#patchouli icons

[gensokyogarden]

Meanwhile, at the same time with a much more successful story

(Oh wait I better readmore this)

♪Kiss me♪

♪Oh sir ...♪

♪Ah miss♪

♪Oh sir, if he should marry me Monday what will I do? I'll die of grief♪

♪We fly tonight♪

♪This Friday virtually Sunday What can we do with time so brief♪

♪We fly tonight♪

♪behind the curtain, quick!♪

♪Tonight♪

♪I think I heard a click It was a gate! It's the gate!♪

♪It's not a gate♪

♪We don't have a gate♪

♪There's no gate♪

♪Still there was a♪

♪You don't have a gate♪

♪Wait there's another click You must have heard that♪

♪If you'd only listen miss ... Kiss me!♪

♪TONIGHT?♪

♪Kiss me!♪

♪You mean tonight?♪

♪The plan is made♪

♪Oh, sir♪

♪So kiss me♪

♪I feel a fright♪

♪Be not afraid♪

♪Sir, I did ~ Tonight I'll Love you even as I ~ Steal Saw you, even as it ~ You Did not matter that I ~ Patchouli Did not know your name ~ I'll steal you♪

♪It's me you'll marry on Monday That's what you'll do♪

♪And gladly, sir♪

♪I knew I'd be with you one day Even not knowing who you were ~ Ah miss I feared you'd never come ~ Marry me, marry me, miss That you'd been called away ~ Oh marry me Monday That you'd been killed ~ Favor me, favor me Had the plague ~ With your hand Were in debtor's Jail ~ Promise Trampled by a horse ~ Marry me, marry me Gone to sea again ~ Please, oh, marry me Monday♪

♪Arrested by th-♪

♪Kiss me♪

♪Of course♪

[clock-corpse]

"Look at these animals, fighting each other for land. It's so laughably pathetic just how disorganized they are."

"Quite so, Mistress. They truly do look pitiful."

"That's good and all but, shouldn't this be a time where we start enforcing more security? We already struggle with some Gensokyo residents believing our home to be a hotel, or an amusement park even..."

"There's no need to worry about that. I've already taken the liberty of stationing the fairy knights and taking care of any misshapen intruders."

"Now if you two would excuse me, there are few new animal skins that are in need of drying."

[woahmaaan]

Patchouli’s iconic catchphrase

[hood-ex]

sometimes i think about how the winchesters lives could have been improved if they had driven a van renovated into a tiny home.

like SURE the impala is iconic and you can't beat its aesthetic but a renovated van is MUCH comfier to sleep in. i bet sam would have driven a renovated van

While the image of them in a white kidnapper van is making me cackle rn, I feel like a van home would be worse for them because they'd really only have space for one bed, and they at least had two beds when staying at motels. I'm also wondering if a van is tall enough for Sam to stand in properly lmao. Like is he just gonna be hunched over while making his salad 😭. And I can't help but think Dean would make the connection of like:

"Solving mysteries, hunting monsters in a van... dude. We're like Scooby Doo."

(Laughing bc now I'm thinking about the crossover episode where Dean called the Scooby gang their role models.)

I do think the van would've been funny for them to have during the Soulless Sam era when Dean got abducted by aliens and was like, "I was abducted... and you were banging patchouli."

Ahh good times, good times.

I think on their behalf, I'm just going to have to sacrifice any ease or comfort they could get from a van home because the season 1 aesthetic with the Impala cannot be beat. Also the episode "Baby" is just too good with Dean whipping Baby around the way he did.

[ranchstoryblog]

Merch Alert: Official Story of Seasons-inspired House Wares!

Ever wanted to spruce your house or room up with a little Story of Seasons inspired decor? Well, from now until July 9th, you can preorder a clock, mug, tableware set, and fragrance diffuser set. Each are set to ship in late October.

The desk clock features icons on each hour. They seem to indicate things like when it's time for lunch, read a book, tend the cows, socialize, fish and so on. It also features a matching block calendar, allowing you to track the month, date, season, and day.

The clock is priced at 7,700 yen, which is currently about 48 USD.

Shaped like a milk bottle, the set's fragrance is inspired by "blue feathers," and made with herbs and flowers. The top note is scented after mandarin and rosemary, the middle note is magnolia, nemophilia, and sweet pea, and the last note is amber and patchouli.

The fragrance set is priced at 6,050 yen, which is about 38 USD right now.

A three-piece tableware set featuring a plate, cocotte, and mug. Whether you're having a meal or a snack, the plate has ample space, a little place to nestle the cocette in, and a small decoration featuring cookware. The cocette features a pattern of vegetables, animals, and dairy on its inside rim, and the mug's transparency allows you to change the look of the cow and the heart mark reacts to hot or cold liquid.

The tableware set is priced at 9,900 yen, which is about 62 USD right now.

The page is linked below in the Source link. For people outside Japan, you can probably use a middleman service like "From Japan" to make your order, so get in while you can!

[shintaru]

Signature scent | cologne WB characters wear pt.1

pt.2, pt.3, pt.4

m.list ♡ taglist Dom Kang ~

Acqua Di Gio Giorgio Armani

Fragrance Family:

Woody Aromatic Aquatic

Key Notes:

Marine Notes, Green Mandarin

Sage, Lavendin, Geranium

Vetiver, Patchouli

Fragrance Description: Acqua di Giò Eau de Parfum is a long-lasting cologne for men where marine notes blend with mandarin, sage, vetiver, and patchouli. This men’s fragrance is captured in a refillable bottle and is perfect for lovers of the classic Acqua di Giò olfaction who seek something more intense and long-lasting.

About the Fragrance: Giorgio Armani Acqua di Giò Eau de Parfum is a men’s cologne for the future that is a statement of sustainability focusing on four key pillars: eco-conception of the cologne bottle, refill ability in all sizes, natural and sustainably sourced ingredients, and forest preservation programs in Guatemala.

I smelled this at Sephora it smells like “hot rich daddy that I’d like to fuck” Jay Jo ~

Acqua di Giò Profondo Fragrance Family

Fougere Aromatic Aquatic

Key Notes

Marine Notes

Cypress, Musk

Rosemary, Lavender

About the Fragrance: Profondo explores a different dimension of Acqua di Giò's origins: the deep sea. It has a long-lasting, mysterious trail. I smelled this one at Sephora unfortunately I don’t remember the exact smell but everything I smelled from this brand smelled so good! Minu ~

TOM FORD VANILLA SEXStyle: Warm, spicy, amber. Notes: Vanilla Tincture India, vanilla absolute, sandalwood essence.

Fragrance Description: Vanilla Tincture India, an ingredient created specifically for Vanilla Sex, exudes a soft sensuality. Vanilla reveals a pristine glamour, warmed by mysterious florals and bitter almond essence. A timeless sandalwood quality mingles with enticing tonka absolute and an exquisite Ultravanil™ molecule. 

About the Fragrance: Addictive by nature and glamorous by design, a captivating interplay of deep and bright vanilla notes stars in Vanilla Sex. It’s an unforgettable experience and an icon of sensual pleasure that’s far from innocent. 

Never smelled this one, but I love the scent of vanilla. Every Tom Ford cologne that I’ve smelly has always smelled good. I love vanilla, so I have a feeling Minu would smell like vanilla Vinny ~

it depends on which crew he is with. if he is with humming bird he would smell like a mix of Dom, Jay, and Minu’s cologne due to them sleeping over so much. Dom & (Jay acqu di go, minu vanilla sex) if it’s sabbath crew then he would smell like Wooin. Wooin ~

Dior Sauvage (it autocorrected to sausage at first, just thought y'all should know)

Fragrance Family

Citrus & Woods

Key Notes

Bergamot

Vanilla

Nutmeg

Fragrance Description: This cologne is a sensual composition of spicy Calabrian bergamot, nutmeg, and vanilla absolute for a smoky accent. Inspired by the magic hour of twilight in the desert.

About the Fragrance: "I didn't create Eau de Parfum Sauvage by working on power. Its signature is already very identifiable. It was not a matter of exaggerating or saturating the composition. I was striving more to enrich each of the dominant notes to give it a new color."—François Demachy, Dior Perfumer-Creator

I smelled this one at the mall it’s strong ASF but it smells good. You could smell it from a mile away no joke 😭😭 Joker ~

Like Vinny, Joker would smell like Wooin (Dior savage) I don’t see him buying cologne since he works to take care of his brothers but I feel Wooin refuses to go around with him smelling like sweat from fights or just like their shampoo and body wash so he would let him use his cologne. But boxers use baby powder for their gloves so he’d smell like that.

