#french ramble

[akuma74]

Since I saw many people complaining about Ace Attorney name change or something and that I have way too much time on my hand I present you:

Me showing you the name change in the french version and then re-translating them back to english so you can see the difference in word-play, edition 1 on the first game.

(All characters that are not mentionned are the one who don't have a name change or those that I don't care enough to remember their existence and even less their names, so don't ask me about them)

Now let's get started:

Main:

Miles Edgeworth: Benjamin Hunter, no wordplay here they just changed his name so he wouldn't be too hard to pronounce and remember for french kids. I hate it and love it at the same time.

Dick Gumshoe: Dick Tektiv, wordplay on "détective" which is kind of work but also not since in french this word is almost exclusively use for private detective, not cops.

First Turnabout:

Larry Butz: Paul Defès, wordplay with "poil de fesse" litterally "butt's hair", appropriate and that guy doesn't deserve a better name.

Winston Payne: Victor Boulay, play on "boulet" which is use to describe someone that is so bad and who screw up so much that they're a burden. Kind of like it better than the english one tbh

Frank Sahwit: Frank Khavu, play on "qu'à vu" litterally "saw it".

Second Turnabout:

Marvin Grossberg: Samuel Rosenberg, apparently no word play or joke here. But some people think that giving a name of jewish origin specifically to the corrupt lawyer may be based on anti-semitic stereotype.

April May: Marsha Vrill, play on "Mars-Avril" litterally "March-April".

Third Turnabout:

Wendy Oldbag: Flavie Eïchouette, play on "vieille chouette" a pejorative way to call an older woman which litterally mean "old owl".

Will Powers: Gustavo Lonté, play on "volonté" which is just "will", boring.

Cody Hackins: Kevin Miron, the joke is the name Kevin that's it. But to be more precise at the time the first game was released in France "Kevin" was internet slang who was kind of an insult toward kids spending way too much time online or others immature people lurking in the internet.

Fourth Turnabout:

Lotta Hart: Eva Cozésouci, play on "elle va causer des soucis" meaning "she is going to be trouble", which I find kind of more appropriate. Also not name related but they changed her "southern country accents" by a "Marseille accent" a southern french city whose accent is often mocked. Find it funny that If they're is one thing 'Murican and French share is their love of making fun of southern accents.

Fifth Turnabout:

Mike Meekins: Bill Ballaud, play on "ballot" which mean someone dumb and quite clumsy

Damon Gaunt, Jake Marshall and Angel Starr: useless name change that annoy me, in order: Damien, Alex and Angélique.

Also bonus the blue badger become "le lutin bleu" which in english is something along the line of "blue elf".

I let you decide if this is better or worse...

and if I do that for the rest of the games.

[french-toast-enjoyer]

being a symbrock fan who's friends with like, normal Spider-Man fans is so funny cause like. you get to hear their expectations for Venom 3. "I hope they have a canon Spider-Man!" "I hope it's rated R!" yeah well I hope they elope in Vegas at a 24-hour wedding chapel and their marriage is officiated by a Prince impersonator. their wedding rings cost no more than 400 dollars and when venom kisses the groom there's so much tongue that both Eddie and the court-appointed witness get lightheaded

[amateurvoltaire]

I feel that one of the most overlooked aspects of studying the French Revolution is that, in 18th-century France, most people did not speak French. Yes, you read that correctly.

On 26 Prairial, Year II (14 June 1794), Abbé Henri Grégoire (1) stood before the Convention and delivered a report called The Report on the Necessity and Means of Annihilating Dialects and Universalising the Use of the French Language(2). This report, the culmination of a survey initiated four years earlier, sought to assess the state of languages in France. In 1790, Grégoire sent a 43-question survey to 49 informants across the departments, asking questions like: "Is the use of the French language universal in your area?" "Are one or more dialects spoken here?" and "What would be the religious and political impact of completely eradicating this dialect?"

The results were staggering. According to Grégoire's report:

“One can state without exaggeration that at least six million French people, especially in rural areas, do not know the national language; an equal number are more or less incapable of holding a sustained conversation; and, in the final analysis, those who speak it purely do not exceed three million; likely, even fewer write it correctly.” (3)

Considering that France’s population at the time was around 27 million, Grégoire’s assertion that 12 million people could barely hold a conversation in French is astonishing. This effectively meant that about 40% of the population couldn't communicate with the remaining 60%.

