#and the final cap is an aesthetic in itself

[isabelleneville]

@perioddramasource: Period Drama Appreciation Week 2024

day five | favourite aesthetic

R E N A I S S A N C E / E A R L Y M O D E R N C A T H O L I C I S M (as shown in The Borgias, The White Queen, The Tudors, Becoming Elizabeth, The White Princess and The Spanish Princess)

[dr-spectre]

honestly the only thing i wish now since team past won is that we don't get a great turf war game.

A more past based aesthetic sounds inherently cooler for a game no matter what people say.

I think i was being a little too harsh and mean towards Team Past and I was riding the high of the Grand Fest....

At the end of the day, what makes Splatoon's world so special is that it's world follows our time, a year passes in our world, a year passes over there. Stopping the timeline would be a bad idea and I think the developers know better. I have faith in them.

I dont think we're gonna get a great turf war game because Splatoon 4 was most likely already in pre-production before the Grand Fest, and they are just choosing what aesthetic to wrap the game in. They probably have a bunch of storylines planned out too and now they can get to work on the next game. That's just how game development works, especially Nintendo ones where gameplay is first and story is second.

The results of the final Splatfest of each game do make an impact but not THAT big of an impact. Callie vs. Marie decided who was gonna play the villain role in the next hero mode as they already placed down the set up for that story line in the songs Tide Goes Out and Bomb Rush Blush, as well as the Splatfest dialogue creating tension between the two.

Marie won so the developers gave Callie some angst, and she strolled down to Octo Canyon, said to good ol' Octavio "Hey I wanna be evil and stuff." And Octavio was like, "aight sick yo. But you gotta wear these hypnotic shades first tho." And Callie was like "COOL! :D"

Chaos vs. Order impacted what the next game was gonna look like aesthetic wise, and even then it's not as extreme as a lot of people envisioned. Splatsville is Inkopolis but basically... a little bit more chaotic and clearly not as wealthy of a city as Inkopolis. Deep Cut's aesthetics and personality were based on the theme of chaos, we would have probably gotten a three person Idol group regardless but what team won in Splatoon 2 impacted what they were gonna look like. The rest of Splatoon 3 is just regular ol' Splatoon. It's not a crazy Mad Max chaotic land like what some were expecting and that Inkopolis was gonna be up in smoke.

And, of course, the losing team was yet again the central theme of the villain, this time, the idea of Order itself and even then its different from how Callie vs. Marie played out. Marina becomes Marina Agitando at the start of the story to get it out of the way and to subvert expectations. And then the real villain, Overlorder takes centre stage.

I dont think we're gonna see the whole "losing team becomes evil" thing because its a tired old trope and it created so much just.... bullshit in the community, I'm gonna be so real. Like you know this already and my stances on Hypno Callie and what people say about her but... I digress!!

I wanna end off my rambles by saying that the best part of Team Past winning, is that Callie and Marie got to win TOGETHER! It feels like the perfect cap to their arcs and it feels... good.... you know? It just, makes me happy that these two girls are just finally happy and are on each other's wavelengths so well. They even show that in Blushing Tide but ive already gushed about that song.

I feel like thematically Team Past/Squid Sisters winning feels.... perfect? It feels... right? I guess? Starting off in darkness and hate, fighting each other, coming together after being reminded of the good times they've had, healing their broken bond, finally winning... as a team...

I think im taking the loss pretty well LMAO! I mean I was on the winning team of Chaos vs. Order so I'm perfectly fine with coming in second place.

[warden-melli]

So we know how big Melli is right? Well that just means that he has to eat either more or equal to what his stuntank eats. Also I think that Melli has burn scars/current burns due to working with things that will explode any minute and a ball of electricity that will shock him at any given moment that he disappoints it. Electric burn scars/fresh ones and straight(not in Melli's case) up burn scars from the explosions. I think that he hides them so that no one will see, which is why he's always covering up.

I’ve often thought about how expensive Melli would be to feed lol, especially in a place where food isn’t as easy to acquire and prepare like in modern times

And yes! Love this headcanon! I have very similar one actually. I think it would be pretty easy to look at a character like Melli and come to the conclusion that he’d be the type of person who wouldn’t like to get his hands dirty or put himself in any danger, but I disagree. He may appear foppish, but there’s many canon details that let us know that he’s not afraid of danger or physical exertion

To even perform his duties as warden, Melli must first frequently climb Mt Coronet, an extremely large and dangerous mountain, populated by extremely powerful and aggressive wild pokemon. Then after finally arriving at the hollow he has arguably the most dangerous job of any warden, taking care of Lord Electrode. Like you pointed out, out of all of the noble pokemon, Electrode is by far the most volatile. It’s also not alone up there, as we know it lives with a colony of voltorb too, so (again like you said) I think it would be extremely unlikely for him NOT to be scarred or burned in some capacity, wether that’s from just living in a wild place like Hisui, travelling up the mountain to perform his duties, or taking care of Lord Electrode itself, among other things. We also know he’s not scared of physical confrontation (he overpowered the security corps to get into the meeting) and he doesn’t shy away from battles either, choosing to investigate the mass outbreaks on his own. Melli seems to be in situations frequently where injuries seem extremely likely. I also think due to the frequent mountain climbing and the physically demanding job that is looking after lord Electrode, that Melli is likely more muscular and physically fit than most people would give him credit for, especially given his slim build and aesthetic.

I think the idea of him covering up to hide scars is an interesting one, but I’m not too sure Melli isn’t just freezing cold from working high up on a snow capped mountain lol. Apart from wearing his hood (which we do get to see down in the offical art book) he’s no more covered than most other wardens, and Hisui overall has quite a cool climate. It’s an interesting idea to explore though! I personally think it would be very interesting in that situation for him to hide scars not necessarily because he doesn’t like the look of them aesthetically, but because he’s worried that someone may see the scars and interpret that as a sign of a past failure, something that would be unbearable for someone who’s main goal in life is to be useful to his clan and it’s leader. Like, how great must the great Melli truly be if he allowed himself to become so carelessly injured in the line of duty? In reality I think it would be an irrational anxiety, and that they (scars) wouldn’t reflect poorly on his performance as warden at all, instead being a sign that he was actively engaging in his duties. To an insecure character like Melli whose image is an extremely curated defence used to mask his true shy/timid nature, any perceived threat to that persona would be very hard to manage, and I could see him going to the lengths of hiding his injuries in order to maintain his image. It’s a super interesting headcanon to think about, so thank you so much for sharing!

Oh btw have you ever heard of a Lichtenberg scar (caused after being struck by lightning)? Irl these don’t tend to be permanent, but I could absolutely see him having these after so much time working with dangerous electric type pokemon

(pic under the cut. It’s not graphic at all, just wanted to be safe)

[bomberqueen17]

progress etc

god it's less than a week to christmas. ok cool. yeah. great. all right.

i am. what have i been doing??? i don't know. I've sewn several things-- most notably a pair of leggings-- and the house renovations have progressed to the point that we're getting final measurements for counters tomorrow. I'll put pictures behind the cut. We painted the ceiling ourselves, as paint isn't included in the remodel.

I don't remember what I last posted pictures of. IDK there's a floor now, I didn't take pictures of that yet.

ok i was wrong i do have one photo of the floor but it's in-progress, max is in the background wedging it in between the cabinets.

[image description: an awkward angle looking down standing in the side door entryway, with the blue-washed gray side of a new cabinet facing me, some of the plywood subfloor exposed coated in glue, mottled gray fake stone tiles laid out and the hunched form of a man in a gray sweatshirt kneeling on the floor in the background with his head hidden behind the cabinet. Listen I wasn't trying to be creepy.]

it's fake stone vinyl tiles. i know, not normally my aesthetic, and it's probably the thing that'll look most dated in a little bit, but there was no point trying to do anything wooden or wood-look because the rest of the house has original hardwood from 1950 and anything new wouldn't match. (the hardwood badly needs refinishing, let's not contemplate that right at this juncture...)

Max is from Elmira, btw, and only moved to Buffalo a year ago-- just in time for the blizzard to absolutely destroy his first apartment here and wreck most of his stuff. It was a bit of a harsh welcome to the city. He's soft-spoken and extremely polite and doesn't really know how to talk to me, not the way Jim the installer (fiftysomething and very experienced) does. He did gently laugh at me when I left yesterday and then immediately had to come back to get my keys, which I had locked inside the house (but of course as he was still there the other door was still unlocked). "I grew up in the kind of place where you don't bother locking doors," I said, and he was like "lol same".