Dedicated to @cozyunderworld @samuelseowife @inosukehana @ankita607

[chronically-ghosted]

Have Yourself a Moreno Little Christmas

rating: T

pairing: marcus moreno x f!reader

word count: 6K

summary: when the Morenos' happy Christmas is in jeopardy, you think quick and invite them on a trip to an old family tradition. If he’s grateful, would it be safe to tell him how you feel? But why do you think he might already know? What if he feels the same way?

warnings: heavily influenced by the movie While You Were Sleeping, your typical amount of angst for a romcom, mutual pining, ballet in the park, a moody pre-teen, brief discussions of losing a loved one (parent/partner), bad dad jokes, canoodling in the park, one steamy kiss and a few other softer ones

a/n: Happy Secret Santa @noisynaia! You had Marcus M as your number one Pedro boy of choice, and given that I’d never written for him before, I wanted to do something wholesome and sweet in the world of super heroes. The Nutcracker has always been near and dear to me so I hope you like this take on it! @pedrostories

This will be my last fic of 2023 so - much love, stay warm, and happy holidays! 🤍Masterlist

What do you get a man who has everything for Christmas? A tie? A money clip? Something aggressively manly that smells like woodsmoke, patchouli oil, and the raw sweat of a lumberjack after felling a thousand forests?

What do you get a superhero for Christmas? Indestructible tights? A decorative plaque for his swords? A life-time supply of gauze and iodine? 

What do you get for your boss, superpowered and single, with the ability to turn a paperclip into a rose? A silver ball into a flat pancake? Decorative swords into deadly weapons? What do you get him that is even remotely useful or exciting or heartwarming when he is so busy with being a single father and mentor, a symbol and an icon, all while running the world’s foremost superhero operation? 

Somehow, “world’s best boss” mug feels rather . . . subpar. 

What do you get him if he’s become one of your closest friends? When you try to wiggle some sort of information out of him about a potential gift on one of the many long nights where you’re stuck together doing paperwork for the UN and the NSA – but he is annoyingly vague. 

His daughter – a fiery mix of headstrong and thoughtful, soothed by a loving kindness that clearly runs in the family – is no help. She teases you with promises “oh yeah, definitely get him a new spatula” when you both know the man has never been anywhere near a BBQ grill. You give her the rest of the Reeses that didn’t make it into the community candy bowl anyway. 

You can’t ask for ideas from his mother, or his teammates, the security guards at the headquarter doors, anyone with eyes (who’s not ten years old) because then they’ll know, you sure of it. They’ll see and that’s just not something you can ever, ever, ever bring up because . . . 

What do you get for a man who is your boss, a superhero, a leader, a father, your boss, a very close friend, your boss, someone you very much admire . . . and as a result, have fallen deeply, painfully, achingly in love with?

Your still beating heart on a silver platter seems like the obvious choice. A bowl of your tears for unrequited love is a definitely strong second option. A lock of your hair so the FBI can easily identify you as his certifiably insane stalker – there we go, brilliant idea. 

A kiss under the mistletoe? A promise for more? 

That damned mug is looking better and better every day.

You knock three times, then one more before opening the door. Behind unnecessarily thick glasses, Marcus glances up, life returning to his face when his eyes fall on you.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but the president of Belize is on line one for you.” 

The man with sticky, molded blonde hair sitting across from Marcus turns around and smiles. His teeth are freakishly white, all stacked together in tight, proper rows. His suit, freshly pressed and clean of any evidence of interaction with the world, carries a giant button on the lapel: Vote Tine!

“President of Belize, my, my, Mr. Moreno, you are a busy man!”

Marcus stands, his gaze peeling off you to the politician in front of him. “Mr. Tine, I apologize, but I have to cut this meeting short–,”

“Ah, it’s no trouble at all!” He stands, batting his hand through the air. “Just as long as we’ll see you at the next rally, right, Marcus?” 

He holds out a perfectly square hand and with a tight-lipped grin, Marcus shakes Tine’s hand. 

“We’ll see, Senator.”

“Wonderful, wonderful, alright, I’ll get out of your hair. Mr. Moreno . . .” he bows slightly before turning in the direction of the door. You catch a glimpse of him the instant the smarmy smile slides off his face as, with wolf-ish eyes, he evaluates you from your ankles to the candy-cane broach on your chest. You don’t smile as you shut the door after him – as if you’d be bothered by greasy politicians and their wandering eyes. 

Marcus all but slumps back in his chair before taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes with his palms.

“Every time election season comes around, they all want the Heroics’ vote. Until Miracle Guy chucks Dr. Evil through the Empire State Building and suddenly it’s ‘we need these vigilantes off our streets’ . . .” He shakes his head and slips his glasses back on, watching as you take the vacated seat. “Sorry, none of this is your problem. What does the president of Belize want?”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better,” you say, tapping the corner of your pad with your stylus, “his slogan sucks. Justine Tine – just in time. I’m not unconvinced he didn’t change his name for the sake of a cheesy one-liner.” 

A small smile cracks open the dreary look on Marcus’s face. His eyes flicker to the door. “Seems like the type, doesn’t he? I think you’re onto something.” 

“So that’s item one, for the day.” You stand, curling your pad into your arms, you lean on Marcus’s desk, knee against the edge. 

He stares intently at your face. 

“Number two, I just checked our records and there’s no Dr. Evil anywhere in our data banks. The Empire State building is safe, for now, so you can stop worrying about that.” 

You mime-checking off something on your pad and the grin on Marcus’s face softens. 

“And number three . . .” you pick up the phone on his desk, that suspiciously doesn’t have any blinking red lights. Marcus frowns, noticing this for the first time, when you lift up the receiver and drop it down. His mouth parts.

“Belize has a monarchy. A king, not a president.” 

The frown deepens. You wait. And light parts the sky. 

“Oh. Oh – you didn’t – that’s – really?”

His eyes are round, wide, relieved, and you want nothing more than to run your hands through those curls. To rub those broad shoulders loose of their tension. But rearranging meetings and make up fake world leaders to give him a break is the best you can do. 

“Yes, really. The Heroics are prepared to make a sizable donation to Tine’s cause, and he will thank us at his next rally. So, Mr. Moreno, your next meeting isn’t for another hour, how would you like to spend it?” You smile, tapping your hanging shoe on the ball of your foot. “I suggest using it to eat something. Have you eaten anything today?” 

Marcus sighs, eyes falling shut for just a moment. “What, and I mean this from the bottom of my heart, would I do without you?” 

You avert your eyes before the heat in your cheeks climbs too high, his eyes on you, and you hop off his desk. 

“Would you, hmm,” you clear your throat, your voice cracking in half, “would you like me to order something and have it delivered, Mr. Moreno?” 

He’s chewing on the skin below his lip when you raise your head from the pad in your arms. Being indestructible is one thing; having his face entirely inscrutable is one of Marcus’s most impressive superpowers. He nods, the look of distant contemplation gone. He flips through a few of the notes you’ve left him on his desk – calls to return, items for next week, reports he needs to sign: busy work. 

“Yeah, uh, that’s great. Pick something up for yourself too.” 

The mood has soured and you’re not quite sure how or why it happened. A second ago Marcus looked like he was going to pick you up and twirl you around the room. Now, he doesn’t want anything to do with you. You nervously tap your stylus against your pad. 

“Yes, Mr. Moreno.” 

You turn to go, his head down, his gaze fixated on whatever isn’t you, when he calls out your name again.

“Oh, um, did you manage to get anything out of Missy abour what she wants for Christmas when she was here last Friday?” 

You pause, remembering the uncharacteristically morose girl spinning listlessly in your chair while you watched from the break room as the hot cocoa warmed up in the microwave. You’d never seen so much as a pout on the girl before and no matter what you did, she didn’t crack a single smile.

“No, she didn’t tell me anything, but . . .” Now this is the part of your job that you loathe the most: trying to figure out the line. You saw Marcus as a friend, absolutely, but it’s not like you went and played volleyball on the beach with him, or went bar-hopping, or whatever it is adults with friends do. You love Missy more than you thought you could ever care about a child who isn’t your own, but you wavered how much to press her on her mood, because how did she see you? Nothing more than her father’s employee, most likely. In the end, you ended up getting one word answers from her until Marcus left his office thirty minutes later. 

But here you go, overstepping boundaries . . .

“Mr. Moreno, is she alright? The last time she was here, she seemed . . . I don’t know, sad?”

Marcus’s jaw tightened, his eyes sharpened. You opened your mouth to profusely apologize when –

“Fuck.” Marcus tosses his glasses onto his desk and buries his head in his hands. The instinct to put your arms around him is so strong you take a step forward before you remember exactly who you are. 

How do you comfort the man you love when you shouldn’t love him at all? How do you comfort a superhero, when he’s a father first and human second?

Keeping the desk firmly between you, you drop your pad onto one of the chairs and as slowly as you dare, you touch his forearm. He leans, not away, but towards you. He lowers his arms as you keep your touch on him. You squeeze once, looking down at his hopeless expression. 

“What’s wrong? Did something happen with Missy?”

Marcus shifts his arm beneath your fingers, his fingers twitching, as if he wants to take your hand but instead puts his other hand over yours.

“This Christmas has just been really hard.” 

The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them: “tell me.”

He looks up at you, eyes warm and wide in a way that only his can. Indestructible in the face of evil, inscrutable with his secrets, Marcus’s greatest weakness is Missy, and he knows it. You know you’re crossing a dozen professional lines leaning over him like you are, touching him like you are, asking him to open up. But you don’t care.

