#linden table lamp

[bloomingdalesaus]

Bloomingdales Lighting & Decorator Accessories Pty Ltd was founded in 1996 in Sydney. Our aim was to supply the decorator market with quality lighting and select items of decorative furniture. The company has grown rapidly with showrooms in Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane, Adelaide, Perth and Auckland. On display is a wide range of our product including furniture, chandeliers and pendants, table and floor lamps in classical, deco, modern and contemporary design. https://www.bloomingdales.com.au/

[sileomaolduin]

Breakthrough

[An older piece of writing that I'm still proud of. Prescript warning that you should check the tags, this one's a little heavy.]

LEDENDE MENIG ENSKLASSE SVANA EIRSDOTTIR NILFHEIMR HJEIMSVARNET - BATTALION 2 NORD “HRAFNHAMAR” SPECIAL DIVISION “STORMTROOPER”

You needed three hands to put it on. The heavy, lacquered plate. It had its own harness, separate from the weapons harness that bore their arms and ammunition, that strapped tight to the body with heavy buckles. Though it made the chest feel tight and the limbs vaguely numb, there was something oddly comforting to it, knowing that even against the might of a battle rifle those plates would hold strong, and ward all horror. And so they girded themselves for battle, together. Where one could not reach another would place her plates for her. And so would she in turn for her. They grew proud of their stormtrooper’s plate, etching it with runes and painting it just as their mothers had their shields in times gone past. 

They were still strapping their plates when the cooks came with their rations. And this brought great pause to the assembled few. Triple mead rations, enough for each of them to have a proper mug-full. And leviathan meat. Fresh, fatty, and dripping, on good, soft bread still yet hot from baking and toasted upon the fire. With berries, and cream, and rich spiced porridge for dessert. Any one item was cause enough for concern. The extra mead rations, the leviathan meat, the dessert; such lavish additional rations were not given without reason. And none need speak to know what it was. Even just the look on the cook’s face; a mix of jealousy, horror, and sorrow, was enough to tell it all as though delivered by skald’s song. They were being sent up. Over the barriers, and unto the breach. 

The night was solemn. They had been pulled from their watch, held back in reserve. Allowed to spend their time together. Or, so it had begun, solemn. As seven sisters sat around their table, half in their armour and half not, quietly feasting upon leviathan meat; so succulent and rich that it felt like the whole body needed gasp for air after but a bite. A rare treat, even for those in Rathstrend who could sup upon plenty; for the fell of a leviathan happened perhaps once a year, and its flesh quickly turned rancid. To bring it this far, from Nilfheim’s ports, to the front, was a tremendous effort unto itself. But eventually, song broke. As one of the sisters finished her meal, and drank into her iron cup, she began to lift her voice in song from home, singing of how the linden grew green and mead flowed free, and a maiden with flowers in her hair danced upon a table during the spring’s faire. And one by one they joined, until arm in arm they sang together as night fell by candlelight. Until they drifted out of the huddle of bunker and trench and sat upon the barricade by the great artillery guns, calling their song across the star-filled sky, laughing together with tears in their eyes. Weaving crowns of the flowers that grew up ‘round the soil tilled ruddy by the recoil of rifles, to lay around each other’s horns, and paint the fur of cheeks and brows with the ash and soot that gathered ‘round the spent brass and barrels. 

But all things must end.

Their song, and the song of those that manned the trenches and walls fell silent as the siren sounded. The night had grown dark, and they were beginning to light their great lamps, to cast the battlefield before them in a deep umber hue that obliterated from the blasted land what colour it yet held; a muddled heap of soil tilled by artillery, by the twisted wreckage of bodies and steel. Along the lines rifles were loaded and machine guns made ready. The crews returned to their artillery guns, and officers emerged from their messes and bunks. The seven sisters turned to theirs, helping each other with the last of their plates, with the heavy masks and helmets that would shield their face. And shared, for what might be the last time, a squeeze of the hand. A fond embrace. The grasp of forehead to forehead and the solemn whisper of a quiet promise, before they too assembled along the lines.

Quiet they stood ready. Waiting for the mark. As the song of the artillery began to boom like thunder behind them and tear the heavens open with flare and frag. As tracer fire began to light the earth in red. But silent they stood. Waiting. Until the whistle came, and the shells crashed down to earth hundreds of yards out into the breach, and filled the air with smoke. Forward they sprang, mantling the barriers with their stout half-rifles in hand, planted in tight against the steel of their shoulders to march out across the land. The drum of their heavy, cramponed boots upon the soil joined the beat of the artillery and the pounding of their hearts; and the song of the great war drums behind their lines. Step by step, as shrapnel and soil rained down around them with the snow, like hail upon their armour. But forward still in lock-step they marched, as tracers flew past them from behind. 

Svana rocked upon her feet as she entered the smoke, and a shot went ringing from her shoulder though it were a rock dashed again a bell. She twisted, and pressed forward regardless, not even glancing aside. Mead and berry were still sweet upon her tongue, but her nose stung with powder, ash, and blood, her ears deaf to all but thunder and song. Through her mask she sang, to keep her grip steady and strong upon her gun. With her sisters she sang as they strode the field. Until one fell quiet. Even over it all she heard its keening whistle. But she saw nothing but the trail it left through the smoke. She did not even see blood, until her sister staggered, and fell to her knee. The whistle came again, and back her head jerked. Svana did not see what came next, her blood running cold, and her head failing to turn. Upon the stock of her half-rifle she felt her knuckles turn white and her fingertips go numb, her teeth shaking in her jaw as she marched forth through the smoke.

But one by one they fell. Only by the absence of their song did she know, the whistle of those fell darts as they tore through the smoke. She squeezed, and let her weapon roar its response blind into the fog. The drum clattered and rung as casings showered across her, and as the smoke began to unravel around her she dropped a hand from it, tearing a grenade from her harness and throwing it forth. Pausing only then as her weapon fell silent. She fell to her knee in the mud, tearing back the bolt and tossing aside the drum, uncaring for how many rounds yet gleamed in its maw, and from her harness she pulled free a new box, slamming it home. And, as the shockwave of her grenade rocked her, she sprung forwards at full bearing with a roar, horns pointed forwards. Up, and over she came, her momentum carrying her over the berm, and pulling her aim down into the trench beyond it. When no shape came to her vision, she let it carry her forward, falling to the concrete below with a heavy thud and a clatter of plate. 

Left, up came her half-rifle; to nothing but an empty hall of concrete, open to the night sky. Right, up came her half rifle; answered by naught but fighting positions devoid of their fighters. Not even a casing upon the ground, or blood upon the wall.

The sound of the guns fell silent as she rose to her feet, leaving only her own heart pounding in her ears. There she stood, and waited. But none followed her. Not her sisters nor her fellows came upon the empty scar. Not voice, nor footfall, nor rifle’s bark.

Alone, she stood, beneath the stars. And unto her armour let her tears fall like rain.

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[szif]

Old tame nights, you too honed into memories! With poets and young wives wreathed gleaming table, where do you slide on the pasts' mud? where is that night, when they still drank vigorously grey-friend the quick friends from the nice-eyed slim glasses?

Poem lines swam around the lamp's light, bright, green modifiers rocked on metrum's foamy comb and the dead lived and the captives were at home, and the missing dear friends, wrote poems the long dead, on their hearts Ukraine's, Hispania's, Flandria's land.

There were some, who with their teeth gritted ran in the fire, and fought, all because, against it they could do nothing, and while alarmed slept around them the century under its filthy shelter, their rooms were on their minds, which were island and cave for them in this society.

There were, where in stamped cattle wagons they travelled, frozen and weaponless stood in the minefields, and some, where they went voluntarily, weapon in hand, in silence, since they knew, that fight, is their matter down there, - and now freedom's angel protects their big dreams in the night.

And there were where… whatever. Where did the wise winings go? flew the fast invitations, multiplied the poem fragments, and multiplied the wrinkles around the pretty-smiled young women's mouths and under their eyes: became heavier the fae-footed girls during the war's quiet years.

Where is that night, that bar, under the lindens that table? and those who still live, where are the war stompeds? their voices my heart hears, their grip my hand guards their opus I quote and their torso's proportions blossom out, and I measure (mute captive), - on woe-filled Serbia's peaks.

Where is that night? that night will not come back anymore, because what was, now death gives it new perspective now. - They sit at the table, hide in the women's smiles and then drink into our glasses, who, unburied, in distant forests and foreign fields sleep.

Lager Heidenau, above Žagubica in the mountains,

1944. August. 17

(From Radnóti Miklós [Last name, First name], "Á la recherche", one of his last poems, which he wrote inside "Lager Heidenau", a concentration camp in Žagubica, Serbia. The title refers to the French novel "À la recherche du temps perdu", written by Marcel Proust.)

[lilleeboi]

16, 23, 26 for the writer asks! 🌻

Crunchy!! Thank you for the ask 🌻

16. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever used as a bookmark?

