#Antique garden ornaments

[twigoftetbury]

Make your outdoor space a haven of timeless beauty with antique garden ornaments. Among these treasures is an Italian marble jardiniere, a true symbol of sophistication and grandness.

[toopeanutcrown]

Discount Garden Statues Ltd

Our mission is to make it as easy as possible for you to find, order and enjoy beautiful quality garden ornaments.We specialise in supplying and delivering quality stoneware and giving amazing service.

[discountgardenstatuesltd]

Official Presentation Discount Garden Statues Ltd

Our mission is to make it as easy as possible for you to find, order and enjoy beautiful quality garden ornaments.We specialise in supplying and delivering quality stoneware and giving amazing service.

4 Mead Court,Egham,Surrey,TW20 8XF

+44 191 300 0145

sales@discountgardenstatues.co.uk

[eastvillagetripster]

Garden Guardian

Larger than life, concrete tortoise garden sculpture, waiting for its next home. Milne antiques, 81 Broadway, Rondout-West Strand Historic District, Kingston NY.

[fortunaestalta]

[kumimuttupaintings]

Statue Fine Art Sculpture, Japanese Home Art Decor, Woman Statue, Icon G..

Find it here:

https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/1429532831/statue-fine-art-sculpture-japanese-art?click_key=698e149c15f4c5115c47279b0514afc60685c938%3A1429532831&click_sum=c594f57c&ref=shop_home_active_1&frs=1&sts=1

[blueiscoool]

Rome’s 'Lost' Imperial Palace 'Domus Tiberiana' Reopens

Until recently a crumbling and off-limits ruin near the famous Colosseum, the Domus Tiberiana palace — built in the first century AD and beloved by Nero — hopes to once again take its place as one of the city’s top tourist attractions.

The ancient palace sits on Palatine Hill — the city’s oldest hill, overhanging Rome —from where imperial dynasties ruled for centuries. But over the years, the site fell into disrepair and in the 1970s, the Domus Tiberiana site was shut due to the structural instability of some of the ruins. The closure left behind what many Romans described as a “black hole” in the capital’s archaeological heart.

Now, after a six-year makeover, the palace has reopened its doors as a “diffuse museum,” with findings and frescoes scattered across the site to provide visitors with an insight into the palace’s ancient grandeur.

And it was grand. The Domus Tiberiana was Rome’s first imperial palace, built by the emperor Tiberius who combined and incorporated the pre-existing noble mansions built on the hill. Occupying over four hectares, the palace featured residences alongside large gardens, places of worship and rooms for the emperor’s Praetorian guard.

As the seat of Rome’s power and politics, Domus Tiberiana held a prime location, high above the Palatine and Roman Forums, offering its occupants a “balcony view of the city.” Over time, the Domus was embellished and enlarged by other emperors including Nero, who was crowned on its steps aged just 16, in 54 AD.

Alfonsina Russo, director of the Colosseum’s archaeological park (in which Domus Tiberiana falls) and lead archaeologist on the renovation, said that ancient antiquities, many exceptionally well-preserved, were unearthed during the project.

The artifacts — bright stuccos, frescoes, amphorae, potteries, looms, terracotta, and divinity statues related to the cults of Isis, Dionysius and Mithras — offer visitors a trip through time, said Russo.

“They make this place — formerly (inhabited) by aristocratic families, then Roman emperors — feel alive again,” she said. “There are seven exhibition rooms full of extraordinary finds, starting with those preceding the original construction of the palace when aristocrats lived in mansions before Tiberius subsumed them into the Domus.”

Among the newly-exposed and frescoes are some of the earliest paintings of lemons (considered an exotic fruit in Ancient Rome, as they hailed from the Far East) and a depiction of a gladiator, proving that the era’s gladiatoral games were appreciated by rich families, explained Russo.

The imperial palace remained in use until the 7th century, when it became the papal residence of John VII. In the mid-16th century, the aristocratic Farnese family — who were powerful local landowners — built the lavish Orti Farnesiani gardens on the site, adorning it with ornaments and sculptures of nymphs, satyrs and fauns.

“This monument speaks of history,” Russo added. “We have restored (Domus Tiberiana) to its past splendor, but more work lies ahead.”

Indeed, painstaking efforts have been made to blend old and new. A series of majestic, reddish-brown vaulted arches that greet visitors having been carefully reconstructed with the same materials as ancient Romans used in the past.

“What makes this revamped Domus unique is the architectural style,” said Russo. “We managed to use original materials to reinforce and strengthen the handmade 15-meter (50ft) tall front arches (which run alongside the palace’s) ancient paving.”

It has certainly caught the public’s attention. Since reopening at the end of September, Domus Tiberiana has attracted some 400,000 visitors, a “huge success,” said Russo, adding that she believes that this incarnation of the Domus Tiberiana offers visitors the most “evocative” visit in generations.