He presses his lips together, hesitant. He won’t look you in the eye. “You have to understand something first. Missy’s mom loved Christmas.”

His hand over yours tightens gently as if he thinks you’re going to pull away. You hadn’t considered it but your palm went a little damp at the mention of her. 

Oh God, you’ve so played your hand wrong.

Marcus inhales, his gaze on your knuckles. “Isabel, that was her name, and every year Isabel made Christmas this big event. And every Christmas she bought Missy a little nutcracker. Missy was barely out of diapers at the time, I don’t think she even knew what they were, but she loved them. Thought they were the funniest things with their teeth and stuffy white hair . . . but he other day, going through the decoration box, Missy found them all and I guess she suddenly remembered all those Christmases with her mom and she, uh . . .” 

He taps your wrist with his thumb, a tell he has when he’s nervous. The seat squeaks slightly as he adjusts himself in it.

“I haven’t been putting out the nutcrackers that Isabel gave Missy. The Christmas after she died, I couldn’t bring myself to put out any sort of real decorations, except for the tree. Missy was so young, I don’t think she cared. But as she got older, she never asked about the nutcrackers so I hoped she just . . . forgot about them. And she did, until she found them last Friday.”

“Last Friday?” You feel like you’ve been sucking on cotton. “Before she came to the office?”

Marcus nods. 

“Oh, M-Mar-Mr. Moreno, I’m so sorry. That’s terrible.” 

“She was furious that I tried to hide something of her mother’s from her. And she’s right. I was a coward.” 

This move is an intentional one. You slip your hand out from his and cup his fingers around yours, as if guiding him. He finally looks up at you, guilt and shame and grief streaking his face like blurry rain against a window pane. 

“You are the bravest man I know, Marcus Moreno. You’re a superhero and a single father. Most people can barely handle one. She’ll come around, I promise.” 

You swallow the urge to bring his knuckles to your lips, and instead squeeze both of his hands and let go. You slide away from the desk, your heart tight in your chest when his thumbs pass over the palm of your hand. The look on his face is disappointed, you want to believe.

“Thank you. For listening and, uh, everything else. You’re right. I’ll just . . . well, I don’t know what I’ll do but I’ll figure something out.” He leans back, elbows on the chair’s handles. Marcus Moreno, or what you know of him, doesn’t like to dwell, so you watch some of the heaviness shift from his eyes the moment he decides to change the subject. “What are you doing for Christmas? Are you staying in town? Going to see family – or a boyfriend?”

The warm in your chest, lingering from his hands, suddenly bolts across your face. “No, no, um, no, there’s no one –,” Would it be pathetic if you fanned yourself with your pad? God, how does the man work in here for hours with no fresh air? “No, I’m not going home to anyone but I am . . .”

And suddenly there it is. A solution to your Christmas present debacle and maybe a way to save Christmas for Missy Moreno.

You shake your head, beating back the rising heat in your cheeks. “Actually, are you and Missy doing anything this weekend?”

Marcus seems taken aback from this sudden turn in the conversation.

“Um, no. I don’t think so. Why do you ask?”

“If you’ll let me, I’d like to show you and Missy something really, really special.” 

You swear the tips of his ears go pink. “Uh, okay. Sure. I-I’ll have to clear it with Missy, but yeah, alright. What time?”

“I’ll put it in your calendar.” You smile and slip your stylus back into your pad. “Have a nice lunch, Mr. Moreno.” 

He shakes his head and scratches the back of his neck as you head for the door. 

“How many times do I have to ask you to call me, Marcus? 

You pause with your handle on the door. “At least once more, Mr. Moreno.”

The mug drops to last place.

Good news. 

If you’re ever stranded on a desert island, you’ll survive because you are already intimately familiar with the taste of your own foot in your mouth.

Why did you open with “Hey Missy, your dad tells me you’ve been having a rough Christmas?” to a sullen, grieving pre-teen? 

And can time actually go slower, when the air is so stifled with tension? When you’re absolutely sure you’re breathing too loud?

You’ve been glancing at Missy in the rear view mirror for the dozenth time in twice as many miles. Her face is turned towards the window so you can’t actually see the murderous rage in her eyes, but oh wow do you feel it. Nevermind superpowers, this little girl could char you to a crisp with her eyes alone. Potential step-mom failure award goes to . . . 

“So.” Marcus clears his throat and you tear your eyes back from the back of his daughter’s head. The fraught silence of the car stretches just long enough after Marcus’s statement to grate ever so gently – “um, how do you, uh, know about this place? Wherever, we’re going.” 

You bite the corner of your mouth. Marcus doesn’t appear angry that you’ve soured the mood with Missy before the drive even began. In fact, he looks genuinely curious, the light in his eyes bright. If it weren’t for that single line between his brows, you assume nothing is wrong, but you know that almost frown. Marcus is anxious. 

Great. 

You settle back in your seat, trying to look as relaxed as you can in a pillowy jacket, your hat and gloves in Marcus’s lap, along with his own. The snow outside stopped falling only a few minutes ago, lining the trees and road with a crisp sparkling white. If anything, it ended up being a beautiful day. 

You flex your hand around the steering wheel, trying to summon courage up through your body like your lungs inhale air. 

“It’s an old family tradition, actually. My folks would take us out here every year to watch . . . to watch the show.” You glance at him briefly before checking to see if that piqued anything from the roiling black cloud in the back. It didn’t. You hadn’t told either one of the Morenos your plans for this Christmas day. “But I haven’t been back in a while.”

“Why not? And please don’t say it's because of work.” The lilt in his voice has you looking at him, long enough to watch a small smile uncurl. You really thought it was impossible for Marcus Moreno to get any cuter, but with his woolen floppy cap covering his ears and the little white bob at the end fluttering in the warm heater air, you force yourself to remember you’re driving a 3000 pound metal death machine if you stare, starry-eyed, for too long. 

“No, it’s not because of work,” you grin back and his own crosses completely across his mouth. “It’s not work related . . . but um, after my parents passed away, my brother and sister moved across the country.” Your hands crinkle around the steering wheel. “I’ve spent most of my Christmas’s alone ever since. Coming here without them, i-it felt . . . wrong.”

In the rear view mirror, you think you see her move.

“That’s terrible. I’m sorry.” The weight of Marcus’s gaze, his own planetary gravitational pull, has your nose drawing down then over. He looks genuinely regretful of your situation and you’re suddenly hit with the understanding that not only did Missy lose a mother, but Marcus lost a wife. 

Hell, maybe you can just continue up the bone and eat your whole leg while you’re at it. 

“Mhm hmm.”

The rest of the car right goes on in silence, except for the faint, ghost-like christmas carols playing from the speakers through your phone. 

When you pull off the dirt road and park your car in the cold grass with dozens of other vehicles, you can’t unbuckle fast enough. The patches of icy dead grass snap beneath your boots as you climb out of the car, and you’re struck in the face with a chilly wind. 

The words are on your tongue as you look at him over the hood of the car, the breeze snagging the little puff ball on the end of his cap, his glasses already misting over.

I’m so sorry, Marcus, this was such a bad idea. 

I don’t know how to talk about my grief or anyone else's and it’s been drowning me for years but I don’t want to pull you down with me. 

I’ll drive you anywhere you want I’m so– 

“Is this the Stanley Amphitheater?” Marcus takes off his glasses and rubs the condensation away. “This is where they have that jazz festival every summer, right?”

You’re so surprised by his tone that all you can do is blurt out: “yes.”

“So cool! I’ve actually been dying to check this place out!”

“Y-yeah?”

He smiles at you and you have to grab onto the door frame to keep your knees from buckling. 

“C’mon, Missy.” 

Tugging his hat further over his head, Marcus lopes forward and then he turns and reaches out for his daughter. The moment arcs, Missy’s stone faced glare demanding that he drop his hand, that he turn away from her, an inch away from leaving a mark that aches in a way that only a loving parent can feel from their loved child –

And she takes his hand. 

You watch them follow the crowd, blanket in hand, just a few steps behind them, and you breathe out.

Across the stone amphitheater, a low murmur of dozens of eager voices vibrate in the dugout cup of the earth. Children squirm with anticipation in their parents’ laps, couples share lingering gazes over steaming styrofoam cups of hot chocolate, an air of excitement and delight hovering between chapped lips and knitted gloves as the sun arcs lower in the sky. Just in front of the large stage, a live orchestra prepares, discordant cords breaking and rising like smoke. 

A man in a striped hat sells buttery popcorn and sweet, crunchy kettle corn in a small wooden hut a distance from the theater. A few families wait in line, children teasing one another behind their parents, their laughter light on the breezy air. 

“So, what is this?” Your head whips around at Missy’s first sentence all day. Marcus looks at you equally stunned. The blanket you’ve spread across three laps keeps you intentionally close so you have to lean back slightly to see her face.

“It’s, um–,”

“Missy, do you like ballet?” You ask

Beneath her maroon hat, her eyes lift up, her back straightening from its hunch. You wouldn’t call her look eager, but you cannot deny there’s interest. 

