#Iris Silver Mist

[parfumieren]

Iris Silver Mist (Serge Lutens)

Iris seems to come in two forms: rich, bready and warm or raw, watery and cold. Though I haven't nearly explored the full range of available iris perfumes, I can safely say that I prefer the full-fat version to the pale, low-calorie tincture any day of the week. Between the two, a link must exist-- some sort of connector between earth and raincloud.

Why not lightning?

Iris Silver Mist (great name, seemingly arrived at via some sort of collaborative word-game, like "Miranda Sex Garden") is an ozonic take on iris to which La Myrrhe clearly owes a stylistic debt. I knew La Myrrhe could not have sprung whole from the head of Osiris; it had to have an antecedent, a source point from which its eerie DNA descended. Iris Silver Mist is that source. Neither as sepulchral nor as soulless as its cousin of one year later, it nevertheless is a bit of a cold fish-- placing it, at least nominally, in the 'tincture' category of iris fragrances. What saves Iris Silver Mist from primordial chill is its sense of suggestive friction-- rather like the ghostly electric crackle that sheer nylon stockings produce when the wearer crosses her legs. The skin underneath may be alabaster-pale and chilly, but the blood coursing deeper down is reliably hot.

I imagine that Iris Silver Mist would leave me cold in March, with the temperature barely cresting 40°F under the bitter bite of the wind. But in the heat of high summer, it's a treat-- and when the flicker of lightning heralds the advance of storm clouds, she will lay her cool hands on my forehead, and I will feel content in her presence.

Scent Elements: Iris, galbanum, cedar, sandalwood, clove, vetiver, musk, benzoin, amber, incense, oakmoss

[persolaise]

Balmain and Bottega Veneta 2024 re-launches, Dior Tendre Poison and Serge Lutens Iris Silver Mist reviews

My final reviews of the year, featuring the re-launches of Balmain and Bottega Veneta.

The gremlins were out in full force for this year’s final set of Love At First Scent broadcasts. The audio at the start of one of the videos turned out to be atrocious (for reasons utterly unknown to me) and then the camera placement decided to pull some kind of weird misalignment trick in the final episode. Apologies for the less-than-ideal viewing experience. But hopefully, you’ll be able to…

[adragonprinceswhore]

Rumours

Aemond Targaryen x (Ex)Wife

Chapter III: Dreams 🎼 Masterlist

Summary: You miss Aemond, yet you can’t stand to be near him. Will performing a new song about your separation make you feel better?

Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, angst, toxic relationship dynamic, possessive Aemond, fighting, smut, oral (f receiving), spanking, thigh riding, P in V, thumb in bum, spit kink, degradation

Word count: 5750 A/N: Thank you always my love @theoneeyedprince ♡

“This is the third day in a row that guy comes in here, orders a coffee, and pretends to work on his laptop as he stares at you”, Alysanne whispers in your ear and points to the silver haired man sitting in the back corner of the campus coffee shop. 

He’s clad entirely in black, and his long hair is neatly tied in a low bun at the base of his neck. 

“You should go talk to him!”, she urges with a gentle push on your shoulder. 

“What? No. He’s not been staring at me”, you shut her nonsense down, slightly embarrassed by your friend's pushiness. Alysanne is such a hopeless romantic; always convinced that the love of your life’s lurking around the next corner, constantly looking for a ‘meet cute’ to thrust you into. 

“Oh, come on! He’s definitely been checking you out! Maybe he’s just shy?”, she argues, staring at the stranger unabashedly as he sips his coffee. Her lack of discretion fuels the nerves bubbling inside you, eager to end this embarrassing conversation as soon as possible. 

“Aly, please. A guy like that doesn’t get shy. Typical rich fuckboy”

He certainly is good-looking, and probably knows it as well, dark designer clothes a stark contrast to the surrounding patron’s jeans and sweatshirts. He looks to be around your age, a student as well, you’d guess. 

Alysanne hums in response, moves to stand by the display of sweets by the register, and places a cinnamon bun on one of the small dishes stacked on the counter. 

Before your protests stop her, she walks towards where the stranger is sitting, a wide smile plastered on her face, 

“Hi there! My lovely friend and coworker over there made these earlier today. Would you like one?” 

Her voice is unnaturally cheery as she places the dish on the table next to the stranger's laptop. 

He looks up, nods stiffly in confirmation, and quietly mumbles a “thank you” before quickly returning to type on the keyboard, eyes again on the screen. 

“Would you like to talk to her? I can ask her to come over here”, Alysanne offers, voice still upbeat, so energetic it nearly comes across as intrusive.   

The stranger seems slightly thrown off by her forwardness. He looks up at her in surprise, but stays silent. 

To anyone else, his stoicism and unfriendly demeanour would be enough reason to leave him be. But not Alysanne, who turns around to catch your eye and gesticulates for you to come over with an exaggerated wave of her hand. 

From behind the register, you’d watched the scene unfold in horror, certain that your friend would embarrass you to the point where ‘rich fuckboy’ would tell everyone on campus about what a freak you are. 

You slowly make your way over, eyes boring holes into Alysanne as you force yourself to smile, dreading the inevitable faked  niceties you’ll have to exchange with the strange, silver-haired man. 

His face is even prettier up-close. 

High cheekbones, strong jawline, sharp nose, beautiful eye- 

Your gaze stops at his left eye. The baby blue iris is covered by a thin mist of white, and a red, angry scar slashes through the socket, starting at his forehead and ending at cheekbone. 

“Hope you like it”, you blurt out, trying to grab Alysanne’s hand and tug her away from the unbelievably awkward interaction. She’s still smiling, dodging your hand while her attention stays on the stranger in front of you, 

“Would you like her number?”

Alysanne persistence causes dread to pool in your gut. God, she could be so forward it was disturbing; completely ignoring what you thought to be common social decency. 

Your heart is hammering in your chest as the stranger hums at your friend’s question, 

“Actually, I wanted to ask you about the open mic last week. Did you write that song?” 

“‘Planets of the Universe’? Um, yes, but it’s not really finished, um, I mean, I just sang it for fun, I was kinda drunk last Friday..”

Your babbling reflects how the stranger makes you feel; nervous and unsure. His face is impassive, and his tone so unemotional it borders on stern. 

You only performed that silly song because your friends were pushy and you were buzzing on way too many margaritas. Why does he care about who wrote it? 

“You’re not a guitarist, I assume?”, he asks and you notice the corners of his lips briefly turn upwards, as if to prevent a smile from breaking out. 

God, the audacity of this rich fuckboy. 

“No, but like I said, it was just for fun”, you bite back. 

You don’t care for his condescending tone, or his efforts to make you feel bad about your sub-par guitar skills. Does he not understand what ‘just for fun’ means? 

The stranger’s gaze is still locked on you as he hums in response. He stares with an intensity that leaves you feeling even more unsettled. 

“You’ve got a very unique voice” 

The unexpected compliment takes you by surprise, and a warmth spreads over your face; heating up your cheeks. 

“My siblings and I play a bit of music on the side, for fun” he says with an emphasis on the last part, mimicking you, “I think your voice would go well with the sound we’re trying to create”

He sounds very matter-of-fact, like he’s offering you a business proposal. You notice something shine in his intense gaze; something inviting that makes it hard for you to concentrate on what he says. 

“The song you performed has great potential, with a proper guitarist backing you up, that is. If you’re interested, we’re meeting up tomorrow night” 

You’re briefly lost for words, not expecting him to be so forward. Alysanne is practically vibrating with excitement next to you, glancing over at you with a wide smile and big, expectant eyes. 

“Sure, I’ll stop by after work” 

Your infatuation with Aemond started slow. 

Essentially, it was the small things he did that pushed you to the realisation that he isn’t just some ‘rick fuckboy’, but a quite caring and sensitive man. Albeit with a layer of stoicism obscuring his more tender side. 

Things like him insisting that he needs to walk you home after band practice, even if it’s still bright outside. Or him picking you up in his car when it rains, so you ‘don’t catch a cold’. Or him offering to help you with coursework, surprising you with detailed, hand-written notes tucked in between the pages of your textbook. 

Aemond is caring in such a genuine way, always asking you how your studies are going, how work at the campus cafe is like, if you’d eaten anything. Always straight-to-the-point. And when you answer, he listens to you with such intensity, you’d think whatever comes out of your mouth is of grave importance. For the most part, it’s not. 

You soon find yourself looking forward to seeing him, heart skipping a beat every time he picks you up after you've finished your shift at the cafe. He always waited outside of the cafe, observing you tidying up through the shop window with a cigarette glowing between his fingers. 

When he asks you one day if you’d like to grab dinner after practice, you eagerly accept his invitation, trying your hardest to hide the excitement you feel as he says a quick goodbye to his brother and sister before leading you out of the studio you used for practice. 

It’s not a date, not really, yet when you sit next to Aemond in that dimly lit booth at the rather posh Yi-Ti-inspired restaurant he’d picked, it sure feels like one. 

That night, after sharing a bottle of wine, your face is warm and you’re filled with alcohol-infused confidence. As you talk animatedly about your favourite musician, Aemond regards you with a small smile playing on his lips, eyes intensely meeting yours to take in all your telling him. You feel a sudden urge to kiss him, and though it is chaste and unplanned; a result of your slight intoxication, you feel mortified as you pull back, ready to apologise for placing your lips on his without consent. Before you have a chance, he places a hand on your cheek and pulls your face back towards his, kissing you passionately, though his lips are soft and gentle. 

