#i-uh-france

[jessiescock]

ok i got another one

i can’t seem to find a comprehensive list of dub languages online rn, these are the audio options i can select on my netflix account – not included in the poll but also available to me are hindi, indonesian, thai and a japanese audio description. idk tho if those are all that were produced or if there’s more options that are just not available in my region, lmk if there’s something else i missed here! also if you’ve listened to/watched multiple of these options do kindly tell which one(s) you like best!

[incorrect-hs-quotes]

DAVE: i want to get a bike but i dont want to become one of those guys who are INTO bikes. i dont wanna wear special spandex shorts—

DIRK: I don’t want that, either.

DAVE: —or watch the tour de france live

DIRK: The what?

DAVE: its like the olympics but just the part with bikes they hold it in france every year

DIRK: Oh.

DIRK: …

DAVE: …

DAVE: do you think it will ever come here

DIRK: What?

DAVE: the tour de france. they should take it on tour. more people might watch it then i mean the word “tour” is right in the name. they could call it the world tour de france

DIRK: I don’t know, wouldn’t it be the… “Tour de Whatever Country” then? Tour de Thailand? Tour de Australia?

DAVE: no you have to keep the france part in the title or you lose the whole branding thing

DAVE: or at least you have to say the whole thing in french including the country. like “france” is french for france

DIRK: How do the French say “Australia”?

DAVE: probably with an accent

[andytheoverthinker]

i am in desperate need of a frances hardinge fandom, please more people need to read those books

[fritzes]

😭😭😭

[doueverwonder]

me a couple months ago: man, daylight by David Kushner is so Spain & France

me just a few minutes ago: man, daylight by David Kushner is so Florida & Louisiana

me at this exact moment: hold on a fucking second--

[0mega-x]

Some nations and their birth/death date

- Britannia : born around 800BCE (beginning of British Iron Age); died around 500CE, but she had been getting weaker ever since Rome's forces left.

- Rome : born in 753BCE (Rome's fonding); died in 476CE, for obvious reasons

- Gaul (celtic) : born around 700BCE (between the Halstatt and La Tène cultures); died not long after the Gallic wars in 52BCE

- Germania : born around 750BCE (Nordic Iron Age) died not long after Rome's fall

- Frankish Kingdom/Empire: died in 843 (Treaty of Verdun), son of Germania

- Burgundian Kingdom/State: died in 1482 (end of the Burgundian War of Succession), daughter of Germania

- Frisian Kingdom: died 1523 (end or Frisian Freedom after a failed Frisian rebellion), son of Germania (and is either the biological or the adopted father of the Low Countries (or at least the Netherlands))

- France: born shortly before the Gallic Wars, son of Gaul

- England: born around 500 CE (first Anglo-Saxon kingdoms), he would fully become his "own" in 927 with the Kingdom of England, son of Britannia

- Spain: born somewhere during the Roman era, son of Rome

- Portugal: same as Spain, but earlier, son of Rome

- Netherlands: born shortly before the Roman conquest of Gaul (Belgae), son of idk who yet

- HRE: born in 486CE, when the Franks beat the Soissons Domain; died 1806 for obvious reasons, son of the Frankish Kingdom

- Middle Francia/Lotharingia: born in 843CE (Treaty of Verdun); died either 958CE (division of the Kingdom of Lotharingia) or 1190CE (Lower Lotharingia lost its territorial authority), daughter of the Frankish Kingdom

- Austrasia & Neustria: born in 511CE, died in 751CE, those boys were literally twins and they started the tradition of ✨️fratricide✨️ in the family (later carried on by France killing HRE), sons of the Frankish Kingdom

- Prussia: born 1226CE (creation of the State of the Teutonic Order)/born 1th century CE if we consider him an Old Prussian (Baltic tribe), son of how do I know

- Germany: born...1806(Confederation of the Rhine), 1815(German Confederation), 1866 (North German Confederation) or 1871 (Proclamation of the Reich)

Or he's HRE according to some... I don't know he's complicated...

[jean-dieu]

not me giving up my lifelong dream of becoming a university professor after a formation that really made me realizes the absolute dire state of research in that damn country

i ain't doing post docs for 1,7k euros a month until I'm 35, bye. Gonna grab my PhD in AI next year and fuck off in the industry.

