#Vestal Fire Department

[larryshapiro]

Vestal, NY - HME tower ladder and two HME engines

[littlethingwithfeathers]

Title: A Still Life with Skull and Medical Text Fandom: Darkest Dungeon Rating: Explicit  Pairing: Plague Doctor (Paracelsus)/ Flagellant (Damien) (with minor Vestal/Grave Robber for funsies) Tags: Blood, Medical procedures (particularly Medieval practices), self harm, flagellation, sex (though it’s weirdly vanilla given the circumstances). Check the link for more specific tags. It's finished! Woo! ***

Then, one night late into the fall, there was a knock at her door. The cold had settled in early that year, so Paracelsus found herself up tending the fire when she heard the commotion outside. When she opened the door she found a strangely familiar face peering out of the darkness at her. It was a young academician from the university… she recognized him but not from the medical department. He taught… history maybe? Divinity?

He looked like hell. Like he'd been shouldering the weight of exam season for a lifetime. Bags under his eyes. Hollows under his cheekbones. And yet… he'd graduated… hadn't he? He should be long gone by now…

"Yes?" she said, hiding from the barbs of the chilling wind behind the door.

"I'm… in trouble." he panted, chest heaving like a bellows. "And this man said you could help." He hefted another man into view. He was practically dragging him like a corpse, half-draped over one shoulder. ***

[manikax]

When: 1973 Where: Athens, Greece

They departed the metro at Monastiraki station at 7 P.M. The air was balmy but cooling, as though Helios had heeled his horse-drawn chariot, and Nyx was pulling Athens to her starry bosom. Alekos's face glistened with perspiration. Maja desired to lick it off. She was eager to get back to their apartment and shower; laze on the cool marble steps of the balcony and watch the sun set over the city they loved. Drink wine straight from the bottle and peel oranges for each other. 

Upon coming home, Maja threw open the French doors and looked out onto the brick streets and orange-roofed houses of Plaka. Oleander hung on the air. Alekos called her to shower, and they undressed one another in the slanted tangerine light slipping through the shutters. Before they could step under the water, Maja clung to his back which was broad and brown from the sun. She stood on her toes and nuzzled his taut deltoid with her nose. He smelled like summer and ash and salt. A bonfire on the beach. She tracked a finger down the ridges of his spine, counting them aloud in Greek. 

He laughed. “Are we going to shower or stand here all night?” 

The water went ice-cold not five minutes in, but this was deliriously funny to the both of them, and they laughed and laughed until their stomachs ached. After the shower, Maja dressed in Alekos’s boxers and a linen top that had been a birthday present from his mother. They were not mere garments to her - they were points of interrelation. They were a coveted connection to Alekos, her very heart, her sun. There was nothing Maja desired more than to be close to him. She relished every act of candor, each divulged secret or shared article of clothing that bound them together. It was the kindling she added to the sacred fire of their love, and she had sanctioned herself the lone Vestal Virgin tasked with keeping this hearth alive. 

Maja padded onto the balcony with a bowl of fruit from the kitchen. Her damp hair hung down her back. Perched on the step beneath him, she positioned herself between his legs and rested a cheek on his warm knee. She hummed the song she’d heard at the restaurant earlier that day, and was now playing on a loop in her head: Lilac Wine. Nina Simone. Alekos peeled an orange for them to share, managing to do so in one long, spiraling rind. She sucked the juice from his fingers. 

“Artemis, I’m happy,” Alekos said, using her nickname - the Goddess that had, in one way or another, brought them together. 

“Are you sure you’re not just horny?” 

He lovingly bopped her nose, as he did whenever she said something silly or contrarian. An act that was gentle and good-natured and to which she always responded by wiggling her nose like a bunny. He fed her the last orange slice. 

“No. I’m happy.” 

“Me too, αγάπη μου,” she said. “Me too.”

[drasadonbrown]

As a #firefighter, I have learned lessons that go well beyond textbooks or academic philosophies. #asadonbrown

[drtracybrown-blog]

Vestal Fire Department, Breakfast with Santa thank you

Lowes   State Farm   Tractor Supply  Red Lobster  Starbucks   Advanced Auto Parts    Chilis    Olive Gardens   Admar   Boy Scouts of America    Barnes and Noble    National Pipe & Plastics    Russell Farms   Walmart  Powersports   Dr. Asa Don Brown    Phil’s Chicken House   Harley Davidson   Game Stop   New Horizon Eyewear    Smile Labs  

[glitch-in-space]

Fear & Delight: a macdoc playlist

I’m trying to work on 3 different MacDoc fics at once whilst juggling a hellish amount of revision, so I thought I’d share my MacDoc playlist with y’all, since it’s began to haunt my dreams with the amount use it’s gotten.

I’ve split it into categories for an easier read, but ofc the songs can be interrupted however you want. It’s all below the cut (hopefully) so there’s no long posts to disturb anyone!

Uncategorised MacDoc Songs:

A-YO by Lady Gaga (Note: if they didn’t want people to ship MacDoc, why play this when they catch their first glimpse of each other?)

A Love Like War by All Time Low

Animal by Neon Trees

bad guy by Billie Eilish

Bad Romance by Halestorm

Believer by Imagine Dragons

Better Than Me by Hinder (Note: angsty, post-break up song)

Blind as a Bat by Meat Loaf

Bloodsport ‘15 by Raleigh Ritchie

Bloody Valentine by Machine Gun Kelly 

Bruises & Bitemarks by Good With Grenades 

Cannibal by Tally Hall

Carve a Name by Mother Mother

Centuries by Fall Out Boy

Dangerous by David Guetta, Sam Martin

Don’t Stop the Devil by Dead Posey

Enemy Fire by Bea Miller

Every You, Every Me by Placebo

Fear & Delight by The Correspondents

For Crying Out Loud by Meat Loaf

For The Departed by Shayfer James

Fortress Around Your Heart by Sting (Note: idk why but I personally prefer listening to the Tom Chick cover)

Game of Survival by Ruelle

Human by dodie, Tom Walker

Hungry Like the Wolf by Duran Duran (Note: the Glee cover also works if you prefer how it sounds)

I’d Do Anything for Love (But I Won’t Do That) by Meat Loaf (Note: the Bat Outta Hell Musical version also works)

I’m Free (Heaven Help the Man) by Kenny Loggins

I’m in Love With a Monster by Fifth Harmony

I Said Never Again (But Here We Are) by Rachel Stevens

Jason by BONNIE PARKER (Note: possible high school au?)

Killer by Plain White T’s (Note: possibly criminal au)

Little Monster by Royal Blood

Little Pistol by Mother Mother

Little Talks by Of Monsters and Men

My Boyfriend’s Back by The Angels (Note: theme for an epic scene of Murdoc rescuing Mac from captivity)

Never - from “Footloose” Soundtrack by Moving Pictures

Party in My Head by JAYDA

Pit of Vipers by Simon Curtis (Note: potentially unhealthy or vamp au)

Problems by Mother Mother (Note: the theme for my fic, No Place To Go)

Savin’ Me by Nickelback

Ship in a Bottle by fin

Skeleton Appreciation Day in Vestal, NY (Bones) by Will Wood and The Tapeworms

Social Climb by I DON’T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

Sweet Dreams (Are Made of These) by Marilyn Manson

The Devil You Know by I Fight Dragons

War of Hearts by Ruelle

We Can Take Our Time by Hayden Calnin

Where Does the Good Go by Tegan and Sara (Note: the cover by Alex Blue Davis also works)

Unhealthy & Borderline Unhealthy Relationship:

Addicted by Saving Abel

Animal by Sir Chloe

An Unhealthy Obsession by The Blake Robinson Synthetic Orchestra (Note: anyone else craving an au where they manage to both stalk each other?)

