#online display ad booking

[releasemyad1]

Design Tips for Eye-Catching Newspaper Display Advertisements

[newspaper-advertisement]

Ensuring Accuracy: How to Publish a Name Correction Ad in Newspapers

[newspaper-advertisements]

Unveiling Tradition: The Role of Deccan Chronicle Obituary Ads in Paying Tribute

[lackadaisycats]

Some insight into the designs and fashion of the 20s would be so cool, especially since it's kinda hard these days to sift through just costume listing :'0

Yeah, sadly, the usefulness of a Google search is greatly diminished these days. You can still find articles written by actual human beings and genuine historical garments, but you have to wade through a lot of junky costumes and AI bullshit to get there. I can't possibly fully explain 1920s fashion here, though. It's a broad enough topic to write a sizable book about...which is why people have written many books about it. Check out some books. There are things you can get pretty cheap from resellers, everything from academic screeds about the politics behind the fashion trends of the time, to clothing catalogue compilations from the 20s, to giant coffee table books full of glorious photos.

Here's a PDF version of one of those clothing catalog collections. There's an entire preface about 1920s fashion in general too.

There are some pretty well made blogs about the topic out there as well. Vintage Dancer is one of them. The front of the site is unfortunately kind of cluttered with ads for costume apparel and modern clothing inspired by the 20s, but scroll past that to the historical bits and you'll find pertinent things.

There are some great fashion YouTubers too, like Karolina Zebrowska. Although she's not focused heavily on 1920s fashion, she talks a lot about early 20th century fashion in general. She also talks a lot about the historical context of those fashions.

Also, try online museum displays. The Met Museum has a searchable collection, for instance. Look up 1920s fashion, 1920s dresses, 1920s suits, etc.

Cameras were popular and accessible in the 1920s. Look at pictures of what people actually wore. You can find these images in free government photo archives, or licensing libraries like Getty Images (you don't have to license anything to look at it). And there's always Shorpy. Poor old, underappreciated Shorpy. Their archive is searchable.

[reasonsforhope]

"Glamour UK launched its digital June Pride cover this week featuring a pregnant transgender man. 

The cover features transgender activist and author Logan Brown standing topless with a suit painted over his chest and his pregnant belly on full display. 

“I am a transgender pregnant man and I do exist, so no matter what anybody says, I literally am living proof,” Brown told the magazine. 

Glamour UK, an online women’s magazine published by Condé Nast, launched its Pride cover issue on Thursday, coinciding with the start of LGBTQ Pride month. The magazine has previously showcased prominent figures in the LGBTQ community, such as Grammy-award winning artist Kim Petras and "Queer Eye" cast member Antoni Porowski.

This year’s issue “celebrates the allyship between women (cisgender or not) and transgender people through our shared experiences — in particular pregnancy, healthcare and childbirth,” the magazine explained.

The cover interview, which was conducted two weeks before Brown, 27, gave birth to his daughter, Nova, recounts the cover star’s experience with an unexpected pregnancy and navigating the medical system as a trans man...

Despite the backlash, the cover star expressed his desire to educate those who may hold misconceptions about transgender individuals.

Brown shared with Glamour that he is working on a children’s book and an autobiography that highlights his pregnancy, and hopes it will serve as a resource for other transgender people. 

He added that he would also like the book to reach people who aren’t transgender but “are curious and want to know about the situation,” referring to trans pregnancy."

-via ABC News, June 2, 2023

-

Especially heartening to see this coming out of the UK, given the dramatic rise in transphobia and TERFism there the past few years.

Right now, it can be a really stressful and heartbreaking time to be trans. Widespread change takes time that it often feels like we don't have. But we're here, and we will always be here, and despite what it may feel like, we have made unbelievable amounts of progress in the last 20 years alone.

I promise you this: the transphobes are going to lose.

[houseofanticipation]

You're sitting with your friend Sam at a coffee shop, catching up. She's telling you about an instagram ad she keeps getting for some audiobook streaming service. "It's just crazy," she says, "because I was just telling Lucille I wanted to start reading more books but I never have the time, and then it's like instantly I'm getting these ads all the time."

"So what," you say over your steaming mug, "you think they're listening to you?"

Sam shakes her head. "Honestly I think it's almost scarier than that. They have so much information about us, they don't even need to listen to our conversations. They just know, based on everything they've gathered about me, that I'm probably someone who wants to listen to audiobooks."

"Well they can't be that smart," you say. "Because the only ads I've been getting lately are for something called Slut Cream."

Sam raises an eyebrow. "You must know I'm going to need more details."

You take out your phone and find an ad to show her. It's not difficult; literally all of the ads you see on instagram are like this. They're even showing up in other places now, on webpages you visit or apps you use. This one is one you've seen before: a beautiful woman in a crop top that just barely covers her nipples is proudly displaying a squeeze tube of the kind you'd buy sunscreen or toothpaste in. The caption says, "Being a slut isn't a hobby—it's a lifestyle! Step up your slut game with Slut Cream! Shop Now"

"I don't even know what slut cream is," you say. "All you get when you look it up is a bunch of porn."

"Well, obviously it's a way to step up your slut game," says Sam sagely. "What does it say on the website?"

"Oh, I'm not clicking the link," you say. "I don't want to encourage them! What I want to know is why suddenly this ad is all I can seem to see!"

Sam shoots you a wink. "Maybe you're just a slut. These data brokers know us better than we know ourselves."'

What neither of you know is that it's actually quite easy to buy online ad space, and they let you get pretty specific with your intended audience.

I live in the next apartment over from you. I've been watching you for a long time, studying you, listening to you through our shared wall. We've talked a few times, some terse conversation at the mailboxes or in the hall, which is how I knew enough about you to place those ads, with audience parameters so specific that probably only you and about five other people would see them. I had fun making them; hiring the model to do the photoshoot, dusting off the skills I picked up in that college graphic design course, creating a website for this fake business (though I'm disappointed you still haven't clicked through to see it). If you actually tried to buy slut cream, the website would tell you we're currently closed due to high traffic, and to check back later. Nowhere on the website does it explain what slut cream is.

A number of strange things happen to you over the course of the following day. On your lunch break you walk down the block to the deli by your office. You're in here every weekday, but today the energy here is different. People are staring you, side-eyeing you, having whispered conversations that stop abruptly when you get too close. As you're walking back to work, an old woman spits on the ground as you pass, you'd swear you heard the word "whore!" hissed under her breath. You wonder if you should say something, stand up for yourself, but she's elderly, probably confused, and you decide to be the bigger person.

