitting out loud the confession you'd been reckoning with for days.
"I fucked up," you said through tears as you lifted your eyes to meet Lily's, "I've fallen in love with Remus Lupin," you watched Lily's eyes turn into saucers, "And, Sirius fucking Black."
In any other situation, you would've laughed at how Lily's jaw fell open, but this was no laughing matter. Her hand flew to hover above her mouth, and for the first time in all that you've known her, Lily Evans had been rendered speechless.
And you, were growing more anxious by the moment. Tears were now fully cascading down your face, sobs and hiccups wrenching from your throat.
"Say something!" You begged, her silence was making you feel worse by the second.
Lily jumped, broken out of her state of shock. She closed and open her mouth, trying to find the right words, before she so eloquently settled on,
"Merlin's fuck, (Y/N)."
You cried harder if that was even possible.
"I know, I know, it's horrible isn't it?" You whined.
After a week of keeping this all bottled up, it was now all coming crashing down on you.
You felt your heart ripping at the seams, in such a short period of time, these boys had suddenly had the most magnifying attraction you had felt.
You felt so utterly stupid, had you always liked them? Did it just so happen that that fateful night was your moment of realization?
Either way, neither explanation lessened your suffocating distress.
As you let your head fall into your hands, Lily grabbed your shoulders, rubbing them up and down encouragingly.
"Well, I won't lie to you sweetheart, it doesn't look amazing." She winced, resolving to pull your sobbing body to hers, wrapping her arms around you once more.
Lily knew the weight of this situation, because she knew Remus and Sirius, more especially, the relationship the two shared.
"When did you find this out?" She asked softly. 
You sniffed, "A week ago, I think? Oh Merlin, maybe I've always known but was never ready to admit it to myself." 
Lily sighed thoughtfully, before replying. "Well, do you want to tell them?" 
You thought for a moment, before shaking your head in defeat.
"It's no use Lils, even in my wildest dreams, they're out of my reach. I can't have them, and the fact that I even want them makes me feel like the biggest arsehole in the world."
Lily stayed quiet as you continued your rant, allowing you to verbalize all the feelings that had been festering in your heart. 
"Godrick, they're so perfect for each other, it's almost unreal. You've seen them together, they look as if they were made for each other. Not only that, but they fought so hard for the right to be together. And who the hell am I to come in here and even consider ruining that? I must be the most selfish girl in the world." 
You felt your heart break a little more with each word, but you couldn't stop yourself, you had to let these thoughts surface. 
"They trusted me," you sobbed, "every deep, grimy secret that they had no obligation to share, they trusted me enough to tell. All they've ever wanted from me was a friend, someone to be their home, and now I've gone and ruined it."
"You don't know that-" Lily tried, but you interrupted before she could even finish the sentence.
"Yes, I do! You know how I get Lily, even about simple crushes they become all I can think about. I will not be able to stop thinking about them, and every single time they feel comfortable enough to be affectionate in front of me, I'll break all over again."
Finally, you paused and took a deep breath.
"There is absolutely no situation in which this can turn out alright for me."
Lily felt her heartache for you as she assessed the sheer pain in your voice.
However, this situation was difficult, because she had to consider Remus and Sirius' well-being too.
She tapped a finger on the bare skin of your arm. "You know what I think?" She finally said.
You lifted your head and met her calculating eyes with your own. "What?" you asked pathetically. 
Lily rotated her jaw, "I think, that this situation is much bigger than you or I, so before we go making blind assumptions, we need to let Remus and Sirius speak for themselves."
She paused, "(Y/N), I know you're scared, but you have to tell them."
You inhaled deeply, eyes flickering with fear.
You were scared, terrified actually. But, the more you thought about it, the more you realized what you had known all this time.
Lily was right, they needed to know. 
You couldn't just disappear from their lives without giving them a floor to speak their peace, it wasn't right.
Doing that, you decided, would truly be the cruelest thing you could possibly do.
You huffed, before blinking away the last of your tears and taking a moment to wipe the mess off your face.
Lily sat and watched you as you began to collect yourself, leaning on her own arm for support. 
After a moment, when you felt as though you were moderately put together, you shook your hands out and breathed deeply for that last time.
You looked to Lily, there were still a million questions you wished could be answered, but for tonight, as you checked the clock and saw it was coming up on 1:00 A.M., you settled for just one.
"Do you think they realize I've been avoiding them?" You cringed.
Lily opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, a sharp knock sounded at the door.
"(Y/N) (L/N), you open this door right now, or so help me Merlin, I will blow it down!" Sirius' muffled yell sounded from the other side of the aged wood.
Then, Remus chimed in. "You know he'll do it love, so there's no use in fighting."
You froze, and for a moment as Lily's expression turned into that of a deer in headlights, you thought maybe the whole universe froze with you.
Your blood ran cold as they continued raving about their usual nonsense, and as you saw the door handle rattle, you and Lily finally spoke in unison.
"Oh, fuck."
