#IIST

[masterclassofcl]

+2க்கு பிறகு கோடிகளில் சம்பளத்தை அள்ளித்தரும் இந்தியாவின் தலைசிறந்த IIT / NIT க்கு இணையான Govt & Govt Aided institutions க்கு வழிகாட்டுதல்

💠உங்கள் பிள்ளைகளின் தனித்திறனைக் கண்டுபிடித்து அந்த துறையில் Master ஆக்க வேண்டுமா?

💠21 வயதில் ஆரம்ப சம்பளம் 30 இலட்சம் முதல் 2 கோடி வரை அள்ளிதரும் துறைகள் பற்றி தெரிய வேண்டுமா?

💠 IIT / NIT க்கு இணையான இந்தியாவின் தலைசிறந்த Government & Govt. Aided Premium Institutions மற்றும் Unique Courses பற்றி தெரிய வேண்டுமா?

உங்கள் இலட்சியத்திற்கும், +2 மதிப்பெண்ணிற்கும் சம்பந்தமே கிடையாது?

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நிகழ்வு விவரங்கள்: தேதி: 21.04.2024 இடம்: Kalavasal, Madurai

இலவச பதிவு செய்ய: www.themasterclass.co.in/register

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[ithisatanytime]

(iist)

[muzzlemouths]

what remains after ruination

Eclipse adjacent // Wordcount: 2,045

A year had passed by. Not a day later and no sooner than that since you stepped foot in this dreaded building.

Only in part due to your own resolution. It’d been all over the news; Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria, Gone Up in Flames! A week’s worth of synonyms for accident-destruction-fire-disaster-ruin dribbling out from between reporter’s teeth like crumbs from their stale blueberry muffin breakfast, the story already old news by the time their shirt collar caffeine stains between coffee breaks were well and dry.

After all, there was nothing of value to mourn. “It’s nothing short of a miracle that no one was harmed,” they fed the public scripted lines, little white lies on big tv screens, “a shame the ‘bots are a bust,” another chimed in, “but we’re grateful to have avoided a real tragedy.”

And where were you when the fire broke out? Safely at home, on your couch, shoveling the powdery remnants of dry breakfast cereal into your face, phone in hand, uniform on, and an alarm set to leave in ten minutes. Your favorite generic sitcom played at half-volume across the room having just returned from a commercial break when the news struck, every station within a hundred mile radius offering their briefest condolences to the franchise’s demise. As always, you received your information secondhand, the dry voice of your boss confirming that what you were seeing on the screen was the truth, your phone call interrupted by the jarring ring of your alarm in a gut twisting fit of irony.

“Don’t bother coming in,” they told you, “you’ll receive your final check in the mail by the end of the week.”

“What about the others?” You’d asked on baited breath, hopeful.

“The others… you mean the animatronics?” A beat of silence, and only that, “they’re gone,” management answers, “everything is gone.”

You didn’t want to believe it. For weeks after, you did nothing but fight the information, distancing yourself from the memory of it all together. It was nightmarish, a plague of guilt which circled you like vultures in the night.

You had been there, only a night before the fire. You had been there. Made small talk with the staff bots. Had gossiped with the Glamrocks. And in the Daycare – in the Daycare you had made friendship bracelets. Silly, stupid, trivial, the thought of it makes you want to scream, now knowing what you do and how better you could have spent your last night with them.

Sun had bragged about a new shipment of pony beads and convinced you to sit and help him sort. Sorting them turned into stringing, which turned into knots. You had a pretty pastel lineup by the time he was satisfied, and they had two. One bracelet for each of them, yellow and blue. Your own boasted two stars and a heart, childish additions that you couldn’t bring yourself to argue against at the time, but especially now. It would hurt less to simply throw the gift out or stuff it into a box and stuff that box into a closet, and lock the closet door for the rest of your life. But you don’t do that. You keep the bracelet on your wrist like one keeps a locket against their heart, and you pretend it means nothing.