She nods. 

“Well, what we’re about to see is a very special ballet performance. Some people who have powers like your dad, they don’t go into crime fighting. Instead, they use their powers to make art.” 

She blinks, eyes widening. “What do you mean?”

“You’ll have to wait and see.” 

The fringe smile is hidden by a curtain of hair as Missy tilts her head down to her shoes, nodding. Marcus glances at you over the wool of her hat, surprise thinning the lines around his eyes.

“It’s getting kind of cold,” he says slowly, to no one in particular. “Anyone want some hot chocolate?”

“I do,” you wave. Missy nods, grumbling. 

Marcus waves over a woman in a striped hat as she wanders through the crowd. The metal box, hanging around her neck and strapped to her back reads, refreshments. 

He pays for three styrofoam cups just as the lights in the back of the amphitheater flicker and the orchestra winds down to silence. 

Despite the burgeoning chill in the air, and despite the grief dividing yet binding the three of you, and despite the fact that this may be your one chance for Marcus to see you as anything other than his assistant, you’re hopeful. Maybe it’s the music itself, that way that music has to ignite your soul when you need it the most, or maybe it’s the spirit of the season, but for the first time in a long, long time, you don’t feel so lonely. In fact, you can’t remember a time you’ve felt more connected than you do with the people next to you. 

Missy’s eyes are bright, flitting around the stage as if determined to not miss a single thing, the cocoa in her hands leaving a dark rim around her mouth that she is blissfully ignorant of. That already full feeling in your chest expands and you want nothing more than to hug her, hug her till she’s warm and hug her till she’s happy. Behind her, her father moves and it catches your eye.

Marcus has never looked at you before the way he is now. Inscrutable, undefined, but it packs such a punch in your chest it feels like you gulped down your entire cup of hot chocolate in one go. You turn away, fearful of what he might see in your eyes, and realize the enormity of what you feel, how it’s all consuming and tugs at you when you least expect it. 

The music begins to swell just as the sun sets and the lights at the rim of the theater fade. You take a shaky inhale – nerves and excitement and memories good and bad weighing on your shoulders. 

And then it begins to snow. 

But not from the sky and it’s not yet cold enough for the consistent sprinkle. Snowflakes tangle with your eyelashes, in the wool of your cap. Then Missy gasps as a translucent ice crystal the size of her palm trickles down into her lap. Glinting like glass, the intricate design of the crystal flashes once before disappearing – not melting – just gone. Around you, other children hold out, giggling their hands as more beautiful flakes of enormous size flutter down from the inexplicable snow drift. A few adults reach out to grab some that burst like bubbles, a wondrous awe crescendoing across the crowd. 

From the wings of the stage, a man and a woman, dressed in beautiful light blues and silvers, silks glittering with inset shimmering stones, walk across the stage, their arms moving slowly, thoughtfully. 

In sync, they coax the air and the snow follows in a dance of white. Delighted shouts rise up as the snow and ice spin together, arcing and weaving, capturing the essence of a winter wind. The pair on stage bend, their hands flung backwards in a bow and the ball of snow shatters in an icy solar flare, the million white flakes fluttering over the crowd. 

Out of the exhilarated murmur that overtakes the crowd, one noise stands out above the rest. 

Missy laughs. She laughs as she watches a snowflake melt on the end of her nose. 

You wish desperately you could squeeze her to you.

The crowd applauds the snow dancers, bowing again before exiting the stage, as a woman in black steps out. Her short-cropped hair is nearly as white as the snow still melting on the ground and her eyes are crinkled at the edges. When she speaks, her voice booms without the aid of a mic. 

“Thank you and welcome to another annual Stanley Kirby production of The Nutcracker.”

Missy’s smile doesn’t fall from her face. In fact it widens. Your heart is pounding in your chest, as you watch her from the corner of your eye.

“I’ve been directing this play for twenty years now and I can honestly say I find something new and beautiful about it every time. Winter is often seen as the end stage, symbolized through literature and poetry as the time when we humans grow old. But I like to think that doesn’t always have to be true. Spirit, however you like to think of it, is exactly that: an endurance, a bravery, a force greater than ourselves that we can either embrace or let slide through our fingers. We hope you leave today with a little bit more spirit in you. Thank you for coming and we hope you enjoy the show.” 

She bows as two men enter in from the wings, these dressed in brown and green, the crowd clapping for both the director and the new players. 

A little girl, in ballet shoes and a pink dress with ruffles, her hair down to her back and tied out of her face with a bow, joins them on the stage and sits down in the center as the heavy velvet curtains pull back to reveal a backdrop imitating a hallway. With a large door, two round, gilded mirrors and a single chair. 

The orchestra begins, the dancers lifting their hands with a wave of a conductor. 

Shadows flicker at the back of the theater, eliciting shocked, almost horrified gasps from the crowd. But you know what’s coming. You don’t turn around. You smile.

Beside you both Missy and Marcus stare, mouths open, as eleven foot tall wooden nutcrackers amble down the stone steps between the seats, their knees stocky, their weight uneven as they march towards the stage. Their giant mouths creak and groan as the switch on their backs moves without any visible force. The green and red paint shines in the lights from the stage, their silver buttons glowing like stars. The dancers in brown coax them closer with a curl of their fingers and a bend in their arms. They begin to sway and spin across the stage, their legs outstretched and their feet curved into satin shoes, the little girl paying them no mind. Instead, she gets on her knees and waves to the marching soldiers.

More awed gasps as now teddy bears then porcelain dolls, the size of elephants, follow the nutcrackers down the steps, the orchestra keeping time and building a sense of whimsy and joy. The little girl bounds to the edge of the stage as the first wave of soldiers approaches. With a kiss from her hand into the wind, the first nutcracker freezes and then shrinks, the dancer behind the girl flicking his wrist. The crowd hums with delight as the nutcracker, now the size of a toy, floats next to the chair. One by one, the little girl greets the marching toys just before they shrink and find a place next to the chair. 

With the last doll fluttering in the wind as it settles, the little girl spins and twirls until she drops into the chair and seemingly to sleep.

The crowd roars with joy, a thunderous applause swelling in the amphitheater. 

But, best of all, Missy is on her feet, cheering and clapping. Her face glows in the light of the stage, her eyes bright and hopeful, her cheeks pink and chapped. In the shadows that flicker of people moving and applauding, beyond Missy’s curly hair, Marcus stares at you in a way that makes your heart grow bigger with every beat, his own silent music swelling the cage of your ribs. 

He reaches out his hand for you and you take it. 

He keeps holding you long after Missy sits down and the ballet continues.

A nearby park has set up Christmas lights in the trees and on the pathway. Missy, after promising to stay close, has gone and disappeared in the dark, off playing with a few of the other children who stayed after the show was over. 

Families sit on benches under covered awnings, the dark night cold but not encroaching, a food truck selling churros and Mexican hot chocolate mystifying the chilly air into white puffs as they serve eager mouths and cold hands. 

You walk the lighted path with Marcus, your arm tucked up around his. 

The sounds of children laughing fill the comfortable silence between you two. 

“This is going to be embarrassingly underwhelming,” he says quietly, the warmth of his body enough to keep a shiver at bay. “But thank you. That was incredible. I mean, I’ve seen The Nutcracker before, but this . . .”

He trails off, shaking his head, awe curling his mouth open.

“It’s pretty fantastic, right?” You smile up at him and squeeze his arm. 

He closes his mouth just as his eyebrows jump.

“Kinda makes me wonder if I picked the wrong profession, if other people are using their powers like that.” 

You chuckle lowly. “Ha, as if there’s anything you could be except a superhero.” 

“What do you mean?” The tone in his voice makes you pause. Just around the curve of the path, you’re hidden by silver-dripped trees and frost-covered shrubs. No children run here and the lights on the path are muffled by the overgrowth.

His eyes are dark when you look into them, but dark in the way under the covers of your parents bed is dark, or the dark in your friend’s mouths when they’re torn open with laughter. Dark in a way that holds and comforts and sinks deep. White mist puffs from his chapped lips, nose pink and cold. The lint from his scarf has stuck to the base of his neck. 

“You have to save people. It’s who you are. I don’t believe for a second there’s any part of you that could sit by and watch terrible things happen to good people. Your powers don’t change that.” You swallow, fingering the snaps on his coat as you stand face to face, the decision to say the words on your tongue nearly splitting you apart. “You saved me. If that counts for anything. You saved me from being alone on another really shitty Christmas and I–,”

The soft but determined press of his lips against yours brings silence to the grove, your words dissipating into the air like snowflakes. The whole of the world narrows down to the sensation of his mouth on yours; you forget the cold, the chilly burn on your cheeks, the sweat on your hairline where your woolen cap sits. You forget the sound of people in the distance, forget the lights in the darkness. He kisses like he works, methodically, confidently, and with intention.

His well-kept mustache tickles your nose, his lips a little torn from the cold, but the heat of his mouth warms you to your core. He holds you, his scratchy mitten against your cheek, the rest of him staying perfectly still, letting you savor his touch, commit the shape of his mouth, and by the quietest of moans rumbling in his chest, you think he might be doing the same. 

