belles vous

Le Petit Prince - quotes 🌠

Le Petit Prince (1943) is a novel by Antoine de Saint Exupéry, translated into English as The Little Prince.

🌟 1. Les grandes personnes ne comprennent jamais rien toutes seules, et c’est fatigant, pour les enfants, de toujours et toujours leur donner des explications.

Grown-ups never understand anything by themselves, and it is tiresome for children to be always and forever explaining things to them.

🌟 2. Quand le mystère est trop impressionnant, on n’ose pas désobéir.

When a mystery is too overpowering, one dare not disobey.

🌟 3. La preuve que le petit prince a existé c’est qu’il était ravissant, qu’il riait, et qu’il voulait un mouton. Quand on veut un mouton, c’est la preuve qu’on existe.

The proof that the little prince existed is that he was charming, that he laughed, and that he was looking for a sheep. If anybody wants a sheep, that is a proof that he exists.

🌟 4. Mais les graines sont invisibles. Elles dorment dans le secret de la terre jusqu’à ce qu’il prenne fantaisie à l’une d’elles de se réveiller…

But seeds are invisible. They sleep deep in the heart of the earth’s darkness, until some one among them is seized with the desire to awaken.

🌟 5. Il ne faut jamais écouter les fleures. Il faut les regarder et les respirer. La mienne embaumait ma planète, mais je ne savais pas m’en réjouir.

One never ought to listen to the flowers. One should simply look at them and breathe their fragrance. Mine perfumed all my planet. But I did not know how to take pleasure in all her grace.

🌟 6. Tu as des cheveux couleur d’or. Alors ce sera merveilleux quand tu m’aura apprivoisé! Le blé, qui est doré, me fera souvenir de toi. Et j’aimerai le bruit du vent dans le blé…

You have hair that is the color of gold. Think how wonderful that will be when you have tamed me! The grain, which is also golden, will bring me back the thought of you. And I shall love to listen to the wind in the wheat…

🌟 7. On ne connaît que les choses que l’on apprivoise, dit le renard. Les hommes n’ont plus le temps de rien connaître. Il achètent des choses toutes faites chez les marchands. Mais comme il n’existe point de marchands d’amis, les hommes n’ont plus d’amis. Si tu veux un ami, apprivoise-moi!

“One only understands the things that one tames,” said the fox. “Men have no more time to understand anything. They buy things all ready made at the shops. But there is no shop anywhere where one can buy friendship, and so men have no friends any more. If you want a friend, tame me…”

🌟 8. Le langage est source de malentendus.

Words are the source of misunderstandings.

🌟 9. Voici mon secret. Il est très simple : on ne voit bien qu’avec le coeur. L’essentiel est invisible pour les yeux.

And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.

🌟 10. C’est le temps que tu as perdu pour ta rose qui fait ta rose si importante.

It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important.

🌟 11. Tu deviens responsable pour toujours de ce que tu as apprivoisé. Tu es responsable de ta rose…

You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed. You are responsible for your rose…

🌟 12. - Les enfants seuls savent ce qu’ils cherchent, fit le petit prince. Ils perdent du temps pour une poupée de chiffons, et elle devient très importante, et si on la leur enlève, ils pleurent…

“Only the children know what they are looking for,” said the little prince. “They waste their time over a rag doll and it becomes very important to them; and if anybody takes it away from them, they cry…”

🌟 13. Ce qui embellit le désert, dit le petit prince, c’est qu’il cache un puits quelque part…

“What makes the desert beautiful,” said the little prince, “is that somewhere it hides a well…”

🌟 14. Dessine-moi un mouton!

Draw me a sheep!

🌟 15. Quand on a terminé sa toilette du matin, il faut faire soigneusement la toilette de la planète.

When you’ve finished getting yourself ready in the morning, you must go get the planet ready.

🌟 16. J'aime bien les couchers de soleil. Allons voir un coucher de soleil…

I am very fond of sunsets. Come, let us go look at a sunset…

🌟 17. On ne sait jamais!

“One never knows!”

🌟 18. Il faut exiger de chacun ce que chacun peut donner, reprit le roi. L'autorité repose d'abord sur la raison. Si tu ordonnes à ton peuple d'aller se jeter à la mer, il fera la révolution. J'ai le droit d'exiger l'obéissance parce que mes ordres sont raisonnables.
Alors mon coucher de soleil ? rappela le petit prince qui jamais n'oubliait une question une fois qu'il l'avait posée.
Ton coucher de soleil, tu l'auras. Je l'exigerai. Mais j'attendrai, dans ma science du gouvernement, que les conditions soient favorables.

“One must command from each what each can perform,” the king went on. “Authority is based first of all upon reason. If you command your subjects to jump into the ocean, there will be a revolution. I am entitled to command obedience because my orders are reasonable.”
“Then my sunset?” insisted the little prince, who never let go of a question once he had asked it. “You shall have your sunset. I shall command it. But I shall wait, according to my science of government, until conditions are favorable.”

🌟 19. C'est véritablement utile puisque c'est joli.

It is truly useful since it is beautiful.

🌟 20. ‘Où sont les hommes ?’ reprit enfin le petit prince. 'On est un peu seul dans le désert.’
'On est seul aussi chez les hommes’, dit le serpent.

“Where are the people?” resumed the little prince at last. “It’s a little lonely in the desert…" "It is lonely when you’re among people, too,” said the snake.

🌟 21. Vous êtes belles, mais vous êtes vides…. On ne peut pas mourir pour vous.

You’re beautiful, but you’re empty…. No one could die for you.