Now, it’s worth noting that Grégoire’s survey was heavily biased. His 49 informants (4) were educated men—clergy, lawyers, and doctors—likely sympathetic to his political views. Plus, the survey barely covered regions where dialects were close to standard French (the langue d’oïl areas) and focused heavily on the south and peripheral areas like Brittany, Flanders, and Alsace, where linguistic diversity was high.

Still, even if the numbers were inflated, the takeaway stands: a massive portion of France did not speak Standard French. “But surely,” you might ask, “they could understand each other somewhat, right? How different could those dialects really be?” Well, let’s put it this way: if Barère and Robespierre went to lunch and spoke in their regional dialects—Gascon and Picard, respectively—it wouldn’t be much of a conversation.

The linguistic make-up of France in 1790

The notion that barely anyone spoke French wasn’t new in the 1790s. The Ancien R��gime had wrestled with it for centuries. The Ordinance of Villers-Cotterêts, issued in 1539, mandated the use of French in legal proceedings, banning Latin and various dialects. In the 17th and 18th centuries, numerous royal edicts enforced French in newly conquered provinces. The founding of the Académie Française in 1634 furthered this control, as the Académie aimed to standardise French, cementing its status as the kingdom's official language.

Despite these efforts, Grégoire tells us that 40% of the population could barely speak a word of French. So, if they didn’t speak French, what did they speak? Let’s take a look.

In 1790, the old provinces of the Ancien Régime were disbanded, and 83 departments named after mountains and rivers took their place. These 83 departments provide a good illustration of the incredibly diverse linguistic make-up of France.

Langue d’oïl dialects dominated the north and centre, spoken in 44 out of the 83 departments (53%). These included Picard, Norman, Champenois, Burgundian, and others—dialects sharing roots in Old French. In the south, however, the Occitan language group took over, with dialects like Languedocien, Provençal, Gascon, Limousin, and Auvergnat, making up 28 departments (34%).

Beyond these main groups, three departments in Brittany spoke Breton, a Celtic language (4%), while Alsatian and German dialects were prevalent along the eastern border (another 4%). Basque was spoken in Basses-Pyrénées, Catalan in Pyrénées-Orientales, and Corsican in the Corse department.

From a government’s perspective, this was a bit of a nightmare.

Why is linguistic diversity a governmental nightmare?

In one word: communication—or the lack of it. Try running a country when half of it doesn’t know what you’re saying.

Now, in more academic terms...

Standardising a language usually serves two main purposes: functional efficiency and national identity. Functional efficiency is self-evident. Just as with the adoption of the metric system, suppressing linguistic variation was supposed to make communication easier, reducing costly misunderstandings.

That being said, the Revolution, at first, tried to embrace linguistic diversity. After all, Standard French was, frankly, “the King’s French” and thus intrinsically elitist—available only to those who had the money to learn it. In January 1790, the deputy François-Joseph Bouchette proposed that the National Assembly publish decrees in every language spoken across France. His reasoning? “Thus, everyone will be free to read and write in the language they prefer.”

A lovely idea, but it didn’t last long. While they made some headway in translating important decrees, they soon realised that translating everything into every dialect was expensive. On top of that, finding translators for obscure dialects was its own nightmare. And so, the Republic’s brief flirtation with multilingualism was shut down rather unceremoniously.

Now, on to the more fascinating reason for linguistic standardisation: national identity.

Language and Nation

One of the major shifts during the French Revolution was in the concept of nationhood. Today, there are many ideas about what a nation is (personally, I lean towards Benedict Anderson’s definition of a nation as an “imagined community”), but definitions aside, what’s clear is that the Revolution brought a seismic change in the notion of French identity. Under the Ancien Régime, the French nation was defined as a collective that owed allegiance to the king: “One faith, one law, one king.” But after 1789, a nation became something you were meant to want to belong to. That was problematic.

Now, imagine being a peasant in the newly-created department of Vendée. (Hello, Jacques!) Between tending crops and trying to avoid trouble, Jacques hasn’t spent much time pondering his national identity. Vendéen? Well, that’s just a random name some guy in Paris gave his region. French? Unlikely—he has as much in common with Gascons as he does with the English. A subject of the King? He probably couldn’t name which king.

So, what’s left? Jacques is probably thinking about what is around him: family ties and language. It's no coincidence that the ‘brigands’ in the Vendée organised around their parishes— that’s where their identity lay.

The Revolutionary Government knew this. The monarchy had understood it too and managed to use Catholicism to legitimise their rule. The Republic didn't have such a luxury. As such, the revolutionary government found itself with the impossible task of convincing Jacques he was, in fact, French.

