#green blotter

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Breaking down the comics: Starting the Collection (Issue 3)

Moon Knight, Issue #3:  Midnight Means Murder. 

Written by Doug Moench and drawn by Bill Sienkiewicz

YES. BACK IN IT WITH BILL AND DOUG! 

I don’t know WHY I didn’t do this one in my first plans? Why the hell did I skip Midnight man? I covered his return, but his initial issue? I can’t explain past me to you. 

So here we are, back at the beginning. Issue number three! And we see Moon Knight’s FIRST big deal. It’s his first big villain (I don’t count Bushman. I’ll explain that later) that also reoccurs. 

The title page? 

We open on a splash of the Daily Bugel. 

And boy howdy is thi creative or what? And what makes me even happier? You can actually read the paper! You'll have to pardon me as I take you through it. I love when writers actually take the time to put something worth while in little newspaper clippings like this.

Saturday, May 3 1980. A nice picture of Moon Knight beating up two bank robbers and a mystery picture of someone robbing a museum. 

"They even list Doub Moench as the "Staff Writer" and give photographer credit to Bill Sienkiewicz. 

"ANOTHER LUNA NIGHT. "

"The third national bank was robbed last night, but only up to a point. 

That point was roughly three steps beyond the entrance of the defiled bank, located at the southwest corner of Madison Avenue and 89th Street, where the two armed desperadoes were abruptly assailed by a silver and black hurricane named Moon Knight. 

As far as the costumed vigilante is concerned, the hurricane analogy is more than apt. According to the sole eyewitness, the admittedly groggy night watchman (who had been struck on the head by ne of the would-be thieves), "The guy just seemed to come out of the sky like some kind of silver ghost, and then the two robbers were on the pavement. I never seen nothing like it before." 

As for the battered thugs (whose names are being withheld pending further investigation), one supposes they never knew what hit them. Long before the police arrived the Moon Knight had vanished, leaving behind only his silver crescent-dart 'calling card'--with the foiled thieves and recovered loot in the care of the night watchman. When this writer last checked the blotter, the two new prisoners were still peacefully dreaming of sweet green and all it can buy. A rude awakening of striped shadows and iron bars awaits them. 

And speaking of shadows, Manhattanites have never been more spooked by them, despite the relentless presence of the Moon Knight, if not the police. This was the 23rd night of New York's latest uninterrupted crime wave. And although Moon Knight has figured prominently (and spectacularly) in 19 of the past 23 nights, the jet nad silver whirlwind has yet to tangle with the most celebrated miscreant currently about town--he who has been dubbed "the Midnight Man," a thief with taste and the fall to appease it nightly in all the better parts of an outraged town. Even a hurricane, it seems, cannot strike everywhere. Even so, nor can one turn back the tide of the inevitable. Like the moon and midnight, these two mysterious men go together. And sooner or later, one suspects walking through the plastered shadows of this nighted city, their paths are destined to cross, and clash. It is only a matter of time, measured by the darkness between midnights." 

He certainly does play up Moon Knight a lot, doesn't he? Doug is just so super proud of his boy. 

And it also reminds me that Moon Knight's outfit was originally silver, not white. It was supposed to give him a leg-up against the werewolf, Jack Russel. 

The other article "Midnight Man Strikes Again" talks about 'the connoisseur art thief' that has burgled a rare Monet oil painting. He has also been taunting the police by mail. The latest note being a taunt to anyone that dares try to stop him, "including that gaudy buffoon Moon Knight," Especially "now that I've amply demonstrated that the police are no match for my cunning or finesse." 

ANYWAYS. I thought it was a good title page. 

We open on Moon Knight stopping a Saturday night mugging. 

I also love how Moon Knight insults people. “Turkey”.

We continue on, Midnights of missing art. 

We also see Moon Knight stopping various other crimes. 

"Tuesday morning at Grant Mansion--where one man lives under many names... Steven Grant, Marc Spector, Jake Lockley, and Moon Knight, among others." 

We find Steven working out with Marlene. 

"Morning, Delilah." 

"Nedda will have breakfast ready in twenty minutes." 

"Okay, Marlene--Just let me hit the bag a few minutes and then I'll take my steam bath." 

"As you wish, Steven... But in case you haven't noticed, I'm waiting with bated breath. Who are you today?" 

"Huh?" 

"What clothes do you want?" 

"Oh--Give me Lockley's." 

"Why Lockley?" 

"Thought I'd sniff out a little scandal, and Lockley's got the best nose--or at least the best connections." 

Ahh... Issue 3. Absolute denial country. 

Look at this man. He goes from prim proper Steven Grant to complete Jake Lockley in the comfort of his own home. It's...It's beautiful. 

"And so, at breakfast..." 

LOOK AT THIS MAN. (He doesn’t get his trademark mustache till a later issue). 

Jake, where are you manners? How are you sitting like that? 

I also adore how Jake always addresses Marlene as “Lady”. Like he refuses to acknowledge that they are an item. She’s just a lady that he has to live with because Marc and Steven have an eye for her. 

And look at poor Nedda in the background.��

Anyways, Marlene calls Jake on wanting to go after the Midnight man. 

"You can't bluff me, Mister--You're going after this 'Midnight Man'." 

"He's goading me Marlene, playing Jack the Ripper with these taunting letters in the paper." 

"But he's NOT the ripper--He's just a common, if clever thief." 

"So who ever claimed thieves were beneath me, Lady?" 

"That's not what I mean. I just worry sometimes. You're too eager to accept challenges. 

Besides, have you forgotten the charity bash you're hosting tonight? There's plenty to do around here as Steven Grant." 

"I'll be back in time. How long does it take to shuck Lockley's rags and shrug into Grant's tux?

And don't worry about me so much---You're forgetting who I am." 

Oh? And WHO are you, Jake buddy? (I prod because at this point Jake has not figured out who he is. Early Moon Knight was in so much denial). 

"It's easy to do, dear Steven--Excuse me, dear JAKE. You've got so many different names, identities, and moods, even YOU forget who you are half the time." 

DING DING. See. Marlene gets it. She hates it and pretends she doesn't... But she does get it. I get frustrated with Marlene with the amount rejection Marlene has over the whole system. She has her mind set on the whole "He's a mess but I can fix him" thing. ANd in her mind, fixing him is making Steven the only person in that head and settling down with her. 

What does Jake have to say about that? 

"Makes life interesting, Lady--Too boring being just one character. Maybe I should've been an actor. After all, all life's a stage." 

Jake my buddy my pal my good friend Jake… 

1980s everyone… 

Outside the mansion we find Samules, the butler. He's got Jake's cab ready for him. 

"Really, sir, don't you think this...ah, vehicle could use a washing once in a--" 

"Part of my disguise, Samules, the dirt is--Gotta look like a real New York cabbie in a real new york cab." 

"Very well, sir--But I do wish you'd make up your mind one of these days. Polish the mercedes and peel the cab's paint--Press the suit and rumble the jeans--Oh dear." 

Poor Samules. 

Jake tells him to go alert Frenchie to give the chopper a once-over. 

Samules heads up to the roof to meet with Frenchie. 

He finds the chopper alone with no Frenchie in sight. 

I miss Samules. 

I love that he makes the helicopter go "vroom vroom". 

And I love that Frenchie thinks this is cute and calls him the "Daring air-ace". 

He offers Samuels a 'little...ride' 

"Certainly not! It... It's undignified for a man of my...My--" 

"Oui, Samuels. I understand. But we can all dream, no?" 

....And in re-reading this I am faced with the fact that this could 100% have all been euphemisms and Frenchie legit hitting on Samuels. I doubt very much Moench wrote it that way on purpose... But then again... He was very sneaky and found ways to get away with things that were 'forbidden' to put in comics at this time... 