597 notes · View notes
Text
there's a (justified) focus on that one particular illustration from le Roman de la Rose in the general public, but i feel like we need to talk about this one from the same manuscript (BNF français 25526) some more
Tumblr media
don't ask me wtf is going on here
13 notes · View notes
daughterofhecata · 3 months
Text
Reading List 2023
Ocean Vuong: Night Sky With Exit Wounds
Alena Mornštajnová: Hana
Wolfgang Benz: Theresienstadt. Ein Geschichte von Täuschung und Vernichtung.
Jáchym Topol: Die Teufelswerkstatt [org. title: Chladnou zemí]
Ocean Vuong: Time is a Mother
Richard Siken: Crush
Ben Nevis: Die Drei ??? Die Yacht des Verrats
Frank Wedekind: Frühlings Erwachen (reread)
James Ellroy: Die Schwarze Dahlie [org. title: The Black Dahlia]
André Marx: Die Drei ??? und der Puppenmacher
Evelyn Boyd: Rocky Beach Crimes #2. Mord unter Palmen.
Peter Hallama: Nationale Helden und jüdische Opfer. Tschechische Repräsentationen des Holocaust.
Brigitte Johanna Henkel-Waidhofer: Die Drei ??? Späte Rache
Kim Newman: Professor Moriarty. The Hound of the D‘Urbervilles. (reread)
Vera Schiff: The Theresienstadt Deception. The Concentration Camp the Nazis Created to Deceive the World.
Evelyn Boyd: Rocky Beach Crimes #2. Mord unter Palmen. (reread)
Josef Bor: Die verlassene Puppe [org. title: Opuštěná panenka]
Kari Erlhoff: Rocky Beach Crimes #1. Tödliche Törtchen.
Susanna Partsch: Wer klaute die Mona Lisa? Die berühmtesten Kunstdiebstähle der Welt.
Kathy Reichs: Virals #1. Tote können nicht mehr reden. [org. title: Virals] (reread)
Arthur Schnitzler: Reigen (reread)
Evelyn Boyd: Die Drei ??? Teuflisches Foul
Faye Kellerman: Der Zorn sei dein Ende [org. title: The Hunt]
J.D. Salinger: The Catcher in the Rye
Władysław Szlengel: Was ich den Toten las [org. title: Co czytałem umarłym]
Hanna Krall: Dem Herrgott Zuvorkommen [org. title: Zdążyć przed Panem Bogiem]
Ursula K. Le Guin: The Dispossessed
Thomas Mann: Der Tod in Venedig
James Oswald: Natural Causes. An Inspector McLean Novel.
Sylvia Plath: The Bell Jar (reread)
Christoph Dittert: Die Drei ??? Melodie der Rache
Maria Rolnikaitė: Mein Tagebuch [org. title: Ja dolžna rasskazat']
Mark Thompson: Leatherfolk. Radical Sex, People, Politics and Practice.
James Baldwin: Giovanni‘s Room
Christopher Tauber, Hanna Wenzel: Rocky Beach. Eine Interpretation.
Lorraine Vivian Hansberry: A Raisin in the Sun
Jonathan Kellerman: Unnatural History. An Alex Delaware Novel.
Robert Arthur: Die Drei ??? und die Geisterinsel. [org. title: The Three Investigators in the Secret of Skeleton Island]
Evelyn Boyd: Rocky Beach Crimes #3. Eiskalter Rausch.
André Marx: Die Drei ??? Labyrinth der Götter
John Barth: Lost in the Funhouse
Langston Hughes: Selected Poems of Langston Hughes.
Claude McKay: Harlem Shadows. The Poems of Claude McKay.
Jonathan Kellerman: Exit. Ein Alex Delaware Roman. [org. title: Devil‘s Waltz. An Alex Delaware Novel.] (reread)
David Henry Hwang: M Butterfly
James Oswald: The Book of Souls. An Inspector McLean Novel.
Jonathan Kellerman: Time Bomb. An Alex Delaware Novel. (reread)
Manuela Günter: Überleben schreiben. Zur Autobiographik der Shoah.
Birgit Kröhle: Geschichte und Geschichten. Die literarische Verarbeitung von Auschwitz-Erlebnissen.
Alexander F. Spreng: Der Fluch (reread)
Sibylle Schmidt: Zeugenschaft. Ethische und politische Dimensionen.
Sibylle Schmidt: Ethik und Episteme der Zeugenschaft
Kari Erlhoff & Christoph Dittert: Die Drei ??? und die Salztote
Jeanette McCurdy: I‘m Glad My Mom Died
E.T.A. Hoffmann: Der Sandmann
Hendrik Buchna: Die Drei ??? Drehbuch der Täuschung
Michael Scott: The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel #2. The Magician. (reread)
Alain Locke: The New Negro
Mascha Kaléko: Großstadtliebe. Lyrische Stenogramme.
