#Evrard

[detournementsmineurs]

"Panneaux de Porte Ornés de Génies Féminins" provenant de la "Maison Bélanger" hôtel particulier construit par l'architecte Bélanger (1787) dans la "Salle de Direction" lors de la visite-guidée du "Crédit Municipal" organisée par Morgane Evrard pour Des Mots et Des arts dans le cadre des Journées Européennes du Patrimoine, Paris, septembre 2024.

[ffxiv-swarm]

prompt 4: reticent

My feelings for you go far beyond friendship.

It’s simple, that thought. It drops into his mind like rain on an otherwise unremarkable gray day, one where he’s not particularly burdened by the work of caring for his free company because Alan has shown up for a visit. Busari’s out—adventuring again, paying their bills—so it’s him and the Nagae sisters and Enkhtuya, and Harumi’s gotten Alan to help with lunch for their clients. Alan fits in like he was born to be standing at the counter chopping lettuce, sleeves rolled up to reveal sinewy forearms and an escaping tendril of brown hair flopping in his face. Evrard’s fingers itch to push it back, but—Alan’s wearing his bandana and it wouldn’t be worth the risk of revealing his third eye. Yes.

They’ve been closer. They’d had to share a bed when he first hauled an injured decurion out of the snow, for the Fury’s sake. (And he’d been warm and strong and Evrard is not going to think about that now.) But sitting on this bench, just looking at him from across the room, Evrard’s heart lodges in his throat.

He’s known Alan is attractive. He isn’t blind. And watching him in battle...well, that would stir the blood of a dead man. But attraction is one thing, easily ignored. The slowly spreading warmth through Evrard’s chest at the sight of Alan Vesper simply existing in his space, bumping Harumi lightly out of the way and cracking a faint smile at something she’s said, as far from the brittle sharp edges of Alanais pyr Venditor as it’s possible to be—

No. They are friends. They will only ever be friends. He has a lover he is quite fond of, thank you, and Alan has a girlfriend he is wild about and who would probably bite his face off if she even thought he was competition. Not that he is. He won’t be.

“Evrard!” Alan calls. “You want anything?”

He shakes his head, not trusting himself to speak.

Alan shrugs and continues assembling sandwiches. Evrard sends a fervent prayer to the Fury.

The day passes.

Two years pass.

He is single, now. Camp Broken Glass is nothing like the oven-baked heat of Ul’dah. Alan has grown braver, bolder, more sure of himself. More beautiful. His girlfriend is here as well, and she is the bright brief flash of lightning across his eyelids. When they aren’t off fighting or working to make the lives of the Garleans easier, they’re curled together like two crescent moons. He can’t even be jealous. (He could. But they adore each other, and he isn’t sure which of them he envies more.)

Once again, he’s sitting back and watching Alan work. This time he’s sipping ether potions and rolling bandages, while Alan’s taken over another table in the mess hall in the service of entirely disassembling and cleaning his gunblade. Gantsetseg is leaning over the back of his chair, gesturing animatedly as she suggests upgrades that she swears will not explode in his hands. Alan hums thoughtfully as he tightens a screw; he’s wearing fingerless gloves that are almost worse for the direction of Evrard’s thoughts than bare hands would have been.

(He broke his vow of chastity long ago, with a man who’s turned out to be unworthy of it. He keeps thinking about that tiny bed in Our Lady’s Mercy with the wind hissing through the cracks and Alanais pyr Venditor curled up between him and the wall.)

Evrard takes one slow breath. Another. Another.

Gantsetseg’s tail has flipped lazily into Alan’s lap. He doesn’t seem to mind the spikes at all.

I...

He doesn’t even let himself finish the thought.

Alan is grinning. It’s not at him.

He’s pretty sure the Fury won’t help him now.

[most-datable-datable-bracket]

ROUND 1 MATCH 97

Evrard propaganda:

“In a game full of political intrigue and backstabbing, Evrard is one of the few romance options that is entirely for love. He’s a commoner. Elodie gains nothing politically by marrying him, which actually makes marrying him rather difficult as either her approval has to be high enough that nobody cares if her marriage doesn’t benefit the kingdom OR he has to ingest poison on Elodie’s behalf. I will attempt to marry him every time or die trying. (I die trying a lot.)”

Mori propaganda:

“Do you like stinky cat men? Meet Mori. A shameless punk rocker who is in a band and turns into a bakeneko. He is awful (affectionately). I can't describe him better than this. 