(Marvel Editor and Chief at the time, Shooter, was notoriously homophobic and banned the portrayal of gay characters in the comics. Doug and many other writers had a HUGE problem with this.) 

We find outselves next at Gena's! Jake's got a box as he heads on in. 

"After cruisin' all day with no luck, guess it's time to try old reliable..." 

"Hey, Gena--How's the kids?" 

He always asks her about the kids. Always. 

Jake turns to Crawley and hands him the box. 

If you’ll excuse me… I’m going to go sob and hug 1980s Moench Jake Lockley. I’ve missed him so much. 

He knows his people and he loves his people. 

Crawley dishes it out to Jake. 

He hasn't heard anything but there are some guys over at the pool hall across the way that might know more. 

Crawley escorts Jake over and they get the cold shoulder from the gys. They claim they haven't heard anything and get a little menacing about it. 

Jake tells them that "if anyone has a memory attack, I'll be out in the alley in fifteen minutes." 

He slips out, leaving Crawley to talk to the guys alone. 

They ask Crawley if Jake's a cop. 

"Certainly NOT. I keep company in a higher social stratum than THAT." 

He tells them Jake pays very well for good info and it would do them good to get in with that standing. 

The guys head outside with intent to rob Jake. 

Unfortunately for them, someone else is waiting. 

Moon Knight says don’t rob Jake. That’s rude. 

Moon Knight asks nicely where the Midnight man fences his loot. 

The remaining conscious man tells him that Midnight Man DOESN'T fence it. He keeps it! 

"B-But the word is... He... He's gonna take you on tonight..." 

He thanks the man for the info. 

I must say... No one really appreciates that Moon Knight really does have a witty sense of humor. He amuses himself and he's just a goof. 

Jake rushes back to Steven’s party. 

"You're late, Steven--Or is it still Jake?" Marlene greets them back at the mansion. 

"Nope---Jake Lockley has just retired for the evening, my dear Marlene. As of right now, I'm Steven Grant, prominent multi-millionaire and suave host of charity fund-raisers." 

"Then hurry and get dressed, Schizo." 

Yeah.... That's Marlene. I've said it before, but at this point in age, D.I.D was not widely known about and didn't really have a diagnosis or name. MPD (multiple Personality DIsorder) was also not really clarified at that time and everything was still classified under the all encompassing branch of "Schizophrenia". ...However, Schizo had become an insult used to describe anyone with any unpleasant or abnormal behavior. 

Marlene continues to chastise him telling him that the guests will be arriving and "Chances are they'd appreciate a brief appearance by the host." 

Narration: "Steven Grant suppresses a Lockley grin... Gaining full control of his new Persona some thirty minutes later..." 

I love this. Jake's got a sense of humor and is playful and mischievous. The idea of upsetting Marlene and missing the shindig all together appeals to Jake. He hates these fancy parties. And it takes 30 minutes for Steven to do a full switch out. This is actually a fantastic approach to DID and is probably the most accurate portrayal in Moon Knight you're going to get. 

At the party, Marlene introduces Steven to the people. 

"And now if I may have your attention, ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to present the host of the benefit, and the best boss I've ever had--indeed, the best of many bosses I've got right NOW--Steven Grant." 

Clever Marlene. 

Steven certainly didn't miss that little jab. 

"Flirty with danger, aren't you, darling?" 

Steven gives a very very short speech then starts to mingle. 

He meets up with one Anton Mogart (that name should ring a bell or two). 

He offers Steven his card. He's an art collector. He asks to speak to Steven privately. 

Steven has a few paintings but admits to be just a dabbler of art. "One must do something with one's money and walls, and somehow---George Washington wallpaper is just a trifle gauche." 

LOL Steven... 

Mogart admits he's a bit worried, and this is why he wanted to speak to Steven. 

"I understand an acquaintance of yours happens to be a soldier-of-fortune named Marc Spector, who contracts for certain...ah, dangerous undertakings." 

"You've done your homework, Mogart. What sort of contract do you have in mind?" 

"Protecting some paintings from imminent theft--by the Midnight Man. The fee would be, let us say, $100,000. These canvases, you see, are valuable." 

Mogart claims to have gotten a direct letter from the Midnight Man saying that he was coming for his paintings tonight. 

Steven agrees, saying "Spector owes me a favor. I'll subcontract the job in his behalf--" 

Steven even tells him that he doesn't want cash, but would like a new piece of art for his wall where there is an empty space. (this will come back later) 

Steven heads back to the Gala and tells Marlene that he needs to go. She protests but he tells her "I just got invited to a better party. Fill in for me." 

Frenchie….What are you reading. What is this ‘action’ you are talking about? 

They head to Anton Mogart's home in Jersey. Frenchie asks if it's a trap. 

Moon Knight notes it might be worse than a trap. 

Once they reach the house, he jumps from the copter and sneaks into the house through the window (for once he doesn't crash through it and I am sad to not have to add a tally to my chart). 

And we are treated to one of my favorite renditions of Moon Knight ever.

The lights come on and Midnight Man is there waiting for him. 

While Midnight Man had no fear of the police, he did worry that Moon Knight would stop him sooner or later, so he decided to force his hand and make it sooner. 

Pulling out a gun, he intends to kill Moon Knight so he can carry on with his robberies. 

Moon Knight flings his truncheon at the light, plunging them into darkness. 

He hides in the shadows (not easy to do when you have an outfit made out of SILVER) and then wails on Midnight Man a little. 

Which... To be fair to Midnight Man, heis a thief and NOT a fighter. 

Then again…

LOL Moon Knight really? 

They get off the elevator and Mogart pulls a dagger. 

They crash out the window (this does not count for dramatic window crash because they are leaving and Moon Knight didn't make this choice.) 

He slips on glass and ends up on the ground as usual. He spends a lot of time on the ground. 

Mogart takes advantage and prepares to stab him when…

Marlene shows up randomly to straight up murder a dude. 

Moon Knight tries to save him but Mogart plunges to the water below. 

“That really wasn’t necessary, Marlene–I would have stopped him. Besides, I rather liked the man… He was….Refreshingly psychotic.” 

This is what I love about Moon Knight and is something that continues throughout the Moench run and even pops up in later runs then comes back in MacKay’s run. 

Moon Knight genuinely grows attached to his villains. He cares about them and enjoys them. We see this again in Stained Glass Scarlet. In other runs, he tends to pick small time villains and just harass the hell out of them (See Eightball in MacKay’s run). They aren’t big time hitters. They barely muster enough gusto to be considered villains. Yet he comes after them as if they were big time villains. He even enjoys it. And you know what? I think it actually helps them. He knows their real names. He knows their trademarks. He recognises them right off the bat. They know Moon Knight’s watching them. They consider robbing a bank but see Moon Knight’s shadow and go “Nawh.” and go home. 

You know what else? He treats them with respect. Where as say, Wolverine, wouldn’t bat an eye and waste time on such small petty crooks. But Moon Knight does because he CARES. He cares about the people he’s helping, about doing a good job…

And about the villain. And like with Eightball, sometimes we see that Villain come around and change their lives and do good. Bringing good back into the world. 

So why did he like Mogart? Mogart was honest. He did what he did because he was greedy and wanted to possess things. He wanted to possess beautiful things. He didn’t hurt anyone, though his risks were getting bigger and bigger and were starting to lead to someone getting hurt. He also had a huge ego and did it all for the thrill. 

Marlene urges them to leave before the cops arrive but Moon Knight takes his time. 

