Spring Perfumes

Floral notes:

  • Diorissimo, Dior
    Perhaps I’m biased because this is my perfume, but I love smelling like the spring all year round. Diorissimo is a muguet soliflore, and lily-of-the-valley always reminds me of May. It’s light, sweet, and gentle, like a morning in late spring.
  • Iris Nobile, Acqua di Parma
    Irises are flowers that I generally associate with the autumn or winter, because the fragrances they give off are so powdery and dry. However, this one belongs firmly in the spring category. With so many sweet floral notes (ylang-ylang, tuberose, orange blossom) you’d think it’d be overpowering but it’s remarkably quiet, lightly sweet, citrusy and subdued.
  • La Tulipe, Byredo
    I have never smelled tulips (I was not even aware that they had a fragrance, despite always trying to smell them in my garden), but I’m certain that if tulips had a smell it would be this.
  • Lilac Path, Aerin Lauder
    Lilac trees signal the beginning of spring, and this perfume reminds me most forcefully of lilac. It’s a very clean fragrance, but a true, realistic lilac.

Rain notes:

  • Aqua Allegoria Herba Fresca, Guerlain
    This reminds me of a Roman herb garden I once wandered into. There are sharp notes of mint and green tea, edged with citrus. It’s a herb garden in the rain.
  • Kerbside Violet, LUSH
    Another gentle floral perfume, this smells of a cottage flower garden on a rainy day. The earthiness in the perfume comes from the rosewood– its mildness makes it wearable and that’s also what gives the perfume the smell of wet soil and wood. 
  • Ylang 49, Le Labo
    Not as sweet as the name would have you think. It’s a cold, musty perfume, perfect for those walks in the woods on earlier spring days. The oakmoss and patchouli give it that slightly smoky, foggy aroma.The ylang-ylang here is subtle and lightly floral.
  • Angéliques Sous La Pluie, Frederic Malle
    Another rain fragrance, this one is tempered with berries (juniper) and spice (coriander). It goes from sharp and bitter to cosy and gentle as the spices fade away and the musk takes hold. It’s a refreshing and quiet fragrance that lingers for hours. Unobtrusive, but not characterless. 

Marine notes:

  • Florabellio, Diptyque
    This is an unusual fragrance: there are notes of the sea, slight bitterness, leather, malt, and yet it manages to hold up a floral character. I love the dichotomy of marine notes and floral notes here, and the unmistakable coffee that can be smelled right away

10 Days in Japan: Day 4

I’m in Japan. I’ve traveled halfway around the world to be here and I’m standing in the corner of a dark, dingy factory watching hot carbon steel cool on a bed of bricks. Just minutes ago those were cold, characterless pieces of steel, and now they are knives. In the course of the coming weeks those knives will be touched by many skilled hands in this small factory. The knives will be tempered, sharpened, polished, and sharpened some more. A wood handle will be attached to those knives, they’ll be boxed up, and shipped out. People will pay handsomely for these knives (they are some of Japan’s finest), and with any luck they will continue to make the knives better. Through years of use, and care, what was once faceless and impersonal will have soul.

Stay tuned for tomorrow as I learn to forge my first nail…  

All my best,

Peter Buchanan-Smith
Best Made Co.

Rolling my eyes in the zutara tag rn because someone just tried to say that zutara is just as bad as re/y/lo because it uses the “Female character used as a redemption mechanism" even though it doesn’t?? People who say that zutara is a classic example of that trope have no understanding of the ship because not only does that diminish and reduce Zuko’s arc, it completely erases Katara’s complexity and it makes her seem like this flat and characterless goody two shoes who won’t stand up for herself and will instead “love the villain better”

anonymous asked:

i just re watched beyond the mat and i think its very sweet that dean had just lost cas in the previous episode, and gets nervously flirty(?) around lawless - and then a season on got awkward and flirty around a waitress. just wanted to appreciate deans bi vibes with this ask but now im wondering if the writers are being constant w dean using coping mechanisms to avoid his worry about cas! :0


Ahh, Beyond the mat, another fantastic Dabb episode :)

I mean, Dean’s coping mechanisms have been the same pretty much for the whole series which I really enjoy, it means it’s easier to pick up on the subtle evolution over time…

For me there are three main coping mechanisms for Dean: hunting, sex and food

In season 3 when he knows he is dying he goes straight to find the bendiest one night stand of his life, he eats cheeseburgers like there’s no tomorrow (because there isn’t) for example and hunts, hunts, hunts. These continue throughout the seasons but there is a steady, interesting change over time.