In the hours after lunch, you're propositioned by no less than seven of your male coworkers. You've had to refuse a few invitations to dinner in your time, but seven in a day is completely out of the ordinary, and the things these men are offering to do to you go way outside the bounds of first date stuff. One guy tells you the conference room is empty, if you want to go for a quick fuck; another guy tells you he hasn't cum in a month, and if you sucked his cock he'd pump so much cum down your throat that you wouldn't need to eat dinner. Your boss even tells you he and his wife are looking for a third and he thought of you first, like he's offering you a big promotion. The strangest thing is that all of these men seem genuinely surprised when you turn them down. Like this sort of thing usually works with girls. One guy even says, "sorry, I was just trying to help."

It was pretty easy to hire actors for the deli and the street. You go to the same place every day, so I knew where they'd have to go and roughly when they'd need to be there. The harder part was getting your coworkers to play along, especially because I was picky about getting people who could sell the act. For a few of them all it took was money. A few of them I had to blackmail. For your boss I had to call in a favor, get his boss to threaten his job. He protested, but I think it made his cock hard, thinking about fucking you alongside his wife.

I keep this up for a few weeks. Anywhere you go I have people watching you, talking about you behind your back. I have people approaching you on the train, at the park, in restaurants, offering to fuck you like they're doing you a favor. You stay firm in your refusal—I wouldn't have expected any less from you—but I can tell it's beginning to eat at you. I watch you try to figure out what you're doing that seems to give all these people the wrong idea about you; you start to dress more modestly, talk less, even walk a little less confidently. But none of this will change anything. All it will do is make you feel more repressed.

After a month, I decide it's time to make my move. I could probably wait longer, but the anticipation is getting too much for me, and besides, you're beginning to get a little wild around the eyes. I'd hate to break you before I've had my fun. One evening, when I know you're home, I unlock your apartment with the duplicate key I had made two months ago. You're in the kitchen, washing dishes with headphones on; you didn't hear me come in. I leave the door open as I approach you, admiring the way you shake your ass to whatever it is you're listening to. I get right up behind you and stay there for a moment, lavishing in your innocence, feeling my cock strain at my belt as I imagine taking it away from you. Then I reach around front of you with both arms and plunge my hand into your panties

You shout in shock, fight back, try to push me off as the headphones fall off your head. But I've got you pinned against the counter, my full body weight against you, one hand down your pants, the other groping your breasts. Once you realize that fighting won't help, you stop struggling and ask me what I want. "Please," you say. Just hearing that quiver in your voice almost makes me delirious with lust. "Please, let me go. I don't want this, please."

I bury my face in your neck, kissing and breathing you in. You smell incredible, like fear and sweat and sex. I bring my lips up to your ear, let them brush against you as I speak. "Of course you want this, baby. You've been trying so hard to hide it, but you don't have to hide with me. Look, you left the door open for me." I let you turn your head enough to see the door hanging open just as my fingers find your clit. I'm rubbing you gently, tenderly, just the way I've watched you touch yourself through the webcam I have in your room. My other hand is under your shirt now and I'm squeezing your breast, rolling your nipple between my fingers, feeling it slowly grow full and erect. You try to stifle a soft moan and I kiss your neck again. "It's okay, baby. You don't have to be ashamed. It's okay to want to feel good. Let me make you feel good."

You clutch your face in your hands and let out a cry of frustration and humiliation and agony and pleasure. You barely know me; I'm the guy next door who sometimes looks at you a little too long. The guy you speed up to avoid in the hall. But that feeling radiating from you clit... You think how exhausting it's been, doing everything you could think of to change people's perception of you, get them to stop looking at you as a slut, how none of it has done you any good anyway. You wonder if you'd have had more fun fucking Jim in the conference room, or swallowing Dylan's cum, or having a threesome with your boss and his wife. And that throbbing in your clit, the agonizing pleasure...You remember that beautiful woman in the ad: "Being a slut isn't a hobby—it's a lifestyle!" You think about how happy she looked, how fulfilled. You remember Sam's words: "These data brokers know us better than we know ourselves."

It does feel good, doesn't it? To let me touch you, pleasure you, to let go of this act you've been holding on to. Isn't it okay to want to feel good? Why did you ever let anyone make you ashamed of that? You try out another moan, letting the pleasure well up through your chest and out your mouth. It feels good, so you try another, and another, and then you're leaning back into me, grinding up against me, delighting in the feeling of my hard cock against your ass.

"Good," I say. "You're letting go of those silly hang-ups. Now we can have our real fun." My hands still around you, controlling you, I half lead-half carry your trembling body to the bedroom. I throw you on the bed, face up so I can get a good look at your eyes, see what I've done to your mind. Those same eyes that have avoided me in the hall so many times now gaze hungrily up at me, wanting me, needing me.

Who am I do decline?

I pull off your pants and panties as a single unit, letting you take care of your shirt for yourself. I kick of my own bottoms, letting my throbbing cock slap against your leg as it springs from its confinement. Don't think I don't notice the way your whole body shivers when it touches you. I lift your legs and push your knees up towards your ears; you're remarkably flexible. It must be all that yoga I've watched you do at the place downtown. I've greatly enjoyed your visits to that place, so it's nice to see they weren't in vain.

You're afraid of me, all of a sudden. Maybe some part of you is seeing sense, realizing you'd have to be crazy to let a guy like me come into your home and fuck you like this. But what was the alternative? Have me rape you? Let me tell you, darling: I would have raped you. You feel the head of my cock gliding over your skin, exploring your inner thighs and pubic area, and tremble at my touch. I want this, you tell yourself. This is what a slut like me needs.

All the same, you cry a little bit when I penetrate you. It's not because it hurts—it does hurt a bit, but you're wet enough, and it's not entirely a bad pain. It's not because you're afraid—well, maybe in part, but that's not the core of it. You cry because you're finally letting go. Letting go of the person you used to be, or thought you were. It's the relief of knowing you don't have to pretend anymore, wrapped up with the mourning you feel when you lose a potential version of yourself. I lean across you as my cock fills you up, and tenderly, I kiss away your tears. "Hush, my darling. I'm here. I will always be here. I will love you despite what you are, when everyone else turns away in disgust."

