Philosophy fresh cream warm cashmere perfume

Perfume recommendations please

2023.03.24 04:31 Kaidisdat Perfume recommendations please

I need recommendations for a new perfume for women! My favorite perfume that I have received the most compliments on by far is the Lancolm ‘Idole’ Le parfum. Although I love it, I really want to switch it up and find something new.
Idole The classic - Type: Floral & Fresh - Top Note: Citrus, pear, bergamot, pink pepper - Middle Note: Rose & Jasmine - Base Note: Warm Musks & Vanilla, patchouli, cedar
It’s kind of a fresh scent and I love it. On the other hand, I’m not into very fruity scents and a perfume I really dislike on myself is YSL Black Opium. At first I bought it thinking it’s fine, but overtime it just smelled weird on me. Im not sure why that is, considering how many similarities they have with Idole..
Black Opium - top notes: pink pepper, pear, orange blossom - Middle notes: jasmine, coffee, bitter almond and licorice - Base notes: Vanilla, Patchouli, cedar, cashmere wood
As for perfumes I do like: there’s Kilian “Dont be shy” and Baccarat rouge 540 ‘eau de parfum’. These are way too expensive so I’m just giving them as examples. If you have anything in mind that I might like and should check out, please let me know!!
submitted by Kaidisdat to Perfumes [link] [comments]

2023.03.24 01:20 dancergirlktl [Sell and Swap/US Only] Suqqu, PMG, MAC, Too Faced, Becca, Bobbi Brown, Benefit, Smashbox, Tarte, Urban Decay, Clarins, Charlotte Tilbury, Colourpop, Clinique

Hi all! Help me clear out my life of backups and samples I'll never use. Hopefully you'll find a new HG or something you've always wanted to try in my stash. I've priced everything to sell and do feel the prices are fair and low but of course I'm willing to bundle. The prices are based off what I actually paid for the products, not the retail price. I buy most things on sale and you'll get a discount on top of what I paid.


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submitted by dancergirlktl to makeupexchange [link] [comments]

2023.03.24 00:15 sassafras202 Not tolerating PIO shots well

Hi friends. I had my ER on Monday (20 ret, 18 mat, 13 fert). My clinic recommends a fresh transfer, so we have that scheduled for Saturday. They had me start PIO shots the night of the retrieval. I’ve done 3 so far and I feel like I’m going to lose it - I’m not tolerating them well at all. I don’t think it’s an allergic reaction, but I am SO sore the next day. It hurts to walk, sit, lay down, go up and down stairs… We do all of the tricks I’ve read about by searching on here. Warming the oil in my bra for 30 minutes before, using a heating pad beforehand, slow injection, butt massage afterwards, more heating pad afterwards. I’m using a foam roller and trying to walk around for 5-10 minutes after the shot. Nothing is making a difference and I’ve ended up with knots at 2 of the 3 injection sites. Today when the clock hit 5pm I had sheer anxiety and dread running through me when I remembered that the PIO shot would be in a few hours. I cried really, really hard - enough to worry my wife.
I tolerated the subQ stim meds and even the Pregnyl IM trigger just fine. Needles don’t scare me, and honestly the actual PIO shot itself is mostly painless with the lidocaine cream. It’s the horrible soreness the next day that’s rendering me couchbound, sitting on a heating pad for the entire day. It hurts to do anything and I’m not sleeping well at night because I can’t find a comfortable position (I’m a side sleeper, and both sides hurt).
The thought of doing another week of these shots (and then possibly 10 more weeks of them) actually brings tears to my eyes. I’ve cried more over these PIO shots than I have about anything else in this whole IVF process (which I recognize is a privilege, since my outcome has been positive thus far).
So my question is: I’ve read on here that some doctors prescribe suppositories instead. I’m planning to reach out to my doctor and ask if that’s a possibility for me. I’m aware of the logistical difficulties of the suppository (leakage, etc) - but is there any other reason not to ask for suppositories instead? Are they just as effective? Pose any higher risk of anything? Is the only downside just the leakage?
Thanks in advance, from one very sore heinie 😭
submitted by sassafras202 to IVF [link] [comments]

2023.03.23 22:56 propheticperfumes 7 Extremely Belated Nui Cobalt Yule Reviews ⚗️💙🌲🕯️

Hello my budding snowdrops and crocuses! Yes, yes, I know, “K,” you sigh exasperatedly, “why are you posting a review on winter scents at the start of spring?” Well, I don’t know about you folks, but despite what my calendar says, the gray skies, rain/snow, and my purple feet are all telling me that it’s still winter, and I’m also still using my most heavy and warm cuddly scents, so yule scents it is!
Jokes aside, I’ve had to deal with insane migraines, work stress, an injured knee (I’ve had an open wound and a limp for the past few weeks!), and a whole host of other issues, which is why I must apologize again to Forest and Josh of Nui Cobalt Designs for the long wait, and of course thank them for this opportunity of receiving samples in exchange for reviews. Thank you for always being so kind and gracious about my delays.
Just a quick note before I begin for anyone unfamiliar with this brand: NCD is one of my absolute favorite perfume house for a variety of reasons. Their site is easy to navigate, they offer samples, their TAT is lightning fast, their collections stay up for months and return yearly so there’s not really any real FOMO, their customer service is always polite and prompt, and quite honestly, their scents just really work for me and my tastes in general, as you will see down below.
And without further ado, let’s get into these reviews!
Emerald Velvet 🌲💚
Description: A regal perfume for your most special celebrations. Douglas fir, white sandalwood, heliotrope, pale amber, sweet oud, and a trace of brisk green cardamom. Wear to invoke the Divine Feminine in her most benevolent aspect. Anoint green candles to curry Her favor pay Her homage.
On skin: My family has bought some Douglas fir trees to use as our Christmas tree in the past, so I feel confident in reporting that this is a pretty realistic Douglas fir scent! I don’t really get too much of the other notes here, I think they all contribute to this scent, except perhaps the ‘brisk green cardamom’ note, because I am getting something a bit bracing from this. It stays the same throughout wear.
Overall thoughts: I was really curious to try this scent, as I adore Cloak of Evergreens, which is another NCD wintergreen tree scent. Unlike CoE, which I find to be a very jammy evergreen scent, and sweetened by a tea note, this is actually quite fresh and brisk. As someone who loves cozy incense and tea scents, CoE remains the NCD evergreen scent of my heart, but if you’re looking for a more straightforward fir scent, this is the one for you!
Icicle Tiara ❄️👑
Description: A diamond-bright blend to remind you that you are royalty. Nui's inscrutable Cold accord casts a glistening frost over delicate white tea, fine linen, budding blue lotus, pale amber resin, frozen forest musk and sparkling vanilla sugar.
On skin: I’m finding it hard to describe this scent as it’s conjuring more of a vibe in my brain than actual words (in a good way!, but I’ll try my best. The cold accord definitely gives off the sense of a winter atmosphere, minty or menthol-y. There’s the white tea, which is brisk and almost lemon-y to me, and yet the other notes like linen, lotus, and amber contrast this to somehow give a more cozy vibe. I don’t get any vanilla or sugar in particular but I think they’re sweetening the more bracing cold aspects of the scent.
Overall thoughts: I feel like this is one of those very NCD-esque scents; well-blended, delicate, and elegant. When I said this was giving me vibes earlier, I of course meant it’s serving Snow Queen vibes! I actually wore this out to watch Frozen on broadway and it matched my blue winter dress perfectly! While I tend to favor more heavy incense blends in winter, I can tell this one will be a favorite to wear on nights out in the cold, especially when I want to channel my inner Elsa!
Making Snow Angels ☃️🍪
Description: The scent of joyful anticipation. Homemade sugar cookies fresh from the oven. Wear this toasty vanilla scent to awaken the spirit of play and frivolity.
On skin: Unfortunately, I’m sad to report that my skin chem did not cooperate with this scent, and it appeared as plastic play dough to my nose, as some cookie scents tend to do. I tried it a second time a few days later just to be sure, but yup, the same plastic-y scent remains throughout wear time.
Overall thoughts: It’s unfortunate that this isn’t playing nice with my skin chem, but at the very least I can take solace in knowing that another of their cookie scents, Crone’s Cottage (a lovely honeyed oatmeal cookie and tea perfume), remains as one of my top favorites! For other gourmand scents, I’d recommend something from their April Fool’s gourmand line.
Twinkling Fairy Lights ✨🧚🏻
Description: A dynamic variation on our Winter favorite to invoke the spirit of the season. Golden copal and lemon sugar soften into classic cathedral incense and fluffy whipped honey, then nestle into dry vanilla bean and smooth white amber. Wear to turn heads and inspire admiration.
On skin: If, unlike me, you’re wary of incense, then don’t be! This scent is not at all heavy; on the contrary it’s a very airy and light scent. I’m getting mainly sweet sugary lemon, fluffy honey, and just a hint of cozy incense. It smells almost like one of those classic vintage sugar crusted candies that you can only get at old-fashioned sweet stores. If you’re also wary about the honey note and have not had the pleasure of trying NCD’s whipped honey note yet, it’s another of my many favorite notes from this house; so delicate and light and yet still adding an almost nectar-like sweetness. This dries down to a snuggly lemon cloud.
Overall thoughts: A very light-hearted and cute scent! As compared to the original, I think this is definitely sweeter and, of course, more lemon-y and I they are different enough that I don’t think having both in a collection would be duplicates at all. I don’t tend to wear citrus scents often, but I would definitely make an exception for this honeyed take. If you’re looking for a cozy lemon scent, do give this a try. I do wish the copal and cathedral incense were a lot stronger in this, as I’m a huge incense fiend; I hope those aspects will come out with age!
Ultraviolet Fairy Lights 🎆🧚🏻
Description: A sophisticated twist on our Winter favorite to invoke the season’s enchantment. Imperial iris and sugared violet soften into tonka butter, honey, and liatrix, then nestle into Dominican blue amber. Wear to escape the routine and gain a fresh perspective.
On skin: I’m going to say right off the bat that I loved this scent from first sniff so much that I’m having difficulty describing this other than a mental spam of pink heart emojis. It’s also, surprise-surprise, very well blended. If I’m not mistaken, Fairy Lights was not used as an actual base for this scent, meaning there isn’t any actual incense notes in here, and yet, what I believe to be the Dominican blue amber base is making this extremely cozy and warm all the same. The iris and violet notes add a very regal floral vibe without being too powdery or vintage for my tastes. The honey adds a beautiful sweetness but the scent never veers on cloying. I’m not very familiar with liatrix as a note, but apparently it is similar to coumarin, so it may be contributing an almost vanilla-like sweetness that I am detecting. And to top it all off, the tonic butter gives this a ‘my skin but better’ quality that comes out in the drydown.
Overall thoughts: Oh goodness, if I thought I liked Fairy Lights and Twinkling Fairy Lights, I absolutely adore Ultraviolet Fairy Lights! I’ve been slathering this on during the cold nights to give myself a boost of cuddly sweetness. Even though it’s very warm and cozy and sweet, though, I feel that this is actually a very regal scent due to the iris. An absolute smash hit for me, if that wasn’t already obvious. Do yourself a favor and try this one if you are at all interested!
Under the Mistletoe 🌿🕯️
Description: A romantic melange of white winter rose, frozen vanilla, a mahogany mantle decked with holly, golden spiced rum, gilded magnolia, and flickering candlelight. Wear this potion to attract love and encourage kisses.
On skin: There’s an unexpectedly extremely sweet bubble-gum like opening to this scent, almost like taffy, but I’m not sure where it’s coming from by looking at the description. There’s also definitely that candied rose note here that’s present in the famous NCD Love scent as well, but combined with that bubblegum candy cloud it’s actually getting too sweet on my skin. Over time the sugariness calms down some, but I still don’t really get any particular wood or floral notes just that taffy scent!
Overall thoughts: Y’all, I really can’t figure out where this bubblegum is coming from! It’s really unfortunate, too, as I don’t tend to like bubblegum bubblegum scents, and this is a bit too saccharine for my tastes. Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t a scrubber by any means, but it’s not for me personally, and I definitely prefer the simple elegance of Love over this.
Winter Warmth 🫖🔥
Description: A cozy potion for comfort and soothing. Earl Grey Tea with brown sugar and oat milk, sprinkles of nutmeg, ginger root, and allspice with the gentle smolder of cedarwood and mahogany. Wear when you need some extra grounding and stability.
On skin: This is another very well-blended scent, but I do think it delivers on what it says on the tin. It’s a tea scent full of spice and warmth. It’s not spicy, but I do definitely get the ginger and nutmeg. I also don’t really particularly get any brown sugar and oat milk, though they might be making the scent ’smoother.’ The cedar does impart a wood-fire aspect, but it’s not going all pencil shavings on me like cedar is wont to do sometimes, thankfully. Definitely a warm perfume!
Overall thoughts: As I said, it’s very much as described, so if the scent notes appeal to you, I would definitely give this a shot. I personally wish the tea aspect was stronger just because I love NCD’s tea notes, but otherwise, no complaints from me! This would be a great scent for someone looking to imitate all the coziness of a fireplace in perfume form.
Even though there were a few misses, which is to be expected with something as subjective as perfume, I can’t complain at all about this haul considering the likes and loves (I’m looking at you Ultraviolet Fairy Lights!) I’ve found. Considering NCD excels at snugly and comforting scents, their winter collection is always bound to impress; I also know that the Yule scents will be going down soon on April 12th, so now is a good time to try any scents that have caught your eye before they retire for a bit. That being said, I cannot wait to try their more recent spring scents, in anticipation of that season finally hitting the skies where I am as well. As always, please take care of yourselves.
~ Godbless and Godspeed, K 💖
submitted by propheticperfumes to Indiemakeupandmore [link] [comments]

2023.03.23 17:39 reach_vessel Top handheld milk frothers for 2023 & 2024 (Best Of The Best)

Top handheld milk frothers for 2023 & 2024 (Best Of The Best)
If you are looking for the best milk frothers let's start with the list.
1))) Zulay Powerful Milk Frother Handheld Foam Maker for Lattes
Click here to get Zulay Powerful Milk Frother Handheld Foam Maker for Lattes

About this item

  • Make Rich, Creamy Froth In Seconds: We coffee lovers are serious when it comes to our coffee. The Milk Boss Frother gives that professional finishing touch to your latte, cappuccino, macchiato or hot chocolate. Make delicious foamy creamer for your drinks at home without a trip to the coffee shop with your own milk frother. The benefits of having your own electric drink whisk mixer are endless, you can make your own best latte, you know your tastes best. Note: Packaging may vary.
  • Matcha Whisking, Coffee & More: Works better than a manual matcha whisk for making matcha tea and works far better than fork or whisk for coffee. It works very well to mix nutritious protein powder drinks with no extra container, blender or bottle shaker to wash. Use our mini mixer for your whisking and mixing needs: Give healthy shakes and smoothies a kick by adding powder or egg nog flavor and mixing.
  • Proven and Trusted Quality: We use only premium materials. The construction will last, backed by our Zulay Guarantee to not rust or break, ever. Our small and efficient coffee gadget works on all types of milk - half and half, creamer, soy, almond, cashew, hazelnut, whole milk, and other dairy such as butter or cream.
  • Easy To Clean and Store: The durable convenient metal stand gives easy access for foamy goodness in seconds. Cleanup for this matcha wisk & frother is even faster. To clean just put the whisk in hot running water and briefly turn it on – instantly clean! When stored on counter or table it sits nicely next other coffee accessories. Our powerful and durable hand-held milk frother is powered by two AA batteries (not included) with a compact electric design that easily fits in a drawer.
2))) ElitaPro ULTRA-HIGH-SPEED 19,000 RPM, Milk Frother DOUBLE WHISK, Unique Detachable EGG BEATER and STAND
Click here to get ElitaPro ULTRA-HIGH-SPEED 19,000 RPM, Milk Frother DOUBLE WHISK, Unique Detachable EGG BEATER and STAND

About this item

  • YOUR FAVORITE COFFEE EVERY MORNING: ElitaPro Double Whisk Electric Milk Frother delivers you rich, creamy froth just like the professional baristas, we guarantee our Milk Frother will deliver creamy, thick, velvety froth every time. to your latte, cappuccino, macchiato, Matcha or hot chocolate
  • BUILT FOR TRUST: ElitaPro handheld Milk Frother is made with hundreds of rust-resistant stainless steel whisks and a powerful motor that produces very little noise. FREE BONUS: Unique detachable egg beater, 2 in 1!
  • ELEGANT IN YOUR KITCHEN: The silicone rubber ergonomically handle is made to fit comfortably in your hand. stainless steel sand that looks elegant in any kitchen. froth your desired foam in as fast as 15 seconds, mix hot or cold drinks, blend your favorite cocktail, or even whip eggs.
  • EASY TO CLEAN: Cleanup for this milk frother is easy and fast. It is easy to clean by sticking the whisk end into a stream of running water or soapy water and giving it a short spin, then drying by pushing the button again for 2-3 seconds. ElitaPro hand-held milk frother is powered by two AA batteries (not included).
  • ELITAPRO: Here at ElitaPro we stand behind our products by offering an Unconditional Satisfaction Guarantee and 1-year Warranty. If you are not 100% satisfied, please get in touch with us immediately and we will do whatever it takes to make your ElitaPro experience a good one.
3))) Bonsenkitchen Handheld Milk Frother Foam Maker
Click here to get Bonsenkitchen Handheld Milk Frother Foam Maker

About this item

  • Perfect Milk Frothing - High speed rotation of food safe stainless-steel whisk and BPA free shaft, this handheld milk frother is perfect for creating creamy foam within 15-20s for bulletproof coffee, latte, milk shake, hot chocolates and matcha powder as well as a good egg beater
  • Ergonomic & Portable Design - Lightweight hand milk frother with an ergonomic handle makes frothing and creating delicate foam easily. Portable size is convenient to carry makes sure you can enjoy your morning coffee although in traveling
  • Classic Never Outdate Style: The coffee milk mixer is styled in silver and black color perfectly fit with any modern kitchen. Decent present for daily coffee drinkers
  • Easy to Use - Simple one-touch switch with a powerful motor but low noise level. Just put it into a container with liquid food up to approx 1/3 to froth. Please keep the temperature of the milk below 60 degree for perfect foam. Battery operated and 2 AA batteries included
  • Stainless steel shaft with food safe material is easy to be cleaned in mild soapy water with the whisk moving or just put it into fresh running water

4))) Bean Envy Milk Frother for Coffee - Handheld, Mini Electric Drink Mixer, Foamer & Frother
Click here to get Bean Envy Milk Frother for Coffee - Handheld, Mini Electric Drink Mixer, Foamer & Frother

About this item

  • Multipurpose: This versatile coffee frother expertly whisks a variety of hot and cold beverages including protein shakes, cappuccinos, matcha lattes, macchiatos, and powder drinks. It can even whisk your eggs!
  • Barista-Approved: Transport yourself to your favorite café every morning with Bean Envy's mini milk foamer that will always deliver a rich, creamy froth just like professional baristas.
  • Versatile: Featuring a powerful and robust, battery-operated motor (19,000 rpm), our handheld milk frother will froth your desired foam in as fast as 15 seconds.
  • Quality: With its ergonomic, silicone rubber handle and stainless-steel wand, this hand frother is built to last. When you're done frothing, rest your frother whisk on its sleek and sturdy stainless-steel stand.
  • Gift: No matter the occasion, our coffee mixer wand makes the perfect gift for the coffee enthusiast in your life. Great for travel, camping, entertainment, weddings, and anniversaries!