During the pestilence episode it’s hammered home to us what his coping mechanisms are in the fact that he doesn’t succumb because he is a whole heap of ‘nothing’ inside and suicidal… the metaphor is showing us that actually what he is desperate for is not to have these coping mechanisms.

We also know that Dean is a bit of a neat freak in his own space from s8 and glimpses into how he folds his clothes in the back of Baby in 12x04 etc. We also know that he is in fact an excellent cook, enjoys ‘nesting’ in the bunker, thinks Jeoffrey is a dick…

These are fantastic metaphors, even more so now in ‘season fanfic 12′, thanks to Dabb encouraging the use of past subtext on to another level, Chuck bless him. He’s used food, sex, hunting, cleanliness and so much more to show the nuances in Dean this season *whispers I love you Dabb*!

I’ll go into the sex part now as that’s what you prompted me about :)

Originally posted by deanandcasstuff

It’s really interesting to see how he interacts with his one night stands throughout the seasons and I think there is a really clear reading that is become more and more obvious, culminating with 12x18 with what it is showing the audience about Dean and his emotional side.

Now I’m going to delve into these one night stands a little deeper and it shows a clear arc for Dean…

Keep reading

you know i feel really sorry for emilys character to be so characterless. she deserves better. but she is just so plain. no depth at all. and it is so sad, because had the writers decided to give her some backbone and she could finally idk like cut alison off and realise that she deserves better, then i might actually find interest in her.

but they were iconic man. the One True Couple. they changed the game for each other??? robert didn’t look at anyone else after his split with chrissie and before his relationship with aaron??? he has been in love with him for 2 years?? no one came close to aaron??? they were literal soulmates?? and you are telling me that robert would feel torn between Aaron, The One and that desperate, pathetic, characterless little thing?? and that aaron would put up with this??? 

which robron fan hurt you iain

kurenai24 replied to your post “Spider-man #15-16: A return to form for Bendis”

I take offence to the idea that Miles talks like a white boy, as if there is a set way a black, Latino or any other minority should speak. That’s gross af.

First I don’t care.

Bendis seems perfectly aware that Peter was younger and was in touch with lingo that a white boy in Queens would use. Mainly because he was raised in a predominately Jewish neighborhood so he took in language and terms like Tuchas and etc.

Miles has never used any Spanish in spite of his mother just recently using terms and his grandmother frequently speaking in such. That is peculiar that Miles just does not use any vernacular at all and frequently quotes predominantly mainstream media sans black or Latino geared media. There is also the fact that when Bendis does have Miles use slang, he uses them inappropriately or oddly e.g. Cray-cray, and seemingly has no idea how awkward it is that a kid from Brooklyn just does not speak like a kid from Brooklyn.

Peter has a Queens accent and it has been acknowledged several times that he is a New Yorker, but instead he has a characterless manner of speaking compared to say a Luke Cage or Nighthawk who even wear black culture attire(Nighthawk is wearing fucking Yeezy’s as part of his outfit).

Miles is black. Raised by a black and Latino family. He should have picked up on something. I am not expecting Miles to say deadass all of the time, but if you are going to gear Miles as the “Spider-man who is a black kid” do not disassociate him from the culture to fall in a default manner of speaking. If you are going to do so, have a reason why Miles talks like a prep kid from High school musical. What is the point of making him black Latino if you aren’t actually addressing idiosyncrasies of people of that culture.

The idea is that it made white culture a default when in fact Bendis should have picked up on it as soon as he made the decision to create Miles. 