Archaeologist and scholar of ancient Rome Giorgio Franchetti saidN that, in the reopening of the Domus Tiberiana complex, Rome has “recovered a lost jewel.”

“The Palatine Hill has always been the stage of Rome’s power politics,” he said in an interview. “Tiberius likely chose this spot to build the palace as it was where his family residence stood. There aren’t many places like the Domus Tiberiana where you can really breathe the past.”

By Silvia Marchetti.

[jackrussell1907]

The House of the Orchard in Pompeii was a relatively small residence compared to some, but is notable for its exquisite frescoes depicting gardens with trees and ornamental plants; rendered with great precision and artistry throughout the Domus.

Excavated in the early 20th century, the house was first constructed in the 3rd century BC, but was subject to multiple rebuilds in its lifetime before being buried by Vesuvius during its final renovation in antiquity.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

You know how I love offbeat properties and I found this seller's For-Sale-By-Owner ad on Zillow. He started building the home in 1969, in Eureka, California, and it's been under construction for 43 years! It's a French ornamented cathedral Gothic, with all custom ornaments, molds and scaffolding techniques. This mansion is based on Newport, Rhode Island style and spirit from the 19th Century.

This is what it's supposed to look like - The Vision.

And, in 43 yrs., this is what he's done so far. He's asking $4.5M. Now, he has been living in it, so you can live in the finished part. The house is being sold furnished, and what furnishings! Read what he wrote about them below:

"Also for sale here are 1500 sq. ft of the ultimate grade palatial antique Italian marquetry, veneer and solid wood furniture, ranging from console tables and mirrors; 10 different sizes of round antique tables, up to a 12' x 6' museum-piece dining table, various rare cabinets, marquetry, upholstered chairs, couches, china and other cabinets, solid gold (plated) grandfather clock and two huge antique chandeliers, all worth over $300k on the market now and arguably TWICE that!"

This outer door is amazing.

Here's a gargoyle and other ornamentation that still has to go on the house.

But, look at this - it says the exterior designs are ready for installation "when the lawsuit is over." So, the property is involved in a lawsuit, too? (Check the blog - I found the lawsuit papers and posted it.)

There's so much stuff here.

This room is done. It must be a ballroom. I don't know what to make of all this. This looks like the Romanoff's place.

This must be a music room. There's a harpsicord and a harp in here.

Look at these walls. He says the walls are hand done- are these the actual walls?

The walls are hand painted according to the description.

Here's a mantel waiting to be installed.

This is going to be the kitchen.

The gold double sink.

I don't know if this is an old picture of the original inspiration for this home, but it's definitely a representation of the home itself.

This is an amazing fireplace.

Another beautiful fireplace.

He's using the bedroom, but it's not finished.

I'm disappointed in this bathroom. Maybe it's just temporary?

He has a lot of photos of the furniture and these are really primo antiques. So, this would be one of the dining rooms.

This looks like a brand new bedroom set. Looks like a furniture store that used to be near me called Roma Furniture.

The chandelier in the ballroom that he says is included in the sale.

One of the sitting rooms.

Nice inlaid table.

There's a lot of furniture. If you want to see it all, click on the link b/c he's posted 100 photos. But, I'm very confused.

The property measures 6 acres and there are "massive fall color and rose gardens, 20,000 plantings, plus 10,000 daffodil, iris, lily, etc. Bulbs are spread over 6 acres, still there mostly, alive and colorful. Plus, hundreds of valuable landscaping sculptures are included."

[hsjazebel]

THE CALL OF FATE

Word count: 3184

A/n: I'm so sorry to have made you wait so long for the second part of ink hearts, but I've been busy studying and counting the days until the exams are over.

Summary: Y/n returns to the “Ink Hearts” shop for her first tattoo.

main masterlist | ink hearts masterlist

The light of dawn filters through the ivory silk curtains of Y/n's sumptuous family home, delicately caressing the antique furniture and period ornaments that adorn the rooms.

The enveloping scent of jasmine and amber wafts through the air, mixing with the distant sound of bronze bells swinging gently in the internal courtyard.

Yet, despite the beauty and opulence that surrounded the villa, Y/n's soul was filled with a palpable agitation, a sort of restlessness that had haunted her ever since she woke up.

The imposing walls and refined decorations seemed to imprison her soul in a golden cage, isolating her from the outside world and from her own inner essence.

Her thoughts were imprisoned by the memory of her meeting with the tattoo artist in the "Ink Hearts" shop, like fragments of a dream that slowly dissolved when she woke up.

The figure of the tattoo artist, shrouded in an aura of mystery and charm, stood out clearly in Y/n's mind, with his penetrating green eyes that burned like burning embers in the darkness of the night and the hard gaze that seemed to pierce the armor that had built around his heart.

Every detail of the encounter unfolded in her mind like a vivid and haunting painting: the monotonous sound of the tattoo artist's hum, the intense scent of ink and soap, the firm touch of his deft hands as he traced the outlines of the design on his skin.