I think the weirdest thing would probably be a ruler or a dental dam??? But I don't use impromptu bookmarks very often unless I need to reference a lot of specific pages quickly and have run out. I also doggy-ear liberally.

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

The space I usually write in has a lot of artwork and educational posters on the walls, two adjoined bookshelves arranged alphabetically by author surname (except for the tallest shelf on the bottom because it's just textbooks and reports). There are small plants and a now-stagnated mushroom colony, the sensory toy/tool box, multiple hand sanitizers, more used cups than is probably advisable, a paper recycling bin, and stationery. The ceiling/wall is light blue and slanted. The floor is padded with foam mats. There is a large wooden table, an office chair, and a 5-bulb rainbow lamp, but only the blue bulb works. There is a window, right outside of which is a linden tree (home to many bird conferences). A lot of sound comes up from outside. It's a very colourful, comfortable room. To me, it smells a bit like wet trees, but I think it also smells kind of minty/herbal because of the cleaning supplies I use.

26. How do you get into your character’s head? How do you get out? Do you ever regret going in there in the first place?

This question is difficult... I don't think I ever regret going there, and I don't find it difficult to get out. I don't really think of it as getting into anyone's head, I more think of it as building an experience for the reader, letting the reader into the character's fictional shoes. I like to do a lot of research into my character's interests, and I catalogue what behaviours I want them to have, what their life philosophy is and why, and try to let that influence the way I write. I guess studying for my degree probably helps me do this (or made me do it this way??), but I wouldn't say I'm great at it. I'm still improving 💪

[virtualgeometry]

Linden Table Lamp by Studio DUNN

[tiliamericana]

Muay Thai: 1.12

It didn’t look right. Nairi frowned and tugged on the hem of the jacket to try and change how it hung on her. Maybe she did need to start extending her wardrobe—the borrowed jacket was tight across her shoulders, and the cuffs didn’t quite reach the end of her shirt sleeves. “Are you sure this doesn’t look weird?”

“It’s fine, stop fussing,” said Agatha, reaching out and tugging at the shirt showing below the jacket cuff. “If you’re actually worried then tuck your sleeves up so they don’t show—”

Nairi batted her hand away without thinking, shaking her head. “No, it’s fine.”

“They’re just tattoos,” said Agatha, exasperated. “No one’s going to care.”

“I care,” said Nairi with a frown, and she tugged the sleeve down again.

“Perhaps you should have thought of that before getting them in such a conspicuous spot,” said Agatha with a touch of acid. She turned, ignoring Nairi’s stone faced look, and collected her phone and wallet. “Let’s go, then. I’m already getting texts from Linden.”

She kept her hand not gripping Linden’s present tucked in her pocket as they walked to Joe’s side-by-side, trying to unclench it from the fist it’d balled into without her permission. They didn’t talk much, shoulders hunched up against the January chill. It got colder here than Nairi was used to.

By comparison, the inside of Joe’s was an oven. The heat lamps were going, casting a warm light over the bar and its noisy occupants. Joe himself was up the far end, helping Mason and Flo with a very tall cupcake, lighter in hand. Linden appeared to have taken over the two booths at the back of the room, and she waved when she saw them, visibly brightening.

“You’re here!” she called with a distinctly tipsy exuberance, and she darted across to meet them, ignoring a reprimanding shout from Joe as she passed him. She caught both of them in the same hug, pushing her head between them and wrapping her arms around their far shoulders.

Nairi stiffened, but forced herself to relax, awkwardly patting Linden’s upper arm. “We are, yeah. Happy birthday.”

“Happy birthday, Lindy,” said Agatha, hooking her chin over Linden’s shoulder and hugging her back tightly.

“Thank you,” said Linden warmly, rocking back on her heels and beaming at them. She grabbed at their hands, tugging the two of them towards the back of the bar. “Come on, come join us!”

Nicholas was crammed into the corner of the booth, seemingly trapped there by a man Nairi didn’t recognise. He looked distinctly uncomfortable, nodding along with what the other man was saying, which apparently didn’t require much in the way of response. Or breaks.

He was speaking in a drawling tone, the words flowing, almost slurring into each other. “…I mean, Orwell wasn’t everything—Eliot himself actually rejected Animal Farm initially, did you know that?”

“Right,” said Nicholas slowly, looking extremely polite as he took a small sip from his half-pint of beer. His eyes flicked up and found Nairi’s, brow creasing with relief. “Nairi, Agatha, thank goodness—I mean, I’m glad you could join us. Have you met Simon?”

Simon turned to look at them, his head bobbling on his neck like some kind of novelty dashboard accessory as he did so. He gestured wildly, narrowly missing his glass. “Oh yes! Lindy talks about you two all the time—the jewess and the martial artist?”

Somehow Nicholas managed to look even more weary at his words, even as Agatha froze next to Nairi. “Like I said,” he said stiffly, his tone dropping even deeper. “We don’t really define people like that.”

“Oh yes, yes, I know,” said Simon airily, waving his fingers around. “It’s more interesting to find definitions of people that aren’t their names, one of my little quirks, you’ll have to forgive me.”

Agatha was so stiff next to her Nairi could almost hear her bones creaking. Nicholas shifted to escape the booth past Simon, his knees knocking up against the table. “Excuse me, I need to use the facilities.”

“We can get away with sitting in the other booth, right?” said Agatha under her breath as Nicholas jostled past them and fled to the bathroom.

“Mh-hm,” said Nairi, nodding with the knuckles of one hand pressed to her mouth. She’d met a lot of people who made her want to punch them, but it usually took more than one sentence.

“Guys!” said Linden blithely from just behind Nairi’s shoulder, seemingly having missed the whole interaction. “Cake time—Avery recommended the best little patisserie; you have to see this!”

Agatha turned immediately, and Nairi followed them the few steps to the bar as Linden jumped up to perch on one of the bar stools. She tried to deliberately lose track of Simon in the shuffle of the others budging up. Flo grinned and waved at them, Nairi awkwardly smiling back in response. Mason made a small ‘aha!’ noise as the lighter sputtered to life in his hand, and Linden squeaked as he lit the candle on the cupcake in front of her.

The cupcake was delicately frosted in little flowers, and it had a cheerful pink candle and two sprinklers sticking out of it, Linden grinning widely in the orange-yellow light. Mason leaned over her shoulder to light the sparklers, ever so casually brushing his arm along hers before leaning in to hand the lighter back to Joe. “And now we sing!” he decreed, grinning back at Linden.

Oh. Oh no.

The boisterous chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’ started up and Nairi mumbled her way through it with the others. Nicholas had reappeared, standing on the opposite side of the group to Simon with a small digital camera, taking a careful picture. Everyone yelled and cheered as Linden blew out the candle on the cupcake in front of her, and she laughed, clapping her hand together once and hugging Flo and Mason.

She let go of Mason much faster than she did Flo. Once she was clear Joe stepped up and deposited a ridiculous looking cocktail in a large glass in front of her. “For the birthday girl!” he said, grinning across the bar at her. “On the house—just this one, and just for you!” He emphasised this with an arched eyebrow and a point at her.

“Aw, Joe!” Linden laughed, leaning across and kissing his bemused cheek. “Thank you!”

“You’re very welcome, I wanted an excuse to try this recipe again—a buddy and I made it up back at my first bar job. It’s a cake cocktail! We played around with a couple of liqueur mixes and I wanted to try giving it more oomph with a smoother vodka so it didn’t lose those sweeter flavours.”

Linden took a sip and smiled at him. “Perfect! Exactly how I like it.”

Joe gave her a little flourish with a joking bow before he picked up the lighter from where Mason had left it. “I try! Now I gotta go take care of my other customers and put this away before we have any incidents. Have fun, kids!”

He winked and paced up the length of the bar towards the front, calling out a greeting to a couple of people who’d just walked in. Nairi watched him go, then Flo slapped the counter next to Linden, dragging her attention back. “Presents now!”

“Hope you don’t mind repeats,” said Mason, setting a holographic patterned giftbag on the counter next to her. “Flo and I pooled resources and just went ham down at Sampson Arts.”

“Hell yes,” said Linden, peering into the bag and poking through the contents with a grin up at him. “God, you two are gonna keep me in good sketchbooks and erasers forever, aren’t you?”

“I swear we’ll think of something better when our brains are less fried,” said Flo, hugging her around the shoulders and smushing their cheeks together. “Happy birthday!”

“Yes, happy birthday,” said Nicholas, setting a crisply wrapped box down next to the bag.

“Happy birthday,” said Agatha with a twitch of a smile, handing her an envelope. “I promise there’s a giftcard in there.”

“And I promise I’m not actually that materialistic,” said Linden, grinning back at her. “Thank you, guys, seriously.”

“I think you’re allowed to be, on your birthday,” said Nairi, handing her gift bag over. “So, feel free to get mad if my gift giving isn’t up to scratch.”

Linden looked in the top of the bag and squeaked, bobbling her head happily as she looked back up. “Well cheese is the way to a girl’s heart, so you’re safe for now,” she cracked, beaming between her and Agatha and hopping off the chair to hug Nairi and kiss her cheek. “Thank you.”

