#frances trace

[jaynuu]

the lengths I'll go for a shit post

(alt. versions below)

last one is FACE fam, pls don't tag as us/uk or eng/can 😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️

[goldenstarprincesses]

*modern trench warfare being used for the first time in a major conflict during the American civil war*

*trench warfare leaving mental scars on Alfred that takes years of healing to move past*

Alfred showing up to Europe and seeing they somehow made trench warfare worse

[letsnotforgetabouttrace]

McMillan-Lehnhoffs in France.

[dieletztepanzerhexe]

La actriz-músicista toma la posa de la Venus de Laussel, el bajorrelieve incidido en la roca, de 25.000 años, presente a la entrada de una gruta en Dordogna, Francia. En la mano derecha tiene levantado un cuerno bovino, quizás de bisonte, con incididas 13 incisiones. La particular forma del cuerno llama a la memoria la luna creciente, que da sostén a la hipótesis que las incisiones sean una posible notación en relación a las fases lunares y que corresponden al número de los días del primer ciclo lunar, de la luna nueva a la luna llena. El cuerno con las incisiones también es un instrumento musical a raspado, más conocido con el término Sur americano de guiro. Y un instrumento todo otro que simple y limitado, en cuánto produce extraordinarias frecuencias parecidas a las complejas sonoridades de las chicharras, de los grillos, de las cigarras y de las ranas.

[basilicova]

My favourite pictures of Paris 🫶😍

source @milesmcmillan & @tfortrace ig

[lulu2992]

Hello, First of all i love your posts about far cry they made my day :)) Second, i would like to talk about vaas birthday, if i am not mistaken on his wiki it says hes born on may 6th 1984, but i remember that michael wished him happy birthday on november 20th, i tried to look for official information about his birthday date but i didn't find any, do you have any theories about when his birthday might be ?

Hello! And thank you :)

In Far Cry 3, there sadly is no information regarding Vaas’ birthday or age…

Michael Mando posted two behind-the-scenes pictures of The Far Cry Experience with the caption “Happy Birthday, Vaas 💫🍄🎆” on November 30, 2020, on Twitter (or X, as it’s now called), Instagram, and Facebook. The game came out on November 29, November 30, or December 4, 2012, depending on the country, so I imagine that’s why he chose that date to celebrate the “birth” of the character. I personally accepted Michael’s “headcanon” and November 30 as Vaas’ birthday, but it’s not really official or canon. For what it’s worth, he auditioned for the role of “Mr. X” (who would later be completely rewritten and become Vaas Montenegro) six days before his 29th birthday, and when Far Cry 3 was released, he was 31.

As for the Wiki, it’s really, really not reliable because people add unsourced and often inaccurate information all the time. I looked through the history of Vaas’ page and found out that the first time he was given an age was on December 28, 2012, when an anonymous contributor decided he was 27 years old (and I’ve always wondered if it was because of the 27 Club). On August 6, 2013, someone else wrote that he was born on May 7, 1985. On January 6, 2021, he was 30 years old and born in 1981. On February 15, 2021, he was born on May 13, 1985, but the same user changed the date to May 14 shortly after. On May 22, 2021, he was 28 and his year of birth became 1984. As I’m writing this post, the Wiki still says he was born in 1984, but on the page dedicated to the Far Cry Timeline, he was born in 1985... He had three different heights and weights as well even though we have no information on that, either.

So yeah, we unfortunately still don’t know when Vaas was canonically born or how old he is in Far Cry 3, and I don’t recommend trusting the Far Cry Wiki in general :’)

[ozkar-krapo]

V/A

"Rencontres du 1er Type (Un Magasin de Nouveautés)"

(cassette. Intra Musiquès. 1986) [FR]

[callmeanxietygirl]

🚴🏻Un grupo de cinco ciclistas lograron un nuevo récord mundial al crear un dibujo gigante en el mapa de GPS de un dinosaurio, hazaña lograda en Francia.

📖Ahora los nombres de los ciclistas figuran en el famoso libro de Récords Guinness por tal hazaña.

🏆Dicha práctica es conocida como Strava Art, y les permitió batir un récord mundial oficial.