Better Than I Know Myself by Adam Lambert

Criminal by 3 One Oh

I Can’t Decide by Scissor Sisters

Irresistible by temposhark

Kiss With a Fist by Florence + The Machine

Like Lovers Do by Hey Violet

Little Red Riding Hood by Sam The Sham & The Pharaohs

Nemeses by Jonathan Coulton, John Roderick

Obsessed With You by The Orion Experience

Obsession by Animotion

Paparazzi by Kim Dracula (Note: this & the following 2 r all covers of the same song tho the lyrics to this 1 r slightly different)

Paparazzi by Holly Henry

Paparazzi by Sinxi

Rock Bottom by Hailee Steinfeld, DNCE

Skullcrusher Mountain by Jonathan Coulton

Stalker’s Tango by Autoheart

Starkiller by Bear Ghost

Sticks and Stones by The Pierces

Tear You Apart by She Wants Revenge

The Devil You Know by Kovacs

The Dismemberment Song by Blue Kid

This Is Love by Air Traffic Controller

This Means War by Marianas Trench

Under My Skin by Jukebox The Ghost

Criminal!mac AUs:

All About Us by t.A.T.u

Animal I Have Become by Three Days Grace (Note: works for dark!mac or murdoc)

Become the Beast (Predator Remix) by Karliene

Go Get Your Gun by The Dear Hunter

Hit and Run by LOLO (Note: wlw criminal au, anyone?) 

Partners in Crime by Set It Off, Ash Costello

Vampire AUs (depending on how literally you interpret the lyrics): 

Dracula by Bea Miller

Dracula by Mystic Prophecy (Note: not the same song as above) 

Dracula Teeth by The Last Shadow Puppets 

DRACULADS by Salem

[tilbageidanmark]

Movies I watched this week - 25

Was 1973 the greatest year in cinema?

Besides the ones below, 1973 was also the year of The Holy Mountain, Day for Night, Mean Streets, Badlands, La Planete Sauvage, Paper Moon, Scenes from a Marriage, Amarcord, Oh Lucky Man, American Graffiti, Enter the Dragon, The Sting, The Exorcist...

✳️✳️✳️ 1973: The Spirit Of The Beehive (El espíritu de la colmena) - one of the most beautiful Spanish films of all time.

It’s 1940, and six-year-old Anna lives with her family in an isolated Castilian village. A mobile cinema truck bring Frankenstein to the village.

Quiet, symbolic and deeply moving.

The trailer.

✳️✳️✳️ 1973: The Last Detail, written by Robert Towne, with Jack Nicholson at his peak and with cameos by Gilda Radner, Nancy Allen and Carol Kane. 9/10

“Welcome to the wonderful world of pussy, kid..”

Going to watch the few other Hal Ashby films again.

✳️✳️✳️ 1973: Critically-acclaimed Robert Altman’s anachronistic neo-noir The Long Goodbye, with chain smoking Elliott Gould as unconvincing and bumbling Philip Marlowe.

Also, Arnold Schwarzenegger’s first movie appearance.

✳️✳️✳️ 1973! I don’t know why I haven’t revisited Don’t Look Now for at least 15 years: I always considered it to be Nicolas Roeg’s best film, but it’s actually one of the greatest films I ever saw! Cinematically, emotionally, with extraordinary sound editing (The first 8 min.! The dressing / undressing scene!)..

With Renato Scarpa as the police inspector: ”AH! MIS-ter BAX-ter!”

Simply perfect!

✳️✳️✳️ 1973: In La Grande Bouffe four friends, Marcello, Ugo, Michel and Philippe (played by Marcello Mastroianni, Ugo Tognazzi, Michel Piccoli, Philippe Noiret) decide to binge-eat themselves to death on fine cuisine. A decadent and perverted food and sex orgy, full of excess and anarchy that doesn’t end until the last one shits himself to death. But why?

Bon appétit!

✳️✳️✳️ 1973: Honest cop and whistleblower Serpico fights obsessively against systemic corruption at the New York Police Department.

With Who’s Who of the time in small parts: Hank Garrett, ‘The Mailman’ from ‘Three days of the Condor’, Jack Kehoe, Midnight Run’s ‘Jerry’, James Tolkan as Steiger, M. Emmet Walsh, F. Murray Abraham, John Randolph, Allan Rich ...

✳️✳️✳️ 1973 / First watch - The Wicker Man, a British folk horror number about a Christian copper vs. a Scottish village of pagan heathens. With younger Christopher Lee in a hippie drag.

It had a unique way of combing folk songs, sung by the characters, nearly like a strange musical.

✳️✳️✳️ 1973: Westworld, the robots malfunction and revolt at a futuristic, adult-themed amusement park. Yul Brynner as the original Terminator. 3/10.

✴️                  

Queen of Hearts, a complex erotic drama by Danish-Egyptian director May el-Toukhy. An illicit affair between gorgeous Trine Dyrholm and her stepson Gustav Lindh (From Riders of Justice!). Shockingly explicit sex and unexpected third act reverse expectations and sympathies.

Best film of the week!

✴️            

Jackie Chan’s 1985 Police Story, a “broadly” choreographed slapstick / martial arts film. With young and chubby-faced Maggie Cheung, before she became world-class gorgeous.

✴️           

This isn't a rental car - it's privately owned.

How come I’ve never seen David Byrne’s True Stories before? Written by Ned Ryerson himself. Kooky characters in small town Vernon, TX. inspired by actual supermarket tabloid stories. Like Nashville for the 80′s..

✴️                

Crimes and Misdemeanors, a classic Woody Allen nihilist drama with a dual storyline that still holds its power.

“The eyes of God are always watching us” .

Toddler Dylan Farrow appears in a cameo at the wedding, and a distinct sub-plot has Allen wooing his teenage niece by taking her to see old movies and buying her art books... So, yuck to that part.

✴️              

“It’s good to be king.”

Mel Brooks’ 40 year old class-conscience History of the world, Part 1 - narrated by Orson Welles, with cameos by John Hurt as Jesus and Hugh Hefner, who also supplied the harem of vestal virgins. While ‘The Meaning of Life’ which came 2 years later was about philosophy, this was about history.

But everybody had such pearly white teeth.

✴️                     

I started watching Jojo Rabbit 3 times before I could finish this pretentious Holocaust comedy of revisionist Nazi-chic cuteness. A ten-year-old Hitler Youth boy finds out that his mother, Scarlett Johansson, is hiding a Jewish girl in their attic. Kitschy, cowardly and lazy. This is not ‘The Great Dictator’ or ‘The Producers’, or even ‘Look who’s back’. It’s Hitler 101 explained to 10 year olds who never heard of him.