Yet beyond the surface of skin and ink, there was something deeper and more enigmatic that trapped her in her invisible web.

As Y/n gazed at her reflection in the golden mirror of her bedroom, her towering walls seemed to beckon her with a quiet whisper.

The family mansion, with its sumptuous rooms and ornate corridors, was both a golden refuge and a golden prison, where Y/n felt trapped between her family's expectations and the rebellious desires of her own heart.

The memory of meeting the tattoo artist in the "Ink Hearts" shop tormented her like an obsessive melody that she couldn't get out of her head.

The image of that man with the mysterious gaze and skilled hands had crept into her mind like an obsession, reawakening desires and emotions that she believed were buried deep in her soul.

The morning wind delicately caressed the petals of the flowers in the villa's garden, bringing with it the fresh scent of spring.

As Y/n approached the window, the warmth of the spring sun caressed her face, contrasting with the cold inside that consumed her.

The days following the meeting with the tattoo artist had passed in the shadows of her thoughts, while the image of that mysterious man danced in the recesses of her mind.

The family home, despite its sumptuous beauty, increasingly seemed like a foreign and oppressive place, where social conventions suffocated any glimmer of authenticity.

Yet, despite the weight of her family's expectations, Y/n felt the irresistible pull of the "Ink Hearts" store. It was as if an invisible force was pushing her towards that place of mystery and forbidden promise, a calling that resonated deep within her soul and that she could not ignore.

Every night, while the rest of the world slept, Y/n found herself immersed in her thoughts, tormented by the memory of her encounter with the tattoo artist.

His hands trembled with excitement and fear at the idea of ​​returning to the tattoo shop, but she knew she could no longer resist the pull of the fate that had brought them together.

With a heart full of hope and uncertainty, Y/n mentally prepared herself for returning to the "Ink Hearts" store, knowing that what she would find there would forever change the course of her existence.

——

The "Ink Hearts" shop exuded a mystical and enveloping atmosphere, permeated with the persistent smell of ink and the monotonous melody of tattoo machines.

The walls were decorated with bright artwork and intricate designs, while soft light filtered through the windows, casting shadows on the time-worn wooden floor.

In the heart of the shop, the tattoo artist stood intent on his work, his deft hands dancing expertly across a living palette of skin and ink.

His dark hair fell softly over his broad shoulders, while his focused gaze reflected the determination of an artist immersed in his work.

As Y/n crossed the threshold of the store, a feeling of excitement mixed with fear wrapped around her like a cloak. Her eyes immediately fell on the tattoo artist, attracted by her magnetic presence and aura of mystery.

With her heart pounding in her chest, she slowly approached the counter, unsure of how to start the conversation.

The tattoo artist looked up from his work, his green eyes shining with an intensity that sent shivers down Y/n's spine.

A thin smile danced on his lips as he looked at the young woman in front of him, aware of the disturbance he aroused in her.

“Here again,” the tattoo artist said in a deep, enveloping voice, breaking the silence enveloping the shop. “What brings you to the ink realm this time?”

The tattoo artist's words resonated in the tense air, revealing a world of hidden meanings and unexpressed desires.

As Y/n tried to find the words to respond, she realized that this second meeting would only be the beginning of an even deeper journey into the depths of their souls.

The tattoo artist continued working without looking up again, but the heavy atmosphere between them was palpable. Y/n felt rejected and helpless, but she knew that she had to face her contempt if she wanted to find out more about him.

"Can I ask you something?" Y/n asked, trying to break the ice.

The tattoo artist made a sound of disapproval before replying curtly, "Depends on what."

Y/n felt a lump in her throat, but she persevered. "I'd like to know more about your tattoos," she said, her voice shaking. "And maybe about you."

The tattoo artist looked at her with a mixture of curiosity and irritation, but then shook his head slightly. "It's none of your business," he replied dryly, returning to his work without giving her anything else.

Y/n felt rejected, but she couldn't suppress the fire of her curiosity. She had to keep digging, even though she knew the tattoo artist wouldn't make it any easier.

Y/n was silent for a moment, feeling the weight of the tattoo artist's words like a boulder on her chest.

It was clear that her presence was unwelcome, but she couldn't let her disdain stop her. She had to find out more about him, even if it meant facing her coldness.

The tattoo artist, after a long moment of silence, let out a heavy sigh.

"My tattoos have stories to tell," he said finally, the tone of his voice soft but full of meaning. “But they are stories they are not ready to share.”

Y/n felt a shiver of emotion run through her as the tattoo artist spoke. It was as if she had just opened a door to a world of mystery and fascination, and she couldn't resist entering it.

"It doesn't matter," she said with a light smile, ignoring her evasive response. "I can wait."

The tattoo artist looked at her with a mixture of surprise and admiration, as if he hadn't foreseen her response. Then, with a nod, he returned to his work, letting the tense atmosphere resolve itself into the silence of the shop.