🗺️El dibujo cubre unos 1.025 kilómetros y estos hicieron el recorrido durante 43 horas y 47 minutos.

📍Fue utilizando la aplicación de seguimiento de GPS que el equipo logró su meta.

✅La hazaña ha sido ampliamente elogiada por la comunidad de ciclistas y atletas de toda Francia y otros países.

Fuente: RT Actualidad

#ElNuevoDiarioRD

[kc5rings]

The Jalter NP name is wrong because Flamme is really like. A noun, and based on the rest of the NP name, she's using l'Impératif (Imperative) aka givin an order, and so the verb should be first, and in this case the verb is indeed burn, and so in french Brûler. Hence Flame, Pays Étranger sounding bad, compared to the more natural Brûle, Pays Étranger. (Same with La Grondement du Haine though there its with the gender of words (should be Le Grondement de la Haine))

This is legitimately fascinating thank you! I appreciate you taking the time to answer my tag questions hah

[ochd-deug]

well... what a match!

[madanimalscientist]

I once (due to jet lag) managed to forget the French word for sheep, despite having taken 3 years of French (plus learning it concurrently with English as a child, thanks to my great aunt who was a native speaker). So I'm on the train in Quebec and making polite small talk with the woman next to me and it's going pretty well and she asks me what I do and I say "je travaille avec les vaches et les..." (I work with cows and...) and I forgot the word for sheep so I just do a very realistic baa and she laughs and goes "moutons!" and I nod and go "oui, merci, moutons".

(on that same trip I also managed to also mix up "poutine" and "putain" and accidentally excitedly announce a restaurant had gluten-free hookers, for which I have no excuse except that it had been a long week and alcohol was involved and honestly both of those incidents were pretty funny)

I actually really like the thing when you're starting to get the hang of a new language, enough to understand and say simple sentences but you gotta get creative to get more complex thoughts across, like a puzzle. I remember a time in the restortation school when a classmate who wasn't natively finnish and did her best anyway dropped something and sighed, telling me "every day is monday this week. I have had four mondays this week." And I understood.

I don't think I speak much of spanish anymore, but in the nursing school training period I did there, I did manage to get by with making weird Tarzan sentences. I got a nosebleed at some point and startled another nurse. Not knowing the words "humidity" or "stress", I managed to string together: "This is ok. It is hot, it is cold, I have a bad day, I am sad, I have blood. This is normal for me." And she understood.

And sometimes you just say things weird, but it's better than not saying it. One time, I was stuck in a narrow hallway behind someone walking really slowly with a walker, and he apologised for being in the way. I was not in any hurry, but didn't know the spanish word for "hurry", but I did know enough words to try to circumvent it by borrowing the english "I have all the time in the world."

The man burst into one of those cackling old man laughters that they do when something in this world still manages to surprise them. He had to be somewhere between 70 and a 100 years old, and I guess if there was one thing he wasn't expecting to hear today, it would be a random blond vaguely baltic-looking fuck casually announce that he is the sole owner and keeper of the very concept of time.

[alohapromisesforever]

Facing Death Boldly

Facing Death Boldlyby Michael DoyleFacing death is one thingWatching the death of your menThat hurts more than anythingIt burns like the second mortal sinCold and hungry in the nightA target was seen in every lightYou never forget the death seenIt takes away part of a human beingTears rolled down his faceAs his mind touched the tracesOf memories about the war foughtSome things are never forgotThe…

[letsnotforgetabouttrace]

Birthday trip for mom Lehnhoff.