Epilogue: 

We see Marlene and Steven going to the art museum. Suddenly, Marlene recognizes some of the pieces. 

The three pictures from before. It’s sort of funny that any time Steven does make large donations that aren’t about just money, he always puts Marc’s name there. The money? That’s Steven. Steven made the money and Steven will organize charities and events. But Marc? Marc’s going to be the one to add to art museums, open soup kitchens, or donate park benches. Is it Marc trying to make up for the things he’s done? Or is it Steven trying to remind Marc that there are good things that can be done in the world that aren’t always about breaking a nose? 

They head back to Grant Mansion. 

Marlene is still confused as to why he gave away the pictures. 

"I learned a lesson from Mogart--Collecting does bad things to the blood. Besides, there's still too much of vagabond Spector in my blood, too little of Collector Grant." 

Marlene asks what he'll do with the blank spot on the wall. 

Steven notes that the police dragged the river and never found a body. No body no death. It’s nice that the comics acknowledge that now and then. 

He's hung up Mogart's opera cape. 

"He'll be back for it someday--He's too much the collector to let it remain at large." 

Marlene tells him that she thinks he's right. 

"You see, my gun has always fired a trifle wide. And with you and Mogart struggling so close together, I couldn't trust it with anything but... Rubber bullets." 

And Mogart DOES return in a later issue and take his cape back. 

But for now, we end the issue! 

And you know what? This was a refreshing issue. It’s the start of Moon Knight’s love of his house of villains. We see an early introduction to Marc, Jake, and Steven starting to dance around one another, we see Marlene not only do her thing of rescuing Moon Knight, but of being the one to struggle to keep their life together. It’s amazing to look back at the start after running through backwards (why do I always do things backwards? Why does it always work?). 

I miss the old classic villains. They've made a point to kill them off over the years. They were dubbed to be too boring or over used or silly. But they had a certain nostalgia to them. Something he knew what to expect and I think they brought comfort to Moon Knight.

"Refreshingly Psychotic." He liked his neurotic villains. Weird and unique and somehow also sad and alone. Perhaps he saw a bit of himself in them. A path that he knows he could have taken. Can you imagine if Marc Spector had become a villain?

[aioledreams]

FFXIVWrite 2024 Day 3: Tempest

Ciel is assigned her first task for the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. 

In-game story very slightly altered to accommodate multiple player characters.

It was difficult to tell if he was looking at her. His red lensed glasses hid his gaze, and he seemed to be the sort that enjoyed clinging to the shadows besides. The dark skinned, white haired elezen had been eyeing her when it didn’t seem like she was looking since they had both arrived; she a bit later than he. The feel of his gaze was a distraction that kept pulling her away from what the antecedent was explaining. 

Ciel had chosen to stand nearby the heavy wooden desk at the back of the Solar. Tucked into the end of the Waking Sands, the windowless room smells of old books and lamp oil. And the Waking Sands, like all of Vesper Bay, has the unique scent of sea air touching desert aridity. For the most part the antecedent, Minfilia, seems to prefer spartan decor. The room is furnished with only a few pieces of furniture, the desk and its dark blue blotter, some plants, books, lamps, and a wide Ul’dahn tapestry carpet. The only thing of great ornamentation is the gold and crystal case set against the back wall. It holds the remnants of a wood and stone staff, placed there with the reverence of an artifact that has great value of more than just the monetary kind. 

Minfilia has a voice that is soft in timbre but strong in resolve. She speaks with the practiced tone of someone who is accustomed to sitting at political negotiation tables, and has the knowledge to match. 

Ciel glances once or twice at Y’Shtola. The white haired mi’qote is the only face among their number that is remotely familiar, and even then she is but an acquaintance. The woman had first mentioned the name Scions of the Seventh Dawn, claiming that they would know more of her strange visions.

The Scions are small in number, but Ciel thinks they all appear capable. Yda, a woman in a mask and a turban, and Papalymo, a lalafell in the telltale garb of a thaumaturge, hold themselves with a familiarity that speaks to long years of friendship. Y’Shtola is perfectly polite and forthright, though Ciel gets the distinct impression there is much going on behind her green eyes she keeps to herself. Y’Shtola does seem pleased that Ciel has taken her up on her offer to join their number. Thancred, the white haired hyur, exudes an aura of ease and a smile seems to come to his lips easily. Urianger, mysterious insofar as he hides behind goggles and a hood, has an excessively formal way of speaking but is nonetheless pleasant and welcoming. They all seem willing to allow Ciel into their confidence. Ciel wonders if it is due to Y’Shtola’s recommendation or because Minfilia believes the visions that plague her are a blessing, or both. For her part, Ciel feels the weight of their trust on her shoulders and wonders if she’s fit to carry it. 

“This is Tempest. He arrived just prior to your coming. Much like you, he is a prospective member of our order.” The dark skinned elezen inclines his head while Minfilia smiles. Her smile is more warm and familiar than Ciel expects for a diplomat. It is possessed of the hope that their newcomers find ‘family’ in the Scions as offered, and that they might join hands toward a greater good. “I would assign you both your first task…”  

Minfilia explains the request that has come to the Scions for aid, and their suspicions about the matter, with ease. Thancred details what they know so far and where the leads are most likely to take them. Both newly recruited Scions, and Thancred, are to make for camp Drybone to investigate a series of thefts and missing persons. 

Tempest is the first to leave the Solar, hearing the briefing and then disappearing out the heavy wooden door with surprisingly light feet. Ciel doesn’t notice he has left until they hear the door close behind them. She remains to ask for directions and then takes her leave as well. 

When she exits the solar to explore the short hallways and side rooms in the Waking Sands it appears as though her fellow new recruit has already left the building. There are several people to meet and converse with in the halls and its adjoining half common area, half storage area. It seems as though the Scions use its worn wooden tables and chairs when not otherwise occupied on order business. The rest of the room is stacked high with barrels, crates, scrolls, and other materiel. The dark skinned elf is not there, even in the shadowed corners behind the crates. 

Given what little she knows about both her new colleagues, she feels relieved that Thancred seems personable. Ciel can only think that working with Tempest on the task ahead will be awkward at best.

[widoweye]

Then the X-Files being

Looking like some kind of blue-green Jackie Chan with Isabella Rossellini lips

And breath that reeked of vanilla Chig Champa

Did a slo-mo Matrix descent out of the butt-end of the banana vessel

And hovered above my bug-eyes, my gaping jaw

My sweaty L. Ron Hubbard upper lip and all I could think was

"I hope Uncle Martin here doesn't notice that I pissed my fucking pants!"

So light in his way, like an apparition

He had me crying out

"Fuck me, it's gotta be The Deadhead Chemistry

The blotter got right on top of me

Got me seeing E-motherfucking-T!"

And after calming me down with some

Orange slices and some fetal spooning

E.T. revealed to me his singular purpose

He said, "You are The Chosen One

The One who will deliver the message

A message of hope for those who choose to hear it

And a warning for those who do not"

Me, The Chosen One? They chose me!

And I didn't graduate from fuckin' high school

[regulushair]

Sudden Guerlen and powdery flowers day:

Champs-Élysées Eau de Parfum by Guerlain - this is very lovely mimosa - very bright and powdery and with somewhat noticeable green and woody notes. The longevity on the blotter was surprisingly good so I might return to it to test on the skin.

Insolence Eau de Parfum by Guerlain - very sweet violets and irises - very very powdery but also very sweet - the strawberries give slight fruitiness but not much actual strawberry smell. It's nice but not exactly my thing.

L'Instant de Guerlain Eau de Parfum by Guerlain - for what's in the pyramid this is surprisingly fresh - I'd say thanks to citruses at the top and magnolia that gives light wateriness - it does becomes sweeter and slightly creamier with time - ylang-ylang and all that - very pleasant.

