#French Dinning Table

[frenchtables]

The Timeless Elegance of French Parquetry Dining Tables

When it comes to home décor, the dining table often serves as the centrepiece of social gatherings, family dinners, and holiday celebrations. French parquetry dining tables are a timeless combination of elegance, workmanship, and beauty, and they are available in a wide variety of forms. Let's explore what makes these tables unique and why they can be the ideal accent piece for your house.

A Glimpse into History

Derived from the French word "parqueterie," French parquetry is a term used to describe a geometric mosaic of wood pieces used for decorative purposes. This elaborate art genre was made popular during Louis XIV's reign in the 17th century. The technique was first applied to flooring in palaces and large estates, and it quickly made its way into furniture design, producing pieces that were both visually pleasing and useful.

The Craftsmanship

A high degree of skill and attention to detail is required in the tedious process of creating a dining table with French parquetry. Artists choose various wood species with great care, frequently utilising walnut, oak, and cherry to produce designs with contrast. Following careful cutting, these woods are assembled like a puzzle to create elaborate geometric patterns like chevrons and herringbones.

The process involves several stages:

Selection of Wood: Choosing high-quality, contrasting woods to enhance the visual appeal.

Cutting and Shaping: Cutting the wood into precise, interlocking pieces.

Assembly: Meticulously fitting the pieces together to form a seamless design.

Finishing: Sanding, staining, and varnishing the table to protect the wood and enhance its natural beauty.

Unique Patterns and Designs

The range of patterns and motifs seen in French parquetry dining tables is one of their most alluring features. Because each table is handmade, it displays the artist's imagination as well as the organic beauty of the wood. 

Common patterns include:

Herringbone: A classic design where rectangular pieces are laid out in a zigzag pattern.

Chevron: Similar to herringbone but with the ends of the wood pieces cut at an angle to create a continuous zigzag pattern.

Versailles: Named after the famous palace, this pattern features squares and rectangles arranged in a complex, symmetrical design.

These patterns not only enhance the aesthetic appeal of the table but also add a sense of depth and texture to the dining space.

Integrating French Parquetry into Modern Homes

Despite their historical origins, French parquetry dining tables are incredibly versatile and can complement a wide range of interior styles, from traditional to contemporary. Here are a few tips on how to incorporate a parquetry table into your home:

Traditional Elegance: Pair your parquetry table with antique chairs and classic tableware to create a sophisticated, timeless dining room.

Modern Contrast: Use the intricate design of the parquetry table as a focal point in a minimalist room with sleek, modern furniture and neutral colours.

Rustic Charm: Combine the table with rustic elements like wrought iron chairs, natural textiles, and vintage accessories for a cozy, farmhouse feel.

Care and Maintenance

To ensure your French parquetry dining table remains a beautiful centrepiece for years to come, proper care and maintenance are essential. Here are some tips:

Avoid Direct Sunlight: Prolonged exposure to sunlight can fade the wood. Position your table away from direct sunlight or use curtains to filter the light.

Regular Cleaning: Dust the table regularly with a soft, dry cloth. For deeper cleaning, use a damp cloth followed by a dry one to prevent moisture damage.

Use Coasters and Mats: Protect the table from scratches and spills by using coasters, placemats, and tablecloths during meals.

Polish Periodically: Use a high-quality furniture polish to maintain the shine and protect the wood. Avoid silicone-based polishes, as they can damage the finish over time.

Conclusion

A dining table with French parquetry is a work of art that symbolises centuries of tradition, workmanship, and beauty. It is more than just a piece of furniture. A parquetry table offers a special fusion of beauty and usefulness, whether you want to upgrade a conventional dining room or add a touch of refinement to a modern area. Purchasing such a table not only enhances the look of your home but also makes it a magnificent focal point for special events and get-togethers.

[perthfurniture-fun]

French Provincial Accent Dinning Chair Black Solid Wood Leg- Luxury Velvet Model

Introducing the French Provincial Accent Dining Chair - a luxurious addition to your dining space. This exquisite model features a timeless design with black solid wood legs, exuding elegance and sophistication. Wrapped in premium velvet upholstery, it provides both comfort and style, making it the perfect choice for any dining setting.

Indulge in the allure of French Provincial furniture in Perth with this captivating dining chair that effortlessly combines luxury and comfort into a remarkable piece of home decor.

[traveler-at-heart]

Love Language

Summary: Natasha and you share a secret language. Just a short drabble!

Russian, English, Chinese, French, German are some of the languages listed on Natasha’s file.

But there was another one, hidden in plain sight, that apparently only you could understand.

It was the little things, the silences, the requests that weren’t verbalized. Only statements about her day, or apparent offerings that hid a need of her own.

Like certain mornings, when you greeted her in the kitchen and asked if she had breakfast yet.

“I’m not hungry”

“That won’t do” you’d answer like clockwork, reciting all the things you could do that you knew she liked. Omelette, sandwich, pancakes.

“Pancakes are fine” she’d shrug her shoulders, but would leave the plate clean. Then, she’d approach you as you did the dishes and muttered a quiet thank you.

An invitation to play games (anything, from chess to cards or Mario Kart) would be followed by a suggestion that since she’d won, the least Natasha could do was take you to dinner.

So you spent the night in one of the restaurants you both liked. Picking a place was easy; you listed the places and Natasha would interrupt you when you got to the one she wanted.

“That one was nice last time”

There are times when you’d sit in the dinning table, while she reads the paper. The entertainment section is conveniently on your side, and you grab it to read the titles of the movies showing in the old cinema downtown.

“Haven’t seen that one yet” she’d comment after you get to the right one.

Movie nights were your thing, and you always paid for the tickets and anything she wanted from the candy store.

“The movie was good” she’d say. “I’ll pick next time”

As if it hadn’t been her choice in the first place.

“Sure, Nat” you always answered, amused.

Back from missions, she always sat next to you on the Quinjet, asking if you could check for injuries she might have missed.

“Now you” she’d say. It was her way of checking that you were ok, without having to seem too concerned. You smiled as she grumbled, displeased when she saw a little bruise or open skin, her hands lingering as she cleaned the wounds.

To anyone else, it may seem frustrating. To you, it was beautiful to experience Natasha’s love language. Asking for help, seeking your company, were signs that she could and wanted to be vulnerable. To you, it was a privilege.

You could have done it forever, in all honesty.

Until one night, when a mission went sideways. Everyone was shooting, blowing up walls and trying to stay alive.

You ran from one room to the next, looking for Pietro as his comms weren’t working.

“Hey, wrap this up, kiddo” you screamed, shooting at the people trying to shoot him.

“Almost done” he grunted. He was slower, and you figured it might have something to do with the wound on his abdomen.

“Come on” you said, taking out the last guard that was behind his back.

No one was watching your back, though. You felt the pain in your chest and leg, falling in the middle of rubble and bodies.

Your eyes remained unfocused, barely listening to the commotion around you. Green eyes, filled with tears brought you back to reality.

“Stay with me” Natasha asked.

For the first time, she asked.

You’d feel overjoyed if it weren’t for the two bullet holes in your body.

She didn’t hide how terrified she was, of the blood flowing and the life leaving your eyes.

“Please don’t leave me” she asked again, and you nodded.

You kept your promise until the Quinjet landed, and everything went dark.

—

“I’m being such a pain in the ass” you say every time you ask for something.

Recovery’s been slow, but you won’t complain because Natasha’s by your side all the time.

“Ask for anything you need”

“How about a kiss?”

And then, she’ll roll her eyes, but lean forward, happy to feel your lips against hers.

Neither needs to ask, nor tell, but you know you love Natasha, and she loves you.

It’s in everything you do for each other.

[charlesf1leclerc]

KUWTL

Summary- a night in the life of the leclercs 

Warnings- cuteness, badly translated French, talks of bathing kids, poorly edited ( like not re read so if you see some really bad mistake please tell me )

Notes - Inds- Indy’s nickname, Lily- Sicilys nickname

It was currently 5:30 on a Saturday evening and it was time to start the Leclerc family house good night routine. You and Charles had a system a system that works as sometimes it could get a bit challenging with two little girls 6 and 2 especially they were both in polar opposite stages of their life’s but vogue just as crazy in their own way.