As you pull away, eyes still closed and mind lost in the bliss of your first kiss, you hear Aemond murmur a quiet “finally”. 

As a partner, Aemond seems to study you just as diligently as he studies everything else. 

He quickly picks up on your favourite things.  

If you’d been admiring a particular flower when you passed by the flower shop on your way to campus, you’d later find a bouquet waiting for you at home. When you went to museums and exhibitions together, he’d lean in next to you, one hand gently on your waist and soft lips right by your ear, and tell you everything he knew about the artist or artwork in front of you. Later, he’d buy you postcards of the paintings you’d shown particular fascination with, so you could decorate your bedroom wall with them. 

Though he claimed that his knowledge of the arts simply stemmed from being a history major, explaining that “art is one of the greatest insights we have to previous decades”, you have a strong suspicion he actually knows so much because there’s a secret love for the arts tucked away inside him, where he keeps the more sensitive parts of his soul. 

Sometimes you’re privy to that too. 

Like the time he wanted to take you out to a fancy restaurant downtown to celebrate your six month anniversary. Being a student, you didn’t really have money to spend on anything besides rent and food, meaning that you hadn’t been able to reciprocate the lovely gifts Aemond had given you since you first got together. 

Determined to give him something meaningful, you purchase a small frame from the local charity shop, print out some pictures you’d taken together from the university library, and put together a little collage of your time as a couple. 

You include a message on the back of it, thanking him for everything he’s done for you; for being such a caring boyfriend. 

As you timidly hand him your homemade gift at the luxurious restaurant, you feel a storm of unease swirl within you, suddenly overcome with embarrassment that you couldn’t get him anything nicer. 

Aemond’s eyes light up in a way you’d hardly seen before. 

He turns the gift over in his hand, admiring the photo collage and reading the little message on the back. 

Grabbing your hand, he looks into your eyes and says a quiet “thank you”, and the gravity and sincerity of his voice lets you know that he appreciates the simple gift more than he can put into words. 

The coming week you stick to the same set list; kicking off each performance with ‘The Chain’ and finishing with ‘Go Your Own Way’. You’d like to pretend that the performances got easier as time went on, but that would be a lie. 

Each night, you’re forced to sing Aemond’s self-pitying words; ‘if I could, I’d give you my world’. You have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes each time. What made him incapable of ‘giving you his world’ when you were married? He made it sound like he had no part in your divorce; like all he did was try and love you while you broke his heart. 

Fuck that. 

He broke your heart. And he kept breaking it. Every fucking night he made you sing his martyr complex bullshit. 

It wasn’t anything new, not really. This is how it so often went when you fought as a married couple, it had just taken a new form. The bones of it are the same; Aemond is upset and shuts you out, you try to reason with him and get burnt. 

There’s something about his attitude when you find yourselves in a fight. He could turn so condescending, berating you for your emotions. Like he’s better than you for not letting them get the best of him; for not shouting or crying. 

He thinks showing that something hurts him is a sign of weakness. That he’s too smart to let his insecurities and doubts overtake his senses. So he can pretend he doesn’t feel such unbecoming emotions. 

Even when they prove too strong to push down. 

Aemond has been quiet for the entire trip back home, jaw shut tight and eyes refusing to meet yours. 

You know something’s off in the way his usual stoicism doesn’t feel natural, but forced. He’s holding something back, keeping something from you, and you can’t figure it out for the life of you. 

As you enter your flat, he finally breaks the silence. 

“Did you like that?”

His voice is colder than you’re used to. You recognise the tone though, from when he’s had enough of Aegon’s endless shenanigans. 

You step out of your heels and turn around to face him, “Like what? The party?”

His face is set in a frown and he irritably clicks his tongue at your obliviousness, 

“You know what I mean, don’t play dumb” 

You really have no idea what could’ve prompted his sour mood, so you stay quiet, waiting for him to continue. You don’t feel like playing these games with him; they won’t lead anywhere. 

If he’d just tell you what made him upset, you could solve the issue and move on.  

He sighs at the lack of answer, “You liked all that attention, didn’t you?”  

Oh. 

He’s jealous. 

“Oh come on, Aemond, this is great for the band! We’re getting recognition! We’re recording our first album!”

You don’t want him to rob you off the excitement you’d felt today, talking to one of Westeros biggest record labels and finally getting the recognition you’d worked so hard for. 

He turns to face you, features still stern as he backs you into the wall, 

“But did you like it? The way that guy from the record label was eyeing you?”, he asks again. 

You know Aemond has a tendency to get protective of you; fussing over you and insisting that you listen to him. And when he’s caring, and when you feel anxious, it feels comforting to have someone protect you so fiercely. But you’re not a child, and he doesn’t have to treat you as one. 

“Why would I like it?”

Your challenge makes him move closer. You see the way his pupil is blown wide, the heat in his gaze radiating off him. 

“I think you did. I think you enjoy the attention”

It’s almost laughable; the fact that Aemond Targaryen, undoubtedly one of the most alluring people you’ve ever met, feels threatened by some sleazy guy from a record label. How could he think some guy flirting with you would affect your affection for him even in the slightest? 

Still, there’s something intriguing about the dark look in his eye. It’s so passionate; the way he observes you. Like he wants to devour you. Punish you. Claim you. 

It sparks something alight inside you. You want to match his fire.  

“Maybe I did”

You have to bite your lip to prevent a smirk from breaking out. Will he fall for the provocation? 

Aemond’s eyes narrow. They travel from your face down to your body, and his arms come up to cage you against the wall of your hallway, 

“You like tormenting me, is that it?”, he asks lowly and presses the tip of his nose to the side of your face, trailing it down your cheek. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, lowering your lips to press kisses onto his neck, 

“Yes”, you say against his skin, a light chuckle escaping your lips. 

It’s almost cute when he gets like this, and so flattering in the most twisted way. He’s just as enchanted by you as you are by him. 

He startles you by pulling away, grabbing you by your waist and flipping your body so you’re suddenly facing the wall. 

He rucks up the short skirt of your cocktail dress with much more force than necessary and a firm smack lands on your ass. The sudden sting of pain makes you inhale sharply and you feel your pulse elevate with excitement.  

Behind you, Aemond drops to his knees, kisses your stinging backside, and pulls at the flimsy material of your thong until it tears in two, falling to the floor. 

His insatiable display causes desire to pulse within you; an ache that nestles itself between your thighs and beats as fast as your heart. 

Pushing on your lower back, he urges you to lean forward as he continues to soothe the aching flesh of your ass with sweet kisses. 

The chill air of the room feels strange against your hot, wet cunt, and you wish he’d touch you in the place you needed him most. The place that painfully pounds with want for him. 

As if he could read your mind, Aemond grabs the front of your thighs with his large, warm hands and he presses his face against your exposed cunt, unwilling to waste any more time as he swipes his tongue over your swollen clit. 

You moan in gratitude and your forehead falls to make contact with the wall in front of you, the sweat of your forehead sticking to the cool surface. 

He knows exactly how to work you; how to make you squirm and tense up and reach your peak in no time. 

With each movement of his tongue against your clit, you feel your peak grow closer; an embarrassingly fast release only your beloved could elicit. 

As you lose yourself in the pleasure, and your hips begin to move in tandem with Aemond’s tongue, his debauched kisses lessen, and he pulls away from your cunt, wiping his sticky face against the back of your thigh. 

You let out a frustrated whine, turn around to face him, and look down at him, still on his knees. 

“That’s just cruel, Aemond”

He looks so beautiful kneeling in front of you, long hair dishevelled and cheeks flustered pink. 

“Maybe I like tormenting you as well”

He still has that darkness dancing in his eyes, but now accompanied by the playful grin that’s spreading across his face. He stands, leans in so closely your body gets pushed against the wall behind you, and places one of his legs between your naked thighs, 

“Beg me to fuck you”

He rocks his jeans-clad thigh against your exposed core as he makes his demand; blue colour quickly darkening from the stain of your arousal. 

You throw your head back and moan at the pleasurable friction, the harshness of the fabric providing wonderful relief to your aching clit. Your hips quickly meet the rhythm of his thigh, and when he lowers his face to bite at your nipple through the thin material of your dress, you feel your previously denied release approach once more. 

You move yourself more forcefully against his thigh, and as your movements turn sloppy from pleasure tightening inside you, he pulls away yet again.  

You know you look like a mess with your hair frizzy from the friction of the wall, spit covering the fabric over your nipple, and the lower part of your body fully exposed; inner thighs sticky from arousal. 

“Aemond, please”, you whine as he straightens up, face wholly entertained by your miserable state. 

“Beg me to fuck you”, he repeats, this time slower and with emphasis on each word. 

You bite your lip and look at him. You can see the hardness of his cock straining against his jeans, but you know he’ll never relent; never give you what you want until you give him what he wants. 

“Please”, you plead, hands moving forward his zipper to undo his trousers. 

He tuts and slaps your hands away, 

“Beg”, he repeats, face returning to its previous, stern expression. 

You’d like to think you’re as good as him at playing these games. But you’re not. You don’t have the patience. 