Nairi hugged her back properly this time, unsure if she was supposed to return the cheek kiss. Agatha was shifting slightly in the corner of her eye, expression uncomfortable, so she erred on the side of not.

When she separated from Linden she realised that Simon had disappeared. She glanced around, trying to figure out where he’d gone—she wasn’t certain she cared, but it was weird that he’d just vanished when everyone was focused on Linden.

There was no sign of him, and Nairi shook her head slightly, turning back to Agatha and Linden. He was probably just in the bathroom.

“…and how was your dad?” Agatha was asking.

Linden made a face. “Oh, you know, parents on big holidays. He was annoyed cause I didn’t come up for his big Christmas Eve party that he does with all his colleagues. I always feel so weird when I go to them ‘cause it’s like, half people I don’t know at all and have nothing in common with, and half people who knew me before, uh, everything,” she waved a hand in the air dismissively, “so they all don’t like me much to start with.”

Agatha snorted. “Assholes.”

“Yeah, pretty much,” said Linden with a rueful smile, taking a swig from her birthday cocktail. “It was nice to see him though—especially for a big ass meal I didn’t have to cook. I’m really just glad he’s given up trying to get me home for Thanksgiving as well, you know?”

“Hey, Lindy,” drawled Simon, interrupting them to drape himself over Linden’s shoulder.

Linden’s smile widened and she raised her hand, patting the side of his head. “Hey, honey. Behaving yourself?”

Simon laughed, kissing her cheek. “Never. Listen, I have to head home, I’m crashing something fierce, and I don’t want to be a drag on the party.”

Agatha muttered something under breath that sounded suspiciously thankful, and Nairi suppressed the urge to smile.

Linden ignored them, giving Simon a woeful look. “Aw, okay. I’ll see you on Saturday morning, yeah?”

“Yeah, of course,” said Simon, and he leaned in and kissed her in a way that was either a little too enthusiastic for a public setting, or that indicated Nairi was too unused to PDA. “Or just text me later, I usually get a second wind around two.”

Linden laughed, pecking his lips once more and indicating her drink. “Yeah I think by two I might be crashing myself. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye,” said Simon, kissing her cheek again and loping for the exit. He was still wobbling a little, and Nairi briefly wondered if she’d ever been that obvious.

“Very charming,” said Agatha mildly. “Nairi, can you grab us some drinks? I need to use the little girl’s room.”

“Sure,” said Nairi, smiling at her.

Linden giggled tipsily, leaning back in her chair as Agatha crossed the room. “You two are going well then?”

“Yeah, I think so,” said Nairi, digging in her back pocket for her wallet and looking up the bar to catch Joe’s eye. He gave her a thumbs up to indicate he’d seen her, and she glanced back at Linden. “You and Simon are too?”

Linden shrugged, gesturing with her drink. “I mean, he’s kind of a jackass—” no, really, “—but I think so! Nick definitelydoesn’t like him, though.”

Nairi snorted. “Yeah, I don’t think Agatha does either, just somehow.”

Linden laughed. “Oh, god. Sticks in the mud, both of them. It’s just ‘cause he doesn’t really know any of us except me yet, you know? He doesn’t fit in with our, uh, group dynamic.”

“Didn’t you meet him through Flo and Mason?” asked Nairi, frowning slightly.

Linden shook her head, taking another sip from her cocktail as she spun lazily on the stool to lean on the bar. “They have mutual friends, we met at a party. Oh! But like—you and Aggy are basically my closest friends, and I’ve never been a fan of third wheeling, we should totally do a double date!”

“Uh, right,” said Nairi slowly.

“Yeah!” said Linden, brightening as she warmed to her idea. “It’ll be great! Way more casual, no one being awkward ‘cause of couple shit, and not so many people at once!”

“I guess so,” said Nairi, and Linden beamed at her.

“Hey Nairi,” said Joe cheerfully, interrupting them. He was grinning widely, already setting a glass on the counter without waiting for her order, and he started talking almost immediately, pulling a silver and gold can out from the fridge behind the counter. “So, Linden mentioned you were coming back in and last time you helped me discover a hole in beverage selection, and then I remembered this stuff—my ex used to drink it all the time when he wanted soda before bed, you know?”

Nairi did not know, but she smiled and nodded at him anyway.

“Caffeine free coke,” he said proudly, spinning the can to show her the label before pouring it into the glass. “And remind me to get your opinions on kombucha later! Anything for the girlfriend or the birthday girl?”

“Ooh, yes please,” said Linden, draining her cocktail glass and holding it up. “Another one of these?”

Nairi nodded, pointing at it. “And the girlfriend, yes.”

Joe was nodding, already holding a bottle of the red Agatha usually ordered and a wineglass. “Easy as,” he said, taking Nairi’s cash and pushing the drinks across to her. “I’ll be back with the birthday special. See if you can convince Aggy to try some of the small label beer, for me!” he added with a wink.

“Deal, thanks,” said Nairi, nodding at him as she took the drinks.

Agatha came back over to them and smiled, kissing Nairi’s cheek as she took her wine. “Thanks, honey. Did I miss anything?”

“Double date!” said Linden brightly. “When are you guys free in the next couple of weeks?”

“What?” said Agatha, eyebrows rising high above her glasses.

“Double date, with me and Si, so we can hang,” said Linden, hopping up off her chair. “Nairi thought it was a good idea. I gotta pee, back in a sec.”

And then she was off and gone before Nairi could say that she hadn’t really been instrumental in thinking anything was a good idea.

When she turned her head, trying to figure out what to say, she was already being glared at. “Really?” said Agatha acerbically.

“What?” said Nairi, uncomfortably.

Agatha rolled her eyes and drank deeply from her glass.

[criquette-was-here]

Long Awaited Replies

Hello everyone! It’s been awhile since my last activity here. Stuff’s just got real last few months and I am now experiencing some heavy RLS which makes the future of the whole Feverfew project quite uncertain. I’m very annoyed by the fact I have to move the release date over and over again, but, fingers crossed, I’ll be able to manage to make it this year. But before I post any updates, I need to answer my inbox!

@landgraabsims​ said:

feverfew is absolutely gorgeous!! is it inspired by any real-life places or towns? i live in england and it reminds me of a few in-the-middle-of-nowhere villages i've visited c:

Thanks @landgraabsims​! Yes, Feverfew is based on British countryside aesthetics without any towns or villages in particular. It has a bit of everything, really. It’s a fantasy place after all. But I do use a lot of real life references for making landmarks for it.

Anonymous said:

any idea of the date of release for feverwood? just redownloaded sims 2 and im in loveee

Hey Anon! I’m glad you like it! I really hope to make it happen this year.

Anonymous said:

i would die (or pay) for zagoskin omg it looks like TS3

Oh, thank you, Anon!

@katzengirl​ said:

Hello Criquette! I don't have a challenge or a question or a request. I just wanted to tell you that I appreciate the things you've shared with us! I hope you're having a good day.

Hello Kristina! That is so sweet, thank you ^___^ I hope you’re doing fine too!

Anonymous said:

Hi there, Criquette. Been having fun with your Rural Charm set and the Better Lighting.  Ran into one small problem with the RC. One of the narrow curves picks up the texture from a road section with a crosswalk, so that looks a bit odd (30degree inner?).  And a question - is there a Better Lighting for the Iron Bracket street lamp with the seasons banner?  Thought the iron bracket would work, but it's not. Anywho, Thank You for ALL the work you put into making our hoods look fantastic!

Hey Anon! Thanks! Depending on the road DR you’re using, there can be some  texture issues here and there since Rural Charm is optimised for road texture without any markings (apart from the broken white line). As for the Iron light post with a banner – no. I’ve only made 2 Maxis’ base game lamp posts.

Anonymous said:

It's amazing how this one game embraces so many different types of players. I'm planning to create my very own nh from scratch, and I'd be a liar not to recognize how your game pics inspired me to the task (not to mention your ever impressive work of hood deco cc throughout these years). For all that, as much as I'm just another anon, thank you, sincerely. But that left me wondering: do you also/still play with the other ts2 game modes or they no longer interest you?

Oh, that is so kind, Anon. Thank you! Yes, I do love to actually play the game. I enjoy building/decorating lots as much as live mode. In fact, I often get carried away during playtest sessions and just keep playing in lot mode and that’s why there are lots like ‘The Tower Inn’ or ‘The Moose & Beaver’ or sims like Tilda Phidbach, WHT-FC28 servo and their field lab.

Anonymous said:

Criquette, do you know something about this project? thesims1master tumblr (the idea is to make the game look like the beta version. I ask, because I liked it so much, but I haven't been able to find the person behind it and I'm very curious to see more or download it, as well as his world, which I've been waiting for since last year lol)

Hey Anon! Oh, I don’t think I know anything about this project, no. But it looks rather interesting!