Marco Sonnleitner: Die Drei ??? Der Tag der Toten
Georg Heym: Gedichte [herausgegeben von Stephan Hermlin]
Rose Ausländer: Hinter allen Worten. Gedichte. [herausgegeben von Helmut Braun]
Vladimir Nabokov: Lolita
Paul Celan: Ausgewählte Gedichte. Zwei Reden. [herausgegeben von Günther Busch]
Rich Cohen: Lake Shore Drive [org. title: Lake Effect]
Jan T. Gross: Neighbors. The Destruction of the Jewish Community in Jedwabne, Poland.
Kathy Reichs: Virals #2. Nur die Tote kennt die Wahrheit. [org. title: Seizure]
Jonathan Kellerman: Bones. An Alex Delaware Novel. (reread)
Akwaeke Emezi: You made a Fool of Death with your Beauty
Friedrich Schiller: Maria Stuart
Bret Easton Ellis: American Psycho
Christian Handel: Die Hexenwald-Chroniken #2. Palast aus Gold und Tränen.
Maurice Leblanc: Arsène Lupin und der Schatz der Könige von Frankreich [org. title: L'Aiguille creuse]
E.T.A. Hoffmann: Nussknacker und Mausekönig
Marco Sonnleitner: Die Drei ??? Panik im Park
Ben Nevis: Die Drei ??? Tal des Schreckens
Michael Borlik: Ihr mich auch
Robert Arthur: Die Drei ??? und der grüne Geist [org. title: Alfred Hitchcock and the Three Investigators in the Mystery of the Green Ghost]
Barbara Köhler: Niemands Frau. Gesänge.
Christoph Dittert: Die Drei ??? Hotel der Diebe
Cornelia Funke: Tintenwelt #4. Die Farbe der Rache.
DNF:
Thomas Ziebula: Paul Stainer #1. Der rote Judas.
Faye Kellerman: Mord im Garten Eden [org. title: The Garden of Eden and Other Criminal Delights]
7 notes · View notes
revelio-magicae · 9 months
Text
Tumblr media
.·:*¨ Revelio Magicae .˚ˑ༄
CW:: univers Harry Potter nb — Revelio Magicae s'inspire librement de la saga de romans Harry Potter, pour autant nous tenons à rappeler que nous ne tolérons en aucun cas les propos transphobes et les prises de position de l'autrice. Nous vous invitons à ne nous rejoindre que si vous êtes certain·e·s d'être en mesure d'évoluer sereinement dans ce contexte.
Projet administré par Cap Diamant, Shadow et HERESY. nous venons vous présenter aujourd'hui .˚✧ REVELIO MAGICAE ✧・゚un forum inspiré de l'univers HP mais également de la série de romans A court of Thorns and Roses et de Sorcery of Thorns. Des univers riches qui nous ont servi à nourrir notre imagination, mais il n'est toutefois pas nécessaire d'avoir lu ces œuvres pour pouvoir comprendre les intrigues du forum. Elles constituent uniquement une base dans laquelle nous avons puisé des éléments, pour créer un endroit où la magie est partout. Notre forum s'adresse aux amoureu·x·ses de fantasy et de mystique, aux féru·e·s d'histoires de sorcière et de mondes enchantés ! On espère que le projet vous inspirera autant qu'il nous inspire, n'hésitez pas à nous suivre sur tumblr pour cheminer progressivement avec nous et ne rien rater des nouveautés ♡ Nous vous laissons découvrir sans plus attendre le contexte :
Tumblr media
19 notes · View notes
mask131 · 6 months
Text
French fantasy: The children of Orpheus and Melusine
There is this book called “The Illustrated Panorama of the fantasy and the merveilleux” which is a collection and compilation of articles and reviews covering the whole history of the fantasy genre from medieval times to today. And in it there is an extensive article written by A. F. Ruau called “Les enfant d’Orphée et de Mélusine” (The Children of Orpheus and Melusine), about fantasy in French literature. This title is, of course, a reference to the two foundations of French literature: the Greco-Roman heritage (Orpheus) and the medieval tradition (Melusine).
I won’t translate the whole text because it is LONG but I will give here a brief recap and breakdown.
A good part of the article is dedicated to proving that in general France is not a great land for fantasy literature, and that while we had fantasy-like stories in the past, beyond the 18th century we hit a point where fantasy was banned and disdained by literary authorities.
Ruaud reminds us that the oldest roots of French fantasy are within Chrétien de Troyes’ Arthurian novels, the first French novels of the history of French literature, and that despite France rejecting fantasy, the tradition of the Arthuriana and of the “matter of Bretagne” stayed very strong in our land. Even today we have famous authors offering their takes, twists and spins on the Arthurian myth: Xavier de Langlais, Michael Rio, Hersart de la Villemarqué, René Barjaval (with his L’Enchanteur, The Enchanter, in 1984), Jean Markale, Jean-Louis Fetjaine or Justine Niogret (with her “Mordred” in 2013). He also evokes the huge wave and phenomenon of the French fairytales between the 17th and the 18th century, with the great names such as Charles Perrault (the author of Mother Goose’s Fairytales), Madame d’Aulnoy (the author, among others, of The Blue Bird), and Madame Leprince de Beaumont (author of, among others, Beauty and the Beast). He also evokes, of course, Charles Nodier, which was considered one of the great (and last) fairytale authors of the 19th century, the whole “Cabinet des Fées” collection put together to save a whole century of fairytales ; as well as the phenomenon caused by Antoine Galland’s French translation of the One Thousand and One Nights – though Ruaud also admits this translation rather helped the Oriental fashion in French literature (exemplified by famous works such as The Persian Letters, or Zadig) than the genre of the “marvelous”.