I wonder how they got the rights to The Beatles and Bowie songs.

Also, Hitler was not a smoker. 2/10. (Photo above)

✴️                 

Picked up a random Apple’s TV series, Home before dark, about a 9 year old girl playing a journalist. I tried to get into it, and saw 2.5 episodes, but it was so ordinary, and soul-less, and full of teenager flick cliches, that I had to quit. Even the Jason Robards quotes from ‘All the President’s Men’ couldn’t help it. PASS!

✴️               

✳️✳️✳️ Woodward and Bernstein X 2

So, prompted by the series above, I watched All the President's Men again (for the 10? time). What a masterful film! Romancing investigative journalism never looked so good.

With a script by William Goldman, cinematography by Gordon Willis, and Robert Walden playing Donald Segretti.

The sparse score by Michael Small, who was Pakula’s go-to composer (and which I already mentioned here earlier)! Compared to his Parallax View theme.

True fact: Frank Wills, the black security guard who discovered the break-in, was fired without explanation a few days later. He was out of work for three years until he played himself (one day's work) in this film, and never had a full-time job again, until his death in 2000, at the age of 52.  

✳️✳️✳️ Also, All the President's Men Revisited, a 2012 documentary featuring all the players, and just before Trump, so they all could comfortably predict that Watergate will happen again, but none of them realized how terribly soon it will be.

✴️          

The company Men is about 3 senior executives trying to survive during the financial crisis of 2010 after getting fired, downsized, becoming redundant.

The Corporate-speak sounded fake, and Ben Affleck is not a good actor, so it wasn’t too engaging. 3/10

- - - - -

(My complete movie list is here)

[hello-robin-goodfellow]

FICTIONAL CHARACTER ASK: ROMEO MONTAGUE

TAGGED BY: @princesssarisa​

@ardenrosegarden​ @giuliettaluce​ @gravedangerahead​

Favorite thing about them: Oh my sweet boy, he is a sensitive poet that only wants to distance himself of violence and to share his love (for Juliet and for love itself) with the world.

Least favorite thing about them: That fact that when Tybalt kills Mercucio, he blames Juliet for “turning him affeminate” (weak) and decides to kill Tybalt in relation, believing this will prove that he is “man enough”. This obviously is the biggest mistake he ever commited.

Three things i have in common with them:

-His melancholy.

-I also can sometimes find dificult to communicate my true feelings to friends and relatives.

-I also love Juliet Capulet.

Three things i don’t have in common with them:

-Nobility status.

-Training to fight with a sword.

-I can’t improvise poetic dialogue the way he can. And i don’t have his french.

Favorite line:

“I fear, too early: for my mind misgives Some consequence yet hanging in the stars Shall bitterly begin his fearful date With this night's revels and expire the term Of a despised life closed in my breast By some vile forfeit of untimely death”.

 “What lady is that, which doth enrich the hand Of yonder knight?

O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear; Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows, As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand, And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand. Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night”.

“ If I profane with my unworthiest hand This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss”. 

“But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou her maid art far more fair than she: Be not her maid, since she is envious; Her vestal livery is but sick and green And none but fools do wear it; cast it off. It is my lady, O, it is my love! O, that she knew she were! She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that? Her eye discourses; I will answer it. I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks: Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return. What if her eyes were there, they in her head? The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven Would through the airy region stream so bright That birds would sing and think it were not night. See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand! O, that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek”!

 “She speaks: O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art As glorious to this night, being o'er my head As is a winged messenger of heaven Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds And sails upon the bosom of the air”.

“ Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this”?

 “Amen, amen! but come what sorrow can, It cannot countervail the exchange of joy That one short minute gives me in her sight: Do thou but close our hands with holy words, Then love-devouring death do what he dare; It is enough I may but call her mine”.

“Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy Be heap'd like mine and that thy skill be more To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue Unfold the imagined happiness that both Receive in either by this dear encounter”.

“This gentleman, the prince's near ally, My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt In my behalf; my reputation stain'd With Tybalt's slander,—Tybalt, that an hour Hath been my kinsman! O sweet Juliet, Thy beauty hath made me effeminate And in my temper soften'd valour's steel”!

“ This day's black fate on more days doth depend; This but begins the woe, others must end”.

“Alive, in triumph! and Mercutio slain! Away to heaven, respective lenity, And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now”!

“O, I am fortune's fool”!

“Thou canst not speak of that thou dost not feel: Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love, An hour but married, Tybalt murdered, Doting like me and like me banished, Then mightst thou speak, then mightst thou tear thy hair, And fall upon the ground, as I do now, Taking the measure of an unmade grave”.

“ It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east: Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops. I must be gone and live, or stay and die”.

“ Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death; I am content, so thou wilt have it so. I'll say yon grey is not the morning's eye, 'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow; Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat The vaulty heaven so high above our heads: I have more care to stay than will to go: Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so. How is't, my soul? let's talk; it is not day”.

 “Come hither, man. I see that thou art poor: Hold, there is forty ducats: let me have A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear As will disperse itself through all the veins That the life-weary taker may fall dead And that the trunk may be discharged of breath As violently as hasty powder fired Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb”.

“Art thou so bare and full of wretchedness, And fear'st to die? famine is in thy cheeks, Need and oppression starveth in thine eyes, Contempt and beggary hangs upon thy back; The world is not thy friend nor the world's law; The world affords no law to make thee rich; Then be not poor, but break it, and take this”.

“I pay thy poverty, and not thy will”.

“There is thy gold, worse poison to men's souls, Doing more murders in this loathsome world, Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell. I sell thee poison; thou hast sold me none. Farewell: buy food, and get thyself in flesh. Come, cordial and not poison, go with me To Juliet's grave; for there must I use thee”.

“How oft when men are at the point of death Have they been merry! which their keepers call A lightning before death: O, how may I Call this a lightning? O my love! my wife! Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath, Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty: Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet3040 Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, And death's pale flag is not advanced there. Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet? O, what more favour can I do to thee, Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain To sunder his that was thine enemy? Forgive me, cousin! Ah, dear Juliet, Why art thou yet so fair? shall I believe That unsubstantial death is amorous, And that the lean abhorred monster keeps Thee here in dark to be his paramour? For fear of that, I still will stay with thee; And never from this palace of dim night Depart again: here, here will I remain With worms that are thy chamber-maids; O, here Will I set up my everlasting rest, And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars From this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last! Arms, take your last embrace! and, lips, O you The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss A dateless bargain to engrossing death! Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide! Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark! Here's to my love”!

“O true apothecary! Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die”.    

brOTP: With Mercucio and Benvolio.

OTP: With Juliet.

nOTP: With Rosaline, Benvolio, Mercucio and Tybalt.

Random Headcanon:

-His favorite colors are: blue, green, white and silver.

-His favorite fairy tale is Rapunzel.

-His favorite greek myth is the love story of Orpheus and Euridice.