[honey-dont]

hc that cesare can see in the dark like a cat bc it’s cool but also bc it means he gets the big goofy saucer pupils when he’s excited about something

[vague-bisexual-crimes]

i keep seeing you posting about frowan and ive not seen anyone else talking about it so why do you think theyre a good ship?

Oh boy, let me try to gather some coherent thoughts on this lol.

I think they’d mesh very well I think post canon Rowan relaxes a bit (read: gets therapy, stops trying to parent his band mates as much) and I think they’d meet at some sort of event that somehow The Ark is involved in and so is Universe City and Frances would have no idea who he is but she just like. asks him where the bathroom is or something and they just start chatting and Rowan slowly realizes she has no idea who he is and he finds it funny and he kind of likes the anonymity or the like personal-ness of talking to someone and getting to know someone without all these predispositions that almost everyone has about him because they think they know him. Anyway I think somehow The Ark comes up and Frances is like “isn’t that a band?” And Rowan is just like “yeah I hope so I’m in it” and she’s just like “oh that’s cool!” but she, again, has minimal to no idea who The Ark is so they just kind of move on and then they part ways for the night and run into each other at another event and get to chatting again and they exchange numbers (I also thought maybe instagrams but I think Rowan likes that he’s just a regular person to Frances and it’d be quick to tell he wasn’t if she saw his Instagram) and Rowan goes home and binges Universe City because she mentioned it and they start talking over text and FaceTime and they become really good friends and then they start hanging out more in person and they slowly just become really comfortable with each other and then I think Frances would be the one to say/do something that implied something romantic and Rowan is like well hang on yes and then they just start dating and they ARE a power couple and the internet loves them <3. Also like a month or so into dating Rowan like sits Frances down and explains to her that The Ark is kind of a big fucking thing and there’s a crazy fanbase and they WILL be crazy about her if they find out and Frances is just like. “ok. been there done that.” And Rowan is like “no they’ve been known to take it too far they stalked my ex” and she’s just like “that’s fine. we don’t have to keep it super secret I mean we’re both sort of public figures people will find out eventually.” So they don’t have like a whole Thing about it they just don't make an effort to hide it and surprisingly both fandoms take it very well lol. also after the second time they run into each other Frances mentions Rowan to Aled and Aled is like. "Frances. you were flirting with ROWAN. OMOMDI. all night and you DIDNT TELL ME?!??!" and shes like "yeah he's in a band, i think, he gave me his number" and Aled is like “YOU GOT ROWAN OMOMDI’S PHONE NUMBER??!?!?!”

Anyway I think their personalities would mesh well and I think Frances is very herself and is very chill about fandom’s perception of her and I think it helps Rowan relax and just enjoy like. life and I think he’s just very happy to be around her. And I think Rowan is very sweet and very caring and I think Frances would like how much he cares about his friends and his family and how passionate he is about music and yeah that’s the post I think sorry it’s kinda long and sorry I’m answering this ask a bit late but whadaya do when you’re struck with frowan inspo you’re struck with frowan inspo. might make a fic out of this not sure don’t quote me on that

[winterfromwof]

hfjONE theory because i love it so much and never have talked about it on here i think.

i think i know what ONE stands for. And no, it's not "objects never escape" like how i see some people on YouTube say. i think it might be "ONE Never Ends," and i know it's weird because, like... the acronym is in the acronym. But that's the point. it doesn't end. If an acronym is in an acronym, you'll have to say what the acronym in the acronym means, and if you have the same acronym in the same acronym, the acronym will never end.

Also, the last episode of ONE ended off on a cliffhanger, and it's called "Self-Titled," meaning you can decide how it ends, but you'll never know how it truly ends. It never ends.

ONE

Never

Ends

ONE.

[olympeline]

I've definitely been bitten by the writing bug for Hetalia. I just started a FrUK superhero AU fic based on a certain mid-00s movie. Going well, but I'd still love to have a beta look over it. Especially since I've been out of the fandom for so long and am rusty on details. My usual beta isn't into Hetalia so she can't help me, which is a bummer

So yeah, if you're a beta who's available and might be interested in taking a look over this fic, maybe get in touch? I'd be super grateful!

