The following points are 5 classic French conversational techniques and mannerisms to help you sound just a bit more truly français:
1. The tactical use of bah
Fairly difficult to translate, the French bah is used rather regularly and can make your speech pattern sound very authentic.
In answer to an obvious question perhaps:
“Tu aimes bien la pizza?” (Do you like pizza?)
“Bah oui, bien sur!” (Well, yes, of course!)
Or something like the following:
“Tu adores le brocoli?” (Do you love broccoli?)
“Bah non! Je déteste!” (No, I hate it!)
Or as a deep, elongated syllable to fill gaps while you think:
“Qu’est-ce que tu fais le weekend?” (What are you doing on the weekend?)
“Baaaaaahh, en fait je ne sais pas encore.” (Well…actually I don’t know yet)
2. Add quoi to the ends of sentences
This one is also not easy to translate, but it would be the French equivalent of “whatever” or “innit.” So, you might imagine that it shouldn’t be used when talking formally, but it’s used often in casual conversation and can perfectly round off a sentence.
“C’est quoi, ça?” (What is that?)
“Euuh, je ne sais pas exactement mais je pense que c’est une sorte de nourriture, quoi.” (Um, I’m not really sure but I think it’s a type of food or whatever.)
3. Using eh, ah and hein like there’s no tomorrow
Whether it’s to fill space while you think or to provoke a response, these elongated vowels are very useful when speaking French. They can be heard very often in conversation.
For example, in English we add “don’t you?”/ “aren’t you?”/ “isn’t it?” to the end of statements to toss the conversational ball back into the other person’s court. The French will simply say “hein?”
headcanon: jack is one of those people whose personality changes based on the language they’re speaking
the first time bitty notices it is during his freshman year. he walks in on jack during a phone call and jack is speaking downright animatedly in french to whoever is on the other end of the line, his eyes rolling and his voice all bouncy with inflection.
bitty’s a bit taken aback. like, jack hasn’t turned into a completely different person or anything (he’s still talking pretty softly, not using a lot of words to express what he means), but bitty’s just never seen jack talk with so much expression before
the other thing is, he talks with his hands when he’s like that. while on the phone. bitty has actually witnessed him gesture so hard while trying to hold his cell up to his ear that it flew out of his hand and across the room. bitty had to bite his tongue not to laugh.
bitty doesn’t really speak french so he has no idea who jack is even talking to, let alone what he’s saying. maybe it’s a girlfriend he keeps calling? that would explain the change, kinda. (he later finds out it’s usually his parents jack’s talking to)
then one day bitty hears jack speak french to ransom. ransom isn’t like a native speaker or anything (he grew up in toronto dude, not gaspésie or something), but he took french until the tenth grade, when he stopped cause he couldn’t fit it in his schedule anymore, and he likes to watch french tv to keep up his fluency. so they’re actually in the middle of watching a random episode sex and the city dubbed in french because there is A GRAND TOTAL OF ONE (1) CHANNEL THAT AIRS FRENCH TELEVISION IN SAMWELL MASSACHUSETTS AND EVEN IF IT SO HAPPENS TO BE BROADCASTING SEX AND THE CITY THEY ARE DAMN WELL GOING TO WATCH IT, THANK YOU VERY MUCH FOR THE INSIGHTFUL OPINIONS FROM THE PEANUT GALLERY, MR. WILLIAM J. “DEX” POINDEXTER.
(rest is under the cut, jesus christ this got long)
Primaticcio, Stucco and Wall Paintings (Chamber of the Duchess of Étampes, Château de Fontainebleau; Fontainebleau, Paris, France), 1540s
Primaticcio worked with Giulio Romano in Mantua and joined the first artistic director at Fontainebleau, Mannerist painter Rosso Francesco, in 1532 and later succeeded him in 1540. Primaticcio worked on the decoration of Fontainebleau from 1532 until his death in 1570. The Duchess of Etampes, the King’s mistress, lived at Fontainebleau and her room was one of Primaticcio’s first projects. The artists combined woodwork, stucco relief, and fresco painting in his complex but graceful interior design. The lithe figures of nymphs, with long necks and small heads, recall Parmigianino’s paintings. Their postures are spiraled and sexual; the wall surfaces is overwhelmed with garlands, mythological figures, Roman architectural ornament yet the visual effect is confident and joyous. The first School of Fontainebleau, as this Italia phase of palace decoration of called, established the Mannerist tradition in painting and interior design that spread to other centers in France and the Netherlands (Marilyn Stokstad, Art History, Volume Two. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Pearson Education, 2008, 721-2).