5))) PowerLix Milk Frother Handheld
Click here to get PowerLix Milk Frother Handheld

About this item

  • Get Creamy Froth Quickly: PowerLix brings you its small, portable handheld milk frother for frothed milk. If you love your morning coffee with lots of froth and foam, then you certainly want to have PowerLix frothing wand at home or your café style cappuccino. Great stocking stuffer stocking stuffers for men stocking stuffers for women. It comes with a stand accessories for easy storage and can be kept on the countertop.
  • Battery Operated For Perfect Froth in no Time: The handheld mixer is battery powered so you don't have to worry about cords and finding sockets. Heat up the milk, immerse the espresso maker into the cup and turn it on. This batidora de mano will start creating creamy froth on the milk instantly. Within 15 - 20 seconds, you have a cup filled with creamy froth and ready to go into your coffee latte.
  • Quality You Can Trust: Our milk whisk frappe maker is made of the best quality stainless steel. It has a powerful motor that gives you 19000 rpm and the dual spring durable long 18/10 food safe material stainless steel spiral whisk that won't rust or break over the time, delivers double the power of other frothers and professional espresso makers available. The power button on top makes it easy to use. The low noise motor barely makes a sound.
  • Beautifully Styled With Versatility: Great stocking stuffers for men, stocking stuffers for women, White elephant gifts, chiristmas gifts. The machine is beautifully styled in sky blue color to fit into any modern kitchen. It is lightweight and has ergonomically designed soft touch handle. Easy to use and easy to clean. This batidora de mano can be used to froth other liquids besides hot milk. Use it to make milkshakes for your kids or cocktails for your friends.

6))) Venigo Handheld Milk Frother

Click here to get Venigo Handheld Milk Frother
  • ✅Make Perfectly Smooth Milk Foam: The Venigo Milk Frother quickly turns milk into foam within 10 - 15 seconds. In no time at all, you will have a cup filled with a thick, silky smooth foam that's ready to pour into your favorite drink.
  • ✅Froths Any Milk or Cream: Use our frothing wand on any milk or creamer of your choice. It works well with soy, oat, almond, cashew, and hazelnut milk, in addition to other dairy products such as butter and cream. It can froth both hot and cold milk for all of your favorite drinks.
  • ✅Blend Protein Drinks: Our versatile electric whisk perfectly blends protein and collagen shakes, and can be used to mix milkshakes, smoothies, cocktails, fruit drinks, scrambled eggs, oatmeal, soups, salad dressing, and more. The benefits of an electric whisk are endless!
  • ✅Easy One-Handed Operation: The Venigo Milk Frother is straightforward and easy to use. A single press of your thumb starts and stops the whisk, giving you great control over the foam thickness. A flat bottom conveniently allows you to set the device down without it tipping over.
  • ✅Proven and Trusted Quality: We only use premium quality materials in the construction of our products, including 304 food grade stainless steel for our double-spring spiral whisk. Our frother wand is built to last and is backed by our service to not rust or break, ever.
  • ✅Make Every Drink Special: Add a professional finishing touch to your latte, cappuccino, macchiato, matcha latte, bulletproof coffee, dalgona coffee, hot cocoa, or hot chocolate.
  • ✅Professional Coffee At Home: Make a delicious, decadent cup of coffee in the morning without an expensive trip to the café. Don't forget to practice your latte art!

7))) MPDPOW Milk Frother
Click here to get MPDPOW Milk Frother

About this item

  • [Ideal Gifts& Coffee Lovers] MPDPOW milk frother is a great choice as coffee gifts for coffee lovers and christmas gifts for men. This coffee frother can help you make a variety of drinks, such as Macchiato, Cafe au lait, Cappuccino, Latte, Cold Foam Iced Tea, Matcha Green Tea, Hot Cocoa, Dalgona Coffee, and more. This whisk is also suitable for stirring eggs, it will be a good kitchen assistant, so it is good christmas gifts for women mom, This can also be used as mens gifts for christmas.
  • [Super Powerful Motor] MPDPOW milk frother uses an upgraded version of the 2022 motor with a maximum speed d to 19500 RPM! No glass of milk is safe from this frother's frenzied stirring! Don't worry about the small size of this hand mixer, this mini whisk will have more power than you can imagine, it can make the perfect milk froth in 15 seconds! This can also be used as gifts for dad or gifts for men who have everything, Let him feel the power of the milk frother.
  • [Multi-capable Milk Frother] MPDPOW milk frother is certainly the successor of the frother for coffee. the MPDPOW frother handheld can make all kinds of drinks, hot and cold! From lattes, cappuccinos, milkshakes, macchiatos, frappes, matcha, bulletproof coffee, keto coffee, to making hot chocolate! This is the perfect gifts for the coffee fanatic or gifts for teenage girls and teenage boys!
  • [Slim Design] MPDPOW milk frother is only 10 inches tall, and the small size of this frother for coffee might make you wonder about its powerful potential. the MPDPOW milk frother's motor makes a soft whirring sound, unlike the noisy motors of some other brands. Its portable attributes make it a great choice for christmas gifts for him and boyfriend or girlfriend.
  • [Easy to Clean] MPDPOW milk frother makes quality milk froth in just a dozen seconds, and this matcha whisk & hand mixer cleans up even faster. To clean, simply place the hand mixer under running hot water and turn it on briefly, and you're clean! This milk frother is very suitable as coffee gifts, coffee lovers gifts for her, coffee gifts for women, gifts for coffee lovers, gifts for wife husband.
  • [Battery Powered (Not Included)] MPDPOW milk frother handheld powered by two AA batteries. (not included) The reason for not giving away batteries is that they are prone to damage during shipping and storage, thus affecting the buyer's applicable experience. This frother for coffee is suitable as coffee gifts for women, coffee lovers gifts for her, christmas gifts for women who have everything.
  • [Proven & Trusted Quality] MPDPOW hand mixer only uses high quality materials, which will always be our philosophy. MPDPOW hand mixer is made of high-quality stainless steel, which is guaranteed not to rust or crack. This coffee frother is suitable for women gifts for christmas, christmas gifts for mom, men gifts for christmas. They will like this coffee gifts because it can really help them in the kitchen.
8))) ZEBRE Electric Milk Frother
Click here to get ZEBRE Electric Milk Frother

About this item

  • 3-speed Adjustable Coffee Frother --- Press the power switch to make the coffee frother blue light work. Continue to press power button, the speed will switch between low speed, medium speed and high speed. You can choose different speeds to get the ideal foaming effect. (NOTE:Holding the power button for 2 seconds to turns the device Off instead of cycling through all the speeds. )
  • Double Stainless Steel Whisks --- The electric coffee frother come with completely food-safe stainless steel whisk, this milk coffee foamer will not rust or turn green after long time usage. Great for Coffee, Latte, Cappuccino, Hot Chocolate, Drinks, gives that professional finishing touch to your drinks.
  • Simple Cleaning & Storing Way --- Smooth stainless steel milk wand is so easily to be cleaned in the water. Put the milk frother whisk head into the container with water. Press on/off button. Wait for 2 to 3 minutes then turn it off and lift the frother slowly to stop running. Wipe the it and put the milk frother on the stand to dry.
  • Fully Equipped Set --- Come with milk frother wand,latte art pen,stand ,USB charging Cable,coffee stencils and user manual. Equipped with porcelain coffee stencils, just enjoy the fun of making classical latte art by coffee stencils and create incredible design with latte art pen by give the rein to your imagination.

9))) HOOCEN Milk Frother Handheld
Click here to get HOOCEN Milk Frother Handheld

About this item

  • 🌊【Frother with Stand】: The stainless steel stand is a giveaway package for the hand-held milk frother, which can be easily placed on the kitchen, table or any flat surface, compact and can be stored neatly.
  • 🌊【Battery Operated】: The milk frother is a dry battery type, powered by 2 AA batteries (not included), you only need to replace the battery in time when the battery is dead, so there will be no loss of wires or finding a socket , the mini size ensures that you can enjoy your favorite drink while traveling or on business trips.
  • 🌊【Easy to Clean and Use】: Simple one-touch button, low decibel, no noise, can be used for more than 1000 times. Just put it in the container with liquid food when working, then press the button to 1/3 foam, press the button again to stop working. If you want to clean it, just put the whisk in water or soapy water and press the button to spin it clean.
  • 🌊【TRUSTED QUALITY】: The milk blender is made of 304 rust-proof stainless steel, durable and rated at 6W, making creamy milk froth easily, perfect for coffee, latte, milk, hot water in 15-30 seconds Chocolate and matcha make foam powder, the noise produced during use is very low, low decibel, giving you a comfortable experience, the lightweight stainless steel and plastic handle design makes it easy for you to hold, suitable for any kitchen.
  • 🌊【Fashionable design and wide range of uses】: Chic and modern appearance design, more classy, ​​light and portable, ergonomic handle with excellent design concept, it can save your time and energy, not only can give coffee, Cappuccinos, smoothies, milkshakes, matcha, hot chocolate, mixed drinks, cocktails, make milk froth, and stir any liquid food like eggs and sauces.
10))) MatchaDNA Silver Handheld Battery Operated Electric Milk Frother
Click here to get MatchaDNA Silver Handheld Battery Operated Electric Milk Frother

About this item

  • Handheld, Battery Operated Milk Frother
  • Creates delicate foam for homemade lattes, cappucinos, hot chocolates, and more! Stainless steel shaft and whip
  • Stainless steel shaft and whip. ABS Plastic Body
  • Easy to Operate and Clean. Powered by 2 AA batteries (not included)
submitted by reach_vessel to blackfridaydeals2021 [link] [comments]

2023.03.23 14:11 FunnyWay4369 A Plentitude of Possibilities: Why we are Born only to Die

Why are we born only to die? This is a question we have been trying to answer ever since we as a species first evolved the ability to ask such questions.
Let us first briefly consider our ability to ask such questions and how is it we can formulate any questions at all. There has been some discussion recently on how we in essence 'hallucinate' our reality. While this is true to a large degree, it would be more accurate to say that we 'read' our reality. We process the stimulus we receive from external world and then transform it into language through the neural dynamics found in our cortical thalamic complex.
As we develop and mature our cortical/thalamic complex gradually creates a VR type experience for our consciousness, so gradually we no longer see what arrives at our eyes but rather is what is constructed from the direct sensory experience in the occipital lobe of the cortex - our visual center. By the time we are adults our awareness can no longer directly perceive the external world. It can only see and hear the reprocessed reality as it is reconstructed from direct sensory stimulus, in our cortex. As adults we never see the outside world. We don't see the mountain. We only see the image of a mountain created in our visual cortex. Only when we encounter something that cannot be fit into any existing linguistic category do we see it before filtering and reconstruction within cortical visual centers.
We linguistically interpret and assign meaning to raw stimulus within our cortex which determines our subsequent response and behaviors. Under normal conditions if what we are experiencing cannot be translated into our existing vocabulary then we cannot act coherently and we will either freeze up or become completely uninhibited and out of control. The parsing of external reality into language is a reflex and it is normally beyond our ability to perceive this neurological process as it is occurring.
The answers to the nature of life, why we are born and die and how we can ask such things all lead to the same place and if one question is answered then all of them will be. Therefore I will begin with the nature of life itself. I will use one of the tools that western science adopted early in its history and that is dissection. Lets first dissect life and look at it in the detail that has been revealed throughout the hundreds of years we have been using this tool.
The first medical dissections were performed at the University of Salerno in about the 12 century. Now all these years later we have dissected much and we now have little pieces of everything lying around everywhere. Now we are dissecting some very large things and some very small things. Dissection reveals information contained or hidden beneath the perceptual paywall of physical boundaries like the biological membrane of the cell, or an organ like our skin or the boundaries of the earths gravity.
What we see in the modern world is the result of centuries of dissection and reassembly. Now after all the thousands of years of humans history there is one item that has been produced many more times and in larger quantities than any other single thing made by humans and their ancestors. Most people have no idea what this item is or how it works yet humans have made more of it than anything else by orders of magnitude. These are transistors which require more electrical energy than anything else ever mass produced by humans to perform their function as intended and have given rise to server farms that need the energy of a small city to function. This is a result of a history of dissection and reassembly without any underlying worldview or morality to guide the technological exploitation of the discoveries uncovered through the process of dissection and analysis.
Now at the pinnacle of our evolution we have completely remade ourselves and the world and the results appear to be anything but enlightening and emancipating. We have server farms that are using the energy of a small city and space tourism is well on its way. Unfortunately during our history of dissection we have ignored certain things discovered that do not support the underlying ideology motivating our technological innovations. The problem hasn't been in the scientific process but in what aspects of what we have discovered that have been followed up and not relegated to the the dark shelves of history and ignored. Our cultures idea of progress and evolution as a driving force of nature may be entirely misplaced and as 'superstitious' as any of the other antiquated views our culture has abandoned and transcended along the way.
The long delay in accepting the evidence of developmental neuronal death has been regarded as an historical enigma. Here is how the puzzle may now be solved. Nineteenth-century biologists saw that development has an overriding telos, a direction and a gradual approach to completion of the embryo, and also saw a terminal regression and final dissolution of the adult; but a fallacy arose when the progression and regression, which coexist from early development, were separated in their minds.
Development was conceived in terms of progressive construction, of an epigenetic program—from simple to more complex. For every event in development they attempted to find prior conditions such that, given them, nothing else could happen.
The connections and interdependencies of events assure that the outcome is always the same. Such deterministic theories of development made it difficult to conceive of demolition of structures as part of normal development, and it was inconceivable that construction and destruction can occur simultaneously. It became necessary to regard regressive developmental processes as entirely purposeful and determined. For example, elimination of organs that play a role during development but are not required in the adult or regression of vestigial structures such as the tail in humans were viewed as part of the ontogenetic recapitulation of phylogeny. Regression in those cases is determined and is merely one of several fates: cellular determination may be either progressive or regressive.
The idea of progress in all spheres, perhaps most of all in the evolution and development of the vertebrate nervous system, has appealed to many thinkers since the 18th century. Such ideas change more slowly than the means of scientific production; thus new facts are made to serve old ideas. That is why the history of ideas, even if it does not exactly repeat itself, does such a good job of imitation.
In the realm of ideas held by neuroscientists, the idea of progressive construction, of hierarchically ordered programs of development, has always been dominant over the idea of a plenitude of possibilities, from which orderly structure develops from disorderly initial conditions by a process of selective attrition.
How revolutionary could be the idea that there is a plenitude of possibilities, from which orderly structure develops from disorderly initial conditions by a process of selective attrition. The universe is not learning, experimenting, progressing, evolving and neither are we. The universe is already full of a 'plentitude of possibilities' and it already is what it is and is already all it will ever be... as are we. Whatever it is we think we are observing it is not progress or evolution in any sense of the word but is rather the processes of 'selective attrition'. The universe is something else much more and we are a part of it and need to look no further than within our selves since we are also part of that 'fabric' of the universe. Humans are not standing atop the pyramid of life but we are only one of many different morphological manifestations of the natural processes of 'selective attrition' which find us only different and in no way better than the other morphological and metabolic forms and components of the earths biosystem and its holobionts.
Recognizing the “holobiont”—the multicellular eukaryote plus its colonies of persistent symbionts—as a critically important unit of anatomy, development, physiology, immunology, and evolution opens up new investigative avenues and conceptually challenges the ways in which the biological subdisciplines have heretofore characterized living entities.
The processes of attrition affects 2 vectors in the realization of a particular existence from a plentitude of possibilities. In order for life and consciousness to exist in the earths biosystem 2 vectors must work together to maintain a fragile stasis between reoccurring periods of geological and cosmic instability. These vectors influence morphology and metabolism. Morphology is influenced and regulated by viruses and that still ill defined aspect of our biological reality they represent. Multicellular metabolism is regulated and influenced by chromosomal and nucleic genetics. When the environment changes then the viral component of the tree of life induces morphological changes in the life forms currently inhabiting the biosphere. Within the nucleus of the cell the genetic code is changed now producing biological forms that after development have the metabolism to exist in the new environment. Life consciousness has within it already all the plentitude of possibilities needed to exist in many different potential worlds and it doesn't need to evolve as it is already capable of arising in almost any conditions. Look at the many amazing ways that nature is already incorporating plastics into its ecology.
Unfortunately for us, our ill fated venture into space has triggered processes of attrition between these 2 vectors that are now adapting the morphology and metabolism of the earths biome in response to the time many of its lifeforms have already spent living in a gravity free environment. The different forms of life we have have brought too and from a gravity free environment are also changing. Switching from a model based on evolution and progress to one based on a preexisting plenitude of possibilities may affect the statistical significance of our predictive models. If we are not progressing and evolving towards something then what exactly is it we are doing with all our technologies but creating the conditions for our own morphological extinction?
The human species is an embodiment of the force of attrition in nature. As a species we have introduced a plentitude of possibilities into the biosphere by reshaping ourselves and our environment through our behaviors and in doing so we have fulfilled our biological function. The model is no longer based on the idea of progress so our behavior as a species need no longer be seen as progressive but as simply transformative. The organisms with the largest genomes are creatures like amoebas and lungfish which could be considered as very important gatekeepers and librarians of the biological information accumulated from eons of harvesting 'information' from an ever changing plentitude of biological possibilities. This information is stored within many levels of biosystem and are all connected by the viral and microbial ocean in which the overall biosystem is immersed.
It is creatures like these along with long living organisms like trees and fungi that are at the heart of the biosystem while the human species seems doomed to be little more than a brief biological storm arising and passing away in but a few minutes of geological time. We are no longer talking about a universe born from simplicity and its slow progression towards consciousness of which we are the ultimate manifestation.
Consciousness is the fundamental universal force that gives rise to the biological reality we inhabit. Most everything around us has consciousness and it flows through the underlying fabric of our existence via 'fields' generated by metabolic life, much like how electricity moves along a wire...flowing via the field surrounding the wire and not really within the wire itself. It is what is perceiving the perceptual experience created within the cartesian theatre of our human mind. It is the cortical thalamic complex that creates the unique type of perceptual experience that humans have. There is nothing unique about human consciousness only our perceptual experience. The human experience does not represent any type of progression or evolution of consciousness along an evolutionary timeline.
The only thing modern humans bring to the table is their own unique type of perceptual experience which is initiating behaviors that results in biological information that will find its way throughout the biome and will be stored for eons to come and long after we as a species are gone.
The organisms found colonizing plastics in the ocean, termed the ‘plastisphere’ [20], are clearly distinct from microbial assemblages found in the surrounding water [21] and can differ from those colonizing natural surfaces
The introduction of plastics into the ecology represents a new type of information that the natural biological world is already starting to use in many creative and unexpected ways.
The study of the basic philosophies or ideologies of scientists is very difficult because they are rarely articulated. They largely consist of silent assumptions that are taken so completely for granted that they are never mentioned. The historian of biology encounters some of his greatest difficulties when trying to ferret out such silent assumptions; and anyone who attempts to question these "eternal truths" encounters formidable resistance. In biology, for hundreds of years, a belief in the inheritance of acquired characters, a belief in irresistible progress and in a scala naturae, a belief in a fundamental difference between organic beings and the inanimate world, and a belief in an essentialistic structure of the world of phenomena are only a few of the silent assumptions that influenced the progress of science.
Basic ideological polarities were involved in all of the great controversies in the history of biology, indicated by such alternatives as quantity vs. quality, reduction vs. emergence, essentialism vs. population thinking, monism vs. dualism, discontinuity vs. continuity, mechanism vs. vitalism, mechanism vs. teleology, statism vs. evolutionism, and others. Lyell's resistance to evolutionism was due not only to his natural theology but also to his essentialism, which simply did not allow for a variation of species "beyond the limits of their type." Coleman (1970) has shown to what large extent Bateson's resistance to the chromosome theory of inheritance was based on ideological reasons.
One can go so far as to claim that the resistance of a scientist to a new theory almost invariably is based on ideological reasons rather than on logical reasons or objections to the evidence on which the theory is based. (Page 835).
What do we see when we look at a lion feeding on a fresh kill that is still alive while being eaten? Or a grizzly bear keeping its prey alive for days as it eats it? How about a herd of orca's slowly killing a blue whale? We look away in horror and disgust because we have no idea what it is we are actually observing. Our everyday perceptual experience provides no insight into what is actually happening as this untamed savagery unfolds before us. We have no words for the world as it really is since we very rarely ever perceive it as it really is before being processed and recreated in the cortical thalamic complex. That is what we see and we do not see the outside world as it really is.
A lion consuming a deer is not unlike 2 galaxies colliding. When one animal eats another 2 very large populations of trillions of separate and specialized cellular organisms merge together combining all their biological information as it is being generated in real time. This biological material is processed within the lion and then the viral components and other transgenic organisms move this information between different creatures picking up bits of information and moving it around the biome to be integrated into existing info and/or stored for later retrieval and integration.
Very little information is lost when the biosystem is working correctly. When it is not working properly then much information can be permanently lost very quickly. We see this as viruses mutate as they pick up new pieces as the processes of recombination unfold. In times of biological instability plagues are common as insects and rodents are very effective means of consuming this biological information before it is lost due to factors such as changing climatic conditions producing famine. The goal is not evolution or progress but the maintenance of a repository of biological information that allows the biosystem to self regulate its morphology and metabolism. If the organisms that act as gatekeepers, storehouses and librarians are lost then the whole biosystem will collapse.
It the the fundamental energy of consciousness as it 'flows' through metabolic life that powers the biosphere. Earths metabolism and morphology may not look like anything resembling how morphology and metabolism may arise elsewhere in the universe. Unusual organic molecules are being found in the atmosphere of Titan. One such molecule has only been previously found in interstellar clouds. As these molecules break down fairly quickly something must be producing or metabolizing them to maintain their presence in atmosphere. Like electromagnetism if consciousness is also a fundamental force then we can expect it to be active and appear in many different ways in different environments.
In two separate data sets, the team identified a strange fingerprint as that of cyclopropenylidene. Its presence is surprising – it’s a very reactive molecule, so in a warm(ish) environment like Titan’s atmosphere it should readily break down into other forms. As such, C3H2 has previously only been detected in interstellar dust clouds, where it’s too cold and diffuse for these kinds of chemical reactions to take place.
Life and consciousness is what is most unique about out planet so most likely related to...
The nature of consciousness as I am describing it gives rise to one quality that would make space travel somewhat irrelevant. This quality is also behind much of the fuss and importance that humans have made about different types of 'spiritual' experience from their earliest beginnings. Our consciousness is not attached to our own perceptual experience but can move freely, along metabolic highways, between all the perceptual experiences, arising anywhere in the universe right now. Every point on the torus is connected to every other point. The perceptual experience of the lion and the deer can be experienced and perceived through the shared dynamics of our own metabolic entanglements as we are all made from the same stuff. It is the 'one topology' suggested to exist in Velinde's and Hooft's model of entropic gravity and the cellular automaton. Morphology is the universal vector for perceptual experience. Metabolism is the universal vector for consciousness. - "If a phenomenon produces a large amount of entropy, observing its time-reversal is so improbable as to become essentially impossible. However, when the entropy produced is small enough, there is a non-negligible probability of seeing the time-reversal of a phenomenon occur naturally.
Malotki does admit that the English and Hopi systems of tense are different since the English system distinguishes past from non-past, whereas Hopi distinguishes future from non-future
Biological organisms produce heat/entropy. Think about how significant it is that life can live in external temps well below its own internal heat. Metabolic cellular processes are producing this heat. Biological organisms are not unlike little suns with their ability to produce internal heat. Our bodies are literally made up of trillions of little suns. From metabolism/consciousness arises morphology/perceptual experience. The positive energy generated by the activities of morphological organisms, each with their own spectrum of perceptual experience, counters the negative heat energy of the many metabolic states of consciousness which permeate the universe. When an organism is producing more entropy than the system can absorb that organism is removed or reabsorbed and replaced with one whose metabolism is in balance with rest of biome. When there is too much entropy things like the 'time-reversal of a phenomenon occurring naturally' are no longer available as part of our perceptual experience or vocabulary. Invariably most spiritual practices inadvertently result in the production of less entropy or in the balancing and stabilization of existing entropic forces.
The shamans of old may of been much more in tune with things then we give them credit for. It is a shame that most of their languages and way of life are gone. Like the American Indian I hold the view that the animals and plants around us are our older brothers and sisters and we should learn from them, take our place beside them and not seek to dominate and control but to share the world with them. We have become a species of attrition and seem incapable anymore of transcending our own nature. We cannot help but destroy what we cannot dominate and now we have turned on each other as there is very little left in the natural world for us to conquer. We are no more aware of what we are doing than the couple of meteorites that changed life forever for the dinosaurs. Maybe as Emerson suggested we have learned to ride in a carriage and lost the use of our legs while our giant follows us everywhere.
submitted by FunnyWay4369 to neurophilosophy [link] [comments]

