#bad french

[oksurethisismyname]

Zoro, walking into the galley: hey cook, wanna fuck?

Sanji, turning around from washing dishes to see Zoro holding a seal: STOP ASKING ROBIN TO TEACH YOU FRENCH, and put that seal BACK WHERE YOU FOUND IT

[akwolfgrl]

I'm a great fuck but better lover

Zoro and everyone else minus Sanji was waiting on deck for dinner to be called when Mr. Noodles came running out of the galley and hopped up on the railing licking his chops. A bang turned his attention back to galley as Sanji flung open the door, fire in his eyes as he ran towards his cat.

“Espèce de petite menace ! Ma quiche ! Vous avez mangé une partie du dîner de ce soir ! Espèce de mauvais garçon! (You little menace! My quiche! You ate some of tonight's dinner! You bad boy!) Sanji picked Mr. Noodles up by the scuff, his hand still supporting him by his ass as he carried him back into the kitchen.

“Wana follow?” Zoro looked back at the others in question. They all headed inside to snoop.

“Tu es un petit méchant ! Espèce de chat maléfique, de salaud ignoble, de ruineur de dîner, qu'est-ce que je vais faire de toi! (you are a little villain! You evil cat, dastardly bastard, dinner ruiner, what am I going to do with you!)” Sanji scolded the cat, and all Zoro could think was that he wanted Sanji to do the same thing to him. He could feel his face grow hot, and his dick twitched in his pants.

“I'll eat it!” Luffy chimed in interpreting Sanji's rant.

“Well it was your quiche he stole some of anyway,”

All threw out dinner, which was delicious, of course. Zoro could only think about getting Sanji up to the crow's nest. He knew he was supposed to make it up to him, but maybe he asked nicely if he'd step on him and degrade him.

“So that's what gets you off? You're even more of a freak than I thought. You two suit each other way too well,” Nami's voice was not the one he wanted to hear.

“What do you want, witch?” Zoro turned to glare at her. She was leaning against the edge of crows nest her arms at her side, her hand resting on the wood. She had a smirk on her face.

“I'll make you a deal, you take my night watches and I'll keep my mouth shut,”

Zoro wanted to tell her no. His first instinct was to yell at her to hide his embarrassment. But if he gave her what she wanted, and took her night watch. That would mean one more night of privacy with Sanji.

“Fine,” Zoro huffed. “You've got a deal,”

“Perfect! Have fun, just not too much fun, Luffy may sleep like the dead, but the rest of us don't,” With that, Nami made her way back down to the deck.

[grosslyoversimplifiedpolitics]

[ID: Screenshot of an Ao3 tag that reads, "Bad French" /End ID]

[im-not-cannon]

Hogwarts never knew...

Sirius, spitting: comment s'est passee ta journee ?(How was your day?) Regulus, hissing: Slughorn etait un con aujourd'hui (Slughorn was a dick today) The whole school, who thinks their fighting: COOL

James and Remus, who learnt French to impress their respective crushes: WTF

[tournevis-real]

Rewatching Guardian (because I can, and why not) and just noticed this text in a storefont on episode 8, in the scene when Old Chu and Little Goa discover the dead underworlder (sadly not in the taxi scene).

The writing in reversed on screen, but flipping it the text is in Bad!French.

beaucoup de villes dans lemonde, Il existe tant de bistrots dans une ville, alors qu'elle entre dans celui-là

It translates as:

a lot of cities in theworld, there exists so many bistrots in a city, while she enters this one there

I love Bad!French in Asian media. Always a treat.

[leesielou]

My husband made this meme after we watched bake off tonight. He speaks a fair bit of French, and we were talking about the English butchering a lot of the French pastry names. We think they do it on purpose to make the French cranky. 😅

[inkblot22]

He Begs Not For Petulance

GN!Reader x Rook Hunt

I didn't really know what to title this lol, but I hope this fits

TW for: captivity, kidnapping, infantilization and feminization if you squint, allusions to past victims, yandere, mention of nonconsensual kissing, Rook (because he frightens me and I'm certain I'm not the only one,) stalking, slight blood, being hunted, rusty French.

It was unclear if his presence was something to take solace in. On one hand, they knew where he was, but on the other hand, he was right there. He was right there, and watching, bright, unsettling green eyes tracking each and every little move as he sat in his chair at the small table in the cabin.

They hated his eyes, they hated the way he’d stare at them. 

They swore up and down that he had a notebook or something equally violating on them somewhere, but they just hadn’t managed to find it, yet. All they’d found were several dresses, some skirts, plenty of shirts, and a few pairs of nice slacks. They didn’t want to know where they had come from. There were too many possibilities and only a few were good. 

As it was, they were trying not to drop the ingredients for dinner as he stared at them. He probably knew how creepy that was, but ever since he had declared them too frail to leave, regardless of how untrue that was, they decided he probably didn’t care anymore. 

“What do you want?” They sounded more sad than angry, but it was worth it. 

“Ah, so you do notice when I am gazing upon your most beautiful visage.”

That was another thing. He spoke like he was in a play or something, often lapsing into monologues as though they were soliloquies, his private thoughts on display in the form of ridiculous, nonsensical poetry.

They hated his poetry, how he’d read it to them, only waiting for their horror when they realised who the subject was.

“Okay,” They responded, finally, chopping squash with that silly safety knife he insisted they use, not like they had a choice. He’d replaced all the utensils and cutlery with children’s cooking tools. 