“Please fuck me Aemond. Please make me come, please make me feel good, please stretch me out on your cock, please-” 

Your pathetic surrender is cut off by his lips on yours, kissing you passionately, stealing your breath. 

Pulling down his zipper, he takes his length in hand; rock hard and glistening with arousal. He pushes your body up against the wall and you quickly catch on, wrapping your legs around him as he enters you in one swift motion. 

“Fuck! Thank you!”, you cry out when he finally gives you what you want, and an amused snort espaces his nose. 

Aemond wastes no time in ravishing you and sets a brutal pace, pelvis repeatedly hitting your clit as his cock hits your g-spot. You’re unable to do much more than to just take it; take the mind-numbing pleasure he’s forcing upon you. 

For the third time, your peak is within reach, so close your cunt starts to tighten around Aemond’s cock. To your dismay, his pace slows, and you’re back to begging,  

“Please, I’m so close. Please let me come Aemond”

He pulls out, smiles at the devastated frown on your face, and turns you around once more. 

This time, he presses your body against the small side table by the front door, pushing his hand on the back of your head so that the side of your face makes contact with the wooden surface, ass prettily propped up and glistening entrance waiting for him. 

He presses the slick tip of his cock against your leaking hole, and pauses without entering. His large form looms over you as his hand reaches for your face, thumb stroking your lower lip, pulling it down to reveal your teeth, 

“Who do you belong to?”

His voice is lower, and calmer, than before. You look up at him; at his lust-filled eyes and kiss-swollen lips. 

You. Always you.

“You” 

Aemond’s thumb is still on your lower lip. He leans down and pushes his length fully into you again, making you let out a cry in blissful relief. 

God it feels so good. 

You see him purse his lips together, spit collecting between them, and he slowly lets it drip down to where his thumb is. 

Onto your lower lip, your tongue, your teeth. 

He smears his spit around your lips and tongue with his thumb, pace of his hips picking up to thrust into you harder. The table beneath you rocks against the wall aggressively loud. 

“Would you let anyone else fuck you like this?”, he asks, trailing his spit-soaked thumb down your body, stopping between your asscheeks to push at your puckered hole. “Never”, you assure, moaning as he pushes his thumb in, never ceasing the pace he’s set as he fucks you on the table. “Didn’t think so. You’re my little slut. Mine. No one else will ever see you as fucking cockdrunk as I do”

Maybe it’s the heat of his tone. The dark, possessive passion that excites you, even in its volatility. 

Maybe it’s the way he knows your body. How he can turn you into a begging, pathetic mess by the briefest of touches. 

It’s hard to decipher what makes your orgasm feel so utterly consuming, but when it hits, and your body shakes from the force of it, you know that no one else will ever have this effect on you. 

You. Always you.

You’ve made it a habit to go back to your hotel room between the sound check and the show, not able to bear spending more time around Aemond than absolutely necessary. 

Both of you had tried to keep up with the cordial act, but even Erryk had started to catch on to how forced each of your interactions felt. Whenever you or Aemond addressed the other, everyone around you tense up and the air feels thick; like you’re all just waiting for what’s bubbling beneath the surface to finally erupt. 

Tonight, as you’re getting ready for the tour’s fifth stop in White Harbor, no amount of breathing exercises seem to lessen your nerves, making your hands clammy and heart flimmer in anxious anticipation. 

You’re finally going to perform one of your new songs for Rumours. 

What if the fans hate it? 

Writing has helped you deal with the aftermath of your separation; a tedious effort to make the painful end of your relationship into something meaningful. A song about lost love. 

What if it sounds awful live? 

Recording separately means that this will be the first time the band actually plays the song, as opposed to each member recording their own part in solitude. 

The song sounded good in post-production. It’ll sound great live too.

You try to repeat the comforting phrase to yourself as you spot Aemond and Alys in your peripheral vision; her arms around his neck, his lips coming down to brush against her cheek. 

You don’t know if you’d rather barf or cry at the display, but when Aemond’s seeing eye briefly searches for yours, your stomach turns in disgust.

The intro of your new song starts to play; upbeat drums accompanied by a melancholic guitar melody. Aemond plays it flawlessly, just like you knew he would.

This is it. Your time to shine; to actualise the pain that’s been wearing you down for the past months. To make it into something that means something. 

Your music.

‘Now there you go again, you say, you want your freedom’

‘Well who am I to keep you down?’ 

You don’t want to look at Aemond, don’t want to mimic the staring contest he challenges you to each time he sings ‘The Chain’ or ‘Go Your Own Way’. 

You’re not doing this for him, you’re doing this for yourself. To make sense of the suffering he’s caused you. You’re doing it for the fans; all those who can resonate with what you’re singing.

‘But listen carefully to the sound of your loneliness’

‘Like a heartbeat drives you mad in the stillness of remembering what you had’

‘And what you lost’

Oh but gods, do you want to throw him a quick glance though. 

See hurt in his eye. 

See his jaw tick in anger at your words. 

‘Thunder only happens when it’s raining’ 

‘Players only love you when they’re playing’ 

Now you understand why he wanted you to do backup vocals on his new songs. You feel so powerful as you make him sing your lyrics, a sudden rush of hubris getting the best of you as you steal a glance of him.

‘They say women, they will come and they will go’

‘When the rain washes you clean, you’ll know’ 

You’re disappointed to find him in his usual state, stoic face turned away from you.

The recent rage-filled, passionate tone his voice had adopted is gone. He sounds just as calm and precise as he usually does. 

‘Now here I go again, I see the crystal vision’

‘I keep my visions to myself’

‘It’s only me who wants to wrap around your dreams’

‘Have you any dreams you’d like to sell?’

‘Dreams of loneliness like a heartbeat drives you mad’

‘In the stillness of remembering what you had’

‘And what you lost’

Like the previous nights, you’re in a rush to get back to your hotel room as soon as the show ends. 

As are your bandmates; no one really enjoys the tension that seems to be a permanent feature whenever you are all in the same room. 

As you’re about to jump into a taxi with Helaena outside of the venue, you realise that you forgot the tote bag you keep your notebooks and music sheets in backstage. You tell her to go ahead and quickly make your way back to retrieve your forgotten bag. 

A security guard lets you back in and you spot your tote immediately, laying on one of the many cheap fold-out tables lining the walls of the room. As you make your way towards it, you hear someone clear their throat in the other corner of the room. 

You’ve no idea what he wants, but you turn around in an instance, leaving your bag on the table. 

Aemond is sitting by himself in a dark corner of the large room, stomping out a cigarette onto the silver ashtray he's holding in his left hand. He places it on the ground and leans back in his seat, 

“I never said that, you know”. 

His voice is low. He sounds tired. 

“Said what?”

You’re still sadistically disappointed by the fact that he’d acted so indifferent during your performance of ‘Dreams’, and it reflects in your voice. He has a talent of bringing it out of you.

“I never said ‘women come and go’, or whatever. The reporter said it” 

His voice grows more irksome with each word, matching yours. 

Sure, he hadn’t said it. But he might as well have. 

“Whatever, Aemond”, you sigh, too tired to engage in pointless discussion with him. You turn to leave, reaching for your bag, but he stops you once again,  

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t perform that song again”.

You let out a startled, joy-less laugh at his audacity, “Too bad”

“Then change the lyrics. It’s obviously about our… relationship” 

You can sense strain in his voice. He’s holding something back.

Maybe you finally got to him.

“So are your new songs”, you counter. 

He is such a hypocrite, it’s almost laughable. An unbecoming characteristic of his that reared its ugly head more frequently as your relationship got worse. 

“I never say they are though. You’re quoting me, hard to assume it could be about anyone else”

His voice is low and dark, you have to focus to properly hear him. 

“Thought you didn’t say that?”

You have to bite the inside of your lower lip to keep yourself from grinning as you add, 

“Maybe the song is about the reporter?” 

The provocation works. Aemond swiftly stands up, seeing eye dark and threatening as his voice grows louder, 

“My songs aren’t filled with blatant lies, you’re calling me names and shit” 

His nostrils are flaring as he breathes heavily, hand flexing in an attempt to stifle his rage. 

You’d got to him. 

“You can’t be for real, Aemond! Every fucking time you perform your new songs you're staring at me on stage, singing about how I can ‘go my own, lonely way’! You have no right dictating what I write or how I express myself”. 

He’d gotten to you too. You can’t hide your irritation any longer, a whole week being in his insufferable presence proving to be too much.  

It’s his turn to throw a condescending laugh your way. 

“Well, you’re the one who kept going on about how lonely you were”

Back when you were still together, when the fights had became a permanent, unavoidable recurrence, you had accused Aemond of never truly letting you in, leaving you feeling lonely in your relationship. 

But there’s a difference between feeling disconnected from your partner, and being unable to be on your own. 

“You couldn’t be alone for a second, Aemond, that’s how fucking lonely you are. How long did it take you to hook up with Alys? 3 days!?”

“Because you left me!”, he shouts back. 

And there it is; the anger that he pretends he doesn't have within himself. The ugly, raw emotion he thinks he’s too good to let overtake his senses. 

His voice isn’t cold anymore. 

His face isn’t indifferent. 

His eyes shine with heartbreak, but so do yours. 

“You chased me away with your fucking obsessive behaviour! You deserved to be left!” 

