Tumgik
#sorry if these weren't that good
magicomens · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Ah yes. Anthony Justdontgetstabbed Crowley.
First >> Prev >> Next
5K notes · View notes
cowardlykrow · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
“Not my circus, not my monkeys”… Except those are his monkeys and they are the circus
1K notes · View notes
actual-changeling · 7 months
Text
An angel and a demon walk into a bar.
It sounds like the beginning of a joke, one that would have annoyed Crowley greatly before- before. Maybe it would have been mildly amusing, were it not for the fact that it is a pub, not a bar (a mere technicality that somehow still mattered), and it is the first time in seven months that he is looking Aziraphale right in the face.
He chose the place, walked right out of the bookshop and across the street the second Aziraphale looked at him with his stupid purple eyes and opened his mouth. Same table, same drinks. New silence.
A demon leads an angel into a pub so he does not kiss him again.
Less of a joke, more like the beginning of a nightmare he has had every single time he tried to sleep, woken by whispered words either confirming his worst fears or greatest desires; both incite fear, one way or another.
The low table between them is enough of a barrier to prevent a repeat of their last interaction, it has to be, although this time Aziraphale is looking at him with violet-coloured longing and an apology on his lips, no longer pleading, no longer angry. He is asking for forgiveness, and if that isn't a deeply ironic twist of fate.
Before either of them says a single word, Crowley finishes his drink and raises his hand to order another one, clinging to the familiar sting of alcohol in his throat to burn away the questions lingering on his tongue.
An angel followed a demon into a pub because he loves him.
Aziraphale wishes he could tell himself Crowley looks like he did seven months ago, that he hasn't changed, but he is done lying to himself, to either of them. Behind his shades, dark, darker if that is even possible, he can feel his golden gaze heavy on his face, familiar and the answer to an empty longing in his chest.
His drink goes untouched as Crowley downs one, then another, and it is after the third that he finally begins to talk.
"What do you want?"
Bitter, sharp, spit at his feet with an anger he expected and yet doesn't know how to react to. Underneath it is pain—more pain than any being should ever have to experience—and instead of trying to carry some of it for him, he only added to it.
"I want to apologise."
"Fine." Crowley shoves his empty glass away and gets up. "I don't forgive you."
Reflexively, Aziraphale reaches out and curls his fingers around his wrist when Crowley tries to walk past him, blinking up at him with eyes the colour of dying Myosotis.
Forget-me-nots.
They both freeze, the point of contact a crack in the walls they have spent centuries building and seven months rebuilding, and he knows he has made a mistake immediately.
Crowley stares at him, still as stone, until he suddenly rips his arm out of his grasp, almost cradling it against his chest. With dawning horror, Aziraphale realises he is shaking, tremors running through him like waves breaking apart on a rocky shore.
"Don't you dare touch me." Panic, not anger. Pure, unfiltered panic blooming beside a mountain of fear that could outlast an eternity.
"I-" He doesn't know what he wants to say, what he is trying to say, what he needs to say to make him stay. Oh, the irony of it all.
Crowley leaves the pub, and the Supreme Archangel stays behind.
Not a demon anymore, not technically, he is done with sides, and deeds, and choices; he never makes the right ones anyway. His wrist hurts with the ghost of a kiss, and he cannot get the glint of purple where summer sky blue should be out of his head. 
The Bentley is waiting for him, providing an escape from the noise, the people, him.
Apologies instead of I'm coming back.
A sickening aura of holiness tinged with the burn of ozone instead of books and dust and soft, silly angel.
Seven months of waiting, of pleading with God, of cursing Her, cursing him, cursing the entire fucking world for taking and taking and taking from him without pause, without even a fragment of mercy.
For this.
An angel returns to heaven. Crowley curses the stars and cries.