Both girls were sat on the couch watching cartoons to entertain them. Charles was on the dinning room table looking through that notebook of his were he writes all his racing notes, you weren’t 100% sure but you loved how committed he was to his work. You were in the kitchen getting dinner ready for your family tonight spaghetti bolognese and of course you were the one cooking as well all knew Charles could not cook for the life of him. As you were chopping up the carrots for the sauce Charles got up from the table 

and can over and kissed you on the lips. 

“ I’m gonna get the girls in the bath “ He spoke rubbing your back.

“Thank you, good luck” I laughed as he walked over to the couch we’re the girls were sat

“ ok my angles time for a bubble bath”

“No papa show not done” Sicily spoke in her cute toddler voice

“ I know but do you know how fun it’s gonna be in the bath, with bubbles and we could even get some of those bath time markers out” he kneeled down beside the couch rubbing her chubby little cheeks

“ sounds good to me” Sicily smiled jumping down from the couch

“ Ind’s you too come on Cherie “ 

“ 5 more minutessss”

“ how about I pause it and we come back and watch it again later”

“ if I must” she spoke getting off the couch as well following her sister as they both toddled us the stairs. This girls were getting far to sassy for your liking.

The girls were now currently splashing in the bath with the bubbles flying around. The bath titles were covered in doodles from the bath markers you and Charles had brought in order to keep them both occupied during bath time. Charles was shampooing both of their hair and rinsing it off with a little cup filled with water.

“ look papa flower” Sicily pointed to her drawing on the tiles that looked like a blob.

“Wow that’s very beautiful” he spoke leaning on the bathtub and stroking her freshly washed hair.

“That’s not a flower, this is” Indy spoke to her as she draw a flower on the tiled wall.

“ their both beautiful flowers girls , all flowers are different” Charles didn’t want either of the girls to get upset. 

“ ok time to get out loves dinner is basically ready I can smell it up here” 

Charles had gotten both girls out of the bath and wrapped up in their little towels. 

“ Indy why don’t you go get into your pjs and wait in your room I’ll be in once I’ve gotten Lily dressed” 

Charles had picked out the cute little pks and gotten the youngest daughter dressed and her hair brushed out knot free ready for bed. 

“ ok Lily go down stairs and keep mummy company while I check on your sister” he encouraged as she ran down the stairs excited to see her mum and to eat of course that girl loved food.

Walking into the oldest daughters room seeing her all dressed in her pj’s Charles grabbed the brush and began brushing the girls long brown locks.

 “ ouch papa”

“Sorry chérie since when did your hair get this long “ he apologised

“ it just grew I don’t know” she shrugged 

“ Dinners ready everyone “ y/n called from downstairs 

“ ok let’s go eat that delicious food Cherie” 

 Indy walked down the stairs and Charles closely followed behind her. By now the time was 6:30.

 Indy walked over and pulled a chair out to sit in at the dinning room table. While Charles swept Sicily up and placed her into her high chair she has basically grown out of.

You laid the dinner out on the placemats infront of everyone. 

“This looks delicious baby” Charles spoke taking his place at the table digging into dinner.

To say dinner was well enjoyed was an understatement the girls ate every last bite and so did you and Charles although a lot of  Sicilys food ended up on her bib that you would rather she not wear as you thought she was to old but you didn’t want her to keep getting her clothes dirty.

“Papa can we finish the cartoon like you promised now?” Indy shook Charles arm in a pleading manner

“ ok girls but only 20mins and then time to get ready for bed ok” 

“ yay thank you” Indy spoke running away 

“ up papa me wanna watch” Sicily put her arms above her head.

Charles lifted the 2 year old out of her high chair and she copied her sisters movements running into the living room behind her.

Charles packed up the dishes on the table taking them into the kitchen. While you put the placemats away and wiped down the table and high chair.

Charles had started on washing the dishes and you moved to stand next to him drying them and putting them away. There did need to be constant conversation between you two that’s just how you worked you loved each others presence.

By the time 7:30 had rolled around The two girls were both back in the bathroom this time brushing their teeth. Charles had placed the barbie toothpaste onto their toothbrush and Indy was brushing her teeth while Sicily was trying to but Charles had to help every now and then.

You were in the kids bedrooms folding back the covers and trying their night lights on getting their bedrooms ready for bed. Laying out their teddies the way they liked or you knew they wouldn’t sleep.

It was now when you and Charles split up you alternated each night what girl you would get into bed. Tonight it was Charles job to but Sicily to bed and your job to put Indy to bed.

Charles had gotten Sicily into bed and tucked her in. They had chosen out a book to read for the night and Charles had sat on the bed next to her reading to her in a soft voice. 

“ The end”

“ no more papa more”

“ tomorrow night sweetie time for bed now, but first let’s say our good nights”

“ good-“ Lily went to start saying her good nights

“ how about we say it in French tonight Cherie” Charles encouraged

“ ok, bonne nuit étoiles, bonne nuit lune, bonne nuit maison, bonne nuit maman, bonne nuit papa, bonne nuit Indy ( goodnight stars, goodnight moon , goodnight house , goodnight mum , goodnight dad , goodnight Indy ) Sicily said her good nights

“ good job, ok night sweetie I’ll see you in the morning “ Charles stood up putting the book back on the bookshelf kissing her head and leaving the room shutting the door.

At the same time you were coming out of Indy’s room shutting the door as well.

“ both asleep huh “ he asked

“ yep “ you replied

“How is this how we are spending our Saturday night?” Charles asked

“Yeah but you know you love it “ you laughed 

Charles wrapped his arm around your waist as you both walked down stairs to watch Tv and snuggle on the couch before going to bed yourself.

———————————————————————

Thank you so much for reading I hope you enjoyed feel free to leave any comments. Or leave any requests in my request box. Xx

[mrslankyman]

Cold as Diamonds

Fanfic for my friend, idk what she sees in him 🙄

Montague (fortnite) x reader

Warning: slight smut

This was the task. Make it to Grand Glaciers and steal Montague's diamond necklace. Which sounded easier in Jonseys head.

For you how ever it would prove to be an unsuccessful mission. With an interesting out come.

You made it over the snow. Grimacing at Jonseys idea of an entrance. You weren’t a well known member of the under ground. You mainly did your work behind a mask. Covering your face. Now you were out without it.

The goal was to ask for help. Montague was hostile you knew that. This was a risk. Get caught and you could end up like Peely.. or worse.

So you made your way down the snowy landscape to the door. A few henchman swatted around. Around you questions. You gave them your best act. Crying and stating you needed somewhere to stay. After all the rich people on the map needed to protect the people. Or else they slip and lose power.

They reluctantly agreed and let you inside. The mansion was nice. A large stair case in the center of the first room. Leading up both ways to the second floor.

“Montague will see you soon.” One of the henchman said watching you as you took a seat on one of the many couches. Just looking around at the books on the many shelves around you.

You mentally took note of any escape routes. Or any ways to get back inside if this went well.

It had been a few minutes. Mind you perhaps an hour. Foot steps came behind you. A throat cleared and a French accent hit your ears.

“Hello.” A simple greeting was given. You turned around. Your eyes took in the man before you. Maybe you’d seen his profile on Hopes computer. Maybe you’d see his file I.D photo but damn.. he looked better in person.

The scar on his eye made him look even more intimidating. The large diamond necklace that laid on his neck was what you came here for.

“Hello.” You stood up quickly giving a weak smile. Playing into the act.

“You need a place to stay I hear? Or help. You have come to the right place.” He smiles but it didn’t seem friendly. It seemed sinister. Like he knew something. But what?

“Yes.. please I need a place to stay.” You agreed eagerly and smiled hopefully. He nodded and snapped his fingers. One of the henchman walking over. “I want you to set up the room beside mine for her. Make it cozy.” He ordered giving the guy some kind of look. He nodded in understanding and hurried off up the stairs.

“Come on. Let’s go get you some dinner.” He cooed in your ear. Was he flirting? Or trying to come off as polite.. the best way you’d assume these rich ass holes could.