It was almost as if he knew how much they disliked him, how angry they were that he had kept them here in this stupid little cabin in the woods. The table rattled on the rickety wooden floor as he stood, hands coming to cup their elbows.

“Please, mon ange, one would assume you had a vendetta against the cutting board. What’s the matter?” He wasn’t smiling as he bent to look them in the eyes.

“I,” they chopped hard, the cutting board echoing with the harsh end of each word, “Want,” another thunk, the bit of gourd trembling with the force of the knife, “To go home, Rook!”

“Well, don’t be foolish.” He straightened, smiling, “This is your new home.”

“No!” They tossed the knife into the sink and scraped the squash into the pot with their hand, “No, it isn’t, don’t say it is! I’m a prisoner.”

“My love, you’re being ridiculous. I am not a warden, to keep you here against your will. I-”

“Are you crazy? That’s literally what you’ve done!”

He paused, then a smile crept along his face, eyes squinting a little as he grinned, “Ah… I see. Tu veux sortir. You want to go outside and be among the wildflowers and trees. Alas…” He summoned tears to his eyes, his knuckles delicately pressed to his brow, “I am a cruel warden indeed, to not notice how tired you are of being held within this most homely of cages…”

He was so obnoxious. They hated how often he would do this, voice echoing off the wooden roof of the cabin as he waxed poetic about some bullshit. 

They hated his voice, how he’d look as he spoke to see their reactions.

“Mon ange, don’t glare at me so. I’ll let you out, and perhaps you will become more lively.”

They decided not to say anything, either a “thank you” or a “shut the hell up.” Instead, they stirred the soup and glanced at the door. It was chilly out, but the sky was slightly cloudy and the breeze was probably nice. It was hot and stuffy in the cabin, and everything smelled like Rook, which is to say it smelled like his natural scent, like cucumber, like musk. 

They hated his smell too, how he’d maintain eye contact as he bathed when he knew they were glancing to see if he was still there. 

He laughed as their brow furrowed further, opening the door, “Come, let’s go outside. The soup can wait.”

Stepping outside for the first time in however long they’d been stuck inside was ethereal. As soon as they ducked out from under Rook’s arm, they took off running, well aware he’d want them back later, but with no intention of following his wishes. The grass was cool on their bare feet, and were they a little less sane, they’d likely bend to kiss the ground. Climbing a tree, they relaxed a bit into the bark and scanned the horizon.

They’d come to him for help in the late autumn. They’d fallen off of a caravan, bleeding into the snow and frightened by the howls and worsening blizzard. How were they to know that that sweetened smile and blond hair hid a madman? He invited them in, politely drawn them a bath, given them a hot meal, but in the morning, refused to let them go until their wounds were healed. 

One morning turned into a full week, and a full week became a month, full of disturbing discoveries and strange advances. The first time he kissed them was during a fight on whether or not they could go home, and ever since then, they’d demanded he sleep in the cellar, to which he acquiesced as long as they made dinner, but they could tell he was growing impatient. He went on and on about how true and pure their love was, but they weren’t in love, and they had no clue how many other poor souls had heard the same rhetoric. Unfortunately, every time they tried to leave when he was home, he’d stop them, his grip growing stronger and stronger each time. When he’d leave, to go hunting or for groceries, he’d place a spell on the door to keep it locked. 

They stared at the sunset for a moment, then looked down and noticed something they hadn’t seen before. On the night they came to his cabin, they had simply been running aimlessly, but there was, in fact, a path. Paths usually meant other people, and other people meant they could finally get away from Rook. They scrambled down the tree, then began walking along the path. 

The cool air was like nectar to their lungs. They’d never see him again if this went how they wanted. They’d never go near cucumber, and they’d never eat squash again. He’d be nothing but a bad memory. 

As they came to a crossroads, they jumped as an arrow lodged itself into the signpost. They spun around but saw nothing, and kept walking to the left, haste in their steps. They broke into a run after a few paces, panic speeding their breaths. Another arrow hit a tree trunk and they ran faster. They couldn’t go back, not now, but when a bolt of ice froze the ground before them, they were forced to turn off into the woods and keep running.

The arrows stopped, since he probably paused to collect them. The twigs stabbed their bare feet like glass, but they kept running, panting like an animal. Something grabbed their arm and yanked them back, throwing them into a tree trunk.

“I must be honest, mon ange. I expected this of you, but I did not think your endurance was so wonderful.” 

They wheezed against the tree, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Oh, my. If you do not understand, then who am I to break the illusion?” He knelt before them, tilting their head up, “Ever petulant, aren’t we?”

As he dragged them back to the cabin, all they could think of was how close they’d gotten, but it was unlikely they’d get another chance. 

He was always watching them, anyway, and that’s what they hated most about him.

Part Two: He Begs For Uniformity

[logarithmicpanda]

Dear Naomi Novik,

Please stop using french in your books, or learn it instead of using Google translate.

C'est temps dissoudre par coup de foudre means shitall. If I had to put it back in English in a way that y'all understand the level of cringe, it would be like :

He is time to dissolve with the love from the initial sighting.

You can guess what it's getting at. But you know without a doubt no native speaker wrote that.

Like I have zero issue with someone learning french who'd speak that way, but a professional author writing that in a published book with clearly no interest in accuracy? That's just using my language for cosmetic. Sure you can do it, but I'll consider you a goddamn clown.

It's instantly pulling me out of the book