Aqua Allegoria Flora Salvaggia by Guerlain - another very powdery violet with a lot of watery freshness and slight coldness.

Samsara Eau de Parfum by Guerlain - this was odd - I thought sandal would be milkier here - but it's not - it's still salty and it matches very weirdly with sweet flowers and tonka beans and vanilla at the bottom. Might come back to it just to see if it's always like that.

Terracotta Le Parfum by Guerlain - very very sweet desserty white flowers - creamy and with increasingly a lot of vanilla. It's pleasant but not especially interesting.

Idylle Eau de Parfum by Guerlain - returned to this one and it's still very similar to Pure Musk - very soft and slightly powdery and fluffy musk with lily-of-the-valley and some other floral notes in the background. This might have slightly better longevity than Rodriguez, but not critically. Not sure which one I liked more...

[insilverrolled]

Mood Indigo

By William Matthews [x]

From the porch; from the hayrick where her prickled brothers hid and chortled and slurped into their young pink lungs the ash-blond dusty air that lay above the bales

like low clouds; and from the squeak and suck of the well-pump and from the glove of rust it implied on her hand; from the dress parade of clothes

in her mothproofed closet; from her tiny Philco with its cracked speaker and Sunday litany (Nick Carter, The Shadow, The Green Hornet, Sky King);

from the loosening bud of her body; from hunger, as they say, and from reading; from the finger she used to dial her own number; from the dark

loam of the harrowed fields and from the very sky; it came from everywhere. Which is to say it was always there, and that it came from nowhere.

It evaporated with the dew, and at dusk when dark spread in the sky like water in a blotter, it spread, too, but it came back and curdled with milk and stung

with nettles. It was in the bleat of the lamb, the way a clapper is in a bell, and in the raucous, scratchy gossip of the crows. It walked with her to school and lay

with her to sleep and at least she was well pleased. If she were to sew, she would prick her finger with it. If she were to bake, it would linger in the kitchen

like an odor snarled in the deepest folds of childhood. It became her dead pet, her lost love, the baby sister blue and dead at birth, the chill headwaters of the river

that purled and meandered and ran and ran until it issued into her, as into a sea, and then she was its and it was wholly hers. She kept to her room, as we

learned to say, but now and then she’d come down and pass through the kitchen, and the screen door would close behind her with no more sound than

an envelope being sealed, and she’d walk for hours In the fields like a lithe blue rain, and end up In the barn, and one of us would go and bring her in.

[banditcoyote]

Echo sat back in his chair, simply observing Sasuga in silence and mulling over what she had just told him, the silence seemed to go on for too long but before Sasuga can open her mouth again he spoke. "Would it comfort you to know that...I see them as well?" he asked her, his eyes flashing to meet hers. "But what is most curious to me is....no one...and I mean no one...has ever seen them, besides you." he said and placed his pen back on the expensive green blotter. "Why do you think that is?"

Blood and Moonlight

Sasuga woke in what was at first an unfamiliar area but as she blinked fully awake she realized it was their closet that Coyote had decorated for them. She smiled and took a careful kiss from her mate who was still sound asleep next to her. It really had been an amazing night with the family and then with her husband. As she slipped from his arms, she took a moment to look at her reflection in the mirror, her fingers dancing over the fresh marks on her neck and hips. She couldn't have asked for anything more from the night and it was with some reluctance that she dressed. She picked out a pair of warm leggings and a short little skirt to pull over them with some knee high boots and a thick sweater. She slipped from the closet and moved to the bathroom to comb her hair and brush her teeth and get ready for the big day ahead. She gave a stretch and headed downstairs only to find a familiar face waiting for her. "Raphael..." she smiled and moved to greet him with a hug. "I see you are still alive." she smirked. "Want some tea? Coffee?"

@banditcoyote

[alexawesomeblog]

An Expert's Guide to Finding Your Signature Scent

Finding a signature scent can be a deeply personal and rewarding journey, akin to discovering a piece of yourself encapsulated in a bottle. It is about more than just smelling good; it's about selecting a fragrance that resonates with your personality, evokes memories, and complements your style. Here’s a guide to help you navigate the aromatic landscape and find a scent that is uniquely yours.

Understanding Fragrance Families.

Before diving into specific scents such as the luminous ghost cologne or the ylang in gold, it is crucial to understand the basic categories of fragrances. Perfumes are generally classified into four main families: Floral, Oriental, Woody, and Fresh. Each family has distinct characteristics that can help guide your selection process.

1. Floral: These scents are often romantic and feminine, featuring notes of flowers like rose, jasmine, and lily. They are perfect for those who enjoy classic, elegant fragrances.

2. Oriental: Known for their warm and spicy notes, Oriental fragrances often include ingredients like vanilla, amber, and exotic spices. These scents are rich, opulent, and best suited for evening wear.

3. Woody: These fragrances are grounded and earthy, with notes of sandalwood, cedar, and patchouli. They are ideal for those who prefer a more natural, sophisticated aroma.

4. Fresh: These scents are light and invigorating, with notes of citrus, green leaves, and aquatic elements. They are perfect for a clean, energetic vibe.

Discovering Your Preferences.

To find your signature scent, start by exploring each fragrance family to see which resonates most with you. Visit a department store or a specialty perfume shop and sample a variety of scents. Here are some tips to make the most of your sampling experience:

1. Test on Your Skin: Fragrances can smell different on your skin compared to a blotter or in the bottle. Apply a small amount to your wrist or the crook of your elbow to see how it interacts with your body chemistry.

2. Give It Time: Perfumes have top, middle, and base notes that unfold over time. Allow the fragrance to develop for at least 30 minutes before deciding if you like it.

3. Avoid Overwhelming Your Senses: Smelling too many perfumes at once can confuse your sense of smell. Take breaks between sampling, and use coffee beans to reset your olfactory senses.

4. Consider the Season and Occasion: Some scents are more suitable for certain times of the year or specific events. For instance, lighter, citrusy fragrances work well for summer, while richer, spicier scents are perfect for winter.

Analysing Your Lifestyle and Personality.

Your fragrance should align with your lifestyle and personality. Ask yourself the following questions to narrow down your options:

1. What Is My Daily Routine Like? If you have an active lifestyle, you might prefer a fresh, clean scent. If your days are filled with social events, a more sophisticated, alluring fragrance might be appropriate.

2. What Are My Hobbies and Interests? Your interests can also guide your choice. Nature lovers might lean towards woody, earthy scents, while someone who loves cooking might appreciate gourmand fragrances with notes like vanilla or chocolate.

3. How Do I Want to Be Perceived? Fragrances can make powerful statements. Do you want to come across as confident and powerful, or are you aiming for a more relaxed, approachable vibe? Your scent can help convey these attributes.

Signature Scent Selection Process.

Once you've identified your preferences and narrowed down your options, it's time to select your signature scent. Here are some steps to help you finalize your choice:

1. Create a Shortlist: Choose a few scents from different fragrance families that you particularly enjoy. Narrowing it down to three or four options can make the decision easier.

2. Wear Them Regularly: Purchase samples or travel-sized bottles of your shortlisted fragrances and wear them on different days. Pay attention to how they make you feel and the reactions you receive from others.

3. Evaluate Longevity and Sillage: Consider how long the fragrance lasts on your skin and how far it projects. A good signature scent should have a balance of longevity and sillage (the trail left by the scent).

4. Trust Your Instincts: Ultimately, your signature scent should feel like a natural extension of yourself. Trust your instincts and choose the fragrance that resonates most deeply with you.