2023.03.23 13:07 TeaAndCozy Nui Cobalt April Fools are coming! 1 RAVE review from past years (yes, only one, but it's a stunner)

The great news is, Nui Cobalt's April Fools collection of entirely gourmands is coming tomorrow (Friday, March 24)! This collection is well-beloved on this sub - so many gourmand-lovers here! (Which is really funny because Forest freely admits that she doesn't enjoy gourmands, so making this collection is always an interesting challenge.) Last year's release details can be found HERE, and you can find some tantalizing details about this year's release in their most recent Tiktok video. Apparently we can expect a Chocolate Fudge Brownie perfume, along with seven other new releases, several returning favorites, and some past April Fools that are being archived (discontinued, so they'll be selling off their remaining stock but not making any more). The newsletter will go out tonight, so we can find out all the details soon!
Now if you know me and my perfume preferences, you'll know that I am not a gourmand girl. They do a lot of delicious-sounding dessert perfumes, but most of them sound like they have too much butter or pastry or sugar or otherwise much-too foody notes for me, so I typically sit out the April Fools collection. With one notable exception:
Blarney: Irish Breakfast Tea [The warm, tannic comfort of a proper Cuppa sweetened with a touch of raw honey and smoothed with fresh cream] - Friends, it is glorious. A cup of loose-leaf black tea - a different, less incensey tea than in other Nui Cobalt tea-forward perfumes like Unbought & Unbossed: A Tribute to Shirley Chisholm [The fragrance inspired by her is a strong and sophisticated spiced tea with raw honey and Barbados sugar sipped among the sunlit roses of the Brooklyn Botanical Garden] or Cloak of Evergreens [Snow-covered spruce, iced cedar tips, golden pine sap, icicle musk, and the fading memory of tea by the fireside]. There's a purity to Blarney's straightforward tea note, and the honey too is uncomplicated, pure honey. The cream note merely makes the scent a bit creamy but not lactonic, so it's a perfectly safe choice even for folks who (like me) sometimes get weird issues with milk or dairy notes. If you want a perfume that's literally the perfect cup of black tea, this is it! This is the only April Fools scent I've tried, but it is a stunner. (And if Forest ever wanted to make an entire collection centered around black tea, I would be here for it!) [This was a press sample provided by Nui Cobalt in exchange for an honest review.]
I hope a lot of you post reviews of your April Fools scents this year - though they're not for me, I love living vicariously through you, and I can't wait to hear what you think of the new ones! And if you have any mini-reviews of past April Fools scents that you can put in the comments, or can link to any review posts you may have put up, I'm sure they'd be extremely welcome, especially for new folks to this community who might not have been around last spring. (And who is psyched for Chocolate Fudge Brownie?)
submitted by TeaAndCozy to Indiemakeupandmore [link] [comments]

2023.03.23 12:17 browneorum NoP: Offspring. Chapter 27. Simbelmynë.

u/SpacePaladin15's universe, my story/characters.
Memory transcription subject: Yotun, son of Laenar and Arrut.
Date [standardised human time]: May 5th, 2120
(16 years, 4 months before the invasion of the gojid Cradle).

Yotun runs in the night.
He is running from the forest, from the chittering, clacking dead things that skitter across his trail. A phantom moon hangs above, a dark star shining shadows. It’s non-light leaves pools of moonlight in the gloom. The only true light, orange and warm, ebbs distantly from his home, barely visible downhill between the trees. He just needs to reach it…
His pursuers make themselves known with shrill shrieks; young brynn, flesh sloughing from their blackening bones. Many are missing large chunks of flesh, braying exaltedly as their viscera drag across the ground. The corpses press close, clipping at his heels, hooves clattering together as they stagger after him. They herd around him, giggling and squealing, trying to change his course.
“It’s not safe,” one whispers.
“Yessssss,” the others chorus.
“P-please!” he begs them. “Leave me alone!”
“Not safe!” They chant, their voices screeching like teeth on empty plates. “Not safe not safe not safe not safe!” They fill his sight as his feet pound the ground, their slacken faces and rolling tongues a grotesque portrait. Then he is running through the vineyards and up the cinderblock steps in three dream strides, the orange glow as bright and total as the dawn. He bursts through the back door. His parents are standing at the dining table, conferring in whispers as they peer beneath a massive sheet across it. They look up sharply at his hasty entrance.
“Oh,” his mother beams, lowering the cloth. “There you are.”
“Someone must be hungry!” his father laughs, the man smiling in a way he never seems to. Honestly. He is home, Yotun realises as his heart settles. He must be safe.
“C’mon dearest,” his mother says, “You’re just in time for dinner.”
He sits in his chair, the wood rough like bark.
“What’re we having?” he asks, looking down at the covered meal.
“Your favourite!” she squeals, pulling the cloth back. The table is covered with a fine sample of their vineyards and crops. Brightly coloured fruit, ripe and tender, paired with well roasted vegetables and seasoned tubers. Surely no other farmhands on the Cradle eats so well! But at the centre of the table sits the young brynn, blinking at them with dim animal eyes, its legs tucked tight beneath it. His mother moves to his left, and hands him a knife. Yotun looks uncertainly at his father, but the man just rubs his paws together, a big grin on his face.
“Go on, tuck in!” his mother says. Yotun gawps at her.
“N-no… I don’t want to…”
“You’ll eat it,” his father says sternly. “We put a lot of work into this.”
“No, I… p-please…” Something was not right.
“You won’t get your vegetables till you’ve had your brynn!” his mother scolds him. He sits there, open mouthed. Grumbling, Arrut snatches the knife from him.
“Here,” he says, “I’ll get you started.” In a swift, impossibly strong stroke, he cuts through the animal’s neck, decapitating it as if it were a stuffed toy. Blood splatters across table, soaking into the tablecloth; the head lands like a grim delicacy in the salad bowl. Yotun screams, covering his eyes. He slides to the floor, the tree giving up all pretence of being a chair. Without looking he knows he’s back in the forest, the smell of sap strong in his nose. A presence, felt but unseen, leans close.
“Are you scared?” she whispers, the words a breath on his throat. Yotun opens his mouth to speak but only a shrill wheezing comes out.

A rumbling sound woke Yotun with a start. He sat at the bus stop, fields of anuana stretching away on the other side of the road like a rolling avalanche. Down the road, the bus was approaching. Pulling his journal from his pack, he quickly took some notes on his dream before they faded. He had not been sure why Rylett was getting him to do so at first, all it did was reminded him of his dread, the terrible depth of his nightly terrors. But the more he did so, the more he saw in them. For one the smell might be more visceral, in another the colours more vivid. Some he would go most of the night without recalling any detail, save one sour note. Some days, some blessed morns, he woke not remembering a thing. A shadowy moon cloaked in light…
The transport shuddered to a stop, the blue paint chipping above the wheels. This far from the town of Yuret, the autonomous vehicle only had one occupant. The doors opened with a pneumatic hiss, Callio’s small pack bouncing as she skipped down the steps. The girl smiled as she saw him.
“Did you fall asleep?” she asked at once, watching him yawn and stretch. The bus started up again, emitting a low hum as it continued on its route.
“No…” he said, pawing an eye.
“Liar,” she said, sitting on the bench beside him. That woke him up. “So,” she said, swinging her legs. “You snuck out after all.”
“Couldn’t let you get lost on your own, hm?” he grinned, shaking his head. “If our parents knew…”
“Yotun,” she laughed, rolling her eyes as she jumped up happily. “That’s what the sneaking is for!” Callio put her paws on her hips.
“Ready?” she giggled. Yotun could not supress his grin as he stood.
“C’mon,” he chuckled, “it’s a long walk!”
The main road was not far from his family’s property, connecting Bendara on the western coast and Yuret to the southeast. Calling it the ‘main road’ was also something of a misnomer, as most traffic between the two settlements was airborne. Few, if any, would see the two teenagers wandering off into the woods.
The tour of the Brackwood had been more fun than he had expected, but Callio had become obsessed. Their time between classes was mostly spent talking about and comparing notes and drawings on what they had found on their respective borders of the territory. Callio had even brought in a dylia, a long, thin, green insectoid in a jar to show him. Rylett had not been impressed when she saw, even if she told them to keep it to themselves.
But that had not stopped them, and Callio still wanted to see more. In particular, she wanted to see the kuru again, those strange ghostly creatures.
“C’mon,” she had whined. “It’d take me so long to walk out there from my house. Couldn’t we go together? Your house is right there.” And he could not exactly say no to her, could he? She was his only real friend, and was it so bad if he wanted to spend some time with her? Shit. She’s sure plucked my quills enough to convince me of this, he admitted.
Winter was starting to wane at last, spring urging the forest to wake. This was a good time for his family, the vineyards starting to cultivate again. More to grow meant more work for his parents, which suited Yotun’s school break fine. It also meant that the dominar had shot up, and they had to cut through the roiling fields of sun-gold stems. A straight line turned into a meander, turned into a chase, the pair giggling like all children should, running beneath an open sky. Breathless, they exited the field on the forest side to find their path writ into the crop, as though a brynn had stampeded through. Not wanting to dawdle lest neighbour Maggit arrive, they set off into the Brackwood, roguish smiles on their faces.
Ahead, the snow had retreated back into icy caps on the mountains. All that meltwater would be turning the seas to a broil; even here in the foothills, where it was clear and sunny, there was still a wetness to the soil. The trees had started to sense springs coy fingers, drawing out the first hints of green and blue stems from renewed branches. Even in dead things, nature finds new life, Yotun reflected.
The pair made good time; Callio’s enthusiasm dragged him most of the way. They stopped to rest on his overhang before midday, where he had come to draw in solitude but had found then lost a friend. He had not come back since, but it was as he had left it all those months ago. The outstretch of rock with its log for a bench, a crowd of its living fellows standing cautiously nearby as if goading one of their number to lift its roots and plummet from on high. The wind whistled but carried no voice.
“Look,” Yotun said breathily, pointing downhill to the slab of grey amongst its rows of vines. “You can see my house from here.” He strained his eyes along the peaks to the southeast, then down into the plains. “And there’s Yuret.” he added, noting the peaks of silver towers spread between circular pastures of green. Callio was still admiring the property, watching the regular mechanical motions of the little drones spraying pesticides. From this distance they looked like insects themselves.
“Your dad’s still growing his trees?” she asked. Yotun nodded, gesturing to a seemingly barren patch at the forest's edge below them. His father had taken to the idea with a strange zeal.
“Down there.” He laughed. “Don’t know what’s gotten into him.”
“I think it’s nice,” Callio said with a smirk. “Don’t you?”
“I guess.” Yotun mumbled. “I just don’t see it lasting. He only cares about the vineyards, anything that doesn’t add to that…” He shrugged. “What about your dad? Isn’t he gonna be upset that you’ve run off out here?” She spun away from him, wandering up to the trees.
“He worries too much. I told him I was going into town.” With one last look down at his home, he moseyed after her. So brazen, he noted, the thought tickling him. Callio glanced at him as he joined her, her brown doe eyes narrowing with a smirk on her lips.
“What?” she asked coyly, tossing her head and folding her arms. “Do you disapprove?”
“Since when do you need my approval?” he laughed. “It’s just… out of character.”
“Oh,” she said, leaning forward with a scandalised expression. “And what exactly is my ‘character’?” Yotun chuckled.
“Little light in the tunnel, not one to work against the grain.” He smiled impishly. “What would they say of Miss Perfect stomping off into the woods with the likes of me?” Her smirk was fixed even when she rolled her eyes.
“Perfect, eh? Well would Miss Perfect do this?” she hooted, giving him a sharp shove. He fell solidly onto his rump, the damp forest floor wetting his fur. Callio’s snorting snigger at his shocked expression warmed him against the chill.
“Oh, that’s it!” he giggled, picking up a patch of sodden muck and flinging it at her with a hefty splat! She gasped, the girl gaping down at the brown mud coating her soft cream-coloured fur. For a moment, he thought he had ruined everything. Then her gasp became a giggle, became a cackle. He started laughing too, falling onto his back.
“Aha… You idiot!” she wheezed as she trotted over to him.
“Ah… serves you right,” he tittered wiping the dirt from himself, and taking her offered paw. It felt firm and sure in his own. Callio looked down at her mucky fur again.
“Papa’s gonna kill me,” she chuckled trying to work it out with her claws.
“Sorry,” Yotun winced. Such a silly thing to do. He ran a claw through a rough patch, gently teasing the dirt out. His paw drifted up the blot, and he felt Callio’s breath hitch as his paw moved across her chest. He froze, realising what he had absently done. Their eyes met, and he wondered if his own exposed his feelings so clearly.
She stepped away, abashedly, working up to the treeline again. Yotun’s brain was doing somersaults, whilst simultaneously thinking about soap for some reason.
“Woah,” Callio said looking up at the hollow tree, “that’s neat”. She stuck her head inside. “Ha! It’s super echoey.” Her voice boomed. “Listen to that! Helloooo! Hellllooooo!” There was a moment's silence. “Hey, come look at this…”
“What?” he murmured, bending down into the crevice beside her. She pointed to deep gouges on the dead interior.
“Claw marks,” she mumbled, following the trail up. “Something climbed up here.” Or someone… he ruminated, running his thumb across a deep scratch. She was always one step ahead, ever out of reach. “You alright?” Callio asked.
“Yeah, you just… reminded me of someone.”
“Someone good, I hope.”
They were very close, sitting in that hollow. He nodded uphill. “C’mon.”
“More climbing?!” she huffed. “I’m so tired!”
“It’ll be worth it,” he said. “I promise.”
During late spring and summer, the foliage grew too dense to pass through, blocking passage into the rest of the estate. But in the earliest weeks of spring the cut path into the Brackwood was clear enough to gain egress. He had only come out this far once or twice since he had first found that hidden trail, all those years ago.
The path, which started near his family’s vineyards, stretched up into a pass between two low mountains. Dormant trees, too high and too cold for spring, and any awlets nesting there were all who noted their passing. The higher they climbed, the dearer the drop to each side. Even the trees seemed to fall away as they walked, loose soil giving way to steep summits of stone. They were panting hard as they reached the apex, but a wall of white sound was all they could hear. Yotun wore a grin as they crested the rise.
Before them stretched the long descent into the west. Curving to the north, in a misty surge was the source of the white noise. The waterfall, pale and bright, flowed from a narrow opening in the solid granite; at least, it seemed narrow from this distance. In actuality the bus Callio had taken could probably be propelled out of that chute. It must have been carved out from tens of millions of years of thaw, tens of millions of springs. The water fell in a roar —crying liberation from the cold— into a massive lake at its foot, a tributary of the larger rivers in the forest. Though they could not see it, Yotun knew the river would be strong now, made all the harsher by Ki-yu’s rage. Down there, between the greening trees, the water was white and frothing with the last of winter’s bite.
“Wow,” Callio gasped, her fatigue vanishing. Her brown eyes followed the sharp folds of the mountains westward, the hidden slopes and valleys too few knew. “Okay… that was worth it.”
“Told you so,” he tittered breathily. “See that?” he told her, pointing to the most western and modest peak. “That’s where Turin found me when I wandered out here.” It was smaller than he had thought, more of a large hill than the mountain he supposed. He recalled surprisingly little from his march across the forest. His strongest memory was that he had to keep moving, and never go home.
“You did all that?” she glanced down into the valley. Yotun flexed his jaw, watching how the blue of the sky met with the silver mountains.
“Yeah, well… I couldn’t sleep.” Some little bellboys dove from a high point beside the waterfall, dancing through the mist to wash. Callio took his paw beside him.
“Thank you, Yotun.”
“It’s okay,” he said, looking up to gauge the sun’s passage. “We should probably head back soon.”
“Oh, couldn’t we go a little further?” she asked.
“I don’t know much more beyond this point,” he shrugged. She smiled sunnily at him.
“Pleaaase…” she whined.
“Well,” he sighed, as though he had not thought this far ahead. “There is one more thing. It’s not far.”