How impossible it is to find solace in the death of something that leaves no trace behind. You have no grave to visit, no ashes to mourn except the old remnants of a crumbling building they refuse to tear down, no final goodbye.

“See you in the morning,” they’d said, something heavier weighing on their tongue. Ultimately, they decided against the words and offered you a parting smile, instead. Warm, doting, it had felt like home.

It’s the last thing you have of them.

And you try to get past it. You run through every stage of grief like it’s a marathon and you’re late for the next race already, but you have no trophies to show for it, no rewarding fulfillment. The wound is fresh and raw. The gaping cavern of hopelessness no less enormous. You are as bitter and traumatized as the day you received that call.

Maybe that’s why you’ve found yourself here again, on the doorsteps to the plex, three-hundred-and-sixty-five days since you last dared to look in its direction. What you need isn’t medication or a therapist burning through your pockets, it’s closure. You need to see the body.

This suffering will not recede until you’ve convinced yourself there is nothing to return to.

There’s a sixth stage of grief they don’t want you to meet. If you remain a stranger to its siren call then you really, truly, will start to feel better. That’s what they say, time and time again, and it’s what you believed for a long while, but you’re through with fighting this emotion and through with pretending it doesn’t rule your every waking moment. Its name is lunacy, and it tells you to duck beneath old, yellow tape and take a brick to the building’s rotten structure.

The shattering of glass falls on deaf ears. You march through the opening with purpose, giving no thought to the nicks and scrapes and beads of crimson that form along your skin as you make your way further into the depths of this desolate building. No life stirs from its festering core, nor light from the smoldered ceiling, blackened with old soot. Debris crunches beneath a pace that refuses to slow until you find yourself standing before the two doors most familiar to you, and only then, do you stop.

Everything stops.

Sanity winds you with its return, startling you into questioning what the hell you’re doing here. They’re dead. You know that, don’t you? Really, deep down inside, you know it to be true. You know there’s nothing that could evade such devastation as this. You know they are gone. For good. Forever.

Still, that minute, resilient hope continues to pulse with a beat of its own desire, and you haven’t the strength to put an end to it now. After a year of waiting, of wailing, of walking into circles that lead to nothing but more agony, you can’t bring yourself to call it quits. Not after you made it this far. You had to know, once and for all, or the question would drive you over an edge you’ve been skirting beyond recognition.

Your hand outstretches and comes to a halt at the doorknob, fingers twitching a flick of the wrist away, and there it sits, hesitant, terrified, until desperation spurs it forward the remaining way and the rusted knob is turned ever so gently to the right.

The door springs open with a force that drives you backwards, tumbling stumbling fumbling through the air, knees buckling, you land on your ass with a hardy thump and stare, aghast, at the wreckage that stands between the open frame.

A familiar face stares back.

The animatronic bursts from their entrapment like confetti out of a canon, claws drawn and eyes aglow with a menacing half-grin, only reeling themselves back a step upon the sight of you, where they go completely still.

The scream that rips through your throat does not come unbidden; they are not your beloveds but something else entirely, a grotesque assortment of gears and torn fabric, disheveled beyond belief, splayed about with the same obscenity of exposed bone. They are not Sun and they are not Moon and they are not someone or something that you can easily recognize, simply a horrifying by-product of disaster.

Even still, your fear appears to force them back a cautionary second step, and then a third, as if taking on the frail hope that they won’t scare you so terribly in the dark. That if you can’t see them past the shadow, maybe you won’t look at them that way.

“Ffr…rrrr...fri…f...”

You swallow hard around the lump in your throat and attempt to make sense from any of this. The word it– he– they attempt to speak is as familiar as it is foreign, and you can feel an immediate shift in the way your lunacy becomes hysteria, and you laugh. You laugh even as tears well up and begin to river down your cheeks. You laugh as their arm outstretches to meet you—

“Don’t!”

–and then you stop, and they stop, too, and all falls silent.