In the split second where you think he’s going to pull back, he cups the back of your head in his glove, sealing the hair around your shoulders to the collar of your jacket. Emboldened by your soft inhale, he turns his head, opening his mouth and more of himself up to you, and you, in turn, run as far as you can with this. You slip your arms around his scarf, trying to get at the heat of his throat, as he gathers as much as he can of you into him. 

You aren’t sure who eases you both back down from the clouds, who lifts hands and pulls apart, but your mouths separate, your noses inches from each other, and great plumes of white mist rise from your heated gasps.

“So I’m not crazy,” he murmurs, his eyes nearly completely hidden behind condensation. “There is something here. You feel it too.”

“Yes, Marcus, God, yes.” You close your eyes and bump your head against his as he sniffs in the cold, his cheeks flaming.

“That’s what it takes to get you to call me Marcus, huh? A kiss that knocks your socks off?”

You shake your head, laughing, your nose seeking out the solace of his warm skin. “‘Knocks your socks off’, you’re such a dad.” 

“Yeah, I am. And you made my daughter happier than I’ve seen her in weeks. I’ll never forget that.” 

The heavy rasp of his voice has your eyes seeking out his. You can’t quite find what you’re looking for behind the glasses, but his relaxed open mouth, the tilt of his head down to you, begs for more.

“W-wait – wait, Marcus.” You fight the sudden spark of images flying across your mind; his bare hands, free of gloves and mittens and wool, lifts your shirt up and those soft lips imprint themselves on the curve of your stomach; scorching water turns his back bright red as he tugs your knees tighter around his waist don’t worry I’ve got you; waking up to him stretched out naked and loose and finally relaxed. Your heart squeezes at the mere fantasy. Everything you’ve ever wanted, inches from your outstretched fingertips. “Are you serious about this?” 

Marcus grins, kisses your nose, and pulls you in by your scarf, as if you could possibly get any closer.

“Yes, I’m sure. Very sure. I haven’t made a choice this easy in years. Wait, I want to look you in the eyes when I say this.” He lets you go only to smear the condensation away from his glasses. Remind him to wear his contacts the next time you go out in the snow. 

Next time next time next time

“There.” He slips those thick-framed glasses back over his nose and then takes your hand. He holds it near his heart. “I like you and my kid adores you. I’ve been slowly going crazy at my desk, hoping that the way you smile at me is only for me, and that you don’t know anyone else’s coffee order by heart.” You huff a laugh, if only to loosen the knot in your throat. “What? I’m serious.” He chuckles with you before taking you into your arms again. His lips are warm against your forehead. “I’ve had it bad for you ever since you started, but I never said anything because I knew you were new to the city and you didn’t need your boss crypt-keeping on you.”

“I think the correct term the kids use is just creeping, but I get your point.” You tilt your head up into his waiting gaze. Warm like chocolate. Warm like the sturdy earth. Warm like . . . “And if my employment is the only thing keeping us apart, then I totally quit.”

“Good, ‘cause you’re totally fired.” 

You both laugh into each other, mist rising from your mouths, the corners of your mouths splitting in the cold. The temperature is steadily dropping, but you can’t seem to care. In fact, one big gust of wind could blow you away, suddenly lighter than air. 

“So does this mean I don’t have to get you a World’s Greatest Boss gift?”

He kisses your cheek and you feel it in your toes. “You’ve already given me exactly what I wanted.” 

“Merry Christmas, Marcus.”

“Merry Christmas, baby.”

[ve1il]

Here is a list of perfumes that i think Nanami would wear.

Before starting let me explain my vision. The perfumes on this list vary between very strong scents and fresh ones, i feel he would have this big collection of perfumes and he would choose very wisely and planned for which occasion or when he feels like using it and of course he has a very refined taste.

(Everything here came from the sephora site, if you guys want to check it out)

TOM FORD Ombré Leather

Fragrance Family: Warm & Spicy

Scent Type: Woody Spices

Key Notes: Black Leather, Violet Flower, Jasmine Flower

Fragrance Description: A distinct floral leather, Ombre Leather Parfum intensifies the original scent, fusing heated leather florals with woods. This perfume merges black leather with powerful violet leaf and sensual cedarwood laced with a hint of green tobacco—capturing the unbridled sensuality of the American west.

$275.00

JO MALONE Wood Sage & Sea Salt Cologne

Fragrance Family: Earthy & Woody

Scent Type: Earthy Green & Herbs

Key Notes: Ambrette Seeds, Sea Salt, Sage

Fragrance Description: Enwrapping and joyful. Windswept walks along the beach, the air fresh with sea salt, the mineral scent of rugged cliffs and earthiness of sage.

$165.00

CLEAN RESERVE Reserve - rain

Fragrance Family: Fresh

Scent Type: Fresh Aquatics

Key Notes: Bergamot, White Flower, Vetiver

Fragrance Description: This unique unisex perfume captures the dewy scent that lingers in the air after a lush rainfall. Crisp, watery cucumber notes and airy musk blend with vetiver and patchouli adding a touch of earthiness to create the calming scent you inhale walking in the woods after a passing rain.

$110.00

ARMANI BEAUTY Armani cold parfum

Fragrance Family: Earthy & Woody

Scent Type: Citrus & Woods

Key Notes: Mandarin Essence, Bergamot Essence, Rosemary Essence, Vanilla Extract, Cedar Wood Essence

Fragrance Description: The Code Le Parfum rewrites the code of a timeless masculine fragrance, infusing the powerful and seductive signature tonka bean with fresh scent notes of iris, sage, and bergamot, to create a woody aromatic fragrance blend that is long-lasting and uniquely distinctive.

$144.00

YVES SAINT LAURENT L'Homme

Fragrance Family: Earthy & Woody

Scent Type: Citrus & Woods

Key Notes: Bitter Orange, Oakwood, Vetiver

Fragrance Description: L’Homme Eau de Parfum is a warm and woody men's cologne inspired by an orange bourbon sour. Sparkling bitter orange creates tension with the warmth of bourbon notes from oakwood infusion and vetiver, reinventing the iconic L'Homme signature in a more intense version with a sensual trail.

$129.00

TOM FORD Oud wood

Fragrance Family: Earthy & Woody

Scent Type: Classic Woods

Key Notes: Rare Oud Wood, Sandalwood, Chinese Pepper

Fragrance Description: A composition of exotic, smoky woods including rare oud, sandalwood, rosewood, eastern spices, and sensual amber—revealing oud‘s rich and compelling power.

$295.00

(I’m planning on doing with other jjk’s character too so stay tuned)

[missoneminute]

Continuing my journey through combining my two obsessions - perfume and The Libertines. In this edition, fragrances directly linked to the band in various ways.

London by Burberry - Notes of Honeysuckle, Jasmine, Musk and Sandalwood. Released in 2006. This is for lovers - of London. The imagery around this chic and clean little affair has always been a romantic postcard to the city that birthed it, and the iconic checked Burberry fabric wrapped around the bottle itself speaks to the rebirth of that heritage trend made edgy and new - most beautifully showcased in the infamous prison gates photos in 2003, where Peter and Carl each wore a matching Burberry trench and passed a Burberry scarf between them. Fake, probably, but that iconography was the absolute height of indie rock fashion.

Bluebell by Penhaligon's - Notes of Lily-of-the-Valley, Cyclamen, Cloves and Cinnamon. Released in 1978. Widely reported as a favourite perfume of Kate Moss during the time she and Peter were dating. I may not be much of a fan of hers, but who didn't want to know what Pete Doherty's girlfriend smelled like? Earthy, with its crushed flowers and herbs, a tad exclusive, with it's fancy lineage and posh price, but genuinely vintage - this was the exact sort of scent an indie girl in the 2000s picked if she wanted to stand out from the crowd.

Opium Pour Homme by Yves Saint Laurent - Notes of Black Currant, Star Anise, Bourbon Vanilla and Cedar. Released in 1995. Named by Peter as his favourite fragrance in the 2000s. I've never known if he was kidding, given the name - but this is a scent that absolutely suits him, and is my favourite for men of all time. Opening with bright, juicy berries, drying down into sweet vanilla and rich spice, it's an addictive potion that suits its moniker and defies the astringent, bathroom cleaner trend in men's fragrance with a high fashion dazzle that takes some courage to wear.

Bottega Veneta by Bottega Veneta - Notes of Bergamot, Jasmine, Leather and Patchouli. Released in 2011. This is a personal entry, as it's the one perfume that has gotten me a compliment from a Libertine. I am an aggressive over-sprayer, but only this one has elicited a comment, from Carl, after he embraced me following the Sharabang gig in 2018. "You smell amazing!" he said, to which I replied, "I think it's the leather", meaning the leather notes in the fragrance. "Leather?" he replied, completely confused. I didn't get a chance to elaborate, but this is indeed a leather bomb - loud like a brand new jacket, or better yet luxurious heels straight out of their box, with the crisp deliciousness of bergamot making it syrupy and lending a mouth-watering air. Tragically discontinued.