Ruaud briefly mentions the existence of a tradition of “quests” in French literature, again inherited from the medieval times, but quests that derived from Arthurian feats to romantic quests, love stories, “polite” novel of aristocratic idylls or pastoral novels of countryside love stories – the oldest being Le Roman de la Rose (the Novel of the Rose, the medieval text began by Guillaume de Lorris in the early 13th century and completed by Jean de Meung one century later), and the most recent L’Astrée (THE great romantic bestseller of the 17th century, written by Honoré d’Urfé). But overall, Ruaud concluded that between the 17th-early 18th century (the last surge of the marvelous, abruptly cut short by the French Revolution and the reshaping of France) and the 1980s (the time during which role-playing fantasy games and the English-speaking fantasy was translated in France), there was very little “fantasy” to be talked of as a whole, a gap that resulted in people such as Gérard Klein declare in the 90s: “Fantasy is a literature made by ignorant people for ignorant readers, and with a true absence of any kind of challenge”.
At least for literature… Ruaud however spends a lot of time detailing the “fantastical” and “marvelous” traditions of visual art – from the stage performances to the movies. There was quite a rich tradition there, apparently. He starts by evoking the massive wave that the release in the United-Kingdom of “The Dream of Ossian” caused. France ADORED Ossianic stuff – even when it was proven that it wasn’t an actual Scottish historical treasure, but a work made up by Macpherson, people still adored it – from Napoleon who commissioned enormous paintings illustrating the Ossianic stories, to the colossal opera by Jean-François Lesueur, “Ossian ou les Bardes”, created for the then brand-new Imperial Academy of music.
There was also the fashion of the “féeries”, a type of stage-show that was all about depicting stories of fairies, gods, magics and other fairytale elements – the “féerie” fashion was at the crossroad between the opera, the ballet and the theater, and in the “dreary, drab and modern” era of the 19th century, people were obsessed with these “little pieces of blue sky” and “golden fairy-clouds”. However, despite the quality of the visuals, costumes and sets (which made the whole power of those féerie, it was their visuals and their themes that drew people in), the dialogues and the plots were noted to be quite bad, simplistic if not absent. The “féeries” were not meant to be great work of arts or actual literature, but just pure entertainment. Gustave Flaubert, right after finishing Salammbô (see my previous post), was exhausted and trying to escape the colossus of the historical novels, he tried to entertain himself by getting into the fashion of the féeries. He read thirty-three féeries in one go, and he was left sickened by so much mediocrity. He decided to create his own féerie that would rehabilitate the genre, and the result was “Le Château des Coeurs”, “The Castle of Hearts”. Nine “tableaux” written by Flaubert on a “canevas” by his friend Louis Bouilhet: “The gnomes, the new avatar of the bourgeois, are stealing the hearts – and thus the ability to love – of humans, to keep them locked up in the vault of the Castle of the Hearts, as their treasure. But the fairies are afoot: they will try to revive love on earth, through two human beings that are said to still have a heart, and to still have the ability to love”. Unfortunately this play, while entirely created, was never actually showed on any stage due to two things. One, at the time the féeries were falling out of fashion and nobody wanted to see them anymore ; two, Flaubert was carried away and placed a LOT of special effects in his play, many which were incredibly more complex than those used at the time. A typical féerie special effect would be for example for a table to turn into a chair, or for a bed to turn into a hammock – but Flaubert demanded for a YOUNG MAN to turn into a DOOR LINTEL.
Anyway… The use of legends and myths was also reigniting in operas thanks to the enormous success of Wagner’s pieces. Claude Debussy created a “Prélude à l’après-midi d’un faune” in 1894, based on Mallarmé’s work (Prelude to a Faun’s afternoon), and later created a Pelléas et Melissande in 1902 based on Maeterlinck. But again… In France, the literature was all about the “fantastique” rather than the fantasy – the supernatural was supposed to be of this disquieting, disruptive, bizarre magic, wonders and horrors that entered the normal, rational, logical reality we all knew. It was the reign of Gautier, Maupassant and Poe through the lenses of Baudelaire). In the 20th century a lot of authors touched upon the “wonderful” and the “marvelous”, but they were discreet touches here and there: André Dhôtel, André Hardellet, Jacques Yonnet, Charles Duits, Henri Michaux, Marcel Aymé, Pierre Benoît, Marguerite Yourcenar, Sylvie Germain, Maurice Maeterlinck, Julien Gracq… Once again, the visuals won over literature – and to symbolize the French fantasy cinema of the 20th century, Ruaud only has to mention one name. Jean Cocteau. Cocteau and his two most famous movies: La Belle et la Bête (Beauty and the Beast, 1946) and Orphée (Orpheus, 1949). They stay to this day the greatest “fantasy movies” of the 20th century.