The expression they make is beyond your understanding. Where before you could reasonably find human emotion in their mechanic smirks and smiles, now all you see is barren metal. Loose gears with sharp edges. It creates a nausea that builds and builds until you want to roll over and relieve yourself of everything you’ve ever consumed.

Rather than try again, their arm recoils ever slowly and instead lifts to point at the wrist of their other, gesturing with great hesitance to the two bracelets found there. One blue, and one yellow.

“Ff...fri…e-end?”

Your stomach lurches and then drops as it comes to a conclusion. Quickly, your gaze snaps toward the pastel beads that sit so neatly on your own wrist, the string keeping them together now old and fraying. Your eyes return to their wrist and see perfect color among the blackened metal. The string beneath it still holds up despite its surroundings having burnt hopelessly. The implications of this – that they protected it to the very end – immediately severs any remaining instance of fear.

You move blindly through the tears, climbing back to your feet with every intention to try again. The creak and screech of crooked metal can be heard as they retrace another step backward in response, flinching from your approach, allowing you greater space between them. It makes your heart plummet to the very pit of your stomach.

“They told me you were dead,” you cry, “they told me there was nothing left to save,” a daring step forward has you that much closer to them, and then another, and another, slow and shaky as it goes, “they told me not to come looking,” your feet stop directly before their own, bare-toed silver against scuffed rubber. You share their shadow and in their sorrow, mourning the short distance still between you and the distance of the days you’ve spent apart. They wait for your lead, paralyzed with anticipation, as you raise a doubtful, trembling hand to cup their ruined cheek. “Is it really you?”

The stillness is suffocating, no less agonizing than the phone call, because any answer beyond the one you seek will feel like death all over again. You can’t imagine yourself content in life with the knowledge that the one you care so deeply for – even without recognition, without ever having said the words – is nothing more than a husk of who they once were. It would ruin you.

And what remains after ruination?

Love remains. Love remains and it is a slow, sure nod. It is a cold hand cupping with meticulous care over your own and refusing to let go. It is them. And they are yours.

A sob breaks from your throat before you can stop it, greater and louder than you've allowed yourself to feel to the day. Relief floods your chest until you think it might burst.

The hand at their cheek pulls back if only to wrap around their waist, fingers bunching desperately into the remaining fabric of their collar and smearing the ash at their back, holding so tight that you hear their frame begin to creak and moan, followed immediately by their own arms cradling your body against them with an equally bone-crushing weight, one you for once don’t fight. Rather, you would be content to stay like this forever.

It isn’t the pins and needles in your arms or the pungent smell of smoke that eventually forces you out of the position, but instead, the sudden forming of a plan and your intention to immediately put it into action. When you pull away it’s to take both of their hands in your own, and only then do you step back from the door, guiding them toward you.

“Come on,” you smile, because at last there is reward for your hope, “…let’s get you home.”

[uselessgay10101]

I mentioned it to @the-realmsdelight when I started out "Heart of Trespia"

But I still find it so funny that it's not HOMOPHOBIA that damns me but CLASSISM

[dustedmagazine]

Dusted Mid-Year 2024, Part III (The Lists)

Winged Wheel

Dusted’s writers picked two for the mid-year exchange, but any of them could easily reel off a dozen or more other favorites.  Find out what else they liked in this collection of lists. 

If you haven’t read Part I or Part II yet, check them out. 

Christian Carey

Arooj Aftab —  Night Reign (Verve)

Richard Baker —  The Tyranny of Fun (NMC)

Kyle Bruckman —  Of Rivers (New Focus)

Madi Diaz —  Weird Feeling (Anti)

Julia Holter —  Something in the Room She Moves (Domino)

Hurray for the Riff Raff —  The Past is Still Alive (Nonesuch)

Vijay Iyer, Linda May Han Oh, Tyshawn Sorey —  Compassion (ECM)

Kali Malone —  All Life Long (Ideologic Organ)

Rosali — Bite Down (Merge)

Caroline Shaw and Sō Percussion —  Rectangles and Circumstance (Nonesuch)