551 notes · View notes
hedgehog-moss · 2 months
Note
Inspired by your last ask! What are the best French books you’ve read that have no English translation yet? I read Play Boy and Qui a tué mon père (really loved the latter) last year and it feels so fun to read something that other Americans can’t access yet
I'm too nervous to make any list of the Best XYZ Books because I don't want to raise your expectations too high! But okay, here's my No English Translation-themed list of books I've enjoyed in recent years. I tried to make it eclectic in terms of genre as I don't know what you prefer :)
Biographies
• Le dernier inventeur, Héloïse Guay de Bellissen: I just love prehistory and unusual narrators so I enjoyed this one; it's about the kids who discovered the cave of Lascaux, and some of the narration is written from the perspective of the cave <3 I posted a little excerpt here (in English).
• Ces femmes du Grand Siècle, Juliette Benzoni: Just a fun collection of portraits of notable noblewomen during the reign of Louis XIV, I really liked it. For people who like the 17th century. I think it was Emil Cioran who said his favourite historical periods were the Stone Age and the 17th century but tragically the age of salons led to the Reign of Terror and Prehistory led to History.
• La Comtesse Greffulhe, Laure Hillerin: I've mentioned this one before, it's about the fascinating Belle Époque French socialite who was (among other things) the inspiration for Proust's Duchess of Guermantes. I initially picked it up because I will read anything that's even vaguely about Proust but it was also a nice aperçu of the Belle Époque which I didn't know much about.
• Nous les filles, Marie Rouanet: I've also recommended this one before but it's such a sweet little viennoiserie of a book. The author talks about her 1950s childhood in a town in the South of France in the most detailed, colourful, earnest way—she mentions everything, describes all the daft little games children invent like she wants ageless aliens to grasp the concept of human childhood, it's great.
I'll add Trésors d'enfance by Christian SIgnol and La Maison by Madeleine Chapsal which are slightly less great but also sweet short nostalgic books about childhood that I enjoyed.
Fantasy
• Mers mortes, Aurélie Wellenstein: I read this one last year and I found the characters a bit underwhelming / underexplored but I always enjoy SFF books that do interesting things with oceans (like Solaris with its sentient ocean-planet), so I liked the atmosphere here, with the characters trying to navigate a ghost ship in ghost seas...
• Janua Vera, Jean-Philippe Jaworski: Not much to say about it other than they're short stories set in a mediaeval fantasy world and no part of this description is usually my cup of tea, but I really enjoyed this read!
Essays / literary criticism / philosophy
• Eloge du temps perdu, Frank Lanot: I thought this was going to be about idleness, as the title suggests, and I love books about idleness. But it's actually a collection of short essays about (French) literature and some of them made me appreciate new things about authors and books I thought I knew by heart, so I enjoyed it
• Le Pont flottant des rêves, Corinne Atlan: Poetic musings about translation <3 that's all
• Sisyphe est une femme, Geneviève Brisac: Reflections about the works of female writers (Natalia Ginzburg, Virginia Woolf, Sylvia Townsend Warner, etc) that systematically made me want to go read the author in question, even when I'd already read & disliked said author. That's how you know it's good literary criticism
Let's add L'Esprit de solitude by Jacqueline Kelen which as the title suggests, ponders the notion of solitude, and Le Roman du monde by Henri Peña-Ruiz which was so lovely to read in terms of literary style I don't even care what it was about (it's philosophy of foundational myths & stories) (probably difficult to read if you're not fully fluent in French though)
Did not fit in the above categories:
• Entre deux mondes by Olivier Norek—it's been translated in half a dozen languages, I was surprised to find no English translation! It's a crime novel and a pretty bleak read on account of the setting (the Calais migrant camp) but I'd recommend it
• Saga, Tonino Benacquista: Also seems to have been translated in a whole bunch of languages but not English? :( I read it ages ago but I remember it as a really fun read. It's a group of loser screenwriters who get hired to write a TV series, their budget is 15 francs and a stale croissant and it's going to air at 4am so they can do whatever they want seeing as no one will watch it. So they start writing this intentionally ridiculous unhinged show, and of course it acquires Devoted Fans
Books that I didn't think existed in English translation but they do! but you can still read them in French if you want