Le Massacre des Innocents = Massacre of the Innocents Nicolas Poussin (French; 1594–1665) 1626–27 Oil on canvas Le Petit Palais, Paris, France Then Herod, when he saw that he was mocked of the wise men, was exceeding wroth, and sent forth, and slew all the children that were in Bethlehem, and in all the coasts thereof, from two years old and under, according to the time which he had diligently inquired of the wise men. (Matthew 2:16)
practice of carrying your own knife around to use as both weapon and
eating utensil began to disappear in the 1600’s. First, knives
started to be laid out on the table, along with forks (which were
new). Cases of identical knives were being sold, instead of
personal, individual ones.
knives stopped being sharp, thus taking power away from them
physically, not just personally. The purpose of a knife is to cut,
and for a civilization to deliberately make knives blunter is because
of extreme politeness (or passive-aggressiveness).
As the story goes, in 1637 Cardinal Richelieu (Louis XIII’s chief
advisor) saw a dinner guest using the tip of a double-edged knife to
pick his teeth. The cardinal was horrified, and ordered all his own
knives to be blunted. It’s not known whether he was horrified at the
guest’s manners, or the danger. In 1669, Louis XIV forbade French
cutlers to make pointed dinner-knives. They used to be sharpened on
both sides (like a dagger), but now this changed.
At this time, culture was undergoing some dramatic changes. The
Catholic Church was no longer as unified as it had been, and the
chivalric codes of behaviour were long gone. Things that were once
normal now disgusted people – drinking soup straight from the bowl;
using the fingers to take meat from a common dish; using a single,
sharp knife to cut everything. Table manners and table utensils were
changing, and the Europeans, like the Chinese, began to distrust
sharp knives at table. But unlike the Chinese, they kept them at the
table, blunted and less threatening.
In France, knives were often kept off the table in general (except
for certain tasks such as peeling/cutting fruit, which personal
knives were still used for as always).
But in England, knives stayed on the table and became blunter. Table
knives from the 1500’s and 1600’s look like miniature kitchen knives,
with various blade shapes, from dagger-like to pen-knife, even
scimitar-like. The blade could be double-edged or single-edged.
Knives from the 1700’s are completely different. The blade often
curves gently to the right, ending in a rounded tip.
The way to hold a knife also changed. Sharp knives were held with
the whole hand, in a stabbing pose. Blunt knives were held like we
do now – with the index finger along the spine, and the palm
wrapped around the handle.
The blunting of table knives, and the consequent new way to hold
them, is why many people have bad knife skills in the kitchen.
Holding a kitchen knife like that is actually dangerous – you
should strongly grip the bottom of the blade between thumb and
So the English in the 1700’s sat at table with their pretty, useless
little table knives, trying to avoid any gesture that could suggest
violence. By the late 1700’s, the Sheffield table knives were really
just about display – in high London society, people laid them out
on the table to show off the host’s taste and wealth. They were
beautiful objects, but that was about it.
Carrying a knife with you was very bad manners, now. In 1769, an
Italian man called Joseph Baretti was charged for stabbing a man in
self-defence in London, with a small folding fruit-knife. Baretti
defended himself by saying that on the Continent, it was normal to
carry a sharp knife around for cutting fruit and sweetmeats. A
century ago, he wouldn’t have had to explain this.
The Sheffield cutlers used carbon steel for table knives, which was a
better metal for forging than previous metals used. But for taste,
it was dreadful. Non-stainless steel reacts badly with acid, turning
black, and giving a gross metallic taste/aftertaste to the food.
This is why even today, the French consider it bad manners to cut
salad leaves – vinaigrette in particular reacted badly.
And fish. For centuries, people had eaten fish with lemon – but
until stainless steel was invented in the 1920’s, lemony fish would
be ruined if you ate it with a knife. In the 1800’s, silver fish
knives were invented – silver is non-corrosive and doesn’t react
with lemon juice. Of course only the rich could afford them. They
had a scalloped shape, originally to distinguish them in the cutlery
drawer, and because fish was soft and didn’t need strong/sharp
cutting. If you didn’t have silver fish knives, then you’d use two
forks, or a fork & piece of bread – or put up with the gross
Stainless steel is also called inox steel, or non-rusting steel. It
is a metal alloy with a high chromium content. What happens is that
the chromium forms an invisible layer of chromium oxide when exposed
to the air. This stops the knives from rusting, and keeps them
In 1908, Friedrich Krupp built a 366-tonne yacht called Germania
with a chrome steel hull. Before WW1, Harry Brearley (of
Thomas Firth and Sons, in Sheffield) was trying to find a metal for
gun barrels that wouldn’t corrode. This led to stainless steel
At first, stainless steel was hard to work in all except the simplest
of cutlery patterns. But WW2’s industrial innovations meant that
stainless steel knives could now be made cheaply and efficiently, in
the shapes people wanted.