My weight on you feels good, comforting. The way I press down on your legs, stretching you out, driving my cock so deep inside you that it brushes your cervix. It hurts a little, but is that any better than you deserve? Could a slut like you really expect to find better than this? Better than unconditional love and a desire to give you the pleasure you need?

I'm speeding up now, my face something like an animal, furious and insistent as I gaze down at you. There's darkness behind my eyes, you think, something cold and cruel. You thank God I'm on your side. My hips are like a hammer on your pelvis now, and with each thrust you feel my cock bulging inside you, throbbing and pulsating with anticipation. When I finally plant my seed in you, groaning and growling and pressing you further into the bed, you find there's something comforting about the warmth of my cum inside you. Maybe my seed will take root, make you swell up with me, make you mine. As I roll off you, huffing and panting, the tears begin to stream down your face again, this time from joy.

What did a slut like you ever do to deserve someone who loves you like I do?

[thisismeracing]

I lost the ask's request, but here you go, honey! <3

requests are CLOSED

CARLOS DATING AN INDIAN GIRL | CS55

Warnings: mentions of food; tooth-rotting fluff; mentions of family members; not proofread.

A/n: Just a quick reminder that there are many shades, experiences, and backgrounds when it comes to Indians and their culture, what I am writing does not resume everything, but rather brings a piece of it to the table. <3

▸ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ▸ support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee)

This man will start to tell India's story, location, and importance in the political context to everyone who dares to act uneducated around him!!! Most of what he knew he got from you, but the other half he got curious and just went on his own treasure hunt on the internet and, yes, shockingly, bookstores - he ordered online, but it still counts (those were his words);

Let's say he has never been to India outside the context of racing, so going with you for the first time makes it even more special (he will spend a few hours of the vacation telling you about the old Indian GP);

Carlos loved eating a traditional meal with your family, and he loved it even more because your grandpa taught him about the history behind eating with your hands and suggested he tried it if he wanted to (he had never felt the texture of food or appreciated its flavor quite like the way he did when he gave the tradition a chance);

You told him the story of the Taj Mahal while you walked there, and, of course, he got into a rabbit hole of questions and Google searches and even a book recommendation from a family member of yours (he told them about the experience, just like he told in the group chat of drivers he was part of);

The man bought just about everything in Chandni Chowk! You touched it, he bought it, and even when you didn't, he would point at a colorful fabric and say that the color suited you - but then again, in Carlos' eyes everything suited you, and you looked even more stunning when proudly displaying your heritage;

Pakora's probably his favorite snack, and, for now, his favorite dish is Dal Makhani (you still introducing him to the cuisine);

He'll love your family, and probably be added to the family group chat where he'll dutifully answer every message your parents, cousins, and so on send;

Carlos will casually ask if you would want two weddings or just one in India (yeah, his research took him to the wedding traditions, and he saw a few TikTok videos - he loved the energy and the colors, and of course, the story behind everything);

Looks even more handsome wearing a bandhgala!!!!

[hazelfoureyes]

i have a bit of a fun ask :) can u put ur spotify on shuffle and write a fic with vox based on the first song that plays? plz plz HAZEL PLZ

Please please please know I am still getting my sea legs with Vox! So don’t go into this expecting my usual… uhhh skill? Confidence? also testing the new tag list system

「Warnings/Promises: Val exists, Vox x Fem Reader, stalking, pastry decimation, casual sexism」

Stalker’s Tango

From the moment you stepped out of your home, he was eagerly watching.

The security doorbell camera on your porch let him see you wore black pants and a white blouse. Perfect. A white pocket square in his suit jacket pocket to complement. “Wonderful choice as always, babe.” He spoke softly to the screen; to you.

He followed every move, jumping with muscle memory speed from traffic camera to home security camera to shopwindow full of screens.

When you stopped to go into a bakery, he was there in the cctv cameras, fisheye view of your order of cold brew coffee and a croissant. “Impeccable taste.” A confident laugh between you two as he shot off a text to craft services, two words, ‘Croissants. Now.’

“Could you possibly warm that?” You asked the young man behind the counter.

Another text. ‘Heated.’

He watched you at the bus stop. A man sat beside you and smiled at you. You offered a kind smile back. “Who the fuck is that?” He zoomed in, taking a screenshot to send to Velvette, ‘Find socials for this pissant.’

When you stepped onto the bus he sighed, relief the man was no longer bothering you but also with a heart heavy. You didn’t belong on the bus. Why couldn’t he just buy you a car? No, better, He should send a driver to pick you up daily. A personal chauffeur. You shouldn’t have to bother yourself with driving.

No, he was thinking too small. You should live in the tower. Angel Dust used to, why couldn’t you? A moment of fantasy.

Perhaps he’d walk in to find you in your pajamas. What ever could they be? He searched your online shopping history and couldn’t find a single purchase for sleep wear. Your lack of home television and a computer limited him to only watching you from your stoop and beyond. He buckled, what if you didn’t wear anything to bed? Why didn’t you let him see you at night? What did he need to do for you to trust him in your home.

A knock at the door he didn’t acknowledge. His sole focus was you. A book? You minx. Always playing hard to get. He knew you got the e-reader he sent. He watched you take the package from the doorbell camera, after all.

“Sir,” a small and slightly pathetic voice spoken through the door, “I’m getting word from downstairs they’re not sure how to keep croissants warm in the studio.”

Another zoom, what were you reading? He’d have the author on Vox programming, sure to take photos like old chums for you to see on your bus stop bench ads.

Vox rose slowly from his chair, eyes on you as he backed away from his desk.

A change in routine. You cut through Jekyll Park. No cameras.

Vox hurried to the door, huffing as he flung it open, “Have you never heard of a warming lamp?”

“They don’t have any… normally they only offer cold items.”

“Fine then have,” he pointed at a random employee walking by, “that fucker stand there with a toaster oven”

The eel demon shrunk, “Well he works for us not for-.”

The screen that comprised his head filled with static, eyes a swirling rage of red and black, “He works for the Vees. He goes where we tell him.”

He slammed the door, taking a moment to recompose himself before turning to face you. He didn’t want you to see him like that.

Spinning back, charming smile cocked on his face, “Alright where are you?” He strolled up to the displays and returned to his seat, scanning around until he found you again. But he wasn’t finding you. He couldn’t do anything about the park’s lack of cameras, it was pentagram city property, or else he’d have staff in there within the hour. Normally not an issue though, you never cut through that way.