🌟 22. Les hommes ont oublié cette vérité, dit le renard. Mais tu ne dois pas l’oublier. Tu deviens responsable pour toujours de ce que tu as apprivoisé.

“Men have forgotten this truth,” said the fox. “But you must not forget it. You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed.”

🌟 23. Mais les yeux sont aveugles. Il faut chercher avec le cœur.

But the eyes are blind. One must look with the heart…

French Quotes About Love part 1

Life- 1, 2, 3.

1. Aimer, c'est vivre; aimer, c'est voir; aimer, c'est être- To love is to live; to love is to see; to love is to be.

2. J'entends ta voix dans tous les bruits du monde- I hear your voice in all of the world’s noise.

3. La vie est faite de petits bonheurs- Life is made of little pleasures.

4. L'amour est une rose. Chaque pétale une illusion. Chaque épine une réalité- Love is like a rose. Every petal an illusion. Every thorn a reality.

5. Le désir s'exprime par la caresse comme la pensée par la langage- Desire is expressed by touch like thought is expressed by language.

6. Une femme qui connaît sa valeur ne mendie pas l'amour- A woman who knows her worth, does not beg for love.

7. Je viens du ciel et les étoiles entre elles ne parlent que de toi- I come from the sky, and the stars only ever speak of you.

8. La vie est belle, et vous êtes comme elle- Life is beautiful, and you’re like life.

9. L'amour, parfois, c'est aimer quelqu'un qui ne t'aimera jamais- Love is sometimes loving someone who will never love you back.

10. L'esprit s'enrichit de ce qu'il reçoit, le cœur de ce qu'il donne- The spirit grows with what it receives, the heart with what it gives.

Part 2?

Oatmeal Beauty Benefits

Oatmeal, rather than it only being used as a healthy breakfast, actually boasts beauty benefits. You can use oatmeal to help take care of acne, dry skin, irritation, dullness, and more. There are many ways that you can use oatmeal by itself, rather than going out to stores and spending money on products. I, myself, have a box of 100% Natural Whole Grain Quaker Oats. Here are some ways that you can use it.

  • Oatmeal Bath: Pour a cup of plain oatmeal (blended) into your tub as it fills up with warm water. The oatmeal will cleanse your skin, soften, and moisturize your skin, which help lock in moisture and protect skin from exterior irritants. 
  • Face Scrub: Oatmeal contains chemicals known as saponins, characterized by their cleansing properties. Simply grab a quarter sized amount of oatmeal and mix it with warm water in your hand. Once its soggy, squeeze out the oatmeal water onto your other hand and apply that to your face. It would be like a base before you actually start scrubbing the oatmeal onto your face, AND it makes your skin incredibly soft! Then you would scrub the oatmeal onto your face in gentle circular motions. Leave it for 2 minutes then wash off with warm water then cold. Then do your usual night time skincare routine.  

*Here’s a guide by Bubzbeautywww.youtube.com/watch?v=7e5_RVBwNjE

  • Exfoliator: Try blended oatmeal, coconut oil, brown sugar and warm water. You’ll get the same cleansing and buffering properties without all the unnecessary harshness from beauty products or over the counter items. Plus, the coconut oil will give your skin a healthy glow. 
  • Dry Shampoo: Just as oatmeal works at removing excess dirt from the body, it can also help to reduce the appearance of dirty hair. You can brush through a light dusting of finely ground oats throughout your strands to soak up excess oils. This will help relieve an itchy scalp. 

Health Tip: Oatmeal can help reduce cholesterol. 3 grams of soluble fiber from oatmeal daily in a diet, low in saturated fat and cholesterol, may reduce the risk of heart disease. 

|The Story of Last Night | Lafayette

So I was listening to The Story of Tonight Reprise and the idea of drunk Lafayette is literally everything to me right now.


I may not live to see our glory!” 

You rose an eyebrow at the chorus of voices that hit your ears as you entered the bar, and sighed when you recognized the faces. 

Not again, You purposefully maneuvered away from them, going by the counter. Its not that you didn’t like the four idiots, you did, but it was just that you had no time nor patience to deal with them at the moment. The whole reason you had skipped the reception in the first place, was because you had found yourself becoming quickly overwhelmed. 

Even among-st girls, Angelica sure knew how to party. 

You chuckled nervously at the memory of the flamboyant Schuyler (and Eliza who surprisingly got quite frisky the moment she got even a little alcohol in her system).

So yeah, it wasn’t a good idea to let them see you. Especially since it looked like they were dead ass drunk. They were bad enough normally, you didn’t even want to try to handle them while they were off their rocker.

“The usual?”

You lifted your head to peer at the bartender, who had a warm smile. You nodded, and the man blinked at your weary state. 

“Rough night?” He asked. You looked not too subtly in the way of the notorious gang, and he gave you an expression of empathy. “Ah, I see.”

“Hamilton’s hitched,” you clarified. The bartender snickered.

“I know. The whole place does,” He said, returning with your drink. You shrugged laughing along with him and taking a tentative sip before deciding to just chug the whole thing down.

Right when you were contemplating getting another round and joining the party of intoxicated laid-backs, a hand tapped your shoulder. You turned to see the face of none other than Hercules Mulligan himself.

“Y/L/N” He started, scratching the back of his neck with a crooked white smile. He looked to be still tipsy, but way more cognitive than he had been when you spotted the quartet earlier. 

“Please, Mulligan, you can call me Y/N,” You returned the smile, giving him your full attention. 

“Well then, right back at you, Y/N.”

“As you say, Hercules,” You taunted back. He chuckled deeply.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you, but I require your assistance,” He began. You gave him a look of confusion, and he gestured to his arm. 