I saw the White queen for the first time two days ago and it strikes me that Janet McTeer would be a perfect Jocasta.. she is very tall, beautiful, magnificent blue eyes and she looks like Sam.. so even if I love Sophie and very curious about her works on S3 (Sam's mimetism and more), the cast département could have find an actress who looks really like Sam.. A tall redhead with blue eyes or even they could use contact for Sophie.. sometimes she looks like Sam but with her eyes it's hard to see
I’ll be interested to see more of Sophie. We really only saw her in one episode and she was playing a bit strong with the attitude of finding out who her father is and having that be life consuming to her.
Just took a quick peak at Janet McTeer. Wow! She’s only 55, but looking at some of the photos where she has played an older role, she would be perfect. She is very beautiful and has all the right qualities.
From Drums of Autumn here is a description of Jocasta.
I found her at once, among the people hurrying out of the house and down the walk. I would have known her for a MacKenzie, even if I hadn’t known who she was. She had the bold bones, the broad Viking cheekbones and high, smooth brow of her brothers, Colum and Dougal. And like her nephew, like her great-niece, she had the extraordinary height that marked them all as descendants of one blood.
A head higher than the bevy of black servants who surrounded her, she floated down the path from the house, hand on the arm of her butler, though a woman less in need of support I had seldom seen.
She was tall and she was quick, with a firm step at odds with the white of her hair. She might once have been as red as Jamie; her hair still held a tinge of ruddiness, having gone that rich soft white that redheads do, with the buttery patina of an old gold spoon.
There was a cry from one of the little boys in the vanguard, and two of them broke loose, galloping down the path toward the mooring, where they circled us, yapping like puppies. At first I couldn’t make out a word— it was only as Ian replied jocularly to them that I realized they were shouting in Gaelic.
I didn’t know whether Jamie had thought what to say or to do upon this first meeting, but in the event, he simply stepped forward, went up to Jocasta MacKenzie, and embraced her, saying, “Aunt— it’s Jamie.”
It was only as he released her and stepped back that I saw his face, with an expression I had never seen before; something between eagerness, joy, and awe. It occurred to me, with a small jolt of shock, that Jocasta MacKenzie must look very much like her elder sister— Jamie’s mother.
I thought she might have his deep blue eyes, though I couldn’t tell; they were blurred as she laughed through her tears, holding him by the sleeve, reaching up to touch his cheek, to smooth nonexistent strands of hair from his face.
“Jamie!” she said, over and over. “Jamie, wee Jamie! Oh, I’m glad ye’ve come, lad!” She reached up once more, and touched his hair, a look of amazement on her face.
“Blessed Bride, but he’s a giant! You’ll be as tall as my brother Dougal was, at least!”
The expression of happiness on his face faded slightly at that, but he kept his smile, turning her with him so she faced me.
“Auntie, may I present my wife? This is Claire.”
She put out a hand at once, beaming, and I took it between my own, feeling a small pang of recognition at the long, strong fingers; though her knuckles were slightly knobbed with age, her skin was soft and the feel of her grip was unnervingly like Brianna’s.
“I am so glad to meet ye, my dear,” she said, and drew me close to kiss my cheek. The scent of mint and verbena wafted strongly from her dress, and I felt oddly moved, as though I had suddenly come under the protection of some beneficent deity.
“So beautiful!” she said admiringly, long fingers stroking the sleeve of my dress.
“Thank you,” I said, but Ian and Fergus were coming up to be introduced in their turn. She greeted them both with embraces and endearments, laughing as Fergus kissed her hand in his best French manner.
“Come,” she said, breaking away at last, and wiping at her wet cheeks with the back of a hand. “Do come in, my dearies, and take a dish of tea, and some food. Ye’ll be famished, no doubt, after such a journey. Ulysses!” She turned, seeking, and her butler stepped forward, bowing low.
“Anne was the second of three surviving children born to the ambitious courtier Thomas Boleyn and his wife Elizabeth Howard. The date of Anne’s birth was not recorded, but it is estimated to be around 1501. Anne soon emerged as the more intelligent of the two girls, and her father noted that she was exceptionally toward, and resolved to take ‘all possible care for her good education’. Anne received a good deal of ‘virtuous instruction’, but it was in the more courtly accomplishments of singing and dancing that she really excelled. She played the lute and virginals with a skill beyond her years, and also became adept at poetry and verse. The more academic subjects of literature and languages completed her education, and by the age of eleven she could speak French extremely well.