Sometimes when you fought when you were married, you’d hold yourself back, still trying to protect Aemond’s feelings to some degree by not purposefully hurting him just because you were angry. 

Not anymore. 

He grimaces slightly at your words and you feel a sick sense of satisfaction.

He deserves it. 

You can’t bear to look at him, and you can’t hear anything either, heartbeat thumping in your ears so loudly it’s giving you a headache. 

If you stay, and see that the fire in his eye has been extinguished by regret, you might cave in. 

You can’t. 

So you turn around, grab your bag in a haste and storm out of the door, rushing to get hold of a taxi on the busy street by the venue. 

You hold it together in the car ride to the hotel. You thank the driver and offer him a tip, you enter the building and go to the elevator, smile at an elderly couple who engage you in some polite smalltalk about the weather. 

It’s not until you enter your hotel room and lock the door behind you that you allow the tears to fall. 

They seem endless, and all you want to do is crawl into bed and sleep. 

Seeing the empty space, the empty bed, makes you feel so lonely a stinging pain goes through your chest. You're pulled back to the memories of living with Aemond, coming back home to him; sleeping in the same bed as him. 

You miss him so much it hurts. Not the person you’d just had a fight with backstage. You miss the Aemond he was before; your Aemond. 

You think about the Aemond in the museum, who’d tell you about the history of the Water Gardens and Prince Maron Martell.

You think about the Aemond that kissed your forehead before each show. 

You think about the Aemond that loved you. 

You go to your closet, stretch your arm all the way to the back, and search for what you know to be there. Your hand finds the soft sweatshirt and you pull it out from the dark corners of your hotel room closet, quickly pulling off all of your clothes until you’re standing in nothing but your underwear. 

Aemond’s uni hoodie still smells like him. You cry harder, uglier, as you put it on, burying your nose in the fabric and inhaling deeply. 

Maybe the Aemond you miss still exists in your dreams. 

You get under the duvet, nose still nuzzled in the soft fabric and body shaking from the violent sobs leaving your body, and fall asleep.

A/N: Before you ask, no. She doesn’t know if Aemond met Alys exactly three days after their separation. She’s exaggerating for emphasis, as one often does when fighting. The point is that he “moved on” suspiciously fast.

Planets of the Universe is a demo song that never made it onto Rumours, but it so good; very raw and real. TY for reading 🩵

[pupsmailbox]

GOTH ID PACK

NAMES ⌇　abby. ace. addam. alister. amelia. amoret. ange. angel. angelo. anubis. arch. archette. ash. aslan. aspen. astor. astoria. astrophel. atticus. axelle. azazel. azrael. bael. bat. batsy. bella. bellatrix. blade. blair. blanchette. brahms. branwen. cain. callan. calliope. cannibelle. caskeite. casketta. caskette. caspian. celeste. celestia. chaos. charlotte. cherry. chira. chiraelle. chiro. chiroptairre. chiroptelle. chiropteranne. choir. christian. cofette. coffin. coffine. constantine. corbin. corpse. crimson. crow. crowley. damian. damien. demonesse. divina. dorian. draven. edgar. elatha. elijah. elix. elwin, elwin. elwood. ember. emmaline. etienne. evan. evangeline. eve. faith. forest. forrest. frill. frille. frilleine. frilliette. frilly. genesis. ghost. gothita. gothitelle. gothitess. gothitesse. grey. gwen. gypsy. hades. hawthorne. hecate. hemlock. imortalle. imortella. iris. israel. jakob. jet. jett. johnas. josiah. judas. kain. kane. kedi. keir. lacey. laciene. laciette. lazarus. leo. lilith. lilithe. lolita. lucid. lucien. lucifer. lucius. luscious. lynx. maeve. malice. mana. martyr. max. melancholy. merle. micah. michael. misery. mordred. morris. mors. morte. mortis. mourge. mourgette. myrette. nightshade. noah. noctre. nocturne. noir. obsidian. oleander. omen. onyx. orion. orpheus. ozul. ozzy. prince. prophet. raven. ravenie. raveniette. rook. rowan. ruby. saber. saint. salem. samael. samuel. scarlet. secrette. seraph. serenity. shilo. shiloh. silas. silver. silvester. skelly. skulliene. skulliette. skully. sorrow. sylvester. syn. thorn. thorne. tobias. tommy. trix. umbriel. valkyrie. valo. vervain. vesper. victoria. ville. violetta. vito. vlad. woundie. zeon. zephyrine.

PRONOUNS ⌇　abby/abby. ae/aer. ash/ash. bat/bat. bleed/bleed. blood/blood. book/book. bug/bug. burn/burn. chain/chain. chap/chapel. chill/chill. claw/claw. cloud/cloud. cob/cobweb. cof/coffin. coffin/coffin. corps/corpse. creep/creep. cri/cross. cro/cros. cross/cross. cross/crosse. da/dark. dae/dae. dae/daem. dark/dark. decay/decay. dee/dark. des/despair. devout/devout. div/divine. dust/dust. echo/echo. edge/edgy. en/envie. fae/fang. fang/fang. fe/fear. fie/fiend. fog/fog. fri/frill. frill/frill. ghost/ghost. ghoul/ghoul. gore/gore. goth/goth. goth/gothic. gra/grave. grave/grave. ha/haunt. halo/halo. hie/hiem. ho/holy. holy/holy. horn/horn. hx/hxm. hy/hym. ink/ink. lace/lace. lae/lace. lost/lost. mist/mist. moon/moon. net/fishnet. ni/night. night/night. null/null. par/parasol. parasol/parasol. pray/pray. pray/prayer. proph/prophet. ro/rose. rose/rose. rot/rot. rust/rust. sac/sacrifice. saint/saint. scar/scar. shx/hxr. shy/hyr. si/sinister. sin/sin. sku/skull. skull/skull. snake/snake. spider/spider. spike/spike. sto/storm. stud/stud. thou/thorn. thron/thorn. thxy/thxm. vae/vaer. ve/ver. velvet/velvet. vo/void. whis/whisper. whisper/whisper. witch/witch. wood/wood. x/x. xae/xaer. × . ♠️ . ♣️ . ⚰️ . ⛓️ . 🌑 . 💀 . 🕯 . 🕷 . 🕸 . 🖤 . 🥀 . 🦇 .

[cryptidclaw]

Cryptidclaw's WC Prefixes List!

Yall said you were interested in seeing it so here it is! 

This is a collection of mostly Flora, Fauna, Rocks, and other such things that can be found in Britain since that’s where the books take place! 

I also have other Prefixes that have to do with pelt colors and patterns as well!

Here’s a link to the doc if you dont want to expand a 650 word list on your Tumblr feed lol! the doc is also in my drive linked in my pined post!

below is the actual list! If there are any names you think I should add plz tell me!

EDIT: I will update the doc with new names as I come up with them or have them suggested to me, but I wont update the list on this post! Plz visit my doc for a more updated version!

Animals

Mammal

Badger

Bat

Bear

Beaver

Bison

Boar

Buck

Calf

Cow

Deer

Elk

Fawn

Ferret

Fox

Goat

Hare

Horse

Lamb

Lynx

Marten

Mole

Mouse

Otter

Rabbit

Rat

Seal

Sheep

Shrew

Squirrel

Stoat

Vole

Weasel

Wolf

Wolverine

Amphibians

Frog

Newt

Toad

Reptiles

Scale

Adder

Lizard

Snake

Turtle

Shell

Birds

Bird

Down

Feather

Albatross

Bittern

Buzzard

Chaffinch

Chick

Chicken

Coot

Cormorant

Corvid

Crane

Crow

Curlew

Dove

Duck

Dunlin

Eagle

Egret

Falcon

Finch

Gannet

Goose

Grouse

Gull

Hawk

Hen

Heron

Ibis

Jackdaw

Jay

Kestrel

Kite

Lark

Magpie

Mallard

Merlin

Mockingbird

Murrelet

Nightingale

Osprey

Owl

Partridge

Pelican

Peregrine

Petrel

Pheasant

Pigeon

Plover

Puffin

Quail

Raven

Robin

Rook

Rooster

Ruff

Shrike

Snipe

Sparrow

Starling

Stork

Swallow

Swan

Swift

Tern

Thrasher

Thrush

Vulture

Warbler

Whimbrel

Wren

Freshwater Fish 

Fish

Bass

Bream 

Carp

Dace

Eel

Lamprey

Loach

Minnow

Perch

Pike

Rudd

Salmon

Sterlet

Tench

Trout

Roach

Saltwater fish and other Sea creatures (would cats be able to find some of these? Probably not, I don't care tho)

Alge

Barnacle

Bass (Saltwater version)

Bream (Saltwater version)

Brill

Clam

Cod

Crab

Dolphin

Eel (Saltwater version)