You followed him down to the dinning room. It was as you suspected. Grand a large. With a huge table. Despite that he sat beside you at one of the side chairs. Offering you any food you’d like.

A cook would come out and server you both. Laying down the dishes. He thanked them and shooed them off. You noticed he wasn’t carrying his gun you’d always see him with in photos. Interesting. Maybe he had his guard down.

“So, where do you come from?” His voice was low and his accent was giving off a sort of.. vibe. His eyes would land on you as you ate. “Pleasant Plaza.. I had no clue how I got over here. First thing I remember was being in a car and then landing in the snow.” Your story wasn’t a lie. Jonsey set it up like that. Making sure any of the cameras here saw a car and you getting thrown out just a little ways off.

“How terrible.” His hand laid on your thigh with a sympathetic look on his face. Was his accent always this seductive? “I’ll take care of you.” He smiled and leaned closer. The diamond around his neck glistening in the light. His eyes looking deep in mine.

“I’ll give you a gift.” He smiled and got up. He walked out somewhere and came back. Holding a rock. He sat down and smiled. “See this?” He looked at the rock then you. A smirk on his face “yeah..?” You answered confused. He covered the rock with his hand and squeezed. Opening his palm, showing a diamond sitting there now. No rock in sight.

“For you, mon amour.” He bit his bottom lip. He was definitely being seductive. Your heart skipped a beat slightly. Your face flushed. What was happening? He was the enemy.. but he was really attractive.

“Come come, I’ll show you your room.” He slid the diamond into your hand. Giving a quick smile before heading down the hall. You followed quickly not wanting to get lost inside the mansion. It be embarrassing telling Jonsey you couldn’t succeed in the mission because you had gotten lost.

He opened a room door and inside made you gasp. You had never seen such a decorated and suffocated room. You turned to look at Montague who had already made his way over to the bed. “I hope you don’t mind, the sheets aren’t the.. most girly.” He chuckled to him self, they were a deep navy blue.

“It doesn’t really matter.” You shrugged and sat down on the edge. This mission could last 1-2 days. If you aren’t back by 3 Jonsey was sure to send in people.

You almost felt bad. You had to take all these people down. It was what was best but.. it be such a waste of a handsome face. He sat down beside you. Letting himself relax a little. “You can stay as long as you like.” His voice was low again. The privacy of the room made your heart beat faster. He was definitely a charmer that was for sure.

“Thank you.” Your voice was soft and lowered to the same tone as his. He leaned in closer. His eyes having this alluring affect on you. “I don’t think I’ve seen someone as beautiful as you in a long time.. I don’t go out much. With all the threats I get.” He slid his hand ontop of yours. A smirk tugged at his lips. “Do you think I’m handsome, ma chérie?” His lips were so close to yours.

You hesitated. Do you just go for it? Perhaps it’ll confuse him. Enough for you to succeed in the mission.

You leaned in and let his lips touch yours. His being cold yet smooth. Your lips were warm and chapped. Contrasting his. He groaned and pulled you closer. You let out a slight moan letting him push you down on the bed. He pulled away and smirked down at you.

You put your hand on his cheek and smiled. His face flushed and he kisses you again. You closed your eyes and let it happen. He grew tired of his coat restraining his arms. Sliding it off and letting it fall to the floor.

His gloved hands gripped your hips. He smirked as you unbuttoned his vest. Taking it off and leaving him in his black dress shirt and pants.

His diamond necklace still hung at his neck. He loomed over you a playful smile on his face. “Didn’t suspect this.” He leaned down and kissed your cheek. “Nor did I.” You answered honestly.

Part of you knew this would help the mission. Another part of you just wanted to keep going out of selfishness. Montague is very.. attractive. It’s not like this wasn’t what you wanted.

Especially how he kissed you and went down to your neck. He didn’t even know your name but his sweet words like darling, love, and sunshine we’re enough for you.

Things escalated and you laid between his legs on the bed. He smirked down at you as you slid onto his lap. Grinding slowly. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Letting him self enjoy this.

A plan popped up in your head. As you grinned into him you leaned closer. He fell into a hazy feeling. Not having full thought.

As soon as he was too far into bliss you leaned even closer. Using one hand to you grabbed his necklace. You had already found an escape route in the room: get the necklace and jump out the window. There wasn’t that far of a drop. You’d make it out and head to the rail road. Hope had secret passages around.

Once your hand went to his necklace his eyes flung open. He grabbed your hand. A smirk on his face. Your eyes widened and your thoughts froze.

“I knew you were up to something.” his voice seethed. You glared at him your demeanor changing quickly. You squeezed his dick he groaned in pain and you ripped off his necklace. You got off the bed and ran to the window.

Montague struggled to get off the bed. Half embarrassed he’d get caught like this. He should’ve known you were one of those under ground agents. He couldn’t lie you did attract him. Even now you still did. But he wouldn’t let you tell the tale of how embarrassing you got his necklace.

His cold hands grabbed your shoulders and spun you around before you could leave. You gripped the necklace.

You struggled against him before he slammed you against the wall. His hand gripping your throat.

“You little bitch. I knew you were up to something.” He shoved you against the wall harder. Your eyes widened. His were icy cold. His brows furrowed and hands soaking the breath out of you. His gloved hands didn’t make it easier for you to get out of his grip.

“Let me go!” You struggled. Dropping his necklace. He grabbed it and laughed. “I’m gonna teach you a lesson.” *he leaned closer his eyes growing even more sinister.

He gripped his necklace hoping the power still worked. He threw you against the wall again. Shards of diamonds bursting through the wall. You stared at them. They were sharp and sparkled in the room light. You soon turned back to him. You could feel your self slowly growing colder. What was he doing?

You looked down. Your skin on your neck around his hands were growing blue. Crystal like diamond. Was he turning you into diamond?

“Montague! Wait- I’ll do anything!” You squirmed. He laughed and let go of you. It was too late. The spot he had touched would always be diamond. A reminder of his touch.

“Oh I have a good plan for you. I think your friend Peely will love to have some company.” He flew his hands down at your feet. Diamonds bursting through the floor. Your feet turning to diamond. You fell off.

A shard of diamond piercing you through the back.

“Tell Jonsey he’s never gonna see his friend again.” Those we’re the last words you heard before the icy cold feeling of the diamond coursed through your body.

[kentocalls]

fushiguro toji | love you a latte ♡ sfw. soft toji w/established relationship. fluff for a WIP. inspied because i wanted to enter @tsukimefuku's JK foodies and goodies.

mornings have become a fast favorite ever since you’ve turned his space into your home. he’s wrapped in a marigold comforter that feels lighter than air and softer than clouds. maybe he should invest in real cotton or bamboo fibers or whatever you were deliberating over. funnily enough, the same heavily fretted comforter is so viciously pulled off him by your sleeping form, he feels his chest fill with warmth, even in your sleep you’re no less eager to glue to his skin.

toji smiles soft as he watches you start to shift, it’s way too earlier for you to be up. it should be toji’s usual hour to head out for his leg day but he’s finding less and less reasons to leave you alone in the mornings. afterall, this is your third attempt to resettle in dreamland.

he’s used to it by now, the nights you don’t sleep dead like a log from grading assignments you’re rolling along his extra large california king sized bed. there’s nothing california sized about it since toji is relegated to his tiny slice as you roam free. exploring the vastness of comfort foam and some spring technolog that’s done wonders for toji’s back. but somehow it’s not giving the relief you need, body still bending and turning and stretching. damn, can he get you into those positions too? or is conscious you somehow less flexible than asleep you? he wonders if you dream of dancing, your arms and toes stretch, extend prettily like a ballerina

except your face scrunches when somehow you know you’ve drifted too far. legs swirl and sway to find him, body swimming into his side; when he’s close you breathe in deep, head bobbing under his arm, then on top and honestly, toji’s can’t keep watch. he’s knows you won’t get comfortable without his help, he pulls a leg up and over his hips, as the other snakes around on its own. and you’re so good for him, even in your sleep; easily laying your weight onto him, head nestled on his chest, the top of your head close enough to his lips.