If not, please just enjoy some FrUK fun :>

Mr. & Mr. Bonnefoy-Kirkland

He was going to be late.

Francis rolled back the silk sleeve of his costume and checked his watch. Night had fallen outside the dingy warehouse where he and his allies were waiting, but on the ceiling a light blinked weakly. Providing just enough illumination for Francis to see the numbers on the face of his rolex. Scratch that, he was already late. Arthur would not be pleased, and Francis’s husband was never one to be shy about sharing his displeasure. Especially recently. Francis wasn’t foolish enough to have his phone on him at times like this but, if he had, he knew it would soon be blowing up with texts from his rightfully irritated spouse.

They’d quarreled about Francis’s lateness just last night when he’d come in long after dark. Francis’s excuse was work as always. Arthur hadn’t been in the mood to hear it.

“Too many nights in a row, Francis! For God’s sake, tell someone else to do it!”

“I can’t, cher. We are just so busy with the new line. They need me.”

“You’re telling me there’s not a single designer at Saint Bonnefoy who can fill in for you for one sodding night?” Arthur’s angry tone was laced with disbelief. “What the bloody hell did you hire them for, then?!”

“Forgive me, mon amour. This is too important. I will try to be home sooner tomorrow.”

Arthur had glared at him, eyes narrowed to green slits. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but had stomped back to the kitchen to stress bake instead. A plate of charcoal scones for his dinner was a fitting punishment, Francis supposed. He also supposed that Arthur might not have let Francis off the hook so easily if not for the fact he often worked late himself.

“Sorry, love. Had to look over Lovino’s latest before leaving. Needed a lot of revisions.”

“Of course, lapin. I understand.”

Francis was a fashion designer with his own label and a permanent slot on the roster of every catwalk in the world. Arthur worked as a journalist for the French branch of a world renowned London newspaper. Both of them put in long hours and had done so ever since they’d met. They each knew the demands of the other’s career and Arthur, like Francis, usually showed a lot of understanding. Usually. His patience had frayed recently from night after night spent alone in their apartment. Missed dates, dinners, and outings galore. Guilt gnawed at Francis along with deep seated irritation and regret that he couldn’t just explain his constant absences. His other life had been making great demands on his time as of late.

What was Francis’s other life? An outsider might have guessed an affair but Francis would never. No, no, nothing so gauche as cheating. The truth was that Francis Bonnefoy-Kirkland was a supervillain. A deviant with an alter-ego known and feared throughout Paris and beyond. By day, he was Francis: the gorgeous, chic, undisputed king of couture. By night, he was Rose Noir; florakinetic, thief, and - before he met Arthur - gentleman seducer extraordinaire. Sometimes he worked alone, sometimes as one third of Night’s Europa: a villainous trio composed of himself, Matador, and the Teutonic Knight. Or Antonio Fernandez Carriedo and Gilbert Beilschmidt to their friends.

For three years Francis had balanced his marriage, his job, and his heists with the practiced ease of a multi-tasking, metropolitan CEO. Recently, this had changed and Francis suddenly had far less time to devote to Saint Bonnefoy and, more importantly, Arthur. Antonio and Gilbert were in the same boat and often brought gloomy tidings of the diminishing harmony in their respective personal lives. 

All thanks to the man who had become the default leader of Night’s Europa for the last half a year: General Winter. The villain that all members of the trio now had to listen to whether they liked it or not.

And Francis most certainly did not.

Neither did Antonio or Gilbert but unfortunately there was nothing they could do. Not if they wanted to go on living. Life had been so much sweeter when they were a simple team of three out for riches. Then one day Matador walked into their hideout with a strange, tight expression that Rose Noir and the Teutonic Knight could see even through his mask. He told them he’d been approached by Killer Frost (one of the General’s subordinates) with a “request” from the big boss: an alliance between the Blizzard gang and Night’s Europa.