Y/n found herself surrounded by intricate designs and works of art that captured attention with their dark beauty. The vivid colors and finely delineated details seemed to dance under the soft light, creating an aura of magic and promise.

As she explored the store with curious eyes, Y/n felt transported to a world of infinite possibilities. Every drawing, every tattoo told a unique story, a fragment of life captured in the eternity of ink. It was as if each feature had a voice of its own, whispering ancient secrets and hidden desires.

Then, suddenly, the tattoo artist stopped in his work, looking up at her with an intensity that struck her straight to the heart. His green eyes shone with a bright light, revealing a vibrant and magnetic energy that immediately attracted Y/n's attention.

It was as if the tattoo artist possessed a magical power, capable of hypnotizing her with just a glance.

“I have an idea,” the tattoo artist said, his voice soft but filled with infectious determination. “It would be interesting if you were the subject of my next tattoo.”

The tattoo artist's words rang through the air like a promise of adventure and discovery. Y/n felt a wave of conflicting emotions hit her as her heart pounded in her chest.

The tattoo artist approached with a determined step, his penetrating gaze fixed on her with an intensity that made her shiver. "What do you say?" he asked, his voice soft but firm.

Y/n felt her breath catch in her lungs as she struggled to find the right words. It was as if the world had stopped around them, as they found themselves in the center of an atmosphere full of promise and possibility.

With a deep breath, Y/n met the tattoo artist's gaze with determination. "I'd like that," she said in a firm voice, letting her smile reflect her inner excitement.

The tattoo artist didn't smile, but his green eyes sparkled with an aura of promise. "Are you ready for an adventure in the kingdom of ink?" he asked with a challenging tone, as if he were proposing a trip to an enchanted place.

Y/n nodded, feeling a shiver of excitement run over her skin. She was ready to completely abandon herself to the magic of tattooing and the mysterious charm of the tattoo artist.

With an enigmatic smile, the tattoo artist led her towards his studio, where every corner exuded an atmosphere of creativity and mystery.

The air was filled with the scent of incense and fresh ink, while the walls were adorned with sketches of drawings and works of art in progress.

Once inside, the tattoo artist got to work with skill and mastery, preparing his tools with obsessive care.

Y/n felt enveloped by her vibrant energy, as if she had been catapulted into another world, a realm where ink and art reigned supreme.

The tattoo artist smiled at her, her expression neutral but full of promise and possibility. "What kind of tattoo do you have in mind?" he asked in a soft but firm voice, inviting Y/n to express her wishes.

Y/n took a moment to think, looking at the numerous drawings and artworks that decorated the study. "Something symbolic," she said finally, "something that represents my search for freedom and authenticity."

The tattoo artist nodded in understanding. "I understand," he said in a calm tone. “It will be an honor to make your vision a reality.”

With that promise behind them the tattoo artist began his work with a light but firm touch, as if he were painting a masterpiece on a blank canvas.

Y/n closed her eyes and gave herself over completely to the sensation, letting the ink seep into her skin like a wave of heat.

Each needle she plunged seemed to transport her to another dimension, far from the worries of her daily life.

Her sensations mixed together in a whirlwind of emotions: there was pain, sure, but also a strange euphoria that made her forget everything else.

Every little puncture seemed to open a hole in her being, releasing dormant emotions and hidden desires.

As the tattoo artist worked expertly, Y/n felt enveloped in a feeling of calm and serenity.

There was no room for fear or uncertainty, only the pure pleasure of being alive and experiencing that moment to its fullest intensity.

The minutes seemed to pass by like nothing, as her tattoo took shape on her skin like an indelible sign of her determination and courage.

Every stroke, every line of hers seemed to tell her story, etched in the ink like an ode to her life and her experiences.

And so, as the tattoo artist finished his work with a final touch of mastery, Y/n opened her eyes and found herself faced with a living masterpiece, a tattoo that represented everything that was her and everything that she hoped to become.

The tattoo took shape on Y/n's skin like a delicate and refined work of art, a discreet symbol of her desire for freedom and authenticity.

At the center of the design, a simple lotus flower bloomed, its delicate, wispy petals standing gracefully against her skin.

The flower was a symbol of rebirth and growth, a promise of new beginnings and infinite possibilities.

Around the flower, a series of thin lines and light arabesques intertwined like threads of a canvas, creating an atmosphere of lightness and elegance.

Every detail of the drawing seemed to tell a different story, a story of hope and courage.

The tattoo glowed with a subtle light, as if it had captured a sliver of magic in her black ink.

It was a work of art that Y/n would carry with her forever, a tangible symbol of her journey to freedom and authenticity.

After completing the tattoo, Y/n observed herself in the mirror, letting her gaze run along the delicate and refined lines of the design on her skin.

The blooming lotus flower stood out gracefully against her complexion, exuding a sense of calm and serenity that enveloped her like a caress.