he gently eases a few stray hairs from his mouth and out of your face and waits for the rhythmic deep breathing that lulls him back to his own rest. does he dream? if he does, they’re ones he has have been led by your soft breathing. maybe he dreams of a boat or a picnic, it’s all forgotten by the time he wakes up.

and he does, try his best, not to jolt awake when the sun is too annoying to ignore. he’s gotten better since sharing a bed with you, he doesn’t startle awake with violence. now it’s more of a quick jerky motion that’s soothed as soon as he touches your skin.

on autopilot he moves his hands but is met with his own skin? his own chest? he reaches out across the mattress to find it cold. like you’ve been missing for hours. despite all the logical reasoning, panic sets in. where are you? why aren’t you next to him? did you fall off again? he moves like a lion, sprawled over the edge of the bed but he’s met with his own discarded clothing.

head assessing the rest of the room and nada. you’re not in here.

he hears his expensive coffee machine whirl and exhales, falling flat onto the mattress. the sheets smell like you and that almond lotion you adore and he takes an extra deep inhale before getting up.

padding out to his walnut and cream kitchen, you’re moving about the giant island and following a video about — latte art?

he leans onto the island, takes in your form while you concentrate, practice how to move your wrists with an empty class and milk container. he takes the plate of french toast and his favorite fruit over to his dinning room table. another one of your purchases that breathes order into his abode. he’s never really eaten at a proper dinning table unless formally meeting a client at thei home but now he can’t seem to eat anywhere else. no more takeouts on the couch or coffee in the bedroom. you like eating together and that’s it for him.

he eats slowly, still watching you hum a song and repeat the latte art video. perhaps you’re a teacher now because you’re such a diligent student. but your eyes meet his and your voice is full of amber honey, “oh! good morning!”

bright, you’re so bright and walk ever so slowly. eyes moving between him and the mug of coffee? latte? that you gently gently gently place in front of him. it looks…like a circle. he tries to offer the best smile he can, “thanks sunshine.”

you look at him expectantly, “it’s a heart.”

he pulls you in for one kiss, then another and another before you push away with a pout. “it looks like a heart right?”

“whatever you say, doll. the circles a heart.” he’ll erase what a circle is if you deem. you wipe at some syrup on his lips and give the nape of his neck a small squeeze. attempt to make your way back to the big kitchen but he wants more of you, hands firm. he’s been robbed of his morning touches. hasn’t touched the skin of your back, hasn’t gripped your thighs and it’s part of his day off routine. he skipped leg day for cuddles and keeping you on his lap—why are you being so torturous and walking away?

you don’t even like lattes.

“we had a barista visit the school, they said i had a real talent for this and i should swing by his cafe. said he’d hire me on the spot now i think he was lying.” toji hums.

“yeah? he say that with dreamy eyes?”

you shoot him a look, he glares back, watches you replay the barista interaction and your hushed “toji, no.” has him laughing big.

“doll, i’d say anything to get you on a date too.”

“am ? that bad?” you’re bringing another mug over to him, moving at a snails pace but stop your face so focused on the mug that toji has to take pity on you. stomps over with his tall self and bends to look at the second attempt at the latte art.

“it’s a…rabbit?”

your shoulders drop and you click your tongue before taking a giant gulp, toji’s hand on your hip, thumb massaging gently. “i’m good for nothing.”

you’re being pouty and dramatic but the barista really had you believing you had a talent for this! “could’ve made more money on the weekend.” you sigh, toji moves the mug into the kitchen island, long strong arms pulling you close.

“you don’t need the money doll, i’ll buy whatever it is.”

“it’s not the money toji.” another sigh and toji doesn’t like it, has a hand under your chin, eyes serious. if its something on this green earth, he’ll bring to your feet. you just have to ask.

“thought i could work part time when you’re working your longer jobs, something to pass the time.” oh.

you get lonely.

toji pauses. he hasn’t felt lonely since…the day he met you. the time before he knew you feels like a fog. he wasn’t really living them, just getting through day by day. “sorry doll.”

you shake your head, pulling him close. it’s silent safe for your breathing and the angry expensive coffee machine whirling. when you do pull away from him he follows, hands lingering on your hip, makes you both waddle like a penguin and you can’t help but laugh.

it’s his favorite sound now, bounces off his spacious walls, fills the apartment with joy.

“teach me how.”

“toji—“

“you’re really good at teaching, so teach me how.” He grabs an empty mug, “and when i do a really good job, you’ll give me a reward.”

☕️

toji leaving the curtain open doesn’t usually happen, he’s super duper considerate of your schedule and knows sleeping in is a rare luxury given you’re a teacher and have to report to school earlier than most people expect. but he left the fucking curtain, blind AND window open. the gang of crows outside better be fighting a crazy battle because they have interrupted your sweet sweet dream. you and toji had robbed a bank and moved to a cold country. it was magical, you had a talking pet tiger.

you convince yourself robbing a bank is not a good idea and that you enjoy teaching rich spoiled kids because you’re being the emotional parental figure they need. you’re doing good in the world! you kick toji’s side of the bed, its so cold and that makes you grumpy. you wanted cuddles.

you’re as fresh as possible when you stumble into the kitchen. you made a many latte arts over the weekend and the despite toji working hard to put that caffeine to use, slept escaped you. your legs are sore, hips carrying the badge of his hands as you press the power button for the machine.

once the sleep is rubbed from your eyes you notice the steamer spout is dirty. you rush to wipe it clean, knowing that stupid part of the machine is the most sensitive and then you realize your mugs are all gone. you weren’t that hyped on caffeine, you cleaned everything diligently. you have a routine, part of it includes setting things up for tomorrow so that your mornings move as easily as possible.

it’s only when you turn around do you notice all seven of your mugs lined up in a row. all of them have latte art that spell out “i love u ♡”

and a huge wad of cash.

[littlefankingdom]

~ Batman (2016)

This is the post y'all never thought would exist: a French criticizing the order of the dishes in a Batman's comic. The moment they wrote those in French, they were calling for it, sorry not sorry.

So, I'm French and the arts de table is a bit important for our culture. Like, we have rules about meals and dishes (the times and the orders). Serve champagne in something else than a flute and I will lose my mind, specific glasses for specific drinks. Specific cutlery for specific meals, but that's more for fancy dinner, like Christmas or New Year's Eve. So, we have a bit of education on the subject.

Anyway, I don’t know if it's an english thing or a rich people are trying to be different and quirky thing, but some stuffs are wrong here. I'm French, so of course I will criticize a billionaire's meal. And of course, Alfred, a british man, isn't free from my criticism. Let's go.

Hors D'œuvres - Good, that makes sense.

Potage (soup but make it fancy) - Depending on the soup and the quantity, it could be served after the entrée, but I don't think it's totally wrong.

Poisson (fish) - WTF, that doesn't make sense. That's a whole fish, that's a full dish, what is this before the starter??? Also, from everything else, this seems to be the main dish? So it doesn't make sense to have it that early. And, where are the trimmings in this plate??? Just a fish??? All alone??? No sauce, no veggies??? That's a sad fish dish.

Entrée (starter) - A starter is to start the meal, so it shouldn't be after the whole ass fish! The art makes it look like a full dish, like it's the main dish, so maybe they fuck up in their translations??? During a fancy dinner, you can have fish and still have a full dish after with meat, so it could be??

Sorbet - WTF, that's like an ice cream but without lactose. That's very cold and sweet. You don't eat that in the middle of the meal??? Is this some usamerican thing I don't know about??? Some stupid rich people thing???

Salades (salads) - Thanks goddesses, it makes sense again. Yeah, salad between the main course and the end of the meal. (These carrots are barely sliced, wtf? Rich people's dishes look stupid)

Fromage (cheese) - YES cheeses after or with the salad! This is beautiful. (The orange ones better not be cheddar, or so help me. They have the money for good cheese)

Desserts - Good. The art is so sad, that does look like the desserts rich people eat, they are so small and sad looking.