Ches Smith —  Laugh Ash (Pyroclastic)

Waxahatchee —  Tigers Blood (Anti)

Tim Clarke

DIIV — Frog In Boiling Water (Fantasy)

Loma — How Will I Live Without A Body? (Sub Pop)

Jessica Pratt — Here in the Pitch (City Slang)

Jon Mckiel — Hex (You’ve Changed)

Winged Wheel — Big Hotel (12XU)

Corridor — Mimi (Sub Pop)

English Teacher — This Could Be Texas (Island)

Helado Negro — Phasor (4AD)

Ty Segall — Three Bells (Drag City)

The Smile — Wall of Eyes (XL)

Andrew Forell

Arab Strap — I’m totally fine with it 👍 don’t give a fuck anymore 👍 (Rock Action)

Camera Obscura — Look to the East, Look to the West (Merge)

Daryl Groetsch — Above the Shore (self-released)

Drahla — angeltape (Captured Tracks)

Geotic — The Anchorite (Basement’s Basement)

Iceboy Violet, Nueen — You Said You’d Hold my Hand Through the Fire (Hyperdub)

Kim Gordon — The Collective (Matador)

Mick Harvey — Five Ways to Say Goodbye (Mute)

Sandwell District — Where Next? (Point of Departure)

Umbrellas — Fairweather Friend (Slumberland)

Yosa Peit — Gutbuster (Fire)

Reissues:

Brion Gysin — Junk (WEWANTSOUNDS)

These Immortal Souls — Get Lost (Don’t Lie!) Mute

Bryon Hayes

Rosali – Bite Down (Merge)

Winged Wheel – Big Hotel (12xU)

Gastr Del Sol – We Have Dozens of Titles (Drag City)

Beings – There is a Garden (No Quarter)

Ambarchi Berthling Werliin – Dusted II (Drag City)

Sunburned Hand of the Man – Nimbus (Three Lobed)

Water Damage – In E (12xU)

Dun-Dun Band – Pita Parka Pt. 1: Xam Egdub (Ansible Editions)

Gerycz Powers Rolin – Activator (12xU)

Magic Tuber String Band – Needlefall (Thrill Jockey)

Alex Johnson

Rosali — Bite Down (Merge)

RE Seraphin —  Fool’s Mate (Take A Turn/Safe Suburban Home)

Uranium Club —  Infants Under the Bulb (Static Shock)

The Spatulas —  Beehive Mind (Post Present Medium)

Yohei —  Echo You Know (Perpetual Doom)

Pardoner —  Paranoid in Hell (Convulse)

NYSSA —  Shake Me Where I’m Foolish (Six Shooter)

Nowhere Flower —  Ruts the Place (Radical Documents)

Sheer Mag —  Playing Favorites (Third Man)

Cindy Lee —  Diamond Jubilee (Realistik Studios)

Oren Ambachi / Johan Berthling / Andreas Werlin —  Ghosted II (Drag City)

Winged Wheel —  Big Hotel (12XU)

Jennifer Kelly

Rosali—Bite Down (Merge)

Mdou Moctar—Funeral for Justice (Matador)

Mary Timony—Untame the Tiger (Merge)

Myriam Gendron—Mayday (Thrill Jockey)

Lupa Citto—S-T (12XU)

James Elkington & Nathan Salsburg—All Gist (Paradise of Bachelors)

Rail Band—S-T (Mississippi)

Winged Wheel—Big Hotel (12XU)

Six Organs of Admittance—Time is Glass (Drag City)

Split System—Vol. 2 (Goner)

Ian Mathers

The Body & Dis Fig — Orchards of a Futile Heaven (Thrill Jockey)

Broadcast — Spell Blanket: Collected Demos 2006-2009 (Warp)

Cassandra Jenkins — My Light, My Destroyer (Dead Oceans)

Chelsea Wolfe — She Reaches Out to She Reaches Out to She (Loma Vista)