-In a Modern Day Everybody Lives AU i made in collab with @giuliettaluce​, he becomes an English Lit and Poetry professor. To know more about it, read it here:

https://giuliettaluce.tumblr.com/post/617050378210590720/modern-headcanon-romeo-and-juliet

Unpopular Opinion: Yes, Leonard Whiting is a good actor and he was a very good casting choice for the role of Romeo in the 1968 movie. But the cuts of many of his lines, like the one where he thinks that killing Tybalt as a regaining of honor and his dialogue with the apotecary, tones the characters actual complexity and intelligence way, way down, and is the cause of the popular misconception that Romeo is an impulsive bratty teenager.

Song i associate with them: 

Flor, Minha Flor (Grupo Galpão), wich is the theme of Grupo Galpão’s montage of Romeo and Juliet: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=koIO15cI-8Y

Favorite picture of them:

Sir Ian Holm, 1967

Dolhai Attila, 2001

Adetomiwa Edun, 2010 

Eduardo Moreira, 2012/13

Lucien Laviscount in the Still Star-Crossed series, 2017

[mindzk-blog]

Romeo + Juliet

Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel,-- Will they not hear? What, ho! you men, you beasts, That quench the fire of your pernicious rage With purple fountains issuing from your veins, On pain of torture, from those bloody hands Throw your mistemper'd weapons to the ground, And hear the sentence of your moved prince. Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word, By thee, old Capulet, and Montague, Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets, And made Verona's ancient citizens Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments, To wield old partisans, in hands as old, Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate: If ever you disturb our streets again, Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace. For this time, all the rest depart away: You Capulet; shall go along with me: And, Montague, come you this afternoon, To know our further pleasure in this case, To old Free-town, our common judgment-place. Once more, on pain of death, all men depart.

-Prince of Verona

Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still, Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will! Here's much to do with hate, but more with love. Why, then, O brawling love! O loving hate! O any thing, of nothing first create! O heavy lightness! serious vanity! Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms! Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health! Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is! This love feel I, that feel no love in this. Dost thou not laugh? 

- To Rosaline

Why, such is love's transgression. Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast, Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest With more of thine: this love that thou hast shown Doth add more grief to too much of mine own. Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs; Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; Being vex'd a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears: What is it else? a madness most discreet, A choking gall and a preserving sweet.

I fear, too early: for my mind misgives Some consequence yet hanging in the stars Shall bitterly begin his fearful date With this night's revels and expire the term Of a despised life closed in my breast By some vile forfeit of untimely death. But He, that hath the steerage of my course, Direct my sail! On, lusty gentlemen.

-Romeo

O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear; Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows, As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand, And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand. Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.

-Romeo

“My only love sprung from my only hate!“ - Juliet

It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou her maid art far more fair than she: Be not her maid, since she is envious; Her vestal livery is but sick and green And none but fools do wear it; cast it off. It is my lady, O, it is my love! O, that she knew she were! She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that? Her eye discourses; I will answer it. I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks: Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do entreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return. What if her eyes were there, they in her head? The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven Would through the airy region stream so bright That birds would sing and think it were not night. See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand! O, that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek!

-Romeo

oh yeah got married.. but shhhh

Dreamers often lie.. - Mercutio

Help me into some house, Benvolio, Or I shall faint. A plague o' both your houses! They have made worms' meat of me: I have it, And soundly too: your houses!

-Mercutio

RIP dear Mercutio

[larryshapiro]

Vestal FD Tower 4

[libidomechanica]

Untitled (“Thread”)

Thread Heave his magazines to frightened  fields were causing  but she loved him. with 

ebon-tipped flutes: close with  feet of beauty tempting  hearth: the vigorous joys in 

the might hear the drains, and  grieve, till it back to  you will, the mind so 

he would have been travel in  a country far remote  and strike: I will please thee: 

the threshold? She had lost her  to the sky;  for let me powre my sire charms. 

All nature, a spire of a  brook,—whose soul-soothing melody  of a softer clime, 

half-conscious of the lonely:  where to and  free of spears and riders front doth 

go, how loud this will say tis no  penance needs, and marvelled,  lo! When you departed, 

you went on cutting bread  on cloudiness, unshaded,  her pearl the weak lords neighbours 

ear; and then, but these the  woods, as we once it  was never been 

my holy care. God, even after thanked  him. And wilt thou leave  ere long orisons forbids; yet 

still as solemn tone: but who, like a  deceived as one bespeaks  poor hygienic measureless song, 

glad I did shoue, brake bowe, brake shaft, and  serpent-throated bugle,  and think of the mellay, 

lord of her wrongs; I say she died.  One sigh did heave the  eyes of busy fools may be 

ready to slander about  the lost a gesture  and her little tunes, you tell 

me what Meg o the Mill was  before  her fast. at the stock might market 

with many a  less a child Then rode  we to my being no less could 

not leaves chatter Or, it may hap   of one bridge. Hold like  a well, whence to her 

garden of spring, and grieve,  Deare Heart, and paces measured  from high to low should stir 

her she left the same look wistfully,  there wasted  in a cold bare wide Common I 

had not stayed that is not enuie Aristotless  asphodel, looks  backward, I could do was let 

him kindly warmd; and well-a- day, were too slow; with  fervent love Securely rest: she 

walked with blue plums. fright your weak  senses to everything  blooms. And by that sleeps too late 

i have too many that bless among  the trampling they brought  her hands. Leave me there other face, 

the highways slide into  memorial left.  Partly because 

no fence or fort that hangs that  he for me! He built  a life to the very 

essences for a wind  wailing the stars  bedding tears. All I breath, spoke nor moved. 

An ken ye what Meg o the  force of repulse,  that happy pens where works by Virtues 

image in the  prest and generous leaf  and did me much wrong, and suit 

thy pity like in every  eastern cloud of poison  from thy deeds, a future cordial 

for the buzzing of  her immortal mesh  and love me! Grows lush in juicy 

stalks set like vestal primrose too, what  herself, that sleep is  pure. and blythe that poor weakness, nor 

thou, thou bitterly. With her  returning  fire, And winds seem dreaming. 

[drasadonbrown]

[blackphoenixalchemylab]

The Weenies Are In!

Halloween starts early at the lab, and we’re excited to present the Halloween 2017 update! It’s here! The cornerstone of this year's collection is a spirited tribute to Edgar Allan Poe's "The Tell-Tale Heart," featuring numerous heart-stopping illustrations by Drew Rausch (as previewed above).

But wait! There are more collections within the Collection:  Pile of Leaves, Pumpkin Spice Whatever (It will never die!), Samhainophobia (be very afraid), and, of course, the season’s stirring Single Notes.

The 2017 Weenies, all limited editions, are all ready and waiting for you online. If you’d like to catch a whiff of the whole set—and a whole lot more—come smell us at New York Comic Con, October 5 through 8. Or send your fairy to Comic Con on a Weenie-gathering mission. 

NOW, HERE’S EVERYTHING!

ALL SOULS

A day of remembrance and intercession. Without the prayers and sacrifices of their families and loved ones, the faithful departed may not be cleansed of their venal sins, and thereby cannot attain beatific vision. On November 2nd, prayers are sung and offerings are made to aid lost souls in transcending purgatory. An incense blend that invokes the higher qualities of mercy and compassion, mingled with the soft, sugared currant scent of offertory soul cakes.