Flounder

Garfish

Halibut

Kelp

Lobster

Mackerel

Mollusk

Orca

Prawn

Ray

Seal

Shark

Shrimp

Starfish

Sting

Urchin

Whale

Insects and Arachnids

Honey

Insect

Web

Ant

Bee

Beetle

Bug

Butterfly

Caterpillar

Cricket

Damselfly

Dragonfly

Fly

Grasshopper

Grub

Hornet

Maggot

Moth

Spider

Wasp

Worm

Trees

Acorn

Bark

Branch

Forest

Hollow

Log

Root

Stump

Timber

Tree

Twig

Wood

Alder

Apple

Ash

Aspen

Beech

Birch

Cedar

Cherry

Chestnut

Cypress

Elm

Fir

Hawthorn

Hazel

Hemlock

Linden

Maple

Oak

Pear

Poplar

Rowan

Redwood

Spruce

Willow

Yew

Flowers, Shrubs and Other plants

Berry

Blossom

Briar

Field

Flower

Leaf

Meadow

Needle

Petal

Shrub

Stem

Thicket

Thorn

Vine

Anemone 

Apricot

Barley 

Bellflower

Bluebell

Borage

Bracken

Bramble

Briar

Burnet

Buttercup

Campion

Chamomile

Chanterelle

Chicory

Clover

Cornflower

Daffodil

Daisy

Dandelion

Dogwood

Fallow

Fennel

Fern

Flax

Foxglove

Furze

Garlic

Ginger

Gorse

Grass

Hay

Heather

Holly

Honeysuckle

Hop

Hyacinth

Iris

Ivy

Juniper

Lavender

Lichen

Lilac

Lilly

Mallow

Marigold

Mint

Mistletoe

Moss

Moss

Mushroom

Nettle

Nightshade

Oat

Olive

Orchid

Parsley

Periwinkle

Pine

Poppy

Primrose

Privet

Raspberry

Reed

Reedmace

Rose

Rush

Rye

Saffron

Sage

Sedge

Seed

Snowdrop

Spindle

Strawberry

Tangerine

Tansy

Teasel

Thistle

Thrift

Thyme

Violet

Weed

Wheat

Woodruff

Yarrow

Rocks and earth

Agate

Amber

Amethyst

Arch

Basalt

Bounder

Cave

Chalk

Coal

Copper

Dirt

Dust

Flint

Garnet

Gold

Granite

Hill

Iron

Jagged

Jet

Mountain

Mud

Peak

Pebble

Pinnacle

Pit

Quartz

Ridge

Rock

Rubble

Ruby

Rust(y)

Sand

Sapphire

Sediment

Silt

Silver

Slate

Soil

Spire

Stone

Trench

Zircon

Water Formations

Bay

Cove

Creek

Delta

Lake

Marsh

Ocean

Pool

Puddle

River

Sea

Water

Weather and such

Autumn

Avalanche

Balmy

Blaze

Blizzard

Breeze

Burnt

Chill

Cinder

Cloud

Cold

Dew

Drift

Drizzle

Drought

Dry

Ember

Fall

Fire

Flame

Flood

Fog

Freeze

Frost

Frozen

Gale

Gust

Hail

Ice

Icicle

Lightening

Mist

Muggy

Rain 

Scorch

Singe

Sky

Sleet

Sloe

Smoke

Snow

Snowflake

Soot

Sorrel

Spark

Spring

Steam

Storm

Summer

Sun

Thunder

Water

Wave

Wet

Wind

Winter

Celestial??

Comet

Dawn

Dusk

Evening 

Midnight

Moon

Morning

Night

Noon

Twilight

Cat Features, Traits, and Misc. 

Azure

Beige

Big

Black

Blonde

Blotch(ed)

Blue

Bounce

Bright 

Brindle

Broken

Bronze

Brown

Bumble

Burgundy

Call

Carmine

Claw

Cobalt

Cream

Crimson

Cry

Curl(y)

Dapple

Dark

Dot(ted)

Dusky

Ebony

Echo

Fallen

Fleck(ed)

Fluffy

Freckle

Ginger

Golden

Gray

Green

Heavy

Kink

Knot(ted)

Light

Little

Lost

Loud

Marbled

Mew

Milk

Mottle

Mumble

Ochre

Odd

One

Orange

Pale

Patch(ed)

Pounce 

Prickle

Ragged

Red

Ripple

Rough

Rugged

Russet

Scarlet

Shade

Shaggy

Sharp

Shimmer

Shining

Small

Smudge

Soft

Song

Speckle

Spike

Splash

Spot(ted)

Streak

Stripe(d)

Strong

Stump(y)

Sweet

Tall

Talon

Tangle

Tatter(ed)

Tawny

Tiny

Tough

Tumble

Twist

Violet

Whisker

Whisper

White

Wild

Wooly

Yellow

[alwayschasingrainbows]

My little quest to find the most iconic dresses for Montgomery's girls.

None of the pictures is mine. They are all from Pinterest. They may be historically inaccurate. They are also not ideal :).

Valancy Stirling:

"She got a pretty green crêpe dress with a girdle of crimson beads, at a bargain sale, a pair of silk stockings, to match, and a little crinkled green hat with a crimson rose in it." (The Blue Castle).

"She had a little smoke-blue chiffon which she always put on when they spent the evening at home—smoke-blue with touches of silver about it." (The Blue Castle).

My idea of what Valancy's (borrowed) masquerade dress MIGHT have looked like.

"Once they did go to a masquerade dance in the pavilion at one of the hotels up the lake, and had a glorious evening, but slipped away in their canoe, before unmasking time, back to the Blue Castle." (The Blue Castle).

Emily Byrd Starr

On the left: "It is to be of shot silk, blue in one light, silver in others, like a twilight sky, glimpsed through a frosted window-pane—with a bit of lace-foam here and there, like those little feathers of snow clinging to my window-pane." (Emily Climbs)

On the right: "An arrow of rhinestones in her dark hair—she had hair that wore jewels well—lent the necessary note of brilliance to the new dress of silvery-green lace over a pale-blue slip that became her so well." (Emily's Quest).

On the left: "it was a pretty crepe thing, of a pinkish-grey—the shade, I think, which was then called ashes-of-roses—and was made collarless—a great concession on Elizabeth's part—with the big puffed sleeves that look very absurd to-day, but which, like every other fashion, were pretty and piquant when worn by the youth and beauty of their time." (Emily Climbs).

On the right: "I want you to wear harebell blue gauze over ivory taffeta for your bridesmaid dress, darling" (Emily's Quest).

Anne Shirley:

"Oh, how pretty it was—a lovely soft brown gloria with all the gloss of silk; a skirt with dainty frills and shirrings; a waist elaborately pintucked in the most fashionable way, with a little ruffle of filmy lace at the neck. But the sleeves—they were the crowning glory! Long elbow cuffs, and above them two beautiful puffs divided by rows of shirring and bows of brown-silk ribbon." (Anne of Green Gables).

"In her light dress, with her slender delicacy, she made him think of a white iris." (Anne of Island).

Rilla Blythe

"Miss Oliver, shall I wear my white dress tonight or my new green one? The green one is by far the prettier, of course, but I'm almost afraid to wear it to a shore dance for fear something will happen to it." (Rilla of Ingleside).

Pat Gardiner:

On the right: "Pat slipped into the house and flung a bright-hued scarf over her brown dress with its neck-frill of pleated pink chiffon. She always thought she looked nicer in that dress than any other." (Pat of Silver Bush).

On the left: "Pat had on her blue linen afternoon dress...which, incidentally, was the most becoming thing she owned."(Pat of Silver Bush).

And bonus:

Robin Stuart

"She wore a dress of pale yellow taffeta, with a great rose of deeper yellow velvet at one of her beautiful shoulders. Jane thought she looked like a lovely golden princess, with the slender flame of the diamond bracelet on the creamy satin of her arm."(Jane of Lantern Hill).

"[M]other came in to kiss her good night, cool, slim and fragrant, in a dress of rose crêpe with little wisps of lace over the shoulders. Mother's blue eyes seemed to mist a little."(Jane of Lantern Hill).

"She wore a green dress the first time I saw her...well, if any other girl had worn the dress, it would have been a green dress and nothing more. On Robin it was magic ...mystery...the robe of Titania. I would have kissed the hem of it." (Jane of Lantern Hill).

Another bonus (because her style is so iconic):

Ilse Burnley

"Ilse in a yellow silk gown the colour of her hair and a golden-brown hat the colour of her eyes, giving you the sensation that a gorgeous golden rose was at large in the garden." (Emily's Quest).

"Ilse, a glorified shining creature in torquoise-blue taffeta, looking the queen with a foam of laces on her full bosom and rose-and-silver nosegays at her shoulder." (Emily's Quest).

Hope you enjoyed this little compilation:) Feel free to add more ideas!