They followed the trail further along the ridge, the wind sweeping up to play with their fur. Eventually, a forest path cut off from the main trail, threading between the trees. The meagre offering of allfurs tried to form a thin canopy, their bristling green cones instead littering the forest floor. Brush and bushes also grew dense here, meaning they could see the sky far better than their feet. Still, the path was easier than he had expected and had clearly seen some recent use.
Callio did not seem to mind the detour, nor the difficult terrain. I could be leading her anywhere, and still, she follows me. She trusts me, he realised. It should not have come as a surprise, but something about that fact was a minor revelation.
Just when he was worried he had led them astray, Yotun stepped out of the treeline and into the sheltered clearing. A fresh crop of pale white blossoms with golden-yellow hearts had come up, a living echo of snow’s thaw. Beneath their green stems the ground was soft and rolling, warmed ever so gently by the sun’s rays. A log had fallen through the dell and across the thin trickling stream that cut through the idyllic little spot. Tiny insects flittered about on soft wings, dancing with and chasing each other between the petals. It was beautiful.
Callio almost pushed past him, stopping in her tracks. She spent a few seconds processing the image before her, then peered at him like he had just produced a hovercraft out of thin air. She laughed, covering her mouth with a paw, and stepped forward into the clearing. The bugs flew up at her passing, buzzing about her as she stepped through the petals.
“They’re so pretty!” she remarked, bending down to touch a crèche of white flowers growing in a mound.
“Evermind,” he told her. “Mother grows some by the window.”
“Oh!” she gasped. “Like the poem?”
“Poem?” He sat against the log.
“You know the one,” she laughed, tilting her head.
Leaf-maker, night-blind,
Candle in a jar.
For but a taste of evermind,
I wander, lone, afar.
With a sheepish smile, he bent down and plucked up a flower.
“Here,” he said, handing her the stem. “Now you won’t have to wander anywhere.” His own words sent something wriggling in his stomach, afraid of what he was saying.
“Silly boy,” Callio laughed but accepted the gift. She sat in the sun beside him.
“S-sorry,” he said clumsily. “That was really weird. Everyone thinks I’m weird.”
“You are weird, you silly boy!” she said sweetly. “It’s what I like about you.” Yotun smiled bashfully, words forgotten to the soaring feeling in his chest.
“I, uh… I do approve… by the way.” he said in hushed tones. Her eyes making his heart thunder. “O-of this… of you…” Callio twiddled the flower between her digits, glancing from its petals to him and back again. Then, she rested her head on his shoulder.
“F-for what it’s worth,” she breathed, “I think you’re perfect too.”
That moment, the two of them sitting alone, felt like he had dozed off in the sun with the promise of a night of summer dreams. If he shut his eyes he would fall asleep and never wake up and be happier for it. But instead, his eyes alighted on the gentle trickling stream. There was a sliver of swirling blue in its clear water. The wind changed, and Callio coughed.
“What’s that smell?” she murmured. A moment later the sickly odour touched his nose too. It was too familiar.
“N-no…” he said weakly. “N-not here…” Yotun jumped down from the log, the trickle of the stream cool between his toes. Callio called out behind him, but he was in a daze. It can’t be… please don’t be… He followed the brook to the crest of the clearing, the blue tide thickening all the while. The boy found what he did not hope to find, breathing heavily in shock. Callio ran up behind him, then gasped, a rapid whimpering sound.
Tied to the roots of the tree was the putrid corpse of a vyrryn. It was so old as to have started rotting, parts of the blackening flesh long since stripped away. He staggered backward. Rolling eyes, slacken tongue, a hole where the neck should be…
“Y-Yotun…” Callio whispered. “I- uh…” He took a nervous step forward.
“Oh, but…” Yotun gasped. “L-look…”
“I don’t want to look!” Callio hissed. “I want to go!”
“B-but the legs! They’ve been cut away!”
“S-someone d-did this…” Callio shuddered, pointing with a claw to the rope. “Yotun… Please, I think we should go!”
“Y-yeah,” he said, tendrils of terror tightening around his heart. “C’mon.” Without thinking, he took her paw in his and turned to go back the way they had come. They stopped.
Something massive was standing across the stream. Its four stocky legs were tipped with sharp claws. Its short-haired, fuzzy brown body was long, its frame too large for its gaunt flesh. But it was the eyes that embristled him at once; intense, golden eyes. Predator! his mind screamed.
“B-behind me!” Yotun hollered. The urge to run was overwhelming, but where to run to? The teenagers scampered backward looking about for a path through the trees, but the forest pressed too tight, the terrain too uneven. If it had killed and caught a vyrryn Yotun had no doubt this creature would run them down if they tried to flee. Instead, he held onto Callio tightly. The predator padded after them in a lethargic, almost casual stride, pacing back and forth across the clearing. Callio squealed as her legs touched the corpse of the vyrryn. It wants the body! Yotun’s panicking mind insisted.
“I-it w-wants the meat!” he hissed. Together, they moved sideways around the clearing. The creature’s long tail swished back and forth as it regarded them. Its broad nose took in the air, a wide purple tongue clearing a tooth. It loped forward, its paws thick and heavy, spreading its weight as it clambered over to the dead thing. It sniffed about it deeply, the teenagers moving back further. But their movement recaptured its attention, and it turned its massive head back to them.
“Wh-what’s it doing?” Callio whimpered.
“I-it’s more interested in us,” he gasped. Every slow step backward they took was mirrored by the predator. What do I do?! Where can we go?! They were rapidly being backed further and further into the treeline. All his nightmares seemed to swirl about him; the feeling of being trapped, hunted, and the feeling of broken bodies and shattered jaws. I have to save her… He squeezed Callio’s paw.
“G-get ready to run,” he gulped.
“Wh-wh-?!” He did not have any time to waste, lest his courage fail. He threw his arms out, baring his flat teeth as wide as he could.
“Find help. Go!” he shouted, stepping fiercely toward the predator. A short moment later he heard her beating a hasty retreat. “Yaaaaaaa!” he yelled, swinging his arms about. “Raaaaaaaaa!” It ignored him, tracking Callio’s passing. He stepped between them. Yelling from the top of his lungs.
It stalled for a moment and blinked at him. Then it growled.
His bravery faltered, and he took a half-step backward. That was enough. It jumped forward, slashing at his throat. Yotun cringed away, yelping as its claws left vicious cuts through his forearm. Instinctively he rolled onto his belly, his spines extended into a ball of spikes. He shook in terror as he felt its hot breath on him, a moment later whimpering, snivelling as it battered him again. The creature made a snarling sound, irritated by his spines. It hit him again, hard enough to knock the wind from him, the shock making him unroll. He looked up into the eyes of death.
H-hey!” he heard a thin voice yell as a rock came sailing into the animal’s flank. It spun about with a hiss. Callio stood there, brazen and afraid.
“Run!” he gasped. The girl turned in terror to flee, but in an instant it was on her. She was pinned, wild-eyed and screaming, on her back, unable to roll over and splay her spines. The sound seemed to fade, replaced by a thundering droning, a belt of pressure so tight around his skull he thought it had burst open. Yotun collapsed as he tried to lift himself, finding his left arm to be shredded, blue flesh peaking between his fur. His body felt leaden, unable to move. Time slowed as the monster bore down on Callio, her frantic, shrieking inaudible. The girl’s silent scream was choked as its great jaws clamped about her throat. The air was pressed from his lungs; nothing seemed to be happening, save that moment. Then there was a rumble, like distant thunder, more felt than heard. The animal recoiled as its side caught fire, dropping Callio limply to the dirt. A man with a rifle strode through the brush, the lever ratcheting again as he fired on the predator. Hissing furiously, the monster bolted for the trees, a round of sizzling plasma reducing an ear to a burned stump. In two bounds it was lost amongst the leaves, white fire chasing after it.
Yotun’s eyes drifted to his friend, her body lay twitching where she had been dropped. His arm flooded with lancing pain he crawled to her, pleading that she was alright. But in reaching her he found there a despair usually reserved for his nightmares.
Blue blood was staining her cream-coloured fur, droplets on the white flowers around her. Her paws curled slowly as she held them against her chest. She wore a strange, perplexed expression like she was trying to solve some particularly stimulating puzzle. Great holes punctured her neck, her head hanging limply to the body. There was a grip on his shoulder as he was firmly pushed away, the big brown man’s paws moving frantically through his pack. He was speaking to him, but Yotun only heard the pounding in his ears. I know him, don’t I? a part of him recalled. The man produced a medical kit, retrieving a bundle of gauze and pressing it to the wounds. It turned blue at once.
Callio was wincing, tears welling in her eyes as she tried to say something, something he could not hear. But he could see. All he could do was see. He wished he had never seen at all.
The big man was shaking him, and Yotun gasped in shock as awareness returned in a wall of sound.
“Yotun!” Braq barked at him, guiding his paw to the bandage. “Keep pressure here!” He did so at once, his stomach spinning. Callio made a muted sobbing sound, as his paw pressed down hard, her blood sticky on his palm. His left arm was afire with agony, but he ignored it; it was nothing compared to what he could see.
“I-it’s o-okay,” he told her. “I-I’ve got you.” Oh no… no, please, no… Braq spun around again, reloading the rifle as quickly as he could. He paced around them in a firm careful stride. “H-help me!” Yotun pleaded weakly, not to anyone in particular. Braq winced.
“I am,” he said, pacing nervously. Yotun sat there dumbly, Callio making weak sounds as he pressed against her open throat. It had all gone wrong.
“Wh-what w-was-!”
“A roht,” Braq murmured, pain etched across his face. “I’m so sorry lad.” There was a deep resonant growl between the trees, making Braq bristle as he re-primed the weapon.
“W-won’t it go away?!”
“No, not when there’s food to be had.” He peered back at them. “Don’t worry, helps on the way.” Yotun gawped at him, a look of terror and blame.
“Y-you said th-there weren’t any m-monsters in the woods!” Yotun gasped.
“I lied,” Braq whispered. A split-second later there was a crash through the bush, Braq raising his weapon swiftly. He fired blindly at his target, and there was a thudding sound. It was silent. The moment stretched out, marked only by Callio’s rasping breath against his palm. Braq stepped forward into the scrub, and swung the gun left and right as he moved in slow cautious steps. He disappeared from sight between the trees.
Suddenly he cried out in fright, falling onto his back into the clearing. The monster had pounced on him, the big man struggling beneath it with the gun in its jaws. Yellow teeth scratched at the metal. Abruptly a shadow exploded out of the bushes nearby, leaping at the predator in long bounding strides. The blur hit the roht across the back, lodging a knife into it as it went, the force of the collision dragging the predator from its prey. Rolling to its feet, the big brown beast hissed at its attacker, batting at it with a massive paw. The other leaped away, its lithe sinuous form more agile than any gojid. Its long snout sat before two dark forward-facing eyes, and its lips were drawn back in a hideous snarl. The two predators circled one another, growling and snapping as their tails hung low. The roht easily outweighed the newcomer two to one, but it was also clearly slower.
Yotun looked down at the girl in his arms. She was not looking at the fight for their lives, instead her soft brown eyes were searching his face as though he held some answer to a special question. Her eyelids started to droop, as though too heavy to bear. No!
“Callio?” he gasped. “C-can… p-please stay awake…” The predators nearby were diving and dancing around one another, the roht trying to rush in and push down the dark reptile. He pressed his palm harder to his friend’s throat, causing her to whine, tears filling her eyes. “Ju-just hold on, w-we’ll g-get you out o-of here!” Braq had rejoined the fray, the rifle discharging superheated bolts at the monster. Callio’s paw rubbed against Yotun’s cheek, brushing away the tears he did not feel.
“Silly boy…” she gargled, that light smirk on her bloody lips.
“I n-need to tell you something…”
“Tell…” she managed weakly but could say no more. Her eyes slid shut, her face went slack, and she died in his arms.
“Wh-?” he mumbled, peaking beneath the bandage. “Callio?” He put his head on hers; he did not know why. “Wake up. W-we’ve got to get home…” he told her. “Please w-wake up.” It’s a dream, a bad dream for my journal. “Wake up!” he all but yelled, shaking her broken body. “No…”
Yotun was vaguely aware that Braq had stopped firing, the rifle landing near him as the roht ripped it from the man’s grasp. Braq dove away as it leapt for him again, the shadow taking the opportunity to slash at its haunches. This drew a pained yelp from it, distracting the monster as it whirled to howl at the other predator. Seemingly emboldened, the dark creature attacked with renewed vigour, feinting one way only to pounce from another. Before him Braq snatched up the rifle, hastily slotting rounds into the chamber as the two monsters fought.
“Watch it girl!” he called out as the roht stood up to throw itself heavily at the black reptile. Girl? some part of Yotun’s grief and fear-stricken brain pondered. Whatever ‘she’ was she heeded his warning, rolling beneath and scrambling away from the beast. The roht was starting to lather from its wounds, panting and snarling fiercely. Sensing this, the shadow closed in, biting and slashing at it before darting away. Then she was too close for a moment too long, and the yellow teeth snapped shut around her tail. With a wrenching toss of its shaggy head, the roht flung the lesser predator across the clearing. With a yelp and a sickening crunch, her middle wrapped around a tree trunk.
“NO!” Braq yelled out as she fell solidly to the ground. She had stopped moving. The roht turned its yellow eyes on the gojids. It charged them, and Yotun sat there like a fiirit on the freeway. Braq tried to fire the rifle, but the mechanism jammed with a hefty clunk. Death then. With a terrific yell, Braq threw himself over them both, his broad spikey back flaring. The roht slashed at him, and both barked out in pain. It threw its head low under his spines, grabbing the ecologist by the ankle and dragging him away from the kids.
“Ah-yah!” Braq kicked savagely with his other foot, the claws jabbing at the predator’s face and freeing himself. For a brief moment, the man managed to wrestle his way on top of the creature, wrapping his muscular arms under its head and elbowing its skull repeatedly. But then the monster threw him from itself and pounced on him, Braq barely getting his paws up in time to hold back his demise. But it was a futile maneuverer, and Yotun could see the fear in his eyes the roht’s strength slowly overpowered him.
It killed her, and that dark thing, Yotun thought absently. Soon it’ll kill me, and everything will be alright. His only regret was that Braq would have to die as well.
There was a hollering yell, and then it was off him, the man sucking in air in agony and relief against the ground.
“Ki-yu…” Braq wheezed, trembling as he tried to force himself up. You see that bright one? a half-remembered voice flashed through Yotun’s mind.
The shadow was straddling the roht in the middle of the clearing, screeching at the top of her lungs as she slashed with her claws at its throat. Blue blood was being flung in all directions, the roht’s legs kicking desperately beneath her as it tried to buck the other predator off itself. Its paws scraped at her flanks, but the darkling batted the blows aside. The great beast tried to bite at the reptile’s throat, but she recoiled, and wrapping her clawed hands around the snout snapped it shut. Ki-yu let out a savage bellowing howl before she dragged the still-kicking predator's muzzle and head into her jaws. Yotun tried to look away, but he found he could not. The roht let out a strange bleating sound as great sharp teeth dug through hide and skull and eye and brain. With a sickening Ca-CRUNCH the predator's head shattered, and it stopped crying out. Stopped kicking. It did not even twitch.
Yotun realised he was screaming when his lungs ran out of air. The predator sat astride the roht with its teeth still lodged in the blue mess that was once a head. It was not looking at him, instead, it seemed to be panting. It wore a distant expression on its face, its dark eyes unfocused.
With his unmauled arm, Yotun reached for the rifle. The movement seemed to awake the creature, and it shook its mouth free of the shattered skull with short jerking motions. He pulled it up, heavy and clumsy in his shaking paw. The creature just watched him, its bloodied claws stretched out over its kill. He was trying to figure out how to shoot the thing when Braq limped over and pulled the rifle forcefully from him. He fell to his knees before them, his paws moving desperately over Callio’s corpse.
“Shit! Oh, no, oh shit shit shit!” he muttered to himself. He smelt of blood and sweat.
“She’s dead.” Yotun told him, as simply as if he had asked for the weather. The big man looked him so close and so deep in the eyes, Yotun could see himself reflected in his pupils. Braq hung his head, his heavy paw gripping Yotun’s shoulder. The boy looked up to see that the voice in the forest had ambled over to them. The woodwaif wheezed as she breathed, a strained expression on her long face as she clutched at her ribs. She dragged her tail along the ground, its middle broken where the roht had bitten it. Blue blood covered her, a trickle of red leaking from one nostril. Her dark scales glistened in the sunlight, her form supple and strong. She’s beautiful, he thought distantly as she towered over him.
“Please,” he whispered, “just kill me.”
Simbelmynë. Ever has it grown the tombs of my forbears. Now it shall cover the grave of my son. Alas that these evil days should be mine. The young perish and the old linger; that I should live to see the last days of my house… No parent should have to bury their child…
– Théoden, King of Rohan. The Two Towers.
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2023.03.23 04:24 MirkWorks Goethe and His Age by Anatoly Lunacharsky