From a tactical standpoint it made sense. Many villains had migrated to Paris in recent years, which in turn led to a surge in heroes arriving to try and control them. Once heavy hitters like Freedom’s Eagle and the Jade Dragon arrived and started throwing villains in jail left and right, the writing was on the wall: making friends was a good idea if you wanted to stay free. Francis, Antonio, and Gilbert all wanted to refuse the alliance even so, but they couldn’t. Everyone - hero, villain, or civilian - knew what happened to those foolish enough to cross General Winter. Even Freedom’s Eagle, the world’s current no.1 hero, struggled when up against the General. Feared him too, if villainous scuttlebutt was to be believed.

Saying “no” was off the table. So the three villains reluctantly sent their acquiescence back with Killer Frost, and Night’s Europa entered an uneasy alliance with the Blizzard gang. They met with them soon after in the dockside warehouse that the four Eastern Europeans used as their base.

“I am very glad you all are agreeing.”

The General’s voice was high-pitched for a man of such huge stature. His blank, white mask hid his face completely, but Francis could hear the smile in his voice.

“I am thinking we will be very good together, da?”

Francis, Antonio and Gilbert nodded in silence. Da.

Everything had changed after that. The alliance between the Blizzard gang and Night’s Europa was supposed to be an equilateral one. General Winter had promised that they would decide on the details of each heist democratically. Technically, he had told the truth: they did vote. The reality was that Killer Frost, Snow Warning, and Ice Winder all voted however General Winter did. Not out of loyalty, but because they were simply too terrified of their leader to do otherwise. They’d seen his brutality up close.

Night’s Europa had that pleasure not long after the first meeting. A bank job interrupted by a naive, suicidally stupid, young hero trying to punch far above his weight. Heroes were enemies and Rose Noir took pleasure running rings around them, then leaving them bruised and humiliated. That didn’t mean Francis would ever forget the look in the young man’s eyes as he died. The sounds of his screams as the General slowly broke and tore him apart, inch by inch.

“You are very naughty boy,” the General cooed over all the pleading and sobbing. “Very naughty. Naughty children must be-” a wrench, a snap, a shriek of agony. “-taught.”

By the time the hero was dead, the white of the General’s costume had been dyed a deep red all the way up past his elbows.

They’d been forced to watch the entire sadistic spectacle. Afterwards, once alone, Francis had staggered to the nearest alleyway, pulled up his mask, vomited everything in his stomach, and kept retching long after that. Then he went home and clung to Arthur all night. As a supervillain, Francis was certainly no angel, but this was something else. This was evil. This was sick.

“Don’t,” Killer Frost said when Matador and the Teutonic Knight had confronted him after that first murder. “I know what you’re going to say. Just don’t. Please…just do what he says. Just obey him.”

“Why stay with the psycho?” Gilbert demanded. “You saw what he did! He’s fucking insane!”

“I know,” Killer Frost replied in an accent Francis guessed was Lithuanian or close. “I know that. How could you think I don’t?”

“Then why listen to him? Why not fight back? It’s three against one!”

“Six with all of us,” Antonio put in.

“Ja, totally! Come on, freezer burn, we could take him!”

But Killer Frost just silently shook his head and would not be moved. Neither would Snow Warning or Ice Winder. Without their support, what could be done? Francis wasn’t confident they could take on the General even with their help. Without, it was suicide.

“If you try to leave over this, he’ll kill you,” Frost said dully. “It’s you or them. And if he can’t get to you, he’ll get to someone you love.”

“He doesn’t know who we are,” Francis argued.

“He’ll find out. Trust me, he’ll find out somehow. And then…”

Killer Frost’s breath hitched.

“Just…don’t make trouble, Rose. Please. Please just don’t.”

Francis wanted to brush off Frost’s words, but they had sparked a sickening fear in him in spite of himself. Francis thought of Arthur. Winter getting to him may have been an empty threat, but could Francis really afford to take that risk? He pictured coming home and finding their apartment wrecked, the General waiting for him in the rubble, his costume once again soaked with blood.

Blood staining the carpets. Blood splattered on familiar furniture. A body on the floor. Blond hair turned scarlet hanging limp over a caved in skull. Green eyes open but seeing nothing.

The terror was too much. Francis decided to behave himself. Antonio and Gilbert must have felt the same fear because they didn’t raise any more objections. Just kept quiet and pretended not to see or hear what they could never hope to forget.