[fruitchouli]

any funeral fragrance recommendations? xoxo

funereal fish ok.. i’ve been thinking how slay lily of the valley is in a goth context bc it’s so out of style and is associated with young virginal innocence and isn’t sweet or sexy at all so it’s like scary courtney love in a little girls communion dress.. so i’d go with a really high quality LotV like

my friend is a basic witch so he said lutens de profundis, which is always the first to come to my mind when i think of funeral perfume bc of . how it’s marketed. chrysanthemum is the funeral flower.

also my friend reminded me that luca turin said iris silver mist also from lutens is what u wear to a poet’s funeral

[grimfox]

Charon and Pluto

Charon wept, so cold and lonely

upon yonder Stygian shore

her mode unkempt for lack of bounty

other than the silver, sure

Pluto languished, dark and hollow

feet draped in the Acheron stream

his countenance all slack and morose

dwindled to a shade, it seems

Charon swept her eyes upon him

lonely figure, shrouding mists

silver spheres from iris vibrant

rolling down upon her lips

Pluto, struck by silent beauty

stepping light through swirling fray

of dazéd deathly haze unfurling

hurtling like a darkling ray

a vast and ancient raven fluttered

down upon the river shore

or so it seemed to Charon

from her barren vantage, she implored

"Oh Lord, what terror have you yet

to set against my sorrowing?"

her inner hollows wet

with all forbidden errors following

"is my gaze so fierce?

that i should lay waste to a face as pure?"

he asked in eloquent locution

all abuse to be abjured

the drury maiden pauses-

oddest shimmer in the gloaming mist

"o, no offence was meant, my Lord"

she tore her eyes from his at this

Pluto felt a cry well up

within his heaving, ebon chest

that she should fear to gaze

upon his grave and solemn countenance

he mentioned this, yet not in words

he turned, and reaching for her hand

he brandished smiling for the first time,

worse than Wolf's, and yet, he managed

her, enchanted, "me, my Lord?"

an open chord of love forbidden

hidden by the Stygian shore

in sweet and noir reckless abandon

[noactofcharitygoesunresented]

Fairy names in different languages part 1: movie fairies

(Disclaimer: I’m not fluent in all of these languages (not even proficient in some), so a native speaker may be able to correct my translations. Also I did find the voice cast lists in Chinese, Japanese and Korean but sadly because I have pretty much zero experience with the characters I don’t feel confident enough to put that up here. Feel free to add on any language you’re missing/correct me on the ones you speak!)

I got this information from reading/watching/playing the books, movies, video games, magazines, colouring books etc. in different languages. For some languages I have more resources than others, which is why some languages may be featured more prominently here.

Brazilian Portuguese, English, Latin American Spanish, Turkish: Tinker Bell (I know in the movie logo her name is stylised as TinkerBell, which I personally prefer. But the official spelling from the books and J.M. Barrie is with a space in between, so I’ll keep that here.)

Czech: Zvonilka

Danish: Klokkeblomst

Dutch: Rinkelbel, Tinkelbel or Tinkerbel. Both mean something like jingly bell, so it’s not too far from the English name. In the Peter Pan-era Tink was called Rinkelbel, which was later changed to Tinkelbel when Disney Fairies became a thing and even later to Tinkerbel, likely to minimise the difference between her Dutch name and the original English one.

Finnish: Helinä-keiju

French: Clochette. Translates to little bell (cloche = bell; the suffix -ette makes it little).

German: Tinkerbell. Note the lack of space and capitalisation of the Bell.

Italian: Trilli

Hungarian: Csingeling

Norwegian, Swedish: Tingeling

Portuguese: Sininho

Romanian: Clopoțica

Slovakian: Cililing

Spanish: Campanilla

-----------------------------------------------

Brazilian Portuguese, English, Finnish, Portuguese, Latin American Spanish, Turkish: Fawn

Czech, Romanian: Fauna

Danish, Slovakian: Faunia

Dutch: Fauntje or sometimes Faun. Could be derived from either faun or fauna, both words meaning the same in Dutch as in English -- so the latter seems the most logical option. The suffix -tje means little (rather like -ette in French), and is not uncommon in names, especially in the North.

German: Emily, a name originally derived from the Latin Aemilius, meaning rival.

French: Noa, a name originally derived from the Hebrew נֹעָה (Noah), meaning motion.

Hungarian: Gida

Italian: Daina

Norwegian: Fie

Polish: Jelonka

Swedish: Vinka

-----------------------------------------------

Brazilian Portuguese, English, Latin American Spanish, Turkish: Silvermist

Czech: Mlženka

Danish: Silvia

Dutch: Zilverdauw, meaning Silver dew. I don’t really know why she couldn’t just have been named Zilvermist, as the word mist has basically the same meaning in Dutch as it has in English, but well. At least it’s close and makes sense.

German: Silberhauch, meaning something like Silver breath or Silver breeze. Still logical. At least here I understand why they couldn’t name her Silbermist: in German the word mist roughly translates to shit.

Finnish: Silver

French: Ondine, meaning wave.

Hungarian: Ezüstcsepp

Italian: Argentea

Norwegian: Sølvdugg

Polish: Mgielła

Portuguese: Neblina de Prata

Slovakian: Strieborná hmla

Swedish: Silverdagg

-----------------------------------------------

Brazilian Portuguese, Danish, Dutch, English, German, Finnish, Italian, Latin American Spanish, Norwegian, Romanian, Slovakian, Swedish, Turkish: Rosetta

Czech: Rozeta

French: Rosélia, a name which is derived from the Latin rosa (rose), just like her original name.

Hungarian: Rozetta

Polish: Różyckzka

Portuguese: Roseta

-----------------------------------------------

Brazilian Portuguese, Danish, Dutch, English, Finnish, French, Italian, Norwegian, Portuguese, Romanian, Slovakian, Latin American Spanish, Swedish, Turkish: Iridessa

Czech: Iris

German: Klara, a name derived from the Latin name Clarus, meaning bright.

Hungarian: Szivárványlány

Polish: Iskierka

-----------------------------------------------

Brazilian Portuguese, Czech, Danish, Dutch, English, French, German, Finnish, Italian, Latin American Spanish, Norwegian, Romanian, Slovakian, Swedish, Turkish: Vidia

Hungarian, Portuguese: Vídia

Polish: Widia. The standard 32-letter Polish alphabet does not have the V.

[namelessghoulsfacelessblogs]

Eye of the Storm

So, this amazing art and hc by @kabukiaku (here!) REALLY piqued my interest, and I just let my mind run wild.

Aaand.. Well, here's my interpretation of Mist's summoning after seeing the art.

Alternating POVs between what Omega and Mist see/experience!

Warnings: Drowning, panic attack, slight nudity, mentions of death and zombies/poltergeists/ghosts.

The moon was full above the still waters of Lago della Morte, shimmering off the ripples only created by wind. Two men stood aside the lake, one dressed in extravagantly beautiful robes and a mitre, a book of incantations in one hand and a beaded rosary in the other. His black and white painted features seemed to glow in the dark, along with the one white iris. The other, green, was lit up by not only moonlight, but determination. He turned to the other, a much taller, imposing figure, sturdily built with a gleaming silver mask. Bright, glittering blue eyes met the mismatched eyes of the shorter man, and he took a breath.

“You’re sure you want to do this? We have another month, another chance to find a different location.”

“No, no. Here. It has to be here. I had many dreams of this lake, amore, of someone coming from here.. Our newest Ghoul must be found here. I know it!”

“But Terzo-”

“Omega.” He gave him a look, one that the taller man knew meant he was set on this, and would not deviate. A heavy sigh came from Omega, and his tail flicked before he nodded.

“I understand, amore..” He placed a hand on Terzo’s shoulder, then pressed their foreheads together.

The Satanic Pope smiled at his Ghoul lover, and held his hand, lacing their fingers. “Good. Now, you know what to do?” Omega nodded and moved to the side of the lake, a few steps back. Terzo flipped the book open and took a breath, then began chanting, voice soft at the beginning, as was usual for his summonings. He would call for Lucifer, voice kind while the weather and environment allowed, and would grow louder as he got further into the ritual, the summoning. Omega watched him for a moment before his gaze shifted to the lake before him, the water still calm.

Lago della Morte - the name the Ministry had given to the lake just past the edge of their property, in a clearing just past a ring of trees in the forest, as though the plant life avoided it. Even the grass seemed to try and grow away from the water. It was an assumed portal to hell, and a site of a number of deaths, ranging from supernatural causes to human, and with causes from accidental drownings to suicides to violent murders or even dumped bodies.The spiritual power from that alone was surely nothing to sneeze at, not something Omega or any Ghoul took lightly. It was part of what fueled his hesitation and anxiety. His mind was filled with concerns, worries, fear for Terzo’s safety, and for the Ghoul who was being summoned. But he couldn’t back away now. He looked up at his lover again, Papa Emeritus Terzo, as the man chanted, calling out to the forces of darkness, to Lucifer. He wanted to make sure this worked. And Omega would make sure he was able to do this. He would make sure that this ghoul came through.

Beneath the surface, despite the calm waters above, something had begun stirring underneath. A hairline crack split in the depths, and as Terzo’s chanting continued, it spread. It began to heat up, red hot and bubbling the water. Slowly, the cracks became a large fissure- large enough to open a hole, and a clawed, webbed hand shot up from it. A dark, horned figure with hair spread around her in an infernal halo pulled herself up part way, shining eyes looking up towards the sound. 

Above water, the wind had picked up. Omega could see the shift in the water. There were rough waves on the surface, and bubbles rising.. But the shift in the energy was far greater. He could sense the infernal presence, the energy of the being being birthed through the mud and detritus below, but the spirits.. Tens of voices he could hear carried on the wind, screaming, begging to come home, or to be allowed rest, to be released- but then he heard one.

A body.

They knew the summon was there now.

Down below, the figure had finally pulled through, and stood on the murky floor of the lake. Eyes looked up, spotting the moon’s light. They reached up, then kicked off the floor- before a hand reached for their ankle. Skeletal, bit tight gripped. They felt something- their gills, the ones on their sides and their neck seemed to seal, and they gasped. But now, rather than being able to breathe clearly, they choked.Their throat filled with water, their lungs seemed to fill, and they nearly shrieked. More hands grabbed their naked form- both their ankles, then thighs, their tail, wrists, hands- They struggled, thrashing, panicked. What was this? What was happening? A new sensation gripped their heart, their mind, and their being.