But unfortunately for France, there never was any “popularization” of the fantasy through media like the pulps of the USA. Science-fiction as a genre was accepted though, to the point that anything that was a “marvel”, a “wonder” or a “supernatural” had to be science-fiction, not magic. The 70s and 80s were the supreme rule of the science-fiction in France: Jean-Pierre Fontana had his stellar ark/arch, Alain Paris his antediluvian continent, Michel Grimaud his spatial colonization, Bernard Simonay his spy-satellites, Hugues Doriaux all sorts of sci-fi gadgets… In this time, if you wanted to do something out of ordinary, you had to go into speculative science, else you wouldn’t be taken seriously. Again, it was Klein’s opinion that fantasy was for “ignorant” readers and writers who didn’t like to “challenge” themselves.
However, in this “desert” that preceded the true fantasy boom of the 90s in France, Ruaud claims that there are actually true French fantasy novels: five “ancestors” of the French fantasy. And those I’ll reveal in a second post…
10 notes · View notes
histoire-glitchienne · 7 months
Text
Touristes: une comédie roman-horrifique du sexe au crime…
Petite soirée solo, envie de savourer un bon repas et une petite bière devant un petit film. Ne supportant guère les films très gores ( j’ai failli vomir mes tripes devant « La maison près du cimetière »et puis bon … je m’´apprête à manger un bon chili… ´fin bref, pas envie d’avoir l’impression de manger une bouillie de tripes: une autre fois peut-être ( ou pas…) Je m’hasarde alors dans le catalogue de Shadows et je tombe sur une affiche qui attire mon regard: couple et petit chien aux expressions peu avenantes posant devant des restes humains. Contraste. Je ne suis pas friande des comédies romantiques mais s’il y a des tueurs en série dedans, je suis toujours partante!
Deux amoureux misanthropes tuent afin de prouver leur amour l’un à l’autre. Le crime est à la fois le ciment de leur « amour » et le feu destructeur. Au diable les films à l’eau de rose : Comédie roman-horrifique noire, grinçante et brut du sexe au crime !
Gros coup de cœur ❤️ ❤️❤️❤️❤️ @shadowzvod @occulture_ytb #instafilm #blogcinema #instacinema #instablog #cinemahorreur
Tumblr media
10 notes · View notes
mmepastel · 8 months
Text
Tumblr media
Ah… là ça va mieux.
Très joli livre. Un trésor de délicatesse.
L’histoire se passe autour de trois personnages qui habitent dans la même rue (enfin, à peu près). Clara, sept ans, a précisément les yeux rivés sur la rue, car sa sœur chérie Rose a disparu, suite à une dispute avec leur mère ; elle la guette. Elle s’entend très bien avec Elizabeth Orchard, sa vieille voisine d’en face, et avec son chat. Celle-ci lui confie même la tâche de nourrir Moïse (le chat), lorsqu’elle doit s’absenter pour un séjour à l’hôpital…mais le séjour s’éternise, Rose ne revient pas non plus, et voilà qu’un étrange inconnu semble prendre possession de la maison de Mme Orchard. Le monde de Clara se fissure, et elle veut comprendre et tout réparer ; il faut dire que malgré son anxiété, elle a un sacré caractère, et une volonté de fer.
Il s’agit d’un roman choral dans lequel les chapitres s’enchaînent avec changement de narration avec ces trois personnages. On comprend peu à peu ce qui les lie, ou ce qui va les lier. C’est assez joli, subtil, nuancé et doux. Finement écrit, avec un humour discret mais efficace, on s’attache vite et bien aux personnages, et on se surprend à s’attendrir, vouloir qu’ils soient réconfortés, consolés, oui, comme l’annonce le titre.
Il est possible de faire de la bonne littérature avec de bons sentiments, j’ai enfin un exemple à citer. Ici des êtres blessés par la vie se retrouvent dans cette petite ville du Canada, enfin un peu dorlotés par le destin, enfin, apaisés dirons-nous (car l’autre mot est un peu déplacé pour Elizabeth) sans que l’ombre d’une mièvrerie vienne gêner le plaisir. C’est communicatif. Un beau livre qui fait du bien, c’est appréciable.
8 notes · View notes
selidren · 17 days
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Hiver 1916-1917 - Champs-les-Sims
7/7
Mais que nous le voulions ou non, la question centrale des hommes dans un foyer à présent dominé par les femmes ne disparait jamais. Récemment, alors que je suis moi même assaillie de cauchemars de façon assez récurrente, voici que ma petite Sélène est obsédée à l'idée que son avenir serait compromis si son père mourrait à la guerre. Cela a été dur de la détromper car elle boit les paroles de Madame Eugénie qui lui narre sa jeunesse qui remonte littéralement à un autre siècle et qu'elle dévore des romans à l'eau de rose plus vieux encore dans lesquels la situation des jeunes filles est souvent précaire. Ses questions intempestives ne font que raviver les angoisses de chacun.