It is called cultural relevance and it is most discerning with Miles. It is like Kamala Khan not knowing parts of her culture and the differences between Pakistani attire and Iraqi attire(hint: it is why Ms. Marvel is successful in the first place). 

anonymous asked:

Ok, so sorry to bother you but I've been a Grisha fan for threes years and picked up the last book of Ruining and Rising a little late. My favorite characters are Alina, Nikolai and the Darkling. Please Nikolina is way better than Mal. I'm getting a feeling as if Mal is characterless, and cold. Like I would love for Nikolina to happen but she's propably gonna end up with Mal anyways and my Nikolai is gonna be alone... -Lonely anon that needs someone to rant to

You’re not bothering me anon! But as a head’s up I should probably let you know that I might not be the best person to come to if you’re looking for someone to talk negatively about Mal. I love Nikolai a lot, but Mal is also one of my favourite characters in the series

I definitely have to disagree with the idea that Mal is either characterless or cold. He has moments of speaking coldly to Alina, for sure, but his personality is pretty passionate overall. He’s someone who deserted (an executionable offence) for the sake of Alina, despite the fact that they parted previously on bad terms (which was the fault of both of them). That’s a pretty passionate thing to do.

His character arc in Seige and Storm is pretty much the opposite of lacking character. He definitely behaves like a total jackass, and I don’t think there’s any excusing that at all. But there is a very good explanation. Mal isn’t Grisha. He’s used to being the golden boy in the relationship with Alina, the one who gets the attention while she’s the mousey girl who gets overlooked. The entire second book for Mal reflects his struggle to deal with the abrupt one-eighty in this relationship.

It’s not an attractive arc for him in much of the book. Jealousy, and people’s reaction to losing someone they love (and he is losing the Alina he has known for most of his life in book 2) seldom is. But it’s also a pretty natural way to react to the situation they’re in? It’s not admirable, but I’d argue that’s what gives Mal character. It’d be a pretty passive and boring guy who just rolled over and did nothing in the face of such a massive change in the girl he loves. Mal acts out because he’s completely powerless in this situation, and he behaves like an ass because he loves her, because he’s losing her, because he can’t do anything about it. If he were a prince, or a powerful Grisha, he could. But she’s slipping through his fingers, and the life they both thought they were going to have together, their dream, is rapidly becoming impossible.

This is an arc that lasts only for the second book. Come Ruin and Rising, Mal has nearly lost Alina again. He has also seen the devastation that the Darkling has wrought, and he knows without doubt that Alina is necessary in piecing Ravka back together, that Nikolai is. He also knows that he, personally, is not (that’s what he believes, at the very least). Instead of continuing to be a giant manbaby about the situation, he comes to terms with the situation.

He lets Alina go (which is in stark contrast to the Darkling here, lbr). Instead of trying to cling to her and getting angry that he can’t, he accepts that the life he wants with Alina isn’t a possibility, and instead throws himself into being whatever it is that she needs. (I’d also argue that this isn’t necessarily the only correct response here. It’s a mature response, but it’s also kind of fucked up to let someone else’s identity become your main reason for existence). He loves her so much that he won’t stand in the way of what she has to do, what she has to become, but instead will support her in the best way that he can.

That’s character. That’s growth. That’s definitely not cold.

LIKE I’M NOT HERE TO TELL YOU WHAT YOU SHOULD AND SHOULDN’T SHIP. I’m easily pleased, I’m happy to ship Alina with pretty much everyone in the series, including characters that don’t have surname and show up on maybe ten pages total. But I totally get that people have their OTPs and want to see them realised in canon, and it sucks when that doesn’t happen.

You don’t have to like Mal. But like, if you are going to dislike him, do it for reasons that are present in the text. There’s a lot about Mal that doesn’t appeal to people, just like there’s a lot about Nikolai or the Darkling or anyone else in the series that won’t appeal to other people. I hope you can still find things to like about Ruin and Rising, even if it’s not going entirely the way you hoped!