The tumultuous emotions she had felt during the tattoo seemed to dissolve, giving way to a feeling of lightness and determination. That little design on her skin was much more than just an ornament; it was a tangible symbol of her desire for freedom and authenticity, a promise she had made to herself to embrace life with courage and resolve.

The tattoo artist approached silently, observing the finished work with an expression of satisfaction. "It's perfect," she said in a calm voice, but there was something in his eyes that suggested a deeper understanding of the words he spoke. “Carry it with you like an amulet, a constant reminder of your inner journey.”

Y/n nodded, feeling lighter and more determined than before.

That tattoo would be her traveling companion, a beacon of hope and strength as she faced the challenges that awaited her along the way.

But before leaving, the tattoo artist took a moment to look at her carefully. “Would you let me ask you your name?” he asked, the tone of her voice compelling, as if he too had been struck by a sudden curiosity. "This is the second time I've seen you here, and yet I don't know what to call you."

Y/n felt a shiver of emotion run over her skin. It was the first time the tattoo artist had shown personal interest in her, and it made her heart beat faster than she did. With a shy smile, she replied, “My name is Y/n.”

The tattoo artist smiled, and her subtle grimace made his green eyes sparkle. “Y/n,” he repeated, as if he was tasting the sound of her name. "Nice to meet you."

With that brief but meaningful interaction, Y/n suddenly felt moved to ask something about him in turn. "And you?" she asked, the tone of her voice uncertain but determined. "What's your name?"

The tattoo artist smiled again, but this time it was different, more intense, as if that gesture hid a story all her own. "My name is Harry," he said finally, letting his name fill the space between them with an aura of sudden intimacy. “It was nice meeting you too, Y/n.”

After exchanging names, a slight silence fell between them, uncertain and expectant. Y/n felt a little embarrassed for neglecting such a basic formality. "Sorry," she said, blushing slightly. "I haven't paid for the tattoo yet. How much do I owe you?"

Harry watched her carefully, his piercing gaze seemed to peer into Y/n's soul. "Don't worry about it yet," he said finally, the tone of her voice calm but still slightly grumpy. "I'd rather you take some time to appreciate the tattoo before you think about money. When you're ready, you can come back to see me."

A shiver ran down Y/n's spine. There was something indefinable in Harry's attitude, a shadow of mystery that intrigued and frightened her at the same time. "Thank you," she said sincerely, surprised by his generosity. “I will definitely appreciate your work even more knowing there is a kind soul behind it.”

Harry nodded, a hint of a thin smile playing on her lips. "I'm glad I could help," he said simply. "And now, go out there and show the world your new tattoo. I'm sure it will turn a lot of heads."

With a bright smile, Y/n turned towards the door, but she couldn't help the uneasy feeling buzzing through her mind.

There was something sinister and unsettling about the atmosphere of the tattoo artist's studio, a dark sense of presence that made her shiver. She had found more than just a tattoo artist; she had found an enigma wrapped in an aura of mystery.

As Y/n walked out of the study, she felt a chill run down her spine, as if someone was watching her in the dark. She turned instinctively, but she saw nothing behind her except the emptiness of empty corridors. However, her sense of uneasiness persisted, enveloping her like an ominous shadow.

Determined not to panic, she forced herself to push those dark thoughts from her mind as she crossed the crowded street. However, she couldn't help but feel a sense of impatience and unease growing within her, as if something dark and sinister was following her from afar.

Having reached the safety of her house, Y/n tried to push those disturbing thoughts out of her mind, focusing her attention on the newly created tattoo. But no matter how hard she tried to ignore those unpleasant sensations in her, she couldn't get rid of the sense of dark presence that had enveloped her in the tattoo artist's office.

As the evening deepened, Y/n found herself facing the darkness with a feeling of apprehension that was entirely new to her. There were mysteries surrounding her, unanswered questions burning inside her. Who really was that enigmatic tattoo artist? And what was she hiding behind her subtle smile and those penetrating eyes?

With a sigh, she Y/n got ready for the night, but she knew that she wouldn't be able to escape her disturbing thoughts of her easily. There was more to the world than her eyes could see, and that sense of mystery was dragging her deeper and deeper into an abyss of dark and dangerous secrets.

Tag list: @ell0ra-br3kk3r

[twigoftetbury]

Embrace the timeless beauty of ornate terracotta planters. Explore our collection of antique garden ornaments at Twig of Tetbury antiques & interiors shop in Tetbury, UK.

[headless-angel-writes]

Summary: Simon Snow is beginning to find his place in the Salisbury family, although he still has a hard time accepting his role. During a visit to his grandmother, Lady Ruth, he receives an unexpected gift

Carry On Countdown 2024: Something Old

Words: 1544

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60854995

@carryon-countdown

Simon

As I ride the Underground, feeling warm despite it being November, my thoughts drift to how much my life has changed.