Tri City Monsters is an 18+ game coming out next year about 3 ROs who are on skipping out on their demon deals and on the run from Enforcers.”

[postcard-from-the-past]

Ville-Evrard psychiatric ward in Neuilly-sur-Marne, eastern suburbs of Paris

French vintage postcard

[psykhet]

cemetery of laeken, brussels.

the story of a marble worker evrard flignot who devastated by the death of his wife built a mausoleum for her. at first look inside, there is a mourner reaching out to an empty wall. but, once a year, on the day of the summer solstice, the sun draws a light that recalls this love for almost a century.

[kevinfeiges]

Thibaut Evrard | Escort Boys - Episode 3

[justablah56]

hello i would love to see bileyg and evrard hanging out if you are willing to draw them

I am absolutely willing to draw them , here you go !

[oklotea]

Click for better quality

Help me, my dear friend!

Sooooooo

Because these two have literally been occupying my mind the moment I found out about simonne's existence, I decided to draw them!!!!!!! As one does.

These two together, specifically Simonne, ARE SO UNDERAPPRECIATED

AGHJJHH I WISH WE KNEW MORE ABOUT HER AND MARAT'S LIFE TOGETHER

Well. We know quite a handful of information about them but IT'S NOT ENOUGH FOR ME

Whyyyyyy aren't there more people talking about simonne. She is so awesome. She's extremely politically active, attending the cordeliers club even after marat died, literally funding the publication of his newspapers that would change the hypothetical political tides of France during the revolution and cause big changes for the better, HER DEDICATION TO MARAT IN GENERAL, TO THE POINT OF PROTECTING MARAT'S LIFE FROM LAFAYETTE'S AGENTS MULTIPLE TIMES OVER THE COURSE OF TIME THEY KNEW EACH OTHER, because she truly saw something in him that most people, even to this day, don't see. They understood each other, and not a lot of people can say they understand marat. How she stood by him, even when his chronic illness got worse, and more people were out to get him, their entire relationship is just..... It's just so special to me.

I kind of hate myself more and more by the day because of my chronic illness, aaaand I feel like I'm not worth any dedication from anyone. Because. I feel like i'm just too much to deal with. Too much to take care of. My back pains, constant low energy, and just!!!!!! Never as good as I could be!!!! Aaaahhhh!!!!!! Hahahaha

But the existence of these two. Like. It might sound silly but I feel hopeful knowing they existed. That despite everything horrible that was sent towards marat, despite his illness becoming worse and worse... He was going to be okay at the end, because he had simonne, who was never going to give up on him!!!! Because he was worth the hard work!!!!! And she loved him!!!!!! And he loved her!!!!!! And I won't ever allow anyone to forget them!!!!!! You hear me?!??? Now who wants to be my simonne?!?!!!!?!

[thatsideofacorner]

The bride and the rat man

I'm so sorry Marat I don't mean it yes i do

[aedesluminis]

Since today is Simonne Évrard's birthday I thought it was nice to share my translation, which I did for some friends, of her biography written by the historian Stefania di Pasquale. The books also talks about Simonne's husband, Jean-Paul Marat and sister-in-law, Albertine Marat.

You can find it here.

This is my first ever serious translation work and I'm no professional, so if you notice some mistakes, let me know and I'll fix them ^_^

[fanaticalfanfantasy]

Minor spoilers for Campaign 2 I guess:

Listen I really don’t wanna ship bileyg with anyone cause the man really seems to miss his wife and kids but….

Lapin/Evrard is like.. right there

[detournementsmineurs]

"Panneau de Porte Ornés de Génies Féminins" (détail) provenant de la "Maison Bélanger" hôtel particulier construit par l'architecte Bélanger (1787) dans la "Salle de Direction" lors de la visite-guidée du "Crédit Municipal" organisée par Morgane Evrard pour Des Mots et Des arts dans le cadre des Journées Européennes du Patrimoine, Paris, septembre 2024.

[ffxiv-swarm]

prompt 22: cultural differences

He’d kept his temper.

He was very proud of himself for keeping his temper.

But the souls—the regulators—and the Alexandrians were so bloody cavalier about it, about tearing the very fabric of a person’s self apart for currency—

“This is wrong,” Mistress Leveilleur had spat out, and he’d bitten the inside of his cheek and thought that the word he would use was blasphemy.