What bitter irony that the man who called himself their ally was giving Francis more turmoil and sleepless nights than his nemesis ever had.

Francis heard the metallic creak of the door opening and pulled himself free of bleak thoughts.

“We are here! And look: I bring someone for a visit.”

The General was back at last. Back and dragging another unfortunate victim. A very familiar looking victim. Francis did a double take.

Speak of the devil.

The man General Winter dragged was a hero. One that Rose Noir knew well; from the white plume on his hat, down to the hem of his famous red coat:

The Pirate Gentleman.

One of Europe’s premier superheroes and a member of the international J7 team led by Freedom’s Eagle. Famous in equal parts for his aquakinetic powers, his checkered past as an ex-supervillain, and his hot temper complete with salty mouth and angry tirades that would put the most ornery sailor to shame. He also happened to be Rose Noir’s arch enemy.

“Though not a very nice guest, I am fearing. So rude. Very uncooperative, also.”

General Winter shoved the Pirate Gentleman out in front of him and the smaller man staggered and then went down hard, unable to keep his footing. Francis saw blood matting the back of his hair. This and the way he moved suggested a concussion. The Pirate was bloody all over: battered and bruised like he’d been set on by a heavyweight boxer. Which wouldn’t be far from the truth if he’d been brawling with General Winter. Who was nearly as strong as Freedom’s Eagle on top of his infamous cryokinetic abilities.

“But then we talked,” the General suddenly giggled, high pitched and chilling. “Talked and talked and talked, yes, yes! YES!”

He drew back a steel tipped boot and slammed it into the Pirate Gentleman’s unguarded ribs. The hero choked, heaved and spat out a glob of blood mixed with saliva. Francis tried not to wince and risk drawing attention to himself. That kick had to have cracked a few bones. Those that weren’t cracked already.

These last four years, the Pirate Gentleman had been, if you’d excuse the irony, a real thorn in Rose Noir’s side. Ever since he’d left his native London to help combat the French capital’s rising supervillain problem. Prowling the streets looking for trouble, he’d soon bumped into Night’s Europa and, rather than wait for backup, jumped into the fray to take on all three himself.

“Fucking ballsy,” Gilbert said afterwards. “Gotta admit it. I’m gonna break every bone in the shitty limey’s body next time I see him, but still. Gotta say it like it is: guy’s got a pair on him!”

Francis and Gilbert had to grudgingly agree. Grudgingly because they’d just lost the night’s jewels to their pop-up foe and giving him any kind of compliment stung, however deserved. Such beautiful specimens of emerald. Much better to be adorning Rose Noir’s elegant hands than cooped up in some stuffy museum. Francis still might have forgiven the Pirate Gentleman and allowed him to slip down into the category of “easily ignored irritation” like most of Paris’s other heroes. If the foul mouthed rosbif hadn't had the bare faced nerve to insult Francis’s professional pride the next time they met.

“Didn’t realize I was still in the West End! Who designed your outfit, frog? Andrew Lloyd Webber?”

Francis’s jaw had dropped. Worse, he was so distracted by the hero’s appalling remark that he’d let his focus slip enough that the Pirate had almost pinned him. If not for Matador and the Teutonic Knight, Rose Noir would have ended the night in jail.

After that it was on. Oh, it was on.

Rose Noir’s gift gave him power over plants, including the ability to grow them fully from seed in seconds. Meanwhile, the Pirate Gentleman’s gift was controlling water. A substance in plentiful supply thanks to the pipes and canals that ran through the city. Butting heads, scuffling, and brawling, they soon found out they were evenly matched. All over Paris they’d played their game of cat and mouse and Francis lost many a treasure to the Pirate’s exasperating dogooder ways.

Even so, Francis would not have wished this on him. The man was a foul mouthed, uncultured, pest, but even he didn’t deserve what was surely coming to him. All he had left to hope for now was a quick death.

“But perhaps all is too hasty. Perhaps our friend has been thinking it over and now has a new perspective, hm?”

General Winter rolled his prey onto his back and pressed his boot down on those wounded ribs. The Gentleman Pirate gasped and wheezed, a line of blood bubbling and trickling from the corner of his mouth. He probably had a punctured lung.