How to do that? Step one: ensure Jacques can actually understand them. How to accomplish that? Naturally, by teaching him.

Language Education during the Revolution

Under the Ancien Régime, education varied wildly by class, and literacy rates were abysmal. Most commoners received basic literacy from parish and Jesuit schools, while the wealthy enjoyed private tutors. In 1791, Charles-Maurice de Talleyrand (5) presented a report on education to the Constituent Assembly (6), remarking:

“A striking peculiarity of the state from which we have freed ourselves is undoubtedly that the national language, which daily extends its conquests beyond France’s borders, remains inaccessible to so many of its inhabitants." (7)

He then proposed a solution:

“Primary schools will end this inequality: the language of the Constitution and laws will be taught to all; this multitude of corrupt dialects, the last vestige of feudalism, will be compelled to disappear: circumstances demand it." (8)

A sensible plan in theory, and it garnered support from various Assembly members, Condorcet chief among them (which is always a good sign).

But, France went to war with most of Europe in 1792, making linguistic diversity both inconvenient and dangerous. Paranoia grew daily, and ensuring the government’s communications were understood by every citizen became essential. The reverse, ensuring they could understand every citizen, was equally pressing. Since education required time and money—two things the First Republic didn’t have—repression quickly became Plan B.

The War on Patois

This repression of regional languages was driven by more than abstract notions of nation-building; it was a matter of survival. After all, if Jacques the peasant didn’t see himself as French and wasn’t loyal to those shadowy figures in Paris, who would he turn to? The local lord, who spoke his dialect and whose land his family had worked for generations.

Faced with internal and external threats, the revolutionary government viewed linguistic unity as essential to the Republic’s survival. From 1793 onwards, language policy became increasingly repressive, targeting regional dialects as symbols of counter-revolution and federalist resistance. Bertrand Barère spearheaded this campaign, famously saying:

“Federalism and superstition speak Breton; emigration and hatred of the Republic speak German; counter-revolution speaks Italian, and fanaticism speaks Basque. Let us break these instruments of harm and error... Among a free people, the language must be one and the same for all.”

This, combined with Grégoire’s report, led to the Décret du 8 Pluviôse 1794, which mandated French-speaking teachers in every rural commune of departments where Breton, Italian, Basque, and German were the main languages.

Did it work? Hardly. The idea of linguistic standardisation through education was sound in principle, but France was broke, and schools cost money. Spoiler alert: France wouldn’t have a free, secular, and compulsory education system until the 1880s.

What it did accomplish, however, was two centuries of stigmatising patois and their speakers...

Notes

(1) Abbe Henri Grégoire was a French Catholic priest, revolutionary, and politician who championed linguistic and social reforms, notably advocating for the eradication of regional dialects to establish French as the national language during the French Revolution.

(2) "Sur la nécessité et les moyens d’anéantir les patois et d’universaliser l’usage de la langue francaise”

(3)On peut assurer sans exagération qu’au moins six millions de Français, sur-tout dans les campagnes, ignorent la langue nationale ; qu’un nombre égal est à-peu-près incapable de soutenir une conversation suivie ; qu’en dernier résultat, le nombre de ceux qui la parlent purement n’excède pas trois millions ; & probablement le nombre de ceux qui l’écrivent correctement est encore moindre.

(4) And, as someone who has done A LOT of statistics in my lifetime, 49 is not an appropriate sample size for a population of 27 million. At a confidence level of 95% and with a margin of error of 5%, he would need a sample size of 384 people. If he wanted to lower the margin of error at 3%, he would need 1,067. In this case, his margin of error is 14%.

That being said, this is a moot point anyway because the sampled population was not reflective of France, so the confidence level of the sample is much lower than 95%, which means the margin of error is much lower because we implicitly accept that his sample does not reflect the actual population.

(5) Yes. That Charles-Maurice de Talleyrand. It’s always him. He’s everywhere. If he hadn’t died in 1838, he’d probably still be part of Macron’s cabinet. Honestly, he’s probably haunting the Élysée as we speak — clearly the man cannot stay away from politics.

(6) For those new to the French Revolution and the First Republic, we usually refer to two legislative bodies, each with unique roles. The National Assembly (1789): formed by the Third Estate to tackle immediate social and economic issues. It later became the Constituent Assembly, drafting the 1791 Constitution and establishing a constitutional monarchy.