(I know Elmira because Middle-Little went to college there. It's a sort of dire little place in the Southern Tier-ish region of NY, a couple hours away. The region is fairly economically devastated, alternating crushing rural poverty with Tourism Dollars; Elmira itself boasts a college, a prison, and precious little else.)

Anyway-- painting the ceiling over the weekend, I discovered that the real life hack for painting a ceiling is for at least one member of your party to be six feet three inches.

[image description: my dude, a tall thin white man in an uncharacteristic ball cap he's only wearing to avoid paint splatter (it is embroidered with the HTML tags <head> on the front and </head> on the back, and was a gift to him in like 2002) is standing on the cardboard-and-sheet-draped floor of the kitchen using a paint roller on the ceiling, which he can reach easily; in front of him the cabinets are all draped in old sheets as well and there's a random light bulb sticking out because the installer wired that in for us to use as a work light since the electricians haven't installed the ceiling lights yet which was why it was an ideal time for us to paint said ceiling.]

Anyway it's going great. The counters won't go in until January sometime, but early January. The electricians plan to come the day after Christmas and I won't be there until the afternoon so I'm going to check in with Jim today about what they'll need.

Meanwhile, I remembered that I hadn't set myself the goal of crafting anything for Christmas except I bought a bunch of scarf blanks from Dharma Trading to dye as gift wraps and gift components and my basement is all torn apart and I don't dare make that kind of mess in my mother-out-law's basement so I need to work out how to get that done so I'm really kind of slogging through that, a bit.

OH i just went to look at what the last pictures I posted of the kitchen were and the answer is LIKE NONE so omg sorry here's before we painted the ceiling, where you can see what it's gonna look like!

[image description: This is View A, from the side door toward the front of the house. Along the left of the photo is a line of cabinets, a set on the ground and then another mounted up on the wall; in the middle of that will be the sink, and then farther down a dishwasher (!!!) and beyond that the stove, all along that north wall of the house. The middle of the photo is the big bay window we had installed, and there are cabinets along the front of it: the countertop will extend out from those, and will form a seating area. To the right of the window, the front door is now visible, that little wall having been removed and now being a wide-open space into the entryway. The right of the photo is the interior wall of the kitchen, now transformed into a built-in pantry space with a fridge hole in the middle, where the extra flooring tiles are currently stacked.]

[image description: this is View B, from the front door into the kitchen. The foreground is the big open space where the wall was removed; the bay window is just out of frame to the right, and the far wall shows the empty space (now containing buckets of floor glue and a roll of cardboard) where the stove will be, and above it will be an extractor hood (no more Everything Smells Like Salmon!!), and the empty space (now filled with a rolling garbage can the contractors are using) for the dishwasher, and then the little window right above the sink-- this is a detail we've kept from the old kitchen, that's where the sink was and that's where the window, but the window seems bigger because the cabinets aren't packed so tightly around it now-- and you can see the side door there, and then the left of the photo shows the edge of the pantry unit where the fridge will go.]

It's a much more open space, both of us can be in there, someone doing dishes while you cook is no longer the world-ending inconvenience it historically has been, and also now you can talk to someone in the living room while you're in the kitchen without needing to holler.

Yeah the gray cabinets are-- well they're pale wood washed with dilute blue, is what they are, and all the hard fixtures are in neutral shades like that, grays and gray-blues, and the countertops will be white with tiny sparkles, and the idea is that the big wall to the west and the little bits of wall around the windows will be painted some bold color we'll match with like throw rugs and hot mats and other changeable fixtures, so the kitchen can get "redecorated" with a new coat of paint and not clash with the hard fixtures. This job cost five figures, we're not re-redoing it during our lifetimes.

[orions-rays]

In honor of the second season of Arcane releasing in a couple months I have decided to finally rewatch the first season for the first time since it aired. And wow. This truly is a generational, era defining masterpiece of art.

I could spend all day talking about it, truth be told, as it’s practically perfect in every aspect, technically, writing wise, aesthetically and so forth. But to keep it concise I just want to talk about its strongest aspect which is its central thesis: how the parent shapes the child and the reverse of this.

There are, of course, the obvious examples like Vander and Vi, Silco and Jinx, but there are also the not so obvious ones where the figure does not necessarily even have to be a parent. Take the mysterious wizard who saves Jayce and his mother. Jayce did not know this person at all, yet it was witnessing this act of kindness that shaped his entire life and reason for living. He wanted to help others like that mysterious savior helped him. As Jayce’s father is not present within the series this wizard acts as a sort of stand in for impressing upon Jayce in a more subtle way as opposed to the season long arcs of Vander/Vi and Silco.

An interesting parallel to this scene is with Viktor. We know nothing about either of his parents, yet we still see a similar situation where he meets Singed for the first time. He attempts to reject it, and runs away both literally and metaphorically from the man and his beliefs. Yet years later he comes crawling back in desperation for his life, something Singed clearly has understood himself already. He gives him the words Viktor lives (or tries to live) by, “The mutation must survive.” Viktor views himself as a mutation of sorts, whether it be because of his debilitating disease or his intellect, still worthy of life regardless of the sacrifices he must make. He seemingly throws this mindset away at the end of the first season…yet, will he remain that way? Or will he come crawling back yet again to Singed’s beliefs and not make that mistake again?

Not only do we see how the parent, or mentor, affects the child, but we see the opposite through Silco. How, in any way, did this show get me to sympathize and feel bad for a homicidal crime lord who controls his subjects through rampant drugs and gambling? The answer is simple: his humanity betrayed him in the end. His grown love for Jinx/Powder overcame his cruelty and drive to use. The last scene where he sits near the statue of Vander and admits he was right is rather heartbreaking and a shocking turn for this character whom we have seen nothing but violence from previously. His quote to cap off the moment, “Is there anything so undoing as a daughter?” could work as summary of the series in of itself.

I am very curious to see how these themes are continued in the next season. Regardless of the choices made I know it will be great. Thanks Arcane for reinforcing my love of animation and art as a whole.

[roundseys]

Finally finished Anu's bio after fiddling around with the aesthetics forever !!

Accessible version of the bio below the cut. Wingdings, zalgo text, binary, morse code are all translated, and the untranslated portions are omitted for screen readers. Caps-locked text is moved to normal sentence case for readability.

[Image description: A circular icon of a simulation of the cosmic web, a sponge-like texture where areas of high density are a warm pinkish orange, and areas of low density are a deep purple.]

[Wingdings text, translated: "Anu, the Universe"]

The Eternal Cosmos, the World of Worlds

[Binary text, translated: creation and destruction and stagnation]

[Wingdings text, translated: boundless]

[Morse code text, translated: recognition reconstruction]

The Cosmos was infinite. The Cosmos was unfeeling. The Cosmos was ambivalent.

The very fabric of spacetime buckled and dipped and bent and curved. Strings of galaxies twisted and wove together to form one great tapestry. Nebulae bloomed and collapsed. Stars shone brightly before winking out. Ravenous black holes tore atoms apart.

Billions of years of this. It was all the same in the end. The Cosmos was infinite. The Cosmos was unfeeling. The Cosmos had seen it all before.

Yet still, a hunger grew deep down. Curled and tugged and churned; itching, burning, blazing. The cosmos became aware. The Cosmos became curious. The Cosmos had not seen this before.

The hunger pointed towards a planet. Nothing more than a small speck of dust. Insignificant, were it not for this novel feeling. The Cosmos watched and saw.

It saw petty wars and bloodshed. Anger, hatred, phobia of the unknown. Haste and desperation. Destruction of the self and mutilation of the other. Dragonkind and beastclans and the ones who came before. Unimportant beings clinging to old ways, trembling in fear of impermanence, blinded by ignorance as they were on that small rock, unable to touch the endless universe beyond. Bound by the limits of space and time, they knew nothing but the violence that their world had been born into.

But the Cosmos also saw great kindness. In this great pool of chaos, life had found its way towards connection and companionship. Parents hugging their children close, lovers embracing after long departed. Friends comforting friends. Strangers saving strangers. Communities congregating and growing together, voices raised in unison, plant roots weaving together, a hand held in another. Each creature connected to the next, each a part of a larger whole: a great web of life, strung together like galaxies in a supercluster.

In this single, small little rock, the Cosmos saw itself.

It made a decision. As this planet's lifeforms reflected the Cosmos, so too shall the Cosmos reflect them.

[Wingdings text, translated: bounded]

[Morse code text, translated: rebirth protector]

It began like how the cliffs of a canyon erode: particles of sand scattering in the breeze, falling away millimeter by millimeter over millions of years. It began like how a new forest grows from barren land: blades of grass reaching for the sun for the first time, giving way to shrubs and saplings, until ages later the grass is overshadowed by the arching bows of ancient trees. It began like how a spider weaves its web: string by string by string until a grand tapestry is born.