The development of capitalism in the 17th, 18th and early 19th centuries, the rise of the bourgeoisie, the invasion of the world historical arena by this new class with a clear desire to take power into its own hands caused a number of phenomena not only of economic and political, but also of cultural and ideological nature.
England was the first to embark on the path of bourgeois development. In England, earlier than in other countries, there was a grandiose social explosion. And this era put forward in it a number of brilliant, brilliant researchers and poets – Bacon, Shakespeare, Milton, Hobbes and other thinkers, who reached unusually radical forms of crushing all the foundations of the previous society. A little later, France, in the footsteps of England, entered the same road and, preparing its Great Revolution, put forward a galaxy of amazing people whom the bourgeoisie could be proud of if it had not later renounced the best that was in their teaching. Here we see Voltaire’s corroding mockery, and the grandiose heart-warming, romantic rebellion of Rousseau against all the foundations of civilization and class order in the field of feelings, and a group of encyclopedists who, shaking with crushing blows the entire building of the old culture, laid the foundation for a new world outlook and a new society, recognized as “rational” and “normal”.
But if in England and France of the epoch of the bourgeois revolution there was no shortage of thinkers and poets, then the center of the movement of the bourgeoisie still belonged to politicians-practitioners. In these countries we have a “plebeian”, in the words of Marx, manner of completing the movement of the bourgeoisie: the heads of the kings were chopped off, the old aristocracy was dispersed, the internal boundaries between estates and principalities were erased, the laws were changed and the foundations of bourgeois democracy were laid with tremendous determination and consistency.
A wave of counter-revolution later tried to destroy what had been won, but nevertheless deep traces of the first bourgeois conquests remained, and the entire character of the further development of Europe depended on these grandiose events.
Things were different in Germany. In his remarkable book on the history of German philosophy and religion, Heine was the first to note this peculiarity with extraordinary sensitivity.
By the time a young bourgeois culture was rapidly developing in the West, Germany already had a certain stratum of the bourgeoisie and a group of bourgeois intellectuals who could not remain alien to what was being done outside Germany. But it was still a backward country. The German bourgeoisie did not have any significant masses who could support their leaders. And Heine notes with amazing insight that in Germany, deprived from the very beginning of the opportunity to act practically, the process of sublimation begins. Social activity, which is not expressed in action, is refracted into fantasy, into artistic images that are transmitted in music, books and paintings, into wonderful patterns of all kinds of ideological positions. This, too, is the creation of bourgeois culture, this also lays the foundation for the struggle against the old order, against old ideas, but this struggle is waged only with words, ideological weapons. German thinkers of that time were characterized by a distrust of immediate activity, of practical work as such. They are inclined to understand the very essence of the world, to understand the very essence of man in an idealistic way – the work of fantasy, intense thought is especially dear to them, it is through it that they lived.
Can we conclude from this that if in Germany the young bourgeoisie turned out to be weaker and more disorganized than anywhere else, then in its own field, in the field of ideology, it scored irreproachably brilliant successes? No, the matter is not so simple; the point is not only that Germany turned out to be a country of “thinkers and poets” and not a country of fighters and action.
When I noted the idealism inherent in the self-consciousness of German thinkers, I pointed out a thing that was unhealthy from our point of view, from the point of view of the proletariat, but not only that: the ideologists of the German bourgeoisie could not develop freely in general, even in the area in which activities were available to them – even their artistic creations are infected with the spirit of a certain backwardness, remain captive to the order that existed in Germany and differed greatly from the order that existed in other Western European countries.
Engels, in his article The Position of Germany, writes about the German bourgeoisie: By uniting with the people, they could overthrow the old government and rebuild the empire, as the English middle classes did in part between 1640 and 1688. and as the French bourgeoisie did at that time. But the middle classes of Germany have never possessed such energy, never claimed such courage; they knew that Germany was only a dung heap, but they felt good in this mud, because they themselves were dung and felt themselves warm, surrounded by dung. And further: It was one rotting and decaying mass. Nobody felt good. Crafts, trade, industry and agriculture were reduced to the most insignificant proportions. Peasants, traders and artisans experienced a double oppression: a bloodthirsty government and a poor state of commerce. The nobility and princes found that their income, despite the fact that they squeezed everything from their subordinates, should not lag behind their growing expenses. Everything was bad, and general discontent prevailed in the country. There was no education, no means of influencing the minds of the masses, no freedom of the press, no public opinion, no significant trade with other countries; everywhere there is only abomination and selfishness; all the people were imbued with a low, servile, vile huckster’s spirit. Everything was rotten, hesitated, was about to collapse.
The only hope for better times was seen in literature. This shameful political and social era was at the same time the great era of German literature. Around 1750, all the great minds of Germany were born: the poets Goethe and Schiller, the philosophers Kant and Fichte, and twenty years later, the last great German metaphysician Hegel. Every remarkable work of this era is imbued with a spirit of protest, indignation against the entire German society of that time. Goethe wrote Goetz von Berlichingen, a dramatic eulogy to the memory of the revolutionary. Schiller wrote The Robbers praising the generous young man who has declared open war on the whole of society. But these were their youthful works. Over the years, they lost all hope. Goethe limited himself to the most daring satyrs, and Schiller would have fallen into despair if he had not found refuge in science, especially in the great history of ancient Greece and Rome. By them you can judge everyone else. Even the best and strongest minds of the people have lost all hope for the future of their country.
Here is a general description of the position of these great men, among whom Goethe was the greatest.
Lenin taught us that there are two paths to the development of capitalism: the American path of development is the most decisive path in which capitalism flourishes rapidly and is able to mobilize large masses, sweeping all the rot of the past from its path, and another path, which was fatal for Goethe. Lenin called the Prussian path – characterized by the fact that the pressure of the growing bourgeoisie cannot destroy the dirty dams of feudalism and seeps through them somehow, the bourgeoisie does not have the masses who are able to wage a civil war with those who hinder the development of society, and as a result leaders, even the best, even the most perspicacious, the noblest, are forced to compromise with the ruling class; the clergy and nobility remain at the head of society, while the bourgeoisie, content with individual concessions, adapts, supports them. Goethe can also be called a victim of this path. His immense fame testifies to the fact that he did not become a victim in the end.
We know what the mature bourgeoisie brought with it to mankind and what the overripe bourgeoisie brings with it now – there is little good in this. But at the beginning of the movement, the thinkers of the young bourgeoisie, as Engels correctly noted, sometimes even jumped beyond the boundaries of the interests of their class. It is in the interests of their class, wishing to attract the sympathy of huge masses to it, that they say that the cause for which they are fighting is the “people”, that the life of people in the old regime is the accumulation of stupidity, that history until this day was nonsense, but that it will be so until the primacy of reason is proclaimed, when everything begins to illuminate the mind, everything will change and all torment will go into the past. True, with its further development, the victorious bourgeoisie by no means fulfills the promises of its bold thinkers. It is not the thinkers who come to the fore now, not poets or even politicians, but those who are the basis of the bourgeoisie – industrialists, merchants, and later bankers. They develop to astonishing limits the exact science and the technique, which is grandiose in scope, based on it. But at the same time, as Marx says, they unfold a cynical, naked mercantile spirit, they banish all traces of the past revolutionary romanticism, openly raise the question of a lord and, moving along the road of accumulating more and more wealth, ruthlessly trample human beings. The exploiting essence of the bourgeoisie is becoming more and more evident, and at the same time the antipode of the bourgeoisie, the proletariat, is growing. The bourgeoisie is betraying its old ideals. It replaces the red banner with a pink one, then a pink one with an orange one, and finally comes to a black reaction. It goes farther and farther backwards and again stretches out its hand to the nobles and priests. Now these latter are not the gentlemen who enjoy the support of the bourgeoisie; now the bourgeoisie is the master, resorting to the support of the classes that have lost their primacy. But all this creates in the imperialist world approximately the same reactionary mishmash that we see at the beginning of capitalism, which develops along the Prussian path. Now these sufferings appear from the overmaturity of capitalism, and then their reason was its immaturity, the slow pace of its development, imposing a stamp of painful inhibition on the creativity and life of thinkers.
All the features of the beginning of the Prussian path of development of bourgeois society to the greatest extent affected Goethe. There was not a single thinker, not a single poet of that time who with such force experienced the young, creative bourgeois principle, the spring of a new class, like Goethe.
A brilliant illumination of Goethe’s personality in its internal contradiction was made by Engels in his article German Socialism in Verse and Prose: In his works, Goethe has a dual attitude towards the German society of his time. He is hostile to it; it is repugnant to him, and he tries to escape from it, as in “Iphigenia” and in general during the Italian journey; he rebelled against it, like Goetz, Prometheus and Faust, showered it with the bitter mockery of Mephistopheles. Or, on the contrary, he makes friends with it, makes peace with it, as in most of his “Tame Xenia” and in many prose works, glorifies it, as in “Masquerade”, protects it from the historical movement pressing on it, especially in all his works, where he talks about the French Revolution. The point is not that Goethe supposedly recognizes only certain aspects of German life, in contrast to other aspects that are hostile to him. Often this is only a manifestation of his various moods; there is a constant struggle between the genius poet, to whom the squalor of his environment inspired disgust, and the cautious son of a Frankfurt patrician, or a Weimar secret adviser, who sees himself compelled to conclude a truce with it and get used to it. So Goethe is now colossally great, now petty, now he is a recalcitrant, mocking genius despising the world, now a cautious, contented, narrow philistine. And Goethe was unable to overcome the German squalor; on the contrary, it conquers him; and this victory of misery (misere) over the greatest German is the best proof that it cannot be defeated “from within” at all. Goethe was too universal, too active in nature, too flesh to seek salvation from squalor in Schiller’s flight to the Kantian ideal; he was too shrewd not to see that this flight ultimately amounted to a substitution of grandiloquent squalor for flat squalor. His temperament, his strength, all his spiritual direction pushed him towards practical life, and the practical life that surrounded him was pitiful. Goethe was constantly confronted with this dilemma: to exist in a living environment that he had to despise and yet be chained to it as the only one in which he could act. The older he got, the more the mighty poet, de guerre lasse, receded before the minor Weimar minister. We do not reproach Goethe, as Boerne and Menzel do, for the fact that he was not liberal, but for the fact that at times he could be a philistine; we do not reproach him for the fact that he was not capable of enthusiasm in the name of German freedom, but for the fact that he sacrificed his aesthetic feeling to the philistine fear of every great modern historical movement; not for the fact that he was a courtier, but for the fact that at the time when Napoleon was cleaning the huge Augean stables of Germany, he could with solemn seriousness deal with the most insignificant deeds and menus plaisirs of the most insignificant German court. In general, we do not make reproaches either from a moral or from a party point of view, but perhaps only from an aesthetic and historical point of view; we do not measure Goethe on a moral, political or “human” scale. We cannot imagine Goethe here in connection with his entire era, with his literary predecessors and contemporaries in his development and in life. We therefore confine ourselves to stating a fact.
But if Goethe was so polluted both aesthetically and in everyday life and politically, if he was so immensely captured by prejudices, then should we not say to the bourgeoisie: Goethe is yours, we have nothing to do with him, bury him, as you wish – let the dead bury the dead, and Goethe belongs to your world, the world of the dead?
Engels did not look at Goethe that way; he not only unconditionally calls Goethe the greatest of Germans, but, since this article was written against Gruen, against the philistine praise of Goethe, Engels adds: If we considered Goethe only from one side, then this is exclusively the fault of Herr Gruen. He does not at all portray Goethe in terms of his greatness. He is in a hurry to slip past everything in which Goethe is really great and brilliant.
In various places Engels points directly to the greatest achievements of Goethe. For example, Engels, in his article The Position of England, speaking about Carlyle, simultaneously speaks about Goethe: Goethe was reluctant to deal with “God,” he says, from this word he felt uncomfortable; he felt at home only in the human, and this humanity, this liberation of art from the shackles of religion, is precisely the greatness of Goethe. In this respect, neither the ancients nor Shakespeare can compare with him. But this perfect humanity, this overcoming of religious dualism, can be grasped in all its historical significance only by those who are not alien to the other side of German national development – philosophy. What Goethe could only express directly, that is, in a certain sense “prophetically”, is now developed and proven in the latest German philosophy.
No, in no case can we say to the bourgeoisie: Goethe is yours. Goethe belongs not only to the bourgeoisie, he in some way belongs to us.
How did this man develop and what did he bring with him? Here, like a lighthouse, the characteristic given by Engels shines.
What is this Sturm und Drang of young Goethe? All who saw Goethe in a circle of agitated young people who were disgusted by the surrounding squalor, who no longer wanted to live in a stinking darkness, who wanted to reveal, perhaps, not entirely clear dreams and realize them in life, all those who saw Goethe in a circle of these people, they speak of him as a brilliant phenomenon among secondary phenomena. He was a man physically, morally and mentally gifted to such an extent that everyone who approached him noted his exclusivity and remained fascinated by him.
On behalf of his generation, which called itself the generation of geniuses, Goethe, a true genius, posed a gigantic task for himself and for others. This task was not political, but purely individual: to develop all the possibilities hidden in a person.
This is the criterion by which it is possible to compare different social systems, orders and structures. Marx says that the social system is higher, which makes it possible to maximize all the possibilities inherent in man. Marx understands this in the most democratic way: the possibilities inherent in every person are inherent in all of humanity. For Goethe, perhaps this thought had a more aristocratic connotation, but not so much as to make it completely distant from the one expressed by Marx.
At the time of his eagle youth, in all the fullness of his energy, Goethe says that nothing excites him more than the church chant Veni, Spiritus, creator (Come, creative spirit): I know that this is not an appeal to God, this is an appeal to a person and especially to that person who is gifted with creativity; a creatively gifted person is a leader, an organizer. And a little later, Goethe says:
Why did I yearn to find the way to go If not to brothers afterwards to show?
Perhaps Goethe knew Kant’s definition of genius. For him, genius realizes everything as something natural, arising from his own individual essence, but what he realizes becomes an example and a law for others. We, possessing a Marxist analysis, can say that geniuses – deeply gifted people – form earlier than their class as a whole, what it needs, and their thoughts spread at lightning speed, become an instrument of self-knowledge of the masses. That was Marx, that was Lenin, and Goethe wanted to be that. But there was no class in Germany that could support him. Goethe felt very well that in the era preceding the French Revolution, the ideal was not destined to be realized, so that society would not interfere, but would help the development of a creatively perfect personality. He even has a presentiment that such outstanding personalities will certainly be defeated, will fall victims. He creates Prometheus, Mahomet and finally Werther – works that are, as it were, a recognition of the almost obsessive thought that there is no other way out of this catastrophe than death.
Everything in you sounds, and everything in you trembles, And feelings are darkened, and it seems to you – you proceed and you don’t, And everything around you is spinning in the night And you are more and more in your inherent feeling You embrace the whole world – then a person dies.
Death turns out to be enlightenment, death turns out to be the apotheosis. Why? What is this, mysticism? No, this is not mysticism. If from the greatest bourgeois poet Shakespeare, Goethe learned to a large extent such an understanding of life that it is not important to be happy, it is not important to be a winner, it is important to be great, it is important to live with such feelings, thoughts, to meet in life and create such events in it, oh which one could say: this is genuine life, full of activity, the greatest energy – then from another bourgeois thinker, from Spinoza, Goethe learned the knowledge of nature.
For Goethe, nature was everything, a single whole in which all parts are connected in some harmony. But more than Spinoza, Goethe had the idea that this “everything” is constantly being improved, that the processes that take place in the world make sense, because this matter, which has infinite possibilities and realizes them in its contradictory development through the action of separate parts on each other, constantly moves forward, to the better, to its highest development. This idea of development was generally at the heart of German idealism. And besides, Goethe assimilated matter as an unusually gifted artist; it was for him a combination of colors, sounds, smells, efficiency, pleasures, that is, it spoke to him through the unusually bright fabric of the most lively experiences. And he felt that being part of this whole was wonderful. He was perfectly aware that it is wild and ridiculous to oppose oneself as a part of the whole, one’s personality to this enormous light, this self-contained matter. But how to achieve this whole, how to break through to this whole through society, through that German society, which Engels spoke of as a rotting dung heap? It is impossible to break through, and Goethe is ready to admit the thought that there is no other gateway to nature as soon as death. In Ibsen’s Peer Gynt there is such an image: a man meets the Smelter, and the Smelter says: I collect buttons that have no loops and throw them back into the crucible, that is, people who are not needed for anything, death throws back into the flow of matter, because it is necessary to take into the alteration what has failed. And Goethe is a diamond button, and it has a magnificent loop, but there is nowhere to sew it; the caftan is useless. Therefore, despite the fact that it is not lower, but higher than reality, he longs for death. He himself did not die. He wrote only Werther – a thing that exposed the idea of death that shook the world and plunged many into the ranks of suicides. But Goethe himself remained at a dead end, at a crossroads, not knowing what to do.
And then the nobility in the person of Duke Karl-August of Saxe-Weimar offered Goethe an alliance. A lot of inaccurate and superficial things are said about this alliance. Meanwhile, this was the greatest event in the life of Goethe, and he thought for a long time before making this decision, that is, abandoning the role of the leader of the bourgeoisie. He knew that here he would have to grovel, to be in the position of a cheerleader, an entertainer, a maitre-d’hotel, to become the main clerk of his master, in essence, an ordinary one. When he went to the nobles, people like the republican thinker and poet Klopstock stopped shaking hands with him. Goethe foresaw this, but he did not know how else to live. A force bubbled in him that pushed him to creativity, to activity, to pleasure, and the nobility told him: come to us, we will make room, we will give you a place among us, you will be von Goethe, you will have money.
Goethe leaned towards this proposal, and here is his second downfall. The first downfall, which consisted in the fact that Goethe ceased to be a revolutionary-minded leader, was, in essence, fatal. For in what was then Germany the leaders lacked the masses. Now the question was posed, how to save your own life, to save it for the future? And this was done through the well-known self-sale to the ruling class of the nobility. And here the most terrible thing happened to Goethe, as Engels says, that one fine day he woke up in the arms of people like Gruen, that he allowed himself to be passed off as one of the main pillars of the reactionary philistine order of dark Germany.
Engels says about this: “History took revenge on Goethe for the fact that he renounced her every time he found himself face to face with her, but this revenge is not the yapping of Menzel nor the narrow polemic of Boerne. No,
Just as Titania in the land of fairy magic Found Nick Bottom in her arms, (Goethe, Warnung),
so one morning Goethe found Herr Gruen in his arms.”
Regarding Goethe’s alliance with the nobility, they say that this elevated Goethe, that from an agitated, unbalanced youth he came to real maturity. They call him happy, his destiny is ideal. And Goethe himself said about himself to Eckermann: They say that I am a happy person, but when I look back, I see an infinite number of renunciations, an infinite number of refusals from what I wanted. I see continuous work, and only occasionally is my path illuminated by a ray that resembles happiness. And so from the very beginning to the very end.
This was said by a man eighty years old, and he was speaking the truth, because these golden chains turned out to be heavy. From the very beginning, when Goethe arrives in Weimar, he makes a farce out of his own Werther for the sake of a new environment. He goes to Frau Stein literally in training, and Frau Stein pulls out of his wings all the feathers that seem to her insufficiently courtiers. She seeks to squeeze him into the framework of an ordinary courtier, and in this court life of Goethe, it must be said, shameful pages come across.
True, Goethe was incredibly exhausted and after a while was torn from Weimar. Almost without asking permission, he travels to Italy to get some fresh air.
A great man, a great burgher, who did not live in such a burgher society in which he could breathe freely, aspires to nature and society, but to the society of the past.
In Italy, Goethe finds the great remnants of Greece and the Renaissance of the great burgher eras, eras whose art skillfully portrays beautiful people, full of self-confidence, full of pagan passion and brought back to normal in the sense that their consciousness of their strength makes them calm and majestic.
Goethe creates an artificial world around him, but modern society buzzed his ears with reminders that he needed to return to Weimar. Goethe thinks of returning with disgust.
At this time, Goethe wrote his terrifying play Torquato Tasso. This play is not terrifying because its hero, an Italian poet, goes crazy. This play is terrifying in its intention, which consists in portraying a gifted, passionate, natural person, a real person who is brought closer to the court for talent, and he suddenly dares to consider himself not only a privileged jester, but a person equal to aristocrats and fall in love with one of the princesses. For this comes thunder and lightning, for this comes complete destruction, and moral destruction, because the princess also treats the poet’s love as if a monkey had proposed to her.
But this is not the main tragedy either. In this play there is Antonio, all of whose wisdom can be perfectly put into the words of the Russian proverb: “the cobbler should stick to his last.” And so Goethe comes to the conclusion that Antonio is a sage, that he is a bearer of real morality, and Torquato Tasso is a bearer of tragic guilt. He writes this in order to prove to himself: know, Goethe, your last, do not go where it is not necessary, do not go into the reformers of society, do not dream of putting things in your own way. You must know how to renounce: that is real wisdom.
And despite the fact that Goethe took the path of compromise, when he returned to Germany, almost everyone turned away from him. At court they hissed at him for leaving Weimar and thereby showing his contempt. The feminine Frau Stein writes first a novel, and then a play against Goethe, and Brandes, one of Goethe’s biographers, says that never did a jealous woman who hated her great lover write a book so slanderous and dirty. True, friendship with Schiller, another bourgeois genius, partly supported Goethe (this is not the place to talk about Schiller, although he had a certain meaning for Goethe).
From that time on, especially after the death of Schiller, Goethe covered himself with a cloak of majestic superiority, put on an Olympian mask on his face.
Goethe at this time is surprised: where is that eagle, that genius, which, like fire, soared upward? This majestic and calm man, whose muscles will not flinch? But this is also a deceiving mask. At this time, trembling all over, Goethe says: I cannot write a tragedy. It would drive me crazy! He hears Beethoven’s sonatas, he weeps in a darkened room and becomes almost Beethoven’s enemy. He says: If such music were performed by a large orchestra, it would destroy everything around it.
Engels says that the older Goethe got, the more he turned into a narrow Geheimrat. But Engels did not know some of the documents according to which we see the forces opposing this process. Even in the gray-haired Goethe, you can find out how much strength he buried in himself and how it sometimes bubbled in him.
Here’s what we can tell about it: after the expulsion of Napoleon, a reaction began, the princes sought to deprive the people of all those conquests which they claimed as a result of the liberation war.
Goethe was shocked by this sight, for which we now have direct indication. The physician Kieser tells of an evening on December 13, 1813, which he spent with Goethe: I came to him at six o’clock in the evening. I found him alone and unusually agitated, downright inflamed. I spent two hours with him and still did not understand him well. He unfolded broad political plans and asked for my participation; I was downright frightened of him. He seemed to me like a Chinese dragon. He was angry, powerful, roaring. His eyes were full of fire, his face was flushed, words were often lacking, and he replaced them with violent gestures.
But it is impossible to get from poor Kieser what these plans were. He only says that Goethe condemned the injustices accumulated over the centuries.
However, the next day, Goethe talked to a more advanced and intelligent man, Professor Luden. Apparently plans of active protest against the prepared reaction in view of their complete impracticability were not an option for Goethe. But this time we see what made Goethe so extremely excited: Maybe you think that the great ideas of freedom, the people, the fatherland are alien to me? These ideas are part of our being. Nobody can get away from them. But here you are talking about the awakening, about the rise of my German people. You claim that he will not allow the freedom that he bought so dearly, sacrificing his wealth and life, to be snatched from his hands. But did the German people wake up? The dream was too deep, and the first shake can not bring them to their senses. Don’t ask me anymore. The foreigners’ proclamations about us, I myself find excellent. Ah, ah, a horse, a horse – half a kingdom for a horse!
But they did not give him a horse. He was given half a kingdom, “half a grand duchy” was given, but he was not given a horse to lead some great political attacks. Goethe’s Napoleonophilia, however, was noticeable to everyone. He was quite clearly aware that Napoleon was not only an enemy of the fatherland, but that he was bringing with him a higher order. Ludendorff, the “Grand Marshal”, says that Goethe should be branded for not being a French-eater enough, but it is interesting that Madame Ludendorff published a book in which she claims that all great Germans were killed by Jews or Freemasons: in particular, Schiller was poisoned by the Freemason Goethe. This stupid and dirty book was sold in cultured Germany in thirty thousand copies. Already on this one can conclude that “righteous Germany” there is far from unconditional admiration for Goethe and shows a rather strange “critical” attitude towards him.
Of course, Goethe’s politics is the weakest side of his activity. Much closer to us is Goethe the philosopher, scientist and poet. But still, for the political characterization of Goethe, one more significant addition must be made.
By the end of his life, Goethe had already begun to notice the internal contradictions that the development of bourgeois society brings with it. He deeply loved work, loved technology, loved science. It was not these strengths of the bourgeoisie that repelled him; he was repelled by the mercantile spirit and the chaos that the bourgeoisie brought with it. Therefore, he tried to draw for himself a system in which the planned principle would triumph and where free and working people would be united in a labor union. This is reflected in the last part of the great dramatic poem Faust. These famous lines are very often quoted, but it is not superfluous to cite them again, for they show how Goethe goes beyond the borders of his century:
The last result of wisdom stamps it true: He only earns his freedom and existence, Who daily conquers them anew. Thus here, by dangers girt, shall glide away Of childhood, manhood, age, the vigorous day: And such a throng I fain would see,– Stand on free soil among a people free Then dared I hail the Moment fleeing: “Ah, still delay–thou art so fair!” The traces cannot, ot mine earthly being, In asons perish, –they are there!– In proud fore-feeling of such lolty bliss, I now enjoy the highest Moment–this!
Only the one who really creatively assists people, who does not yearn for peace, but fights for the victory of life in word and deed, who resists the forces that are trying to fetter them, only he can say that he has lived his life fruitfully.
So, Goethe the thinker and Goethe the poet are much closer to us and much more important than the politician. True, even in the field of socio-political work of Goethe, the progressive burgher-citizen always affects. Nevertheless, the revolt of the young bourgeoisie against the old world is felt much more strongly in the poetry and philosophy of Goethe.
The colossal power of his music, his images, comes from the youth of the class. As a rule, those who wake up to the creativity of the advanced class have a freshness of perception; they, like Adam, call everything with new names, they create their own language, they become a reservoir of everything that a renewed person can and should perceive. And Goethe says:
Love, hate, fear, tremble, Shudder to the core Life can embitter But without this it would be rubbish.
Goethe’s strength, activity, vitality do honor to the bourgeoisie, which gave birth to this eagle’s youth, but on the other hand, Goethe’s life is dishonorable to the bourgeoisie insofar as it constrained and limited his youth, and since it could never and under no circumstances fulfill the program of this youth.
As a poet, Goethe also has the ability to express what he feels with extraordinary power in images. Speaking about this, he characteristically puts suffering in the first place among all experiences: If an ordinary person falls silent in grief, then some deity gave me the strength to tell all my sufferings.
For a long time we will understand Goethe’s work, because now the time has come to understand it for real.
Above are some wonderful quotes from Engels, where he appreciates the deeply revolutionary character of Goethe’s philosophical concept.
I want to end my article with one philosophical letter from Goethe. This is one of the brightest, deepest pages that have ever been written. I cannot but share the joy that has seized me more than once these days. I feel myself in happy unanimity with close and distant, serious, active researchers. They acknowledge and assert that something unsearchable must be accepted as a prerequisite and an assumption, but that then no boundary can be set for the researcher himself; And do I have to accept myself as an assumption and a prerequisite, although I never know how I actually work? Do I not study myself incessantly, never gaining an understanding of myself and others, and nevertheless boldly moving further and further? So it is with the world: let it lie before us beginningless and endless, let the distance be boundless, impenetrable near; but this is so, and yet – let them never determine how far and how deeply the human mind is able to penetrate into its secrets and into the secrets of the world.
In this sense, I propose to accept and interpret the following cheerful lines:
“Into the inside of nature-” Oh you philistine! “Penetrates no created spirit.” Only may you not remind Me and my kind of this word Just don’t remember! We think: place for place We are inside. “Happy he, to whom she Only shows her exterior shell.” Nature has neither kernel nor shell, She is all at once. You should above all test yourself, If you are kernel or shell.
“Happy is the one to whom she only reveals the outer shell. I have been hearing this for sixty years, I scold, but I repeat myself thousands and thousands of times: she gives everything generously and willingly; nature has neither a kernel nor a shell, it is all at once; better test it well: you yourself are a kernel or a shell.” (The words in quotation marks are from a poem by the physiologist and poet Albrecht Haller).
It is clear what a philosophical mood, belief in knowledge, belief in an unlimited human mind is ours. As soon as the bourgeoisie begins to stop in its development, to decay, it departs from a realistic, creative and vigorous worldview.
We cannot fail to be analysts, to understand carefully and critically what the centuries of the past have left us, for they almost never give anything that would be acceptable to us in an integral form. The works of past cultures contain, along with the treasures, a lot of all kinds of rubbish that we must discard and separate. This is what we are doing now with Goethe. And we see that after that not only the best part remains of him, but also an essential part – that which was the most essential in Goethe himself.
They can also call Goethe an Olympian, stick all sorts of reactionary labels to Goethe’s forehead, but against them the voice of the proletariat is already rising, which is building a new world and which is arranging its own terrible judgment over the exploiting society and its culture.
Yes, the social revolution, which, as Marx said, may last for tens of years, is a terrible judgment, and not only because this revolution overthrows the enemies of the people in the social struggle, but because it is a judgment on the living and the dead.
Those who worked in former times, those prophets of our movement, who stood facing the rising sun that illuminate us now, are passing before the judgment of the proletariat, which is building a new life.
Before the court of the proletariat are representatives of other classes who have stepped over the boundaries of their class consciousness, created programs that this class could not fulfill and which another class is destined to fulfill.
As on the great fresco of Michelangelo stands the mighty figure of the proletarian, who overthrows what was considered great – here are the fragments of royal crowns, bankers’ gold, false laurels, etc., and on the other side those rise, the memory of which will not be erased for centuries.
This proletarian, political, cultural and artistic court addresses Goethe as follows: You must take off your gilded Saxe-Weimar livery, your mask of Olympic serenity must melt, because we know that beneath it lies a great man and a great sufferer. Leave what is imposed on you by the squalor of your time: you yourself know that from this you will only become better, much higher and much brighter. Enter eternity with those who contributed to the real rise of human society.
This is the meaning of the words of our teachers: the proletariat is the faithful heir of the great thinkers and great classical poets of young Germany, and among them, of the one who may be the greatest – Johann-Wolfgang Goethe.
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2023.03.23 03:13 Expert_Attitude_2548 Kayali Yum Pistachio Gelato 33 Review