(7) Une singularité frappante de l'état dont nous sommes affranchis est sans doute que la langue nationale, qui chaque jour étendait ses conquêtes au-delà des limites de la France, soit restée au milieu de nous inaccessible à un si grand nombre de ses habitants.

(8) Les écoles primaires mettront fin à cette étrange inégalité : la langue de la Constitution et des lois y sera enseignée à tous ; et cette foule de dialectes corrompus, dernier reste de la féodalité, sera contraint de disparaître : la force des choses le commande

(9) Le fédéralisme et la superstition parlent bas-breton; l’émigration et la haine de la République parlent allemand; la contre révolution parle italien et le fanatisme parle basque. Brisons ces instruments de dommage et d’erreur. .. . La monarchie avait des raisons de ressembler a la tour de Babel; dans la démocratie, laisser les citoyens ignorants de la langue nationale, incapables de contréler le pouvoir, cest trahir la patrie, c'est méconnaitre les bienfaits de l'imprimerie, chaque imprimeur étant un instituteur de langue et de législation. . . . Chez un peuple libre la langue doit étre une et la méme pour tous.

(10) Patois means regional dialect in French.

[spn2006]

i love that irl misha collins’ take on fake french mistake world misha collins was just to make him faggier and whimpier. thats so beautiful

[theorahsart]

Robespierre and Saint-Just can hold their own against other politicians just fine. But, when it comes to each other...

[suiana]

(yandere! french fry chef entity x gn! reader)

"it's too salty!"

"it's too bland!"

"these are so soggy!"

you were always complaining about fries. no matter how good or bad they were, you always had something to say about them.

especially to his fries. that weird french fry chef at this new restaurant near you.

it's not that his fries were bad. it's that they were too good. and you were suspicious of it. i mean what could he have possibly put in them to make them so delicious?

"you! where's your fry chef?!"

"dearest customer please-"

"i need to talk to you fry chef now!"

the cashier sighs, disappointed that you weren't looking for her. however, she goes and calls for the chef, desperate to meet your demands.

you wait impatiently, tapping your foot against the floor as the cashier slowly returns with a tall figure dressed in white. your grimace returns as you point an accusing finger at the french fry chef.

"you! what did you put in your fries!"

the chef looks down at you, neck tilting in a weird angle before he answers in an oddly deep voice.

"cum."

[bluerosefox]

The Drakes

It's been years since the Bats had seen Red Robin much less Tim Drake-Wayne. It started with a rather dumb argument that after years of holding back his tongue and the stress of being a TEENAGE CEO that Tim finally ripped into them.

They were too stunned by the end of his speech, him also admitting that yes he has his own problems and mistakes but at least he's trying to make amends or get over himself unlike others. It was their prolonged silence that was the final straw for him it seemed though, because Tim finally announced he was done, he was done bleeding for those that kept him on the edge of the family and that he wanted to rest, and with that Tim turned and left the Batcave for the final time.

They of course didn't take Tim's retirement announcement seriously, after all Tim was the last person other than Bruce they all believed would ever leave the life of a vigilante and a hero behind, and they all knew Bruce would keep working on the 'mission' even as a frail old man. It took them a few weeks before one of them finally decided to go see Tim and try to... talk about everything he said.

Only when they reached Tim's Nest, they discovered it was empty and he was no where to be found did they realize he was serious. It was a quick call to Wayne Enterprises to see if he was in and Tam no doubt holding back her sharp response to them that she told them that Tim had stepped down from CEO weeks ago and hasn't been heard from since. The one who went to see Tim immediately called the others, which sent many of them onto goose chase of false leads, arguments, and pointing blame.

Despite looking for their long lost Red Robin, he was good at hiding his tracks and any who might have an idea where he could be weren't talking.

So yeah it's been a while since the Bats had heard any news relating to their lost bird.

So imagine their surprise when Ra's latest attempt to upset the balance in their family again (did he want Damian to return as his heir? Take control over Gotham in the shadow? Upset Bruce? None of them honestly knew what his plan was anymore. Same old song and dance) and having captured them all that he brought up Tim to them. Or rather "shame the Detective is going to be late, but I'm sure his little family shall inform of things once he gets here."