It began like all things do. It began slowly, a series of minuscule changes unseen in the larger structure, but changes nonetheless. It began with hydrogen atoms and charged particles ejected into the galactic wind. A slow trickle, molecule by molecule, drawing closer together over time.

Atoms and molecules gave way to gas and dust. Dark clouds of it clustering in the empty space. Instead of collapsing under its own gravity, it stretched its limbs out. Arms, legs, head and tail - a mimicry of what it had witnessed on that small planet. It wiggled its fingers and blinked its eyes and marveled at the sensation of a body.

It took on the form of a dragon. Hydrogen its circulatory system, stars its nervous system. Dust clouds condensed into muscle and bone. Nebulae bloomed into wings. Each heartbeat a supernova, each blink of the eye the spinning of a pulsar. Mathematical physics a mimicry of magic.

The planet was named Sornieth, and it had ensnared the Cosmos itself in its orbit. It had become the center of the Cosmos, the world of worlds. The Cosmos cradled the planet in the palms of its stardusted hands and vowed to protect it.

As long as Sornieth existed, so would Anu.

Cosmic web graphic by the Millennium Simulation Project (Springel et al. 2005)

That voice is the same voice you heard on the same night that everything glowed, took you into the air, and the arms of the Universe kept you from falling.

[splatsvilles-fashionista]

The most popular new gear of Splatoon 3 Drizzle Season 2022.

So at the beginning of April I posted a google docs poll with all of the 100+ new gear pieces introduced at the launch of Splatoon 3, intending to follow up on it a week later. Unfortunately, it didn't get much traction, only having 92 responses as of the time of writing. This made me a bit sad, so I just kind of forgot about it. That said, 92 responses are still something to work with, so let's take a look at them!

As a reminder, the poll let you pick multiple answers for each category, which makes the percentages look a bit weird if you just look at them in a vacuum. So when I give numbers now, keep that in mind.

That said, let's start by looking at Headwear! This is by far the spikiest category, meaning this is the category where votes were the most split. That said, eking out the number one spot by just one vote is...

The Cephalo Pods! (29.3%)

And yeah, I get it. A lot of headwear is very large and cover up a lot of your character, and often changes colors in a way you can't control. So why bother with that when you can just put these bad boys on to keep your look clean and simple? Not to mention, you start with these. They're one of your very first gear pieces!

After the Pods we come to a shared second place, as both of these have exactly 28.3% of the votes, and I think they have some things in common with the Pods, too.

The Ocho OctoPhones and the Teddy Band!

Note that neither of these cover up your head. A bit of a trend with the most popular gear in the poll in general. Headphones have always been very popular, and with that bright red, the gold highlights, and that sleek 8-design, these were sure to be a hit. I'm not surprised to see the Teddy Band so high up either, how can you say no to something that adorable? (Also I have to imagine there is some effort justification at play, considering just what you need to do to get them...)

Also, quick shoutout to the third, fourth and fifth place, which are all just one vote apart!

The Howdy Hat (26.1%), Retro BluFocals (25%), and the Bream-Brim Cap! (23.9)

Now, let's move on to Clothes, which looks very different from Headwear in terms of how the votes are spread out. This is also by far the biggest category, so it's natural that the votes would be more evenly spread, but there are still a couple of clear favourites here, and none are more obvious than the number one, which is...

The Orca Bolero! (33.7%)

That's right, a whole third of all votes included the Orca Bolero. I can't say I am that surprised, though, Toni Kensa has been one of the most popular brands ever since their introduction in the second game. Their stark black-and-white aesthetic actually mixes really well with the bright ink colors on display in turf wars, and they pull on a lot of real-life fashion trends I think really resonate with a lot of Splatoon's audience.

In second place, we actually have another shared spot, but it's a pretty steep drop compared to the Orca Bolero, all the way down to 26.1% each.

The Annaki Choker Tee and the Patchwork Bomber!

Outside of the Pearlescent Hoodie, we don't get a lot of accessories in Splatoon, and I think this alone gives the Annaki Choker Tee a lot of appeal. The shirt itself isn't half bad either, with a slick Annaki logo over a really nice dusty red.

That said, I will admit I don't quite get the Patchwork Bomber. It's a real messy piece, mixing colors and materials in a way I can only describe as bold, but I have to imagine that's the point. If you voted for the Patchwork Bomber, please sound off in the comments! I'd love to hear why you like it so much.

Finally, let's take a look at Shoes! This is by far the most even category for the most part, but it has a couple of large standouts, including the single most popular gear piece in the entire season by an enormous margin...

The Punk Pinks! (50%)

That's right, fifty percent. Half of all votes in the shoes category included the Punk Pinks. And I don't blame anyone, honestly. This is a new version of maybe the single most popular shoe model in the entire series, and they're pink! These were a surefire hit, and the results show.

The second place is behind with a whole ten votes, but it still holds a dominant position of its own in the category with a whopping 39.1%:

The Pearl 01STERs!

These aren't my cup of tea, personally, but I absolutely understand why people like these. They're really big and bulky and overdesigned, and if you like that then these are perfect for you.

After that, there is an enormous drop, all the way down to 23.9% with the Red Hammertreads. These are just some cool punk boots, with leather straps all over. I'm honestly surprised we haven't gotten more of these yet, because with a name like "Red Hammertreads" it sure seems like they're setting it up.

And that's it for Drizzle Season 2022! Next up is Chill Season 2022, and we've not thankfully gotten to more manageable numbers of new apparel. So manageable in fact that going forward I can actually fit them into a tumblr poll, so stay tuned for that!

[evitcani-writes]

Restored Conklin Slim Pocket Crescent Filler from 1923

Here’s my process of restoring it! I didn’t take great before pictures, but it wasn’t in great shape (and certainly didn’t work).

Below the cut is the original state and my process of restoration.

Original State

It came with a cracked and scuffed lid. The lid was pretty fragile. Light pressure would likely break it. The crescent and nib are 14k gold and the body was pretty “sunburnt” ebonite. The filler sac had melted and the shellac had calcified.

Process

First was a LOT of cleaning. By hand, sanding off the white… stuff from the lid. Then a lot of rounds of a hypersonic cleaning before everything was ready.

The ebonite needed re-dyed. I decided to go for a matte black and went the route of using Black 3.0 in light layers. Once completed, I painted the engraved letters to match the nib and crescent which was tricky.

On the lid, I used UV resin on the crack to strengthen it. Then sanded it mostly flat. It got the same treatment as the body with coats of Black 3.0.

I left everything to dry after spraying a coat of protectant. After another round of UV protective sealant and drying, everything was reassembled.

Attaching a new sac was interesting. As the shellac used in attaching latex ink sacs had calcified, I began a process of carefully whittling away each layer of old latex until I reached the ebonite feed tube. Finally got to that satisfying cinch of dropping the tube onto the feed tube and testing it worked.

Writes great! Has some feedback, but is very flexy. Fun to write with.

What the Process Should Look Like

If you can't tell, I'm not an expert at this. I don't know how well this will hold up to wear. The cap cracked in the same place when I screwed it on. I'll have to fix it again, but it doesn't affect the function of the pen, the ink has stayed pretty wet.

Many people think re-dyeing the ebonite to any capacity is hurting a historical object. I went this route so as to bring the pen in line with my own aesthetic (and its original state) while also being temporary and harmless to the pen itself. The paint and sealant can be easily peeled away without taking off the UV affected layer of ebonite (something which could cause significant harm).

I also used a lot of hypersonic cleaning to avoid having to use brushes which could harm the ebonite. The objective was preservation while wanting to keep the pen used as it was intended to be.

And what a beautiful little pen I've found in this one. Nothing writes quite like it except a dip pen. The tines flex beautifully, able to create wide pathways and sharp points in a moment while still easily writing as well as any rollerball for quick notes.

If you manage to get your hands on one, I urge you to consider restoration. They are beautiful little things, made to last. Plenty of videos on youtube can walk you through restoring the ink sacs.

[imakemywings]

A Cup Always Half-Empty

Fandom: The Silmarillion

Pairing: Maglor/Thranduil

Characters: Maglor, Thranduil

Summary: Maglor wishes he could want less.

Rated: M (mild sexual content)

De-anon of this kink meme prompt

AO3 (with aesthetic playlists) | Pillowfort

____________________________________________________

           Maglor recalled a poem from his youth about a monkey who was filled with wanting. Whatever was out of his grasp, the monkey desired more than life itself. Once he was possessed of the thing he had desired, it was meaningless—his attention was already on the next unattainable thing with which he was convinced he would at last obtain eternal happiness.