Caring for Your Fragrance.

Once you've found your signature scent, it's important to take care of it properly to ensure it stays fresh and potent. Store your perfume in a cool, dark place away from direct sunlight and heat, as these elements can degrade the fragrance. Keep the bottle tightly sealed to prevent oxidation.

Finding your signature scent is a journey of self-discovery and expression. By understanding fragrance families, analysing your lifestyle and personality, and testing various scents, you can find a fragrance that truly embodies who you are. Remember, the perfect scent is one that makes you feel confident, happy, and uniquely you. So, take your time, explore different options, and enjoy the aromatic adventure.

[human-antithesis]

Rosetta Stoned

Alright then, picture this if you will: 10 to 2 AM, X, Yogi DMT, and a box of Krispy Kremes, in my "need to know" pose, just outside of Area 51. Contemplating the whole "chosen people" thing with just a flaming stealth banana split the sky like one would hope but never really expect to see in a place like this. Cutting right angle donuts on a dime and stopping right at my Birkenstocks, and me yelping… Holy fucking shit!

Then the X-Files being, looking like some kind of blue-green Jackie Chan with Isabella Rossellini lips and breath that reeked of vanilla Chig Champa, Did a slow-mo Matrix descent out of the butt end of the banana vessel and hovered above my bug-eyes, my gaping jaw, and my sweaty L. Ron Hubbard upper lip and all I could think was: "I hope Uncle Martin here doesn't notice that I pissed my fuckin' pants."

So light in his way, Like an apparition, He had me crying out, "Fuck me. It's gotta be Deadhead Chemistry. The blotter got right on top of me. Got me seein' E-motherfuckin'-T!"

And after calming me down with some orange slices and some fetal spooning, E.T. revealed to me his singular purpose. He said, "You are the Chosen One, the One who will deliver the message. A message of hope for those who choose to hear it and a warning for those who do not." Me. The Chosen One? They chose me! And I didn't even graduate from fuckin' high school.

You'd better… You'd better… You'd better… You'd better listen

Then he looked right through me With somniferous almond eyes. Don't even know what that means Must remember to write it down. This is so real. Like the time Dave floated away. See my heart is pounding, 'Cause this shit never happens to me.

Can't breathe, right now! It was so real. Like I woke up in Wonderland. All sort of terrifying. I don't wanna be all alone when I tell this story. And can anyone tell me why You all sound like Peanuts parents Will I ever be coming down? This is so real. Finally it's my lucky day. See my heart is racing, 'Cause this shit never happens to me.

Can't breathe, right now!

You believe me, don't you? Please believe what I just said, see the Dead ain't touring. And this wasn't all in my head. See they took me by the hand and invited me right in, Then they showed me something. I don't even know where to begin.

Strapped down my bed. Feet cold and eyes red. I'm out my head. Am I alive, am I dead? Can't remember what they said. God damn. Shit the bed!

High… I I I I I… high… I I I I I High [Repeated]

Overwhelmed as one would be, placed in my position. Such a heavy burden now to be the one. Born to bear and bring to all the details of our ending To write it down for all the world to see. But I forgot my pen, Shit the bed again, Typical.

Strapped down my bed. Feet cold and eyes red. I'm out my head. Am I alive, am I dead? Sunkist and Sudafed, Gyroscopes and infrared. Won't help, brain dead. Can't remember what they said. God damn. Shit the bed!

I can't remember what they said to me. Can't remember what they said to make me out to be a hero! Can't remember what they said.

Bob help me. Can't remember what they said.

Don't know. Won't know. [Repeated]

God damn. Shit the bed!

[notmuchtoconceal]

( o ) The Maltese Falcon ( o )

I . Spade & Archer

Samuel Spade's jaw was long and bony, his chin a jutting v under the more flexible v of his mouth. His nostrils curved back to make another, smaller, v. His yellow-grey eyes were horizontal. The v motif was picked up again by thickish brows rising outward from twin creases above a hooked nose, and his pale brown hair grew down -- from high flat temples -- in a point on his forehead. He looked rather pleasantly like a blond satan.

He said to Effie Perine: "Yes, sweetheart?"

She was a lanky sunburned girl whose tan dress of thin woolen stuff clung to her with an effect of dampness. Her eyes were brown and playful in a shiny boyish face. She finished shutting the door behind her, leaned against it, and said: "There's a girl wants to se you. Her name's Wonderly."

"A customer?"

"I guess so. You'll want to see her anyway: she's a knockout."

"Shoo her in, darling," said Spade. "Shoo her in."

Effie Perine opened the door again, following it back into the outer office, standing with a hand on the knob while saying: "Will you come in, Miss Wonderly?"

A voice said, "Thank you," so softly that only the purest articulation made the words intelligible, and a young woman came through the doorway. She advanced slowly, with tentative steps, looking at Spade with cobalt-blue eyes that were both shy and probing.

She was tall and pliantly slender, without angularity anywhere. Her body was erect and high-breasted, her legs long, her hands and feet narrow. She wore two shades of blue that had been selected because of her eyes. The hair curling from under her blue hat was darkly red, her full lips more brightly red. White teeth glistened in the crescent her timid smile made.

Spade rose bowing and indicating with a thick-fingered hand the oaken armchair beside his desk.

He was quite six feet tall.

The steep rounded slope of his shoulders made his body seem almost conical -- no broader than it was thick -- and kept his freshly pressed grey coat from fitting very well.

Miss Wonderly murmured, "Thank you," softly as before and sat down on the edge of the chair's wooden seat. Spade sank into his swivel-chair, made a quarter-turn to face her, smiled politely. He smiled without separating his lips. All the v's in his face grew longer.

The tappity-tap-tap and the thin bell and muffled whit of Effie Perine's typewriting came through the closed door. Somewhere in a neighboring office a power-driven machine vibrated dully. On Spade's desk a limp cigarette smoldered in a brass tray filled with the remains of limp cigarettes. Ragged grey flakes of cigarette-ash dotted the yellow top of the desk and the green blotter and the papers that were there. A buff-curtained window, eight of ten inches open, let in from the court a current of air faintly scented with ammonia. The ashes on the desk twitched and crawled in the current.

Miss Wonderly watched the grey flakes twitch and crawl. Her eyes were uneasy. She sat on the very edge of the chair. Her feet were flat on the floor, as if she were about to rise. Her hands in dark gloves clasped a dark handbag in her lap.

Spade rocked back in his chair and asked: "Now what can I do for you, Miss Wonderly?"

She caught her breath and looked at him. She swallowed and said hurriedly: "Could you --? I thought -- I -- that is --" Then she tortured her lower lip with glistening teeth and said nothing. Only her dark eyes spoke now, pleading.

Spade smiled and nodded as if he understood her, but pleasantly, as if nothing serious were involved. He said "Suppose you tell me about it, from the beginning, and then we'll know what needs doing. Better begin as far back as you can."

"That was in New York."

"Yes."

"I don't know where she met him. I mean I don't know where in New York. She's five years younger than I -- only seventeen -- and we didn't have the same friends. I don't suppose we've ever been as close as sisters should be. Mama and Papa are in Europe. It would kill them. I've got to get her back before they come home."

"Yes," he said.

"They're coming home the first of the month."

Spade's eyes brightened. "Then we've two weeks," he said.

"I didn't know what she had done until her letter came. I was frantic." Her lips trembled. Her hands mashed the dark handbag in her lap. "I was too afraid she had done something like this to go to the police, and the fear that something had happened to her kept urging me to go. There wasn't anyone I could go to for advice. I didn't know what to do.

... What could I do?"

"Nothing, of course," Spade said, "but then her letter came?"