Sixty seconds. Where were you?

Ninety seconds. Where were you.

One hundred and eighty seconds. Where were you!

Vox’s chair fell over as he stood with a panic, hitting the speed dial for Security. As the phone was answered and he began to instruct them to the west entrance of the park, you emerged from the tree lined path and tossed your empty coffee cup and food bag into the recycling bins. You’d just slowed your walk to enjoy your breakfast with a pretty view.

“Nevermind, false alarm fellas.” A nervous chuckle as he pulled at his collar. “Sir we’re not all me-.”

He hung up and leaned on the control panel. He should have sent a text. In fact maybe he still should.

Good Morning sinners! Reminder—- you’re only safe when you’re under the watchful eye of VoxTek Security Cameras.

A mass push text to every VoxTek phone in pentagram city. He watched you look at your phone and then up to the camera pointed directly at you from a light pole. A satisfied hum, “Good girl.”

As his view switched to the VeeTower camera system he danced into the elevator.

Vox’s foot impatiently tapped, staring directly into the eyes of the VoxTek employee holding the toaster oven in his hands. The fishy looking demon was squirming as the heat bled into the metal casing and burned his palms.

“Oh! I didn’t know I paid you to arrive late!” Val’s voice carried across the set.

You gripped the handles of your tote bag, “Val I’m sorry! The bus got a flat tire and I had to walk.”

A hiss as Val leaned down to get eye level with you, “Sluts lie as easily as they open their legs.”

“No, Val.” Vox interjected, tone stronger than he had intended, “She’s telling the truth. It was on the local traffic report. Cut her some slack.”

“I don’t watch that shit.” A sigh, exhaling pink aphrodisiac laced smoke into the air between you three, “Fine. If amorcito says so.” Val smiled to Vox before sending a sneer back to you, “Now fuck off to the dressing room.”

He walked away to shout at someone else, so you took the opportunity to say, “Thank you.” You offered a little head bow, grateful for back-up in your lie. Vox had already been trying to sneak off the set when you started speaking to him, causing him to sheepishly spin around on his heels. “I don’t think we’ve met before, but I see you all over the place. You’re Vox, right?” You extended a hand.

His screen flickered, blue background now with a gradient pink starting from the bottom, a blush rising up his face, “I see my reputation precedes me.” A false bravado as he gestured to himself. He moved the croissant to his right hand so he could shake yours.

“Well… your name and face is on everything. So, yes! I guess so.” You shook his hand, “Oh, I had a croissant too.”

He beamed, “Ya know what they say, great minds and all that. I was just having a little breakfast after reading. I hear they have some on set today in craft services.” You perked up, looking to the food table and the man holding the toaster oven.

“My lucky day! If only they had iced coffee. It would be perfect.” With a polite smile you took a step away, “I gotta go or Val will kill me. Nice to meet you!”

Vox stood still until you were out of sight. His hand crushed the pastry before he launched it across the room, mumbling about coffee before looking back longingly in the direction you’d left in, “See ya later babe.”

༻Masterlist༺

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei ,  @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog  , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima a , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @rubyninja1 , @simphornies

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf ,  , @fizzled-phoenix ,  @phobophobular  , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo    , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk   , @bontensbabygirl 

[etoilesbienne]

Grace's Performance Mod Recommendation List

I recommend reading descriptions for all mods downloaded to understand what they do in order to resolve any bugs that may arise. QblrSMP utilizes every mod listed here. Most of the trick to making performance mods work so well is that I manually edit a lot of config settings to gear them more toward how the given server is played.

SERVERSIDE ONLY https://www.curseforge.com/minecraft/mc-mods/spawn-balance-utility - Requires heavy editing using configs + spreadsheets. changes biome spawn. necessary for any modpacks with heavy mobspawn. https://modrinth.com/plugin/lmd https://www.curseforge.com/minecraft/mc-mods/clumps https://www.curseforge.com/minecraft/mc-mods/chunky-pregenerator-forge - this pregenerates the world. most of Qblr's good performance is from me pregenerating. This can take up to a week or longer depending on the worldgen mods added + size of worldborder you want. It's only really worth it if you're playing a server with a consistent 15+ people online daily and you don't use more than the vanilla dimensions, as each dimension must be loaded individually. Also the admin must install clientside to use it in game.

SERVER & CLIENT: https://modrinth.com/mod/servercore - this requires manual editing in server config https://modrinth.com/mod/ferrite-core https://modrinth.com/mod/memoryleakfix https://modrinth.com/mod/modernfix https://modrinth.com/mod/packet-fixer https://www.curseforge.com/minecraft/mc-mods/spark https://www.curseforge.com/minecraft/mc-mods/better-ping-display

WITH USING https://www.curseforge.com/minecraft/mc-mods/notenoughrecipebook MAKE SURE that everyone uses JEI https://modrinth.com/mod/jei or variants for it. recipe books take up extra packet space that can be used elsewhere.

CLIENTSIDE ONLY: https://modrinth.com/mod/embeddium https://modrinth.com/mod/embeddiumplus

[alittlelessalone]

Okay, so I just got back from a trip to Japan and I went to the restaurant that inspired Sia La Luce and I just need to share my experience (and photos) with everyone!!!

First of all, look at their Joe shrine! It's right on the bar and always on display! Also glad they added a Cherry. Can't have a shrine to Joe without him!

And the second our waitress saw my sk8 phone straps, she pointed them out and said we could get some photos after our meal. I assumed she meant I could snap a few, but then she let us go up to the bar and started positioning us. Even the cook joined in! They were both so nice about it and found my excitement really endearing (the waitress even snapped a picture of me to keep for the restaurant). I censored these for posting online, but you can be 100% certain I'll be showing them off to all my friends!

Then, our waitress brought out a Sk8 art book to show us our table was right next to the outlet where Carla was charged! (Lol, look at my mini-Carla go!)

And this one wasn't pointed out to me, but apparently I'm gay enough that I recognized the picture. And I was right! Look! It's the same one!!!!

So yeah, overall it was a really great experience! The food was great, the staff were super friendly (even if they didn't speak much English and my Japanese is also pretty limited). I'm so glad my friend and I decided to do this (and grateful she went along with it since she hasn't seen Sk8 yet). We did a ton of really incredible things in Japan, but this had to be the one with the potential for the most awkward moments, but it ended up just being a really fun and wholesome time. 100% recommend going to Cucina Italiana Tamanaha if you're going to Okinawa. As long as you're respectful and actually eat a meal there, I think other fans will also have a really great time!