When you looked properly, you saw that he was practically carrying Lafayette  like he weighed a bag of feathers. While Hercules had regained his wits, the french man clearly had not, and was still properly bamboozled. 

“Monsieur Lafayette cannot hold his liquor?” You questioned in amusement. Hercules shared your sentiment.

“On the contrary, he is actually quite impressive in that regard. But alas, he had way more than any of us.”

You grinned but it wavered when you saw his suggestive gaze. “Wait…what exactly are you asking me to do here?”

“Well…”

“No.”

“Please Y/N?” He couldn’t restrain his laugh. “John ran off somewhere, and I need to track him down so that he doesn’t jump in the lake.”

“Why can’t Hamilton do it?” You stalled. 

“Hamilton went off somewhere with Burr,” Hercules confirmed. You opened your mouth to make another excuse but a look from the tall man had you shutting up.

You groaned, putting your palm to your face. “I’m going to regret this.”

“Thank you Y/N,” Hercules was more than willing to hand over the drunk man to you, and you nearly fell over to hold him up. 

“You’re-” You barely started but he was already out the doors. “…welcome.”

You huffed, focusing now on the immigrant nearly drooling on your shoulder.

“Lets go,” You shook him slightly, enough to get him able to walk with you as you hung his arm around your neck.

“Hmm..?” He asked drowsily, a rumble vibrating through his chest and straight through you. “Where…?”

His voice was hoarse from the recent wake up and you would vehemently deny that it had goosebumps rising up your arms. 

“Home,” You said, absentmindedly watching the stars as the two of you hobbled down the empty street. 

“Home…?” He repeated. “You…would have a…ship at the ready?”

You snorted. Even completely wasted, he didn’t fail to have you in fits of laughter. 

“Not France, Lafayette,” You mused. “Though I think I would like to visit.”

“Anytime…” He opened his eyes blearily, seeming to want to see you. When he saw your face he seemed a bit surprised, but got over it. “Y/N…”

Your name rolling off his lips made you weirdly content. 

“You would escort me, Monsieur?” You were enjoying somewhat flirting with the man, knowing he wouldn’t remember a single word. 

“Anything for you,” He responded. You paused. That sounded a little too sincere. You peeked a glance to see if he had cleared his mind from the alcoholic fog, but his face was still flushed. Guess not.

“Its a date then,” You said. 

“Date…? Yes…a date,” He murmured by your ear, breath washing over you, a distinct smell of sweet whiskey. You were already getting flustered by the proximity, but when his lips pressed to your neck you lost your crap.

“What are you doing?” The words were rushed, your voice a pitch higher. 

“Tu es si belle.”

“What?”

“Vous frappez, madame. Restez avec moi.”

“Um…Lafayette?”

The only thing that followed was a babble of french that you in no way could translate. The sultry flow of the romantic language by your ear was again getting too much for you. You were sure your face would burn off in no time.

“Lafayette!”

That seemed to knock him out of his daze, but he still continued to speak in French, with a few random English words in-between. You suddenly noticed the confused expression set on his face and realized he quite seriously couldn’t remember the language at the moment in his state.

How adorable.

You let him off the hook for the intrusion of your personal space just because of that, and giggled quietly to yourself as you walked up to his door. 

You fished around in his coat for his keys, and gave a small ‘aha’ when you found them in an inner pocket. The door clicked open.

“Here we are,” You said. A strike of sympathy struck within you with another look at Lafayette’s disheveled state. 

It wouldn’t kill you to bring him to his room would it? You took the small journey with a pep in your step.

“Time to go to bed, Lafayette,” You spoke to him as if he was a child, patting his shoulder. He hummed.

“mmhm…”

You made to let him go but stopped breathing when the roles changed as he clamped his arms around your waist and dragged you down to the mattress with him.

“MMpH..!” You thrashed, face pressed into his chest, your bodies practically glued together. A heat ravaged your cheeks when you registered this, his toned body outlined underneath his clothes, the scruff on his jaw brushing against your cheek. You finally managed to disconnect from him enough to speak. 

“Let go!” You whispered harshly. Lafayette stirred, opening his eyes. The two of you stared at each other before an odd glint entered Lafayette’s chocolate eyes. 

“Laf-” You started.

“Stay.”

“What?”

“Stay,” He said shortly, more of a question than a demand. His eyes looked too clear, too soft for someone who was drunk.

You got lost in his gaze, your faces so close now that you could count every brown eyelash, the curls escaping his ponytail, framing his captivating features. 

Everything was shouting at you to say no, to get the hell out of there, but then his lip quirked upward and you were melting.

“Ok.”

His head buried in your neck, your legs intertwined as the soft sounds of his breathing filled the quiet air.

And the dull beat of his heart lulled you to join him in the land of the subconscious not long after.



OH MON DIEU!”

You frowned at the noise, wondering who had the heart of stone to do this to you so early in the morning. Opening your eyes, you watched Lafayette in blurry perplexity until the memories of the night before came back to you and just sighed, rolling back over.

“Go back to sleep, Lafayette.”

“Back to-?!” He was utterly befuddled, wincing at the sound of his own voice, nursing a hangover. Another round of french escaped his lips before he caught himself.  “Mon cher, what are you doing in my bed??!!”

“So you don’t remember last night?” You mulled, taking great satisfaction in making him freak out even more.

“Last night?!!” He sputtered, a complete mess of ruffled clothes, bed hair and tangled sheets. “What did I - did we - how did-”

You snuggled into the warm sheets, snickering. “Don’t worry, we didn’t do anything.”