           He had written a melody for this miserable primate, a tune of reaching and falling, of perpetual dissatisfaction, but he could not decide on the ending. An empty death after a life of useless yearning, a life wasted in pursuit of happiness never attained? Or some final thing that at last granted the monkey the happiness that had eluded him—a subtle nod to the monkey’s perspective?

           Never able to decide which path to take, Maglor had written one of each, and usually ended the song before he reached the final theme. He did so presently, allowing a suitable pause before he took up his guqin to begin a new piece. The crowd tonight was made up mainly of middling government officials. A few highborn guests lounged about, blowing trails of pipe smoke up towards the painted ceiling and lending the venue an air of added glitz. On the screens behind Maglor, vibrant branches of cherry blossom arced and the whispering creek, directed through the hall from the yard, which curved in front of the stage, gave him something of the appearance of being in nature as he played. To aid in the performance, he wore hairpins shaped into silver leaves, which stood out neatly against his dark hair, and perfumed himself with jasmine.

           He had never understood stage fright. Even when he played at his most raw, laying his heart out at the feet of his audience, he found it a comfort that someone was there to listen. That someone should hear his laments! All the better if they found them beautiful.

           And lately, Maglor Feanorion was full of laments.

***

           The path of musician and entertainer was not one that would have been open to the son of a wealthy man. Fortunately, then, Maglor had thought on many a wry occasion, he was no longer the son of a wealthy man.

           His name had garnered him attention in the beginning, but now it was his music that did it, and Maglor preferred it that way. (Not that he quibbled with the boost he’d gotten earlier.)

           There was a slightly untidy porch around the west side where Maglor might sit and practice, and from there he could see one of the smaller roads weaving in towards the center of town. Down this road sometimes passed a particular government official, whom Maglor could always spot at a distance by his golden hair, tucked up under his plain black cap which marked out his profession.

           Most others preferred the front porch, which faced a busier road, and thus put them more on display (both to see and be seen)—and Maglor had too, until recently.

           He had to lift his head to see above the fence-line and could catch only the slightest glimpse of yellow hair from where he sat, but he would still sit and play there in the early morning chill in hopes of a sighting of his quarry.

           It was a lucky day that day—he spotted what he sought and for a moment his bow danced all the more vigorously across his strings as he watched the Elf pass over this one dusty stretch of road before vanishing behind the laundry house next door. He saw a flash of a neatly-curved ear and a split-second view of a noble profile and when the object of his yearning had passed, Maglor sank back onto his cushion, setting aside his instrument to lay haphazard across the porch floor, the beads in his hair clattering quietly with the motion. His heart beat more quickly in his chest. His face felt warm. The only thing that could have made it better, he thought, were if Thranduil had turned to look at him.

***

           Maglor was relieved he no longer had to fight so hard to keep his hands steady when he poured their tea. It hadn’t been terribly long ago when the thought of a meeting like this gave him such excitement he found it difficult to contain himself. Now, there was more normalcy to it and he was able to pour Thranduil’s tea without spilling a drop or untidying his long sleeves and pass it to him unsweetened, as he preferred.

           They began their drink in silence. They usually did. Maglor had found that if he did not provide the conversation, Thranduil was content to sit for interminable lengths in silence. Sometimes, this was acceptable—Maglor might sit and study the line of his jaw, the vibrant green of his eyes, the elegant fall of his lashes—but as soon as he came back to himself, he squirmed in the silence, unable to brook it without breaking it.

           He smoothed back a loose lock of hair—perpetually seeking to escape from his updos—and tilted his head at such an angle as to put his beaded earrings on display against his neck.

           “It’s been some time since I saw you last,” he said demurely. He had worked for many days on saying this in a way that sounded neither petulant nor aggrieved.

           Thranduil was silent, looking impassively down into his teacup as the steam wafted up about his face. It had taken Maglor time to understand the silence was often a prelude to an answer, if he could only find the patience. Thranduil rarely spoke without thoroughly considering his words first, whereas Maglor struggled not to vomit out every thought that entered his head.

           “I was traveling,” he said quietly at last, and Maglor turned fully towards him, balancing his cup artfully in one hand.

           “Did you bring me a gift?” he teased, batting his eyelashes in a way he believed was charming. He bit his lower lip when his answer was a tense quiet, trying to read the thoughts behind Thranduil’s stone face. No luck—Thranduil could’ve made a gifted courtier with a poker face like that.

           Rather than speak, Thranduil reached into the folds of his simple, clean-cut robe and withdrew a small bird of carved wood. He pushed it across the table. Maglor’s eyes widened.

           “For…me?” he asked. Thranduil nodded and lifted his teacup. Maglor picked up the bird and turned it over. She had her wings extended and the details of her beak and tail were present despite the small size of her.

           “It’s a white-winged lark,” Thranduil murmured around his tea.

           “Oh!” said Maglor, who knew nothing of birds or fauna or flora of any kind. He had never been the outdoorsy type, to put it nicely. “It’s beautiful,” he said, biting his lip again. “Are you sure you don’t want—?”

           “I carved it on the ride there,” Thranduil said at the same time Maglor began his question.

           “Oh! You made it?” Maglor re-examined the bird with new interest. Thranduil nodded, setting his teacup down. He kept both hands wrapped firmly around it, which was not very elegant, but Maglor was delighted, as he viewed this slight uncouthness as a reminder of Thranduil’s more common birth, and anything Maglor was permitted to know of Thranduil’s past and present delighted him. “I shall find her a suitable place of honor then,” said Maglor, putting the bird gently down on the table.

           “I’m sure that isn’t necessary,” said Thranduil.

           “It is,” Maglor insisted. “I should like to see her often.”

           Thranduil made a non-committal noise and lifted his teacup again, but before he left he said: “If you like it so much, perhaps I will bring you another.”

           When Maglor smiled, he knew it was too broad, showing too much tooth, but he couldn’t help himself.

           “Yes,” he breathed. “Yes, she should have a companion.”

***

           Any society had to have its rules. Maglor did not concern himself overmuch with most of them and found the great majority dull as dirt, but there was one that was of late causing him a great deal of trouble. It was never something he had considered much before, but now he thought of little else. The law was this:

           It was forbidden for a musician or entertainer to marry with a public official.

           It wouldn’t do for servants of the government to be bound to those with careers of such ill-repute, after all. And if Maglor was a bit free with his physical affections, did that reflect on the profession as a whole?

           It wasn’t about the law, though. It was Maglor—he wanted too much. Always reaching for something he couldn’t have, never satisfied with what he did have. Whomever had written the poem about the monkey had never understood, he thought, what it was to want something so much. And what bliss! What beautiful ignorance! To know nothing of the kind of want that gnawed at your bones and rent at your heart and suffocated you with your own feelings. Maglor wished he did not know this want more desperate than thirst.

           He had tried to convince himself to be content with less. In the beginning, Thranduil had been only an unusually pretty face among the crowd of people that ebbed and flowed around Maglor. Then, he had told himself he was pleased enough simply to talk with him now and again. Friendship, surely, would sate him! But when coaxing Thranduil into his bed did not abate Maglor’s desire, he knew nothing would. He could lay among the covers, watching sidelong the rise and fall of Thranduil’s chest as he dozed, and ache, and ache. None of it was enough. Until he could sleep and rise in Thranduil’s house, sit himself at Thranduil’s table, introduce himself as Thranduil’s husband, he would not be content.

           Maglor wept for the monkey and the fire that burned in him, and wept again because no one understood it. When the monkey died at last, those around him thought him merely greedy and discontent. They did not understand. They did not understand what a curse it was to want a thing.

***

           Nevertheless, Maglor sought such temporary joy as he could. When he had Thranduil naked abed with him, loose and languid from their lovemaking, his other fears and longings seemed to recede slightly, allowing him a little more room to breathe.

           Maglor drew his fingers up Thranduil’s bare sternum, passing by the sparrow tattooed on his ribcage, up to the stars inked below his collarbone. There was a faint purple mark blooming on the right side of his chest, which Maglor realized with flushed pleasure had been left by his own mouth.

           “You must take me with you next time you leave the city,” he said, blinking slowly at his companion. Thranduil’s pale gold hair was unbound and spilled out over Maglor’s pillows. Later, Maglor would press his face into that pillow and breathe in the smell of him that lingered.