[txtaetertots]

HOPELESSLY DEVOTED 68: prom

[ synopsis ] you’re trying to get into your dream school. beomgyu’s just trying to pass a class. the only way to ensure you both get what you want is to work together. very closely.

[ note ] i think this is the longest chapter i've written for this series omg its over 3k words aHH i hope you guys enjoy it <3

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When the prom venue was chosen and booked, Yunjin had a vision she couldn’t be talked out of. It was cliché, already been done. But, to Yunjin, there was nothing she couldn’t outdo and ameliorate—and a prom theme wasn’t any different. Kazuha would tell everyone it was a pain in the ass trying to meet Yunjin’s demands; but, now that it was all over and the fruit of their labor was finally able to be appreciated, she couldn’t deny it was all worth it.

From the dark blue shaded ceiling drapes adorned with twinkling lights to the glossy black dance floor sparkling with silver specs and reflecting the lights above, it was like stepping into a celestial wonderland. Starry night seemed to be a staple theme for youth events, commemorating these moments as magical and full of whimsy. And Yunjin couldn’t stop herself from doing just that and more. The round tables were intricately positioned around the room, hugging the dance floor and creating a path. The tables were dressed in velvet covers, trimmed with silver beads, and in the center of every table were the handmade centerpieces Yunjin forced Kazuha to make with her. Cylindrical vases of varying heights, filled with water, small white flowers, and iridescent streamers, sat inside a square tray filled with crystal pebbles. On top of the water floats lit candles, adding to the calming ambiance. The room was filled with decor exemplifying the theme from white, black, and navy blue balloon displays, twinkling stars, white drapes along the walls, and a sparkling golden crescent moon. Lights everywhere, flickering and flashing. The star of the display, however, Yunjin would argue, was the four-tiered golden fountain in the center of the dance floor. Her favorite touch was the fountain that took her three months of convincing and revamping.

“Wow, it’s beautiful, Yunjin,” Soobin gapped, doing his best to talk over the music while admiring every inch of the room.

Yunjin grinned, watching as their classmates admired and relished in the venue, “I know right.”

“Any word from Chaewon yet?” Beomgyu interjected, hands fiddling with the sleeves of his white suit jacket.

“Not yet,” Yunjin sighed, tapping her phone just to see an empty notification screen.

She looked up at Beomgyu, watching how his eyes wandered the room and the way he chewed on his bottom lip. He wasn’t even this nervous during their performance week.

“Beomgyu,” Yunjin said, placing her hand on his shoulder, gaining his attention. “Everything is gonna work out just fine. We’ve got this.”

Beomgyu nodded hesitantly, taking a deep breath. Despite being so last-minute, his friends were more than willing to move heaven and earth to make this gesture possible. Especially Yunjin and Kazuha, who used their privileges as prom committee members to create as romantic of a scene as they possibly could. 

Just then, Yunjin’s phone flashed, alerting the three to a message from Chaewon.

‘Pulling up now. Get ready!’

Beomgyu felt his entire body turn cold. He looked between Yunjin and Soobin, heart threatening to jump out of his chest.

Soobin grabbed his arm, “It’s go-time!”

Leading Beomgyu through the crowd of students, Soobin made a beeline toward the DJ booth where Kazuha and Taehyun were waiting. As soon as the two noticed them rushing toward them, they began preparing the equipment.

YN grabbed a fistful of the skirt of her dress, nervously following Chaewon into the building. She could hear the faint thumping of the music down the corridor from the entrance, making her palms feel clammy and her breath uneasy. She didn’t want to be here originally. The embarrassment of Beomgyu rejecting her promposal was bad enough; but then, subsequently rejecting his relationship proposal after the gritty events following, it felt wrong being here.

Even when Chaewon was helping her do her hair and makeup, all she could think about was everything Yunjin said about prom. About it being the perfect ending to her and Beomgyu’s year. Instead, she’s going without Beomgyu, having already ended their story the night of their final performance. It wasn’t an easy decision, but it had been on her mind since the moment Beomgyu opened up to her. She would never do something as horrible as Jieun, but she knew that being thousands of miles away while building her career would make it nearly impossible to be a present part of his life. She just needed confirmation from NYU, and when she got it, it was the only option she felt was right.

Still, walking up to the beautifully decorated venue entrance, being met with the music growing louder and louder, all she could feel was regret and sadness, not an ounce of excitement. Chaewon locked their arms together as they walked through the string light entrance toward the sheer blue curtain, pushing through and falling in awe with the dance hall.

YN couldn’t stop looking around, taking in every bit of what felt like walking through the night sky, unaware that the music was going dim. She didn’t even notice Chaewon taking her down to the dance floor, too busy admiring the lit-up path edged with cloud-like bushels. It wasn’t until Chaewon let go of her did she realized where she was led. She looked around her, noticing the dance floor was cleared with everyone surrounding the floor while staring at her. YN looked back for Chaewon, who held up her hands and assured her all was okay. Confused, YN looked back at the floor, looking around for any hint of what was going on. She felt a wave of emotion and goosebumps over her arms and neck as a song suddenly began playing through the hall. A painfully familiar tune.

A spotlight shines over the fountain, gaining everyone’s attention, beaming over to a figure standing at the DJ booth. YN recognized him immediately and couldn’t help the smile forming on her lips.

Beomgyu stretched out his hand over his eyes, trying to block out the light so he could see her more clearly. In his other hand, he held a microphone. As soon as he saw her, he felt his nerves melt away and all he could focus on was her. He brought the microphone up to his lips, gaze never leaving her, and slowly made his way down the booth to the floor.

Guess mine is not the first heart broken

My eyes are not the first to cry

YN stood frozen, hands clenching to the fabric of her dress, watching as Beomgyu made his way toward her. The spotlight followed every step he took, making it impossible to look away from him. The light contrast made it hard for Beomgyu to read the expression on YN’s face, but he only hoped she was still smiling as he stepped closer and closer.

I’m not the first to know

There’s just no getting over you

It was such a spur-of-the-moment idea to sing to YN at prom. His friends still don’t know what happened after he met with Mr. Kim, but whatever it was, had to be a big deal. Beomgyu described it as “the sign of all signs” and his second chance. It was the last push he needed to consider Yeonjun’s plan of making the most of the time they had left. And, he knew he had to do something big to show YN how deeply he felt. What better way was that than through music?