But he hadn’t said anything, though by the way Alan and Gan were both eyeing him they clearly rather feared he was going to. The rest of their little band looked ill at ease themselves, which was oddly cheering. At least he wasn’t wholly alone. The floating mechanical contrivance calling itself Cahcuia had burbled on—he’d been peripherally aware of Gan asking questions and Miss Ritanelle taking furious notes—and the meeting continued without further incident. He’d taken in absolutely none of it.

He needed fresh air. A drink. A good, solid scream. In the moment, he’d settle for the fresh air.

Master Gallius had exited the cave ahead of him, staring fixedly into the distance in the manner of a man who needed either a cigarette or a stiff drink. There was a muscle twitching in his cheek. Evrard sympathized wholeheartedly.

Finally, the man broke the silence. “Far be it from me to cast aspersions on another’s practices,” he began tightly, his accent sharper in the consonants than it usually was.

“Then I will do it for you,” Evrard growled. They could speak freely here, for the moment, and Master Gallius was a distant enough acquaintance that he didn’t need to feel too ashamed of his candor. “‘Tis blasphemous, what they do—”

Gallius spun to face him, violet eyes alight. “Yes! You understand!” He gestured wildly as he spoke, words evidently failing him.

“I am a Halonic priest. Of course I understand.” It came out sharper than he intended, and they both winced. Evrard dropped his gaze to the stony ground and muttered, “Your objections are...somewhat different than mine, I assume?” Of course they would be. Garlemald had no gods—he well remembered Alan needing the concept explained when they’d first met—but he’d gathered that their varying schools of philosophy evened out to a broadly similar moral code once you made it past all the imperialism in the way.

“Well.” Master Gallius cleared his throat. “I would not call it a blasphemy. We have little concept of that. But to destroy the memories of the dead...”

He paused so long that Evrard was almost tempted to prompt him. His mouth moved silently as he thought.

Finally, he continued, “We do not venerate the—the complete soul, as you do. But the fact that the regulators strip away the memories of the deceased—that is what I call a crime. Without the memories of those who have gone before, how do we know where we come from? What drives us onwards? Were it not for my father’s memory...” He trailed off, grimacing.

Evrard did him the courtesy of studying a wind-carved stone arch in the distance as he murmured, “’Tis the same for me. I cannot think of the man I would be now, if I did not hold the memories of my parents in my heart. Not to mention those who mourn, and yet cannot even remember the loved ones they mourn for.”

Gallius heaved a gusty sigh. “...We clean graves,” he said softly. “Every year. To venerate our ancestors. I did not see a cemetery in the Outskirts.”

Well, that added an entirely new level of horror.

Alas, before they could discuss that, Wuk Lamat was ambling out of the cave herself, followed by their friends, and they had to be polite again.

[transrevolutions]

the whiplash of reading through l'ami du peuple and seeing marat complain about how the government is using its budget for ceremonial bullshit instead of attending to public needs and then remembering how the government reacted to marat's death... he really was worth more to them as a symbol than as a living critic.

[postcard-from-the-past]

Street scene in Ville-Evrard, eastern suburbs of Paris

French vintage postcard

[4letteraroace]

EEEEEEK!!! rwd Open and Shut episode 1 was so good!!!

Spoilers under the cut :3

Bileyg has so much family. He’s got his wife, a daughter, and so much extended family. It just brings me so much joy. Because he loves them. He loves them so much. And he’s so lawful good. Turns away when Ingrid picks locks, gets after Oobtaglor for demanding payment from a woman who’s son was just kidnapped (adjacent from the job they were already doing), respects Evrard’s privacy regarding the whole revenant thing. He’s a good guy.

Ingrid Starling the woman you are <3 sophia play a character without someone yelling at her through a sending stone challenge 2024: level impossible. My girl is networking. She is doing the most at all times.

Evrard you funky little ranger rabbit revenant. Got a spooky past and also infinite rizz. Austin literally made Wally roll a “rizz check”. I cackled.

Oobtaglor Oobtaglorbur. Monsieur Oob. Oobsie baby. Their ego is so big. They need to learn how to take a fucking hint. Need to learn how to shut their bragging mouth. Vrla thought too much, Oob talks too much. But i gotta be honest,,, im loving Noir’s singing.

Good episode! Can’t wait for next Friday!