Comme des Garcons 2 Man by Comme des Garcons - Notes of Smoke, Betiver, Saffron, Leather and Incense. Released in 2004. One of the fragrances Carl mentioned wearing in the 2000s. A churchy, waxy, smoky scent that brings to mind a snuffed candle and is very evocative of the year it was released. Makes absolute sense that it's one he'd enjoy, leaning both into an esoteric side with it's midnight potions of nutmeg and mint, and a rock 'n' roll core with it's leather and incense - reminiscent of the intoxicating mix of sweat, tobacco and leather you'll find sticking to a musician fresh off a stage.

Ambre Sultan by Serge Lutens - Notes of Resin, Amber, Myrrh, Benzoin, Sandalwood, Vanilla and Myrtle. Released in 1993. Opulent, gothic and very warm, this unisex fragrance is another Carl listed as a favourite back in the day. If 2 Man is churchy, this one is culty. Again, it suits him - it's like festival hippy oil taken to it's most concentrated conclusion. I don't know if he still wears either of these - he smelled great in Melbourne in 2018, but when I asked what he had on, he joked, "Lynx Africa!" then denied he was wearing anything. Likewise, Peter arrived at the Hackney gig in 2019 smelling deliciously of something very like Tom Ford's Tobacco Vanille, but when I asked him what he had on, he just said, "I smell like a polecat".

[archiveofkloss]

karlie kloss for carolina herrera’s good girl blush elixir (2024)

carolina herrera via instagram and twitter: “Rose. Vanilla. Patchouli: these are the foundations of the brand new Good Girl Blush Elixir, a seductive reimagination of an iconic fragrance.”

[danika-redgrave124]

Umbra Witch Yuu Umbran Elegance (Staff)

Dire Crowley

Fragrance: Nocturnal Flight

Assigned Weapon: Raven's Requiem

Scent Profile: A mysterious and alluring blend of night-blooming jasmine, dark musk, and a hint of earthy patchouli, capturing the enigmatic and shadowy nature of the raven.

Bottle Design: The bottle is shaped like a raven in mid-flight, with the glass tinted in a gradient of deep black to smoky gray. The raven’s wings form the elegant curves of the bottle, with the cap resembling a raven’s head.

Costume: Shadowfeather Ensemble

Overall Look: A sleek and enigmatic outfit inspired by the mystique of ravens. The ensemble features a form-fitting, black suit with feather-like patterns that shimmer in the light, creating an otherworldly effect. The suit is adorned with subtle raven motifs, and the cape flows like a cascade of dark feathers.

Accessories: A raven-feathered collar that rises around Yuu's neck, talon-like gloves with intricate feather details, and a feathered headpiece that adds to her mysterious presence.

Hairstyle: Yuu's hair is styled into a sleek, high ponytail with black feathers woven throughout, giving it a sharp, avian edge.

Special Effects: When Yuu moves, wisps of shadowy feathers trail behind her, and when they attacks, the pistols release dark, feathered projectiles that dissolve into flocks of spectral crows. The crows’ cries echo faintly, enhancing the eerie atmosphere.

Divus Crewel (Cruella De Vil)

Fragrance: Fierce Glamour

Assigned Weapon: Couture Chic

Scent Profile: A bold and luxurious fragrance that blends rich leather, smoky vetiver, and a hint of spicy pepper, embodying the audacious and fashionable spirit of Cruella De Vil.

Bottle Design: The bottle is sleek and elongated, resembling a designer perfume bottle with black and white stripes. The cap is adorned with a faux fur detail, giving it an extravagant, high-fashion feel.

Costume: Dalmatian Diva Ensemble

Overall Look: A striking and avant-garde outfit inspired by Cruella De Vil’s iconic black-and-white aesthetic. The ensemble features a form-fitting black dress with white, fur-trimmed accents and Dalmatian spots integrated into the design. The look is completed with a dramatic, asymmetrical coat that flows behind Bayonetta as she moves.

Accessories: Elegant black gloves with faux fur cuffs, a statement choker with a large gemstone, and thigh-high boots with Dalmatian spot patterns.

Hairstyle: Yuu's hair is styled into a bold, half-black, half-white look, with an exaggerated, voluminous wave that adds to the outfit’s dramatic flair.

Special Effects: Each time Yuu attacks, the whips emit stylish, shimmering energy slashes that leave behind trails of sparkling light, adding a touch of high-fashion elegance to every strike.

Fragrance: Midnight Schemes

Assigned Weapon: Wicked Stilettoos

Scent Profile: A sophisticated and intoxicating blend of black rose, smoky sandalwood, and a hint of bitter almond, embodying the elegant yet sinister aura of Lady Tremaine.

Bottle Design: The bottle is a sleek, dark glass with intricate silver filigree and a stiletto heel-shaped cap, exuding a sense of refined malevolence.

Costume: Shadowed Aristocrat Ensemble

Overall Look: A regal yet ominous outfit inspired by Lady Tremaine’s aristocratic style. The ensemble features a high-collared, floor-length gown in deep shades of black and midnight blue, with sharp, angular lines that emphasize Bayonetta’s silhouette. The gown is adorned with subtle, shimmering details that resemble dark magic weaving through the fabric.

Accessories: Black, lace gloves, a jeweled brooch shaped like a stiletto heel, and a delicate, veiled headpiece that adds an air of mystery and authority.

Hairstyle: Yuu's hair is styled into a sleek, elegant updo, with strands of hair woven into intricate patterns that mimic the gown’s dark enchantments.

Special Effects: With each strike, the Wicked Stilettoos leave behind a trail of dark energy that lingers in the air, adding an ominous glow to the battlefield. The enemies caught in this energy are more susceptible to the enchantments, ensuring they turn on each other.

Fragrance: Wild Valor

Assigned Weapon: Hunting Crossbow

Scent Profile: A bold and invigorating blend of forest pine, smoky cedarwood, and a hint of spicy clove, capturing the essence of the wild and untamed spirit of a hunter.

Bottle Design: The bottle is designed to resemble a rugged, outdoor flask, with a wooden texture and antler-shaped stopper, giving it a rugged, adventurous feel.

Costume: Grand Huntsman Ensemble

Overall Look: A striking outfit inspired by Gaston’s grandiose style, featuring a muscular, armored look combined with rugged, hunting gear. The ensemble includes a fitted vest with elaborate leather detailing, reinforced with metal plating for a tough appearance. The design incorporates elements such as fur accents and hunting trophies, creating a bold and imposing silhouette.

Accessories: A broad, leather belt with utility pouches, fingerless gloves, and sturdy, high-top boots with reinforced soles.

Hairstyle: Yuu's hair is styled in a strong, confident manner, a high ponytail, emphasizing her readiness for action and adventure.

Special Effects: Each time Yuu fires the crossbow, the explosive bolts create a dramatic visual effect of blazing trails and impact bursts, highlighting the power of the weapon. The shockwaves from the explosions ripple across the battlefield, adding to the sense of overwhelming force.

Fragrance: Voodoo Enigma

Assigned Weapon: Shadowed Voodoo

Scent Profile: A mysterious blend of dark musk, smoky incense, and a hint of exotic spices, capturing the essence of voodoo magic and dark rituals.

Bottle Design: The bottle is shaped like a mystical totem, adorned with voodoo symbols and dark crystal accents. Its surface has a shimmering, shadowy appearance that reflects the dark magic of the weapon.

Costume: Arcane Sorcerer Ensemble

Overall Look: A captivating outfit inspired by Dr. Facilier’s theatrical and mystical style. The ensemble features a long, flowing coat with intricate voodoo patterns and a dramatic high collar. The coat is complemented by dark, elegant trousers and a waistcoat adorned with occult symbols.

Accessories: A wide-brimmed hat with a voodoo mask motif, a pair of dark gloves with magical sigils, and a cane with a glowing, enchanted orb.

Hairstyle: Yuu's hair is styled in an elegant, sweeping manner, possibly with dark, mystical accents or accessories that enhance the magical theme.

Special Effects: As Yuu wields the Shadowed Voodoo, shadowy tendrils of dark energy swirl around them, and mystical hexes appear in the air. Enemies affected by the shadowy spirits have a visible curse mark, emphasizing the power of the weapon.

[cleolinda]

Angel (Mugler, 1992)

(The Secrets Behind Thierry Mugler’s Iconic Angel Ad Campaigns: Jerry Hall, Amy Wesson, Anna Maria Cseh, Bianca Balti, Naomi Watts, Eva Mendes)

I had wanted to write about Mugler's Angel (1992) for a while now. I hadn't tried it before, but I love gourmands, after all, and Angel is a groundbreaking one. My mom briefly smelled a sample of it and wanted a bottle for Christmas one year (the same year that she gave me Hypnotic Poison), so I am actually working with a full bottle, never opened, maybe two years old; not a decant that came to me on a hot mail truck. Ideal testing conditions.

I can't smell the gourmand part.