Jessica Moss — For UNRWA (Self released)

Laura Masotto — The Spirit of Things (7K!)

loscil // lawrence english — Chroma (Self released)

Myriam Gendron — Mayday (Feeding Tube/Thrill Jockey)

Polar Inertia — Environment Control (Northern Electronics)

Whitelands — Night-bound Eyes Are Blind to the Day (Sonic Cathedral)

Jim Marks

Ben Allison, Steve Cardenas, and Ted Nash — Tell the Birds I Said Hello: The Music of Herbie Nichols (Sonic Camera)

Mary Halvorson — Cloudward (Nonesuch)

Demian Cabaud — Arbol Adentro (Porta Jazz)

Fabiano do Nascimento and Sam Gendel — The Room (Real World)

Francesco Sensi — In Abstracto (WoW)

James Brandon Lewis Quartet — Transfiguration (Intakt)

James Elkington and Nathan Salsburg — All Gist (Paradise of Bachelors)

Juan Pablo Alcazar — Otro Quatuor Pour La Fin Du Temps (Porta Jazz)

Michele di Toro, Yuri Goloubev, and Hans Mathisen — Trinomics (Calogola)

Tony Moreno Trio — Ballads Volume 1 (Sunnyside)

Patrick Masterson

Cindy Lee — Diamond Jubilee (Realistik)

Chief Keef — Almighty So 2 (43B)

Marika Hackman — Big Sigh (Chrysalis)

Water Damage — In E (12XU)

Oneida — Expensive Air (Joyful Noise)

Winged Wheel — Big Hotel (12XU)

Burial — “Dreamfear / Boy Sent From Above" (XL)

Gouge Away — Deep Sage (Deathwish Inc.)

Blues Ambush — Blues Ambush (Radical Documents)

Tei Shi — Valerie (self-released)

Armand Hammer — BLK LBL (self-released)

Donato Dozzy — Magda (Spazio Disponibile)

Bill Meyer

 أحمد  [Ahmed] —Wood Blues (Astral Spirits)

 أحمد  [Ahmed]—Giant Beauty (Fönstret)

Bill Orcutt Guitar Quartet—Four Guitars Live (Palilalia) 

Itasca—Imitation of War (Paradise of Bachelors) 

Lisa Ullen, Heirloom (Fönstret)

Lumpeks—Polonez (Umlaut) 

Matthew Shipp Trio, New Directions in Jazz Piano Trio (ESP-Disk’)

Olivia Block—The Mountains Pass (Black Truffle)

Oren Ambarchi / Johan Berthling / Andreas Werliin—Ghosted II (Drag City)

Rafael Toral—Spectral Evolution (Moikai) 

The Handover—The Handover (Sublime Frequencies) 

Tomeka Reid Quartet—3x3 (Cuneiform) 

Jonathan Shaw

Bad Breeding—Contempt (Iron Lung)

Fuera de Sektor—Juegos Prohibidos (La Vida Es un Mus)

Cindy Lee—Diamond Jubilee (Realistik Studios)

SUMAC—The Healer (Thrill Jockey)

Thou—Umbilical (Sacred Bones)

VR Sex—“Hard Copy” (Dais)

[thisisnotjaeu]

Remember that time I said I wanted to make an HTF AU but it's about Eunwoo and.how I'm gonna make him a Mary Sue with a Spy x Family type of thing going on?

Yeah, just enjoy a WIP of Eunwoo welcoming Yoongsung as Hobin's new disciple. He's a hyung now :DDD

But in the AU, Eunwoo is actually a year younger than Yoonsung. Eunwoo lied about his real age when he was a kid because he assumed Hobin wouldn't let him stay of Hobin knew he was younger. Jokes on him, he got enrolled in Grade 1 way too early-

That or Eunwoo is accurately guessing his age, but he lost track of time to cope the loss of his family-

[loptrcoptr]

ariana grande got started on broadway before she did nickelodeon

I worked a few Nickelodeon shows with her back in the day and she was such a brat. Then again that was… oof, twelve years ago? longass time, maybe she’s not a brat anymore lol! Still dreading it, she’s spent a long, long time perfecting her style and brand (which I do not enjoy, personally) and I just don’t see her sliding out of it for this. But maybe she’ll prove me super wrong and nail it, idk

[woodsteingirl]

I FROGOT ABOUR ETHE THINFS THE DTA AUTHOR SAID ABOUT FULVIA. I THINK IM GOING TO GET SOO MAD AGAIN.