@forever-evenfall​ said:

Hey Criquette! I just downloaded your Lighting Remedy (because I only just realised I needed to change the txt file and not just download it lol) and when I placed your lighting text in the program files, the lighting itself worked, but the terrain itself was flashing red. Do you know what I did wrong? I literally don’t think I can play without the fix lol. I am using UC and I placed it in the Fun With Pets/SP9/TSData/Res/Lights folder. Should I have put it somewhere else?

Hello Eve! I might be wrong, but isn’t it Mansions & Gardens SP that stands for UC? Anyway, flashing red terrain is really weird consequence for just replacing a txt file. Neighborhood terrain doesn’t have any dynamic light. It has a light map instead which comes with Lighting remedy too. If you only just replace the lighting txt file without putting LR light map into your ‘Downloads’ folder, the only issue you should get would by unsynchronized light directions for hood decos and the terrain itself.

Anonymous said:

I'm having a problem: not all the decorations I put in the neighborhood are showing up in simulation mode, even with the fade off and the long-range vision on. I think there is some code that I need to add to the game files to make all the decorations appear. But I can't find how to do this: c Can you help me?

Hello Anon! Basically, there’s only one type of hood deco that isn’t showing up in lot mode and that is neighborhood effects. All the decals, flowers, fields, all the animated stuff (except for texture animation, e.g. Maxis’ marquee sign) is not showing up in lot mode. There’s nothing we can do about it. Yet. If you think that there’s a proper hood deco that isn’t showing up in lot mode, please PM me with some screenshots and we could try to sort it out.

Anonymous said:

Hello--Anon who asked about additional pieces for the Rural Charm set--I see now, thank you for explaining about the floating intersections.  Is there anything you recommend then, to add on to existing roads? Otherwise, thanks for taking the time to explain.

Hello Anon! Oh, you’re most welcome. There is a tedious way to replace a texture on the existing tile of the real road, to make in into intersection so that it would connect better visually with decorative road pieces. But that takes time. What you have to do is to determine the tile you want to edit using technique described in this tutorial and then you have to change the texture name in the corresponding line. The texture names for the intersections (their index name parts) can be found in any road DR beforehand.

@sunradersimblr​ said:

Hi, I'm just wondering if you've ever done hood deco of a highway rest stop like the type we see in the U.S. along interstates and state highways, just a green space, usually, with toilet facilities and a place for a picnic and parking lot? I need one for a story and thought I'd check with you. Thanks for all the great work you share! 

Hello Sunrader! That would be really nice addition for the highway set, but I haven’t made it. Thought it’s quite possible to make something similar if you use ‘One side exit piece’ from the motorway set and add some picnic tables, umbrellas and benches using street tables & benches set. There’s also many 4t2 deco conversions for toilets and other small size decos that would help to create a decent resting stop.

@nataliepop​ said:

Hi there Criquette! There's a new game called Townscaper which I think you'd like. The architecture has an English aesthetic and you build cities or towns but it all starts on an ocean. It's in early access, so I hope by the time it officially releases they add boats and piers. Look it up on Steam or Youtube. I saw it via someone who usually does Cities Skylines videos. Btw, have you ever played that? Also, apart from sims what else do you enjoy playing? Anyway, hope you are having a good day!

Hey Natpop! Thanks for a lovely game suggestion! I’ve checked it out and it looks really fun. Can’t say I’d play it though XD All my free time (which I don’t have atm) is reserved for simming hood deco making working on Feverfew ^^

Anonymous said:

hey~ i love all of your stuff, you're so talented (๑♡⌓♡๑) i wanted to ask, do you think you'll ever release feverfew's sc4 map? 

Thank you Anon! That’s very kind. I’m not sure if there’s any point in releasing SC4 map I used for Feverfew because it’s completely differs from the way it looks now. The road layout is different, there’s no canal, no islands on the river, hills are different, etc. It has been heavily terraformed and edited during development process. I’d recommend just to wait till the Feverfew neigborhood release.

Anonymous said:

Hi! Do you have any idea of when Feverfew will be released? :) 

Hey Anon! It will be released this year, hopefully!

Anonymous said:

Hello :D Is it possible to get your linden trees as lot objects in build/garden section? I love them and they beautify my neighborhood but could really use an option to select them on lots too :)

Hello Anon! Yes, that’s possible, though I can’t say if I could make it myself. What I can say though, is that there’s a linden trees redux coming soon. It would make linden trees look better and highly optimised so that it would only take 4,5 Mb instead of 60 Mb without any losses in texture quality and resolution. 

[ricekrispyjoints]

3 and/or 11 for the sappy prompts blease I'm soft (pick whatever fandom/pairing u want)

listen i tried to give u soft uwus and i think i kind of did but i also feel like a tease so sorry about that...

anyway since i already wrote 11, i picked 3 “It’s always been you” for royai which i’ve never written before, and maybe read like 3 fics fo them too so lmao what am i doing 

ANYWAY PLS ENJOY

Roy removedhis reading glasses and sighed heavily, pushing away from his desk.

It’s lateat night—hours after he told himself he would stay—and the only source of lightcomes from the small banker’s lamp on his desk.

His mind issluggish from the hours of reading and analyzing and thinking. He rubs his eyesin the vain attempt to clear the bleariness.

It’s nightslike this that make Roy long for something else.

He doesn’thave regrets, per se, but he can’t help but feel like he’s missing something inhis life.

Like havinga life outside of work.

That’salways been his problem, though, he supposes.

He doesn’tfeel young anymore; not with everything that’s happened. He had so much energy,so much anger and drive, but now, in the aftermath of dismantling of agovernment he feels like he’s aged thirty years.

Given hisnew reading glasses, he almost believes he did.

“Go home,Sir.”

[read on ao3]

Roystartles at the voice, but there’s only one person who would be here this late.

“You’re oneto talk,” he says, clearing his throat.

“I cameback because I knew you were still here,” she says, voice softening.

“I have aphone.”

“You and Iboth know that if I had called, you would have assured me that you wereleaving, and then stayed another hour or three.”

Riza stepsmore fully into the light, traces of circles under her eyes, but the samecomposure as always.

“That’sprobably fair,” Roy laughs.

“Come on.I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

“Thought Iwas supposed to be going home?”

Riza archesan eyebrow. “I’ll make you the cup of tea at home.”

He’ssurprised, to say the least, but he’s not going to risk saying anything thatwill make her retract the offer, so he tidies the papers on his desk, grabs hisjacket and hat, and turns out the light.

The nightair feels crisp and clean in his lungs, and the clack, clack, clack of theirboots against the cobblestones is rhythmic and synchronized in a soothing way.

They walkclosely but never touching, and Roy can’t help but wonder what would happen ifhe reached out, let their arms brush, took her hand…

She’dprobably break my fingers, he thinks with a derisive snort.

“Somethingfunny, Sir?” she asks.

“Just had athought.”

“Don’t hurtyourself.”

Roy laughslightly, but doesn’t press it.

They arriveat his apartment shortly thereafter.

Riza hasbeen here before, and she moves as naturally as if it were home toward thekitchen. She picks out two cups, fills the kettle, and lights the stove.

Roy removeshis jacket slowly, placing it on the hall tree. He places his briefcase on atable and then walks slowly to the kitchen to join Riza.

“I’m makinga tisane so it doesn’t keep you awake,” she says simply.

“I don’thave any tisanes.”

Riza slidesa box toward him. It looks like it was just purchased. “Chamomile and linden.”

Wordlessly,Roy prepares the teas, and when the water boils, Riza pours two equal cupsneatly, and they sit, holding their cups that are too hot to drink from justyet.

“Why did—”Roy starts.

“You haveto—" Riza says at the same time. “Ah, go ahead.”

“No,please. You first.”

“You haveto take better care of yourself,” Riza says.

Roy sighs.“But that’s what I have you for.”

She glaresat him, though it lacks the usual intensity. “That’s not my job.”

“You’reright. It’s not. And yet here we are.”

“Bad habit,I suppose,” Riza says.

It is a badhabit, Roy supposes. She’s had to bail him out of trouble for years, to varyingdegrees. She’s kept watch over him through so much. Roy knows for a fact hewould be dead if it weren’t for her.

He wouldalso be more miserable than he is.

Asprofessional as Riza insists on keeping things, Roy likes to believe there’s slightlymore to their relationship than commanding officer and subordinate.

He hopeshe’s not deluding himself.

They’vespent what Roy would consider intimate evenings together: just the two of them,working silently across the room, the only noise coming from the shuffling ofpapers and the scratching of pens.

She’salways taken care of him, and Roy likes to think that, especially recently,he’s gotten better at returning the favor.

He bringsher lunch every day except for Wednesday, when she has a standing lunch with afriend.

He leavesbooks he thinks she might enjoy on her desk.

He alwaysmakes sure to carry her favorite type of pen on him, since it’s the favorite ofmost of their coworkers and thus tends to get misplaced (read: stolen).

Despite theupheaval in regimes, Roy remains her superior—her direct superior atthat—and he knows that no matter her personal feelings for him, her sense ofpropriety would prevent her from ever even so much as admitting it.