J'espère pouvoir vous apporter de bonnes nouvelles sous peu. Et sachez que le récit de votre vie paisible chez vous est une véritable bouffée d'air frais.
Avec l'assurance de mes sentiments les plus respectueux,
Albertine Le Bris
Transcription :
Sélène « Si Papa meurt, qui s’occupera de nous ? »
Marc-Antoine « Maman, quelle question ! »
Sélène « Non, je veux dire, quel homme s’occupera de nous ? Grand-Mère dit qu’il faut toujours un homme pour gérer le domaine. »
Marc-Antoine « Oncle Adelphe alors j’imagine. »
Sélène « Et si lui meurt aussi ? »
Marc-Antoine « Mais pourquoi tu pense à ça d’ailleurs ? »
Sélène « Ils sont à la guerre. Imagine qu’ils ne rentrent pas. »
Marc-Antoine « Ce sont de bons soldats, pourquoi est-ce qu’il mourraient. »
Sélène « Je ne pense pas que Papa soit un bon soldat, il est très maladroit. Maman ne le laisse jamais toucher au service de Dresde, qu’on devrait jeter d’ailleurs. Parce que Dresde est en Allemagne. »
Marc-Antoine « J’avais bien compris. Mais dans tous les cas, tu n’as à t’en faire. Je ne vous laisserai pas tomber. »
Sélène « C’est toi qui héritera ? »
Marc-Antoine « Non, c’est Noé. »
Sélène « C’est bien pour Cléo et moi, ça. Elle est trop gentille pour nous laisser sans le sou. »
Marc-Antoine « Qu’est-ce que tu es en train de lire ? »
Sélène « Raison et sentiments. »
Marc-Antoine « Je vois. Tu n’as pas à t’en faire, on ne perdra pas la maison. Je ne te savais pas assez impressionnable pour te faire influencer par les manigances de Fanny Dashwood. »
Sélène « Tu l’as lu ? Je croyais que les garçons ne s’intéressaient pas aux histoires d’amour. »
Marc-Antoine « Je n’en suis pas sur, les garçons tombent amoureux aussi non ? Moi, j’aimerai bien connaître une histoire d’amour aussi belle que celle des romans. »
Sélène « C’est bien vrai ça ! »
Marc-Antoine « Et je pourrai être marié et toujours veiller sur vous. Tu as ma parole ! »
6 notes · View notes
cuties-in-codices · 1 month
Text
Tumblr media
narcissus
from a copy of the "roman de la rose" by guillaume de lorris and jean de meun, france, first half of the 14th c.
source: Lausanne, Bibl. cantonale et universitaire, M 454, fol. 6r
92 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
~ Bienvenue sur ta Ligue simulée ~
Ce blog sera une fédération simulée sur la puissance montante du catch américain! La WWE ( World Wrestling Entertainment ! Créée en 1952. Sur cette fédération vous pourrez choisir uniquement des Superstars de la WWE ou bien d'anciens de la WWE. Je n'autoriserai que quatre superstars &/ou Womens par personnes. Je vous souhaite un excellent moment sur cette ligue virtuelle et vous souhaite bonnes chances pour votre carrière!
Attention, parmi vos 4 superstars vous devez au moins choisir deux superstar ou Womens sous contrat avec la WWE. Les deux roster seront réuni, c'est à dire qu'il n'y aura plus que un Show par semaine
WWE SUPERSHOW
 General Manager: Sonya Deville
- Adam Cole - AJ Lee - AJ Styles - Aleister Black - Alexa Bliss - Alicia Fox - Aliyah - Andrade - Angel Garza - Apollo Crews - Asuka - Austin Theory - Baron Corbin - Batista - Bayley - Becky Lynch -Beth Phoenix - Bianca Belair - Big Cass - Big Show - Billie Kay - Bobby Lashley - Big E - Brandi Rhodes  Brad Maddox - Brody King - Corey Grave - Brie Bella - Cameron - Candice Michelle - Carmella - Cash Wheeler  - Cesaro - Charlotte Flair - Christian - Chris Jericho - CM Punk - Cody Rhodes - Damian Priest - Dana Brooke - Daniel Bryan - Daniel Garcia - Darby Allin - Dean Ambrose(Jon Moxley) - Dolph Ziggler - Dominik Mysterio - Drew McIntyre - Edge - Elias - Emma - Enzo Amore - Eric Young - Eve Torres -  Eva Marie - Finn Balor - Jeff Hardy - Golderg - Iyo Sky - Jack Swagger - Jeff Hardy - Jey Uso - Jimmy Uso - Jinder Mahal - Joey Gacy - John Cena - John Morrison - Johnny Gargano - Jungle Boy - Justin Gabriel - Kairi Sane - Kaitlyn - Kane -  Karrion Kross - Keith Lee - Kelly Kelly - Kevin Owens -  Kofi Kingston - Lacey Evans - Lana - Layla El - Lita - Liv Morgan - Madcap Moss - Mandy Rose - Maria - Matt Hardy - Maryse - Melina - Max Dupri - Maxwell Jacob Friedman (MJF) - Mia Yim - Michelle McCool - Mickie James - Montez Ford - Murphy - MVP - Naomi - Natalya - Nia Jax - Nikki ASH - Nikki Bella - Otis - Pac - Paige Vanzant - Peyton Royce - R-Truth - Randy Orton - Rey Mysterio - Rhea Ripley - Ricochet - Riddle - Robert Roode - Roman Reigns - Ronda Rousey - Ruby Riott - Sami Zayn - Sarah Logan - Sasha Banks -Scarlett Bordeaux - Seth Rollins - Shanna - Shawn Spears - Shayna Bazler - Sheamus - Shelton Benjamin - Shinsuke Nakamura - Shotzi - Solo Sikoa - Sonya Deville(GM) - Tamina - Tegan Nox - TJP -  The Fiend'' Bray Wyatt - The Miz - The Undertaker - The Rock - Titus O'Neil - Toni Storm - Trish Stratus - Trey Miguel - Wade Barrett - Xavier Woods - Zack Rider (Matt Cardona) - Zahra Schreiber - Zelina Vega - 
17 notes · View notes
angelitam · 6 months
Text
Partageons mon rendez-vous lectures #30-2023 & critiques
Voici ma critique littéraire sur Livres à profusion. #Erlendur5, Les Roses de la nuit d’Arnaldur Indridason Les roses de la nuit d’Arnaldur Indridason – Editions Points La cité des rêves tome 2 de Don Winslow La cité des rêves de Don Winslow – Editions Harper Collins En lecture, un voyage, un document, La mélancolie de l’ours polaire de Mo Malo La mélancolie de l’ours polaire de Mo Malo –…
Tumblr media
View On WordPress
1 note · View note
fortrylletfe · 1 year
Text
CONFÉRENCE : LA LÉGENDE NOIRE DE L’INQUISITION MÉDIÉVALE
Sujet :   inquisition, légende noire, idées reçues, définition. monde médiéval, Languedoc,   Provence Période : moyen-âge central,  XIIIe et XIVe siècle Média  : vidéo-conférence, livres. Titre :   L’inquisition médiévale Conférencier :  Laurent Albaret,  historien médiéviste
S‘il y a bien une chose à laquelle l’imaginaire populaire lié au moyen-âge aime à s’accrocher, c’est cette vision d’une période médiévale peuplée de bûchers, sur lesquels quelques frères dominicains fanatisés, grillent, à tour de bras et après force tortures, d’ingénus contradicteurs : du bonhomme cathare au guérisseur de campagne, jusqu’à une pauvre marginale dénoncée par son voisin comme suspecte de commerce avec le diable.
Dans cette construction/reconstitution, aussi effrayante que spectaculaire, l’apparition  d’un Bernard Gui,   glacé et  sanguinaire, tout droit  sorti  du film  Le   Nom de la Rose ( réalisé par  Jean-Jacques Annaud sur la base du roman d’Umberto Eco) tomberait à point nommé. Pour un peu, elle cristalliserait même très exactement (tout en l’alimentant),  une  « légende noire de l’inquisition » qui  se tenait, depuis longtemps, cachée dans les replis  de notre imaginaire et qui ne demandait qu’à en sortir.
Méthode historique  vs sensationnalisme
Pour faire un peu le tri dans tout cela, plusieurs historiens médiévistes se sont penchés, jusqu’à récemment, sur le sujet de l’inquisition et des hérésies médiévales.  Ils  l’ont fait avec beaucoup de méthode et de sérieux et nous avons déjà eu l’occasion d’évoquer quelques-uns d’entre eux ici : Andre Vauchez et son histoire des hérésies médiévales (2014) ou encore Jean-Louis Biget  avec son   Hérésie et inquisition dans le midi de la France (2007).    Aujourd’hui et pour le dire trivialement, c’est au tour de  Laurent Albaret   de s’y coller.  Cet historien,  actif dans de nombreux domaines, a également fait de l’inquisition un de ses sujets de recherche, notamment celle des XIIIe et XIVe siècles en Languedoc et dans le midi de la France.   Ainsi, en septembre 2019, il était accueilli dans le cadre prestigieux de l’Ecole Nationale des Chartes pour y donner une conférence sur ce thème que nous avons le plaisir  de partager, plus bas dans cet article.