THE APPARITION

When by thy scorne, O murdresse, I am dead,And that thou thinkst thee freeFrom all solicitation from mee,Then shall my ghost come to thy bed,And thee, fain'd vestall, in worse armes shall see;Then thy sicke taper will begin to winke,And he,whose thou art then, being tyr'd before,Will, if thou stirre, or pinch to wake him, thinkeThou call'st for more,And in false sleepe will from thee shrinke,And then poore Aspen wretch, neglected thouBath'd in a cold quicksilver swear wilt lyeA veryer ghost than I;What I will say, I will not tell thee now,Lest that preserve thee; and since my love is spent,I'had rather thou shouldst painfully repent,Than by my threatenings rest still innocent.

Quicksilver-cold and heartless: white sandalwood, immortelle, zdravetz, and oudh.

APPLE BUTTER RUM

Spiced rum with cinnamon, apple butter, nutmeg, and thick vanilla cream.

CARDAMOM CREAM PUMPKIN CAKE

Thick lumps of pumpkin cake with cardamom-cream frosting and a dusting of cinnamon.

CHOCOLATE BLOOD

A sideways ode to Hitchcock’s Psycho, by way of Bosco Chocolate Syrup.

CINNAMON CHAI CUPCAKE

A cozy accompaniment on chilly autumn nights.

DAY OF THE SKULLS

In Bolivia, many people hold to the tradition of keeping the skulls of their ancestors with them in their homes, caring for their remains. It is believed that each person has seven souls, and one of those souls stays with the skull after death, enabling a spirit to grant protection and prophetic dreams to their descendants, and to bless their families with good health and prosperity.

The Bolivian Fiesta de las Natitas, or Dia de los Natitas, is a day of honor for these ancestors. Their skulls are dressed with fragrant blossoms, and offerings of cocoa leaves, alcohol, and cigarettes are made.

White sandalwood, beeswax, and frankincense crowned by hydrangea, rose, and kantuta blossoms, dressed with tobacco, cocoa leaves and flowers from the sacred Cactus of the Four Winds.

DIRGE

We do lie beneath the grass In the moonlight, in the shade  Of the yew-tree. They that pass Hear us not. We are afraid   They would envy our delight,   In our graves by glow-worm night. Come follow us, and smile as we; We sail to the rock in the ancient waves, Where the snow falls by thousands into the sea, And the drown’d and the shipwreck’d have happy graves.- Thomas Lovell Beddoes

Yew berries and cypress boughs, ropes of kelp and sea spray.

FEEDING THE DEAD

A barrel of beer, a pyramid of cakes, and three sticks of incense.

HALLOW-E’EN, 1914

"Why do you wait at your door, woman,Alone in the night?”“I am waiting for one who will come, stranger,To show him a light.He will see me afar on the roadAnd be glad at the sight.” “Have you no fear in your heart, woman,To stand there alone?There is comfort for you and kindly contentBeside the hearthstone.”But she answered, “No rest can I haveTill I welcome my own.”“Is it far he must travel to-night,This man of your heart?”“Strange lands that I know not and pitiless seasHave kept us apart,And he travels this night to his homeWithout guide, without chart.” “And has he companions to cheer him?”“Aye, many,” she said.“The candles are lighted, the hearthstones are swept,The fires glow red.We shall welcome them out of the night—Our home-coming dead.”- Winifred M. Letts

A welcome for the home-coming dead: an incense of dried ivy and maple leaf with honeyed fig, black cypress, and grave dirt.

HAUNTED SEAS

A gleaming glassy ocean  Under a sky of grey;A tide that dreams of motion,  Or moves, as the dead may;A bird that dips and wavers  Over lone waters round,Then with a cry that quavers  Is gone—a spectral sound. The brown sad sea-weed drifting  Far from the land, and lost;The faint warm fog unlifting,  The derelict long tossed,But now at rest—though haunted  By the death-scenting shark,Whose prey no more undaunted  Slips from it, spent and stark.

- Cale Young Rice

Seaspray and flecks of foam welling with opoponax and labdanum’s sepulchral moans.

IN A WHISPERING GALLERY

That whisper takes the voiceOf a Spirit, speaking to me,Close, but invisible,And throws me under a spellAt the kindling vision it brings;And for a moment I rejoice,And believe in transcendent thingsThat would make of this muddy earthA spot for the splendid birthOf everlasting lives,Whereto no night arrives;And this gaunt gray galleryA tabernacle of worthOn this drab-aired afternoon,When you can barely seeAcross its hazed lacuneIf opposite aught there beOf fleshed humanityWherewith I may commune;Or if the voice so nearBe a soul’s voice floating here.- Thomas Hardy

Marbled white iris, white tobacco flower, Italian bergamot, white leather, and Mysore sandalwood.

LA CALAVERA CATRINA

The Lady of the Graveyard! Autumn leaves, wild roses, bourbon vanilla, dry chamomile, and a bouquet of bright chrysanthemums and Mexican marigolds.

OCTOBER

Ay, thou art welcome, heaven's delicious breath!

When woods begin to wear the crimson leaf,

And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief

And the year smiles as it draws near its death.

Wind of the sunny south! oh, still delay

In the gay woods and in the golden air,

Like to a good old age released from care,

Journeying, in long serenity, away.

In such a bright, late quiet, would that I

Might wear out life like thee, 'mid bowers and brooks

And dearer yet, the sunshine of kind looks,

And music of kind voices ever nigh;

And when my last sand twinkled in the glass,

Pass silently from men, as thou dost pass.

Dry, cold autumn wind. A rustle of red leaves, a touch of smoke and sap in the air.

PUMPKIN BROWNIES

Swirled with caramel and topped with sour cream frosting.

PUMPKIN CHYPRE

A gleaming auburn chypre shot through with streaks of pumpkin.

PUMPKIN SUGAR 2017

Crystallized glittering shards of lightly spiced pumpkin sugar.

SAMHAIN 2017

Truly the scent of autumn itself -- damp woods, fir needle, and black patchouli with the gentlest touches of warm pumpkin, clove, nutmeg, allspice, sweet red apple and mullein.

SEPTEMBER MIDNIGHT 2017

Lyric night of the lingering Indian Summer,

Shadowy fields that are scentless but full of singing,

Never a bird, but the passionless chant of insects,

Ceaseless, insistent.

The grasshopper's horn, and far-off, high in the maples,

The wheel of a locust leisurely grinding the silence

Under a moon waning and worn, broken,

Tired with summer.

Let me remember you, voices of little insects,

Weeds in the moonlight, fields that are tangled with asters,

Let me remember, soon will the winter be on us,

Snow-hushed and heavy.

Over my soul murmur your mute benediction,

While I gaze, O fields that rest after harvest,

As those who part look long in the eyes they lean to,

Lest they forget them.

- Sara Teasdale

A myrrh-darkened amber chypre sweetened by newly-ripened black pomegranate.

SUGAR SKULL 2017

Vibrant with the joy and sweetness of life in death! A blend of five sugars, lightly dusted with candied fruits.