Sunday lunches at Lady Ruth's—my grandmother, though I still struggle to call her that—have become a routine. Every Sunday, Baz and I visit her and Jamie for lunch. A few hours later, we have tea together, and she never lets us leave without sending us home with a week’s worth of meals.

"Honestly, it’s not necessary, ma’am. Simon and I manage just fine," Baz tries to protest.

"You’re both far too skinny," she replies, piling food into numerous containers. "Besides, it’s better for you to eat my homemade meals than live on takeaway and instant noodles."

Although Baz and I have tried to refuse, Lady Ruth always gets her way. Jamie just watches us with a resigned expression, as though he’s already lost the same battle long ago. I think I’m gaining a bit of weight. Even Baz has put on some, and the sharpness of his hipbones has softened. He looks better than ever. Meanwhile, I’ve just developed more weight around my waist and a larger chest. (Baz loves it, though—I swear he can’t keep his hands off me. I only pretend to mind, just a little.)

I suppose it’s a good change. I used to starve every summer… and then eat myself sick on the first day at Watford.

The point is, Lady Ruth cares about us. A lot. Obviously, she cares about me the most—I’m her first grandchild. So, the fact that she occasionally wants to see just me isn’t so strange. And yet, I can’t help but feel nervous. This doesn’t feel like any other family meal.

Why does she want to see me alone? Is it because of the time I accidentally broke a couple of ornaments with my wings? Jamie laughed and said he’d broken them as a child once, too, by throwing a ball. Lady Ruth just said, more amused than annoyed:

"I suppose the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree that is your uncle."

Then she fixed everything with a simple spell.

Maybe she doesn’t want to see me anymore and is just too elegant to tell me by text. Should I have brought flowers? Baz always insists on not showing up empty-handed. My wings, folded neatly under my coat like origami, twitch slightly. I start biting my nails, an unpleasant habit but better than when I used to calm my anxiety with my sword. I’m so distracted that I almost miss my stop.

Standing in front of the imposing Salisbury mansion—with its elegance, pristine gardens, and smoke rising from the chimney—I think again that I should have brought flowers.

It’s too late for that now. Not as though I can conjure them magically… not anymore, at least. Once, the mere thought of it might have caused a cascade of flowers to bloom in my hands and fall in colourful showers onto the manicured grass.

I shake off any nostalgia for my lost magic before taking a deep breath and knocking on the door. Whatever Lady Ruth wants to tell me, I’ll face it as the Salisbury I was always meant to be.

Before I can knock, the door swings open, and Lady Ruth is there. It’s like she’s been waiting, peeking through the peephole. Today, she’s wearing a Halloween jumper and yoga trousers. I’m relieved it’s not a formal lunch.

"Simon, darling, right on time," she says with a smile, guiding me inside. The air is filled with the scent of cooking meat, something sweet in the oven, and burning wood. I feel a little calmer.

"Hello, Lady... uh, Grandmother." I still struggle with it, but she doesn’t seem to notice—or pretends not to.

She leads me to the sitting room, and I follow in silence. Inside, it’s warm and inviting, like a hug. I like this room: though it’s elegant and full of valuable antiques, it feels like a lived-in home. Not like Baz’s house, which felt more like a museum. Lady Ruth picks her usual armchair, where a blanket and a book rest. She gestures for me to sit.

Before doing so, I remove my coat and let my wings stretch out. I’m glad to be part of a magical family that doesn’t judge me for my extra dragon parts.

"Good to see you didn’t knock anything over this time," she says, like I’m a child learning to behave.

I smile sheepishly, my wings twitching slightly.

"I can’t promise everything will stay intact for long."

She laughs lightly, and I smile back.

"You’re lucky to be as charming as your mother and that my restoration spells are excellent, young man."

She pauses, as she always does when she mentions my mother (another word I struggle to say).

The house smells different—not the usual scent of her meals. I can’t quite place it, but it’s not what I’m used to. Maybe it’s some new spices. My stomach growls loudly.

"The food’s almost ready, but it needs a bit longer in the oven," she says.

I nod in response. We sit in silence, the kind that should feel comfortable but, for some reason, feels odd. I rest my hands in my lap, unsure what to do with them, and try to shrink myself. It’s still strange to think of this as my home, too. I feel like I should say something, but she speaks first.

"Simon," she begins, breaking the silence. "There’s something I’d like to give you."

Lady Ruth retrieves a small box from a bookshelf and holds it out to me. My heart races. What is that? Why is she giving it to me?

"For me?" I ask, trying to sound neutral, but my voice betrays my curiosity.

Her smile holds a world of secrets.

"Open it, darling."

I do. The box is lighter than I imagined, with an “R” engraved in the wood and a chipped corner. Inside is a wedding ring—a simple yet elegant gold band with a small crest engraved on it. The Salisbury family crest. My heart leaps into my throat.