And yet,here they are, in his kitchen as they’ve been many times. She’s come to hisoffice, dragged him home, made him tea.

This is nota superior-subordinate relationship.

This is nother job.

So why…?

“How did weget here?” Roy asks, testing the waters.

“We walked,Sir,” Riza snarks.

He shootsan unimpressed look at her. “You know what I’m asking.”

“Maybe Idon’t want to answer.” She takes a long sip of her tea.

That catches his interest. “Why not?”

“Don’t makeme say it,” she says, her voice low and measured.  

“Humor me?”

She setsher teacup down, fixing him with a long stare. “You entrusted me, long ago,with watching your back.”

“I don’tthink dragging me out of the office to make me calming tea is really part of ‘watchingmy back’.”

“Perhapsnot in the sense you meant it, no,” she agrees. “But I chose to re-interpret ithow I saw fit.”

“Whichmeans?”

“There’smore than one way to watch over you,” she says simply.

“Thingshave changed quite a bit since I first asked you to watch my back.”

“All themore reason for me to adapt my actions.”

“Some mightsay that dragging me home for tisanes and to tuck me in at night goes beyondeven an updated interpretation of your directive,” Roy says carefully.

She liftsher chin, defiant. “I’m dedicated to my work.”

“So you dothis to your other colleagues as well?” Roy asks with a smirk.

“Of coursenot, none of the others need this much attention.”

“I wouldn’tbe too sure, I saw Fuery trip up a hill yesterday, maybe he needs morehelp than I do.”

“You knowit’s always been you,” Riza says, voice turning more serious. “And after everythingwe’ve been through, it will always be you.”

“Alwaysbeen me… for what?”

“Everything,I suppose. Our situation is complicated, I know. And it always has been.Military hierarchy, life and death situations… but throughout it all, there’salways been you: at the center, at the forefront. How could I ever abandonthat?”

“I’m not askingyou to abandon it,” Roy rushes to say. “The opposite, actually.”

“You’reasking me for a commitment I can’t give you,” she says, and Roy doesn’t thinkhe’s imagining the sadness in her voice.

“No, I… Iunderstand.”

“Not yet,at least,” she says, trying to hide the small smile that tugs at the corner ofher lips.

It soundslike a promise.

[nealc25]

Hi! Do you have any recommendations for the best cafes to study at in Berlin? I live here too and I adore studying in cafes :)

Dear Cosmogyros, this is a very good question. Since I don’t usually study in Cafes (I prefer the university libraries), I’ll love to hear others Berliner from the Studyblr Community. Meanwhile, I’ll try to do my best:

• St. Oberholz (Rosenthaler Str. 72A, 10119 Berlin, Mitte):Spacious Cafe arranged over two floors, because of its fast wifi connection it’s a popular space for homeworking and coworking. Open 8-22 during the week, 9-00 during the weekends, it has a good selection of cakes and bakery food, hot and cold drinks, an-/alchoolics, lunch menu (daily soup, sandwiches, toasts, pies, quiches), etc. During the summer ask for the homemade lemonades or fruit/ginger waters, during the winter for their special ginger-mint-tea.  Unfortunately, prices are typically Mitte but with just a small coffee, you can stay as long as you want, for nobody is going to send you away. 

• Coffee Fellow (Pappelallee 1, 10437 Berlin, Prenzlauer Berg):Typical Cafe Chane in Berlin. I’m recommending this one near Eberswalder Str. because I was surprised by the fast and efficient wifi connection. Also, this branch has a very comfortable co-working space with tables, lamps, and plugs. Prices are typically Mitte. Opening hours: 7-22 every day.

• Cafe Naugarder (Naugarder Str. 45, 10409 Berlin, Prenzlauer Berg):My Favourite. Family Business, the owner is a Turkish family, selling delicious bakery products, traditional german cakes like Käsekuche, Mohrenkuche, Blechkuchen but also Turkish food like Sesam Rings, Couscous Salads, Baklava, breakfast and proper lunch menus (lentil soup, fish and baked potatoes, pasta, steak, and other meat dishes). If it’s too full the wifi could be slow. Economic prices, open 7.30-20 during the week, 7.30-18.30 on weekends. 

• Melis Coffee (Prenzlauer Allee 51, 10405 Berlin, Prenzlauer Berg):Another Turkish Coffee shop. Smaller and simple, just a bit more expensive of the previous one, but also less frequented. Fast and efficient wifi connection. Opening hours: 7.-00 every day.

• Coffee Bar Humbold Universität (Unter den Linden 6, 10117 Berlin, Mitte): Always the best choice. With Eduroam internet connection is secured, prices are for studies and you. Unfortunately, are the opening hours very short in comparison with most of the Cafes in Berlin: 12-18 on weekdays, closed in the weekend. 

• Meyerbeer-Coffee (Universitätsstraße 2-3A, 10117 Berlin, Mitte):Good wifi connection, nice atmosphere, more comfortable than other Cafes in the Uni zone. Prices are typically Mitte and unfortunately, by 12 am all the best sandwiches /salads/lunch selections are gone.  Opening hours: 7.30-20 on weekdays, 9-19 on Saturday, 11-18 on Sunday. 

These are the ones I experienced myself. Since I leave at the border Pankow-Prenzlauer Berg I don´t have any address in Kreuzberg, Neukölln or Friedrichshain but I extend this question to others studyblrs here on Tumblr:

Do you know any good Cafe in Berlin for studies?    

[thebardanon]

1. Ring

It started as so many of these nights do...with a body. a John Doe, real name Linden Suess. A student from Gotham University. He was found buried under a pile of garbage. GCPD detectives had hit a wall with his name, but they had keen insight into the cause. Purple marks highlighted injection sights on his arms and neck. Forced injections that caused bruising and even swelling. Feet where cut and worn, he’d run for a fair distance without shoes before crashing in the alley. His hands had contorted as he hid under the garbage and slowly died of the overdose. 

I read the report again. “And.” James Gordon watched me from the corner of his eye, refusing to give me full attention, refusing to admit he needed the help of a vigilante. “It’s no secret he’s a recovering addict. Opioids. But the kid was clean two years before getting into GSU.” Twenty-six was pushing the kid line, and stress is the greatest enemy to vigilance. “Wait for the Autopsy. We have to prove that the toxin is in his system, I’ll look around the places he was known to frequent.” Gordon sighed and sat back in his chair.

Gordon knew the kid's name as soon as he saw the picture. Gordon also knew the victim's habits. A great detective Gordon maybe, but how did he know Suess wasn’t just another relapse, and the victim was targeted, how did Gordon find out before the “kid” was killed. Worse, why didn’t he do anything to save him?

Gotham University was a sprawling campus, twelve city blocks square, and was the greenest part of Midtown. The night was fought by small lamps that had not been updated since the early seventies, the weak wattage doing little more than showing the winding path from one building to another. Joyce Dorm, Suess’ home in academia, was taller than the other dorms at ten floors. It had once been a lecture hall before renovated into low-cost student housing. Not all the students are vagrants, but more than a third of the residents won't see graduation. Gangs, Drugs, Fear. Gotham has no shortage of tools to ward off the bright-minded and eager to learn.

His room was on the third floor, second from the corner. The inside smelled of cigarette smoke and dirty laundry. A computer hummed on the desk and a roommate slept soundly on the right, messier, side. The bed was made, books neatly ordered, notes clean and organized. He could have still been an addict, but it was looking less and less likely. Bills were current, but there was something off. There were deposit stubs, how did an unemployed student put away more than eight hundred dollars a month? Maybe not an addict. Dealer.

A small box caught my eye, a ring, Graduating Class of 1979. I recognized the birthstone, and the initials carved inside the band, coincidences? I needed better answers. By the time I return to the precinct Gordon is gone. Bullock is waiting on the rooftop, or as close as his fear of heights would let him. His foot propped open the access door.  “Said you show up.” The words filled with every ounce of spite of a native Gotham son. “Shoulda been Rat man or some shit, Meeting in the kitchen would be better than this.” “Where is he?” “He’s recused himself.” Bullock spat the word like he’d rehearsed it. “A damn vacation if ya ask me. He says you can stop by Benny’s later. Me, I’d rather you went straight to-” I’m sure Bullock had clear directions to where I should go. But I was gone. He’d realize it once he got a few more lines and jokes out. He gets uncomfortable when people don’t tell him to ‘shut up’.

Bella’s was empty, almost. The Diner turned Deli turned laundering center for the Falcones turned clinic or more specifically Supervised Injection Site. It wasn’t the only more progressive outreach program, but it was the only one ran by the same staff as Gotham Medical’s free clinic, and paid for by the Wayne Foundation. Gordon sat in one of the booths turned waiting bench. I joined him. “I’m starting to wonder if you sleep in that thing...if you sleep that is.” I sat his ring on the table. 

“Talk.”