You know I’m just a fool who’s willing

To sit around and wait for you

Beomgyu stopped a few steps in front of YN, reaching his hand out for her to take. YN could see his hand trembling, making her chest heave. She reached out slowly, letting him take her hand and gently pull her toward the center of the floor.

But, baby, can’t you see

There’s nothing else for me to do?

I’m hopelessly devoted to you

A smile crept its way to Beomgyu’s face, his confidence gaining as he noticed the faint blush painted across YN’s cheeks, as he was finally able to see her face clearly. He couldn’t help but focus on her eyes, the way they stared up at him in adoration. He swore his knees would buckle any moment if he didn’t look away, but he just couldn’t. He took a chance to twirl her around once before bringing her in and swaying together as the spotlight dimmed and they were bathed under the soft twinkling of the string lights around them.

But now there’s nowhere to hide

Since you pushed my love aside

He took YN’s hand and held it up to his chest, squeezing gently. YN could feel how hard his heart was pounding through the palm of her hand. She looked back up at him, watching the way his eyes fluttered closed as he continued to sing. For a moment, she forgot people were watching them. It felt like it was just her and Beomgyu at this moment in time.

I’m out of my head

Hopelessly devoted to you

YN carefully released her hand from Beomgyu’s grip and reached up to cup his face. He followed her movements, gaze falling back to hers as soon as he felt the warmth of her palm on his cheek. He turned into putty whenever he felt her soft fingers trace along the base of his ear, along his jaw. Her touch was so tender and comforting. He wished they could stay this way forever.

Hopelessly devoted to you

“I’m hopelessly devoted… to you,” Beomgyu sighed the last note, hands reaching up to cup YN’s cheeks to carefully wipe away her tears. 

The music faded, leaving them in silence. People hesitated to cheer Beomgyu’s performance, not wanting to spoil the moment unfolding before them. When Taehyun made an announcement about this ordeal before YN’s arrival, they were reluctant to oblige, but as they watched the way Beomgyu poured his heart out into every lyric, they wanted nothing more than bare witness. It wasn’t like Beomgyu to have this much passion for anything or anyone, but ever since taking part in the musical, it was like he became a different person. Happier. Full of life. Desire for the future.

“What was all this for? When did you plan this? What?” YN began to blabber, looking around at everyone and spotting her friends gathered by the DJ booth with smiles on their faces.

Beomgyu pulled her attention back to him, smiling. “I know you said you said you wanted to just be friends. But, YN, I don’t think I can do that.”

“You can’t?”

Beomgyu shook his head. “It took me too long to realize the feelings I have for you aren’t just infatuation. YN, I’m in love with you.”

YN’s eyes widened. She never expected to hear that word from him. It was a scary word to hear at their age, but for some reason, it felt more liberating than scary. It felt right.

“Kiss her!” Someone yelled, pushing the rest of the crowd to begin chanting.

Beomgyu looked at YN, raising his eyebrows as if asking if it was okay. But, before he could even open his mouth to ask, she grabbed the collar of his jacket and pulled him down, catching him off guard. Their lips crashed together, leaving Beomgyu bewildered for a moment before melting into her touch as their classmates cheered on. His hands found their place at her hips, where the hem of her bodice met the skirt of her floor-length dress. This was a feeling he could never get used to.

The DJ restarted his set, encouraging everyone to get back on the floor. Beomgyu pulled away, grinning from ear to ear, grabbing YN’s hand and pulling her away from the floor and toward the entrance to the corridors. There was barely anyone there, allowing them to catch a breath and enjoy each other’s company for a bit longer.

“I can’t believe you did all this,” YN said, gripping Beomgyu’s hands as she attempted to relax the adrenaline she felt.

“I had to do something big to tell you how I feel,” Beomgyu confessed. “Besides, I had to do something special, too, for that thoughtful promposal you gave me.”

YN slapped her hands over her face, embarrassment overtaking the rush. “I can’t believe you reminded me of that!”

Beomgyu laughed, attempting to pull her hands away, but she wouldn’t budge.

“I wanted to experience this night with you,” he sighed, giving up and pulling her against his chest instead. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on the top of her head. “I never saw myself going to prom, but when you asked me, all I could think about was how pretty you were gonna look.”

“Until you rejected me,” YN muttered.

Beomgyu squeezed her tight, a grimace falling over his face. “I deserve to be shamed for that. I know. I thought it was the right thing to do at the time, like a dumbass.”

YN picked her head up from her hands, looking up at Beomgyu as he looked down at her. She could see the regret he felt about that moment written all over his face. 

“Just like me when I said we should just be friends, huh?” She asked softly.

“Depends,” Beomgyu sighed. “Would it make a difference if I told you that I might be joining you in New York come spring?”

YN’s eyes widened, her mouth falling agape. She didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t get her voice out. All she could do was stare at him in bewilderment and squeeze his arms from shock. Beomgyu found it amusing. It was similar to the way he reacted when Mr. Kim told him. He could recall that moment like it just happened. Sitting in the chair facing Mr. Kim’s desk like he always was throughout the year, only instead of being scolded for his missing assignments or poor attendance record, he was waiting to hear the reflection on his performance in the spring musical. Mr. Kim praised him for his outstanding performance and display of great showmanship, a drastic change from the usual threats of detention for being a smartass in class.

“When did this happen?! What are you talking about?!” YN finally said, managing to break through her initial shock.

Beomgyu laughed, “Mr. Kim called me into his office to discuss my final grade and sprung it on me out of nowhere!”

“What did he say? What happened? I need to know it all!”

“He just made me read an email from NYU. They invited me to apply for the music program for the spring semester! I guess they liked me?” Beomgyu shrugged, trying to act nonchalant.

Beomgyu was satisfied knowing he passed his final assignment ensuring his seat at graduation, but when he got up to leave, Mr. Kim urged him to sit back down. They had gone over everything they needed to, what more could there be to discuss? The grin on Mr. Kim’s face was borderline unsettling as he turned his computer screen for Beomgyu to see. With his eyebrows furrowed, Beomgyu steadily leaned forward to get a clearer view and began reading the open email tab adorned with a familiar purple emblem at the top.