A breath of relief left his lungs. “Oh merci bien.”

You hummed casually. “I mean, you haven’t even taken me on that date to France yet.”

You swear you had no idea the male human voice could go that high before. “Date??”

A thump alerted you to the fact that he had fallen out of the bed and onto the floor. 

You yawned, raising your hand limply above your head to point at the ceiling. Where to start? 

“I’ll tell the story of last night…”


[MasterList]

La vie est belle
  • Perceval : Ou quand vous êtes en danger : il vaut mieux mourir pour vous défendre vous, que pour se défendre soi-même.
  • Arthur : Quoi ?
  • Perceval : Quoi quoi ?
  • Arthur : Qu'est-ce que vous avez dit ?
  • Perceval : Nan mais ça, en même temps, c'est logique. Priorité à celui qui a la vie qui vaut plus.
  • Arthur : Qui a la vie qui vaut plus ? Mais qu'est c'que c'est que ça ?
  • Perceval : Attendez Sire, vous et moi on tombe dans une embuscade, il vaut mieux qu'ce soit vous qui restiez, plutôt que moi.
  • Arthur : Mais, c'est quelqu'un qui vous l'a dit, ça ?
  • Perceval : Ben j'sais plus, les autres ... Ils disent que si vous êtes en danger, il faut se sacrifier.
  • Arthur : Non non non ! Jamais vous faites ça ! Vous m'entendez ?
  • Perceval : Mais si c'est la loi ?
  • Arthur : VOUS FAITES JAMAIS CA ! Si on tombe dans une embuscade, vous vous barrez en courant. C'est clair ? .... C'est clair ?!
  • Perceval : Ok, ok, comme vous voulez !
Tu sais en changeant de rythme de vie et en voulant t'épanouir, beaucoup seront déranger par cela. Oui le succès dérange, oui la beauté dérange, oui le courage dérange, oui le bonheur aussi dérange. Bref tout dérange. Et si tu perds des gens en réussissant dans ta vie sentimental, dans ton boulot etc … alors tu ne perds pas grand chose, tu ne perds rien à vrai dire. À partir du moment où une personne ne se réjouit pas de ton bonheur, cette personne n'est pas bonne pour toi. Moi certains auraient préférés me voir rester mal dans ma peau. D'autre auraient aimé que je reste moins jolie qu'elles et j'en passe. Quelle belle connerie, ne vous arrêtez pour personne ! Ne vous excusez pas de vouloir vous sentir bien, car le bonheur rend jaloux beaucoup de personne incapable d'essayer rien qu'un peu d'être heureux.
—  @unefitcurieuse sur instagram
A Lire attentivement

Des gens mal dans leurs peaux, j’en ai croisés pleins, des personnes qui rentre chez eux et qui pleurent, qui ne trouvent plus de sens à leurs vie. J’en ai vu des personnes construire une grosse carapace juste pour éviter la population d’aujourd’hui, pour être tranquille au moins une fois dans leur vie. Oui j’en ai vu des parents inquiets pour leurs enfants.
Aujourd’hui si j’écris ce texte, ce n’est pas pour vous expliquer ce que j’ai vu dans ma vie. Aujourd’hui si je vous écris c’est pour vous dire à quel point vous êtes fort, et courageux d’endurer tous ce que vous avez tous les jours sans broncher.  Vous avez les plus belles âmes que tous ces moutons que vous pouvez voir au lycée, ou au collège, ou même autre part. N’essayez pas de changer, que vous soyez, grand, petit, plus gros, plus mince, que vous ayez un problème de santé ou non, que vous ayez un passé difficile ou non, ne changer pas s’il vous plait, rester vous-même et ce sera votre plus belle récompense, et vous pourrez être fiers de vous.  
La vie n’est pas un long fleuve tranquille je vous l’accorde, mais forcément un jour la roue tournera, et vous serrez enfin tranquille, enfin vous-même, sans larme, avec un beau sourire sur vos visages, parce que oui, ce qui rend belle une personne, ce n’est pas que son âme, c’est aussi le sourire et le rire qu’elle affiche pleinement. Un jour vous ferrez la rencontre de cette personne qui changera votre vie, qui vous tendra la main et qui vous aidera comme si sa vie en dépendait. Et je suis sûre que cette personne-là vous fera vivre un rêve éveillé. Je vous le promets.

Soyez fort, souriez, et surtout soyez heureux et fiers d’être ce que vous êtes.

Happy women’s day my love
Is celebrated on March 8 every year Women’s Day by wishing her, and making her feel how important and special she is.

Una carta romantica per augurare la vostra amata la Festa della Donna.
L'8 marzo di ogni anno ricorre la giornata internazionale della Donna ( Festa della Donna)
La mimosa che fiorisce proprio nei primi giorni di marzo, è simbolo italiano di questa importante giornata.

Prendila per mano, avvicina il tuo corpo al suo, adagia una mimosa tra le sue mani, e sussurra nell'orecchio: “auguri amore mio,” ti amo!- Carmine De Masi

Le 8 mars dans de nombreux pays est célébré comme Journée de la femme! Bonne Journée de la femme vous souhaitant un jour aussi belle que vous êtes..