Plastic Fantastic ! By Peter Chang

“The materials I use are inseparable from my ideas – the plastics have a present-day integrity that reflects the age in which we live. Plastics, unlike some natural materials are basically characterless, anything you make out of them only adds!”

Bracelet: Acrylic, polyester, polyurethane, foam, paint, silver. Peter Chang (1944-)
Glasgow, Scotland 2004

Four hours. Berena Fic!

My setting for this would be after the first kiss, perhaps a month or so later but before/instead of the second kiss. Serena has a migraine and Doctor Wolfe steps in to take care of the stubborn little cinnamon roll. Looking after turns into something a little more… Enjoy! Inspired by the prompt by @inspired-scribbler , I hope you like it! XXX 

 Serena sat in the dark office, head in hands, gently massaging the top of her head in slow steady motions. Migraines. The bane of anyones life, especially an extremely busy, overworked consultant’s on AAU. “As if I needed anything else today.” she muttered to herself irritably amongst deep breaths. Paperwork towered around her, the looming deadlines weighing down on the atmosphere. Emails to answer, patients to see too, and most stressful of all - Jason’s girlfriend was coming to dinner. A home cooked dinner at 6pm sharp. “Exactly 6pm sharp Aunty Serena, everything must be perfect” he’d declared earlier that day. No pressure. She sat dreading facing the rest of the day. At this point in time she couldn’t even fathom turning the lights on. 

The office door opened and closed briskly, and with a flick of the switch the whole office was painfully illuminated with a bright light. “Serena?” Bernie said quizzically, surprised to find her colleague sheltering herself in the dark room. Serena groaned, wincing at the brightness. Bernie flicked the lights off, edged over to the brunette and placed a warm hand on her shoulder. “Serena?” She asked again. “Migraine.” Serena answered matter-of-factly, subtly very pleased Bernie’s long slender fingers were clutching her aching shoulder. “Oh bless you” Bernie whispered gently, crouching to the side of Serena. Her hand slipped to Serena’s upper arm, rubbing it comfortingly. “Can I get you anything? Water? Have you taken anything?” she asked. Serena inhaled deeply, “I’m quite all right, or at least I will be,” she groaned - “My head is throbbing, and all I can see are these bloody stacks of paperwork!” she waved her hand motioning to the neatly placed folders, that were indeed looming somewhat. “Ohhh dear,” Bernie said soothingly, “Perhaps home might be best?” she suggested. “Out of the question.” Serena responded sharply. “I have 101 thing to do here. I’ve taken medication which makes driving home out of the question, and to be honest home is out of the question anyway as Jason will have one bloody hundred questions as to whats the matter and whether I can still make dinner for 6pm bloody sharp.” she explained in one go, failing to take a breath. “Hey, hey, its okay.” Bernie cooed, sensing the stress Serena was under. Jason hadn’t shut up about his big date night all morning. Bernie’s comforting hand and tone was enough to make Serena well up, she was too tired for all the crap she’d had thrown at her that morning. A pain shot across her forehead, causing her to sink further into her hands. She winced. Noticing just what a genuine state this poor woman was in, Bernie decided it was time to take charge. 

She stood up abruptly, “Serena” she said firmly. “You need to rest. Now you know that as well as I do, so home it is Ms Campbell.” she unhooked Serena’s coat from the stand next to her. Serena exhaled. “I told you. I can’t drive having had my medication, and Jason will be home before long and quite frankly I cannot handle the poor boy today. So, unless you have any other marvellous suggestions Ms Wolfe” she answered tiredly. “I do. I will drive you home…” Serena opened her mouth to argue her point about Jason, but Bernie swiftly cut her off. “My home. No arguments. Its quiet, Morven and Raf have the ward under control. They can manage perfectly well without you and I for a few hours, and anyway, we both know we worked complete overtime last night. So, come on. No excuses.” she finished. Serena turned to look up at the blonde, who was already clutching her coat, touched she cared so much to formulate a plan. She felt herself welling up again, but quickly brushed it off and allowed sarcastic, stubborn Serena to take centre stage again. “Are you giving me orders, Major Wolfe?” she asked, raising her eyebrows cheekily. “If thats what it takes to drag you from this office,then yes I am Serena Campbell. Yes I am.” Bernie held out Serena’s coat and gestured to the door. Serena sighed, still unconvinced. “Serena.” Bernie said authoritatively, giving the brunette her best stern glare. Serena rolled her eyes. “Very well. Very well.” she took her coat from the blonde’s outstretched hand and put it on, adjusting her scarf over the top. “Meet me out the front in 5, okay? I’ll just clear everything with Mr Di Lucca. No slipping paperwork into your handbag either. The deal is you rest.” Bernie ordered, before smiling smugly and exiting the office. 