[noplansl]

..::THOR::.. : Tropical Dining Set - Fatpack Monstera Enamel Leaf Summer Dining Table Tropical Dining Chair Tropical Dinnerware

Nutmeg. : Mint Iced Tea Nutmeg. : Farmhouse Table Dishes

dust bunny : brunch . bagel sandwich dust bunny : brunch . brioche loaf

DISORDERLY. : Shell Summer / String Light {vespertine} : - sea side coral trinket bottles.

andika : {power lunch}Dispenser Set @Anthem A-Dispenser B-Dispenser

Ariskea : June Group Gift - Wood Lamp {wn} : Malia Lantern #1 - natural HISA : Rustic Wooden Deck (Group gift)

Heart : -VR-product - Fallen Autumn Leaves - Linden Tree Heart : -VR-Coco Palms-Leaf Debris Heart : Window Box 1 - Turquoise White - C/M (Fundati) : Giant Oak Tree II - Summer (Fundati) : Ruins Floor I w/iv Nutmeg. : Autumn Garden Bicycle (Rust) / Gift HISA : Flora wildflower grass - Grass Greens *HPMD* : Shrub03 - summer c/curve AB + FINCA . : Christmas Fence . White . Module w/ Posts

[leanpick]

WIN a Kelly Wearstler Linden Table Lamp

WIN a Kelly Wearstler Linden Table Lamp

Expecting nothing less from Kelly Wearstler, the Linden Table Lamp is rich in texture – an organic yet modern lamp featuring Kelly’s signature use of spheres and repetition. Its symmetry and precision adds a pop of spirited sculptural chic to any space. Thanks to The Montauk Lighting Co, we’re giving you the chance to win this iconic piece valued at over $1,700. To enter, look for the code word…

[jeremystrele]

An 1870s Church Turned Stylist’s Family Home!

An 1870s Church Turned Stylist’s Family Home!

Homes

by Lucy Feagins, Editor

This is the exterior of the church on the High Street of Willunga. The family added the windows after obtaining permission from State Heritage. Photo – Marnie Hawson.

The fam! Large Margaret Preston exhibition banner bought when Sarah worked at the Art Gallery of SA bookshop. Painting found in a Swedish op-shop. Photo – Marnie Hawson.

The front courtyard houses a vintage outdoor setting bought on Gumtree. There is a cafe on one side and a glass studio on the other. Photo – Marnie Hawson.

The mezzanine with steel staircase, designed and built by Adam. The family clad the newly built walls in v-groove panelling to contrast with the stone walls, which are painted in Dulux Antique White USA. The long picture above the dresser is a vintage temple rubbing. The coffee table is from @danishvintagemodern. The ‘Tessa’ chair was bought on Gumtree. Photo – Marnie Hawson.

The dining area is tucked under the mezzanine; it has been kept deliberately art-free. Black Danish chairs found on Gumtree find and re-painted. Photo – Marnie Hawson.

The original jarrah floors were a non-negotiable keeper! Swing from Etsy. Linen couch from Living By Design. Rug by Armadillo and Co. Photo – Marnie Hawson.

The large wall hanging to the right of the window are lithographs made by the Religious Tract Society in London for churches and Sunday schools. Sarah and Adam found the large European processional staff at Scammells Auctions. Linen couch from Living By Design. Rug by Armadillo and Co. Photo – Marnie Hawson.

A print of a William Blake etching that used to hang in Sarah’s bedroom when she was growing up.  The tiny church lamp was a gift from Sarah’s sister Emma (the other half of Read & Hall) when Sarah bought the church. Floral painting from the Camberwell market. Photo – Marnie Hawson.

Adam and Sarah built the shelves from recycled Oregon timber and Bunnings brackets. Vintage ‘Sebel’ table, still-life and bentwood bench found on Gumtree. Freedom rug. The theatre sign was from the State Theatre Company auction. Lanterns from The Society Inc. Photo – Marnie Hawson.

In winter the family move the couches closer to the fire on the other side of the living room. The painting of the fairground (top right on the gallery wall) is by Cornish artist Michael Quirke. The tin horses were found in an antique shop in Tilba Tilba, NSW. The lady holding the teacup painting is by South Australian artist Zoe Freney. The castle on the cliff is by G. W. Hill. Green hills screenprint by Svenston Ehmen (1957). Photo – Marnie Hawson.

Adam mixes records in this room where the acoustics are amazing. The painting is an altar backdrop painted by Karl Forup in 1932 for the Church of Daniel in Copenhagen, which is no longer there. Sarah found it for sale in someone’s shed contents when sourcing for Read & Hall Traders and looked up the history. Vintage Ikea rocker recovered in boucle fabric. Photo – Marnie Hawson.

Giant lamp is from Pottery Barn Australia. Large nautical signal flag bought on eBay. Large Bauhaus print found on Etsy. Textile artwork near lamp is by Irish artist Rosemary Cullen. Photo – Marnie Hawson.

Pepper grinder by Alexander Mill bought at Mr Kitly. Photo – Marnie Hawson.

One of the three original arched doors in the church. The screenprint was a gift from Adelaide printmaker Georgia Cheeseman. Photo – Marnie Hawson.

Original Baltic pine doors. The painting to the left of the window is by Danish artist Orla Petersen bought at Scammells Auctions in Adelaide. Photo – Marnie Hawson.

Kitchen details. The painting to the right of the banner is by T. Ringdahl and was bought at a charity shop in Sweden. Photo – Marnie Hawson.

The vintage shop banner was purchased years ago from Scammells Auctions . Sarah and Adam hope to put a window here to the backyard when they do the next extension. Photo – Marnie Hawson.

The long skinny kitchen is 9 x 3.5 metres. Sarah designed the kitchen island after watching Sense & Sensibility and saw one she loved. The female portrait is by Sandra Rose and belonged to Sarah’s mum. The male portrait above her is by Anna Po painted int 1972.  Painting of a girl writing is by A. Bredsdorff in 1928 and was bought by Adam at Scammells Auctions. The painting on the right is by Adam’s sister Alex Linden while she was at art school and is a copy of Holiday at Mentone by Charles Conder. Photo – Marnie Hawson.

Alfie on the kitchen day bed. The french style cushions are made by Sarah and her sister Emma from vintage French fabric, which they sell at Read & Hall Traders. Photo – Marnie Hawson.

Our petite bedroom with original carved Baltic pine door. The wall lamp by the bed was bought Vintage Carousel SA. The tiny white staircase on the chest of drawers is from a flea market in Paris. Photo – Marnie Hawson.

Old windows from a factory in Amsterdam bought from Fossil Vintage. This window open to the fireplace in the main living space. Photo – Marnie Hawson.

The bed was made by joining two Swedish single beds found on marketplace into a king size bed. Covered in Society of Wanderers linen. The side table is an old washstand with a terrazzo top. Painting was bought in an antique shop in Copenhagen and is by Danish artist Louis Moe. Brass Russian lamp from Gumtree. Photo – Marnie Hawson.

Arlo’s bedroom with another of the Fossil Vintage windows. The print was bought at a gift store in Stockholm. Tiger cushions made with fabric from The Drapery. Animal-printed vintage curtains from Gumtree. Photo – Marnie Hawson.

Sarah and Adam Fairhead Hall knew of this old church in Willunga, South Australia, having regularly visited Sarah’s sister in the town. When they learned the property was for sale, they put in an offer and crossed their fingers, and finally five months later, their offer was accepted!

The heritage listed former Church Of Christ building has a rich history, having functioned as a Masonic lodge, WWII control centre, Country Women’s Association centre and more since 1870.

‘It had been lived in by others since 1991, but no internal structure like the mezzanine was put in place,’ says Sarah. ‘When we bought it, the church was hired out as a yoga studio, for belly dancing classes and chanting, along with party hire. So A LOT has happened in this space!’ Sarah says. 

The couple and their children Story, (now 12) and Arlo (8) moved into the space in 2017, initially camping in tents, while they decided how best to divide the space.

‘It had to include a swing for the kids, internal windows that could look in a main space, and leave as much full height space as possible,’ says Sarah. ‘Once we figured out the layout it was a lot easier, then we could work out how big we wanted each room and kind of made it up as we went along… Eventually we just needed walls!’

Among significant additions include north-facing windows (in place of previously bricked up niches), a new kitchen, and the mezzanine built by Adam, containing three bedrooms. 

Even with some walls now in place, the house retains somewhat of a studio feel, which is continually being arranged. Sarah is the owner of styling and vintage furniture business Read&Hall, and has furnished the space to adopt a rustic feel filled with vintage signage, tableware and other treasures proudly on display against a Dulux Antique White USA backdrop. The religious backdrop above the record player was found rolled up in a shed, and is believed to have come from a church in Copenhagen. 

Being a heritage structure, Sarah says there are always compromises to be made, but that all comes with the territory of living in a church! ‘It was not a house and not designed to be one. The kitchen is very long and narrow and has a door into the master bedroom!’ she says.

In future, the family hopes to expand with an addition off the kitchen, under the guidance of a state heritage appointed architect. ‘We can’t wait to get to that bit!’ says Sarah.