Des documents et des faits
Une fois le  tableau  restauré, si l’inquisition médiévale et les acteurs impliqués s’en tirent plutôt plus favorablement, dans leurs méthodes et leurs statistiques, que l’imagerie populaire et littéraire moderne ne l’avaient jusque là supputé, c’est simplement que les historiens (celui du jour et d’autres avant lui), ont fait parler les sources manuscrites d’époque : soit, principalement, les documents juridiques issus des tribunaux inquisitoriaux, avec leurs minutes, leurs sanctions, leurs relaxes et leurs chiffres.Ms 0609, Registrum inquisitorum Tholosanorum (1245-1253) Bibliothèque municipale de Toulouse – Bibliothèque Virtuelle des manuscrits médiévaux CNRS
Une « légende noire » pour des « Dark Ages »
Pour le reste, pas plus que Laurent Albaret ne le fait dans cette conférence, nous n’allons prétendre décortiquer, ici, les raisons complexes (historiques, idéologiques, littéraires, …) ayant favorisé  la promotion (sensationnaliste) d’une inquisition médiévale essentiellement  aveugle et massivement « meurtricide », au point de forger à son égard, ce que l’on a pu quelquefois appeler « une légende noire ».
Sur le sujet de l’inquisition médiévale, si, à bien des égards, les morts  à compter pourront toujours nous sembler de trop, remis dans leur contexte, les chiffres sont très loin d’égaler d’autres massacres perpétrés dans l’histoire. Quant à l’arbitraire et la barbarie supposés des méthodes et des sanctions, jusqu’à  ce jour  et en accord avec l’historiographie  récente, l’examen des faits et des statistiques semble plaider en leur défaveur.
Des confusions « classiques »
Pour finir cette introduction  sur  les représentations autour de l’inquisition médiévale, notons que de nombreuses choses sont venues s’y mêler dans une sorte de confusion générale : 1/ Les périodes  : l’inquisition du moyen-âge n’est pas celle des siècles suivants,  2/ Les « justices » et les tribunaux concernés :  les tribunaux inquisitoriaux et le  bras séculier (justice royale, seigneurial, civile, politique) sont deux choses différentes. Les enjeux politiques et économiques sont souvent à démêler (procès des templiers, méandres de l’affaire Gille de Rais, etc…) 3/ Il faut encore dissiper les confusions qui planent entre l’histoire de l’inquisition française des XIIIe et XIVe siècles et celle de l’inquisition espagnole de la fin du XVe siècle.
Enfin, il faut aussi le comprendre, bien souvent, c’est l’ignorance qui nous fait « tout mettre dans le même sac », comme on le dit l’expression populaire. Quand on s’approche avec sérieux et   méthode de la réalité, en général, les  visions grossières et sans nuance fondent comme neige au soleil. Demandez-le à quiconque est engagé dans des recherches  de haut vol.  Quelque soit sa matière scientifique, la première chose qu’il fera est de border très précisément son sujet et son champ d’observation. Tout en le faisant, vous verrez qu’il vous parlera  d’humilité, bien avant de vous parler de certitudes. Tout cela bien compris,  nous vous souhaitons une excellente conférence.
La conférence  de Laurent Albaret sur l’inquisition médiévale
youtube
Laurent Albaret :  esquisse de Biographie
Après une formation en histoire  et une spécialisation dans le domaine des Inquisitions médiévales dans le Sud de la France,  Laurent Albaret a enseigné plus d’une dizaine d’années dans le secondaire (1991-2002),  puis dans le monde universitaire (2002-2006), avant de voguer vers d’autres horizons.
Sur le terrain de l’Histoire et de la Culture
Histoire contemporaine & présence médiatique
Les années 2010-2020   verront  Laurent Albaret  investi du côté de l’Histoire  postale  (conservateur au Musée de la poste) mais aussi de l’Histoire de l’Aviation (secrétaire général et secrétaire de la commission Histoire, Arts & Lettres de l’Aéro-Club de France). A côté de cela, il lancera également des opérations dans le domaine culturel et patrimonial (Association Parix Louxor ou encore Un soir, un musée, un verre) auxquelles viendront s’ajouter des activités dans le monde de la presse au sein de divers magazines.    Aujourd’hui, dans le champ de l’Histoire médiévale ou plus contemporaine, on le trouve très actif sur de nombreux médias : conférences, interviews, podcasts, publications diverses. Il intervient même, à titre de conseiller historique, auprès d’émissions télévisuelles.
Présence dans le domaine du consulting digital
A ces nombreuses activités, Laurent Albaret a encore ajouté,  dernièrement,   une présence dans le  secteur de la création et de la communication digitale. En 2016, il a, en effet, créé,  une  agence  web baptisée Le doigt sur le truc. C’est en occupant divers postes à responsabilité  au sein de pôles numériques et médias sociaux  de diverses filiales  du groupe La poste (2010-2015), qu’il s’est forgé des compétences dans cette matière. Il y a, depuis, ajouté de nombreuses autres références.
Deux ouvrages de Laurent Albaret pour en savoir plus  sur l’inquisition médiévale
Pour approcher de plus près les éléments abordés dans cette conférence, voici deux ouvrages de Laurent Albaret sur le sujet de l’Inquisition médiévale. Les Inquisiteurs : portraits de défenseurs de la foi en Languedoc Privat  (2001)
16 notes · View notes