[ashcadence]

I had done a DNA test (I know, the companies are sketchy, but I was hitting brick walls with ancestry stuff and was using it as a last resort) anyway we were really confused when it said I was mostly French. I didn't know I was French. I was always told I was German (I live in a VERY German area. Lots of people around here still speak German)

Well, it did help with the brick walls and it turns out my ancestors were living along The Rhine river, the border of France and Germany, which is why I'm genetically more French. It's pretty sad when tracking my ancestors I was getting excited seeing things like Normandy or the area around Paris because it was something different than along the river

I'm assuming that because we live in an area that's very, rust belt meets the Appalachians, which is extremely German and Scotch-Irish, it was probably forgotten we were also French since we've been in America for so damn long

It's also an oddity to get French on a DNA test if you're from where I live hence I never considered my ancestors could be French

Either way, I found that really interesting

[valentin10]

Statistiques : Tadej Pogacar sur les traces d'Eddy Merckx sur le Tour de France

https://www.lequipe.fr/Cyclisme-sur-route/Actualites/Statistiques-tadej-pogacar-sur-les-traces-d-eddy-merckx-sur-le-tour-de-france/1483787

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"Mad Woman"

ok yall im out of school now! this was rushed so don't judge, when i write i just pour out whatever's in my head, that's why it's almost always rushed. i feel like if i don't write it, it'll disappeare! also to everyone hating in my asks, NO ONE IS FORCING YOU TO READ MY WORK!!!! hating does nothing but discourage me and lower my already non-existent confidence in my writing. pls leave me alone, if you don't have anything nice to say; don't say anything. i LOVE all my positive asks and comments, they make my day. don't ruin it for me.

Prologue: hapter 1: Chapter 2: Chapter 3: Chapter 4: Chapter 5 Chapter 6:

Six months, that's how long it's been since Bruce exiled you to New York and left you alone once again. It's been 387 days since Tiffany Maverick pulled the rug from beneath your feet and ensnared your family in her web of lies and manipulation. For six months, your family ignored you, only Alfred sending you the occasional care package which you promptly threw in the garbage.

You wish Tiffany and Damian were as content with ignoring you as the rest of the family but unfortunately, they went out of their way to rub their closeness in your face by sending you pictures of family movie night, family game night, and the family attending their school events. It made you angry at first, before you saw how funny it was. A family of billionaires, a family of detectives, a family of vigilantes, sitting next to a spy; obliviously feeding her insider information. The Batman, sitting grinning ear to ear next to a girl who could be his downfall.

Surprisingly, boarding school was amazing. The boys were hot, though most arrogant and dumb, they were all loaded and into you. The girls idolized you from the moment you walked in, your word was law around here and the power felt amazing. You decided what was in and out, who was hot and who was not; a huge difference and change of pace from the years of bullying and ridicule at Gotham Prep.

The charm came with your new abilities, most likely. Sure, the first two months were fucking painful and exposed you to pain you didn't think was possible but it was a small price to pay. It was nothing for the power of being able to charm and flirt your way out of just about anything, being able to eject venom with the slightest trace of your fresh set of acrylics, being able to literally bite people with your fangs and have them enjoy it, sensing heat signatures and feeling emotions and eyes on you, having the ability to give literal bone-crushing hugs, and so many things you haven't even discovered.

Not to mention your random overnight makeover! Suddenly, your figure was to die for, perfect in all senses of the word. Your skin gleamed and shimmered in the light, long shed away were all the blemishes and scars. Your hair always shiny and your teeth always pearly white, albeit a bit sharp. You're the image of beauty.

Who cares about the price when the product was this good anyway?

Who needed familial love when everyone here worshipped you? That new view and utter hatred for the family is what convinced you to accept Ariele, your boarding school bff and roomie,'s offer to spend summer break with her family in the south of france. Of course, you wanted to go back to manor for a week before meeting her there. Alfred asked you to come and though you were angry at him, you missed the old man. You swore to yourself that you'd only stay the night, catch up with Alfred, and ignore your 'family' then promptly spend the summer half naked, tanning on a super yacht with your girls.

Little did you know that you'd never make it to france, in fact, you wouldn't even make it out the manor now that Tim discovered the truth and told the rest of the family.

Tim Drake noticed things. Small things. Minute details that other people might overlook. That's how he found the truth.

It started with the cooking. Tiffany had casually mentioned one evening that she’d found some old recipes in the manor’s archives, recipes that you had once written down, hoping to impress Damian with Arabic dinners and desserts. Tiffany had barely glanced at the handwritten notes before she had offered to make dinner that night—a perfect replica of your signature stuffed cabbage leaves, Malfoof, as you called it.