           “I hope not to leave again,” said Thranduil with a faint frown. He did not care much for travel. He did not care much for the city either, but that was where his work was. Once, after too many cups of huangjiu, Thranduil had, with uncharacteristic volubility, spun him a tale of the forested countryside where he originated—the lush green hills, the constant rustle of trees, the hoot and call of forest life. It was almost enough to make Maglor forget how much he hated being out in nature.

           Maglor gathered Thranduil would prefer to return there, to the vast forests of his home province, if it were an option.

           “I would make a most charming travel companion, I assure you,” Maglor continued as if he hadn’t spoke, smiling as he eased in nearer along Thranduil’s side. “I promise I should never let you grow bored! Think of what a fine time you would have, with me to sing you all the way to the next imperial city.”

           Thranduil made a noncommittal, yet some how wry, sound in the back of his throat, and carded a hand up through Maglor’s thick, dark hair. His dull nails scraped gently against Maglor’s scalp, and Maglor shut his eyes, nearly purring at the touch.

           “Perhaps I shall just send you in my place,” Thranduil said. “If you are so keen to spend several days in a carriage.” Maglor laughed and sat up, earrings rattling as he swung a leg over Thranduil to straddle his lap.

           “Make me your secretary?” he asked with a grin, laying his palms against the solid muscle of Thranduil’s chest. “I will write all your missives in verse. Think what a delight that will be!”

           Thranduil caught Maglor’s face between his hands and pulled him down for a kiss, startling an undignified sound from Maglor’s lips before he melted into the kiss.

           “As if I would ever trust you to note-take,” said Thranduil when he released him. “Your mind wanders more than a river has curves.” Maglor drew up in mock affront.

           “I am most diligent in things to which I apply myself!” he said.

           “There is nothing you have ever applied yourself to outside of music,” Thranduil returned.

           “I have found nothing else worthy of my undivided attention,” Maglor sniffed. He paused. He dug his nails slightly into Thranduil’s chest. “Well. Almost nothing.”

           Thranduil had a tell, when he was embarrassed. The mistake was in watching his face. The key was the ears. His delicately-pointed ears would flush with pleasure or embarrassment long before anything showed in his expression, and learning this had given Maglor the understanding that he flustered Thranduil more than he had ever guessed, before.

           “I have told you before…I am an artist,” he said smoothly, leaning forward. “I cannot concern myself with base things like note-taking or numbers. I have time only for what is truly remarkable.” He stroked a hand down Thranduil’s chest and watched those deep green eyes with a half-lidded look.

           “I should apologize for wasting your time then,” said Thranduil. This was their dance—Maglor laid overwrought compliments on Thranduil, who twisted and writhed about to feign Maglor had not meant to compliment him.

           “You should apologize for not taking more of it,” Maglor dared.

           “I have time left yet,” said Thranduil, running a hand up Maglor’s thigh. “Perhaps you wish to sing me another song?” The look in his eyes assured Maglor he did not refer to one of Maglor’s verses (it was he who had termed Maglor’s noises between the sheets singing), and he fell on Thranduil among the silk sheets and Thranduil’s arms went about him, and Maglor was loved, for a time.

***

           The moon bathed the garden in pale light, turned green to black, and blue to silver. There was a faint breeze that stirred the trees and the grasses, whispering in Maglor’s ears. His long robes pooled around him on the deck and behind him, through the half-open door and behind the paper of the door, warm candlelight flickered.

           Thranduil knelt beside him on the wood. He was by too often; Maglor knew that. If he were less selfish, he would send him away, or tell him not to come so much. Married they were not, but tongues still wagged, and Maglor would wither to see Thranduil punished for Maglor’s sake.

           “I remain, as always, wed to my art,” Maglor was saying theatrically, placing a hand over his chest. “Anything else gets difficult, you see.”

           “I should hardly think you have a dearth of admirers,” Thranduil said, a sentiment he had hinted at before. Maglor nibbled the inside of his cheek as Thranduil’s eyes quickly darted away.

           “Of a sort,” Maglor said indecisively.

           “What sort?” Thranduil asked. His eyes were on Maglor again.

           “A…shallow sort,” Maglor answered reluctantly. Thranduil went on looking at him. “The…types who are interested in me are…well, they have little overlap with the ones looking for long-term commitment,” he said with a laugh that came out shakier than he meant it to. Blast.

           Thranduil frowned.

           “I’m sure that’s not all true,” he said.

           Maglor picked at the blue hem of his robe.

           “One doesn’t wish to overpay for a thing,” he murmured at last.

           “Overpay?” Thranduil echoed, his brow knitting. “What do you mean by that?”

           Maglor twisted the hem around his fingers.

           “Only that all things have a value, don’t they?” he said. “And one does not wish to sacrifice more than is warranted by that value to obtain the thing.”

           “You are not a trinket at the market,” said Thranduil with such heat that Maglor turned his whole head to look at him. There was a flush across Thranduil’s pale cheeks and he saw Thranduil’s hand fisted in his lap. “We are not speaking of barterable goods.”

           Maglor shrugged nervously and picked at his robe.

           “But for many, that is how the world is,” he said gently. “Everything with a value. Everything with a price. Everything a bargain.” Winners and losers. Things gained, things lost.

           “If someone has told you so, they are a liar most cruel,” Thranduil said with some tremor in his voice as a string pulled too taut. “There are more things in life which cannot be so valued, with numbers and columns and comparisons. And you—you are.” Thranduil shook his head. “An Elf of surpassing beauty and remarkable talent, and anyone so greedy as to benefit of these things without giving to you in return lacks not only honor, but decency.” He spoke with unusual rush.

           Maglor was trembling. He hoped the light was too low for Thranduil to see.

           “You’re too kind,” he whispered, a stock response which managed still to rise to his lips, even then.

           “No. I am not,” said Thranduil. “This is true, Maglor. And if there are those who would make you think you are not—worthy­—then it is only because they wish to have a bargain for themselves, and take without having to show you the respect and treatment which you deserve.”

           Maglor the mighty-voiced, Maglor the gold-cleaver, Maglor whose voice was like the sea could not speak. He had no words.

           “You despair too soon, I think,” Thranduil added in a much softer voice, his face tilted slightly down, his eyes still on Maglor’s. “You have time yet. Let no one tell you it has passed. One day there will—there will be some Elf to take you to husband as you should have, as you wish to have. And they will be glad to know you kept looking for them.”

           Maglor could not see him clearly anymore for the tears in his eyes. He swallowed hard around the painful lump in his throat, trying to keep his breathing steady.

           “Thranduil,” he said, muscles tense, on the verge of flinging himself into Thranduil’s arms. Thranduil’s hand was still in his lap and Maglor wished so desperately that Thranduil would place it on Maglor’s knee, or over his hand, or against his cheek. If Thranduil touched him, Maglor would give in: he quivered at the thought.

           “Do not undervalue yourself,” Thranduil said. “I care not to hear my friends spoken ill of. Even by themselves. You have done nothing to earn it.”

           Maglor swallowed again, trying to blink the tears surreptitiously from his eyes.

           “I will try,” he said thickly, wondering if he could slip inside to find a handkerchief out of earshot. He attempted a wobbly smile. “Whatever you think, I believe your words are kind, and it soothes my heart to hear them.” Almost as much as it set his inside aflame with agony of desire.

           Then, only then, when the danger had passed, did Thranduil reach for him, and lightly touch Maglor’s hand, and Maglor looked up and smiled with more surety as the passions of his heart cooled and came more under his control once again.

           “You have been a good friend to me,” Maglor said. “I would that you know how much I treasure that. I know my position makes it difficult.” Thranduil’s eyes moved away and his hand began to draw back.

           “I meant nothing by it,” he murmured. “I have only done as I wished.”

           Ah, but did he not see! Did he not see the kindness in that? That he was kind to Maglor because he wished to be, and for no other reason?

           “Then it means all the more, for I have traded nothing for it,” Maglor said, with something nearer to a true smile, for all his hands still had a tremor.

           “I would take nothing for it,” said Thranduil, looking back at him.

           “You have too much honor for that, Thranduil,” said Maglor with a lightly teasing note. “That is part of what I like about you.” Breathing deeply, he rose to his feet to shed the last of that terrible moment of near-truthfulness. “Come back inside. Let me boil another pot of tea. Will you take another cup before you go?”

***

           Maglor was doomed to perish of longing for things that could never be his. Facedown he lay among his red silk sheets, his hair in disarray with a mahogany and jade pin sticking out haphazardly from his unbrushed locks, and thought to expire of the pain in his chest.