"Yes, and I sent her a telegram asking her to come home. I sent it to General Delivery here. That was the only address she gave me. I waited a whole week, but no answer came, not another word from her. And Mama and Papa's return was drawing nearer and nearer. So I came to San Francisco to get her. I wrote her I was coming. I shouldn't have done that, should i?"

"Maybe not. It's not always easy to know what to do. You haven't found her?"

"No, I haven't. I wrote her that I would go to the St. Mark, and I begged her to come and let me talk to her even if she didn't intend to go home with me. But she didn't come. I waited three days, and she didn't come, didn't even send me a message of any sort."

Spade nodded his blond satan's head, frowned sympathetically, and tightened his lips together.

"It was horrible," Miss Wonderly said, trying to smile. "I couldn't sit there like that -- waiting -- not knowing what had happened to her, what might be happening to her." She stopped trying to smile. She shuddered. "The only address I had was General Delivery. I wrote her another letter, and yesterday afternoon I went to the Post Office. I stayed there until after dark, but I didn't see her. I went there again this morning, and still didn't see Corinne, but I saw Floyd Thursby."

Spade nodded again. His frown went away. In its place came a look of sharp attentiveness.

"He wouldn't tell me where Corinne was," she went on, hopelessly. "He wouldn't tell me anything, except that she was well and happy. But how can I believe that? That is what he would tell me anyhow, isn't it?"

"Sure," Spade agreed. "But it might be true."

"I hope it is. I do hope it is," she exclaimed. "But I can't go back home like this, without having seen her, without even having talked to her on the phone. He wouldn't take me to her. He said she didn't want to see me. I can't believe that. He promised to tell her he had seen me, and to bring her to see me - if she would come - this evening at the hotel. He said he knew she wouldn't. He promised to come himself if she wouldn't. He--"

She broke off with a startled hand to her mouth as the door opened.

( o )

The man who had opened the door came in a step, said "Oh, excuse me!" hastily took his brown hat from his head, and backed out.

"It's all right, Miles," Spade told him. "Come in. Miss Wonderly, this is Mr. Archer, my partner."

Miles Archer came into the office again, shutting the door behind him, ducking his head and smiling at Miss Wonderly, making a vaguely polite gesture with the hat in his hand. He was of medium height, solidly built, wide in the shoulders, thick in the neck, with a jovial heavy-jawed red face and some grey in his close-trimmed hair. He was apparently as many years past forty as Spade was past thirty.

Spade said: "Miss Wonderly's sister ran away from New York with a fellow named Floyd Thursby. They're here. Miss Wonderly has seen Thursby and has a date with him tonight. Maybe he'll bring the sister with him. The chances are he won't. Miss Wonderly wants us to find the sister and get her away from him and back home." He looked at Miss Wonderly. "Right?"

"Yes," she said indistinctly. The embarrassment that had gradually been driven away by Spade's ingratiating smiles and nods and assurances was pinkening her face again. She looked at the bag in in her lap and picked nervously at it with a gloved finger.

Spade winked at his partner.

Miles Archer came forward to stand at a corner of the desk. While the girl looked at her bag, he looked at her. His little brown eyes ran their bold appraising gaze from her lowered face to her feet and up to her face again. Then he looked at Spade and made a silent whistling mouth of appreciation. Spade lifted two fingers from the arm of his chair in a brief warning gesture and said:

"We shouldn't have any trouble with it. It's simply a matter of having a man at the hotel this evening to shadow him away when he leaves, and shadow him until he leads us to your sister. If she comes with him, and you persuade her to return with you, so much the better. Otherwise --if she doesn't want to leave him after we've found her -- well, we'll find a way of managing that."

Archer said: "Yeh." His voice was heavy, coarse.

Miss Wonderly looked up at Spade, quickly, puckering her forehead between her eyebrows.

'"Oh, but you must be careful!" Her voice shook a little, and her lips shaped the words with nervous jerkiness. "I'm deathly afraid of him, of what he might do. She's so young and his bringing her here from New York is such a serious -- Mightn't he -- mightn't he do -- something to her?"

Spade smiled and patted the arms of his chair.

"Just leave that to us," he said. "We'll know how to handle him."

"But mightn't he?" she insisted.

"There's always a chance." Spade nodded judicially. "But you can trust us to take care of that."

"I do trust you," she said earnestly, "but I want you to know that he's a dangerous man. I honestly don't think he'd stop at anything. I don't believe he'd hesitate to -- to kill Corinne if he thought it would save him. Mightn't he do that?"

"You didn't threaten him, did you?"

"I told him that all I wanted was to get her home before Mama and Papa came so they'd never know what she had done. I promised him I'd never say a word to them about it if he helped me, but if he didn't Papa would certainly see that he was punished. I - I don't suppose he believed me, altogether."

"Can he cover up by marrying her?" Archer asked.

The girl blushed and replied in a confused voice: "He has a wife and three children in England. Corinne wrote me that, to explain why she had gone off with him."

"They usually do," Spade said, "though not always in England." He leaned forward to reach for pencil and pad of paper. "What does he look like?"

"Oh, he's thirty-five years old, perhaps, and as tall as you, and either naturally dark or quite sunburned. His hair is dark too, and he has thick eyebrows. He talks in a rather loud, blustery way and has a nervous, irritable manner. He gives the impression of being -- of violence."

Spade, scribbling on the pad, asked without looking up: "What color eyes?"

"They're blue-grey and watery, though not in a weak way. And -- oh, yes -- he has a marked cleft in his chin."

"Thin, medium, or heavy build?"

"Quite athletic. He's broad-shouldered and carries himself erect, has what could be called a decidedly military carriage. He was wearing a light grey suit and a grey hat when I saw him this morning."

"What does he do for a living?" Spade asked as he laid down his pencil.

"I don't know" she said. "I haven't the slightest idea."

"What time is he coming to see you?"

"After eight o'clock."

"All right, Miss Wonderly, we'll have a man there. It'll help if --"

"Mr. Spade, could either you or Mr. Archer?" She made an appealing gesture with both hands. "Could either of you look after it personally? I don't mean that the man you'd send wouldn't be capable, but - oh! - I'm so afraid of what might happen to Corinne. I'm afraid of him. Could you? I'd be -- I'd expect to be charged more, of course." She opened her hand-bag with nervous fingers and put two hundred-dollar bills on Spade's desk. "Would that be enough?"

"Yeh," Archer said, "and I'll look after it myself."

Miss Wonderly stood up, impulsively holding a hand out to him.

"Thank you! Thank you!" she exclaimed, and then gave Spade her hand, repeating: "Thank you!"

"Not at all," Spade said over it "Glad to. It'll help some if you either meet Thursby downstairs or let yourself be seen in the lobby with him at some time."

"I wil," she promised, and thanked the partners again.

"And don't look for me," Archer cautioned her. "I'll see you all right."

( )

Spade went to the corridor-door with Miss Wonderly. When he returned to his desk Archer nodded at the hundred-dollar bills there, growled complacently, "They're right enough," picked one up, folded it, and tucked it into a vest-pocket. "And they had brothers in her bag."

Spade pocketed the other bill before he sat down. Then he said: "Well, don't dynamite her too much. What do you think of her?"

"Sweet! And you telling me not to dynamite her." Archer guffawed suddenly without merriment. "Maybe you saw her first, Sam, but I spoke first." He put his hands in his trousers-pockets and teetered on his heels.

"You'll play hell with her, you will." Spade grinned wolfishly, showing the edges of his teeth far back in his jaw. "You've got brains, yes you have."

He began to make a cigarette.