Tim had been there when it happened. He’d recognized it immediately. The dish was one of your favorites, one you had made for family dinners. It was too familiar, too precise for Tiffany, it lacked the usual love and effort.

Then came the awards. It was subtle at first, too. Tiffany casually dropping that she had “entered a local baking competition” and how much fun it had been to win. Tim had known that you had been the one to actually win that competition the year before, he remembered rolling his eyes as you foolishly tried to impress him. But when he checked the award Tiffany had won? It looked eerily similar to the one that you had earned. Tiffany didn’t even bother hiding her gloating as she showed it off, calling it “another step toward making Gotham proud.”

Tim’s stomach churned. It wasn’t a coincidence. Tiffany was stealing your life and he was the only one that saw it. Who knows what else she was stealing.

The pieces clicked into place when he found the old photo albums. Tiffany had been snooping around the library one afternoon, pulling out albums that had been tucked away in the back, ones that hadn’t been touched in years. They were full of memories of your achievements, pictures of family vacations, awards won for charity work and academic excellence. Baby photo's, old camera's, journals, even old clothes.It wasn’t just admiration. It was an obsession.

He saw her dig through and read every one of your old entries, saw her stare at pictures and attempt to manuever her body how you stood, but what really creeped him out was when she started tracing over your handwriting.

Tim couldn’t let it go. This was insane. It was almost as if Tiffany wanted to wear your skin.

It wasn’t that he wanted to make Tiffany an enemy or villainize her, quite the opposite actually, he'd been ignoring her strange behavior and smell for a year now because of how fond he was of her. But this? This was crossing a line. She wasn’t just trying to fit in anymore, this was dangerous.

He now suspected there was more to Tiffany than just her obsession with your life and after putting the pieces together, it was becoming clear: Tiffany was playing a much deeper game. She wasn’t just trying to steal your identity, she was stealing information, too.

Tim’s investigative skills had been honed through years of being the tech guy of the Batfamily, and when something felt off, he didn’t ignore it. Not anymore, he started tracking small anomalies—times when Tiffany’s presence seemed too convenient, moments when crucial data about Gotham’s underworld went missing from the Batcomputer, or when confidential mission details were leaked through channels Tim knew the Batfamily didn’t use. Times when the Joker seemed to know the family's course of action and times when villains knew Duke's plans.

That’s when it clicked.

Tiffany wasn’t just trying to fit in with the family. She was spying. Her affections with the family were a cover for something darker. She had been gathering intelligence for a shadowy organization, feeding them vital information about their operations. This was bigger than him—this was a full-blown infiltration. Tiffany was working for someone else, someone dangerous.

Tiffany’s betrayal ran deep, and her spying wasn’t just about information anymore; it was personal. She had been stealing pieces of your life, your successes, your talents , your family. She had slowly taken everything that you had worked for and twisted it into her own false narrative. It was sickening.

Tim couldn’t stand it anymore. He had dug through encrypted files, tracked hidden transmissions, and pieced together cryptic conversations. Tiffany wasn’t just trying to steal your identity for the sake of becoming the perfect family member. No. She was mimicking your cooking and baking skills, down to the awards she had won for those very talents. She had been trying to erase you and replace you with a manufactured version of herself.

It was almost too much for Tim to handle. But there was something even worse lurking beneath the surface: the deeper he dug, the more it became clear that Tiffany wasn’t just feeding information to criminals. She had been feeding off your spirit, your presence and she had nearly replaced you entirely.

Now he just needed to tell the other.

The tension in the Batcave could be cut with a knife as Tim stood before Bruce, Dick, Jason, Damian, Duke, Cass, Steph, Barbara, and Alfred, ready to show them what he had discovered.

“I’ve been tracking Tiffany’s movements for the last few days,” Tim began, his voice low but sharp. “And I found something that’s... unsettling.”

Bruce, who had been scanning a mission report, looked up with interest. Dick turned to Tim, a puzzled expression on his face. Alfred stepped forward, his usual composed demeanor now replaced with a rare concern. Even Damian looked confused.