I think that maybe this particular bottle is cursed. You see, the reason it's never been opened is that my mom came down with covid shortly after I bought it, and she's had anosmia ever since. Yeah: for more than two and a half years now, she has been, she is still, unable to taste or smell anything. But she really, really wanted me to review Angel, so it's in my possession now.

Here in the writeups I've done, there have been notes I haven't been able to smell now and then, but I haven't had coronovirus anosmia per se. I've dealt with long covid flare-ups, yes, but no olfactory issues. So I tried Angel five or six times over two weeks, giving my nose time to reset in between. I wrestled with it. On me, it opens with a blast of particularly melon-y fruit, and then, within minutes, the Werewolf Patchouli, The Funk, comes out. Angel is famously the first "fruitchouli," so I knew that would be involved, but—if I thought the harsh patchouli that bursts out of Coco Mademoiselle (2001) was incongruous, well, Angel is clearly where Chanel got the idea from. But before we go any further, let me walk you through some of the official description:

Angel is the fragrance of a woman who dares to live up her dreams with her blue star as her guide. Confident and seductive, she fascinates those who cross her path. Between power and pleasure, she uses her ultra-femininity as a signature. Between heaven and earth, she makes her dreams a reality. Angel Eau de Parfum is the first Gourmand perfume in the world of fragrance.

POINTS:

Angel is technically not the first "gourmand" ("foodie," "edible dessert") fragrance. So long as perfumers have had vanilla, almond, cinnamon, anise, citrus oils, synthetic fruit notes, and so on, they've been able to create gourmand compositions. Sylvaine Delacourte cites Guerlain's early vanilla-heavy Shalimar (1925), for example, as well as L'Heure Bleue (1912), "with its marshmallow accord based on orange blossom and vanilla." Now, I've worn L'Heure Bleue several times and I've never gotten marshmallow from it, but the point is, you can create a gourmand aspect from traditional notes. Most reviewers and historians refer to Angel as the first modern gourmand: the one that shaped the genre as we know it today. As Delacourte says, "Without Shalimar, there would not have been the perfume Angel (1992) which was the first to have officially been declared as gourmand with its patchouli, red fruits and caramel accord. Angel became the leader of this new wave of gourmand perfumes, followed by Lolita Lempicka and many others." But more on that in a bit.

I've been thinking about the way I write about gender—"for men" and "for women"—in fragrance, and at most, I said that the patchouli in Coco Mademoiselle had a "masc" expression, so to speak. But both the Mugler site and other reviewers speak in terms of the traditional gender binary, so let's engage with that. Mugler (the brand) persistently emphasizes the femininity of the product, and it turns out that there's a reason for that.

But first, more from Mugler.com on the fragrance notes:

Angel Eau de Parfum combines the power of patchouli with the sensuality of notes of praline, red fruits and vanilla absolute. Celestial Facet: Calabrian Bergamot. The smell of the wind, the sky, the great outdoors, the infinite: Calabrian bergamot stings the senses like a breath of fresh air. Delicious Facet: Praline. The universal addiction to the Gourmand family: associated with red fruits, the sweet scents reminiscent of praline and caramel create an irresistible desire, thanks to the unprecedented use of Ethylmaltol in fine perfumery - a stroke of olfactory genius. Voluptuous Facet: Patchouli. Evocation of sensuality and ultra femininity: Warmed up by the oriental inflections of vanilla absolute and played in overdose, patchouli captivates, seduces: the quintessence of femininity.

There's our game-changer: ethyl maltol.

Invented in 1969 and six times more powerful than maltol (which is found naturally in cocoa), this component evokes the scents of ripe fruit or caramel. Before the advent of gourmand perfume, this molecule was only used in the food sector. Today, veltol [Pfizer's maltol product] is present in almost all gourmand recipes of fragrances. Combined with natural ingredients, it brings a delicious sweet touch with caramel and praline accents.

(That Carrément Belle article also touches on furaneol in gourmands, "a natural organic component found in strawberries and many other fruits" with "roasted sugar tones," used in perfume to represent candy or cooked fruit aspects. I'm guessing there is a significant dollop of this in Aquolina's Pink Sugar, but that's our next post.)

The Cut goes so far as to say that "Thierry Mugler Changed the Perfume World Forever"—Angel took about three years of concerted advertising to really take off, but it became a direct contrast to the ubiquitously clean CK One (Calvin Klein, 1994). In 2007, Angel joined the Fragrance Foundation Hall of Fame, and it's still a benchmark—a popular one—today. And while The Cut credits Angel with laying the groundwork for Bath & Body Works' Warm Vanilla Sugar, various Victoria's Secret fragrances, Rihanna's Fenty perfumes, and Kilian's Love, Don't Be Shy, that's entirely leaving out gourmands and/or fruitchoulis like (deep breath) Lolita Lempicka (1997), Coco Mademoiselle (2001), the entire Britney Spears fragrance empire (est. 2004), Pink Sugar (2004), Vera Wang's Princess (2006), the Prada Candy line (2011), Lancôme's La Vie Est Belle (2012), YSL's Black Opium (2014), Viktor & Rolf's Bonbon (2014), Ariana Grande's Cloud (2018), and every single sugary thing in between. Angel was the fragrance that said, sugar in perfume is now a thing and we're gonna put a fuckload of it into this bad boy—

"I want something mouthwatering and tasty which reminds me of childhood," Mugler allegedly said, wanting to recapture his memory of visiting French fairgrounds. “The scent of a fairground, candy floss, little cakes, chocolates, and caramels.” Perfumers Olivier Cresp and Yves de Chirin listened by throwing nearly every sugary ingredient into the formula: cotton candy, coconut, cassis, melon, jasmine, bergamot, pineapple, mandarin orange, honey, red berries, blackberry, plum, apricot, peach, jasmine, orchid, caraway, nutmeg, rose, lily of the valley, patchouli, chocolate, caramel, vanilla, tonka bean, amber, musk, and sandalwood.

—and we're gonna do whatever we gotta do to make that work.

And what Olivier Cresp and Yves de Chirin had to do to make that work, to balance the sweet elements of the fragrance in a way no one even worries about nowadays, was throw in a massive blast of patchouli. To wit:

Now Smell This: "What shocked me, mostly, was the patchouli, or more specifically, the 'unusually high 30 percent concentration of woodsy patchouli' that had been added to keep the fragrance from being overly sweet."

A Tea-Scented Library: "This stuff is earthy; dark; rough-textured; herbal-smoky like a cigarette (which, by the way, I loathe) and heavily mentholated, which makes it feel chemical and quite masculine. A definitely non-angelic, angry beast, roaring and screeching from the tiniest spray… and from the nozzle."

Tania Sanchez: "Look for Angel’s Adam’s apple: a handsome, resinous, woody patchouli, straight out of the pipes-and-leather-slippers realm of men’s fragrance… The effect kills the possibility of cloying sweetness, despite megadoses of the cotton-candy smell of ethylmaltol."

And this, I think, is why the Mugler website copy stresses femininity so relentlessly: the angel doth protest too much. A harsh, earthy patchouli that haunts me around the house doesn't read as "ultra feminine" to me, but that's on me and my preconceptions. (It is definitely on me; I cannot wash it off.) That said (and sometimes I have to refresh myself on this point), Gender Is Fake Except For the Parts You Like; anyone can wear anything they want, so it doesn't matter if Angel is deemed "feminine" or "masculine." But if we engage with the terms of the conversation that is already happening: the current Mugler website is addressing reactions that characterize the patchouli blast as "masculine," reframing and re-gendering that note as just another way to present femininity. (And clearly, I had no problem envisioning something like this when I said a similar patchouli felt like a werewolf debutante.) Basically, they're saying, "Angel's gender is 'woman' because we say so. Wear it and see what patchouli femininity feels like." In terms of gender discourse, I am way too far in over my head already, so I'll leave it at this: sometimes reviewers say masculine, Mugler says feminine, I say it's a synthesis of both or maybe neither; maybe perfumes, like angels, don't actually have gender.

Unfortunately, Angel is not for the femme in me. You see, I'm not much of a patchouli fan, but it's the only thing I can smell with this one after about three minutes. My first impression of Angel, every single time, is FROOT, led by melon, and then an absolute tsunami of patchouli crashes in. Once, once, I got a whiff of something I would call "white-chocolate praline cupcake" if I sniffed my arm real hard, and then I lost it again. And I know I can smell ethyl maltol! This is not a Javanol situation! I have worn Pink Sugar (and Fantasy, and Princess, and Cloud, not to mention a whole collection of Black Phoenix gourmands) several times, and I can smell dessert notes. I have no idea what's happening with this bottle of Angel. I cannot test this perfume anymore. Every time I try a single spray on my arm, my clothes smell like patchouli, my bed smells like patchouli, my room smells like patchouli, the vanity smells like patchouli, the hallway smells like patchouli. It stalks the house, just the patchouli, only the patchouli, smoky-hoarse and yet also belting out show tunes to the balconies. We've already been through my Fragrance Journey™ to learn to like this stuff even a little, and for me, it depends on what it's blended with. IT'S NOT BLENDED WITH ANYTHING ELSE, IT BREAKS FREE AND RAMPAGES FOR DAYS ON END, IT CONTAMINATES EVERYTHING I HAVE EVER OWNED IN THIS LIFE OR ANY OTHER NO MATTER HOW MUCH LAUNDRY I DO. If I were also getting haunted by all this cotton candy and praline and chocolate, I would like that! BUT I'M NOT.