[architectnews]

Lush Beverly Hills Bungalow

Lush Bungalow, Luxury California Home, Beverly Hills Real Estate, US House Photos

Lush Beverly Hills Bungalow in California

Feb 9, 2021

Lush Bungalow in Beverly Hills

Interior Design: Magni Kalman Design

Location: Beverly Hills, Southern California, USA

Blurring the edges between indoors and out, the re-design of this Beverly Hills Residence focuses on redistributing the home’s layout to create a welcoming internal courtyard. Once inside the entry vestibule, a series of well-composed sightlines establish a simultaneously elegant and informal entry sequence. The lush interior garden is a sanctuary, easily accessible from the kitchen, dining room, and living room.

Traditional textures such as rough-cut stone and weathered wood blend with more contemporary elements ranging from smooth-trowel stucco, powder-coated metal, and glass. The second phase of construction, completed three years later, transformed the segmented kitchen and dining area into an open plan concept with a seamless connection to the lush courtyard oasis.

The sophisticated second story addition creates a loose dichotomy between the new structure and the previous single-story dwelling. In response to the home’s location and the owner’s design aesthetic, the second-floor addition is modest and makes no moves to disrupt the privacy of its neighbors.

Who are the clients and what’s interesting about them? The architect met the owner 15 years ago when he and his wife at the time were renovating their home, which was subsequently sold upon their divorce. Both the owner and architect are South-African born but reside in Los Angeles.

What was the brief? The owner wanted to update their Beverly Hills bungalow to better suit their changing lifestyle. A single bachelor with college-aged children, the owner’s main goals focused on creating a forever home within the existing footprint. But he also wanted to design a space that would accommodate his style while still catering to the tastes of a potential new partner, if and when she comes into the picture.

What were the key challenges? Renovating a single-story 1930s bungalow measuring little more than 2,000 square feet was the largest challenge.

What were the solutions? A series of well-composed sightlines establish a simultaneously elegant and informal reception sequence. The lush interior garden is a sanctuary, easily accessible from the kitchen, dining room, and living room.

The sophisticated second story addition creates a loose dichotomy between the new structure and the previous single-story dwelling. In response to the home’s location and the owner’s design aesthetic, the 1,425 square foot second-floor addition is modest and makes no moves to disrupt the privacy of its neighbors.

Key products used: Traditional textures such as rough-cut stone and weathered wood blend with more contemporary elements ranging from smooth-trowel stucco, powder-coated metal, and glass.

Bulthaup (Kitchen)

FURNISHINGS: *Piero Lissoni (Seating in Vestibule) *Eero Saarinen Tulip table, *a David Weeks fixture, *and vintage Saarinen chairs *A pair of vintage Ib Kofod-Larsen chairs. *Roberto Lazzeroni desk with a vintage Robert Bulmore lamp *Milo Baughman chaise in bedroom

ART: *A mirror-polished, hand-etched steel piece by young artist Dean Levin *Photo behind desk in office is Mona Kuhn *Joel Morrison’s stainless steel “Nail Abstraction” from his Cartier series stands by the new patinated steel stairway in a double-height volume.

Lush Bungalow in Beverly Hills, CA – Building Information

Interior Design: Magni Kalman Design

Project size: 2500 ft2 Completion date: 2020 Building levels: 2

Photography: Manolo Langis

Lush Beverly Hills Bungalow images / information received 090221

Location: Beverly Hills, California, USA

Beverly Hills Property

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Website: Beverly Hills, California

Comments / photos for the Lush Beverly Hills Bungalow page welcome

The post Lush Beverly Hills Bungalow appeared first on e-architect.

[kopfkinobylilylovelace]

“Blum Sofa Set”

A sofa set to brighten up your living room!

The Set is available in 3 colours and contains a sofa (with 12 brandnew KOPFKINO Bento Animations, amongst others), an ottoman table, some books, wine and cigarettes to decorate the same, and a stylish floor lamp to shed some light to your room.

A fatpack is also available, containing all of the colours and items, and saves you some Linden.

Additionally, the furniture comes with a materials and non-materials version, whichever suits your needs best.

Available at the KOPFKINO Mainstore.

[tiliamericana]

Muay Thai: 1.07

Read From Start | Read Ahead | Home Site

Nairi stared at the window. The window stared back. The window very much wanted her to know that its name was “Joe”.

Linden swung back out of the doorway of the bar, looking between Nairi and the window, and she grinned. “Yeah, Joe’s just like this,” she said, grabbing Nairi’s wrist and tugging her towards the door. “Come on, you’ll see what I’m talking about.”

The inside of the bar was warmly lit, and while it wasn’t fancy it was definitely nicer than the dive Linden had set on fire last week. The lights hung low from the ceiling in eclectic, mismatched lamp shades, yellow and incandescent despite what felt like five million articles a week about the environment and fluorescent lighting. The booth seats were lined with shiny red vinyl, stacked along the wall opposite the long bar with its tall stools. The lights behind the bar were big, painted bulbs on a string, decorating two signs in clashing materials that read ‘JOE’ and ‘JOE’S KITCHEN’ in different fonts and stretching along the shelves that were cluttered with bottles that looked like they’d been arranged with more mind paid to how they looked than their cost or use. There was an old-fashioned popcorn machine sitting on the corner with a wire rack stacked high with paper cones, and a flowerpot on the back counter with ‘TIPS’ painted on it in colourful dots. A short and cheerful looking guy in a black shirt and thick rimmed glasses was drying a cocktail shaker with a rag, and he grinned at the two of them as they approached the bar.

Linden dropped Nairi’s wrist and slammed her hands down on the counter, gesturing towards the bartender. “Nairi, this is Joe! He runs a great bar.”

“Right,” said Nairi, nodding at him after a moment, hand raised very slightly to wave across the bar. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too!” said Joe, setting the shaker on the counter and draping the rag over his shoulder. “At last—Linden never shuts up about you. Can I grab you guys a drink?”

Linden what?

“Whatcha got on the non-alcoholic front?” asked Linden, totally unbothered by this assertion, grinning animatedly with glossy lips and blushed cheeks. She winked and elbowed Nairi lightly. “Nairi’s tee-total. Not big on the caffeine, either.”

“Just a coke is fine,” said Nairi to Joe with another awkward nod.

“Oh, I can do you an orange juice if caffeine’s a bug,” said Joe brightly, pulling a glass off the rack in front of him. “Gotta say, coke’s got too much for me on nights I’m not working, don’t like to drink it after the sun’s down, y’know? Or if you wanna go a bit fancy I can whip up a mocktail! Dash of grenadine, shot of mango, tiny umbrella, the works?”

“Orange juice is great, thanks,” said Nairi after a moment, hooking her hands into her back pockets to stop them from clasping in front of her chest.

“Coke’s got caffeine in it?” said Linden, leaning on the bar.

Joe nodded, bending at the waist and pulling a bottle of orange juice out of one of the clear fronted fridges behind him. “Yeah! I guess ‘cause it’s sweet most people don’t think of it. Can I grab ya something, Lindy? I got a new case of chocolate stout in on Tuesday, it’s pretty great.”

Linden laughed, kicking her toe back behind her to prop on the floor as she leaned in. “Oh, don’t tempt me—you know how I feel about stouts! Can I just have a vodka on a rock?”

Joe laughed and nodded as he finished pouring the orange juice, pulling out a squat glass and depositing the largest ice cube Nairi had ever seen into it. He poured a generous amount of vodka over the ice, then finished each drink with a splash of pink grenadine and a novelty straw. Linden’s had a heart shaped loop in it.

He pushed set them on the counter in front of them with a grin, and Nairi smiled back, handing over her card.

A warm hand found Nairi’s, Linden guiding them towards a booth at the back of the room. Nairi glanced at her, eyes flicking around the room for a bin where she could get rid of her novelty straw. “How do you feel about stouts?”

Linden’s mouth twitched. “No clue,” she admitted. “They’re like, the dark ones, right? Joe’s really big on his beers.”

“You’re not?” said Nairi, her mouth twitching a little.

Linden held up her vodka in a mock salute with a wink. “I’m more in favour of efficiency and having fun.”

“A woman after my own heart,” said Nairi.

Linden giggled, the lines around her eyes creasing as they drew to a halt by the backmost booth, occupied by two colourful hairstyles and a grouchy looking ginger in glasses. The first two Nairi recognised from Linden’s texts—the grad student friends with musical talent. The ginger was a mystery.

“Guys, this is Nairi!” said Linden to the table, prompting the three of them to turn their heads with a chorus of greetings, curious eyes lingering on Nairi. “Nairi, this is Mason,” soft faced man, teal hair flat ironed into a fringe over one eye, “Flo,” a young black woman, her cornrows and wayfarer style glasses in matching shades of bright pink, “and Agatha!” solving the mystery of the ginger.

“Welcome to the post-grad misery zone,” said Mason, toasting her with a pink and fizzy drink complete with a straw to match Linden’s. “Agatha’s just submitted her PhD thesis, we’re commiserating.”