Café (Coffee) - YEEEEEES You have not eaten a real meal if coffee isn't offered at the end. The fact it's in the Batcave and not in the dinning room with the guests (who don't know Bruce is Batman) implies Alfred and Bruce didn't offer it to their guests, so shame on them tho. If you are eating at someone's place, they can also offer tea if you prefer (or any distilled alcohols)

So, to finish, here is the order I would consider acceptable: Hors D'œuvres, Potage, Entrée, Poisson, Salades, Fromage, Dessert, Sorbet, Café (Potage and Entrée can be swapped, such as Dessert and Sorbet)

[zablife]

The Last Supper

Requested by @evita-shelby for my 2K celebration An Evening at Arrow House. Warning: This is a dark fic 💀

A/N: Eva Shelby is an OC belonging to @evita-shelby. She is the new Mrs. Shelby in this fic instead of Y/n. Guest list for this party: Darby Sabini, Alfie Solomons, Michael and Gina Gray, Jack Nelson.

“Are you ready for tonight, my love?” Eva asked, straightening Tommy’s bow tie. She studied his face for any sign of hesitation or anxiety. His family had been cruel in recent weeks, unaccepting of his choice to marry a foreign woman they’d never met. Eva could have cared less what they thought, focused only on her new husband and the unique bond they shared. However, she worried about his fragile mental state, the breakdown which caused him to flee the UK less than a year ago still too fresh to be tested by caustic relatives and duplicitous business associates.

Tommy grasped her hands and kissed the inside of her wrists tenderly. “I’ll be fine as long as I have you. I only need you,” he reminded her. Eva inhaled deeply, a sense of love and devotion overwhelming her. In her whole life there had only been one man who stirred these emotions within her. Sometimes the need to protect him frightened her, the deeds she would be capable of without compunction. She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him toward her in a searing kiss. 

“I love you, Tommy,” she murmured against his lips.

“I never doubt that, Evie,” he replied, with a squeeze to her hip. 

———————

Eva had spared no expense for their dinner party, a footman for every guest, the finest wine and carefully planned menu were all part of her plan to create an unforgettable evening. In an attempt to recreate the meal over which Tommy had proposed in Paris, she even hired a French chef. Not everyone knew how to prepare ortolan and it had to be done correctly as it was to be the pinnacle of the meal.

Satisfied that the cocktail hour had passed without incident, Eva sat listening to the ebb and flow of conversation at the dinner table. She busied herself watching those gathered before her, ensuring their comfort like any good host. When the waiters finally placed the next course before Tommy’s carefully chosen family members and associates, gasps could be heard echoing through the room. Some murmured whispers of confusion and others of mild disgust at the cadaverous little golden bird at the center of their plate.

Michael, who was seated next to Tommy, was the first to voice a complaint. “She couldn’t have served a roast?” he spat.

Tommy smirked at his cousin’s reaction to the dish, a gentle shake of his head indicating that wasn’t how his wife operated. “That’s my Evie. She’s quite unique,” he boasted.

Suddenly Eva’s voice rose above the din. She straightened regally in her chair at the end of the table like a queen holding court as she explained her unusual choice. “It’s ortolan, a most sinful delicacy I thought all of you might enjoy. Would you like to know why they're so delicious?” she asked no one in particular. Her lips curled into a devilish smile that left her companions shifting uncomfortably in their seats as she continued. "They capture these tiny creatures and force them into darkness where they gorge themselves on grain and figs. When they’ve doubled in size, they’re drowned in Armagnac and roasted whole.”

Thoroughly unimpressed, Gina scrunched her nose at the sight of her food before rolling her eyes. “I suppose they eat this vile sort of thing in Mexico?”

Eva’s jaw clenched momentarily, eyes flicking up to meet Gina’s as the candlelight reflecting in her irises seemed to mirror the fire inside her. “I told you, it’s French and very exclusive. Try it,” she insisted through clenched teeth.

“It’s true, it's quite rare. People are lucky to taste it even once,” Tommy explained.

“And how is it that Thomas Shelby is fortunate enough to have tasted this delicacy twice in one lifetime? Isn’t that a bit gluttonous?” Darby Sabini asked, his prominent lisp making his last word sound particularly accusatory.

“You would speak of my husband’s greed at his own dinner table?” Eva asked with raised eyebrow, moments away from telling everyone in the room what she knew of his own cupidity and egotism.

A booming laugh came from further down the table as Alfie Solomons exclaimed, “Fuck me, a bloody parrot on a plate! Well, I'll give it a go. How do we eat this, dove?” he asked, gathering his knife and fork with gusto.

“You pick it up by the head like so and eat it feet first,” Eva demonstrated, wincing slightly at the scalding temperature before delicately placing it back on her dish. “When the bones begin to crack ever so delicately in your mouth, the fat will mix with the delicious flavor of the organs on your tongue. There’s nothing like it,” she assured him.

“That’s monstrous!” Gina cried, staring at her host in horror.

Eva grinned wickedly. “Don’t worry, that’s what the napkin is for. To drape over your head to hide your face from God.”

“Can’t say it’s the worst I’ve ever done,” Jack Nelson chuckled as he grasped his napkin in his right hand, ready to accept the gruesome challenge.

“Exactemente,” Eva said with an encouraging nod of her head. “On my count everyone,” she said, manicured hand reaching for her own napkin as she gave a wink to Tommy. She counted down from five as she watched her hesitant guests fumble slightly, a few nervous glances exchanged as heads disappeared quickly under the linen cloths. A rush of quick inhales permeated the air as everyone rushed the piping hot delicacy to their mouths. Eva’s muffled voice could be heard beneath her own napkin as she finished the count. “Two, one,” she said breathlessly, covering the steps of the waiting footmen behind each guest.

For a brief moment the only sound that could be heard all around her was the abrasive crunching of bones, evidence of the devoured birds and the little sin committed. Just another in a long list for these damned souls, she thought.

“Tell me what you eat and I’ll tell you what you are,” Tommy and Eva had been told in Paris when they first consumed the dish. The words echoed in Eva’s mind as she braced for the shots that rang out next, followed by the clatter of china and crystal. Removing her napkin carefully, she surveyed the lifeless bodies of her husband's enemies slumped over the table, blood seeping onto their plates through their makeshift executioner's hoods.

The assassins dressed as footmen folded their aprons as Tommy instructed, "Tell Johnny Dogs to light the fire now."

"And tell the chef to prepare the next course," Eva added before they filed out of the room.

When she was finally alone with her husband, she noted how he too still held the delicate bird in his hand, uneaten.

"Shall we?" he asked, raising his napkin invitingly.

"I don't feel ashamed, do you?" she asked, tossing the linen aside with a smile.

"No," he replied with a decisive shake of his head.

"Then let God watch," she answered, eating her ortolan in one bite.

-----------

Tag List:

@shelbydelrey

@alanadetigy

@severewobblerlightdragon

@lovemissyhoneybee

@theshelbyslimited

@kittycatcait219

@notyour-valentine

@areyenotfondofmelobster

@polishcrazyone

@elenavampire21

@little-diable

@lyarr24

@jomarch-wannabe

@helen06dreamer

@raincoffeeandfandoms

@dearshelby

@cillmequick

@call-sign-shark

@peakyltd

@brummiereader

@runnning-outof-time

@emotionalcadaver

@thegreatdragonfruta

@noforkingclue

@thomashelbyswife

[faegoddessog]

26: Give your fanfic writers a boost and share your favourite MOTA AU

Ok loves, I've decided to try something to stretch myself creatively with this challenge. I'm gonna dribble my drabble and see if I can tie each theme into an actual story that I'll write day by day! We'll see how it goes! Wish me luck!

Here is my ongoing masterlist of this project.

My other works are here if you are interested!

Check out the fun challenge here by @slowsweetlove . Feel free to jump in too!

WARNINGS: More silly post-sex bonding

Shout out to the following MOTA fanfic authors! (find the links embedded in the story below)

@avonne-writes and @middlingmay

“Oh hey, there is pie!!!” you exclaim before they can question what you mean about keeping them. 

Your attempt to disentangle yourself from between them are stifled by Callum holding you tight. 

“Mmm not done yet,” he says Callum. 

"Yeah, but post sex snacks,” Austin says temptingly, rolling onto his back, “what kind did you bring?”