• Scrabble: A Chadian Childhood, Michaël Ferrier: What it says on the tin! It's a short and well-written account of the author's childhood in Chad just before the civil war. I read it a few days ago and it was a good read, but then again I just love bittersweet stories of childhood
• On the Line, Joseph Ponthus: A short diary-like account of the author's assembly line work in a fish factory. I liked the contrast between the robotic aspect of the job and the poetic nature of the text; how the author used free verse / repetition / scansion to give a very immediate sense of the monotony and rhythm of his work (I don't know if it's good in English)
• The End of Eddy, Edouard Louis: The memoir of a gay man growing up in a poor industrial town in Northern France—pretty brutal but really good
• And There Was Light, Jacques Lusseyran: Yet another memoir sorry, I love people's lives! Jacques Lusseyran lost his sight as a child, and was in the Resistance during WWII despite being blind. It's a great story, both for the historical aspects and for the descriptions of how the author experiences his blindness
• The Adversary: A True Story of Monstrous Deception, Emmanuel Carrère: an account of the Jean-Claude Romand case—a French man who murdered his whole family to avoid being discovered as a fraud, after spending his entire adult life pretending to be a doctor working at the WHO and fooling everyone he knew. Just morbidly fascinating, if you like true crime stuff
199 notes · View notes
ineed-to-sleep · 10 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Well you see they're just very good friends
522 notes · View notes
dragondawdles · 7 months
Text
Tumblr media
last anniversary I drew kiwi and miriam so this year she finally shows up albeit a bit late
238 notes · View notes
mortellanarts · 9 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
My heart just burst like a glass balloon
320 notes · View notes
ianthoni · 7 months
Text
Rhett calling Link daddy and Link calling him boy/son compilation (cause link said don't call me daddy like Rhett never did it before 🙄)
164 notes · View notes
kinnbig · 1 year
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
KinnPorsche Gif Series | Favourite Ghost Ships [2/?] | ArmTankhun
1K notes · View notes
emeraldotter · 27 days
Text
Tumblr media
notebook doodles
64 notes · View notes
thecrowstoes · 1 year
Text
Thinking about malevolent podcast and how unsettling it would be to talk to someone who's eyes don't match their expression. Their face and body language is panicked but the eyes are full of grim determination. Their face show nothing but the purest relief and joy but the eyes are scared and confused. The expression is one of outrage and hatred but the eyes are full of fearful sympathy.
(Edit: people this is about the podcast malevolent where a character's eyes are literally not his own, he is possessed by an eldritch monster god that uses his eyes. I see that I could have phrased this better but please check the original tags before assuming stuff!!!)
979 notes · View notes
yuriyuruandyuraart · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
𝐬 𝐦 𝐨 𝐤 𝐞 𝐛 𝐫 𝐞 𝐚 𝐤
two versions because i'm indecisive hhh >:')
88 notes · View notes
tumblezwei-art · 3 months
Note
Kyoko as princess Odette!! That would be sooo cute!
Tumblr media
MY GIRL!!!! Inspiration taken from the ballet bc i thought she'd look really pretty
35 notes · View notes
yuseirra · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
+ referring to these dialogues from his link episode ↓
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Ryoji should've taken me(the MC) to dinner.....that'd have been nice
47 notes · View notes
Text
I gotta say that the majority of fic ideas that tumble through my brain are fix-it fics for YJ. I'm super not jazzed with where the show went (especially because we've seen it be amazing) and I mourn the loss of the writers room.
(Because truly, the thing that made season 1&2 so much better than the later seasons was a writers room where all the writers got together and workshopped ideas and running jokes and characterization. We don't get that in the later seasons. The only ones who see the big picture are Greg and Brandon and sometimes the first idea isn't the best idea. Sometimes you need a writers room to bounce plotlines off of.)
It's a little bit weird having slim to no hope for another season of Young Justice and not really feeling happy with where the show is and yet being totally obsessed internally with fixing it. It's a really odd war I have going on within myself right now.
You know, say what you want about DC comics but at least they aren't so bad that my brain is yelling at me to fix it 24/7. Like... They totally used to be but now it's pretty chill actually
85 notes · View notes
transjudas · 1 year
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media
they’re literally just friends hanging out, having fun, and teasing each other on stage (x)
181 notes · View notes