None of them were expecting for Ra's to look away from them and with a snap of his fingers, three assassins brought forth into the room two others. One was being dragged by two assassins, black hair, pale skin, and lean swimmers build of a body. He looked roughly around the age Tim would be. He was placed on the floor right by Ra's boots, arms and legs tied up, clearly but alarmingly breathing low and slow from the raise and fall of their chest. He wore a simple T-shirt but had dark jacket that was covered in stars, NASA logos, and other galaxy themed patches all over it, his dark jeans also held some star patches but also held everyday stains from being outside in the grass and other normal day to day thing. All in all this person seems like a normal civilian individual and none of the Bats knew why Ra's had taken him.

The other assassin that had walked into the room was holding a toddler, a girl from the little pigtails on her messy head indicated. Her hair was just as dark as the passed out male by Ra's and her skin was shade healthier than him. She wore grass stained and messy paints caked overalls with a plan shirt under it and two different kinds of kids shoes (one was a green with dinosaurs and the other blue with little stars). She, unlike the young man on the floor, was awake and was looking around the room while sucking her thumb in clear distress, she also used her free hand that wasn't in her mouth to push the assassin holding onto her away from her as far as she could and was squirming her tiny legs enough to kick their sides. Thankfully the assassin didn't look too hostile or upset meaning she wasn't doing to much damage or being too annoying.

"What a lovely family the Timothy has gained for himself don't you think? I will admit Daniel put up a rather interesting fight, it was only due to us having the element of surprise that we managed to take him down and his little Eleanor has his fighting spirit it seems." Ra's said as he slowly reached over to the toddler to lightly fiddle (just to unnerve them as well) with her hair. However the moment he touched her hair, the little girl's eyes flashed from frosty blue to neon bright green and she had spat her thumb out of her mouth in order to hiss like a cat at him, her little feet kicking hard enough to cause a small 'oomph' from the one holding her.

Ra's gave an amused chuckle as he stared at the toddler in fascination before also casting his gaze down at the passed out young man, remembering the way his eyes also had flashed from blue to green and the amount of power he had saw bubble to the surface when they had ambushed the two in their home. As Ra's said before, if they hadn't had the element of surprise on their side when they went after Timothy's little family it wouldn't had worked. No doubt little Eleanor Drake was a hint of power Daniel Drake held.

Ra's turned to look at the Bats, and could clearly see the emotions on their faces which amused Ra's deeply, and couldn't help but say "Although I wasn't expecting him to marry a being with pure Lazarus blood flowing in their veins. Quite a interesting discovery that was. And that his offspring seemed to carry it also from birth. What lovely and priceless boons he has granted the League to have once he joins us."

Ra's could clearly see the questioning, fear (for the family in his clutches), confusion, and disbelief on the Bats faces and knew it would be so entertaining to watch the little.. family reunion he had set into motion.

He was so amused watching Batman the others he never noticed the light twitch on Daniel's face or the shifting breathing pattern. When he would later check to see of the large amount of tranquilizers they had given Daniel was still in-effect he was none the wiser that it had already wore off and that Danny was merely bidding his time for a opening.

[wrenkos]

year of the dragon!

[littlefankingdom]

When Robin (and Nightwing, and Red Robin) is kidnapped or needs help, it's not a "damsel in distress" situation, it's a "damoiseau in distress" one. Let me explain.

In French, we have a masculine form for "damsel". "Demoiselle" refers to a young lady, "damoiseau" to a young lord (the age bracket is teen to unmarried young adult). And with how the majority of Robins are boys, they are damoiseaux, not damsels.

But also, the funny thing about "damoiseau" is that it sounds exactly as the word "lady", "dame", and "bird", "oiseau", put together. It's literally like saying "ladybird". And what Robins are? Birds.

The prononciation of damoiseau btw (phonetically): [damwazo]

[ahalliance]

rapid fire french rayou strikes again (transcript below the cut)

[Video transcript:

[ENG] Etoiles: I— I’m speedrunning it [Mario Party], but it’s like—

[FR] Etoiles: The next person to bust my balls by saying, ‘he’s going to miss the Ascension [French competitive event happening this Saturday 28/10]’ even though my plane is at six PM, you bunch of morons, it’s not because ZeratoR [Ascension event organiser] said once that I’d miss my plane that I will miss my plane, because what you guys don’t understand is that a plane doesn’t get missed if you arrive three hours in advance, and the last time I missed the plane was because my corresponding flight was one hour and a half [late]!

[ENG] Etoiles: I was just saying to my chat that I love them :)

Tina: Awhhh

Foolish: See, once again I have a feeling maybe that wasn’t—

End Video Transcript.]