Omega’s eyes widened. “Terzo-” He tried to call out, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t let the portal close- it could cause it to fail. He looked between the water and his love, and his heart twinged- but when he felt just how panicked and terrified the new summon was, he couldn’t do it. He dove in. He swam down, down, fast, and his pupils narrowed to slits as he went deeper. He saw them- their hands fighting dozens of cadaverous others and their eyes wide with panic. He grabbed them, and flooded them with his intent- to save them. They gripped him, and they tried to cry out. He shook his head before he grabbed them, forcing the hands away, and he kicked off a nearby elevated rock. He pulled them close and swam up to the surface, dragging them up and out of the water, coughing, sputtering. He heard them gasping too. They gagged, vomiting up a large mouthful of water, panic setting into their body, and he held onto them. “Terzo!”

The Papa had stopped, panicked as soon as he had seen Omega go under, When he’d come up, he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and he’d tried to calm down, but now, he saw this poor creature, who was screaming with fear and scampering away from the water. He returned to his texts and finished the ritual, closing the portal and extinguishing the infernal presence inside the lake before he grabbed for the simple white robe he’d brought for the new summon. He approached them and gently held his other hand out. “Per favore, stai fermo- I will not harm you. I promise. You have my word, on Lucifer, that I will do you no harm, and no harm will come to you.”

The new summon whimpered and stared at him with large, scared eyes, and Omega shifted, gently holding a hand out as well. The ghoul reached for him and clung to him when he held her close, then gently took Terzo’s hand. He helped the new summon slip into the robe, holding them close and trying to use his abilities to soothe her. It took a long time, but when their breathing finally began to calm, they looked up, and Omega gently smoothed their hair. “You’re safe..”

Terzo moved and reached to grab the mask they’d gotten for them, and gently handed it to Omega, who showed it to the summoned Ghoul. He then showed how he was wearing one, showing his face before putting it back on, then handing them the new one. They began to slip it on, and as they did, Omega and Terzo stood. The Papa reached his hand down to them once they could see, and when they took his hand, he helped them stand.

“And what is your name, new Ghoul?” His voice was kind and tender as he spoke, and he met their eyes.

They let the words come naturally. “I am Mist.”

Terzo smiled, and his eyes softened even further. “Ah, che bello. And are you..?” “Female. I want to be female.”

The two gazed at her softly, smiling.

“Eccelente. You’ll be my first Ghoulette, Mist. I will help you get acquainted with my other Ghouls.”

Mist looked to them both, eyes glowing from inside the mask, first to Terzo, then to Omega, then back to Terzo.

“That.. That would be nice..”

[here-there-were-dragons]

various primals

obsidian/lead/midnight (liquid shadow / shadow slick)

midnight/midnight/cerulean (forest umbralume)

midnight/midnight/gloom (blacklight dancer)

midnight/shadow/gloom (jester of the card castle court)

midnight/shadow/shadow (penumbral poison)

silver/gloom-obsidian-midnight/platinum (crevasse creature)

silver/orca/platinum (ghostlight gargoyle)

shadow/thistle/platinum (mystic hypnotist)

smoke/orca/lead (hypnotic hydra)

smoke/gloom/platinum (the fog consumes)

platinum/mist/shadow (corruption of mists)

platinum/fog/shadow (the mist obscures)

platinum/thistle/shadow (what the silence remembers)

obsidian/obsidian/blood (blades in the dark)

thistle/platinum/shadow (tears of the fallen)

midnight/iris/eggplant (weeping wood)

midnight/eggplant/twilight (weeping willow)

midnight/lead/shadow (thornbramble)

obsidian/platinum/shadow (binded creatures)

midnight/obsidian/midnight (glimmergloom)

mist/fog/shadow (whispering snakes)

flint/obsidian/fog (a crystalizing lie)

white-flint/orca/fog (white lies)

flint/orca/fog (secrets)

[persolaise]

Serge Lutens Iris Silver Mist Review - The Favourites - Maurice Roucel; 1994

My thoughts on one of the most haunting - and mysterious - scents ever made: Serge Lutens Iris Silver Mist, by Maurice Roucel. #perfume

[Serge Lutens Iris Silver Mist review based on a sample obtained by me.] My memory of this may not be accurate, but I’m fairly certain that in a biography of the Pet Shop Boys, which I read a couple of decades ago, there was a passage discussing the key line in their song Rent. The lyric is “I love you. You pay my rent,” and the discussion in the book focused on whether there should be a word…

[patheticbatman]

I don’t do this super often, but when I was 13ish I spent hours thinking about Percy and Annabeth’s future house. Idk why. And I wrote out their magical house in an iPhone note. I updated it every so often for a couple years, but as an adult I leave it alone as a monument to my childhood and my OTP.

But I just saw a really cool themed house from that home tours blog (it was pirate themed!) and wanted to share my ‘home tour’.

Please keep in mind the following was written mostly in 2014 by a young teen who made some shit up. So some of it may not be canonly possible now/never was a thing 

Percy and Annabeth's underwater cave house

Front entrance: dead tree on edge of Chase cliff. Whisper Jackson, and a slide that can take you up and down using antigravity and gravity leads to the house. You can notice tiny little jewels all over the house, enchanted for anti monster.

First level hallway: kitchen, dining room with conveyer belt leading between, gym, living room, bathroom. This is the second lowest level. The rest of the floors also have the slides to get there.

Kitchen has a large island, with lots of counters and cabinets. The walls are turquoise and everything else is chrome grey, like the fridge and such.

Dining room as a chandelier of rainbows, with a mini fountain that spurts any drink you ask for is in the middle of a ring table that could fit 16. If you give a coin, it can create an iris message. The table is silver grey wood while the wall is also turquoise.

The gym is just a mini work out area. Not decorated.

The living room is decorated with pictures of their friends. It has silvery gray walls, blue furniture, and a ten ft by ten ft tv. The dead tree actually has many minisatelites disguised as moss. They are enchanted to actually literally grow.

Third lowest level

Party room twelve guest rooms with their own bathrooms

,library.

Party room is just a blue room with food slide from the kitchen, some rables, and a disco ball with a wooden track around the large room for skating. Percy, with help from a friendly kid of Boreas, sometimes turn it into a winter wonderland in the summer.

Spare room 1

Frank n Hazels room usually, or will be when they start doing stuff. Green painted with gold furniture pretty much describes their rooms

Spare room 2

Will and nicos room usually. Black and silver furniture with gold walls

Spare room 3

Rachel's room Murals and a rainbow everywhere. Every surface is painted. Wicker/newspaper/hodgepodge furniture everywhere

Spare room 4

Piper and Jason's walls are red, and furniture is purple and pink. Actually looks nice and not too girly

Spare room 5

Calypso and Leo's room, done in red and oranges. Ps all the rooms had a small window like the ones in the hobbit

Spare room 6.

Hedge and Mellies room, with cradle. Everything is in light blues and dark greens

Spare room 7

Reyna's and future partner's room

Purple walls with gold and silver looking furniture, and 2 dog beds for aurum and argentum

The rest are kids rooms/ unplanned for when the guests have kids. They are plain. The last is a sort of playroom, with same size tv (everyone has a 2 by 3 tv in room)

Top level

Percabeth's room, future kids room(4), mrs. O'Leary's room, the offices, window room, carport, and percy and Annabeth's iwn offices

Future kids rooms are in pastel blue, yellow, green and orange

Mrs. O'Leary's room is giant, with lots of rubber yaks and other toys, and bowls filled with food and water always (they refill themselves). Done in red and silver. with special portal just for her and her owners to go out to Central Park.

Carport is just a garage that has a magical door that allows car to go through tree portel.

Lowest level

Garden and port and demigod Runaway shelter

Port is this giant cave, hidden by the mist to look like a cliff face that makes mortals just suddenly think about other things to do. It opens up to the sea, and they have this great boat called the sea owl, with eyes on the front. It also has a submarine, a small seaplane, and an elevator that goes to two portals to Olympus, and Atlantis. Has automatic spell where you have the small air bubble around you and your stuff. is painted on by enormous mural by Rachel.

Garden

Fruit trees that make all fruits (a rare tree called a cornucopia tree) lots of flowers and a gazebo. Painted and lighted to look like the outside that day. In middle there is a five-tiered fountain that sprays a rainbow. First level is made of Stygian iron, then celestial bronze, then Atlantean silver, imperial gold, and then heavenly steel that has a little dirt in it with a blue stemmed silver First Orchid. Has imported bees

Demigod safe base

A special Door that opens only to demigods and their helpers. and only let's demigods in leads you to the shelter. It has an ambrosia and nectar fountain, a water fountain that could turn to rainbows, free drachmas sent from the gods (only those in need can grab them), and ten beds with heated blankets. Small altar. Fridge full of ever re supplying food. Cabinet full of whatever medical stuff you need. Door that leads to Percabeth house, but only opens when you have permission.