“What did you find, Master Tim?” Alfred asked, his tone calm, but there was a flicker of unease in his eyes.

Tim didn’t hesitate. He clicked a button on the computer, and the large screen behind him flickered to life. A series of encrypted files appeared—mission logs, surveillance footage, and even intercepted communications. The Batcave was suffocating in its silence as Tim presented the evidence to Bruce, Dick, Jason, Alfred, and the others. His fingers flew over the keyboard, and every new image, every new file, felt like a punch in the gut.

There was a long silence as everyone processed the information. Bruce’s usual stoic expression faltered for a moment, and Dick clenched his fists. The weight of the revelation was hitting hard, but it wasn’t just the betrayal that hurt. It was that someone in their midst had been pulling the strings behind their backs for a year.

The data was damning. It was all there, proof that Tiffany had been copying your recipes, your designs, your machines, even stealing the culinary awards that you had earned over the years. And on top of that, she had been siphoning critical Batfamily intel to an unknown organisation. The information was so sensitive, it could have jeopardized every single one of them.

“Do you see it now?” Tim’s voice was quieter, but his anger was unmistakable. He flicked the last file onto the screen. Tiffany’s false accomplishments, stolen directly from you. The stolen recipes. The mission intel sent out from the Batcomputer under her watch. “All of us have been blind to it.”

“About a month ago,” Tim said, “I found an odd encryption pattern in the Batcomputer—something I’ve never seen before. When I decrypted it, I found a set of mission details. Ones that shouldn’t have left the system. I traced the origin back to Tiffany.”

Alfred's face tightened as he took in the footage on the screen. It was a recording of Tiffany accessing classified Batfamily data, tapping into their most sensitive files.

“She’s been stealing information,” Tim continued, his voice gaining intensity. “Every single time she’s interacted with the Batcomputer, she’s been sending that data out to an unknown address. I can't track where it's coming from, it's too advanced; even for me.

“Impossible,” Bruce muttered, but his eyes were narrowing in disbelief. “Why would she—?”

“Because she’s a spy,” Tim interrupted, “and it gets worse. She’s been feeding them everything. Our weaknesses, our next moves, our schedules. She’s not just a mole in the manor. She’s been working against us this whole time. She's why so many missions have failed.Tim’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not just the family’s accomplishments she’s been stealing. She’s been getting close to each of us, using our trust. She knows things, personal things, and she’s been leaking that information. She’s been feeding it to the highest bidder, giving Gotham’s worst players a playbook for taking us down.”

Dick’s face twisted with disbelief. “She was pretending to be (y/n), taking her accomplishments as her own, but—” He trailed off, his voice faltering. “How could we have let this happen? How did we not notice?”

Jason’s voice cut through the heavy silence, rough and sharp, like a crack of thunder. He stepped forward, fists clenched. “I should’ve known. She’s been playing everyone, pretending like she’s all sweet and innocent, but she was using all of us.” Jason’s eyes flicked to the screen, then back at Tim, his face a mask of fury. “She lied to me. She’s been lying to all of us. And she’s been trying to replace her.” His hand slammed onto the table, and the anger in his voice was unmistakable. “She doesn’t belong here. We trusted her. We all trusted her.” Jason’s anger bubbled over. This betrayal, the way Tiffany had wormed her way into their lives, made him see red

He couldn’t keep it in any longer. “I should’ve known,” Jason spat, pacing in circles, his fists clenched tight at his sides. “I let her get close to me. I let her in, we all did! And now look at this. She’s been pretending to be everything she’s not. She’s been trying to take her place, her rightful place in this family!”

Alfred, who had been silent until now, cleared his throat, his voice filled with quiet but growing fury. “I should have seen it,” he muttered, his gaze darkening. “I was too lenient with her. I allowed her to slip through the cracks, to play at being part of this family. I should have known better.” His usually calm demeanor was cracking, and the regret in his voice was palpable.

Bruce’s lips pressed into a thin line as the weight of Tim’s words sank in. His eyes hardened as he stared at the screen, disappointment creeping into his features. Tiffany had been their guest, their supposed family, and this whole time, she had been playing them all. You had tried to warn them.