Bernie turned the key in the door, pushing it in to expose her sparse hallway. “Come in,come in.” she beckoned Serena in, taking her own coat off first before helping Serena out of hers. Bernie bent down and picked up the post, casually flicking through the letters as she made her way to the living room. Serena stood in the hallway, attempting to wrestle her impractical boots off, fascinated by the random shoes and umbrellas discarded around her and the little silver dish set on the side holding a mess of keys. Bernie set her post to one side and cast an eye around her apartment, suddenly reminded of just what a tip she’d left it in. She whipped around the room as rapidly as her long slender legs would allow her too, throwing magazines and strewn blankets into baskets, rubbish into the small waste bin, collecting up all crockery in sight. Serena entered the room, filling it with that familiar rich cinnamon smell, her whole presence making the characterless living room light up with a warmth Bernie was unaccustomed too. “Excuse the mess,” Bernie said sheepishly, plumping the sorry looking cushions on the sofa, “Sorry. Not many visitors, as you can imagine.” she added. “Not at all. Its lovely, very…. serene” Serena assured, glancing around at the rather sparse living space.  “Is the sofa okay? I have blankets.” Bernie suggested, gesturing to the long grey couch. “I could have fallen asleep on my desk the way I’m feeling so the sofa is a welcome luxury” Serena answered with a soft smile, sitting down delicately on the scratchy grey fabric. “I’ll put the kettle on. Cup of tea? Coffee?” Bernie offered, heading for the breakfast bar and small modern kitchen. “I’m fine thank you, I’m just going to have a lie down if thats okay.” she said, grabbing a pillow and placing it under her head, stretching out across the sofa before curling into a ball. “Of course. Doctors orders after all” Serena laughed faintly at Bernie’s little quip. “Majors orders more like. You have quite an impressive glare, I have to say” she giggled. “Well, I like to think there’s life in the old soldier yet. Try and sleep now, Serena, it’ll make you feel much better.”  she replied. “Yes Ma’am.” Serena said drowsily. “Please wake me up in an hour or so, we can get back to the ward - I’ll be right as rain after a few minutes shuteye,” she concluded before closing her eyes. “Of course.” Bernie answered, absent-mindedly making herself a cup of coffee. “Oh and Bernie,” Serena started, her voice already muffled with sleep, “Thank you. For bossing me around.” with that, she was seemingly adrift in much needed sleep. Bernie smiled broadly to herself, sipping her coffee and admiring the brunette curled up on her sofa.  