[qjaiden]

dunno what i'll do w this blog 👍

[chuchaaay]

I’ve been working night shift for the past 7 years and let me tell you, it really do be like that sometimes 😭 Actually ever since I turned 30, my memory has been shit and I have to make myself little reminders and input appointments on my calendar app. Otherwise, I will forget or double book! So I made myself a little sticky note on my desk to gently remind myself that I have to go to the store in the morning to buy food! 😂 but ofc I was in a hurry to leave work and forgot all about it 😆 its all good, I ended up getting everything I need. I have to make my bomb ass pasta salad bc my favorite PA (Physician Assistant) is working tonight 🖤🖤🖤

[tockamybeloved]

Philosykos by Diptyque reviewed at Scent Bar DTLA

[masterclassofcl]

+2க்கு பிறகு கோடிகளில் சம்பளத்தை அள்ளித்தரும் இந்தியாவின் தலைசிறந்த IIT / NIT க்கு இணையான Govt & Govt Aided institutions க்கு வழிகாட்டுதல்

💠உங்கள் பிள்ளைகளின் தனித்திறனைக் கண்டுபிடித்து அந்த துறையில் Master ஆக்க வேண்டுமா?

💠21 வயதில் ஆரம்ப சம்பளம் 30 இலட்சம் முதல் 2 கோடி வரை அள்ளிதரும் துறைகள் பற்றி தெரிய வேண்டுமா?

💠 IIT / NIT க்கு இணையான இந்தியாவின் தலைசிறந்த Government & Govt. Aided Premium Institutions மற்றும் Unique Courses பற்றி தெரிய வேண்டுமா?

உங்கள் இலட்சியத்திற்கும், +2 மதிப்பெண்ணிற்கும் சம்பந்தமே கிடையாது?

+2 வில் 70% Marks இருந்தாலே போதும் இந்தியாவின் தலைசிறந்த Top Notch Govt / Govt. Aided Premium Institutions ல்தனி நுழைவு தேர்வு மூலம் Admission வாங்க முடியும்!!!

நிகழ்வு விவரங்கள்: தேதி: 14.07.2024 இடம்: Kalavasal, Madurai

பதிவு செய்ய: www.themasterclass.co.in/register

[ithisatanytime]

(iist⋆｡°✩)

[muzzlemouths]

hey did I tell you guys that my Ruin!Eclipse fic (If I Start to Stray) is named after a specific song

[coraniaid]

OK, in the spirit of positivity (or at least the spirit of putting down a concrete list of opinions that other people can judge me for), these are my picks for the best Buffy episodes in every slot of each season. Not the best episodes overall, but the best episode 1, the best episode 2 and so on.

When She Was Bad [Season 2]

Real Me [Season 5]

Faith, Hope & Trick [Season 3]

Help [Season 7]

No Place Like Home [Season 5]

Family [Season 5]

Lie To Me [Season 2]

Tabula Rasa [Season 6]

What's My Line? (Part 1) [Season 2]

Hush [Season 4]

Ted [Season 2]

Prophecy Girl [Season 1]

Dead Things [Season 6]

Innocence [Season 2]

Consequences [Season 3]

Who Are You? [Season 4]

Passion [Season 2]

Earshot [Season 3]

I Only Have Eyes For You [Season 2]

The Prom [Season 3]

Graduation Day (Part 1) [Season 3]

Restless [Season 4]

Disclaimers:

I think that, as the single double-length episode it originally aired as, Bargaining is probably the best season opener. But considering it as two separate episodes, I don't think it works quite as well, which is why it doesn't make the list in either slot.