“Oh, uh, congratulations?” said Nairi to Agatha.

“Thanks,” said Agatha tiredly, shoving her glasses up her nose.

“No!” said Flo, slapping the table with a wide grin. “We cannot congratulate you before your defence, it’s bad luck! We’ll jinx you!”

Mason laughed, a little too loudly, shaking his head as Linden slid into the seat next to Flo with a short cackle, patting the vinyl next to her with a grin at Nairi. “We’ll crack out the leg-breaking wishes on the day for you, Aggy,” she said, leaning into a hug from Flo.

Nairi perched awkwardly at the edge of the booth, setting her pink-tinged juice on the table. Agatha’s eyes kept flicking towards her as she and Mason talked about scheduling logistics and email exchanges with professors. Nairi tried not to let it bother her and took a sip of her drink, turning her head to tune into Linden and Flo where they’d gone rapid fire into chatting about… performances? She thought they’d been arguing about theatre curses, but they were well into local bands now, the conversation jumping so quickly she couldn’t keep track.

She turned the glass around in her hand, fingers twitching slightly, and then glanced up as she heard footsteps approaching. Edith caught her eye, slowing to a halt on her way past the table. “Oh, hello again,” she said, sounding faintly amused as her eyebrow twitched up and disrupted her usual frown. “I heard you two had an exciting week.”

“Not really. Kinda quiet,” said Nairi, taking another sip of her juice.

Edith gave a quiet scoff of a laugh, rapping her knuckles on the tabletop next to Nairi’s hand. “Really? That’s not quite what Nicholas has been saying.”

Nairi hummed, setting her glass down.

Edith collected a neat whiskey from a round-faced young woman who joined her from the bar. “This is Verity,” she said, nodding at her. “Verity, this is Nairi and the redhead is Linden, the one who knows people in town closer to your age.”

At a guess Verity was about ten years older than anyone else at the table. Edith didn’t appear to care about this fact. Nairi nodded at her with an awkward smile, her teeth toggling with a tag of skin on the inside of her cheek. “Nice to meet you. Excuse me, uh, I just—need the bathroom a second.”

“Have fun,” said Edith glibly as Nairi stood and edged past her.

Nairi ignored her as she strode to the back of the bar, trying not to pick up speed as she went.

Mercifully the bathroom was empty. It was a small, two stall affair, and while Joe’s sense of interior design had extended into the room in the questionable paint choices and a talking bass over the paper towel dispenser, it was also quiet. She hesitated, then wedged the door shut, leaning her back against it and covering her face with her hands.

What was she doing? It was only three people. Three of Linden’s friends, that was all. Edith and Verity made five, but that wasn’t a crowd. She’d been in crowded bars, filled with way more people, louder volumes, far, far more confusing conversations—

And when she escaped to the bathroom it was usually to snort something before she went back out and glared at everyone who tried to talk to her, filled in the cynical voice that sat in the back of her head.

Suddenly the bathroom was the last place she wanted to be. She glared at the floor and stood up properly, setting the cold tap on the tiny sink to full blast and shoving her hands under the stream. She slammed the soap dispenser aggressively and started scrubbing at her hands, wrinkling her nose at the strong, sickly scent. Water splashed up her sleeves as she took deep breaths through her nose, counting down from one hundred silently.

By the time she turned off the tap her hands were numb, the paper towel scraping her skin through what felt like a thick, protective coating all over her fingers. She closed her eyes and took another deep breath before exiting the bathroom.

When she came back out there’d been a switch in the conversational configurations and she paused, looking around to see if there was somewhere she’d… fit. It was worth it, to try, wasn’t it?

Mason and Flo were knocking elbows at the bar, looking at liquor bottles, while Verity and Edith had joined Agatha for a conversation that apparently required a lot of serious expressions and shredded napkins. Linden had swapped tables entirely, engaged deeply in a conversation with an older woman.

Nairi started to drift towards them, catching a snippet of what they were saying.

“—yeah, it definitely gets easier once you’re off the spiro, after,” Linden was saying as she rolled a beer bottle between her hands, previous glass empty on the table in front of her. “I go for injections these days, I’m like, totally useless at remembering to take a daily pill, though I did while I was in college.”

“I’ve been considering swapping,” said the woman, nodding at Linden. “My partner gets squeamish with needles, though—”

Nairi’s feet turned to head towards the bar without her actively thinking about it. She had no desire to discuss anything relating to needles or medication right now, no matter how benign.

“Oh, I knew if I left them alone they’d get into hormones!” said a cheerful voice from just beside her.

Nairi turned and was greeted by a short, androgynous looking blond with their hand outstretched. For lack of a better response, she shook it.

“I’m Avery,” they said, smiling widely. “Are you Nairi? Your friend, Linden, mentioned you before I left her alone with Cynth and let them derail straight into titty-skittle talk.”

Nairi latched onto one part of the sentence without meaning to. “Synth?”

Avery burst out laughing. “Sorry! Cynthia—my wife. I have to shorten every name, it’s my worst trait!”

“No-o! We all do it, you’ll fit right in!” cried out Flo, wrapping an arm around Avery’s shoulders and squeezing. “Nairi! Come sit with us! Avery uses they as a personal pronoun, isn’t that cool?”

“Um, very cool,” said Nairi, letting herself follow them up to the front of the bar where Mason and Joe were very seriously discussing what the essential components of a good Manhattan were.

Flo and Avery giggled, jostling up against each other and Nairi as they took the seats next to Mason. Joe grinned at them as they sat, Mason taking a dainty sip of his cocktail through a comically small straw. “Hey, hey! Anything I can get for you ladies and genderqueer? Another juice?” he said, winking at Nairi.

Flo gasped, slapping the top of the bar. “Mocktails! Joe, do you know any good mocktails?”

“Oh, no, it’s okay—” started Nairi, but Flo and Avery were nodding eagerly, and someone’s hand patted her shoulder.

“I love mocktails!” crowed Avery, nodding eagerly. “Cynth thinks they’re dumb—she’s a grain alcohol kinda lady—”

“I might know some mocktails,” said Joe loudly, and Mason, Avery and Flo cheered raggedly, Flo clapping over the counter.

Joe did make a good mocktail, or at least a tasty one. Tasty wasn’t always the same as ‘good’ when it came to regular cocktails, but she thought hers might be pineapple based and it was sweet, so Nairi thought it was good. The others were easy conversation too; they didn’t actively leave her out, but no one was leaning on her to talk, and when she did, at least one of them paid attention.

Still, when she heard her name called she was grateful for the excuse to walk away from the loud chatter.

“There you are,” said Linden cheerfully as she stopped at the table, the seating arrangement having cycled through again. She and Agatha were on one side of the booth, their cheeks reddened from the booze, or the warmth, or the conversation, Nairi couldn’t tell. Edith was sprawled across from them, taking up the whole bench seat and looking highly amused by whatever they were talking about. “Do you wanna go for a ride?” Linden asked guilelessly, looking up at Nairi as she took a drink from her beer.

“Yeah, sure,” said Nairi, shrugging at her. “Where were you thinking of heading out to?”

Edith snorted and Linden shrugged back. “Don’t know yet, still mulling it over. You left your drink at the bar,” she added. She was still smiling, but there was something cynical lurking in her eyebrows.

“Oh, thanks,” said Nairi, with the nagging feeling that she’d missed something.

There was a small kerfuffle as she turned to head back to the bar, rustling of cloth and Linden saying, “You see what I mean?” about something.

Her drink was where she’d left it, Flo and the others were being corralled back to the booths by Cynthia, and when she turned around, Agatha was standing there, looking a little flushed. “Hi,” she said, blinking at her.

“Hi,” said Agatha, and then, all at once: “Do you want to get out of here?”

“Yes,” said Nairi immediately, a rush of relief filling at her at the sudden escape route in front of her.

“Really?” said Agatha, smiling at her. “I, I meant—with me?”

Nairi smiled back at her. “Yeah.” Agatha was cute, in an angry kind of way, she thought, suddenly speculative. And god only knew it had been too long since she’d had any kind of intimacy like that, friendly or otherwise. Besides, if it went downhill she could probably take her. “Let me just say goodbye to Linden, she doesn’t like it when I vanish without warning her.”

“Oh, of course,” said Agatha, nodding, her cheeks reddening. “I’ll meet you outside?”

Nairi set her glass down in the ‘return zone’ Joe had marked out on the bar in neon washi tape (it had parking bays, he was really committed to the quirky bit) and walked back over to Linden’s booth, feeling like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. “Hey, I’m heading home for the night,” she said casually, nudging Linden’s shoulder with her knuckles.

Linden’s eyes widened as she looked up, gaze darting past Nairi then back. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” said Nairi, nodding at her. “It was good to get out of the house. I’ll text you later?”

“Sure,” said Linden, tone clipped, nodding. Across the table Edith was visibly laughing into her hand. “Later.”

Nairi headed towards the exit and Agatha, and behind her she heard Edith’s laughter suddenly rise in volume over the chatter.