El 8 de marzo, en muchos países se celebra como Día Internacional de la Mujer.

pourquoi je me suis inscrite sur tumblr
  • je vais vous expliquez quelles sont les raisons qui m'ont poussé a m'inscrire ici.
  • Je suis en couple depuis plusieurs années mais mon mari ne s'interresse que peu a moi, avant ça me dérangeait un peu mais j’étais tout de même heureuse ,mais au fils du temps je commence a être lassée de ne faire que partie du décor.
  • c'est frustrant quant vous faites des efforts et que l'on ne vous calcule pas. j'essaye d’être toujours féminine, sexy de faire entrer un peu d’imprévisibilité dans notre quotidien en lui envoyant des photos sexy voir carrément cochonne ou en lui proposant quant on est en voiture de s’arrêter dans un petit coin pour faire l'amour. mais rien n'y fais!
  • il y a quelques temps j'ai découvert que mon homme avait un blog, ici, sur tumblr. j'ai été un peu déçu de voir avec ses reblog ,qu'a ses yeux je n’étais pas son idéale,mais je ne lui en tiens pas rigueur , tumblr ne reste que de l'ordre du fantasme.
  • mais c'est vrai que c'est étrange de constater que je serais l’idéale de mon mec si je perdais plus d'une dizaine de kilos , une dizaine d'années ,que je me teignais les cheveux et que j'ailles faire une stage intensif au salon d'uv (pour une rousse c'est pas super genial) mais ce qui m'a fais un peu de peine je l'avoue, c'est les commentaires sympa a certaines nanas alors que moi il ne me regarde même pas.
  • j'ai alors décidé de créer ce blog et j'en suis ravi. il n'y a rien de mieux de se sentir désirable et belle. je tiens en vous remerciés messieurs.
  • ce que je voulais vous dire par le biés de ce billet . c'est qu'il faut savoir dissocier le réel du virtuel et que les personnes qui vous aimes doivent faire partis de vos priorités.pensez a dire a votre femme que vous l'a trouvez belle (si c'est un laideron , vous êtes pas obligés lol) regardez la plus et regardez un peu moins les autres .
  • n’hésitez pas a m'envoyer vos temoignages ou vos questions je me ferais un plaisir de les publier ici.
  • je vous embrasses
Je crois que je comprends exactement où vous êtes, vous êtes très belle et vous croyez que les hommes ne s'intéressent à vous que parce que vous êtes belle, mais ce que vous aimeriez c'est qu'ils s'intéressent à vous parce que vous êtes vous! Le problème c'est que toute cette beauté mise à part, vous n'êtes pas très intéressante, vous êtes revêche, vous êtes agressive, vous êtes d'humeur maussade et renfermée. Je sais que vous voudriez quelqu'un qui dépasse tout ça et découvre la vraie personne qui se cache derrière. Mais la seule raison pour laquelle on prendrait la peine de dépasser tout ça, c'est parce que vous êtes belle ! Quelle ironie du sort, en fin de compte votre vrai problème c'est vous !
—  Will randall
Vous êtes belle

This is a tiny little Spencer x reader fic requested by anon. It turned out ridiculously fluffy I think, so if that’s you’re kind of thing I really hope you like it! I apologize for its length, because it turned out much shorter than I had intended it to. Please, enjoy! :)

You have to interact with a victim using another language and it just instantly becomes Reid’s aesthetic.

Originally posted by criminalmindsobsessed


A voice in his ear, Spencer jumped suddenly, feeling his cheeks burn, “Didn’t know you liked that kind of thing, Spence,” Derek laughed, Penelope coming up behind him with an identical little smirk.

“What are you talking about?” Spencer stammered. If this wasn’t blushing, then the sky isn’t blue because Spencer’s face could not be any redder.

Penelope bumped him roughly in the shoulder, “Spence, you got it bad, don’t you?”

“No, I don’t. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But his eyes instinctively dart towards you on the opposite side of the room.

They let him brew in silence for a couple more moments before grilling him again.

“It’s the accent, isn’t it?” Derek asks, a smirk absolutely consuming every ounce of his being.

Spencer’s lack of an adequate response answers the question for him, and Penelope full on giggles, “It totally is!”

The three of them watch you for a minute, intimately examining the way you communicate with the victim in fluent french, a beautiful language that surprises all of them by flying easily from your tongue.

“You should talk to her, Spencer,” Derek tells him, a small chuckle sneaking through the shadows of his seriousness.

Spencer sighs, “I have no idea how.”


For the next week, Spencer, for the most part, avoids you at all costs. He wants the next interaction to be really special, different, a source for change.

You smile for what feels like the first time in days when he approaches you (ironically, it’s for the first time in days that he does so).

“What’s up, Spence? I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!” You’re smiling embarrassingly wide, content with being able to talk to Spencer again.

He responds. in. Perfect. French. It’s without error, without falter, an impeccable accent, and you smile wide and respond in stride. French had always been your preferred language, even though it was your second one.

Vous êtes belle,” He tells you.

You smile and respond in kind, “Vous aussi.”

Spencer smiles back in perfect understanding.

15 April 1719 - Death of Madame de Maintenon

After her husband Louis XIV died in 1715, Madame de Maintenon retired to Saint-Cyr to spent her last years in quietude at the school/convent she herself founded. Though her marriage to the King was supposed to be secret, after Louis died she received condolences from many royalty in Europe and the Pope. Her greatest recognition as uncrowned Queen of France was that Peter the Great of Russia visited her at Saint-Cyr, when he was making his tour through Europe.

Gradually Madame de Maintenons health began to decline. At the beginning of April 1719 she told her secretary Jeanne d'Aumale:

“ While my head is clear and I am alone with you, let us do business once more. Send my poor people their pensions in advance. I wish to do them a little good once more before I die.”

Even at her own deathbed the only things she thought about were the sufferings of the poor and how she could help them, like she had done all her life.        

To the Duc de Noailles she said on her deathbed:

“Adieu, my dear Duke. A few hours hence I shall  understand many things.”