           He could have tried to choke it out of himself. He could have sent Thranduil away, taken no more visits from him, even moved towns. He could have cut this Sinda out of his life and tried to excise the pain and desire which Thranduil woke in him.

           But he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Refused. No—Maglor would rather have the pain than deny himself the feeling. It was not in him to deny his own feelings.

           I love you, he wept silently, hands fisted in his fat pillows. The smells of Thranduil’s last visit had faded out. I love you, I love you, I love you.

           Did it matter that Maglor lived a life of relative privilege, with a roof over his head and meals on his table and fine clothes and dozens of instruments at his fingertips? Not a whit—he wanted Thranduil. Would he have been just as miserable to be poor and longing? He thought the answer was yes.

           The notes of aching need Maglor called up on his strings played through his mind and laying in bed, he re-wrote the end of the monkey’s song. Happy ending—as if there could be happiness for one who wanted so intensely! The monkey was wretched. Even if he had the last thing he desired, he would dream up a new thing to want. There was no end. The monkey was a bottomless well, doomed never to be filled, never to have enough.

           He reached for the carven lark which he had left beside his bed the night before and ran his fingers over the smooth wood. He had asked Aredhel about it. Larks, she said, were usually plain birds. They were more remarkable for their beautiful and varied songs.

           Clutching the bird in his fist, he buried his face in a pillow again, too weary to weep any more lovelorn tears.

           In the evening he was due to play for a city administrator’s feast. It was a great honor for a musician to be recommended. By then, Maglor would have painted on a smiling face, with a hint of coyness about the eyes and a subtle cloud of floral perfume around him. He would fix his hair up with gems and combs of fine ivory or painted wood. For now, he allowed himself his blotchy cheeks and red eyes and pathetic, wobbling frown as he rose up from the sleeping mat and went to his desk for his pen and paper.

If he was going to make his laments known to the world, he would do it in a suitable way to make everyone in attendance weep along with him and ache for Maglor’s aches and hurt for Maglor’s hurts: to make them see the beauty of his suffering. That would have to be comfort enough.

[teamwsmf]

Surprise Stabtober #1: Critical Failure

@surprisestabtober

Day 1 Prompt: Critical Failure

Ridill Arondite was a scientist. Before she was a hero, a mentor, a lover, a fighter, she was a scientist.

And in the field of science, trial and error is a necessity for progress! Maybe that was a big part of why Ridill loved science; she got paid real money to fuck around and find out with stuff! Ridill did that anyways, so the only difference was the paycheck she got for doing it. Well, her salary was frequently docked due to the accidents and damages she accrued in the process, but twenty bucks is still enough for the month’s groceries! And, in a professional lab, there is more to protect you from any stray explosions than the makeshift wooden barricades that would contribute to her childhood injuries. Now, some people would argue “there should be no explosions in the lab in the first place”, but those people are prudes and narcs, and Ridil Arondite does not need any narcs in her life!

Before the people she loved slipped away, before saving the world became so much more complicated than fighting Demons and Coda diving, before her life became just another piece in the cosmic game, Ridill Arondite was a scientist. It was hard work, but she enjoyed it. Maybe a little too much, to be honest.

To facilitate Ridill’s personal projects, she almost always had a private place where she could perform recreational experiments in her spare time. In the later days of Station One, Ridill had fashioned a makeshift lab where she would perform “Private Science” out of one of the few unoccupied rooms at the base. In some back room in the recesses of the station, somewhere between the janitor’s closet and the armory, there was a small enclosure that Ridill affectionately called her “Science Closet”. It was a small enclosure, mostly decorated with abandoned ribbons from a previous birthday party, probably Ruth’s given the distinct crimson color, and a half-ripped canvas poster from some indie band, “Deaf Leopard”.

Ridil still remembered Ruth’s birthday celebration, as they had held it in secret as part of some long-forgotten bit, but Ridill had since forgotten what had led to said bit. Since then, nobody had taken the time to tear them down, and Ridill had never reminded herself to do it before she started lighting burners or mixing acids.

The only source of light in the room was an antique silver candelabra Ridill bought from a pawn shop in the Undercity, something she had bought solely to reinforce her personal aesthetic of “deranged scientist meddling with the natural order for personal gain”. She really liked that candelabra. And now, at some time between 1 in the morning and the reasonable waking hours of everyone else in the base, Ridill was messing with something in her dimly lit Science Closet, illuminated by three candles and a dream.

On a small wooden desk, practically little more than two bedside tables put together, there are two bunsen burners, each burning with a focused and luminescent flame under two separate test tubes. Ridill leaned over one of the open tubes and smelled the dark fumes emanating from it. As she put a cap on the tube, she mused aloud on the odor.

“Hm, this batch smells a little different. The last batch was more like vanilla frosting, but this is kind of like, a, uh…”

She pondered the odor for a while. At this point, she was more committed to identifying the closest matching scent for this experimental liquid than she was concerned about the liquid itself. The soft roiling of a viscous liquid, having reached a roiling boil behind her back, went unnoticed as she paced around the closet.

“It smells like…”

The fluid behind her began to boil over the fringes of the tubes. The sizzling of an unknown liquid touching the flame grew louder, but Ridill’s focus was squarely lodged into identifying what it smelled like. Finally, she reached her conclusion…

“Gunpowder!”

She pointed her finger upwards, as if to punctuate her point to no one in particular. She was very proud of her discovery. The D20 rolls... Natural 1.

And then, it fucking exploded.

In her attempt to determine what had resulted from her recreational science, Ridill had neglected to turn down her burners. And by the time she had identified the substance, it was too late. Ruth, Willow, and several other members of OPIA stationed at the base were rudely awakened by the blaring claxon of fire alarms. It took them a while to find the Science Closet, panicking and running around the base the whole time. Luckily, Ridill was mostly unharmed in the brief explosion, as her back had been turned to the blast at the time, and her lab coat was miraculously resilient.

To this day, Ridill has not talked about that incident with anyone, even Ruth or Willow. The embarrassment of the whole ordeal would overwhelm her if she shared it to anyone, and she made Ridill and Ruth swear to secrecy. God forbid if Ace ever found out about the incident, lest it give him even more ammunition for his metaphorical Shame Gun.

In the end, Ridill tried to identify a smell and ended up destroying her Science Closet. A failure of critical proportions, indeed.

[busstop-on-cornelia]

Ok, 1989tv is HERE and, as promised, there are thoughts (and observations). The songs of course slap, but this is about things that are NEW. New observations and red-string thoughts.

RAINBOWS:

Style has rainbow colored rain on the pavement.

Out Of The Woods: ���screaming color” flashes rainbow, but so does “oh I remember” before the final chorus

I Wish You Would: rainbows pulsing in circles around the lyrics of its bridge. The light swooshes are white with rainbows. Also the thing is made of blue and pink and purple accents and words (bi colors).

How You Get The Girl: the whole thing. Multicolored and rainbowed up.

There’s a TON of galaxy/celestial imagery. The men’s faces in I Know Places are starry, the moon is everywhere (specifically in the Out Of The Woods video), Wonderland, AYHTDWS, IWYW, and SIO (to a smaller extent). Additionally, there’s a lot of eyes turning into galaxies (Clean, AYHTDWS).

Storms where you wouldn’t expect them: the road in Style and the bridge, and the background in New Romantics.

Out Of The Woods: LOVE the video. I’m down with those wolf and moon t-shirts, and this video is like that brought to life with some paparazzi/media frenzy symbolism. Gorgeous video—one of my faves.

New Romantics: the song itself inspired by the New Romantics movement (itself based on denying you were a part of it), which was known for its gender-fuckery and queer similarities. This video shows the lyrics on an art-deco stage in bisexual lighting—which I’m not saying is a reference to how many queer people are in the entertainment industry and the arts, but it could be.

Say Don’t ago is SOO FUCKING GOOD YOU GUYS. It’s like if Clean and AYHTDWS had a baby.

Now That We Don’t Talk: she “can’t pretend it’s platonic” and kept herself “shrouded in mystery” to “protect [her] dignity.” Sounds very much like closeting. Also, her ex grew out their hair—something men can do, but something Taylor’s exes haven’t really done. And Harry had longer hair while they were dating.

Suburban Legends: filled with high school references, and the very notion of living a suburban is such a small-town, high-school-sweethearts things. Very Dianna coded with the Glee-ness of it all.

Is It Over Now? sounds a little like Labyrinth and OOTW; also, Tay mentions having the “decency” to “keep her nights hidden,” which also sounds very closeting-coded.