[pupsmailbox]

DECTECTIVE︰MYSTERY ID PACK

NAMES︰ adler. aeris. agatha. aiden. aisha. akakios. alec. alistair. amadio. amos. anastasia. andie. annika. ansel. arden. ariel. aspen. atlas. auda. audr. august. augustine. augustus. aventurine. avery. barett. beau. belladonna. benedict. bentey. bentley. bian. blanc. blythe. bonaventura. bradley. briony. buenaventura. calix. caper. casey. castle. cebba. chance. chanceline. chancey. charis. chase. cipher. claude. cleo. cliff. clu. clue. clyde. colette. columbus. conan. constance. cora. corbin. cypher. daley. dalton. damon. daphne. darcie. darcy. darnell. darwin. dean. deanna. declan. dee. delia. devin. dex. dice. dot. dottie. doyle. duncan. edith. edmund. edric. edward. eivor. elmer. elysium. enigma. fog. fortuna. fortune. foxglove. gizem. godid. hannah. harley. harlow. harper. haze. holmes. indigo. iris. juke. jules. kasper. keme. king. leto. lilith. liraz. locke. maya. mist. morana. myst. mystery. nancy. neil. noir. noire. obscure. odilia. onni. ophelia. ortun. otto. pandora. poe. poirot. quinn. river. rivers. runa. rune. runfrid. sam. scarlet. selma. sher. sherlock. silver. sitheach. spy. sylvi. sylvia. tec. tyche. tychon. veil. veila. velma. vera. verity. vesper. vesta. watson. widow. wisteria. zero.

PRONOUNS︰ analyze/analyze. book/book. caper/caper. case/case. chance/chance. cipher/cipher. claw/claw. clu/clue. clue/clue. code/code. crime/crime. crime/scene. cypher/cypher. deal/deal. detect/detect. detect/detective. detective/detective. en/en. end/end. enigma/enigma. evidence/evidence. eye/eye. fate/fate. file/file. find/find. flaw/flaw. game/game. glass/glasse. grit/git. hidden/hidden. hide/hide. hint/hint. hunt/hunt. hypo/hypothesi. inv/investigate. invest/investigate. investigate/investigate. it/it. justice/justice. lore/lore. luck/luck. magni/magnifying. magnifying/glas. murder/murder. mys/mystery. myst/myst. myst/mystery. mystery/mysterie. mystery/mystery. noir/noir. note/note. obscure/obscure. per/perplex. poi/poison. private/private. psych/psych. puz/puzzle. puzz/puzzle. puzzle/puzzle. que/question. read/read. rid/riddle. rob/rob. rob/robbery. rpg/rpg. scene/scene. search/search. search/searche. sec/secret. secret/secret. see/see. seek/seek. sight/sight. sleu/sleuth sleuth/sleuth. sol/solution. sol/solve. solution/solution. solve/solve. spot/spot. spy/spy. stake/out. stake/stake. step/step. stole/stolen. story/storie. tape/tape. thon/thon. threat/threat. track/track. watch/watche. ⚰️ . ❓ . 🎭 . 🎮 . 🐦‍⬛ . 💉 . 💊 . 💡 . 📁 . 📖 . 📚 . 📹 . 🔎 . 🔐 . 🔑 . 🕹️ . 🗃️ . 🗝️ . 🗞️ . 🚬 . 🧩 . 🧬 . 🩺 .

[hippielittlemetalhead]

I should be working on my Punk!Steve thingy and I will but first I am running on enough caffeine to stop an elephant's heart and 3 hours of sleep and I had a ✨thought✨.

Son of Hades Steve but more Bianca di Angelo than Nico. He's charming and charismatic but even if people like him there's still that sense of Other and people fear what he's capable of (King Steve) and the stereotype that he's bad luck and not like other demigods and almost less human than them (relationship with Nancy and the bullshit scene). His parents know and his stepdad refuses to acknowledge him more than he needs to and his mom resents him for ruining her marriage even though she's the one who revenge cheated in retaliation for her husband sleeping with another secretary. So they send him to Camp Half Blood as soon as possible and he is there the majority of the year.

And

Son of Artemis Eddie. BECAUSE in many ancient civilizations the words/phrases we translate to virgin would be closer to unwed young woman rather than never slept with someone. Because Artemis has a lover, Orion but upon his death vows to never wed and declares herself a maiden/virgin goddess. So either like copying Athena in PJO or via the occasional ONS she has a handful of kids. We'll say for easiness sake she 99.9999% of the time has girls that she keeps as part of her hunters. The occasional .0001% that's a boy she sends to the father or the camp. Eddie was left on his father's doorstep in a soft grey woven bassinet and swaddled in silver cloth that seemed to glow with the light of the full moon. His dad isn't the best but once he was delivered Artemis didn't really check in with him and only finds out he'd been sent to his Uncle Wayne (who can see through the Mist) when one of her hunters who was working with CHB sees and recognizes him as a child of her Lady and reports back to Artemis. She claims him at the campfire the next full moon and he immediately starts calling only the Apollo kids cousins and they sort of adopt him as one of their own right back when he proves to be terrible at anything related to either his mother or uncle except taking care of kids (he is great at helping with little ones who are new to the camp or have to visit the infirmary) and/or animals, being the type to take little lost campers under his wing and a talent for music that would rival the most gifted of Apollo's cabin.

A la PJO style we meet our heroes around the ages 11-12, Steve had been in and out of the camp routinely since he was literally a toddler. He was found at daycare by a kind nymph who went by Claudia and her satyr toddler (Dustin 😏) and told the Harringtons about the camp. She did not expect them to basically send their 3 year old to boarding school most of the summer.

Dustin later found Eddie on his own since he was now technically 9 to Eddie's 12 but still physically pretty toddler looking it took some effort and Claudia had to intervene when she finally found her son and explain to the nice mortal man and his demigod nephew about Eddie being of Greek god descent and that with the rise of monsters trying to get at him already he should go to the camp for a bit to train. Dustin would stay at the camp with Eddie partially as punishment for running off and partially to help him acclimate and make sure Eddie was on time for when Claudia helped Wayne Iris message Eddie. Eddie is maybe 13 and been at camp for about a year when he gets claimed.

That's all I've got really besides Steve and Eddie try being friends cause they're both odd kids out w/who their parents are but it's a little out of nowhere after a year knowing of each other rather than knowing each other but also Steve has powers and charisma and that makes him worth hanging out with to majority of campers where Eddie can get kids to stop crying and is a Disney princess with how much animals like him. There's some animosity cause Steve is jealous Dustin is spending so much time with Eddie, especially when they and some of the other campers and younger satyrs discover DND and Eddie feels rejected cause they didn't click at all and his emotionally traumatized little ass made that Steve's fault. Till they're 16 and 17 and assigned a quest with Dustin as their satyr and third and they have to learn to get along and realize how much they have in common like the fear of what comes next when they age out of being campers and yeah Steddie happens and Dustin is smug.

Also Eddie learns completely by accident he can basically use music as a weapon DND bard style and he is way too happy about it and so pissed he didn't think of that sooner.

[pocketvenuslux]

I've been meaning to try scents by Chris Rusak for awhile. His house seems to be one of the only remaining ones focused on costly ingredients, infrequently releasing new fragrances in very small batches. There seems to be a few houses that operate in a similar manner - Slumberhouse and Areej Le Doré come to mind - but these have wider distribution that has led to a kind of intense, cult-like devotion (I have issues with this but I'll save that rant for another day). Rusak however, seems content to stay under the radar.

I tried a couple samples - they were the only ones available, I'm afraid. Both were not at all commercial yet still very wearable. Caji in particular is quite unique and not easily categorized.

Caji - The more challenging of the two, Caji is an orris-forward scent that is like no orris I've ever tried. Thankfully, it did not become harsh and candied on my skin which is always the risk I take with any iris scents - it walks toward that edge but it's never in any danger of tipping over it. The opening is a bluntly smooth and waxy orris veiled in a transparent jasmine. The indoles feel "trapped" in the orris butter and blends so completely, they seem to transform into a different, alien entity. As the fragrance unfolds, this indolic, animalic heat asserts itself, but it is never aggressive or dirty. Collectively, these notes blend together to create the impression of hay, not in any photorealistic barnyard sense, but one that is clean, warm and lived-in. There's a kind of play between the lower animal growl and the higher pitched orris that becomes more delicate as the scent develops. Perhaps this is why, despite the warmth of this scent, I find something very aloof about it. Not at all in the way that Serge Lutens' ice queen cold cream classic, Iris Silver Mist, is standoffish. It's distant in the way an extra terrestrial could be alive and organic and breathing right beside you.

Ochre - Ochre is easily the more accessible fragrance of the two as a moist, honeyed and pleasing tobacco. Don't get me wrong, it's not a cloying scent like so many tobaccos moving in this direction can be. In fact, at first, it's very damp with a bit of a cooling edge. However, the tobacco quickly moves to the fore and heats the whole thing up. Incredibly dense and rich but with texture and ample breathing space such that it never feels claustrophobic. Softens up and mellows beautifully into a lush dry down purring with ambergris and retaining the hint of a bristling feel, maybe the "rusted-tin" edge that Ochre's copy refers to. Warm and comfortable without being easy or predictably sweet.

You won't find these carried at any retailer and my impression is that Rusak is not particularly interested in widening his distribution which means shipping costs will be fairly prohibitive for those outside of the US. Still, I'd say the house is worth at least sampling. You won't be able to brag about scoring something ultra exclusive or use it as a way to flaunt your status, but you will probably smell something lovely or intriguing that you have never smelled before. Enjoy that when you can find it.