"This ring…" I can’t say it aloud. Luckily, Lady Ruth finishes the sentence for me.

"It was your grandfather’s wedding ring, yes. I still have mine tucked away in my jewellery box," she adds. "Sometimes, it even gets me a free drink at the club, you know."

I want to laugh and cry simultaneously—at the image of my grandmother charming men and at the significance of holding this piece of family history.

"It’s beautiful," I say, sincerely.

It feels too precious to remove from the box, so I simply stare at it, overwhelmed by its physical and emotional weight. She sits beside me on the sofa, placing her hand over mine, which rests on the box.

"When Andrew died," she begins, her voice tinged with sadness, "I didn’t want them to bury him with it. I thought that wearing it around my neck would let me keep a part of him with me. I even planned to be buried with both rings in my hands."

Tears sting my eyes, and hers glisten, too. Her hand tightens around mine.

"You wanted…" I trail off.

"I thought," she continues, "that now I have you, this ring would look better on a pale, long finger than in the withered hands of an old woman. A finger like Baz’s, for instance."

My cheeks burn so hot the tears on my face practically evaporate. A ring on Baz’s finger? I’ve thought about it before—I know I want to spend the rest of my life (all my lives) with him—but the idea of marriage is terrifying.

"No, I can’t take something like this. It’s too much for someone like me. Besides, I don’t think I’m ready to marry. And neither is Baz."

Her cheeks are damp, but her eyes are smiling.

"Yes, you can. You’re part of this family, Simon Snow." She lifts the ring from the box and holds it on her palm. "And this is just a ring. It only carries the meaning you choose to give it."

"Even so, wouldn’t it be better if Jamie had it?" I try to argue.

"He thinks it’s a good idea to give it to you, too. It was a joint decision. Look, I’m not pressuring you to marry, if that’s what you’re afraid of. But if you ask me, I’d very much like to attend a wedding soon."

My cheeks feel warm again, and I’m sure they’re as red as Baz says—like apples.

"You and your wedding ideas…"

"When the right time comes, it will be a good symbol for you."

Finally, I take the ring from her hand and hold it in mine. If Baz and I do marry someday, at least we’ve got the “something old” part covered.

...............................................................................................................................

Hello!

And we start with this year's Carry On Countdown. I'm not going to do it every day, but I'm going to try to do some one shots. In this one I thought it was a good idea to use the “something old” in something related to weddings <3

I started writing this with a baby strapped against me,, taking his bottle.  he he.

Thank you very much for reading!

Bye!

[amuseoffyre]

A rough layout of Whickber Street

Most of this is sketched down from memory from the @primevideouk​ tour, but I’ve been able to cross-check some of the positions with the show :)

The hat shop is Bilton and Scaggs and the tailors’ shop is Battye and Palms, little tributes to the book and Discworld. The magic shop is Goldstone’s (I think) and as well as all the cool stuff they had inside, it had a poster of Fell the Marvellous in the window. 

I was too busy flailing to notice the name of the antique shop and didn’t spot the name of the fabric shop because it had shiny ornamental jewellery in the window and I was distracted. The Chinese herbalist’s name was in Chinese and there were adverts for acupuncture and massage in the windows.

Francesco’s is an Italian restaurant, Margeurite’s is French. Arnold Music is obviously the music shop. Mrs Sandwich lives/works above the Dirty Donkey. The back courtyard of the dirty donkey had stacks of sacks and crates against the wall. (As well as a large telly and beanbags for the screening)

The garden wall on the right was topped with trees and the backdrop for it, which added more layers to the trees, was hand-painted instead of blue-screened in. The fruit and veg carts had clearly not felt the impact of Br3xit based on their prices 😅

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Une bibliothèque, c'est le carrefour de tous les rêves de l'humanité.

- Julien Green

In the heart of Paris lies a treasure trove of precious books and cultural artefacts known as the Bibliothèque Nationale de France - Richelieu. The royal library complex, once reserved for scholars and researchers, is now accessible to the general public who can visit its magnificently restored reading rooms, garden and brand new museum

The site is a stone’s throw from the Palais Royal and the Comédie-Française theatre, all once belonging to Cardinal Richelieu (1585-1642), close advisor and foreign secretary to King Louis XIII. A patron of the arts, Richelieu was also the founder of the Académie Française for the protection of the French language. The Bibliothèque Nationale de France (BnF) has over 40 million documents across four sites, the main ones being BnF François-Mitterrand on the left bank of the Seine for printed works and audiovisual documents, and the Richelieu branch for “specialist” collections - manuscripts, drawings, antiques and precious items.

The stunning centre piece of the Bibliothèque Nationale de France - Richelieu is the Oval Room which is the majestic reading room. Its construction started in 1897 with architect Jean-Louis Pascal and it was inaugurated only in 1936. Nicknamed the ‘Oval Heaven’, it boasts impressive volumes: 44 metres in length, 33 metres in width and 18 metres in height. It features enchanting mosaics, gilding, ornamental paintings, painted decor and unique pieces of furniture.