Madame de Maintenon died at five in the afternoon while listening to the hymns sung by the pupils of Saint-Cyr. She was 83 years old and had survived Le Grand Monarque for 4 years.

Sight (Lafayette x Reader)

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Requests- “Can I request a Lafayette imagine? Okay, so he saw the reader for the first time at the ball and reverted back to his native French language because he was so awed…? Thanks, you are awesome! :D”

“Can you do a Laffayette x reader where the reader (femme) and Laffayette go to a bakery and he confesses to them?”

A/N- (I wrote this mostly from Laf’s point of view bc why not)

Song- Daydream Away – All Time Low

Words- 2,271

Gilbert had been having a rough go of it lately. He had been too busy to actually talk to any women, and when he had the chance, they never seemed interested in someone from France. Despite his adequate and improving English and his high social standing in both France and America, women just didn’t seem as interested in him. Gilbert had been the one to suggest to his friends that they attend this get-together, but after being shoved away from a very attractive, dark skinned woman by his friend Alexander, he was beginning to lose interest.

Gilbert headed for the part of the hall that had the most booze. It was something that had never failed him before. He took a large sip of champagne, nearly draining the entire flute. He sighed and stared down at the swirling golden liquid, watching the way the bubbles would stick on the glass for a moment after the rest of the champagne rushed by. Gilbert brought the glass to his lips and let the strong taste burn down his throat, but he quickly smirked when he opened his eyes again.

Standing several feet away was what appeared to be a beautiful woman. He couldn’t see her face, but the gown she adorned was definitely doing her justice and her hair looked immaculate. Feeling confident again, Gilbert set down the champagne glass and headed over to where she was talking to a few other girls. Gilbert casually tapped her shoulder and stood back with his arms cordially behind his back. A laid-back smile was dancing on his face, and he was already planning what he was going to say.

Gilbert couldn’t tell if his heart had stopped completely or if it was beating so fast that he couldn’t feel it, but either way, he was sure he would drop dead right on the spot. Her face had been confused when she first turned around but broke into and easy grin when she saw it had been a man like Gilbert who’d tried to grab her attention.

“Hello?” she asked. Her voice was slow and sweet like honey. Gilbert was desperate to hear more of it. He blinked a few times and smiled awkwardly. He knew what it was. It was her eyes. The way they shone ever so slightly in the soft candlelight and gazed up at him expectantly but not rudely. There was a glowing feeling around her, and the way she was looking at Gilbert gave him goosebumps. “I”m sorry have we met?”

Non…” Gilbert mumbled. “Desole. J-je

She furrowed her brow slightly. Gilbert clasped a hand over his mouth. “Merde! I am sorry I did not mean to…I am Gilbert or-or Lafayette or…whatever you like.” he said quickly.

“Right.” The woman nodded and giggled softly. Gilbert found himself stepping closer to hear more of it. “I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N…” he whispered. “Belle, vous semblez vraiment spécial.”  She cocked her head to the side. “Non, I mean, you are….Mon dieu,Tes yeux brillent comme de minuscules étoiles. C'est comme tu as des univers en toi.

She bit her lip and looked towards the floor. Gilbert had a moment of consciousness and straightened his posture to appear more formal. “I am sorry once again. I did not mean to-”

“No, it’s alright!” she said quickly, meeting GIlbert’s eyes and taking his breath away. Her goddamn eyes; they had some affect on him. “My French is just a bit rusty but, er well, vous êtes très beau.

Gilbert’s eyes widened. Without thinking, he took both her hands in his and bent lower to meet her eyes. “Vous parlez Français?”

She shrugged and waved one of her hands in the air. Gilbert quickly returned his own hands to his side and glance away awkwardly.“Only a little. It’s really not that impressive.”

Non non, it is!” Gilbert insisted. “Croyez-moi, it is very comforting to have someone who knows just a little bit of home.”  

She smiled at him. It was one of the most genuine smiles he’d seen this whole night. This year actually. It felt like his whole life. “Well, I’m glad I could make you feel at home Monsieur  Lafayette.”

Gilbert wiped his hand not-so-subtly on his trouser and held it out to her. “W-would you like to dance, belle?”

She looked to his hand and back up to his face. “I’m sorry, Monsieur,” she said softly, “But I’m afraid I’m not much one for dancing.”

Gilbert nearly cried with relief. “Moi non plus” He laughed breathily. She smiled at him, and there it was. An awkwardness Gilbert had never really had with a woman before. He was totally speechless, which was new for someone like Gilbert.

“I…um, would you…” he stammered.

“Yes?” she asked sweetly, not a hint of fear or apprehension present.

“Would you enjoy a walk with me?” He said quickly. Gilbert groaned internally, knowing he probably sounded like an idiot. However, the woman smiled and held out her hand. Gilbert took it slowly and began to lead her out of the building. There was a small pathway through some flowers and grassy areas. It was blazing orange with the setting sun. The world was on fire.

Gilbert held his arm out carefully, and Y/N slipped her arm into his. It was impossible for this man not to smile.

“So tell me about yourself, Monsieur Lafayette. What brought you to America?” The couple started an easy pace down the pathway.

“Well, I have some friends here, and when I heard that a revolution was happening, I came to give my support and fight.” he explained simply. She sucked in a long breath.

“You would be willing to fight, and risk dying, for a country that is not your own?”

Gilbert looked down at her with a furrowed brow. “Bien sûr. I would do anything for justice and what is right.” Y/N grinned up at him before staring straight forward at the pathway again. Gilbert laughed nervously. “What? What are you thinking?” he asked.

She shrugged. “That’s just very admirable.”