[hellkat808]

Tool – Rosetta Stoned @tool https://genius.com/Tool-rosetta-stoned-lyrics

[Intro]

Alrighty, then

Picture this if you will

[Verse 1]

10 to 2 AM, X, Yogi DMT, and a box of Krispy Kremes

In my "need to know" pose, just outside of Area 51

Contemplating the whole "chosen people" thingy

When just then a flaming stealth banana split the sky

Like one would hope but never really expect to see in a place like this

Cutting right angle donuts on a dime

And stopping right at my Birkenstocks

And me yelping, "holy fucking shit"

Holy fucking shit

Holy fucking shit

Holy fucking shit

Holy fucking shit

Holy fucking shit

Holy fucking shit

[Verse 2]

Then the X-File being

Looking like some kind of blue-green Jackie Chan

With Isabella Rossellini lips, and breath that reeked of

Vanilla Chig Champa

Did a slow-mo Matrix descent

Outta the butt end of the banana vessel

And hovered above my bug-eyes, my gaping jaw

And my sweaty L. Ron Hubbard upper lip

And all I could think was

"I hope Uncle Martin here doesn't notice

That I pissed my fuckin' pants"

[Verse 3]

So light in his way, like an apparition, that

He had me crying out

"Fuck me, it's gotta be

The Deadhead Chemistry

The blotter got right on top of me

Got me seein' E-motherfuckin'-T"

[Verse 4]

And after calming me down

With some orange slices

And some fetal spooning

E.T. revealed to me his singular purpose

He said, "You are the chosen one

The one who will deliver the message

A message of hope for those who choose to hear it

And a warning for those who do not"

Me, the chosen one

They chose me

And I didn't even graduate from fuckin' high school

[Refrain]

You'd better

You'd better

You'd better

You'd better listen

[Verse 5]

Then he looked right through me

With somniferous almond eyes

Don't even know what that means

Must remember to write it down

This is so real

Like the time Dave floated away

See, my heart is pounding

'Cause this shit never happens to me

[Verse 6]

I can't breathe right now

It was so real

Like I woke up in Wonderland

All sorta terrifying

I don't wanna be all alone

While I tell this story

And can anyone tell me why

You all sound like Peanuts parents?

Will I ever be coming down?

This is so real

Finally, it's my lucky day

See, my heart is racing

'Cause this shit never happens to me

[Verse 7]

I can't breathe right now

You believe me, don't you?

Please believe what I've just said

See the Dead ain't touring

And this wasn't all in my head

See, they took me by the hand

And invited me right in

Then they showed me something

I don't even know where to begin

[Chorus]

Strapped down to my bed

Feet cold and eyes red

I'm out of my head

Am I alive? Am I dead?

Can't remember what they said

God damn, shit the bed

[Bridge]

Overwhelmed as one would be, placed in my position

Such a heavy burden now to be the one

Born to bear and bring to all the details of our ending

To write it down for all the world to see

But I forgot my pen

Shit the bed again

Typical

[Chorus]

Strapped down to my bed

Feet cold and eyes red

I'm out of my head

Am I alive? Am I dead?

Sunkist and Sudafed

Gyroscopes and infrared

Won't help, I'm brain dead

Can't remember what they said

God damn, shit the bed

[Verse 8]

I can't remember what they said to me

Can't remember what they said to make me out to be the hero

Can't remember what they said

Bob help me

Can't remember what they said

[Outro]

Don't know, won't know

Don't know, won't know

Don't know, won't know

Don't know, won't know

Don't know, won't know

Don't know, won't know

Don't know, won't know

Don't know, won't know

Don't know, won't know

Don't know, won't know

Don't know, won't know

Don't know, won't know

God damn, shit the bed

[lvcarchiveblog]

Green Blotter Literary Society was founded by Dr. George Struble on November 3rd, 1932. Green Blotter produces an annual publication of undergraduate prose, poetry, and art submissions.

In years past, the head editor was referred to as “Head Scop”, and all other contributing members were called the “Ink Spots”. The member in charge of keeping track of all the literary pieces was dubbed “Keeper of the Word Horde”.

You can view Green Blotter’s new issues here.

[regulushair]

Orto Parisi and a little something something on the side (as far as I know Orto Parisi doesn't publish any pyramids, so I have no clue where does, whatever fragrantica shows, come from, so I won't be looking at it too much):

Viride by Orto Parisi - it's indeed viride - green - very green. And it smells like everything green - it has both pine needles and a lot of soft wild greenery - no flowers but a whole pile of leaves an stems. It gets a little more bitter with time - more woody. It's really good - when I first sprayed it, I didn't want to take the blotter away from my nose.

Stercus by Orto Parisi - here I came very prepared for it to be shitty - literally and figuratively - it's supposed to be inspired by fertilisers, but... I didn't feel any here. I feel fertile wet soil, freshness and mushrooms. Not pure mushrooms - not like when you're putting an actual mushroom to your nose - but the scent when you come to the forest in late summer or early autumn and you know - there are mushrooms there. At the very end it becomes labdanum-like, I guess? (Since when do I know what labdanum smells like?)

Terroni by Orto Parisi - this one is inspired by Vesuvius specifically and southern Italy in general (terroni is derogatory for southern Italian) and to me it gave sweet alcohol and tobacco at the start then it becomes almost full bitter tobacco and at the very end something sweet returns to it, but it's somehow fresher? I don't know, if we're trying to imagine a picture - Vesuvius-wise - at first it's an eruption - bright and sweet and warm, then the fire ends and just the smoke and ash remains, but then from the ashes something new grows.

Bergamask by Orto Parisi - this one I wasn't sure about at all, since promotion images show some exotic landscapes and mushrooms and it has musk in the title which is a little suspicious on its in niche perfume, but it's actually pretty literal. It gives you citruses and then on the blotter it fades into something body-odour-esque? From the blotter is seems the most conventional from all, but I'm definitely going to try it on the skin - maybe the musk acts up?

Brutus by Orto Parisi - this is one supposed to be brutal, mannish, but compared to "Cuorium" this one is actually very soft. It gave me soft and fresh leather, maybe some non-sweet but not too dark patchouli. It's nice.

Boccanera by Orto Parisi - I'm unsure what this is supposed to represent. The title means "black mouth" in Italian, which is also a type of fish. The promo pictures on the official website are full of vaginal symbolism. So I guess this is Seminalis' counterpart? This starts somewhat sweet, I saw people say it's chocolate - and I can guess it there, but it's definitely dark chocolate. This honestly seems similar to Terroni (which is not surprising Italy and volcanoes are full of sexual energy) especially at the dry-down, but this one is softer.

Seminalis by Orto Parisi - this one I've actually worn this time because I was very curious. Come on - perfume that's supposed to smell like cum. Well, that was quite a journey. At the start it was almost exactly like from the bottle - cookies (something simple - oatmeal like) but with slight slight bitterness. Then then the bitterness becomes more prevalent but the sweetness is still somewhere there. At this stage I can guess where people feel dirty bodies in here - it does give some sweat but it's not unpleasant - just unusual. The the sweetness ends and it becomes pretty tame, slightly bitter, vetiver-ish - really nice. But the interesting thing is that then the sweetness returns but at this stage I can't really describe it - since it's not edible, but it's also not the "sweaty" part of it. Either way it's good. And it's also the most long living perfume I've ever tried - it lasted half the day, it didn't probably wash off in my very hot shower and something even stayed with me in the morning! Wow.