[burn-before-reading]

blue is the colour of your eyes

joost klein x artist! reader

The overwhelming need to paint him. just fluff and rambling and being a nervous mess.

now has a prequel! read here

word count: 2.3k

a/n: supposed to be short blurb but it got away from me soooo anyway i haven’t tried to write anything in a hot second but Joost is inspiringggg so enjoy. Definitely wanna come back to this idea later possibly who knows. i don’t proofread anything btw so good luck

warnings: none except awkwardness, google translate Dutch, and a titanic reference.

RPF BELOW. PLEASE SKIP IF UNCOMFORTABLE. DONT REPOST TO OTHER SOCIAL MEDIAS OKAY PLS AND THANK YOU

You can’t seem to stop staring at him today. Two hours of putting pencil to paper trying to come up with literally ANY other idea and now your left with a pages full of Joost doodles.

He, of course, has no clue. drawing on his ipad on the other side of the couch. a movie playing in the background as the two of your got engrossed in your own work. who knows what he was doodling.

You were supposed to be brainstorming ideas for a painting for a group show coming up. The theme was vague and open ended. Love, in every sense of the word. Platonic, romantic, the secret third kind you didn’t even wanna think about right now.

You shouldn’t be thinking about Love and staring at Joost. You two were friends. He just sees you as a friend. Purely platonic.

Turning the next page over you give yourself a fresh start and start working on a couple thumbnails for possible paintings. You start scribbling a figure in the center. moving quickly to the background you add scribbles of flowers and leaves. making a short list to the side of plants to study later: Daisies, Sage, tulips.

Satisfied enough with the first thumbnail you scribble a few more in different poses. hands folded in their lap, resting on a table, holding a cigarette….wait.

you go back to the last sketch and notice you added a bit more details than intended. chunky glasses and a sharp haircut. you look back up at your accidental muse. He is still engrossed in his own art, but you manage to catch his eye after a minute when he looks up from his work.

his eyes pierced into your soul in that moment and the painting flew together in your head. Splashes of yellow and orange contrasting with the green of the plants. And his eyes. bright blue.

Why are his eyes so blue…

“you good?” he asks.

you dont know how long you were staring at him before you submitted to your own subconscious desires. Pencil tapping repeatedly on your sketchbook you muster up the courage to ask,

“can I paint you?”

his mouth gaped open slightly as that wasn’t exactly what he was expecting. He straightens his posture and shifts slightly in his seat.

“like… now?”

“No not now.. I just keep getting stuck on this idea and,, can i?” you gesture to the space next to him and he shimmies over slightly to give you permission to move closer. Now sitting next to him, you lean your book over for him to see.

“I just keep thinking about this idea of someone in a boquet of flowers, or just surrounded by flowers, and I want it to feel warm. I would be looking off to the side, or maybe smoking, i don’t know yet, but around you I imagined some Tulips and maybe sage to contrast your hair and..” you stopped as you felt yourself rambling and you look up. Bright blue staring back at you, full attention, hanging on your every word.

Comforting, yet still intimidating. You feel yourself want to shrink back into your half of the couch. explaining your ideas and baring your soul to this creature next to you that stole your attention and won’t give it back. This Fae that you gave your name to and now your theirs. At his beck and call at 9am when he texts you to hang out all of a sudden, so you cancel your own plans. Fae with bright blue eyes. stupid blue eyes.

what shade of blue are they?

his face looked interested, but still confused and hesitant, so you start to backtrack.

“You don’t have to agree, it was just an idea I had..” your pencil nervously taps the edge of your paper again and you look down and away from his face.

tap tap tap tap tap tap

Joost grabs your hand to stop your nervous tick and you glance back at him.

“No i want to, but… do i have to be naked?” his question breaks the tension and you burst out laughing.

“No. what? No! why would you think that?” you ask. he laughs as well.

“Ive seen your other studies of people, I didn’t know if this was gonna be like that one scene in titanic or,”

“Titanic? no no, I just want it to be you. We can agree on an outfit later if you are down for it but I just want you to feel like yourself.” he smiled and from this close you could see and the beautiful little details of his face. crows feet, dimples, each individual eyelash. His perfect blue eyes.

———

the next week you met up again, but this time you had arranged your studio up so you could sketch and photograph your model as needed. You had gathered your other needed models, a bouquet or two of flowers you had spent the last few days over analysing and studying. pages and pages of flower studies to make sure you had all the right angles needed when it came to the final painting. This next step you were slightly dreading.

It much easier to draw something when its not starting straight back at you.