Dear Mr. Kim, We wanted to thank you again for hosting us as we conducted a final review for fall semester applicants. Your drama department is brimming with talent and it was a delightful treat to be able to see the passion among your students. Everyone at NYU is more than enthusiastic about the prospects you are producing. One of your students in particular grabbed our attention especially. After discussing with the rest of the board, we are honored to extend an invitation to Choi Beomgyu to apply for the upcoming spring semester at NYU Tisch for our music program. Beomgyu demonstrated an elite level of music and vocal performance that moved our recruiters. Let us know if you or Beomgyu have any questions. We look forward to hearing from him.

“What did your parents say?” YN asked.

“They don’t know yet,” Beomgyu sighed. “No one knows actually. You’re the first person I told.”

“When are you going to tell them? Are you even applying?”

“Oh, I’m applying,” Beomgyu assured. “I never thought I could get an offer to pursue music. I don’t want to pass this up!”

No matter what Beomgyu did or said, his parents were adamant about having him take over the family market when he was old enough. All those summers spent working alongside his father in the market instead of practicing the chords his grandfather taught him on guitar. Those times they told him to keep his music down and stop “screaming” all the time. He knew it would be hard to tell them about the NYU offer. And, it would be nearly impossible to get their blessing to apply. But, this felt like a once-in-a-lifetime chance to make something of his old dream. Even without their support, he knew he had friends who would have his back and give him that push.

“I’m so happy for you,” YN said softly, tears brimming in her eyes. She wrapped her arms around his waist, squeezing him tightly. She was overcome with joy and excitement at the thought of Beomgyu not only pursuing his dream but pursuing it alongside her in New York.

Beomgyu felt his own tears finally fall as he wrapped his arms around YN, finding peace in knowing it wouldn’t be the last time. He wouldn’t have to say goodbye this summer. He wouldn’t have to “make the most” out of every moment until she left for New York. For weeks, all he could dwell on was the idea of never being able to see her once she left. But now, the tension and worries were gone. He could enjoy their time together while they had it because their time apart could be numbered. They would be able to meet again one day in the new year when spring returns to gift them more precious memories like the spring they met.

[ note ] cheers cheers happy happy we scream and cry together aHHhHhh

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[macrolit]

Do You Have ‘Bookshelf Wealth’?

A TikTok home-décor trend has irked some bibliophiles.

By Madison Malone Kircher

Published in the New York Times, Jan. 15, 2024

When it comes to aesthetic trends, social media loves a catchy name.

Cottagecore. Dark academia. Eclectic grandpa.

Now there’s a new entry to the canon: bookshelf wealth.

On TikTok and other digital platforms, there has lately been much ado about people who own a great number of books and — this is critical — have managed to stage them in a pleasing manner.

If you’ve ever seen a Nancy Meyers movie, the look might ring a bell. Warm and welcoming. Polished, but not stuffy. A bronze lamp here. A vintage vase there (with fresh-cut flowers, of course). Perhaps there is a cozy seating area near the floor-to-ceiling display, with an overstuffed couch topped with tasteful throw pillows.

Kailee Blalock, an interior designer in San Diego, posted a video to TikTok last month that sought to define bookshelf wealth and school viewers in achieving the aesthetic in their own homes.

“These aren’t display books,” Ms. Blalock, 26, cautions in the video, which has been viewed over 1.3 million times. “These are books that have actually been curated and read.”

This literary look, she went on to say, goes well with pictures hung willy-nilly on the walls, sometimes even partly blocking the shelves, as well as mismatched fabric patterns and a bit of clutter.

In an interview, Ms. Blalock expanded on her advice. “I think to really achieve the look and the lifestyle, someone has to be an avid reader and has to appreciate the act of collecting things, especially art and sculpture,” she said.

Though Ms. Blalock did not originate the term “bookshelf wealth,” her video has spurred plenty of online discussion. “The day I ‘cultivate’ books instead of buying what I like to read is the day I’ll know I’ve truly failed as a human,” one user commented. Others remarked how bookshelf wealth was less about reading and more about regular old wealth.

Breana Newton, a legal coordinator in Princeton, N.J., who posts regularly about books on TikTok, was one of the people who responded to Ms. Blalock’s video. “I am going to show you bookshelf wealth,” Ms. Newton, 33, says in a video of her own. “Ready?”

She then gives viewers a brief tour of her home, showing books everywhere — on shelves, in overflow piles here and there, and strewed across the bed. Absent is the sense that the rooms have been staged, or that the books were bought with the consideration of how they would look on Instagram.

In an interview, Ms. Newton said that she worried trends like bookshelf wealth encourage overconsumption. This year, she added, she is trying not to buy any new books.

Another critic of the trend, Keila Tirado-Leist, said in a reaction video: “Who does it benefit to constantly have to name and qualify and attach wealth to any kind of style or home-décor aesthetic?”

Ms. Tirado-Leist, a lifestyle content creator in Madison, Wis., likened bookshelf wealth to “quiet luxury” and “stealth wealth,” styles that have recently made social media waves.

Still, she was understanding that what drives a home-décor trend like this one is a desire to create a home that feels, well, homey. In another video, she described the idea of layering — that is, slowly acquiring pieces and building up to a finished look, rather than trying to buy a bunch of things all at once in an effort to chase a trend.

“Styling a home takes time,” Ms. Tirado-Leist said.

Another TikTok user put it more bluntly in a response to Ms. Blalock’s video: “Bookshelf wealth does not mean you have books. It means you have built-ins.”

Editors’ Picks

A Practical Guide to Quitting Your SmartphoneHow Sad Love Songs Tap Into the Chaos of DatingWhen WeightWatchers Ended In-Person Meetings, They Held Their Own

Madison Malone Kircher is a Times reporter covering internet culture. More about Madison Malone Kircher

[godesssiri]

Champaign Tastes on a Bottled Water Budget (because let’s face it, even beer isn’t cheap anymore) Thrift Tips

People are over living in white boxes. We now want richness and texture and colors and interest. Traditional design styles with lots of molding and detail and antiques are very in. People are making a living selling antiques online. Décor bloggers aspire to being able to bring back a container from European flea markets. People want to make their homes look like you have generational wealth.  But how do you have a home full of beautiful old things when you’ve got no money? Thrifting.