“Perhaps he reconsiders the Blizzard gang’s kind offer? Perhaps he remembers his past and knows the leopard isn’t changing its spots so easily? Perhaps he sees friends of snow all stronger and better together, rather than sad and alone…?”

Ahh, so that was it. The General took pride in the fact that all the snow and ice based supervillains were part of the gang he’d founded. Making them part of his twisted family whether they wanted it or not. The Pirate Gentlemen’s power over water gave him some cryokinetic skills. He’d be a perfect addition to Winter’s little “collection.” General Winter must have approached him the way he did Night’s Europa, but the Pirate Gentleman would have turned him down flat. Everyone in the hero/villain community knew he was reformed, ferociously so. Too bad for him the General obviously hadn’t taken the rejection well.

The Pirate’s lips were moving. General Winter bent down and cupped a hand to his ear.

“Sorry? You are saying what?”

“F-f-fuck you…”

The General slammed his boot down. They all heard the sickening crack. The Pirate Gentleman jerked forward as much as he could while still pinned, mouth open in a silent scream. Then he fell back; twitching, jerking, and choking on red froth. Even Gilbert looked nauseated.

“You are very silly man,” General Winter said serenely.

He reached down and pinched the corner of the Pirate Gentleman’s mask between his forefinger and thumb. Francis’s eyebrows jumped up in shock. Surely, he wasn’t going to-?

“Silly, silly, silly. Let’s see the silly, silly face.”

The General tore off the Pirate mask in one fluid motion. Revealing the bloody and bruised face beneath.

Francis’s heart stopped.

Arthur.

Arthur. It was Arthur. Francis’s husband. The man he’d pledged his life to and promised to love till the end of his days. The Pirate Gentleman was Arthur. His Arthur.

He had been all this time. Every time they’d fought, it had been Arthur under that mask.

Francis couldn’t take it in. It was like he’d stumbled into a dream, it was-

General Winter’s hand was wrapped around Arthur’s throat. Francis had seen him snap necks like toothpicks many times.

“NO! STOP!”

[pilferingapples]

in the first part of les mis, in the book, the bishop visits a conventionist and hugo tells us that he's basically been living in exile because everyone hates him. why? did the political atmosphere in this tiny random town change so much that even the townsfolk hated him? i don't understand. did people really want the ancien regime back?

Hello!

Warning: this answer is going to vastly, vastly oversimplify everything about the political climate of late 18/early 19C France, or we'd be here all day.

So here's the thing: support for the Republic was never universal, or even remotely universal, even at the peak of the French Revolution. There was pretty much a civil war going on about it for years! A lot of people were sincerely and , as they saw it, devoutly loyal to the Ancien Regime. Being royalist tended to go along with being very Catholic--for many people, there was still a sense that the king had been chosen by god--and the Revolution, to those people , was a violent blasphemy that brought war and unrest to the country and destroyed the True government.

Given how people in Digne feel about their church and their Bishop, and how they treat people who are openly Bonapartist, it seems like they've always been a royalist town. (Napoleon was noooot exactly carrying on the ideals of the republic, but plenty of people saw them as the same thing) .

So this isn't a shift in attitude, it's just how a lot of places were. If there'd been no support for the monarchy, the Allies would have had a much harder time putting a king back in charge of France. Lots of people wanted the monarchy! as to why...whoo boy that is WAY too long to do justice to here. But yeah! This is very much how a lot of people did continue to see the revolutionaries--even when LM was published, many people were very angry about the Bishop kneeling to G, because they considered him an evil murdering usurper--but those critics are @psalm22-6's research XD

[mo-ok]

oh boy! my heroes 😍

[tamaharu]

and when i see mx weekes at the concert tonight we'll see whos laughing

[pygian-weapon]

so I gather that the new political strategy that countries are applying is "THINK FAST" before throwing ballot papers at voters' heads

[incorrectosemanverse]

Frances: My goal is not to be the best, but to inspire someone enough to one day surpass me.

Aled: YOU CAN’T JUST SAY THAT EVERY TIME YOU BEAT ME AT CONNECT FOUR!