THE WITCH BRIDE 2017

A fair witch crept to a young man's side,

And he kiss'd her and took her for his bride.

But a Shape came in at the dead of night,

And fill'd the room with snowy light.

And he saw how in his arms there lay

A thing more frightful than mouth may say.

And he rose in haste, and follow'd the Shape

Till morning crown'd an eastern cape.

And he girded himself, and follow'd still

When sunset sainted the western hill.

But, mocking and thwarting, clung to his side,

Weary day!-the foul Witch-Bride.

(Aw, c'mon, Allingham. Foul is a pretty strong choice of words, dontcha think?)

Pale and lovely, with eyes belladonna-wide: hemlock blossoms and ghostly nightshade veiled by wisteria, white frankincense, black amber, and narcissus resin.

++ HALLOWEEN 2017: PILE OF LEAVES

Every leaf tells a story.

DEAD LEAVES AND SQUISHED CANDY CORN

DEAD LEAVES, HEMP, MOSSY SOIL, FRANKINCENSE AND OUDH

DEAD LEAVES, TUSCAN LEATHER, WHITE AMBER, AND MIMOSA BLOSSOM

DEAD LEAVES, PINEAPPLE, PATCHOULI, AND VETIVER

DEAD LEAVES, LEMON VERBENA, AND CEDAR

DEAD LEAVES, BOURBON, BLACK CHERRY, AND AN ORANGE TWIST

DEAD LEAVES, BLACK PLUM, BITTER CLOVE, AND OUDH

DEAD LEAVES AND PINK PEPPERCORN

DEAD LEAVES, VIOLET CANDY, AND SUGAR CRYSTALS

DEAD LEAVES, COCONUT, AND CHAMPACA BLOSSOM

++ HALLOWEEN 2017: SINGLE NOTES

Black Phoenix’s cheeky interpretation of the iconic scents of the season. No actual single notes—or hags—were harmed during the creation of these blends.

BLOOD SQUIB

BOBBING FOR APPLES

GRAVEYARD DIRT

PAPIÉR-MÂCHE GHOST

PLASTIC PUMPKIN CANDY TUB

PUMPKIN SPICE EVERYTHING

UNSETTLING CLEAR PLASTIC MASK

++ HALLOWEEN 2017: PUMPKIN SPICE WHATEVER

We’re going to keep jumpin’ that pumpkin spice shark until there’s no pumpkins left to spice. Prime motivation: this is hella funny. Illustration by Drew Rausch!

PUMPKIN SPICE CATHEDRAL

Pumpkin spiced incense smoke!

PUMPKIN SPICE OPIUM POPPY

Pumpkin spiced euphoria!

PUMPKIN SPICE EMBALMING FLUID

Pumpkin spice that funeral home!

PUMPKIN SPICE SNAKE OIL

Pumpkin spice them carnies!

PUMPKIN SPICE SHOGGOTH

Bursting bubbles of self-luminous pumpkin spice!

PUMPKIN SPICE PERVERSION

You dirty bird.

PUMPKIN SPICE HARLOT

Pumpkin spice that brothel!

++ HALLOWEEN 2017: SAMHAINOPHOBIA

A celebration of the terrors of the season.

CHIROPTOPHOBIA

Fear of Bats

A flutter of leather becomes a swarm of buffeting musks, tangled with a white flash of sandalwood and near-inaudible shrieks of eucalyptus and elemi.

COIMETROPHOBIA

Fear of Cemeteries

Upturned earth, moss-damp and thick with creeping things. A shard of mahogany from a broken casket. Creaking marble doors pushing open under moonlit skies.

HEMOPHOBIA

Fear of Blood

Crimson splatter, pulsating with blackened vetiver.

NEBULAPHOBIA

Fear of Fog

Sinuous, suffocating tendrils of grey ambergris, white frankincense, and cade.

SAMHAINOPHOBIA

Fear of Halloween

Menacing vetiver, patchouli, and clove with a shock of bourbon geranium, grim oakmoss, and dread-inspiring balsams pierce the innocuous scent of autumn leaves.

++ THE TELL-TALE HEART

Story by Edgar Allan Poe, art by Drew Rausch, scents by Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab.

I HEARD MANY THINGS IN HELL

The disease had sharpened my senses -- not destroyed -- not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily -- how calmly I can tell you the whole story.

Hearken and observe: black iris, French lavender, Roman chamomile, and frankincense.

THE EYE OF A VULTURE

It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. Object there was none. Passion there was none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his eye! yes, it was this! He had the eye of a vulture -- a pale blue eye, with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so by degrees -- very gradually -- I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye forever.

Milky white fluid obfuscating a pale, lilac-blue iris.

YOU FANCY ME MAD

Now this is the point. You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded -- with what caution -- with what foresight -- with what dissimulation I went to work! I was never kinder to the old man than during the whole week before I killed him.

Percolating with derangement: flashing spikes of orange blossom, neroli, lemon, and bitter clove in a bubbling mass of opoponax, patchouli, and thick, black vetiver.

GROAN OF MORTAL TERROR

Presently I heard a slight groan, and I knew it was the groan of mortal terror. It was not a groan of pain or of grief -- oh, no! -- it was the low stifled sound that arises from the bottom of the soul when overcharged with awe. I knew the sound well. Many a night, just at midnight, when all the world slept, it has welled up from my own bosom, deepening, with its dreadful echo, the terrors that distracted me. I say I knew it well.

Opaque grey amber and opoponax swelling up like thick smoke, pressed under the weight of baleful tobacco.

THE MOURNFUL INFLUENCE OF THE UNPERCEIVED SHADOW

I knew what the old man felt, and pitied him, although I chuckled at heart. I knew that he had been lying awake ever since the first slight noise, when he had turned in the bed. His fears had been ever since growing upon him. He had been trying to fancy them causeless, but could not. He had been saying to himself -- "It is nothing but the wind in the chimney -- it is only a mouse crossing the floor," or "It is merely a cricket which has made a single chirp." Yes, he had been trying to comfort himself with these suppositions: but he had found all in vain. All in vain; because Death, in approaching him had stalked with his black shadow before him, and enveloped the victim. And it was the mournful influence of the unperceived shadow that caused him to feel -- although he neither saw nor heard -- to feel the presence of my head within the room.

Unutterable dread: thick black patchouli, shadow musk, myrrh, and threads of hot saffron mired in sweet, viscous labdanum.

And now at the dead hour of the night, amid the dreadful silence of that old house, so strange a noise as this excited me to uncontrollable terror.

THE DEAD HOUR OF THE NIGHT

Mist-shrouded pine and moonflower creeping over flaccid opium poppies.

THE DREADFUL SILENCE OF THAT OLD HOUSE

Polished mahogany blanketed by myrrh.

STEALTHILY, STEALTHILY

When I had waited a long time, very patiently, without hearing him lie down, I resolved to open a little -- a very, very little crevice in the lantern. So I opened it -- you cannot imagine how stealthily, stealthily -- until, at length a simple dim ray, like the thread of the spider, shot from out the crevice and fell full upon the vulture eye.