It was a good three or four hours later, and Bernie herself had dozed off in the great armchair that she’d refused to part ways with in the divorce. She woke abruptly, jerking her long limbs and shaking her fringe out of her sleepy eyes. She yawned, her attention quickly diverted to Serena who lay elegantly still, her breathing steady and rhythmic. She sat watching the brunette for a moment before rubbing her own eyes and gently drawing circles on her temples. Serena groaned softly, beginning to emerge from her slumber. She groaned again, stretching out her legs and slowly fluttering her eyelids open. Bernie looked up and caught the brunettes beautiful brown puppy dog eyes, misted with drowsiness. “Hello you. Nice sleep?” she asked softly. “Mhmm,” Serena mumbled contentedly, “I could ask you the same thing by the looks of it.” she added cheekily. Bernie stood up, “Busted,” she said, stretching her arms above her head, causing her shirt to rise and expose her naval. Serena found herself suddenly rather distracted. She closed her eyes again, sighing. “What time is it?” she asked. “Just gone four, tea?” Bernie answered. “Four?!?!” Serena exclaimed, sitting upright rapidly, causing her head to surge with pain once more. “I told you to wake me in and hour, Bernie! Its been four. Oh for God’s sake, that paperwork won’t do itself - and what on earth must Raf and Morven think!?” she barked. Another stab of pain travelled through the left half of her head, she winced, clutching at her scalp. “Hey, hey.” Bernie perched on the strip of sofa next to Serena, “You are not well, Serena. You needed to sleep it off! Dr Digby and Dr Di Lucca know that too and are not expecting you back in. You needn’t stress, it’ll only make things worse.” she affirmed, placing a hand on Serena’s arm. “Deep breaths now, or you’ll go lightheaded” she soothed. Serena exhaled deeply, “I’m sorry, I am sorry. I know I’m a stubborn old git. Thank you,” she conceded, eyes closed as she focused on her breaths. 

“Do you want to lie down again?” Bernie encouraged. “Better not, I’ll nod right back off and I fear I’ve overstayed my welcome already,” Serena chuckled half heartedly. “Never.” Bernie promised, admiring Serena‘s long dark eyelashes whilst her eyes rested shut. Serena opened her eyes, she was very aware they were now rather close. “Bernie, I, thank you… I mean, for..” she stumbled over her words, much too distracted by the soft blonde curls tumbling around Bernie’s delicate face, and the deep, smouldering eyes she was met with. Bernie looked at her so innocently, scanning every corner of her face, restraining herself from moving forward like she had that day in theatre. She searched the brunettes eyes, should she move away? She’d promised Serena they’d say no more about it. She couldn’t move, she didn’t want too. “Serena, I, its…” she started, unable to finish. Serena breathed in that subtle smell of vanilla, intoxicating. She leant forward, caught up in the moment, and began to kiss Bernie, softly then vigorously. She’d waited for this moment, longed for it. Bernie hesitated, then curled her hand around Serena’s neck, stroking the brunettes soft cheek with her thumb. Serena wrapped her arms around the blonde, clutching the back of her neck and twiddling the blonde straw with her little finger. They pulled apart, gasping as they took an overdue breath, nervously chuckling as they rested nose to nose momentarily. “I’m sorry..” Serena giggled breaking into a beaming smile, which Bernie could feel against her own lips. “Serena…you must be joking” she rasped. She leant in to kiss the brunette again, biting her lower lip and tracing her hands over Serena’s neat little ears. Serena’s hands meanwhile made it further into the blonde hair she loved so much, ruffling the tousled curls as she clung to Bernie’s lips. Bernie gently lowered Serena back onto the sofa, skilfully not breaking contact in the process, then gracefully lowered herself just above Serena. Serena entwined her leg into Bernie’s causing the blonde to fall on top of her, pulling her down and grasping her tight. The brunette rubbed her leg up and down the blonde’s as she adjusted her hand to cup Bernie’s sharp cheekbone. They remained lost in each other, barely stopping to take a breath. The phone rang. Bernie jumped slightly, and Serena groaned underneath her as they broke apart. Serena ran her fingers through Bernie’s hair as they rested momentarily, their faces slotting together perfectly as they both caught their breath. A few jumpy breaths later, Bernie nuzzled Serena’s nose with her own. “I’m sorry, I’d better get that incase it’s Raf, I said I’d be contactable if they needed me.” she explained breathlessly. Serena moaned, “Very well.” she agreed. Bernie pecked her on the lips once more before peeling herself off the brunette’s torso, dashing to answer her mobile. Indeed it was everyone’s favourite Scottish nurse. 

 Serena sat up, running her finger along her bottom lip, which had been so tenderly bitten by Major Wolfe. She listened as Bernie spoke to Raf on the phone, a marvellous air of authority in her voice, yet something reassuring about the words she spoke. She had a knack for that it seemed,reassuring people. Serena watched her as she gestured to thin air, admiring the beautiful woman who stood before her. 