“French Silk, I thought it appropriate with how French we were all about to get,” says Callum coming up with a huge grin. "I even got dairy free, just for you Aus."

"Aww, you remembered!" smiles Austin.

>>>>>> 

At this point, formality is completely unnecessary. You plop the pie and three forks onto the low kitchen island. Your apartment had that open layout with a sort of breakfast bar separating the kitchen and dinning room. You'd just never go stools for it, preferring to always sit at the table.

“Who needs plates,” you dig in hedonistically to the white cream on top.

The boys shrug and do the same. 

“Tell me about these gay characters,” you ask around a mouthful of silky chocolate . 

“No, no there is no evidence of that,” says Austin trying to be respectful to the men’s memory.

“Yeah but dude, they would have worked hard to hide it, times being what they were,” retorts Callum, "Egan litterally said it should have been them two getting married at Gale's wedding."

They go on to tell you a little about the men they portrayed. 

“Well,” you say, “if what I just got to witness is anything like the chemistry you two have on screen, I’m telling you right now, there will be whole fanfiction novels written about you two.”

“No,” says Austin hating the idea of his private life becoming even fictionally public, “it’ll be about Buck and Bucky, not us.” 

“Yeah but us by proxy, Aus,” counters Cal, “you know how creative fans can get.” 

“For sure” you say as if this included you somehow, “They’ll be post-war trauma healing through sex or that you’ll fall in love in high school. Or some totally different alternate universe where you two like, race cars and suck each others dicks.  Dollars to donuts they’ll turn one of you into an animal that the other can plop in their lap and pet. 

“I’d like to be a cat, just for a little while” says Austin thoughtfully.

“MMM, my own little pussy to pet,” jokes Cal. 

“Careful, I’ll scratch you if you’re not nice,” Austin claws his hand in the air. 

credit to @saradika for the graphic!

Always tag me: @purejasmine, @slowsweetlove, @richardslady121, @austinbutlerslovers, @tadpoleteef, @allittakesisoneflight

"I've been tagged by you before Lumiere!": @thisworldisntrealhoney,  @1nho,  @megangovier, @briaandthephantoms, @andro-inherdreamworld @callumsgirl @blombardo  @fefeisastar @hacunamy @nestito702 @denised916 @jayydep @r0m4nitcl0v3r @heyidc03, @secondchild-2, @flander42 @natural-born-rebel-spirit @lecosymood @kathrynzaragoza @bsunshinexo @jayydep @ifyouloveweedletsgosmoke

[luimagines]

Hi! I love your blog like so much it's Mt comfort blog. I don't think this counts as a request but if it does you can delete this. Also if it makes you uncomfortable!

Any ways thing the linked Universe character have said. But their conversations that have happened with me friends or family.

Also modern au were malon and time are parents to the rest kf the chain

~•~•~

The chain acting out a sence from a play for fun

Wind: wild your french! (Makes a very bad impression of a french man)

Wild: wait?! We're are we? *flipping through pages trying to din the right page*

Hyrule: Right here wild! Here *can't say this with out laugh Hysterically flipping the Page for wild*

Wild: ug! *weird gremlin nosies

Malon: so much for reading.

*Wind and hyrule burst out laugh at what malon says*

Wild: wait hold on *laughing well he bangs his hand on the table*

Malon: ah! *malon tries to give wild a hint*

~•~•~

Malon: how about you Practice your tricks on the mat?

Wind: I will!

Malon: you've only used that mat twice! Wolfie used it more then you he could probably do an areal on it!

~•~•~

Legend: can we eat?

Time: no we have to wait for your mother...we're is she?

Wind: last I saw her she was with hyrule and wild

Legend and twilight at the same time: great now their going to be two gremlins

•~•~

Legend to warriors: could you do us a favor and just shut up?

Ravio on the other end of the phone: could you just shut up? *repeates what legend said well laughing.

Legend: like my ears hurt from your voice

Warriors: MOM LEGEND BEING MEAN

Ravio: run Legend!

~•~•~

Warriors and wind screaming santa fe by jeremy jodran: I got nothing if I ain't got santa fe!!!!!!

Time: I hate you malon I have been listening to newises for four hours

Malon: atkeast I'm not singing with them.

~•~•~

Wind died asleep

Four: he is worse then sky...I think he is dead.

Sky glancing over: I'm going to take a nap now.

Perfect! XD

Fantastic, thank you for sending this in. <3

The mental image of all the boys being one big family under the same roof only spells chaos. I love it!

[themickey]

task 4 (?): an early memory of woodrow house

november 1989, mickey is 11 years old and has been at the house for a couple months

side note: this contains godmodding for multiple muses but everything is based on head canons we've discussed, if anyone wants me to change something, please yell at me

mickey's first month in the woodrow house was lonely, there was no denying it. she barely spoke any english after going to a french elementary school and not reaching the age where english is taught more widely. coming to live in america was a huge culture shock for her. mr. woodrow, or richard as he kept reminding her to call him, spoke french but it was real french, not the quebecois mickey was used to. he tried his best but there were still some things he didn't understand when she tried to speak to him.

the most lonely of times were when they were lined up at the large dinning room table, 16 kids and teens and the man who brought them all together. some were quiet and kept to themselves out of comfort, others were loud and laughed together. all mickey could do was watch and wonder. she wondered what they were talking about, wondered who these strange kids were. she only knew their names, some she could not repeat out loud, her tongue betraying her when she tried to say them alone in her room. even if they could not speak, mickey still tried to remember these new people she was living with.

it was different than being in the homes back in canadia. even when she was placed in a foster home with english speakers, everyone also spoke french to some degree, it was common in montreal, but here, there were just 15 other kids who looked at her like she was an alien when she tried to speak.

***

one day, she was trying to work on her school work but was having trouble understanding what she was supposed to do. her teachers were trying to help her learn english by having a mix of french and english on her papers, but she was supposed to answer in english. she was having trouble with the words she was supposed to write.

with her paper in her hand, she walked up to one of the older boys. he always had a stressed look on his face, as if he has a perinate stress line between his eyebrows. she wondered what was making him so stressed but she couldn't form the words to ask him.

"excusez-moi," mickey says, holding the paper out. "est-ce correct?" she asked, pointing to the answer she wrote.

the boy looked at the paper for a second, reading over her words. "uh, yeah, looks correct to me," he says before looking back at what he was working on. "i'm sorry michelle, i have to finish this essay for my georgetown application, but you're doing good, i think."

i'm sorry michelle. she's heard those three words a lot since she's moved in. she's come to understand what they mean. everyone had their own things going on and they didn't have time to try to work through what she was trying to say to her. but she also understood the slight praise he had given her in the end. "merci," she says with a smile before going back to the desk she was using.

***

"michelle, do you want to play with me?" a young girl asked, she looked about her age, maybe a little younger. she had big eyes and a kind smile. she noticed how everyone called her michelle here. it was similar to her name, perhaps the english version, but she didn't like it, it wasn't hers. but this girl looked kinds and mickey didn't have the words to tell her yet.

there was doll in her arms. mickey remembered asking her mom for one of those dolls for christmas the year before she passed. they couldn't afford it but her mom gifted her a similar but much cheaper doll that mickey loved anyway.

"j'aime ta poupée," she says, pointing at the doll in her arms.

the girl smiles at her, as if she understood. "this is samantha!" she says excitedly, showing off her doll. "come on, let's go play!" mickey didn't know what she was saying, the girl took her hand and lead her up the stairs to her room.

a few days went by and she noticed how the kind, young girl tried to talk to her more and more. perhaps she was excited to have someone new to play with that was her own age. they would play with her dolls and it didn't matter than they didn't speak the same langue. the girl would even try to teach her words. pointing at different toys and saying their names for mickey to repeat back to her until she understood.