Duke, who had been standing quietly at the back of the room, spoke up. His voice was low but steady.

“I knew something was off,” Duke said, his eyes fixed on the screen. “I couldn’t put my finger on it, but... she’d been acting weird around me. Always asking questions—asking about the family, the missions, everything. I thought I was paranoid.”

Damian had always been fiercely protective of what he considered his, no one could ever doubt that. He mocked you, saw you as his pathetic bastard older sister, he had wanted to hurt you. But now, as the reality of Tiffany’s betrayal settled in, something darker began to take root inside him. He remember your unconditional love for him, how you took everything he said did to you with grace and compassion. He remembered how good you were to him. He noticed that everything he thought he loved about Tiffany was what she stole from you. His eyes burned with rage as he thought about how Tiffany had wormed her way into the family and his heart, how she’d stolen your accomplishments, and how she’d attempted to erase his sibling from the very fabric of their world.

She was trying to replace her. That thought alone made his fists tighten, nails biting into his palms.

It had been a long time since Damian had felt this kind of protective rage. He was the blood of the Wayne family, the one who deserved to be at the center of it all, but you; his blood sibling, his equal, had always been ignored, undervalued ridiculed and neglected. And now Tiffany, a mere interloper, had dared to manipulate and tear him away from you.

Damian watched the family, his gaze flicking to each of them as they tried to process the betrayal. The anger from his family was palpable, but there was something else there too: possessiveness. Protectiveness. regret. They weren’t just angry at Tiffany for what she had done to you, they were furious at themselves for pushing you away and leaving you alone and unprotected in New York.

You were his responsibility, his blood, and no one; not even Tiffany, was going to steal you away from him. He had always wanted to prove his superiority to the others, but now that wasn’t his focus. His attention was fixed solely on bringing you back to him, where you belonged.

Cass, who had been silently observing, nodded. Her face was unreadable, but the tension in her jaw told Tim that she, too, had been sensing something wrong for weeks.

Steph, ever the sharp observer, had her arms crossed over her chest, her usual sarcasm now tempered with a cold seriousness. “I knew she wasn’t perfect, but this? This is next-level crazy. Are you sure bout this Time?” She leaned forward, her voice suddenly harder.

Barbra was too shocked to say anything. This was not how today was supposed to go.

Alfred glanced toward Bruce. “Master Bruce,” he said softly, “the level of infiltration, this is something I never anticipated. We should have seen the signs.”

Bruce’s expression was steely. “We were too distracted, too willing to accept her presence as part of the family. We let our guard down.”

“That’s not just her fault,” Dick interjected. “We’ve all been too trusting. Especially with everything that happened with (y/n).” His voice hardened as he glanced at the screen again, eyes flicking to Tim. “What now? What do we do about it?”

Tim stepped forward, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. “I’ve already notified our allies. The information she’s passed is enough to give this organization an upper hand in Gotham, maybe beyond. She hasn't revealed our identities but she might soon. we can’t let her get away with it. She’s been playing us this whole time.”

Steph threw her hands up in exasperation. “So what, we just let her go? She’s been lying to us, manipulating us for months! ?”

Tim’s eyes were cold, calculating. “We’ll have to trap her. Use the information she’s already stolen to set her up. Once we confront her, we’ll make sure she doesn’t get away.”

Bruce’s fists were clenched at his sides, his jaw set in stone. He had failed [Y/N]—he had failed his child. The weight of that was too much for him to bear. “This ends now. We’re going to fix this.”

Ok yall since apparently 8 ppl think my work is absoulte shit and and SURE i knew how they felt this is pretty rushed and i feel like it sucks! anyway!! i hope at least some people enjoy <33 send in nice aks and questions and ideas pls. its so fun answering them. yall are mind readers and are so creative!! lmk if there's any typos bc I copy-pasted half of it from my notes app. yeah i did write half of this when i was supposed to be in class, and??? Next chapter Tiffany gets confronted, reader comes home, Batfam start groveling and regretting their actions, sort of on their way to yandere-ism and make reader move back to gotham to be closer to "family"