Over all:

The sound is fairly faithful to the original, but the guitars sound a little wonky, like too bright and synthy. Less warm and like someone noodling around, and more like an electric guitar someone forgot to plug in. However, I can look past that. I appreciate they kept the synth riffs at the end of the HYGTG chorus, though.

The production on the Vault Tracks sounds much more Midnights than 1989–glossy new production that sounds a little unpolished.

She’s really leaned into an 80s vaporwave aesthetic with some videos—SIO, IWYW, New Romantics.

The visuals are just gorgeous—all these videos with dynamic, high-quality video. And a lot of more obscure/artsy visuals, too.

I love the album (obvs, 1989 is one of my old faves). Some do the vault tracks I wasn’t too keen on, but I’ll have to listen more than once to form a proper opinion.

To close out:

[limelocked]

"They have insurance," that's all I said to my former teammates, "life insurance, more specifically"

"You joined the side of evil for insurance?!" screamed the mom friend who acted just like the woman who won custody over my family.

"Sure? I joined the side of good for insurance too, I told you that a while ago. Health and dental, sure, but life insurance is useful if you dare to have such a thing as next of kin while working hard risking your life. That's why I don't really want to kill half of you, I know only cap and vice cap have coverage"

"What?" vice captain Amelia asked, and bless her ignorant rich girl heart because I do think she was unaware of this fact. "That's not true!"

The battlefield was deeply and uncomfortably quiet.

"I also don't struggle with rent anymore," I said, because the silence of heroes who have to recon with the realization that they're just poorly payed mercenaries with a justice complex isn't one I wanted to steep in further, "I actually own my own place now, some people helped me with the mortgage but it's mine so I only have to worry about the power and water more or less"

"Why are you telling us this?" Kyle, a healer without insurance who just 6 months ago was deluding himself into thinking that a wage two dollars higher than mine made his services in the hero industry worth it in comparison to what he could've gotten as a health provider in some other country where they didn't have bullshit laws about healing magic in medicine. Kyle was also good enough to work in most blue collar jobs, but had exactly the same amount of problems getting a second job as I had.

"They also trained me, some of the other villains do classes in their off time, and since I have cash to burn I've been thinking of taking classes- WHY DO YOU THINK I'M TELLING YOU THIS?!" I'm sick and tired of this. "Three people who could drop dead right this second from my awesome attack that kills people, and their families would get an I'm sorry for your loss and maybe your last paycheck if they're lucky! Two people who still live with their families because the job doesn't pay enough for rent! One person who does live in their own place but can't afford utilities during winter! One little princess who's just doing this as a justice fueled hobby, and her boyfriend who's paid enough that he can have the luxury of not thinking that the rest of his team might not be"

I stood there, on top of a ruined wall, aesthetically lit by the moon for the best effect of breaking their spirits into dust. They stood there, looking up at me, no longer in hurt and betrayal but with confusion and a new sort of horror dragging itself to the forefront.

"Still! We can't let you get away with this!-" the captain had done such a good job steeling himself.

"Shut up captain." to be so effortlessly be eviscerated by his own ranks.

"Frankly," I continued, "my honest recommendation is to either switch sides or fake your deaths. You could probably also flee to another country and take up the job at some place that actually pays enough to eat" I could see them dropping their stances, the power of friendship that was propping up the captain had also faltered.

"Then I'll be going" I said finally, turning around "my job was to crush the factory, not you guys, so I'm getting payed no matter what"

I gained a healer to my team within a month, two other heroes were reported dead soon after and their families were moved over the sea.

You are a superhero who joined a team for pay and benefits. However, the pay is minimum wage since you have no education and they made it so you are blackballed in the civilian world so you can’t work there either. So imagine their surprise when you joined the villain’s team.

[scentsplit]

Sophisticated and Feminine: The Allure of Portrait of a Lady Perfume

Frédéric Malle's Portrait of a Lady perfume is a masterpiece in the world of fragrance, renowned for its complex and captivating aroma that embodies elegance, sophistication, and timeless beauty. Created by renowned perfumer Dominique Ropion, this fragrance has become an icon in the niche perfume industry, captivating the senses of fragrance enthusiasts worldwide.

Whether you're a seasoned perfume aficionado or new to the world of fragrance, here's your comprehensive guide to Frédéric Malle's Portrait of a Lady.

The Scent Profile:

Portrait of a Lady opens with a burst of vibrant spices, including cinnamon and cloves, that tantalize the senses with their warm and exotic aroma. As the fragrance develops, a rich bouquet of roses emerges, enveloping the wearer in a cloud of velvety floral sweetness.

Patchouli, sandalwood, and incense add depth and complexity to the composition, while hints of amber and musk linger on the skin, leaving a trail of irresistible sensuality. The result is a scent that is both bold and sophisticated, commanding attention and admiration wherever it goes.

The Inspiration:

Frédéric Malle's Portrait of a Lady takes its inspiration from the eponymous novel by Henry James, which tells the story of a strong, independent woman who defies societal conventions and pursues her own desires. Like its literary namesake, the fragrance exudes confidence, elegance, and a hint of mystery, capturing the essence of femininity and empowerment.

Portrait of a Lady invites the wearer to embrace their inner strength and embrace the complexities of their own identity with grace and poise.

The Bottle Design:

True to Frédéric Malle's commitment to craftsmanship and elegance, the bottle design of Portrait of a Lady exudes sophistication and refinement. The sleek glass bottle features clean lines and a minimalist aesthetic, adorned with the brand's signature red label and cap. The simplicity of the design allows the fragrance itself to take center stage, highlighting its beauty and allure.

The Occasions:

Portrait of a Lady is a versatile fragrance that can be worn for a variety of occasions, from daytime outings to evening events. Its bold and sensual aroma makes it perfect for special occasions such as date nights, parties, or formal gatherings, where it can leave a lasting impression of elegance and sophistication.

However, its complexity and depth also make it suitable for everyday wear, allowing the wearer to indulge in its luxurious aroma whenever they desire.

The Application:

To fully experience the allure of Portrait of a Lady, apply it to pulse points such as the wrists, neck, and décolletage.

Allow the fragrance to develop and unfold on your skin, revealing its intricate layers and nuances throughout the day. For a longer-lasting aroma, consider layering the fragrance by using matching body lotion or shower gel from the Frédéric Malle Portrait of a Lady collection.

The Final Verdict:

Frédéric Malle's Portrait of a Lady is a fragrance that transcends time and trends, capturing the essence of femininity and empowerment in every spritz. With its luxurious aroma, elegant bottle design, and versatile application, it has become a beloved staple in the collections of fragrance enthusiasts worldwide. Embrace the allure of Portrait of a Lady and experience the timeless elegance of Frédéric Malle's iconic fragrance.

For More Information About Parfums De Marly and Roja Elysium Please Visit:- Scent Split.

[chloe-rose-architecture]

Unmatched Luxury: Best Interior Designer in Saint Jean Cap Ferrat

Saint Jean Cap Ferrat, known for its stunning coastal views and luxurious lifestyle, is a haven for those seeking the finest in interior design. Amidst the picturesque backdrop of the French Riviera, discerning homeowners look for an interior designer who not only understands their vision but can also bring it to life with unparalleled expertise. If you’re on the hunt for the best interior designer in Saint Jean Cap Ferrat, look no further. This blog highlights the standout qualities and achievements that set the leading interior designer apart in this exclusive enclave.

The Pinnacle of Luxury and Elegance

The best interior designer in Saint Jean Cap Ferrat is renowned for creating spaces that are a true reflection of opulence and sophistication. With a keen eye for detail and a deep understanding of luxury aesthetics, this designer transforms ordinary rooms into extraordinary living environments. Whether it’s a grand villa overlooking the Mediterranean or a chic apartment in the heart of Saint Jean Cap Ferrat, the designer’s work exemplifies elegance and grandeur.

Personalized Design Philosophy

What distinguishes the top interior designer in this prestigious location is their commitment to personalized service. They don’t just design spaces; they craft experiences. By working closely with clients, they ensure that every design element resonates with the client’s personality and lifestyle. From bespoke furniture to unique color palettes, every detail is meticulously chosen to create a harmonious and bespoke living environment. This personalized approach guarantees that each project is one-of-a-kind and perfectly suited to the client's needs.

Seamless Integration of Style and Function

In luxury interior design, functionality is as important as aesthetics. The best designer in Saint Jean Cap Ferrat excels in integrating style with practicality. They understand that a beautiful home must also be functional and comfortable. This means creating layouts that not only look stunning but also work well for everyday living. Innovative storage solutions, intuitive space planning, and high-quality materials all contribute to a design that is both beautiful and livable.