***

sitting at the long table, surrounded by everyone who were starting to not feel like strangers, mickey looked around at them all. they looked like a family, talking and sharing a meal together. richard watched them all with a pleased smile on his lips. he always seemed so proud of them when they all sat down together.

looking down at her plate, she practiced the words she wanted to say in her head, translating the words she learned from a french to english dictionary richard had given her. "excusez me," she says softly at first, not off to a good start. a few of the others look over at her, probably shocked that she was speaking. clearing her throat softly, she tries again, a little louder this time. "i do not like it when i am called michelle." her accent sounded strange to her own ears, the words were strange to her but she hoped they were coming across to the others. "my name is michèle. perhaps, you can use a sobriquet," shoot, she forgot the word already. "fake name- no-" she cut herself off frustrated that she couldn't think of the words anymore.

richard spoke up at the end of the table. "it's okay michèle, do you mean a nickname?" he encouraged.

she nodded before gathering her thoughts again, the attention of everyone on her. "yes, a nick-name," she said the word slowly. "perhaps, mickey...like the rodent- mouse."

no one spoke for what felt like forever, though it was probably only a couple seconds before someone finally said something.

"okay mickey mouse," one of the girls sitting close to her repeated with a mischievous smirk. she was close to mickey's age and from what she's gathered, she's also pretty new to the house.

there were others mummering their acceptance and a couple apologies before the conversation when back to normal between the others. richard looked at her with that proud look on his face and raised his glass slightly to her.

mickey smiled to herself, happy and proud that she could finally put her feelings into words that the others could understand.

[frenchtables]

Elevate Your Space with Exquisite Sideboards and Cabinets

Are you tired of settling for generic sideboards and cabinets that don't truly reflect your taste and style? Look no further! French Tables presents an exclusive opportunity to own stunning custom-designed sideboards and cabinets that are the epitome of luxury and sophistication.

Craftsmanship and Quality

Our sideboards and cabinets are meticulously crafted and finished using the highest quality materials and finishes. Each piece is a true work of art, handcrafted to perfection by our skilled artisans. We strive for excellence in every detail, ensuring that your furniture not only adds functionality but also becomes a statement piece in your space.

Fully Custom Made

We pride ourselves on creating furniture that is tailored to your unique preferences. With us, you have the freedom to customize dimensions, designs, colours, and finishes according to your taste and requirements. We understand the importance of individuality, and our team of experts will work closely with you to bring your vision to life.

Custom Drawer and Door Configurations

Efficiency meets elegance with our customizable drawer and door configurations. Whether you need extra storage space or specific compartments for your belongings, we can create the perfect solution to suit your needs. Your custom furniture will not only be visually stunning but also highly functional.

About French Tables

As a leading luxury interior design studio in Sydney, we offer a complete range of professional design services alongside our custom-made furniture designs. Under the guidance of Mark Alexander, a highly respected and talented designer, furniture craftsman, and artist, we deliver unparalleled excellence in every project.

Contact Us

Don't settle for the ordinary when you can have the extraordinary! Elevate your space and indulge in the beauty of bespoke furniture. Contact us today to discuss your dream design and let's create a masterpiece together.

Mark Alexander Design Artistry is the go-to destination for anyone looking to enhance their home with sophisticated, custom-made furniture that reflects their personal style and taste.

[juneberrie]

ILLEGALLY LOVED leo valdez

summary: leo forgot your anniversary and it seems like he's disappeared off of the face of the earth...

pairing: leo valdez x fem!reader

warnings/tags: angst to fluff, pretty cabin neutral, light swearing

lizzie’s note — leo my fave glorified arsonist

word count: 0.5k

"hey, piper? have you seen leo?" yn said. she had looked all over camp for her boyfriend and couldn't find him anywhere. she had even tried bunker nine, but when she called his name, nobody had answered.

piper's multicolored eyes glanced up at the girl from where she was laying under the shade of a tree and shook her head. "sorry, babe. haven't seen him since breakfast."

dejected, yn turned to leave. she couldn't believe leo had forgotten their anniversary. they had been dating for an entire year now; he'd never forgotten anything, from her favorite color to her birthday. but he had forgotten their one year. she sighed. maybe he was just busy training or something. yeah, that must be it, she told herself, heading back to her cabin.

a few hours later, piper and jason were eating dinner when leo rushed at them and nearly ran into the table. he looked at them, wide-eyed, and then took notice of the empty seat next to piper.

"where's she?" he demanded, panting. jason shrugged and went back to his mashed potatoes.

"she said she was looking for you earlier," the aphrodite girl offered. "check her cabin?"

"i just did that! i checked her cabin, the forges, the range, everywhere!" he said, exasperated. he shoved jason over a seat and grabbed one of piper's french fries.

"have you checked the field?" jason said. he took a sip of his drink and side-eyed his friend. "i saw her heading that way before din—"

leo got up and smacked jason upside the head. "why didn't you say anything earlier? cabron," he muttered. he ran off to find his girlfriend, leaving jason to holler a "you're welcome" after him.

leo was in the middle of the field when he saw her, sitting under the same tree she had asked piper for her boyfriend's whereabouts.

he ran up to her and sat down. "hi, cariño."

"leo," she said, staring out at camp. the bonfire burned from a distance, changing colors with the mood of the campers.

"did i do something wrong?" he asked, taking her hand. "i know i've been busy lately but—"

"leo, you missed our anniversary!" she exclaimed. she pulled her hand away and stood up, wiping tears away. "you forgot our one year!"

"i didn't forget, amor," leo whispered. he pulled something out of his pocket and stood to join yn. "i was making this." he uncurled his palm and showed her a ring. a beautifully made ring, gold, with a small rose on top. the moonlight caught on the words engraved inside. for my yn, the light of my life.

a soft gasp. "leo..."

"yn, i know demigods don't live forever. nobody does. and i want to spend the rest of my fucking life with you, mi amor. so, technically illegal and unofficial, but will you marry me?"

"gods, yes, leo!! yes, yes yes!!" she cried. she pressed a kiss to his lips and said, with a giddy smile, "i love you so much."

"not as much as i love you," he grinned, slipping the ring onto her finger. the two sat together, looking at the stars. "i guess we're married now?"

"illegally," yn smiled. "but all the same."

[aromantisk-fagforening]

prepositions

so uhm . ..

time prepositions

relative space prepositions

absolute space prepositions

resturant/cities/countries etc

other

I had to exclude some things cause It's already long and I spent ages on it. So there will probably be a part two

This is probably easier to learn through context. tbh. it's so easy to mess up. all my homies hate translating prepositions.

also idk how to differentiate everything so there may be some adverbs or other classes here.

time prepositions

before -> før (don't mix up with for)

after -> etter

now -> now

Jeg var her før deg -> I was here before you / I was here before you were here

while -> mens (Booklanguage) -> medan (newnorwegian)

til -> till / until

frem til -> until

space prepositions

her -> here

foran -> in front of (like french devant I think)

bak -> behind

under -> under

over -> over / above

(i)mellom -> (in) between

inni -> within / inside / in

ved siden av -> next to

ved -> by. f.ex Jeg sitter ved bålet -> I'm sitting by the campfire.

nær -> near. (this is changed depending on object gender: nær / nært)

nærme -> close. f.ex Vi er nærme -> We're close. (to our destination / it / whatever was talked about).

langt unna -> far away

langt imellom -> far between

Det [verb] langt mellom [plural object pronoun / plural noun] -> [noun/pronoun] [verb] far apart. f.ex: Det var langt mellom oss -> We were far apart

Til [direction] for -> to [direction] of. f.ex: Bilen er til venstre for bygningen -> the car is to the left of the building. (can include right/left, south/west/north/east)

[direction] for -> [direction] of. (same as above)

oppå -> on top of / on. f.ex: Mobilen din er oppå boksen -> your phone is on top of the box

[x] [er] langt unna [y] -> [x] [is] far away from [y]. f.ex: Jeg er langt unna deg -> I'm far away from you

absolute space

x [er] på [defined noun] -> on / on top of. f.ex: Mobilen din er på bakken -> your phone is on the ground

på [place]-> in/at/on [place]. f.ex: Jeg er på bussen -> I'm on the bus, Bilen er på parkeringsplassen -> the car is at the parking lot

hjemme -> at home. Jeg er hjemme -> I am at home (like Russian дома I think).