Vanille Eau de Parfum by Molinard - here's the little something something much simpler. This I tried because I'm eyeing Molinard's travel set and this one is there and I was expecting it to be okay. But it's actually so good! Especially compared to Mancera's vanillas that I tried the day before - there are Poison Ivy's carnivorous orchids (vanilla is an orchid, just in case) that want to tear you apart (and not in a fun way) - and here it's soft and nice and edible. At the start it's vanilla ice cream (like fancy one) and then it's cookies and here *drum roll* at the dry-out it literally gives Montale "Chocolate Greedy" but a little softer. So, it's great! I'm definitely getting that travel set, at some point.

[sepjapon-blog]

each contain 220ug of LSD and apparently 10mg 2CB.

Had great experiences dosing it at 10ug, 70ug and 120ug, going for a 220ug (whole blotter) this weekend. Trip safe!💚💜

I don‘t sell, just want to inform people so everybody can have a safe & good time. :)

[your-jellyfish-senpai]

ARE YOU A WRITER???

ARE YOU CURRENTLY ENROLLED IN AN UNDERGRADUATE PROGRAM???

DO YOU WANT TO BE PUBLISHED???

WITHOUT PAYING A SUBMISSION FEE???

Then check out ~Green Blotter~ an undergraduate-run annual literary magazine based at Lebanon Valley College in Central Pennsylvania!!!

We are currently accepting submissions in prose (fiction and creative nonfiction), poetry, and art from undergraduate students around the world!!

We’ve extended our deadline to Sunday February 26, and we do not have a submission fee!!

Visit - http://www2.lvc.edu/greenblotter/ - for more information and to submit!! Online submissions only.

~~ Also, we have a table at the current AWP Conference in DC through Saturday, so if you’re attending, stop by 359-T at the book fair to chat and pick up a copy of our issues from the past few years! ~~

Feel free to contact me on Tumblr, as well.

[alexawesomeblog]

An Expert's Guide to Finding Your Signature Scent

Finding a signature scent can be a deeply personal and rewarding journey, akin to discovering a piece of yourself encapsulated in a bottle. It is about more than just smelling good; it's about selecting a fragrance that resonates with your personality, evokes memories, and complements your style. Here’s a guide to help you navigate the aromatic landscape and find a scent that is uniquely yours.

Understanding Fragrance Families.

Before diving into specific scents such as the luminous ghost cologne or the ylang in gold, it is crucial to understand the basic categories of fragrances. Perfumes are generally classified into four main families: Floral, Oriental, Woody, and Fresh. Each family has distinct characteristics that can help guide your selection process.

1. Floral: These scents are often romantic and feminine, featuring notes of flowers like rose, jasmine, and lily. They are perfect for those who enjoy classic, elegant fragrances.

2. Oriental: Known for their warm and spicy notes, Oriental fragrances often include ingredients like vanilla, amber, and exotic spices. These scents are rich, opulent, and best suited for evening wear.

3. Woody: These fragrances are grounded and earthy, with notes of sandalwood, cedar, and patchouli. They are ideal for those who prefer a more natural, sophisticated aroma.

4. Fresh: These scents are light and invigorating, with notes of citrus, green leaves, and aquatic elements. They are perfect for a clean, energetic vibe.

Discovering Your Preferences.

To find your signature scent, start by exploring each fragrance family to see which resonates most with you. Visit a department store or a specialty perfume shop and sample a variety of scents. Here are some tips to make the most of your sampling experience:

1. Test on Your Skin: Fragrances can smell different on your skin compared to a blotter or in the bottle. Apply a small amount to your wrist or the crook of your elbow to see how it interacts with your body chemistry.

2. Give It Time: Perfumes have top, middle, and base notes that unfold over time. Allow the fragrance to develop for at least 30 minutes before deciding if you like it.

3. Avoid Overwhelming Your Senses: Smelling too many perfumes at once can confuse your sense of smell. Take breaks between sampling, and use coffee beans to reset your olfactory senses.

4. Consider the Season and Occasion: Some scents are more suitable for certain times of the year or specific events. For instance, lighter, citrusy fragrances work well for summer, while richer, spicier scents are perfect for winter.

Analysing Your Lifestyle and Personality.

Your fragrance should align with your lifestyle and personality. Ask yourself the following questions to narrow down your options:

1. What Is My Daily Routine Like? If you have an active lifestyle, you might prefer a fresh, clean scent. If your days are filled with social events, a more sophisticated, alluring fragrance might be appropriate.

2. What Are My Hobbies and Interests? Your interests can also guide your choice. Nature lovers might lean towards woody, earthy scents, while someone who loves cooking might appreciate gourmand fragrances with notes like vanilla or chocolate.

3. How Do I Want to Be Perceived? Fragrances can make powerful statements. Do you want to come across as confident and powerful, or are you aiming for a more relaxed, approachable vibe? Your scent can help convey these attributes.

Signature Scent Selection Process.

Once you've identified your preferences and narrowed down your options, it's time to select your signature scent. Here are some steps to help you finalize your choice:

1. Create a Shortlist: Choose a few scents from different fragrance families that you particularly enjoy. Narrowing it down to three or four options can make the decision easier.

2. Wear Them Regularly: Purchase samples or travel-sized bottles of your shortlisted fragrances and wear them on different days. Pay attention to how they make you feel and the reactions you receive from others.

3. Evaluate Longevity and Sillage: Consider how long the fragrance lasts on your skin and how far it projects. A good signature scent should have a balance of longevity and sillage (the trail left by the scent).

4. Trust Your Instincts: Ultimately, your signature scent should feel like a natural extension of yourself. Trust your instincts and choose the fragrance that resonates most deeply with you.

Caring for Your Fragrance.

Once you've found your signature scent, it's important to take care of it properly to ensure it stays fresh and potent. Store your perfume in a cool, dark place away from direct sunlight and heat, as these elements can degrade the fragrance. Keep the bottle tightly sealed to prevent oxidation.

Finding your signature scent is a journey of self-discovery and expression. By understanding fragrance families, analysing your lifestyle and personality, and testing various scents, you can find a fragrance that truly embodies who you are. Remember, the perfect scent is one that makes you feel confident, happy, and uniquely you. So, take your time, explore different options, and enjoy the aromatic adventure.

[astudyincontrasts]

Imagine silco fucking reader with the handle of a knife 😳

Imagine I actually participated in those five sentence NSFW prompts.

Psyche, its five paragraphs bc you know I don’t fuck with brevity.  

With Pips, the reader OC from Partition:

“Nnnngh!”  You ground down upon the knife, riding both it and the swipe of Silco’s thumb across the swollen torment of your clit, kneeling upon his desk before him, fucking yourself on the knife buried blade down into his blotter, bound hands before you holding your short skirt up for him and bared breasts spilling over the cups of your bra bouncing gently with each little bucking thrust.

It was always this way between you two; needling at each other until one of you broke and let temper get the better of you, and then the real fun began.  You’d overstepped mightily this time, though.  He’d managed to get ahold of one of your knives in your enraged tussle, cut the panties off you and drove it hard into the desk.

Beneath you a puddle had begun to collect, turning the pale green paper of the blotter you knelt on into a slick, dark verdant shade.  The rippled and ridged hilt of the knife with its gently curved pommel, cold when you’d first lowered yourself onto it, now felt molten hot as you rode it.  Silco’s thumb picked up its pace as he watched you in veiled amusement while you gasped and shuddered out the third orgasm he’d managed to wring from you.

He tsked as he eyed the spreading damp upon the blotter and leaned forward to spread your dripping cunt, ready to take up the work of his thumb with his mouth next.  Thighs were trembling with the effort to keep going, and you were sure the second you felt the warm lick of that tongue on overstimulated, throbbing nerves you’d break.  He wasn’t having it, though.

“Don’t stop now, pest.  I told you, this doesn’t end until you’ve soaked that entire paper.”