Joost showed up later that day wearing a white button up short sleeve shirt, a black tie, and his usual chunky frames. his hair not as neat as it usually was but styled to suit the overgrown mullet look he had been sporting lately. Yellow roots growing in. He had badgered you all week about what he needed to wear and even though you said you trusted his fashion choices to pick a suitable outfit he insisted on a guideline. So you gave him one.

“Well people usually get flowers on a date, right? so i dunno, what would you wear on a date?”

“ Have you gotten flowers on a date before?”

“well… no, but typically thats a thing sometimes. it seems nice.”

“… Is this a date?”

“…its a collaboration.”

You guided him over to the corner you had set up as the make shift backdrop for him to model in. An old love chair you thrifted years ago sitting on rolled out black paper for the backdrop. some flowers in a pile of the floor for you to mess with later.

He sits down on the chair as you gather your needed materials to sketch. larger pieces of paper, charcoal and an assortment of graphite, watercolour paints, and your camera for when he can’t sit still any longer.

“okay i think im all set. lemme know whenever you’re comfortable and we can start okay?”

“okay.. do I just stare at you or..” he fidgets with a ring on his finger.

“find something to focus on right behind me. and just try to sit naturally. I just want you to pose in a way that feels naturally.” you state and pick up a piece of charcoal and bring it up to the easel.

Posing came a little naturally to Joost. He had done plenty of photoshoots before but he felt 100% more nervous about this one. It was more personal, more intimate. He had never really watched you work before, fully in your element, and it was so fascinating to him. yet… boring. He wondered how rich people in the past could stand for so long to get their portrait done, it had been two minutes and he was dying of boredom. His only entertainment was stealing glances at you and the faint music in the background.

“Can I talk?” he asked, careful not to move he head as he glanced at you. he saw you nod in his peripheral vision.

“Yea that should be okay, Ill let you know if i need you to stop for a second.”

“So… do you have people model for you usually?”

“No not really. most times I paint from life outside or just have to look for references online. Ive drawn friends before, but never for a bug painting. This one needed to be more personal tho.”

“more personal? How-“

“Wait can you turn back?” He had moved his head towards you fully with that last question. throwing off the perfect angle you had for his hair. “Sorry I’ll answer in a second just tilt your head a little..” you gesture with your hands and he tries to go back into position, but its not the same. He is still looking at you, that perfect shade of blue haunting you, staring you down. you look at the first sketch you had and now it just feels boring. “Maybe lets try a different pose.” the pencil tapping starts again as you think.

“Sorry, did I mess it up?” he looks away from you and runs in hand through his hair, giving it a new look. It urks you how much can change in a person with just one moment. With one turn it feels like an entirely new image.

“You’re fine, I just want something more interesting. Maybe if your hands were… can I?” He nods and you walk over to analyse his pose at a closer distance. Wiping your hands on your pants to eliminate any charcoal and sweat, you carefully pose his arms to rest on the armrests. You step back, to view your work.

“You were saying, what is this for again?” he asks. You are too engrossed in your project at this point to feel embarrassed talking about it.

“A group show between me and some old college friends. Ive been struggling on something to pick for the theme and it finally came to me the other day.” You fidgit with his left arm, deciding if it should be resting under his chin or falling from the armrest into his lap. “I just want this to be perfect..”

“Whats the theme?” You look at his and feel your face grow a little hot with what the answer is.

“uhh,, flowers! thats what we’re missing!” you avoid the question by running to grab one the fresh boquetes you bought this morning.

“I think maybe if you just hold these then you can-“ you foots catches on a pencil that had fallen, sending you crashing down and into Joosts lap in the chair, where he catches your arms to help you regain balance.

“are you okay?” You are growing more frustrated by the second and you don’t want to look up at him.

“yea, fine. Just gimmie a second.” Your eyes stay down at his lap where the bouquet now laid in a shaken mess of petals and leaves. still usuable, but not your perfect vision like you wanted.

“Maybe you should take a break for a second?” he insists and stands up the switch places so now you sit in the chair, and he is hovering above you. “You are getting really worked up over this, are you okay?”

“yea yea, im fine.” you take a deep breath to try and regain yourself. Looking up, the blue is now inches from your face as he stares are you with worry. For some reason, in this moment, you just feel like bursting. “Its your eyes. I can’t focus with em.”

“what?”

“You’re always so distracting, you know that?”

“If im so distracting then why ask me to model?”

“Its just for the theme. Like i said it came to me the other day and i can’t let it go now.”

“ what can’t you let go?”