Among its priceless acquisitions include, the Great Cameo of France, Dagobert’s throne and Charlemagne’s chess set. Manuscripts such as the ‘Psalter of Saint Louis’, Victor Hugo’s ‘Notre Dame de Paris’, and a score by Mozart can be seen alongside prints by artists from Rembrandt to Picasso. Perhaps the star acquisition amongst its many priceless holdings include one of the first copies of the Gutenberg Bible.

From September 2022 the Oval Room was no longer restricted to accredited academics and scholars but to general members of the public too.

I recently went there to do some scholarly research for a side project and I was enthralled by the heavenly spectacle of the Oval Room.

[comtessezouboff]

La Galerie des Cotelles Set

A retexture by La Comtesse Zouboff — Original Mesh by @thejim07

At the very moment when Louis XIV wrote the first version of 《Manière de montre les jardins de Versailles》, he expressed his desire to recreate his words as images.

In 1688, he comissioned an outstanding set of 24 paintings describing the different groves in gardens with mythological allegories to be placed in the galerie at the Trianon de Marbre.

The ornamentation of the gallery linking Trianon to Trianon-sous-bois was entrusted to three painters between 1688 and 1689: Jean Cotelle painted twenty-one of the twenty-four canvases hung in this room, Etienne Allegrain two others, and Jean-Baptiste Martin.

This gallery, decorated around 1690, bears the name of the author of most of the paintings which appear there and which represent views of the groves of Versailles and Trianon, embellished with mythological figures.

This set remained in place until the First Empire. Napoleon I considered replacing them with paintings to his glory. The works will return to their original location in 1913 after being restored to 《La Colection Royale》 by Louis Philippe and can be seen there to this day.

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This set contains 24 paintings with the original frame swatches, fully recolourable. They are:

View of the Amphitheater of the Grove of the Théâtre d'Eau with the Toilette of Psyche.

View of the Bassin du Dragon and the Gutter of the Neptune Fountain with Apollo Slaying the Serpent Python.

View of the Colonnade Grove with Apollo Served by the Nymphs.

View of the Entrance of the Labyrinth Grove with Nymphs and Cupid Catching Birds in their Nets.

View of the Fountain of the Fifty-Two Jets, or Plat-Fond at the Trianon with Mars and Venus.

View of the Grove of l'Encelade with Jupiter Slaying Enceladus the Giant with the Feast of Lycaon.

View of the Grove of L'Étoile or la Montagne d'Eau with Diana Saving Arethusa from Alpheus.

View of the Grove of the Arc de Triomphe Towards the Fountain of La France Triomphante with Nymphs Chaining Captives.

View of the Grove of the Arc de Triomphe with Venus and Adonis on a Chariot Driven by Cupid.

View of the Grove of the Baths of Apollo or des Dômes with Diana and her Nymphs.

View of the Grove of the Labyrinth Showing the Fountain of the Fight of the Animals and the Two Fountains of the Fox and the Crane with Diana and the Nymphs.

View of the Grove of the Salle de Bal with Armide Crowning Renaud.

View of the Grove of the Théâtre d'Eau with the Toilette of Psyche.

View of the Marais or Chêne-Vert Grove with Nymphs Playing Various Games.

View of the Neptune Fountain, the Bassin du Dragon and the Allée d'Eau with the Judgement of Paris.

View of the Orangerie and the Palace from the Pièce d'Eau des Suisses with the Abduction of Helen of Troy.

View of the Orangerie of Versailles and the Pièce d'Eau des Suisses with Vertumnus and Pomona.

View of the Parterre d'Eau with the Apotheosis of Venus.

View of the Parterres of the Trianon de Marbre with Zephyrus and Sleeping Flora

View of the Trois-Fontaines Grove with Garden Loves.

View of the Trois-Fontaines Grove with Venus and the Nymphs.

View of the Feast or Council Room Grove in the Palace of Versailles.

View of the Grove of the Miroir d'Eau Fountain and the Île-Royale in the Palace of Versailles.

Perspective view of the Grove of the Galerie des Antiques.

Found under decor > paintings for 1.850§

(you can just search for "Cotelle" using the catalog search mod to find the entire ser much easier!)

Retextured from:"The virgin of the Rosary" found here

Disclaimer!

All of the paintings shown here aren't as blurry as in the screenshots and its colors are more vibrant in-game!

Cc shown here:

Walls, door and bench by @thejim07

Floor by @martassimsbookcc

Windows by @missyzim

Chandelier and garland by @hydrangeachainsaw

Pediment by Mutske (TSR)

Consoles by ShinoKCR (TSR)

Drive

(Sims3Pack | Package)

(Useful tags below)

@joojconverts @ts3history @ts3historicalccfinds @deniisu-sims @katsujiiccfinds @gifappels-stuff

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