Bernie had never before wanted to get off the phone so quickly, but she knew Raf had genuine motives. She caught Serena’s eye and the brunette winked cheekily. 

 "Ms Campbell? Oh Ms Campbell is just fine, I can assure you Raf.“ Bernie smirked down the phone, “The migraine seems to have disappeared quite miraculously.” - Via :)


If ever there was a word made to be cast in neon glow, it would surely be rainbow. And if ever there was an obvious way to market a motel, it would be with the excitement and impermanence promised by the appearance of this sky surfing arc. It’s a glass-tubed match made in heaven, which is why rainbow motor courts once dotted the North American roadside in such supply it was as if they foretold the next gold rush. 

What to say about rainbows? More than you’d think. Despite its apparently simple beauty, the manner in which this meteorological phenomenon is witnessed has considerable symbolic weight, particularly as pertains to our conception of the motel.

A rainbow is an optical illusion in which light refracted through water droplets creates a colour spectrum. In other words, these sweeping arcs are not physical objects that could be touched or approached. On the contrary, no two people can see precisely the same rainbow, as its appearance is always dictated by one’s relationship to the light source. 

That’s either a lot of pots of gold or no gold at all. We might all witness a rainbow but what exactly we see is determined by the point from which we’re looking. Perspective is everything. Similarly, a motel might pose as a place for family recreation and wholesome adventure or as an anonymous hideout for criminals and cheats. It’ll be whatever you want it to be, as long as you know it’s temporary. 

The motel itself is an optical illusion. With its dazzling neon sign, its nearly invisible one-storey structure, entirely characterless rooms, and oasis-like swimming pool, one can place any narrative he wants upon such a place. It’s designed from the first to be something that’s malleable, that offers itself up for definition and re-definition each time a new car pulls into the parking lot. 

The canvas is yours, dear traveller.

Photos by Jonathan Hartsaw, Deborah Jane Seltzer, Brent Moore, The Boston Public Library. Postcards via Ebay. 

anonymous asked:

thank u for making sandbox mode! I hope ur having a nice day! im looking forward to an evening of touhoumon fun now.

my free daily draw in granblue gave me a characterless SR weapon, anon

my world is destroyed ;_;

regardless though, have fun! here’s hoping nothing is broken beyond repair. i’ve basically stopped testing half the stuff i do lmao

anonymous asked:

unpopular opinion: I don't like the Mill :( It's so dark inside and characterless to me? those columns in the middle of nowhere and the blue/grey paint and high ceilings... I would have like something more like Wishing Well, you know? more wood and cosy, warm, more family-like. The Mill to me looks like a clothing store :(

I sort of agree (don’t have the line thingy right now)

I do like it, I can see it looking good when it’s finished and it’s more lived in. I think they are trying to combine both of their styles and right now you see more the posh style, I guess? I think once they moved in it will look way more cosy with all their things splattered about and pictures up on the wall and Liv’s backpack on the floor…..

anonymous asked:

lol why cant people accept their fav is problematic anymore this is too funny

its so funny….like i have a collection of fav characterless who are just. not good people. and i still like them because

I’m???? 23 years old?? i can separate those two things? Amazing.

Makoto Kikuchi. Japan Architect Nov 1988, 46
“The computer is itself a space and the omni-talented imitator of all things. In the beginning, it is only a characterless expanse. Then you call a name into this space by typing. In response to this name, a certain datum object is born and recorded into the system. It is bound by nothing and has no characteristics of its own.”

Exercises for Listening (I love you Honeybear)


- 1 (one) blazing hot August morning

- 1 (one) itchy mouth

- 1 (one) hung-over semi-hard-on

- 1 (one) ocean of hot, half metabolized brown liquor in your stomach

- 1 (one) 2 (two) week old inexplicable, looming dread*

- 1 (one) ‘68 Cadillac DeVille (any color, author recommends Primer White)

- 1 (one) intellect

- 1 (one) ego

- 1 (one) moment of clarity (subject to availability)

- $60

- the desert

- marbles

- ¼ Ib ground beef

- salt, pepper

* preferably an old, abiding one that you were damned sure true love was going to eradicate this time around

     Take blazing August morning and position itchy mouth and hot ocean anywhere within. Cough and clear throat (should taste like tar). Roll your slackened, puffy body onto the body of your loved one. Using your semi-hard-on, attempt to make display of virility and imperviousness to hot ocean of brown liquor in your stomach.