Seeing how much hype was buzzing around this fragrance, I'd like to share my take as a gourmand lover with an extreme sweet tooth. For reference, I enjoy any scents that smell sweet/food-like such as Cheirosa 71, Al Rehab Choco Musk, etc. But I also enjoy fresh, clean/soap-like scents. I hope this review will help you form your decision if you're on the fence about getting this perfume! Please remember that this is from my own personal perspective.
If you tested this at a Sephora and asked me to tell you my honest thoughts, I would sniff your wrist and tell you that it smells like that default pink soap in mall/gas station bathrooms. That's how the notes collectively come together to me. It is not gourmand to my nose at all. I understand that Gelato will be on the fresher, lighter side as opposed to a dense thick ice cream; but this perfume smells too fresh and almost screechy. I've heard comparisons of this perfume being in a similar realm to Princess by Killian with that fresh gourmand take and I just cannot smell it. It is too soap-like with only a hint of sweetness in the middle to dry down and by the time it gets to the dry down, it's a complete skin scent. I'll break down the timeline of this perfume's development.
Note Breakdown:
In the opening, I get a sharp blast of bergamot and the cardamom is probably adding to that sharpness. There's this fresh green atmosphere to it. There's also an interesting dynamic with this fragrance where if I put my nose close to my wrist, the scent feels like it's wanting to singe my inner nostrils in a citrus/astringent manner. But if I move my head away, the sillage is struggling to reach out because of how light the scent profile is. These notes overpower the rum, ice cream, hazelnut, and pistachio because I cannot detect any booziness or creaminess. The pistachio and hazelnut are ever so slightly there, drowned in the background to where you might have to close your eyes and search for those notes. Quite unusual for pistachio to be in the name of the fragrance only to have some nuttiness in the background.
Once those middle notes roll in, it becomes a busy floral mess. I personally believe Kayali's team could've cut out most of the notes in this perfume. I understand they want to sway more into the niche side and not be linear, but this just smells really "busy". There's too much going on. The florals are indistinguishable from one another so they're all jumbled together and produce a soapy smell. I think the peach and pear are supporting notes to this bombastic raspberry because the fruity tartness is really prevalent here. So with the soapy and tart fruitiness notes coming together, it smells like the pink mall/gas station bathroom soap to me.
After the one hour mark, it's really become a skin scent and struggles to sustain itself on my skin. This is when the base notes come in and I finally get that sweetness peeping through more, in sheer disappointment. I feel like the sweet notes of cotton candy, whipped cream, marshmallow, Turkish Delight, etc. would've shined more if it was dispersed better throughout middle and base notes with the absence of the sharp astringent/citrus-like notes in the opening. The sweet notes are faint if you put your nose to your skin/clothes and nonexistent if you're just going about your day.
The longevity of this, despite being an EDP intense, is awful. It lasts an hour on my skin and maybe 3 hours on my clothes. The sillage projects about half a forearm's length away for 20 minutes before it gets lower into a skin scent at the 30 minute mark. It lasts even less than Marc Jacobs. At this price point, the performance is ridiculous. I understand that Kayali is a predominantly layering fragrance company so it would be obnoxious and clashing to layer with if they were all beast mode. However, Yum Pistachio Gelato has the worse longevity out of all the others in this house.
Now, what about layering? Personally, a perfume should be able to carry its own weight in terms of performance but I love layering to experiment and create my own bespoke scent. I've mixed it with two combos that Mona recommends, Yum + Eden Juicy Apple and Yum + Vanilla 28. Vanilla 28 enhances the sweetness in Yum but smells a bit dated and of a mature woman. Yum + Eden Juicy Apple is clean, fresh, and fruity but I really have to be in the mood to smell it since it still smells "busy"; like a jumbled concoction. Because it had pistachio in it, I also layered it with the Cheirosa 62 body mist. Yum gave the Cheirosa 62 a greener twist but the Cheirosa 62 dominated the Yum scent. In fact, the Cheirosa body mist lasts way longer with a stronger projection than the Yum Pistachio perfume. Layering will extend the performance of Yum Pistachio Gelato but not by a longshot.
Overall, this was a miss from Kayali in my personal opinion. I've enjoyed a few from this house but this one missed the overhyped mark it was given in all the promotions. I urge you to not blind buy this and to go into a Sephora to test it. Or get a 2ml sample from a decant Etsy/Mercari shop. If you enjoy fresh scents, you might enjoy this. But as a gourmand lover? You might be disappointed. I was disappointed despite enjoying both scent profiles and returned it to my local Sephora. If you still really want to get it and it's sold out on the Sephora site, head over to the Sephora shopping page on Instagram (which is where I got mine before it officially launched on the 21st).
Hope you enjoyed this review! Thank you for taking the time to read this!
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2023.03.23 01:23 mishkabearr Moving sale, huge declutter of many items for cheap - top brands, ND, Tom Ford, Chantecaille, Chanel, VB, PMG, Sonia G, indies etc - open to all offers. Thank you!!

Hi everyone! I am moving again and decluttering all the makeup that deserves a better home :)
Open to offers and bundles as well as I just want this stuff gone. Please DM me if you'd like more photos as my lighting is crap. If I don't hear back from you in an hour I will be moving on to the next buyer.
I come from a smoke free, pet free home. COVID boosted and healthy :)
Pricing will depend on weight and size of the package (i.e. how big of an envelope am I getting). Everything will be wrapped very securely.
Shipping to USA only, sorry. Shipping will happen this week dep on my schedule. Please be patient as I work a lot!
I am not open to any offers or trades.
Verification Photos

Eyeshadow Palettes:
Foundations and Concealers
Setting Sprays
Face Palettes
Brushes - all Sonia G
Skin Care

submitted by mishkabearr to makeupexchange [link] [comments]

2023.03.23 00:23 IamHammerhead I started chewing my fingernails and couldn’t stop.