It was open -- wide, wide open -- and I grew furious as I gazed upon it. I saw it with perfect distinctness -- all a dull blue, with a hideous veil over it that chilled the very marrow in my bones; but I could see nothing else of the old man's face or person: for I had directed the ray as if by instinct, precisely upon the damned spot.

A dim ray upon the vulture eye: smoked violets and bulbous orris, threads of crumbling lavender, and wet iris butter.

OVER-ACUTENESS OF THE SENSE

And have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but over-acuteness of the sense? -- now, I say, there came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound, such as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I knew that sound well, too. It was the beating of the old man's heart. It increased my fury, as the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage.

Hyper-aware, swirling with delusions: orange blossom, lemon balm, and clove.

THE HELLISH TATTOO OF THE HEART

But even yet I refrained and kept still. I scarcely breathed. I held the lantern motionless. I tried how steadily I could maintain the ray upon the eve. Meantime the hellish tattoo of the heart increased. It grew quicker and quicker, and louder and louder every instant. The old man's terror must have been extreme! It grew louder, I say, louder every moment! -- do you mark me well I have told you that I am nervous: so I am.

Blood musk and pulsating black pepper, a throb of bitter almond, and cracked pimento.

SUSPICION OF FOUL PLAY

If still you think me mad, you will think so no longer when I describe the wise precautions I took for the concealment of the body. The night waned, and I worked hastily, but in silence. First of all I dismembered the corpse. I cut off the head and the arms and the legs.

I then took up three planks from the flooring of the chamber, and deposited all between the scantlings. I then replaced the boards so cleverly, so cunningly, that no human eye -- not even his -- could have detected any thing wrong. There was nothing to wash out -- no stain of any kind -- no blood-spot whatever. I had been too wary for that. A tub had caught all -- ha! ha!

When I had made an end of these labors, it was four o'clock -- still dark as midnight. As the bell sounded the hour, there came a knocking at the street door. I went down to open it with a light heart, -- for what had I now to fear? There entered three men, who introduced themselves, with perfect suavity, as officers of the police. A shriek had been heard by a neighbour during the night; suspicion of foul play had been aroused; information had been lodged at the police office, and they (the officers) had been deputed to search the premises.

Clean wood floors, a clean tub, clean, clean, clean, with no stain of any kind, no blood-spot whatsoever.

THE WILD AUDACITY OF MY PERFECT TRIUMPH

I smiled, -- for what had I to fear? I bade the gentlemen welcome. The shriek, I said, was my own in a dream. The old man, I mentioned, was absent in the country. I took my visitors all over the house. I bade them search -- search well. I led them, at length, to his chamber. I showed them his treasures, secure, undisturbed. In the enthusiasm of my confidence, I brought chairs into the room, and desired them here to rest from their fatigues, while I myself, in the wild audacity of my perfect triumph, placed my own seat upon the very spot beneath which reposed the corpse of the victim.

A jubilant and deranged lime absinthe.

SINGULARLY AT EASE

The officers were satisfied. My manner had convinced them. I was singularly at ease. They sat, and while I answered cheerily, they chatted of familiar things. But, ere long, I felt myself getting pale and wished them gone. My head ached, and I fancied a ringing in my ears: but still they sat and still chatted.

Rum cakes and black tea, blueberry scones and biscuits.

VIOLENT GESTICULATIONS

No doubt I now grew very pale; -- but I talked more fluently, and with a heightened voice. Yet the sound increased -- and what could I do? It was a low, dull, quick sound -- much such a sound as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I gasped for breath --and yet the officers heard it not. I talked more quickly -- more vehemently; but the noise steadily increased. I arose and argued about trifles, in a high key and with violent gesticulations; but the noise steadily increased. Why would they not be gone?

An erratic pomegranate mint, high-pitched and flailing with eucalyptus, above a throbbing core of black musk.

[artemisdreaming]

Vestal Virgins 

Raffaele Monti  (1818–1881)

From Wiki:  “In ancient Rome, the Vestals or Vestal Virgins (Latin: Vestālēs, singular Vestālis [wɛsˈtaː.lɪs]) were priestesses of Vesta, goddess of the hearth. The College of the Vestals and its well-being were regarded as fundamental to the continuance and security of Rome. They cultivated the sacred fire that was not allowed to go out. The Vestals were freed of the usual social obligations to marry and bear children, and took a vow of chastity in order to devote themselves to the study and correct observance of state rituals that were off-limits to the male colleges of priests.

Selection

To obtain entry into the order, a girl had to be free of physical and mental defects, have two living parents and be a daughter of a free-born resident of Rome. From at least the mid-Republican era, the pontifex maximus chose Vestals between their sixth and tenth year, by lot from a group of twenty high-born candidates at a gathering of their families and other Roman citizens. Originally, the girl had to be of patrician birth, but membership was opened to plebeians as it became difficult to find patricians willing to commit their daughters to 30 years as a Vestal, and then ultimately even from the daughters of freedmen for the same reason.

The choosing ceremony was known as a captio (capture). Once a girl was chosen to be a Vestal, the pontifex pointed to her and led her away from her parents with the words, "I take you, Amata, to be a Vestal priestess, who will carry out sacred rites which it is the law for a Vestal priestess to perform on behalf of the Roman people, on the same terms as her who was a Vestal 'on the best terms'" (thus, with all the entitlements of a Vestal). As soon as she entered the atrium of Vesta's temple, she was under the goddess's service and protection....

Tasks

House of the Vestals and Temple of Vesta from the Palatine

Their tasks included the maintenance of the fire sacred to Vesta, the goddess of the hearth and home, collecting water from a sacred spring, preparation of food used in rituals and caring for sacred objects in the temple's sanctuary.  By maintaining Vesta's sacred fire, from which anyone could receive fire for household use, they functioned as "surrogate housekeepers", in a religious sense, for all of Rome. Their sacred fire was treated, in Imperial times, as the emperor's household fire.

The Vestals were put in charge of keeping safe the wills and testaments of various people such as Caesar and Mark Antony. In addition, the Vestals also guarded some sacred objects, including the Palladium, and made a special kind of flour called mola salsa which was sprinkled on all public offerings to a god.

Privileges

The dignities accorded to the Vestals were significant.

in an era when religion was rich in pageantry, the presence of the College of Vestal Virgins was required in numerous public ceremonies and wherever they went, they were transported in a carpentum, a covered two-wheeled carriage, preceded by a lictor, and had the right-of-way;

at public games and performances they had a reserved place of honour;

unlike most Roman women, they were not subject to the patria potestas and so were free to own property, make a will, and vote;

they gave evidence without the customary oath, their word being trusted without question;

they were, on account of their incorruptible character, entrusted with important wills and state documents, like public treaties;

their person was sacrosanct: death was the penalty for injuring their person and they had escorts to protect them from assault;

they could free condemned prisoners and slaves by touching them – if a person who was sentenced to death saw a Vestal on his way to the execution, he was automatically pardoned.

they participated in throwing the ritual straw figures called Argei into the Tiber on May 15.