In 1512, an opportunity arose that to set herself apart from her peers. It was in this year that her father was appointed ambassador to Margaret of Austria. Margaret’s court was renowned for being the most sophisticated and prestigious in Europe, an ideal training ground for young aristocratic women who wished to enhance their social standing. At the tender age of twelve, Anne set sail for the Netherlands. She was quick to absorb the skills expected of a court lady, and Margaret was delighted with her and wrote how ‘bright and pleasant’ she was for her young age. But it was in France that her education reached its zenith, and her experiences here would have a profound effect upon her character and demeanour. Thomas Boleyn used his political contacts to secure a place for Anne in the household of Mary Tudor. Margaret was sad to lose this lively and engaging addition to her court, but Anne shared her father’s ambition and was delighted at the prospect of serving Henry VIII’s sister. She travelled straight to France, arriving there in August 1513, but soon transferred her service to Queen Claude, wife of King Francis I.
Anne was earning a reputation as one of the the most graceful and accomplished ladies of the Queen’s household. She thrived in the lively and intellectually stimulating French court, and developed a love of learning that continued throughout her life. Among her closest companions was Marguerite of Navarre, sister of Francis I, who was regarded as something of a radical for her views on women, and she encouraged Anne’s interest in literature and poetry. It was here that Anne also developed a love of lively conversation, a skill that would set her apart from the quieter, more placid ladies at the English court when she made her entrée there. So entirely did Anne embrace the French manners, language and customs that Lancelot de Carles observed she was: ‘so graceful that you would never have taken her for an Englishwoman, but for a French woman born’.”
“Oh my God, he’s so hot.” Alfred muttered quietly, yet loud enough for his close friend, Arthur Kirkland, who was seated next to him, to hear. Arthur let out a heavy breath, dragging his eyes up from his horrifically detailed schedule to look at his friend; if he hadn’t heard what the taller blonde said, he would have surmised that Alfred was on the brink of a panic attack or a type of conniption.
During the time between him voicing his praises and Arthur bringing his gaze to his friend, the man had stood from the table they were seated at in the library, hauled himself the short ways to a nearby bookshelf, and was gripping the side of the fine, elaborately decorated wooden shelf with a fierce grip. Arthur needn’t look to know whom his friend was addressing, but, when he did, his gaze met the familiar figure of the tall, Russian, study abroad student who was seated peacefully in an armchair, reading what looked to be a rather long novel, a small stack of book settled beside the armchair on the floor along with a fashionable leather book bag. He was settled in for quite a while, it would seem.
Arthur returned his gaze back to his friend and, as per usual, Alfred was gawking. Alfred was looking at the man with an intense, yet appreciative stare, as if the Russian would soon disappear for good and Alfred needed to commit the man’s visage to memory for the sake of his own, personal posterity. The taller blonde was lucky that the object of his affections was nose deep in a book, otherwise he may have scared him off.
In the history of twentieth century modernism, Henri Matisse is a calm and unstoppable revolution of creative genius.
Trained originally in the French classical manner, he was inspired by the Impressionists and Cézanne to create in a style that brought out the beauty of colour, form and line by reducing them to their essentials. While considered a leader of the Fauves and an inspiration to most of the great figures in modern art, he wasn’t particularly interested in being associated with any particular school or trend. A family man who worked ‘office hours’ in his studio he defies the image of the artist as enfant terrible or tortured soul.
In a career spanning six decades, he produced masterpiece after masterpiece that constantly challenge how we perceive color and form.
Summary: You fail to admit your feelings for your favourite fighting frenchman, and the subtle hints just won’t do it, so you use jealousy as your weapon.
Warning: Swearing, Light smut??? Actually not, idk. its very subtle i guess.
Note: Ya,I wanted to write a fic for Lafayette so long!!! But I had no ideas, so I asked my dear @fanfrickinhamiltasticimagines to help me for the plot, but I’m not sure how much of that is still left? Also Laf turned out a lot more salty than he is??? Headcannon for laf btw: Him calling hamilton alexandre instead of alexander. because it sounds nice. also. good french!!! Shall i translate it?
Lafayette”, you greeted your french friend, giving him a
sheepish smile as you sat down next to him, holding a steaming hot
coffee in your hands. “Oh, mon amie.” He looked up from his
phone to greet you with two kisses on your cheeks in the typical
french manner, making you blush in almost an instant. As always, he
was wearing his hair up, and you had to resist the urge to run your
fingers through it. The bright smile he was flashing you was
contagious, so you decided to return it.