1. Always always check the art. Remember if you love the art but hate the frame you can always put it in a new frame, or makeover the current one. And vice versa, if you love the frame but hate what’s in it then it’s the simplest thing in the world to swap it out for something else, another piece of thrifted art, a print from Etsy or one of the many other places artists sell digital copies of their work, a color photocopy from a library book. And frames are very easy to make over, sometimes just changing the matting or painting a frame a different color or adding a little rub n buff makes a world of difference.

2. Rub n Buff or similar waxes are your friend for getting a gorgeous, antiqued look. The thrift stores are full of pieces that have great shape but they’re too modern looking for what you’re trying to achieve. But rub gold on the high points or a dark wax into the crevasses and suddenly they look completely different. I’ve got a ceramic parrot that looked very 80s when I got my hands on it but when I covered it with gold (leaving the original dark colors in the crevasses) he immediately looked like an antique. Just spray-painting something gold doesn’t have the same effect, using a wax creates depth.

3. Darken it up. Most old things are darker than new things. Darker furniture, fabrics, accessories, add depth and richness. If something is already dark, then when you thrift it then great. If it’s not then that’s what dye, paint, and stain are for.

4. Old souvenir pieces. I’ve got a load of old pieces that people have bought back from Greece and Rome, from Egypt, from China. They make my home look like it belongs to someone who has been on a Grand Tour. A lot of them are copies of ancient pieces which means they look timeless. They’re cheap tchotchkes that people have bought at gift shops but mix them in with old books and candle holders and natural pieces like chunks or crystal or large seashells, and they look classy and interesting.

5. Old books. Do you have any idea how many old books get thrown out by thrift stores? Like genuine antiques that get sent to landfill? Most thrift stores don’t want to deal with old books because they smell and harbor dust mites and are out of date and often look tatty. You may even be able to get a bunch for free if you sweet talk the volunteers. If you’re worried about dust mites, then pop them in the freezer for a few days. I know there are those who look down on people who use books just as décor, but if you using it as décor saves it from a landfill or a junk journaler and preserves it for a future generation then isn’t that a good thing?

6. Glass display items. Putting things behind glass makes them look lux and precious even if it’s some cheap trinket or even a bunch of dried leaves or other completely free natural items. Look for domes, plain clear vases you can turn upside down and glue a knob on top, display boxes holding ugly stuff that you can rip the ugly stuff out and re-purpose.

7. Antique reproductions. There’s been many points in history since humans started to mass manufacture stuff, that we have looked to the past a re-created what our forbears made by hand. There’s so much that ends up in thrift stores that looks old even if it’s no more than a few decades old. Cleverly mixing this stuff in to your décor can help you achieve the look of a home furnished with antiques at a fraction of the price.

8. Search ‘Old’ ‘Antique’ and ‘Vintage’ on FB Marketplace. Don’t get more specific than that, just literally type those terms into the search bar, set a distance you’re willing to travel, and scroll. People are always selling stuff that they don’t quite know what the heck it is, but they know it’s old. Yeah you’re gonna see a lot of trash but it’s worth it to find the treasures.

9. Candle holders and candles. I’m actually pretty meh about candles, I get why other people like them but scented candles mess with my allergies and I don’t get any joy out of candlelight – but if you feel the opposite to me, I do understand and encourage that. Candles are wonderful décor objects if you’re going to light them or not. Always check the section where your thrift store keeps candles, there’s often some really good ones. And candle holders come in so many different forms that you will always find beautiful and interesting ones. A figural brass candle holder will make my heart go pitty-pat. You don’t just have to use them for candles either, I have a gorgeously detailed pewter candle holder that I use as a display stand for a large mother-of-pearl shell, and my pair of huge Victorian cherubs currently have clear quartz crystals sticking out of them.

10. Actual antiques. I have hundreds of antiques big and small. I just tried to remember how many of them had been bought at actual antique stores and I think the total is 5. Real genuine antiques turn up in thrift stores All The Time. Sometimes the thrift store realizes what they’ve got and will price it up, more than you’d usually pay at the thrift but still way less than it’s really worth. Sometimes they don’t know/don’t care, they just want to turn over stock so they price it at whatever will get it out the door. You CAN furnish your home with antiques entirely from thrift stores. It just takes time and patience.

[starlightwayfinder]

hi. sliding in. is there anything u have been compelled by recently. maybe music or a book or the way light fell on smth (idk how to ask stuff like a normal person but feel free to gush about anything you want, if you'd like to :3 (no pressure of course!))

Thank you!

Speaking of the way light fell on something… I’ve actually been waiting for an excuse to gush about some of Scala ad Caelum’s art and ornamentation. I have a few headcanons and inspirations of my own, too. (I can’t take my own screenshots at the moment, so I’ll just see what I can find online.)

First—there’s a lot of cool things themed (appropriately) around light and color.

This stained glass platform is one of my favorites in the game. Stained glass is nothing new in the series, but this one is especially iridescent, which makes it extra cool in my mind. I also think it’s neat that stained glass was chosen to represent hearts, as if the light of their hearts is shining through/illuminating it.

Here’s some real life examples with a similar effect!

Similar to the stained glass are the mosaics:

You can really see the influence of Daybreak Town with these! The fountain is probably my favorite—it looks almost like a sun from above.

More real life examples—to me the swirls are reminiscent of wind and waves. For a headcanon of mine, I imagine there was someone in Scala who made kaleidoscopes kind of like these.

In addition to matching the aesthetic of the game, they also tie nicely into the theme of light.

There’s a fair share of things that relate to the sky and wind, which ties into the theme of “the heavens” as well. The pinwheels are like tiny versions of the windmills, which I think is super cute. I couldn’t find a picture, but there’s also a lot of dandelions. (In addition to drawing another connection to Daybreak Town, I like that they fit the theme of wind too.)

Okay so street lamps are kind of a given for a city, regardless of symbolism—but I think they’re the epitome of beautiful design so I have to gush about them, haha.

Just… look at these!! They are light and darkness,,, and you can even put flowers on them? I think the globe ones resemble the moon also. They’re so beautiful. I couldn’t find a good picture, but the ones in KH3 have banners hanging from them as well.

Last but not least is the printed/painted artwork. The Daybreak to Scala mural is my favorite—I love how it’s layered and moves to tell the story.

For headcanons, I like the idea of there being more of these mechanized storytelling displays. Maybe ones that depict fairytales of the other worlds. These puppet theaters aren’t exactly what I mean, but they’re the right idea:

And finally, I know Scala has some amazing libraries. I want to read all of these books!