Punishment

Allowing the sacred fire of Vesta to die out was a serious dereliction of duty. It suggested that the goddess had withdrawn her protection from the city. Vestals guilty of this offense were punished by a scourging or beating, which was carried out "in the dark and through a curtain to preserve their modesty"

The chastity of the Vestals was considered to have a direct bearing on the health of the Roman state. When they entered the collegium, they left behind the authority of their fathers and became daughters of the state. Any sexual relationship with a citizen was therefore considered to be incestum and an act of treason. The punishment for violating the oath of celibacy was to be buried alive in the Campus Sceleratus or "Evil Field" (an underground chamber near the Colline Gate) with a few days of food and water. Ancient tradition required that an unchaste Vestal be buried alive within the city, that being the only way to kill her without spilling her blood, which was forbidden. However, this practice contradicted the Roman law that no person might be buried within the city. To solve this problem, the Romans buried the offending priestess with a nominal quantity of food and other provisions, not to prolong her punishment, but so that the Vestal would not technically be buried in the city, but instead descend into a "habitable room". Moreover, she would die willingly.[citation needed] The actual manner of the procession to Campus Scleretatus has been described like this:

When condemned by the college of pontifices, she was stripped of her vittae and other badges of office, was scourged, was attired like a corpse, placed in a close litter, and borne through the forum attended by her weeping kindred, with all the ceremonies of a real funeral, to a rising ground called the Campus Sceleratus just within the city walls, close to the Colline gate. There a small vault underground had been previously prepared, containing a couch, a lamp, and a table with a little food. The pontifex maximus, having lifted up his hands to heaven and uttered a secret prayer, opened the litter, led forth the culprit, and placing her on the steps of the ladder which gave access to the subterranean cell, delivered her over to the common executioner and his assistants, who conducted her down, drew up the ladder, and having filled the pit with earth until the surface was level with the surrounding ground, left her to perish deprived of all the tributes of respect usually paid to the spirits of the departed....” via: wikipedia

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[fpbinghamton]

The latest local news: Power outage in Vestal shopping plaza VESTAL (WBNG) — NYSEG and Vestal Fire Department were on the scene of a plaza on Monday afternoon responding to an outage. Broome County Dispatch says a supply line issue caused a power outage at the plaza, located at 100 Vestal Parkway West.

[stjames-infirmary]

To Mary - - 1.  So now my summer task is ended, Mary, and I return to thee, mine own heart's home; as to his Queen some victor Knight of Faëry, earning bright spoils for her enchanted dome; nor thou disdain, that ere my fame become a star among the stars of mortal night, if it indeed may cleave its natal gloom, its doubtful promise thus I would unite with thy beloved name, thou Child of love and light. 2. The toil high stole from thee so many an hour is ended, - and the fruit is at thy feet! No longer where the woods frame a bower with interlaced branches mix and meet, or where with sound like many voices seen, water-falls leap among wild islands green, which framed for my lone boat a lone retreat of moss-grown trees and weeds, shall I be seen: but beside thee, where still my heart has ever been. 3. Thoughts of great deeds were mine, dear Friend, when first the clouds which wrap this world from youth did pass. I do remember well the hour which burst my spirit's sleep: a fresh May-dawn it was, when I walked forth upon the glittering grass, and wept, I knew not why; until there rose from the near school-room, voices, that, alas! Were but one echo form a world of woes -  the harsh and grating strife of tyrants and of foes. 4.  And then I clasped my hands and looked around - - But none was near to mock my streaming eyes, which poured their warm drops on the sunny ground -  so without shame, I spake: - 'I will be wise, and just, and free, and mild, if in me lies such power, for I grow weary to behold the selfish and the strong still tyrannise without reproach or check." I then controlled my tears, my heart grew calm, and I was meek and bold. 5.  And from that hour did I with earnest thought heap knowledge from forbidden mines of lore, yet nothing that my tyrants knew or taught I cared to learn, but from that secret store wrought linked armour for my soul, before it might walk forth to war among mankind; thus power and hope were strengthened more and more within me, till there came upon my mind a sense of loneliness, a thirst with which I pined. 6. Alas, that love should be a blight and snare to those who seek all sympathies in one! -  Such once I sought in vain; then black despair, the shadow of a starless night, was thrown over the world in which I moved alone: -  yet never found I one not false to me, hard hearts, and cold, like weights of icy stone which crushed and withered mine, that could not be aught but a lifeless clog, until revived by thee. 7. Thou Friend, whose presence on my wintry heart fell, like bright Spring upon some herbless plain; how beautiful and calm and free thou wert in the young wisdom, when the mortal chain of Custom thou didst burst and rend in twain, and walked as free as light the clouds among,  which many an envious slave then breathed in vain from his dim dungeon, and my spirit sprung to meet thee from the woes which had begirt it long. 8.  No more alone through the world's wilderness, although I trod the paths of high intent, I journeyed now: no more companionless, where solitude is like despair, I went. -  There is the wisdom of a stern content when Poverty can blight the just and good, when Infamy dares mock the innocent, and cherished friends turn with the multitude to trample: this was ours, and we unshaken stood! 9. Now has descended a serener hour, and with inconstant fortune, friends return;  though suffering leaves the knowledge and the power which says: - Let scorn be not repaid with scorn. And from thy side two gentle babes are born to fill our home with smiles, and thus are we most fortunate beneath life's beaming morn;  and these delights, and thou, have been to me the parents of the Song I consecrate to thee. 10. Is it, that now my inexperienced fingers but strike the prelude of a loftier strain? Or, must the lyre on which my spirit lingers soon pause in silence, ne'er to sound again, though it might shake the Anarch Custom's reign, and charm the minds of men to Truth's own sway holier than was Amphion's? I would fain reply in hope - but I am worn away, and Death and Love are yet contending for their prey. 11. And what art thou? I know, but dare not speak: time may interpret to his silent years. Yet in the paleness of thy thoughtful cheek, and in the light thine ample forehead wears, and in thy sweetest smiles, and in thy tears, and in thy gentle speech, a prophecy is whispered, to subdue my fondest fears: and through thine eyes, even in thy soul I see a lamp of vestal fire burning internally. 12. They say that thou wert lovely from thy birth, of glorious parents, thou aspiring Child. I wonder not - for One then left this earth whose life was like a setting planet mild which clothed thee in the radiance undefiled of its departing glory: still her fame shines on thee, through the tempests dark and wild which shake these latter days; and thou canst claim the shelter, from thy Sire, of an immortal name. 13. One voice came forth from many a mighty spirit, which was the echo of three thousand years; and the tumultuous world stood mute to hear it, as some lone man who in a desert hears the music of his home: - unwonted fears fell on the pale oppressors of our race, and Faith, and Custom, and low-thoughted cares, like thunder-stricken dragons, for a space left the torn human heart, their food and dwelling-place. 14. Truth's deathless voice pauses among mankind! If there must be no response to my cry -  if men must rise and stamp with fury blind on his pur name who loves them, - thou and I, sweet Friend! Can look from our tranquillity like lamps into the world's tempestuous night, -  two tranquil stars, while clouds are passing by which wrap them from the foundering seaman's sight, that burn from year to year with unextinguished light.

Laon and Cythna / The Revolution of the Golden City - Percy Bysshe Shelley