Next, drive across town in absurd vehicle and, using your $60, buy 2 (two) rounds of lattes at historic Hollywood hotel for you and loved one. Place marbles in mouth and attempt to describe inexplicable, looming dread. 

     Note: Lavish diversions will provide no significant relief from ILD

     Take his/her suggestion to make a trip to the desert. No one will be there as it is August and hot as all get out. 

     While in the desert, rapidly alternate between fey attempts at your best impression of a “happy-go-lucky” disposition and the black, all-consuming desolation you feel. Convince yourself that in order to maintain the affection and respect of loved one you must anesthetize, and condescend to, your own pain. 

     Using your intellect, isolate yourself from the legitimacy of your experiences (see: Mommy, God, etc). Keep believing that self-deprecating jokes and self-analysis are effective ways to 1.) appear in control and maintain aforementioned affection and respect from loved one and 2.) minimize true intimacy which would definitely, according to your fear, result in loved one realizing what a, like, characterless, weak, emotionally stunted little shit you are. Simultaneously, use the ego to nourish pain and establish its singular, unique nature in all cases applicable to you.

     Repeat until you feel fucking crazy. 

     Note: You are fucking crazy. The world is fucking crazy. Our appetites and needs and fears are all fucking crazy. Until you realize this for yourself you will remain incapable of taking refuge in, or even identifying with another person who realizes the same.

     With loved one, aimlessly walk into desert. Just keep walking and walking. 

     Climb up on to a gigantic rock. 

     Watch as loved one walks further and further away until he/she is about pocket-sized. Watch them crawl up onto a gigantic rock. 

     Wave at each other - note how small the other person’s insecurities, doubt, and pain appear to you, and conversely, how small yours must appear to them. 

     Savour moment of clarity and accompanying dissipation of isolation and dread. 

     Note: You in fact have not walked very far but have simply just made one gigantic lap around the rental house. You laugh maniacally. 

     You are now very hungry. Take ¼ Ib ground beef and vigorously knead in salt and pepper with clean hands. Form into patties and grill over an open flame to your preference. 

Makoto Kikuchi. Japan Architect Nov 1988, 45
“These seemingly solid objects appear in a plain, characterless space but only as long as they seem to be solid. All man-made things must crumble. Objects created in memory-space too must sooner or later vanish without a trace. But their image was that of something you had never seen before. Even if you have the idea of having seen them before, you do not know them. They are the things dreams of are made of—fragments from the future.”

One should get used to the idea that if everyone on Earth disbelieved, you would not disbelieve. Do not be an im’ah (characterless).” He was asked, “And what is an im’ah?” He replied, “A person who says, ‘I am with the people (I do what they do).’ Verily, there is to be no following examples in evil.
—  ‘Abdullah b. Mas’ud, Ibn Battah, Al-Ibanah Al-Kubra Vol.1 p.33.

honestly if there’s one thing I wish I could get through to people in fandom  it’s the fact that sometimes I like characters for what they could be and not for what they currently are

but everyone assumes that because I say I like a character, especially a problematic I must ignore their flaws; or if I write them growing past them, I feel like people think I’m erasing those flaws or ignoring them or that I’m trying to turn them into a cinnamon roll who has done no wrong

I’m fully aware that a lot of characters I like are pieces of shit, but I refuse to believe that they are fully irredeemable, and it’s that potential for redemption that I like. It’s about how I imagine them being after they realize they’ve done wrong.

but also like….not even for just problematic characters, but characters that people think are one-dimensional and stupid and characterless, background characters that people dislike for being flat or useless; I’m interested in what they could be if given the chance to grow on their own