Det er [x] -> There is [x]. f.ex: Det er en bil på parkeringsplassen -> There is a car in the parking lot. (equivalent to french il y a, I think)

resturant/cities/countries etc:

ved bordet -> at the table. Jeg sitter ved bordet og venter på maten -> I sit at the table and wait for the food. (note the verb tense is weird)

på [cafe/resturant/pub]. f.ex Jeg er på Burger King -> I'm at burger king

på [butikk] -> at [store]

i [by] -> in [City]. f.ex Jeg er i Oslo -> I'm in Oslo

i [kommune] -> in commune. F.ex jeg er i Sola kommune -> I'm in the commune Sola

i [land] -> in [country]. Jeg er i Norge -> I'm in Norway -> Eg er i Noreg (newnorwegian)

misc

på -> on. The tv is on -> TVen er på.

se på -> watch / looking at. I'm watching television -> jeg ser på TV, I'm looking at the syn -> jeg ser på sola

med -> with

til -> to. (often)

for -> for/of. (often).

fra -> from. f.ex jeg dro fra Norge i går -> I left Norway yesterday/ I went from Norway yesterday

[skal] til -> [going] to. f.ex Jeg skal til jupiter -> I'm going to Jupiter

nesten -> almost

[diabolus1exmachina]

Renault 8 Gordini 

It all started with the Renault 8. In 1962 Renault presented the one that was to replace its best-seller, the Dauphine. The new car takes up the recipe and even the technical basis. The differences come from the style, with a squarer and more modern line. Above all, under the hood of the small sedan we housed the new "Sierra" engine that appeared on the Caravelle and Florida. The following year, a slightly more upscale version was added: the Major. But it still lacks an even superior version, especially in terms of mechanics. It is also from the Major that the story of the Renault 8 Gordini will start. It is she who will lend him her body and the base of her engine: the Cléon-cast iron with 1108 cm³ of displacement. Then we will affix the treatment undergone by the Dauphine Gordini: a mixture of increased performance and top of the range. 

We will start with this high-end part. Because the Renault 8 Gordini is not a stripped-down bombinette ready to make any sacrifice to gain a few seconds on the clock. That's the pilots who will do it. Thus the interior is well treated: complete instrumentation with tachometer, water temperature, all with round counters which are then the prerogative of the top of the range. There is also interior lighting, a grab handle for the passenger, two-speed heating and a laminated windshield. Add faux leather or black fabric upholstery to the reclining seats and you're a long way from the stripped-down car. The sporty side, we're starting to take the measure of it on the outside. The body is identical to that of the Major. Make no mistake, the four lighthouses won't arrive until later! However, additional lights can be added, pre-wiring is standard. On the other hand, the Renault 8 Gordini is only offered in "bleu de France" (418) with white stripes. And it's sporty! But the real sport, you get it at the technical level. The body is still reinforced, at the side members, the front cross member and a reinforcement bar is added to the engine support. The trains are reinforced at the level of their triangles, the springs are shorter and the rear train receives two shock absorbers. We finish the table with a more direct direction with 3.25 turns lock to lock. And what about the "real" sorcerer's touch then? It is of course on the engine of the Renault 8 Gordini that Amédée Gordini worked. The base is therefore the 1108 of the Major. However, it is the high engine that will be the center of all attention. We start with the hemispherical cylinder head, with a spark plug in the center and a valve on each side. We do not stop there since the Cléon is force-fed by two double-body Solex 40 PHH2, the air box, the air filter and the ignition are specific. Last modification and not the least, we add an oil cooler. Everything transmits the power of 77.5 hp DIN (or 95 SAE if you want) to the rear wheels via a box 4. 

Unveiled at the 1964 Paris Motor Show, the Renault 8 Gordini caused a sensation. It is a top-of-the-range car, but it is above all its performance that makes it stand out. The car exceeds 170 km / h, which no French car, apart from the Facel Vega and their big American V8, can boast. Renault has calculated its move well since the Renault 8 Gordini is also cheaper than a Mini Cooper S or a Cortina Lotus. A real masterstroke that makes it the first "bombinette", the first affordable sports car derived from a large series. The injection is far, but the name GTI not so much!

[amourem]

ㅤㅤㅤ𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆  𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆  𝒊𝒔  𝒏𝒐𝒕  𝒐𝒇𝒕  𝒂  𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕  associated  with  the  hunting  dogs,  nor  was  it  one  that  he  found  himself  leaning  into  when  it  did  arrive.  a  their  core  -  their  lives  revolved  around  one  another,  a  five  man  team  bound  by  a  shared  sense  of  justice  and  pain  both.  every  waking  moment  was  too  often  devoted  to  honing  their  bodies,  their  abilities,  until  nothing  was  left  but  the  hound  and  no  longer  the  thin  veneer  of  man  and  woman  that  had  once  existed  beneath.  if  jouno  was  honest  with  himself,  it  was  easier  that  way  -  but  despite  all  the  surgeries,  despite  their  capabilities,  each  of  them  were  fundamentally  -  at  their  core:  human,  and  needed  breaks.

ㅤㅤㅤfor  jouno  this  was  especially  true.  the  world  around  him  was  amplified  tenfold,  a  constant  cacophony  to  his  senses  that  would  drive  most  mad  and  did  him  too  -  at  points.  perhaps  that  was  why  tecchou  was  his  partner,  steadiness  in  the  wake  of  his  volatile  vulpine  personality,  his  tendency  to  sink  his  teeth  too  deeply  into  anything  that  presented  itself  before  him  like  prey.  that  said  -  the  swordsman  was  vexatious,  to  put  it  kindly.  his  soul  lacked  in  artistry  and  his  infinite  calm,  his  eye  of  the  storm  penchants  -  all  drove  jouno  absolutely  up  the  walls  insane.  the  cherry  on  top  though...  was  tecchou's  undeniably  deplorable  palette.  

ㅤㅤㅤthe  irony  of  his  partner  enjoying  color  matching  foods  while  he,  a  blind  man,  could  not  see  but  smell  them,  was  not  lost  on  him.  which  was  why  they  sat  here,  in  a  private  booth  within  a  corner  of  a  small,  upscale  french  inspired  establishment  -  an  assortment  of  cuisine  spread  before  them.  smell  after  smell  assaults  his  senses,  the  din  of  other  diners  and  their  meals  a  buzz  in  the  back  of  his  mind.  jouno  did  not  like  to  eat  out  often  for  this  reason  alone  -  but  today  was  another  exception,  and  as  he  sat  across  from  tecchou,  tuning  out  everyone  else  but  the  food  and  the  ever  rhythmic  pulse  of  his  partner's  heartbeat.  he  takes  a  bite.  ❝  mm!  ❞  food  is  a  wonderful  experience  for  jouno  when  done  correctly  -  and  this  certainly  was.  the  taste  of  tender  chicken  braised  in  wine  blooms  upon  his  tongue,  his  expression  of  pleasure  a  clear  and  plaintive  thing  in  the  mood-lit  ambiance  of  the  area.  jouno  is  quick  to  take  another  bite,  savoring  the  experience,  before  piling  a  bit  upon  tecchou's  plate  and  based  on  scent  alone,  finding  that  he  still  had  not  taken  even  a  nibble  of  the  various  small  bits  of  top-notch  dishes  he'd  laid  upon  it.  naturally,  jouno  scowls.  

ㅤㅤㅤ❝  tecchou-san.  ❞  there  is  a  notable  tick  to  his  lips,  the  concentrated  effort  to  keep  from  pulling  into  something  akin  to  a  pout.  ❝  do  you  know  how  long  it  took  me  to  get  a  reservation  that  we  weren't  on  a  mission  for?  if  we  were  not  in  public,  i  would  be  force  feeding  you  this  quiche  lorraine.  ❞  a  string  of  low  murmured  curses  in  a  variety  of  languages  leaves  the  gifted's  lips.  ❝  just  try  a  bite  of  something,  anything!  it's  not  poison!  ❞  as  if  to  prove  a  point,  he  shoves  another  portion  into  his  own  mouth,  and  chews  aggressively,  all  while  his  booted  foot  knocks  at  his  partner's  beneath  the  table,  a  silent  command  to  do  as  he  says.  or  else.

@gemkun