Obviously Season 1 is shorter than the others, but I've just counted its episodes as 1-12 in the obvious way and not tried to make any adjustment for that.

Some positions have ridiculous amounts of competition: almost any season except Season 1 could have made the slot for episode 7, for example, and it's a little frustrating not to have Lovers Walk or The Body or either part of Becoming on the iist (I think Becoming Part 2 is the second best season finale after Restless).

Equally in other positions competition was rather less fierce (I mean, I like What's My Line? and Ted fine but I certainly don't think either of them are one of the show's twenty-two best episodes).

[bm-blog01]

My Favourite Anthony Looks: The Best of the Rest

Now that my top 10 favourite Anthony Looks is complete, I will finish up with five looks that didn't quite make the top 10.  In no particular order here are the best of the rest.  

Season 2, Episode 2: Before the Soiree

This look is one that we see on Anthony in several scenes, the first being when he gifts the horse to Edwina, and then again when he talks to Benedict at the club and asks for a poem, however I have chosen the scene just as Violet, Colin and Eloise were leaving for the Soiree to add to my list of favourites, because it is slightly dressed down with no jacket and sleeves rolled up.  Anthony's look is the standard dark trousers, white shirt, and white cravat, with a dark blue waistcoat that is embellished with gold detailing.  The detailing on his waistcoat gave the look of stars, and when the light caught it in the darker evening scenes it almost sparkled.  Anthony's waistcoat colour and design is reflected in Kate's dress at the Soiree, which we see interspersed with the scene of Anthony getting the poem from Benedict, connecting them as Benedict reads his poem. 

Season 2, Episode 1: Anthony's 'interviews'

In the montage where Anthony is conducting 'interviews' for a wife we see him in dark colours, a Navy blue jacket, a greyish blue waistcoat, and an indigo blue cravat.  Having Anthony begin the season in darker hues was a deliberate choice by the costume designer, in order to show that Anthony was taking his responsibility to settle down seriously, reflected with the serious way that Anthony approached finding a wife. 

Various episodes:  Anthony's Formal Wear

This is not just one look as such, but rather a variety of looks that are so similar I can't choose just one, nor can Iist them all separately, it is Anthony's formal looks.  Anthony wears very similar clothes for formal events, usually consisting of black trousers and jacket, with a white shirt and cravat, and a gold or white waistcoat.  We have seen Anthony in variations of this look in both season 1 and season 2, at everything from the presentations to balls, to the wedding in season 2.  

Season 2, Episode 8: Anthony and Gregory 

In the scene with Anthony and Gregory we see Anthony in the same clothing from earlier in the episode when he first finds out Kate had woken up, and again when he went to visit Kate, but again I have chosen this scene because again we see Anthony in a partially undressed state, showing not only that this is his home and he feels comfortable here, but that he doesn't feel the need to be formally dressed around his family.  Anthony is again wearing black trousers and a white shirt, this is paired with a dark indigo cravat and a lighter blue patterned waistcoat.  The dark indigo cravat is something we have seen previously in the season, especially earlier on, but usually paired with darker coloured waistcoat, so I think the lighter blue of Anthony's waistcoat represents Anthony realising his love for Kate, and being open to that love.  

Season 2, Episode 5:  The Lake

I could not do a list of favourite looks for Anthony without including his 'Darcy moment'.  This is very much an indulgent choice, but who can overlook seeing Anthony in a transparent white shirt, Kate certainly couldn't!  What we see here is Anthony beginning the scene dressed in his usual daytime wear of a dark jacket and cravat with a white shirt.  As Anthony goes into the lake we see him beginning to strip off, he removes his jacket (and maybe a waistcoat), then his cravat, before emerging from the lake in his transparent shirt.  This could be seen as a metaphor for Anthony's journey - stripping away the emotional layers to leave himself emotionally bare before Kate.