Gilbert felt goosebumps crawl over him. “M-merci belle. But I would love to hear about you.”

Gilbert listened intently as she spoke of her family and background. Conversation continued to flow easily between the pair.  It was light-hearted, something new in the grave world they so often encountered. To Gilbert, she was like a breath of fresh air after a lifetime spent surrounded by ash and dust.

The sky had darkened significantly, but neither paid much attention to it. They continued to walk and talk until their voices were sore from sharing hopes and fears and their sides were splitting with laughter. A cool sting hit the side of Gilbert’s face. He looked up and felt another on fall to his neck.

“Is it-” Y/N was cut off by bright flash across the sky followed quickly by a booming sound that radiated their cores. Gilbert quickly pulled her over to the side of the street as rain started to pour from the skies. She giggled and clutched onto his arm. Her hair was soaking wet, but other than that, she was having fun. Gilbert turned to her quickly and put both his hands on the sides of her face.

Est-ce que tu es?” he asked desperately.

She laughed breathily. “Oui. I’m fine.”

He looked around desperately. “We should get you inside.” he mumbled. His eyes scanned across the street. “Là bas!” he shouted, pointing to a small building. There was a faint glow coming from inside of it. The only place on this street with any sign of other life. Gilbert took Y/N’s hand and starting running through the rain towards the light.

Gilbert knocked desperately on the door when the two arrived. The door opened and an older gentleman appeared in its spot.

“Would it be possible for us to stay here until the rain is gone?” Gilbert said quickly. The older man had barely registered the Frenchman’s words before he was stepping out of the way and gesturing for them to walk inside.  Gilbert squeezed Y/N’s hand, and they walked inside together.

“I hope it’s a bit warmer in here. I’ll grab a blanket.”

“Oh, you don’t have to go to the-” Y/N started.

“Nonsense.” The old man stated with a smile. “I will be back.” He left the room. Gilbert released her hand and walked around the small space, taking everything in. The smell of flour and fresh bread wafted through the air thickly.

“I just love places like this.” Y/N commented. Gilbert turned to her, fully attentive. “Little shops with routines. Every day should be the same, but you never know when something could come along and change that.” she divulged. Gilbert smiled and stepped closer to her.

“I know what you mean.” He took her hands in his. They felt small and cold against him. “Sometimes, something walks into your life and, how you say, shakes it up.” Y/N nodded at his words. “Sometimes it’s bad,” he continued. “But it can often be very good.” He ran over the wet tendrils of hair framing her face but pulled away from her quickly when the older man stepped back into the front room, handing a large knit blanket to Gilbert.

“Feel free to eat anything off the shelves. It’ll all be thrown out in the morning anyway. I’ll be in the back preparing for tomorrow if you need anything.”

Gilbert nodded gratefully and wrapped it around Y/N. She frowned. “Aren’t you cold too?”

Gilbert shrugged. “I am fine. You need the warmth.”

She looked down at herself. “It’s big enough for two.” she said quietly. “Nothing warms like body heat.” She looked up at Gilbert carefully. Despite the way his heart raced, a relaxed grin spread across his lips. He stepped towards Y/N and took the blanket off her shoulders. Gilbert moved behind her and hugged his arms around her, wrapping them both in the blanket.

The two stepped over to the place the baker had gestured to, looking at all the different things there. Gilbert smiled as Y/N excitedly pointed out the decorations on the different pastries. Her eyes were wide with amazement. He could’ve sworn he saw them sparkle.

“You should try this.” she stated, turning to the side and holding up a pastry with a heavy amount of cream on it.

“I should try that?” he asked. She grinned deviously.

“Yeah, you should.” she stated before shoving it roughly against his mouth. His eyes widened.

Qu'est-ce que tu as juste fait?” he asked, distressed. She only shrugged in response. Gilbert’s face fell flat. He picked up another pastry and pushed it against her own mouth. She gasped and glared before picking up a small cake. She raised her hand, but Gilbert grabbed her wrist and pulled it away from his face. The blanket slipped off of them. His other hand automatically attached to her waist. She looked up at him slowly. Gilbert gently pulled her closer to him.

“There you are!” a muffled voice called. The two looked out the window and saw a group of young men and women standing outside. The rain had stopped, but they looked freezing. Gilbert watched as Y/N ran quickly to open the door.

“We’ve been looking for you two everywhere!” her friend exclaimed as she stepped into the small business.

“Us two?” Y/N asked. Gilbert’s friends Alexander, John, and Hercules walked into the warmth of the building.

“Hey Laf.” John said casually.

Pourquois est-ce que tu es ici?” Gilbert whispered, glancing to Y/N and her two friends.

“They were looking for her.” Alex said, pointing to the girls. “And they saw her go off with you, so we decided to help them.”

Gilbert raised an eyebrow. “I am sure you did.”

“Y/N we should probably go home.” Y/N’s friend stated. The other agreed. Y/N cast a forlorn look at Gilbert.

“I…I suppose.”

“I will walk with you.” Gilbert said quickly, not wanting his time with her to end. Hercules’ eyebrows floated upward. Gilbert swallowed hard. “I mean, we all will. We will take the girl’s to their homes, right?” Gilbert turned quickly to his friends.

“Oh yes. We definitely will.” John gave Gilbert a knowing look. Gilbert picked up the blanket and set it on a counter for the baker to find. The entire group, though not happily, pick the ruined baked goods off of the floor.

Once outside, Gilbert locked his arm with Y/N. They walked her two friends to their residences first, but the time soon came for Y/N to leave. She turned to Gilbert with a sad smile when they reached her home. The other boys had started to walk ahead already, giving them a blissful moment of privacy.