My obsession began with a humble hangnail on my pinkie finger, a digit whose function, you must agree, is entirely ornamental. The hangnail pulled loops from my sweater and threatened to make worthless my silk shirts. This superfluous shard of my personage would never amount to anything so, I bit it off. I held the keratin splinter between my teeth and touched it with the tip of my tongue. Already it felt dulled, less angry. One swallow—a spark trapped in a bottle—and I was hooked. I dare say the advertisement I put in the Gazette the very next day was more of a provocation than anything else: Cannibal wanted. No creeps.
In all my 42 years, I never was a nail-biter—I simply didn’t have the anxiety for it—but now, I was eager to celebrate the rare perfection when, after delicate nibbling, a full crescent of fingernail pulled away from my cuticle leaving a pleasantly feathered edge. Patience never was my strong suit and fingernails can take a whole month between harvests. I was fortunate, though, in that I have always been blessed with uncommon flexibility and therefore found some comfort in nibbling my toe-nails like a baby newly born.
Despite my limberness, the contortions necessary and the manner in which I had been leaning to reach the littlest piggy, caused the finger on my left hand to go completely numb. The feeling brought to mind an old friend from school who lost this very same finger to a hungry garbage disposal system. If prompted, he would insert carrots into his gloved hand and, in full view of the substitute teacher, make a big show of cutting them off. It never failed to rouse the class to laughter. I made sure to fess up to having been the one who had goaded the poor lad so he didn’t take the burden of the punishment alone. He always claimed that his missing fingers inconvenienced him not in the slightest, but he was particularly terrible at ten-pin bowling. We never liked bowling, anyway.
He was a good person, that boy. But, more often than not, people disgust me. You put one small advertisement in the Gazette and it really is amazing how many supposed cannibals want to pleasure themselves while watching someone consume their parts. Perverts! It never was a sexual thing for me. Pure cannibals are hard to find, or maybe they just never read the Gazette. Either way I couldn’t wait so long for a dining companion. Cutting off my finger was an easy decision—as natural and inevitable as cell division. Had I been a starfish my fingers would have grown a whole new me from scratch. What a lark!
It’s usually the pain that stops ordinary people from achieving anything notable in life. Anything worthy of the Gazette. But pain of the person fades in time. Pain of the mind persists. For example: I don’t recall the pain of crashing my motorcycle into a willow when I was young and foolish, but I recall, with absolute clarity, my sweetheart leaving me while I was still in traction. She said she didn’t want to go to the prom with a cripple. My legs healed in time but my heart was eternally broken. That’s real pain right there. If the most painful thing you ever feel in life is a silly little finger being lopped off then you haven’t really lived.
Decision. Precision. Incision. All in quick succession. That’s how you do it.
I tied a rubber band around my pinkie until it was numb and laid it on the bread board then popped it off with a chef’s knife. It came away more easily and with much less sensation than I expected. I inserted the severed digit in my mouth—wider, wider, a little wider—like a dentist might. My real-life dentist was always too insistent, too certain of his ability to enter me. I bit his finger once (okay, maybe more than just once). I caught him off guard—or as off guard as you can when dealing with a man whose entire professional life is spent with his hands in the mouths of beasts. He must surely have seen it coming. Nevertheless, he referred me to another dentist.
I clamped down hard on my severed finger and ran my tongue over the satisfyingly deep dent left in the flesh by my molars. It had the texture of pig knuckles. Not that I recall that particular dish with much clarity. I’ve been a vegetarian for thirty years. No harm, no fowl—no fish or steak. Eating my own flesh doesn’t hurt anyone. It just makes me a cannibal-vegetarian which is more ethical than most people.
Take my sister for example: she loves her stupid fox terrier like a child but she still eats meat which makes her both cruel and a terrible hypocrite. Nevertheless, she still insists we get together for Christmas.
”What the hell is the difference between eating dogs and cows?” I asked her, on the phone. And when I said “dogs” I meant humans.
“Cow’s don’t have personalities,” was her reply, which is entirely not true.
“Would you prefer I cook you an animal you hated?” I asked.
”Yes,” she agreed, and I knew immediately that she regretted her offer of driving all the way to visit me in New Orleans for Christmas dinner.
“What animal do you hate the most?” I asked. “I’m serious.”
I already knew what she was thinking. I just wanted to hear her say it. She had never hated anyone more than her ex-husband or possibly me. Either way, the animal she hated most was most definitely human but she said, “Pigs, I guess,” and by “pigs” she meant me.
“Good. That settles it. I’ll cook pork with cherry glaze,” I lied.
Now, obviously, a few stray knuckles can’t possibly form the centerpiece of Christmas dinner and, anyway, me-knuckle-and-pea soup had already demonstrated itself as more suitable for an appetizer. Still, I kicked myself for eating my four fingers first because it made it extremely difficult to amputate my leg at the knee. The lower leg: now there is a versatile cut of meat. You can cut along the length of the calf muscle for a juicy loin or cut across the bones for chops if you have a bandsaw, which I didn’t, of course, on account of living in a residential area with strict zoning laws. But that doesn’t prevent you from smoking a loin or make excellent sausages. I had a devil of a time removing my lower leg and none of the perverts who responded to my advertisement in the Gazette had the prerequisite nursing skills to assist with the amputation. I administered the local anesthetic myself and it worked fine enough but the knee joint was tough and rather complicated to cut through and, in spite of my keen interest in anatomy, I was certainly no doctor. Still, I had committed to hosting Christmas lunch and I was determined to harvest a tasty loin. My sister and may have had our differences but, she is my sister after all and you have to make an effort.
When she arrived, she insisted on bringing with her a special friend named George. Poor George had tried to enliven his wallflower personality with a festive reindeer sweater. I liked him immediately and not just because he worked in Germany as a surgeon, no less. My sister gasped at the sight of my missing fingers and still fresh amputation below the knee. But I told her not to worry about me. I pretended that my old motorcycle accident had effected my circulatory system. I then garnished the white lie with a case of diabetes I never had. It was Christmas, after all. Everyone loves a tall tale. I followed that up with a loin of leg in a cherry glaze.
“I’m so glad you’re no longer a vegetarian,” she said, while attempting not to pity me. “You need to keep your strength up in your condition.”
“I’m still vegetarian,” I said, as I poured extra cherry glaze on her plate. “Just don’t tell anyone.”
My sister thought the pork/I was a little tough and didn’t mind saying so, but George wanted the recipe before he returned to Cologne. He had never read the Gazette but, when he followed me to the library in search of a recipe book, he insisted on examining my wound in a way that suggested that he might have answered the advertisement himself, had he been a subscriber. He could tell right away there was no hospital involved in the amputation and he said that his grandfather had reared pigs for Schinken ham in the most beautiful little corner of the Black Forest so he knew a thing or two about pork. He wheeled me back to the dining table and helped himself to a third helping of “pork” before we opened presents. My sister said it was a pleasant lunch and George even did the washing up on account of my missing fingers.
They both left in good spirits.
When I say “left” I mean George returned the very next day for leftovers. He brought his suitcase and medical kit and examined my limbs with the upmost professionalism.
“I think it might need to come off,” I suggested, as he scrutinized my legs and arms. He agreed every time.
“Yes it will. And that too. It will all need to be removed, eventually,” he said. I made sure to leave a copy of the Gazette on the counter so there could be no confusion on the subject.
Judging by how frequently my sister called his cell phone, I think she was in love with poor George. She rang at the most inappropriate hour because she thought he was back in Cologne which he wasn’t. He was usually asleep on the sofa with a belly full of flesh on account of us having turned the second bedroom into an operating room. Eventually George said it would be suspicious if he didn’t answer so we played Kraftwerk and Marlene Dietrich in the background (though not at the same time) to make it sound like he might have been in Cologne. I thought we did a good job of keeping up our little charade, but I only had those two albums and, anyway, I still think it was my sister who eventually called the police.
After we harvested another “ham’ it was clear that both George’s surgical and culinary skills were far superior to mine. His grandparents must have been true artisans when it came to pork. Throughout the spring, I watched my biceps grow meaty from maneuvering the new wheel chair. I suspect George’s grandfather must have shared the same excitement at watching his sows grow plump and delicious as the slaughter season approached. From the comfort of my Creole townhouse in The Marigny, my body had become my very own Black Forest. We lived in a land of plenty. George, being German and in possession of a rapier wit, named my right arm Hansel and my left Gretel which, of course, made me the wicked witch.
You might think me worse than wicked—a barbarian perhaps—but I caused no more harm to the world beyond my walls than the old lady who swallowed a fly.
George wouldn’t harm a fly either, which is exactly what I told the police when they visited. They saw my diminished state and expressed concern about his capacity to care for me. I pointed out that he was a qualified doctor, a surgeon no less, but it was clear they thought he had nefarious intent. The larger of the policemen sat in my most comfortable chair, a recliner, and explained that George had, allegedly, cared for four other men in Cologne who had all undergone unnecessary amputations before their demise. I thanked the officers for their concern and promised to report any unusual behavior but I was shaking inside. My stomach felt hollow and I was in a constant sweat. I had been betrayed: the fact that George had already consumed someone else before our meeting was certainly news to me.
When he returned with the groceries (vegetables and herbs mainly, for we had all the meat we needed) I beat him with my stumps until the sutures ruptured. I cried and told him I would go no further. He apologized and soothed me by showing me what ordinary people who have never spanked their Frankfurt in public refer to as food-porn. It was this he wanted me to become. He assured me that I was the sweetest of all the men he had had the pleasure of eating. This was, I suspect, a direct result of my cannibal-vegetarian diet. You are what you eat, after all. People eat bad things, generally speaking, and I’m not just referring to junk food. Some make a whole performance of eating cars and trucks and bicycles and all manner of things that simply can’t be eaten for that stupid Guinness book of records. People eat rocks, drywall, cars, soiled diapers, live bees, batteries and light bulbs and bedsprings just because they feel like it. I guess humans are like worms through which the entire world must pass. Me? I am a loop in time: leftovers consuming leftovers.
And in the end, who needs to leave behind something so ungainly as a body?
You would be surprised at how many parts of your body you can do without too. I’m a stickler for research—ask anyone. George said that in WWII surgeons performed the first half-ectomy on fighter pilots crushed beneath their instrumentation. Surgeons sliced them in half like a magic act—tadaa! The patients survived and would have survived longer had they not been inclined to bouts of depression and taken their own lives. I guess they couldn’t see the magic in it. But I could.
I must say, if ever there is such a thing as magic in the world then it comes in the form of phantom limb syndrome. After George performed my half-ectomy, I had no hips from which to leap, no shoulder joints from which to hurl a ball and yet I have never felt more active. My phantom limbs ran for miles along Elysen Fields Avenue and north, through the Rocky Mountains, all the way to Alaska. My arms swam down the Mississippi and out to sea and through the hurricanes and didn’t stop until they reached South America and the upper reaches of the Brazilian Rainforest. My phantom limbs were proficient in all manner of sports I never asked them to engage in. But when I looked down there was just air where the pumping limbs might have been. What was the point in all that exercise if my eyes called my body a liar? I had no choice but to ask George to remove them. When I say “them” I mean my eyes. We ate one each, lightly seared in a pan with onions and lemon. The imagination is far more active without sight. My hearing became more acute, my olfactory senses keener. I highly recommend it.
I could tell the police had returned by the weary way they walked, weighed down by radios and guns and the foolishness of their investigation. Unfortunately, this time George was home. I tried to explain away my diminished size and pointed out that my eyes had turned septic (and by “septic” I mean delicious) but they took George away for questioning anyway. He was away a long time.
I am not the nervous sort, but I did indeed start to panic. I called George’s name but the only reply was the gulls keening outside my window. I fell asleep and woke up and was not sure how many hours had passed but there were no more gulls so it was surely night. My ileostomy bag had over-flowed and my flesh was contaminated with the foulest smell. What if George didn’t return? Who would be my dinner companion? I couldn’t eat all this food by myself. When eventually the front door creaked opened and George called my name, his voice was shaking. The police had held him for two days and nights under the pretense of asking questions. As he carried me to the bathroom to clean me up, he was not moving well. He laid me in the tub and I could smell the nervous sweat that had dried on his shirt. He favored his left arm and there was a catch in his breath that told me his ribs were badly bruised.
“Did they beat you?” I asked.
“Sticks and stones,” he said, but I knew he envied me. You can’t beat a man who isn’t there.
He wiped away the crusted seepage that had spilled from my ileostomy bag and floated me in the fresh water. Had George not been a cannibal he could have found a job drawing baths in the nicest hotel in New Orleans. It’s not as easy as turning the water on, you know. You need to get the humidity of the room just right and the temperature of the water within a precise range. When you do, your body feels weightless and your breath invisible. I heard George open a glass bottle and listened as a few drops of lavender bath oil perfumed the room. It was sublime but there was certainly nothing sexual about the moment. How could there be? My sex had been removed in the half-ectomy along with everything below the navel. Yes, it’s true that George and I had both eaten my penis and testicles but it was far from a meal with erotic overtones. In fact, George had made Zürcher Geschnetzeltes which is a Swiss German dish usually made with veal. Cooked to perfection, he served it with a mushroom and white-wine sauce so aromatic that it made me wish I had testicles growing all over my body like mushrooms from which to harvest. When George eventually lifted me from my bath, he gently laid me on a towel and rubbed lotion into my scar tissue.
“How much is left?” I asked.
The scales scraped on the tile floor and George folded a towel in quarters for padding. Even after we ate my eyes, George always balanced me upright on my spine so, in my mind’s eye, I could look down and see my weight.
“Fourty-eight pounds,” he said. “I could check you as luggage.”
He cleaned my teeth with a new brand of toothpaste that tasted like red Tic-Tacs and took me to bed. He no longer slept on the sofa. At two-foot tall, I was smaller than the overpriced teddy bear I used to sleep with as a kid. I could tell he was tired on account of being interrogated by the police without sleep for two days but he wanted to talk about something. Finally he said: “What should I make for my first meal alone?”
I had not kept track of our meals but, from the way we had feasted and the sound of the single bag of flesh clanking around in the chest-freezer, I knew our supply was getting low. Without ever having to leave New Orleans, we had taken a culinary tour of all of Bavaria and the Rhineland. We had eaten bratwurst and liverwurst with senf; königsberger klopse meatballs; sauerbraten pot roast; schweinshaxe and speck; and baked the leftovers into a leberkäse-style meatloaf. The neighbors must have thought we were opening a restaurant. Ultimately, though, there was one meal I couldn’t share with George: the meal that would finish me . He could eat my beef-heart stew or spread my brains on toast with parsley and lemon but it was Christmas again. The festive season.
“I don’t want you to eat alone,” I told George. “Take my sister to midnight mass then treat her to a good old-fashioned Réveillon feast.”
It’s a Creole tradition in these parts, to feast until dawn. I wanted to swim in a bouillabaisse with the freshest sea scallops or be pureed with leeks and truffle cream. I imagined the searing heat of applewood smoked bacon against my lightly grilled cheek. I wanted George to swallow the last of me and know me more completely than I ever could.
He called my sister and extended the invite. She seemed distant and nervous which I thought was on account of her still being in love with George, herself. In hindsight there was clearly someone listening.
On Christmas day the house was filled with the aroma of sauce and spice and I was confident that this would be a feast like no other. Then my ears picked out the familiar lumbering step on my porch and I knew something was wrong. The door burst off its hinges and somewhere among the men’s voices I could hear my hysterical sister. She was weeping and swearing and it was clear she was not going to stay for dinner. The police handcuffed George and he cried out in pain.
“Don’t hurt him!” I yelled, but no one cared to listen.
A pair of hands transported me to a dog carrier which smelled of piss from frightened animals. The very idea that I might try to escape was completely absurd. I screamed and shouted and called them all manner of names that I am embarrassed to repeat. Someone turned off the stove and took the chest-freezer into evidence. Our Christmas was ruined.
No one listened to me at George’s trial. All they wanted to know was whether I was of sound mind. It was clear to everyone that I was. I even had my lawyer show them the letter I wrote last Christmas when I had hands and was not yet the distillation of my former self. But they didn’t care. They found him guilty and put George on death row where he will never eat anything as delicious as me again.
I hope beyond hope that when he is served his last meal, that they come for me in my hospital bed and cut out my tongue and give half to him and half to me. No sauce, no salt, no pepper or spice. Just raw and bloody. A final kiss under the cannibal’s mistletoe.
submitted by IamHammerhead to nosleep [link] [comments]

2023.03.22 15:42 TeaAndCozy 9 more Nui Cobalt Bees & Favorite Things

I'm back with thoughts on my new Nui Cobalt Bees! I previously posted thoughts on the 19 Bees and Favorite Things I'd tried HERE - I have a bunch of favorite Bees, including Queen Bee and Bees Love Blue for florals, The Bees' High Tea, Honeymoon Suite, Wasp, and Busy Bee, all especially wonderful for particular seasons of the year, Bee Kind To Yourself (concept by our very own u/propheticperfumes here at IMAM! Truly not to be missed), and Emotional Support Bee and She Stopped to Pet a Bumblebee for gentle, delicate, my-skin-but-better scents. Today I'm sharing my thoughts on 9 more, all of them new releases this year. Despite being sick for the last two weeks and counting (ugh), after the first week of illness I was happily able to get back to enjoying perfume. Thus this review post comes a little later than my usual, but I'm delighted to still get it out in time for the next release (April Fools this Friday!) in case you might want to add any of these to your next order.
Ordering specs: Nui Cobalt's website is easy to navigate, shipping is very affordable (please note that since the slight price increase this year, base shipping has gone up from $2.99 to $3.45, just fyi), items come very securely packed, and customer service is always spectacular. I don't think I've ever placed an order that took more than 2-3 business days to ship (and recently it has usually been literally the very next day). Samples are generous - 1.15 mls at least - in vials with wand caps. Each order comes with one free sample, chosen by them (there’s no box to insert requests).
Nui Cobalt's typical annual schedule of releases: (I [and especially Nui Cobalt] make no promises, of course, that these collections will recur; this is just in my experience)
My preferences: I especially love snuggly scents, incense, golden amber, cardamom, black tea, beeswax, non-gourmand vanillas, and white florals (though sadly I am allergic to lilies and in my admittedly limited experience, jasmine doesn’t work on me). I don't like hay, overly sweet gourmands, excessive musk, dragon’s blood, leather, patchouli, labdanum, or any really dark scents in general. To my great devastation, Nui Cobalt’s apricot and pear notes don’t tend to work on me, though I haven’t given up hope and I continue to try new blends with those notes occasionally.
These perfumes were provided as press samples by Nui Cobalt in exchange for an honest review.

New Bees

It's Hive Code [Spring harvest honey, a faithful accord of rare Ghost Orchid, neroli and bergamot hand lotion, and a dark base of melted fudge] - I got this sample because most of these notes sounded absolutely heavenly. Honey, orchid, neroli, and bergamot? Count me in - that sounds amazingly light and springy. I kept my fingers crossed that the fudge would be minimal. In the vial, it's a base of honey and chocolate fudge, with the light citrus and floral above, and on my skin, it continues to be a fight between the gorgeous, breezy springtime floral and the heavier, waxy (almost tootsie roll-ish) chocolate. And it's so strange, because up close, the chocolate is so much less obvious that it really almost is the scent I wanted it to be. Personally, I just really wish it didn't have the fudge - I think all of the other notes are just perfect! All in all, It's Hive Code is much more atmospheric than springtime. Like the the several NCD blends that pair caramel with wildly different notes (Mad Scientist, Glass Pumpkin, Venus Verticordia), this one is a thoroughly unexpected combination. My approach to it is also slightly hampered by the fact that I haven't seen the Netflix show (Wednesday) that it's an homage to.
The Bees' Carnival [Cotton candy spun from crystallized honey, fresh leaves of lemon verbena, blue raspberry drizzle, and a grounding smolder of sweet myrrh] - This one is COTTON CANDY and a lot of honey, with only mere hints of the lemon and blue raspberry. (If you love the cotton candy of Nephophilia [A fluffy melange of pink cotton candy, ivory cashmere, silk tree blossoms, blush suede, and steamed vanilla] but wanted it to have even more cotton candy, The Bees' Carnival is for you!) I was expecting more blue raspberry, but happily I do have Blue Moon [A diaphanous lunar musk entwines living honeysuckle and sugared blue raspberry] and Dewdrops on Spidersilk [Cerulean strands of cotton flower bejeweled with dewdrops, cold crystalline musk, tiny black vanilla beans, frozen blue raspberry, and gentle incense] to scratch that itch. The herbal quality of the lemon verbena and the slight earthiness of the myrrh come out in the drydown, keeping the really golden nature of this honey from becoming too cloying.
Honey, I'm Home [Snowdrops and fresh nectar from their first petals unfurled, golden sunlight, yellow crocus, and warmed honeycomb] - This one is GORGEOUS - the light-golden warmth of an early spring day. After an initial burst of warm but airy honey, the honey blends in with the flowers, which really are yellow in their scent color. There's nothing grassy about these florals but they remind me of chamomile nonetheless - chamomile and daisies perhaps, they're just so cheerful and happy. This is the springtime sibling to Yellow Leaves [Blooming moringa, olivewood, coriander, oakmoss, tangerine, and helichrysum], the most perfect autumnal floral. After its initial burst of honey, this scent dries down to cling quite closely to my skin, a private little bubble of buoyancy and optimism.
Wretched Hive of Scum & Villainy [Portrait of an extraterrestrial desert and its elusive denizens: dry white sandalwood, Tunisian tea, cracked coriander, cassia bark, amber resin, raw cotton, and combs full of precious honey that few will ever taste] - Friends, Nui Cobalt has done it again: another spectacular black tea scent! This one is black tea spiced with coriander and cinnamon, gently sweetened with honey, and with some very subtle nuances of cotton flower and sandalwood (making it a much more rainy-day-cozy scent than the perfume's name might suggest). This tea note is more incensey than Blarney: Irish Breakfast Tea [The warm, tannic comfort of a proper Cuppa sweetened with a touch of raw honey and smoothed with fresh cream], more like the black tea in Unbought & Unbossed: A Tribute to Shirley Chisholm [The fragrance inspired by her is a strong and sophisticated spiced tea with raw honey and Barbados sugar sipped among the sunlit roses of the Brooklyn Botanical Garden] and Cloak of Evergreens [Snow-covered spruce, iced cedar tips, golden pine sap, icicle musk, and the fading memory of tea by the fireside].
The Beekeeper's Funeral [This comforting blend opens with gentle Bulgarian lavender and petrichor, then blooms with Casablanca lily, honeysuckle, and wet grass, and settles at last into a pillow of fluffy whipped honey] - A very pretty, understated floral-aquatic. I get white florals (but not too bold), an herbal lavender, grass, and rain - this petrichor is more the smell of the watery rain itself rather than wet pavement. Oddly enough for this being a Bee, I actually don't get any honey, though there is a little bit of sweetness that reminds me of the white amber in Mirror [Pale amber and white tea are accented by dry coconut, angelica, and cooling rain], in part because of the shared rain note.
Bee You Tiful [Honey-roasted pistachio and chestnut, pink magnolia, and sweet apple blossom] - When it first arrived, sniffed in the vial, this one smelled entirely of honeyed-salty-toasty nuts. On my first wear (though I was getting sick at the time so I didn't count it as a proper "first-test"), the florals were there, but almost entirely obscured. So this one is definitely one that benefited from a proper rest, because when I wore it again, wow! I'm really not sure that I want to smell like nuts (although I remain utterly fascinated by the idea of Black Baccara's Shamrock Potion [Pistachio mousse, fresh whipped cream, slivered almonds, and a drizzle of french vanilla syrup] and hope someday to buy a really small decant), but this perfume is awfully convincing. I still get toasty, honeyed nuts, but they are beautifully balanced with the florals, particularly the apple blossom. Nui Cobalt has a gorgeous apple blossom note! I have previously said that Pixie [An apple orchard in bloom, spring grasses alive with an unearthly glow, vanilla bean offertory cakes, and sparkling honey mead] is an early autumn perfume for me, and Venus Amica [Sun-warmed wildflowers, olivewood, apple blossom, light amber, moringa leaf, and sacred benzoin] is an early spring perfume; well, I think Bee You Tiful is going to be a "transition from spring to summer" scent for me. The honey, pistachio, and faint apple combine to be reminiscent of some sort of delightful pastry - is a pistachio-apple galette a thing? And yet this isn't a realistic gourmand, especially with the wafting florals making it much more atmospheric. The overall impression is of a garden party. Many hours later, the top-note florals are gone, but the gentle nuts remain.

New Favorite Things

All Dolled Up [Spiced apricot preserves, almond blossom, pink peony, Hawaiian and Australian sandalwoods, balsam of Peru, and sunlit amber] - Despite the notes list starting off with apricot and almond, All Dolled Up does NOT read like a Squirrel (which all start with the same base: "A playful blend of almond and spiced apricot, grounded in rich benzoin and copaiba balsam"). Instead, it reminds me strongly of Rose Gold Sky [Fuzzy apricot, amber resin, styrax, pink sandalwood, clove bud, melissa, and blush rose], but lighter and more warm-weather. When I tried this, I didn't have the notes list in front of me (and I didn't remember it), so my impression that this scent is pink amber + apricot + clove (see the connection to Rose Gold Sky?) was completely independent of the actual official notes. Then seeing the notes list a little later in the day, I could also easily make out the peony (a very "pink" floral), which is a big part of why this reads as more summery than Rose Gold Sky.
Candlelight [Molten vanilla caramel, Egyptian musk, mahogany, honey amber, black tea, cathedral incense, a pinch of galangal, and a glimmer of white grapefruit] - Caramel and honey, thick and rich and luscious, backed by golden amber, a touch of grapefruit to cut the molten sweetness, and a whole lot of very expensive-smelling Egyptian musk. There are some indistinct spices too, which is perhaps how my nose is reading the black tea and incense. (This is a bummer, because I LOVE Nui Cobalt's black tea + incense combo, but this scent doesn't really feature them.) It's a heavy, luxurious scent, a sister to Ailurophilia (Love of Cats) [Egyptian musk, tonka, and dulce de leche wrapped in luxuriant cashmere, soft suede, wisps of sandalwood and copal smoke]. Its dark, honeyed quality is also reminiscent of Arcana Snug [The scent of staying in to watch the snow fall: dark honey amber, marshmallow, and the glow of beeswax candles], but with caramel instead of beeswax. All this being said about its complexity and rich layers, my colleague walked into the church choir room this morning and from across the room from me said "It smells like pancakes!", to which I sheepishly admitted that it was probably me. (It was.) So, this one has tremendous throw, much stronger than most Nui Cobalts, and to an untrained nose, apparently smells extremely (and solely) like maple syrup! (To me, though, it's not nearly as similar to the mapley Little Brown Rabbit as it is to the caramel of Ailurophilia.)
Fairy Garden [Cool dewdrops cupped in clover leaves, early purple orchid, a porcelain thimble of green tea with oat milk, and frosted almond cakes served in an acorn cap] - It goes on more gourmand than I was expecting, primarily oat milk, green tea, and sugary frosting. Behind these are a bit of acorn earthiness (I recognize a similar acorn note to Deep Midnight Wildwood [Pumpkin Bread, Incense, Acorns, Dried Apple and Orange Peels, Fading Bonfire], the only other place I've experienced an acorn accord) and a touch of floral. At first (and to my surprise, based on the order of the notes list), I don't get any aquatic dewdrop nor any grassy clover but as the scent dries, these start to emerge as the sweetness of the frosting recedes. Eventually, all these notes combine to create a very balanced and detailed scent portrait not just of a fairy garden, but of the fairies holding a fancy tea party among the flowers. I'm curious, for anyone who has tried both: how similar is Fairy Garden to Poesie Green Girl [Pistachio, wildflower honey, oatmilk matcha latte, heliotrope blossoms, marshmallow musk]? Fairy Garden has a Poesie-style whimsicality which I'm really loving.


The stunners from the new releases, for me, are Honey, I'm Home and Wretched Hive of Scum & Villainy.
Or if you want to imagine yourself part of a fairy tea party, go for Bee You Tiful and Fairy Garden.
And The Beekeeper's Funeral and All Dolled Up are just lovely warm-weather scents.