“I think I might be falling in love-“ you stop yourself as the words fall out, but the confession is already spoken. Your eyes fall to your lap as you can’t bare to look at him in the moment.

“Lieverd…” he bring a hand up to delicately grab your cheek and tilt your head up so you look at him again. With the two of you staring again you glance between his eyes and his mouth, and he seems to understand. “can I?” he asks and you rise out of the seat to meet him halfway.

Lips meeting and moving together as you bring one hand to his hair and the other grabbing at his shirt collar to bring him closer. His free hand pulls your waist in as your lips move in sync, each of you waiting for the other to break the moment.

You pull away first and are immediately met with your foe, blue staring you down but now feel softer. You pull your hands away slightly and wince at the damage you had done.

“Shit! Your shirt!” His looks to see smudges of charcoal staining the collar from where you grabbed it. He laughs and just shrugs.

“I kinda like it.” he replies and leans back in to kiss you again. You kiss back and lean into it before breaking again.

“As fun as this is, ai do really want to finish the sketch.” Joost laughs and nods, giving you space to get up and he sits down once again.

“Can I take you on a date after this?” he asks.

“mmm maybe,” you tease,” Ive never dated one of my models before.” you pick up the charcoal one more time and put a new piece of paper on your easel.

“Im more than just a model, right? Im your muse.” he smirks and gets into a dramatic pose that he is surely going to complain about holding for more than a minute. “Now, Lieverd, Teken mij als een van jouw Franse meisjes.”

You two did not get much more work done that day.

[whiskeysorrows]

you ever think about how omnipresent the themes of colonialism are in hozier's discography. like right from the onset we have songs like foreigner's god and run, then later swan upon leda, butchered tongue, empire now and eat your young talking about ireland and the brutality of the consequences of british rule and how it defines people even generations later. you ever think about that???

[french-toast-enjoyer]

SO.

I'm overthinking again.

but like. Eddie in a dress shirt here. it's one of the only times we see him in anything other than the t-shirt shorts combo.

And it's obviously part of his tux.

does

Does this mean we go straight from Vegas fluff to final showdown angst.

sony. sony answer my calls. sony

[adoriels-tears-if]

Story of my life !!! 😅😅

[wastingstarsss]

Actually it’s late and I need to be asleep HOWEVER I AM HAVING THOUGHTS about Rumbelle. I feel like we’ve all just collectively glossed over the fact that Rum and Belle were separated for 30 years. That’s a long time dude. And no-no-no- they weren’t just separated. He believed, fully, wholeheartedly believed, that she was dead. FOR THIRTY YEARS. He mourned her, he grieved for her, he kept his love for her locked away inside for all those days and nights. And then Belle, sweet, sweet Belle. She spends a bit of time adventuring and getting out there and good for her! I love that for her! She deserved that. And then she gets trapped. How long do you think she was in Regina’s castle, stuck there wondering, will she ever see him again? And then she is amnesiac for 28 years. Do you think, when she woke up from the curse, do you think she thought for a moment that she was dreaming- that she was still in that little cell, locked up and alone and thinking of the man she loved? Do you think she’d thought of him so often that when she woke from the curse and saw him there, that she thought he was just another dream? And then the mental fog lifted and she realised oh- oh- he looks… different. His curse has lifted- who lifted his curse? But does that matter? Does it even matter? Because she’s been holding her love for him inside for so long and she just has to let it out, she has to tell him no matter the consequences. She finally found her way back to him, she won’t let that go, and Rumple? Sweet, grieving Rumple, he hears her say that she loves him and it’s like oh. He can let himself believe it this time. Not many people are lucky enough to get a second chance but he not only has that, she’s essentially been bought back to life, it’s like she’s been reanimated and given another go at it. She was dead, not physically but in his eyes she was dead, and suddenly she’s not anymore- and she’s with him, alive and saying that she loves him. And it’s so true in her eyes and in her hands, in the way she touches him so gently, in how she’s not afraid to be with him. To be soft with him.

Ugh it’s just… 30 years, dude. 30 years. For some people that’s half a lifetime.

[novuit]

I'm grieving so badly over the quotes I remember that I never got to write down, so I'm going to draw a bunch of doodles with the quotes I still remember before I thankfully forget it forever. And to the people doing gcses right now, let's celebrate the end of having to memorise quotes from british plays by getting sloshed over champers and then drink more seeing as we have more exams this week!!! :D

(Edexcel gave us easier questions than I thought, I don't know what I was so worried about, hahah...)