Gilbert pressed his forehead to Y/N’s. “I wish you did not have to go, belle.”

“I wish I didn’t either.” she sighed.

“May I write you?”

A mischievous glint showed through Y/N’s beautiful eyes. Those eyes which Gilbert knew he’d never forget. “You can do more than that Monsieur.” She wrapped her arms and his neck. Gilbert smiled and leaned down to meet her lips with his. The kiss was sweet and slow. She tasted like sweet cream and champagne. He put a hand to the side of her face, wanting to pull her ever closer. Gilbert only pulled away when his lungs were burning for air.

“Good night, Monsieur.” she whispered.

“Vous êtes belles, mais vous êtes vides”, Le Petit Prince

La solitude t’a souvent fait de l’œil, telle une enchanteresse qui promettait monts et merveilles. Pourtant, la solitude a ses torts qu’t’as pas su entrapercevoir.

La première fois, c’était un soir d’été, sur le bord de la falaise. Les vagues s’échouaient avec violence contre la roche et plus loin, y’avait ton chien. Il était la gueule béante, la langue pendue, le regard vif, les poils soulevés par la brise, les pattes ancrées dans le sol, il semblait heureux celui-là. Et toi ? Toi, t’étais assise là-bas, les pieds dans le vide, un joint au bec, un livre dans les mains et le casque sur les oreilles.
La solitude entière t’a accostée, elle t’a charmée, ça y’est t’es comme prise au piège.

La solitude t’a envahie avec tant de profondeur, au point que tu te fais peur à toi même quand ça va pas.
La froideur de tes os s’entend au grain de ta voix. L’ectoplasme, que tu meus avec difficulté, est entrain de s’effondrer à chaque inspiration expirée. Il t’arrive, c’est vrai, de lutter la tête relevée, mais la plupart du temps, à mon plus grand dam, il t’arrive de végéter à n’en plus voir la lumière du soleil.

« Standardisons ta vie ! », que ton amie te dit, « Polis moi tout ça putain, personne n’ira te faire de la place, range tous ces sweat-shirts et va mettre un beau tailleur ».
La haine parcoure chaque cm3  de ton être, « fais ta pute et les portes te seront ouvertes » qu’ils t’hurlent. Tu t’y refuses, au grand jamais.

La solitude t’habite, et parfois t’en es fière, face à ta mère, t’as ce regard, là, qui dit « regarde-moi bien, tu t’rappelles de cette pauvre conne qui ne pensait qu’à fuir, qu’à déguerpir ? Jamais fléchir, toujours courir, voici son art de vivre, elle s’est faite toute seule, sans personne. Oui c’est vrai, la petite gamine se sent toujours sur le point de partir, mais toujours avec un grand sourire qui te hurle putain que oui je vais revenir, oui putain que je vais m’en sortir ».

Alors t’as grandi, accompagnée par la solitude, si bien qu’s’en est devenue une habitude. Evidemment, elle a accueilli à bras ouvert Marie-Jeanne, pour satisfaire toutes ces nuits d’insomnies, tous ces soirs avec soi-même, toutes ces journées en pleine défonce productive. Le chemin fut chaotique, parfois dans une mauvaise dynamique, au point que les yeux piquent ou que le cœur s’effrite. 

Comme un bonhomme, t’as su encaisser, comme une gosse, tu t’es effondrée, comme en plein vol plané, tu t’es enfumée. La solitude n’est pas physique, elle s’est logée dans tes pupilles. Ton champ de vision est filtré ou édulcoré, mais ta solitude se doit d’être domptée, cajolée, emmitouflée, au point qu’elle devienne réconfortante ou enivrante. La solitude t’a façonnée, elle t’a dévisagée. En retour, tu as su l’apprivoiser avec plus ou moins de gaieté.

 Le Petit Prince t’a murmurée que l’amitié était la plus chérissable des relations humaines, alors tu as aimé d’amitié, avec toute l’énergie qui t’animait. Durant ta pénible errance adolescente, tu as apprivoisé quelques renards qui croisaient ton chemin souvent par hasard. Tu te pointais devant eux, avec toute la névrose qui pouvait te traverser, et tu leur disais gentiment « Je ne suis pour toi qu'un renard semblable à cent mille renards. Mais, si tu m'apprivoises, nous aurons besoin l'un de l'autre ». La main tendue fut saisie, au grand jamais tu ne lâcheras ces mains. À t’en rompre le poignet s’il le faut, t’iras sortir de la tempête tes petites teignes qui n’en font qu’à leur tête.

 Mauvaise graine, mauvaises habitudes, mauvaises directions peut-être, tant pis. Dans la colère ou dans la poussière, tu as gambergé, cogné, escaladé. Les souvenirs vécus ne te seront jamais enlevés, même la solitude n’y arrivera pas. Tout compte fait, c’était eux tes derniers remparts, les derniers gros bras avant la nuit noire qui happe tout sur son passage. T’en dois une à pas mal de tes cons, ces mauvaises fréquentations ont su s’adoucir, se polir, avec patience ou romance.

 La solitude n’est pas belle, elle rend peut-être un peu singulière, elle est capable de t’faire manger la poussière ou t’enfermer en plein enfer. Mais elle te dira toujours « Je t’aime », elle t’apprendra à encaisser sans te plaindre, à t’émanciper, à rire devant la glace, à jouir devant un livre ou t’illuminer devant un chef d’œuvre de Goya. La solitude t’abandonnera pas, elle te poursuivra à t’en donner des crampes ou boucher tes artères par du goudron ou des taz amères.