Where these landed in my collection:

I would love to hear your thoughts on these - which ones did you love most? - or if I've inspired you to add any to your wishlist!
submitted by TeaAndCozy to Indiemakeupandmore [link] [comments]

2023.03.22 12:49 Smooth_Background_36 “Donna Armaf Perfume” for Women

“Donna Armaf Perfume” for Women
Product Description:-
One of India's newest surviving perfumery, Donna Armaf Perfume, dating back to 2022, is put down in the heart of Old Delhi's Chandni Chowk and still full of rare treasured aromas and scents. India has always been a settler in the art of making scents from natural substances.
Vanilla is a warm, sweet and racy note with all constituents that invite temptation. Donna scents conspiracy as important as they fascinate with their nearly unique aroma newness. fascinating white flowers similar as Rajnigandha or ylang-ylang embody the temptress, while gormandizer notes make you wet with slaver. It’s a Pure incense. It’s a romantic Perfume Armaf. This is a fresh and womanlike style inspired by Roman road style and edgy haute couture.

Some experts indeed say that Jasmine is the most erotogenic of all natural scents. This is because jasmine contains the conflation indole. full- bosomed scents include pumpkin, lavender, vanilla, cinnamon, peppermint, and gusto. irregardless some dubiousness around the use of erotogenic, studies show that numerous of these unique aromas do work; they can be fluently unified into anyone's scent exercises. It is constantly cited as some of the most sociable smells and have been shown to increase energy and decrease stress.
This is excellent news for incense suckers, as citrus scents are constantly used in the top notes of your favourite spices. We specialise in furnishing a selection of world- class inventor spices at swish prices. From celebrated classics to the bottommost inventor scents, we have a wide range of scents to suit all tastes. Our online store offers accessible access to the world’s best- dealing spices, along with exclusive deals and abatements.


We've an expansive collection of gift sets, like gift cards which make perfect presents for any special occasion. Our platoon of experts is always ready to offer you professional advice and guidance in opting the perfect scent for your loved one. With fast shipping and an unstoppable selection, this Online Perfume Outlet is the perfect place for you to find your asked hand scent. Perfume companies strive to produce their products in an environmentally responsible manner, using sustainable raw accoutrements, energy-effective product processes, and eco-friendly packaging.


submitted by Smooth_Background_36 to u/Smooth_Background_36 [link] [comments]

2023.03.22 11:12 Plenty-Key2876 Experience Luxury for Less with the Top 5 Best Fragrance Oil Collections oil perfumery perfume oil price in USA

Fragrance oils are a great way to enjoy the scent of your favorite perfumes without breaking the bank. They offer a cost-effective alternative to high-end perfumes, while still providing long-lasting and high-quality fragrances. GenericPerfumes offers a range of fragrance oil collections that will allow you to experience luxury for less.

In this article, we will discuss the top 5 best fragrance oil collections from GenericPerfumes.

  1. Private Collection The Private Collection by GenericPerfumes features a variety of premium fragrance oils that are inspired by high-end designer brands. These oils are long-lasting and perfect for special occasions. The collection includes a range of scents from floral to oriental.
  2. Arabian Collection The Arabian Collection by GenericPerfumes features a range of rich and exotic fragrance oils. These oils are perfect for those who want to make a statement and stand out in a crowd. The fragrances are warm and spicy, making them perfect for cooler weather.
  3. Sweet Collection The Sweet Collection by GenericPerfumes features a variety of fragrance oils that are sweet and fruity. These oils are perfect for everyday wear and will leave you smelling fresh and sweet all day long. The collection includes a range of scents from strawberry to vanilla.
  4. Men's Collection GenericPerfumes' Men's Collection features a variety of fragrance oils that are designed for men. These oils are masculine and bold, making them perfect for those who want to leave a lasting impression. The fragrances are long-lasting and perfect for all occasions.
  5. Classic Collection The Classic Collection by GenericPerfumes features a range of fragrance oils that are timeless and elegant. These oils are perfect for those who want to feel sophisticated and refined. The collection includes a range of scents from musk to rose.
In conclusion, GenericPerfumes offers a variety of fragrance oil collections that will allow you to experience luxury for less. From sweet and fruity scents to bold and masculine fragrances, there's something for everyone. Give them a try and discover your new favorite scent. With these high-quality fragrance oils at affordable prices, you can experience luxury without breaking the bank.
submitted by Plenty-Key2876 to u/Plenty-Key2876 [link] [comments]

2023.03.22 11:10 AssistNo5122 Elevate Your Scent Game with the Top 5 Best Perfume Collections fragrance oil perfume oils store in 2023

There's nothing quite like a beautiful scent to complete your look and leave a lasting impression. But, high-end perfumes can be quite expensive, making it difficult for many people to justify the cost. Luckily, GenericPerfumes has a variety of perfume collections that offer high-quality fragrances at affordable prices.

In this article, we will discuss the top 5 best perfume collections from GenericPerfumes that will elevate your scent game.

  1. Luxury Collection The Luxury Collection by GenericPerfumes features a variety of fragrances inspired by high-end designer brands. From floral to oriental scents, this collection offers something for everyone. The fragrances are long-lasting and perfect for special occasions.
  2. Oriental Collection The Oriental Collection by GenericPerfumes offers a range of rich and exotic fragrances. These perfumes are perfect for those who want to make a statement and stand out in a crowd. The fragrances are warm and spicy, making them perfect for cooler weather.
  3. Sweet Collection The Sweet Collection by GenericPerfumes features a variety of fragrances that are perfect for those who enjoy sweet and fruity scents. These fragrances are perfect for everyday wear and will leave you smelling fresh and sweet all day long.
  4. Men's Collection GenericPerfumes' Men's Collection features a variety of fragrances that are designed for men. These fragrances are masculine and bold, making them perfect for those who want to leave a lasting impression. The fragrances are long-lasting and perfect for all occasions.
  5. Classic Collection The Classic Collection by GenericPerfumes features a variety of fragrances that are timeless and elegant. These fragrances are perfect for those who want to feel sophisticated and refined. The fragrances are long-lasting and perfect for special occasions.
In conclusion, GenericPerfumes offers a variety of perfume collections that are designed to elevate your scent game. From sweet and fruity scents to bold and masculine fragrances, there's something for everyone. Give them a try and discover your new favorite scent. With these high-quality fragrances at affordable prices, you can elevate your scent game without breaking the bank.
submitted by AssistNo5122 to u/AssistNo5122 [link] [comments]

2023.03.22 11:04 Tasty_Ad7840 Discover the Top 5 Best Dupe Collections for Your Favorite Fragrances best perfumes oil collections

If you're a fragrance enthusiast, then you know how expensive it can be to purchase high-end perfumes from designer brands. Fortunately, GenericPerfumes is here to provide you with a cost-effective solution. They offer a variety of dupe collections that replicate the scent of your favorite designer fragrances at a fraction of the cost.

In this article, we will be discussing the top 5 best dupe collections that GenericPerfumes has to offer.

  1. Chanel No. 5 The Chanel No. 5 dupe collection by GenericPerfumes is one of the best on the market. This iconic fragrance is known for its floral and powdery scent that is both elegant and sophisticated. GenericPerfumes has successfully replicated this scent, providing a long-lasting fragrance that is perfect for any occasion.
  2. Tom Ford Black Orchid Tom Ford's Black Orchid fragrance is a popular choice for those who enjoy rich and intense scents. GenericPerfumes has created a dupe collection that is just as rich and intense as the original. This fragrance is perfect for those who want to make a bold statement.
  3. Marc Jacobs Daisy Marc Jacobs' Daisy is a floral fragrance that is perfect for those who enjoy a sweet and feminine scent. GenericPerfumes' dupe collection replicates the scent perfectly, providing a long-lasting fragrance that is perfect for everyday wear.
  4. Yves Saint Laurent Black Opium Yves Saint Laurent's Black Opium is a popular fragrance that is known for its warm and spicy scent. GenericPerfumes has created a dupe collection that replicates the scent perfectly, providing a fragrance that is perfect for those who want to make a statement.
  5. Creed Aventus Creed's Aventus fragrance is a popular choice for those who enjoy a fresh and fruity scent. GenericPerfumes has created a dupe collection that is just as fresh and fruity as the original. This fragrance is perfect for those who want to feel fresh and clean throughout the day.
In conclusion, GenericPerfumes offers a variety of dupe collections that replicate the scent of your favorite designer fragrances. The top 5 best dupe collections listed above are just a few examples of the many great options that are available. These fragrances are perfect for those who want to enjoy the scent of a high-end perfume without breaking the bank. Give them a try and discover your new signature scent!
submitted by Tasty_Ad7840 to u/Tasty_Ad7840 [link] [comments]

2023.03.22 06:24 Requesting_usernam3 Day 39 of posting recipes from the manga

Day 39 of posting recipes from the manga submitted by Requesting_usernam3 to ShokugekiNoSoma [link] [comments]

2023.03.22 03:12 kafetheresu Zoologist Atelier + Scent review

My partner and I recently visited the Zoologist atelieshowroom in Toronto. During our visit, we tried all the scents, including their unreleased scents. I hope you'll enjoy this review and find it useful for planning your trip!
Good to know:
  1. The atelier is by appointment only. You need to email them through their website to book an appointment. Each appointment is around 1.5hrs-2hrs long, so block out enough time for it.
  2. Zoologist is located on the OUTSKIRTS of Toronto. It's 45mins by car from downtown Toronto or 2hrs via public transit. Google maps has problems finding the location and will show results for Niche Essences (an outlet that carries various brands) as well. The correct address is the one near York University located in a strip mall.
  3. Bring water, and be prepared for a multi-sensory journey. You'll be smelling their entire catalogue of 20+ scents, and you want to give yourself room to enjoy it. If you're visiting Toronto, you might want to have this as a "main" activity since it does require a bit of planning/time/effort.
A little background: I've been collecting perfumes on and off since 1997. My family worked in beauty, so there would be free samples coming in *every day* when growing up. I fell off it for a while, then restarted an interest in 2013 with Le Labo's Santal33. I usually go for resins, ambers, incense, and wood; Serge Lutens makes up 70% of my collection. I have no prior experience with Zoologist.
Zoologist experience:
Despite the plain exterior, the shop is beautifully decorated. On entry, there is a large monstera plant with a showcase of perfume in the front and center. The left side hangs large portraits of each Zoologist animal profiles, and the right has shelves with different types of bottles, samples and boxes to purchase. Interspersed are stained glass tiffany lamps and other curios. There's a feeling that you've just stepped into an art gallery, and the curated items: the lamps, the plant, the animal portraits, sets the tone for the Zoologist brand.
Victor welcomes you to the space, and I remember thinking that he looks the part: on the day we met, he was wearing a dark blue suit with a yellow kerchief square. In absolute honesty: I did not know he was the founder and creative director of the brand. However I found him extremely kind and knowledgeable, and set upon us an olfactory journey guided by their lightest to heaviest scents.
Scent impressions
**technically we went through all the scents, but here's the ones that I remember. I wish I took down better notes**
Bat -- Fruit bat, not the vampire kind. Juicy opening loaded with tropical fruit, a hint of sharp greenness from vetiver. The earth-soil note is a bit funky and fertile, if you've dug around with garden mulch and compost you'll know it instantly.
Beaver -- Clean hamster or chinchilla. Woodshavings, dried food pellets, musky small animal. Rawhide leather, not the polished suede or upholstery you'll get from Tom Ford/more tame designer.
Bee -- hyperrealistic honey and beeswax. I thought it was rather sweet, almost cloying in the shop. Afterwards I went home and sprayed it on my bedsheets, and had a nightmare about being inside a bee colony. There's a dirt note in here which is smells exactly like the hot, warm interior of a hive.
Camel -- Nice, gentle incense. More of an incense stick than the smoky plumes of CdG Black or Dior Fahrenheit. A whiff of church, but not the full altar.
Chameleon -- Wonderful translucency and freshness. It wears like a creamy twist on a classic fougere to me with the ylang-ylang & cashmeran notes apparent, very wearable unisex fragrance
Cow -- Amish homestead farm in Philly/Vermont. Rolling grass hillsides, pastoral. Milk note comes in later, unpasteurized and full cream, but not sweet. Quite interesting layered with Chipmunk, like a milk-cookie combo
Civet -- Reads like a belle-epoque style perfume, glamorous and heady. Perfect for sitting in questionable bars swapping dead drops in a Cold War espionage movie.
Dodo (original) -- Blackberry canes in summer, absolutely delicious that falls away to a polarizing cumin. The cumin is so strong I could smell it from outside the door.
Dragonfly -- You know in The Perfect Scent about with the avid descriptions of waterlilies, lotuses, slow-moving river in Egypt? How the entire team went down for a research brief, and the beauty of the river, the reeds, the sparkling shimmer of sun-on-water? I remember reading the book and being utterly disappointed with the actual perfume, this is what Les Jardins sur le Nil should smell like. This is the one I would buy for my friends as presents, along with the book, as a gift set.
Hummingbird -- feels like 24 Faubourg, but without the effervescence of the former. A rich nectar floral.
Hydrax -- Not for me but my partner really loved it; absolute barnyard.
Macaque (yuzu) -- Victor mentioned that he wears this one
Nightingale -- Extremely realistic plum blossom orchard. The tartness keeps it fresh and not too cloying. I think it loses a little of the tartness in the drydown, which is a warm and smooth sandalwood/labaduam. A very wearable scent that feels happy.
Scared Scarab -- Victor said it's inspired by the blue lotus flower, which is a type of incense used by ancient Egyptians. Definitely smells like it, a simmeringly hot sandy desert with an almost mineral-incense tone. Quite lovely and evocative, I prefer it to Camel.
Seahorse -- Warm sunny chillhop lofi beach. To me, it sounds like the new Gorillaz album track Tormenta ft. Bad Bunny.
Snowy Owl -- I liked this scent, but my partner loves it. It definitely smells arctic and icy, with hay and grass below. The mint note is lovely and addictive. I didn't care for the coconut since it reads 'tropical' to me but I appreciate how it adds a soft creamyness, like being enveloped in a cozy wintry nest.
Squid -- I love this. I told Victor it smells like HK and he was very confused. When I got home I realized why, the creamy toffee sweet opening and inky deep water smells is EXACTLY like drinking a super-sweetened milk tea while walking along the Avenue of Stars/Harbourfront at night. The ocean saltiness, the dried seafood and diesel boats while sipping your ultra-sweet condensed milk red tea at night. Absolutely gorgeous.
T-Rex -- lf you've ever melted plastic in a microwave or set your CPU on fire, smells like this. I like it cos its a very nostalgic scent, like burning your own CD-Rs
unreleased (R) -- Spicy gourmand, my partner adores it. It's sweet without being sticky, she guessed immortelle but actually it's a different heart note, however it does have that sunshine-y goldenness. I thought it smells like caramel pie crust.
unreleased (P) -- Sartorial fragrance that is extremely polished. If you like PdM or classic Penhaligon's style, you'll like this; the different notes played on the same violin, or different cloth cut into a classic 3-piece. I love this one and would buy it in a heartbeat.
unreleased (O.M) -- Cool botanical floral, the backroom of a florist shop in winter with the airflown tropical/hothoused flowers sitting in water.
submitted by kafetheresu to fragrance [link] [comments]

2023.03.22 02:11 ShroomieDoomieDoo I need a scent that will make my boyfriend blush

We've been together for a few years now and are in love in a way I never thought possible. I'm not particularly worried about things getting stale or boring, but I always like to change it up a bit to keep things fresh. We're coming up on our anniversary soon and I would like to find a new scent to intrigue him with.
I already have a daytime/work perfume that works well for me (Daisy Dream by Marc Jacobs), so I'm looking specifically for date nights. I want something that'll turn heads, and make him blush when he kisses me. I'm thinking warm, spicy, seductive, and maybe incense-y but I'm open to suggestions. A feminine version of Sex Panther by Odeon, if you will.
I've heard some good things about La Belle Price by Jean Paul Gaultier, but it's expensive so I wanted to get some input first lol. Thanks in advance for your help!
submitted by ShroomieDoomieDoo to Perfumes [link] [comments]

2023.03.22 00:22 Mother_Orchid_1109 [Us to Us] [sell] [perfume] Death & Floral, Alpha Musk, Stereoplasm, Hex, Arcana craves, S92, etc.

Hiii. It’s me, back again, hoping you’ll buy my sad, lil unloved perfumes. ;p
Lowered prices, and added new Death & Floral, Stereoplasm, Sugar & Spite, Alpha Musk, & S92 :)
It may take me up to a week to ship, shipping is $5, and I often reuse packaging. (let me know if that’s a problem.) from a pet friendly, smoke free home; perfumes stored in a dark, wooden chest.
listed are full size perfumes, ranging from about 3-5ml (AM saltwater taffy due to me decanting from it) and one 8ML. Plus samples. Feel free to ask for photos for fill lines.
Onto The Goods/Perfumes!
Alpha Musk
Saltwater Taffy single note - Can’t find notes; maybe single note? smells of a mildly sweet strawberry taffy, with a hint of salt ~65% $7 RIS Oil
Wake Up Alone - Amy Winehouse inspired perfume: Inky liner, vodka on rocks, vavoom hair spray, body musk, oversized cashmere. 90% $15 or Swap RIS Oil
Arcana Craves
Pumpkin Milkshake LN (label has some discoloration.) 60-65% $8 RIS oil (Also open to swapping for partials of Arcana’s: whipped cream, cardamom, glittering white, VC Aphrodite, Holy Terror, Haint, Tart, Trust, Frigg, Nott, and Sjöfn, etc.)
Butter Toki (perfume house closed)
Let ‘em eat cake! - Tokyo Milk Dupe. notes on sugar, milk, buttermilk, vanilla orchid, white musk. ~90-95% fill $12 RIS Oil
Death and Floral
The end is here - Vanilla Coke, bourbon, fleeing animals, the musk of an infinite black void. SOLD
Biscuits and Tea Bundle $15
Stereoplasm Soft Cat (4.5 ml - label little scuffed) Sunday morning biscuits, sticky marshmallow fluff, warm vanilla toe beans and soft mews under piles of sun-dried cashmere. 95% RIS Oil + Sugar & Spite: 3.7 ML dram in Arsenic (purchased second hand, label stained) - bitter almond, sweetened Darjeeling tea, amber resin, oud. Just below top of label RIS Oil
Sixteen92 Dirt & Decay / Sweet & Spooky / Liminal Spaces & Bittersweet Nostalgia Bundle $14
random Solstice Scents sample bundle 3/$6, (tell me your likes and dislikes) and a multiple indie house perfume random sample bundle 5/$5 - brands may include: Arcana Craves, Alphamusk, Stereoplasm, Arcana Wildcraft, Nocturne Alchemy, Nui cobalt, etc. (good, and more affordable way to try new houses/scents.) I will also throw in 1-3 sample freebies, depending on how big your order is.
looking for a sample, or decant of Hex Le Chat Noir, Moon, Amber d’or, Baltic amber, and black vanilla.
submitted by Mother_Orchid_1109 to IndieExchange [link] [comments]

2023.03.21 23:44 RainbowArmadilloTime What did tbell serve me in my box? There's no soft chicken taco on the menu... Is it normal for boxes to substitute items without telling you?

I got the grilled cheese burrito deluxe box, quickly opened it, did notice they gave me cinnamon twists instead of chips with cheese, but whatever, drove home cause I was hungry and haven't eaten all day.
Then I realized, they also substituted my dorito taco for some soft chicken taco. Weird, but whatever. I was hungry so I ate it.
I did notice that it was not nearly as warm as the other food. Also, it had red cabbage too, which I've never seen on tbell food before.
I can only assume, maybe they wanted to clear older food off of holding instead of making me a fresh dorito taco?
Or, is it possible that they are even testing me, purposefully giving the wrong stuff to see if I'm a secret shopper? I've had a sneaking suspicion that people working at this location must think I am one in the past too.
I guess the main reason I'm weirded out is, there's not even any item that remotely resembles it on the menu. It had the chicken, not cubed but like more messy pieces (maybe used in the quesadillas?) cheese, sour cream, lettuce, tomato, and the ominous red cabbage.
Bro 😅 what the f did I eat lmao.
submitted by RainbowArmadilloTime to tacobell [link] [comments]