A Legacy of Excellence

The reputation of the best interior designer in Saint Jean Cap Ferrat is built on a legacy of excellence. With a portfolio of high-profile projects and satisfied clients, their work speaks for itself. The designer’s ability to blend classic sophistication with contemporary trends has earned them accolades and recognition in the world of luxury interior design. Their commitment to quality and attention to detail ensure that every project is executed to the highest standards.

Commitment to Client Satisfaction

Client satisfaction is at the heart of the best interior designer’s philosophy. They prioritize clear communication and a collaborative approach, making sure that clients are involved in every step of the design process. This commitment ensures that the final result not only meets but exceeds client expectations. From initial consultation to project completion, the designer’s dedication to creating a seamless and enjoyable experience sets them apart in the competitive world of interior design.

Conclusion

Finding the best interior designer in Saint Jean Cap Ferrat is essential for anyone looking to transform their home into a luxurious retreat. With their expertise, personalized approach, and dedication to excellence, the top designer in this stunning location is sure to deliver a design that reflects both sophistication and individuality. For those seeking unparalleled style and functionality, this designer offers a transformative experience that captures the essence of luxury living on the French Riviera.

[gssoftwareposts]

Imprimeo: Your Top Choice for Low-Budget Interior Designers in Kolkata Under 3 Lakhs

Are you dreaming of a beautifully designed home or office space but worried about high costs? Look no further than Imprimeo, the leading name in low-budget interior designers in Kolkata under 3 lakhs. We specialize in transforming spaces with style and elegance, all while keeping your budget in mind. At Imprimeo, we believe that everyone deserves a well-designed environment that reflects their personality and meets their needs, without the hefty price tag.

Why Choose Imprimeo?

Affordable Excellence: Imprimeo prides itself on delivering top-notch interior design services at an unbeatable price. With a budget cap of 3 lakhs, we ensure that you get the most value for your money. Our expert designers are skilled at maximizing resources to create stunning spaces that look high-end but come at a fraction of the cost.

Tailored Designs: Every space is unique, and so are the needs of its occupants. At Imprimeo, we take the time to understand your preferences, lifestyle, and functional requirements. Our designers work closely with you to develop a customized plan that reflects your vision. Whether it's a cozy living room, a stylish kitchen, or a professional office setup, we tailor our designs to suit your specific needs.

Innovative Solutions: Budget constraints often lead to innovative and creative solutions. Our team excels at thinking outside the box to provide design solutions that are both practical and aesthetically pleasing. We use cost-effective materials and smart design techniques to achieve a luxurious look without overspending.

Transparent Process: At Imprimeo, we believe in complete transparency. From the initial consultation to the final reveal, we keep you informed at every step of the process. Our detailed estimates and clear communication ensure there are no hidden costs or surprises. You can trust us to deliver what we promise, within your budget.

Sustainable Practices: We are committed to sustainability and eco-friendly practices. Our designers incorporate sustainable materials and energy-efficient solutions into your designs, helping you create a space that is not only beautiful but also environmentally responsible.

Timely Execution: Time is of the essence in any design project. Our efficient project management and skilled workforce ensure that your project is completed on schedule. We understand the importance of timelines and work diligently to deliver your dream space on time.

Our Services:

Residential Interior Design: Whether you're looking to refresh a single room or redesign your entire home, Imprimeo offers comprehensive residential design services. From modern minimalism to classic elegance, we cater to a wide range of styles and preferences.

Commercial Interior Design: A well-designed office space can boost productivity and create a positive work environment. Our commercial design services are tailored to meet the needs of businesses, ensuring that your workspace is functional, stylish, and conducive to success.

Renovations and Makeovers: If your space needs a makeover, Imprimeo is here to help. Our renovation services breathe new life into old spaces, making them more functional and visually appealing.

3D Visualization: Visualize your space before the work begins with our 3D rendering services. This helps you make informed decisions and ensures that the final result matches your expectations.

Client Testimonials:

Don’t just take our word for it. Here’s what our satisfied clients have to say:

“Imprimeo transformed my living room within my budget and it looks amazing! Highly recommend them for anyone looking for low-budget interior designers in Kolkata under 3 lakhs.” – Priya S.

“The team at Imprimeo did an outstanding job with our office space. They were professional, efficient, and delivered exactly what we wanted. Best design service in Kolkata!” – Rahul M.

Get Started with Imprimeo:

Ready to transform your space without breaking the bank? Contact Imprimeo today and discover why we are the preferred choice for low-budget interior designers in Kolkata under 3 lakhs. Let us help you create a space that you’ll love and cherish for years to come.

[ritterimplantsworld]

Understanding Dental Implant Healing Abutments: A Guide to Ritter Implants

Dental implants have revolutionized tooth replacement, offering a natural-looking and long-lasting solution for missing teeth. The implant process itself involves multiple stages, and one crucial element in the initial phase is the dental implant healing abutment.

This blog post dives deep into the world of healing abutments, specifically focusing on those offered by Ritter Implants, a renowned German implant manufacturer. We'll explore their function, types, placement, and the importance they hold in achieving successful dental implant treatment.

What is a Dental Implant Healing AbutmentDental Implant Healing Abutment?

A dental implant healing abutment, also known as a healing cap or cover screw, is a temporary component placed on top of a newly inserted dental implant post. It acts as a placeholder while the implant integrates with the jawbone through a process called osseointegration. This typically takes several months.

Here's a breakdown of the key functions of a healing abutment:

Protecting the Implant Site: The abutment shields the implant from exposure to the oral cavity, preventing bacterial contamination and promoting proper healing.

Shaping Soft Tissue: The abutment helps guide the growth and contour of the gum tissue around the implant. This ensures a natural emergence profile for the future crown and allows for proper cleaning later on.

Preserving Bone Level: The abutment maintains space in the bone, preventing bone resorption around the implant.

Ritter ImplantsRitter Implants and Their Healing Abutments

Ritter Implants are known for their innovative SB/LA implant system, which includes a range of healing abutments designed for optimal functionality and aesthetics. These abutments are compatible with Ritter's internal hex connection, ensuring a secure fit with the implant post.

Ritter offers various healing abutment options to cater to individual patient needs. Here's a glimpse into some of their features:

Material:��Ritter's healing abutments are typically made of biocompatible grade titanium, a strong and corrosion-resistant material that promotes good tissue response.

Design: The abutments feature a smooth, polished surface to minimize plaque accumulation and ensure easy cleaning. They come in different heights and emergence profiles to achieve the desired gum tissue contour.

Customization: In some cases, dentists can customize the healing abutment for a specific patient's needs.

Types of Healing Abutments from Ritter

Ritter provides a variety of healing abutment options to suit different clinical scenarios. Here are two main categories:

Standard Healing Abutments: These are the most commonly used type and come in various heights and diameters. They are suitable for most implant placement situations.

Concave Healing Abutments: These abutments have a concave top surface that helps to create a more defined emergence profile for the final crown. They are often used in situations where aesthetics are a prime concern.

The Healing Abutment Placement Procedure

The placement of a healing abutment is typically a straightforward procedure performed by a dentist or oral surgeon during the initial implant surgery. Here's a general outline of the steps involved:

Implant Placement: The dentist surgically inserts the dental implant post into the jawbone at the predetermined location.

Abutment Selection: The dentist selects the most suitable healing abutment based on factors like implant position, desired gum level, and future crown type.

Abutment Attachment: The chosen healing abutment is screwed onto the implant post using a specialized driver.

Suturing (Optional): In some cases, the dentist may place sutures around the implant site to aid healing and stabilize the soft tissue.

Following the procedure, you'll be given specific instructions on caring for the implant site and the healing abutment. Proper oral hygiene is crucial during this healing period.

The Importance of Healing Abutments in Implant Dentistry

Healing abutments play a vital role in the success of dental implant treatment. Here's why they are so important:

Ensuring Osseointegration: By protecting the implant site and promoting proper healing, healing abutments contribute significantly to successful osseointegration, the foundation for a long-lasting implant.

Optimizing Aesthetics: The shape and size of the healing abutment influence the final emergence profile of the gum tissue around the crown. This directly impacts the aesthetics of the restored tooth.

Maintaining Bone Levels: Healing abutments help maintain bone volume around the implant, preventing bone resorption which can compromise implant stability in the long run.

Conclusion

Dental implant healing abutments are a crucial yet often overlooked component in the implant process. Ritter Implants offer a range of well-designed and reliable healing abutments that contribute to successful osseointegration and optimal aesthetic outcomes. If you're considering dental implants dental implants, understanding the role of healing abutments and the expertise of your dentist in choosing the right ones is essential for