Bonus hilarity: My mom hates patchouli.

So we're sending the bottle on to someone who loves The Funk; I'm going to order a fresh decant of Angel to see if it smells different coming from someone else's stock, and we'll see if the recipient of the Cursed Bottle gets to roll in her beloved patchouli, or if it somehow only smells like candy to her, cursèd as it is.

Bonus: If you're not familiar, Thierry Mugler (1948-2022) was one of the great weird avant-garde couture designers. I need to add more posts to my tag (don't miss... whatever's going on here). But for now, bask in the video (note: some strobing/flashing) he costumed for George Michael:

Perfume discussion masterpost

[amethystsoda]

Astarion Cologne Suggestions (from tumblr and the og subreddit)

Here's the original reddit post and my meme post --

the main notes people are looking for are rosemary, bergamot, and some kind of brandy/sweet fruit/alcohol

now let's go over everyone's suggestions -- link is first, then scent notes:

Hopefully everyone can find something they like out of the list! :D

Some smaller creators are doing specific Astarion blends too--you can find a lot of them if you search on tiktok.

[ghostinfragileshell]

Do you ever think about the fragrance that Evelynn, AKA the Demon of Agony and K/DA Diva, has dropped? We've seen this moment in the "Harmony" comics.

At first glance, the name is very trivial. Just "Passion" - there's nothing surprising, nothing authentic, nothing unique about it. Expected and boring.

But let's assume Eve is less obvious. The name "Passion" might be an hommage to one of the most iconic fragrances of the 20th century - "Poison", Dior. And Evelynn's passion is literally poisonous.

"See, someone said, "Don't drink her potions

She'll kiss your neck with no emotion"

"Grab a cop gun" kinda crazy

She's poison but tasty

Yeah, people say, "Run, don't walk away"

'Cause she's sweet but a psycho

A little bit psycho

At night, she's screamin'

"I'm-ma-ma-ma out my mind"

It is about Eve - she's passionate and poisonous at the same time. She kills you, but it's a sweet death; "Poison" smells like sweet death. It is starting with sugar plum, berries and vanilla, then continues with tuberose and white flowers, and ends with patchouli and spices.

Plum, berries and vanilla - sounds like some delicious dessert!

But then, tuberose, - a poisonous flower associated with sensuality and bodily scent, with obsession and desire.

Then patchouli and vetiver, a combo that smells like wet soil in a crypt.

It is all so Evelynn. Could it be that her own fragrance was inspired by Poison?

And the Poison bottle is deep purple - as the night where the demon lurks, and darkness swirls in it.

So Evelynn, I tell you.

[gensokyosrecluses]

//i...may have forgotten to put them in my muse list, but I also accepts asks for the other Scarlet Devil Mansion residents even if the main focus for this blog is Jam and Patchouli!

Ooooo look at their cool icons ooo

[alexcurry]

What Makes Perfumes for Men Truly Stand Out?

In today’s fast-paced world, where first impressions carry more weight than ever, the right scent can say more about a man than a thousand words. Perfume is not just an accessory—it’s a quiet signature of who you are. Whether you're getting ready for a high-stakes meeting, a casual day out, or a romantic dinner, the right fragrance can help set the tone.

So what really makes perfumes for men stand out? It’s not just about the brand or the bottle. It’s about personality, memory, and identity. This blog dives into how men can navigate the world of fragrances to find the scent that’s not only timeless but deeply personal.

Why Scent Matters More Than You Think

A man’s scent is often his most memorable trait. Think back to a moment when someone walked past and left a lasting impression without even saying a word. That’s the silent power of perfume.

Psychologically, scent is closely linked to memory and emotion. The right fragrance can trigger nostalgia, command attention, and evoke a sense of comfort or intrigue. For men, finding a fragrance that matches their vibe is like putting the final touch on their daily armor—it builds confidence and presence.

Understanding Fragrance: The Note Pyramid

Before you buy a bottle, it’s helpful to understand how a fragrance works. Every perfume is made up of layers, often described as notes:

Top Notes: The first impression. These are fresh and light—often citrusy or herbal—and fade quickly.

Heart Notes: The core of the scent, which defines the perfume’s true character. Think spices, florals, or green notes.

Base Notes: The deepest layer that lingers. These include woods, leather, amber, or musk, giving the scent its lasting power.

When you test perfumes for men, don’t judge them based on the first spray. Let them settle into your skin for an hour. A scent evolves, and the base notes often leave the most memorable impression.

Finding the Right Perfume for Your Personality

Buying a fragrance isn’t just about smelling good—it’s about finding a scent that resonates with who you are. Here are a few personality-based guidelines:

The Minimalist: If you like things clean, simple, and modern, go for light citrus, aquatic, or green fragrances. They’re subtle but refreshing.

The Adventurer: Spicy, woody scents with hints of leather or tobacco echo confidence and a rugged charm.

The Romantic: Soft musks, florals like rose or lavender, or warm vanilla bases can create a cozy, inviting aura.

The Classic Gentleman: Think timeless scents with sandalwood, bergamot, or patchouli. They never go out of style.

Take your time. Test. Revisit. Let your choice settle over a few hours. The best perfumes are those that feel like a second skin.

When to Wear What: Day vs. Night, Work vs. Play

Just as you wouldn’t wear a tuxedo to a beach party, you shouldn’t wear a heavy oud-based scent to the office. Context matters.

Office/Daytime: Fresh, citrus, green, and aquatic scents work best. They're energizing but not overpowering.

Evenings/Formal Events: Go for deeper, richer scents—spices, woods, or orientals.

Summer: Lighter fragrances with marine or citrus notes.

Winter: Warm, smoky, or leathery tones create a comforting shield in the cold.

Having more than one perfume isn’t excessive—it’s thoughtful. A small rotation lets you adapt to seasons, occasions, and even your mood.

Niche vs. Designer: What’s the Difference?

Designer perfumes are made by well-known fashion houses—think Dior, Chanel, or Gucci. They're widely available, moderately priced, and made to appeal to a broad audience.

Niche fragrances, however, are made by smaller, often independent brands focused on unique, artistic expression. They're typically more expensive and less mainstream, but offer originality.

If you're just starting, go with a trusted designer fragrance. Once you know your preferences, you can explore niche scents that reflect your individuality more deeply.

Iconic Perfumes for Men Worth Trying

If you’re not sure where to start, here’s a short list of well-loved perfumes for men that are universally respected and widely appreciated:

Bleu de Chanel – A modern, woody-aromatic blend. Fresh yet deep.

Dior Sauvage – Bold and spicy with a touch of raw masculinity.

Tom Ford Noir – Dark, rich, and sensual. Best for evening wear.

Acqua di Gio by Giorgio Armani – Clean and marine-inspired, perfect for daytime.

Creed Aventus – A luxury choice known for its unique blend of pineapple, birch, and musk.

Each of these has its own story. Sampling them gives you a reference point for understanding your preferences.

Application Tips: Less Is More

Even the most expensive scent can become unpleasant if over-applied. Here’s how to apply perfume the right way:

Target pulse points: Wrists, neck, behind the ears, and chest. These areas naturally emit heat, which helps diffuse the scent.

Don’t rub: Rubbing breaks down the top notes and changes the scent profile.

Spray, don’t douse: Two to four sprays are plenty. You want to intrigue, not overwhelm.

Layer smartly: Use unscented lotion or matching deodorants to enhance longevity.

Storing Perfume Correctly

Perfume doesn’t last forever. Light, heat, and air can all affect its quality over time. Keep bottles in their original boxes or store them in a cool, dark drawer. Avoid leaving them in your car or bathroom.

Proper storage ensures that your scent stays true and potent, lasting years rather than months.

The Future of Men’s Fragrances

Men’s grooming is evolving, and so are fragrance trends. Clean, gender-neutral, and sustainably made perfumes are gaining popularity. More brands now offer refillable bottles and ethically sourced ingredients. The line between “masculine” and “feminine” scents is also blurring, allowing more freedom to explore what smells good, without labels.

If you’re shopping now, don’t be afraid to step outside traditional boxes. A floral scent doesn’t make you less masculine—it just broadens your palette.

Final Thoughts: Your Scent Is Your Story

A good perfume is more than a smell. It’s a story. A memory. A way to show up in the world without saying a word.

Finding your signature scent is a journey worth taking. It involves curiosity, experimentation, and a bit of self-awareness. Don’t rush it. Try samples, revisit scents, and notice how they make you feel. Eventually, you’ll land on the one that feels like home.

In the end, the best perfumes for men are the ones that connect—whether it's with your personality, your past, or the impression you want to leave behind. Choose with intention, wear with pride, and let your scent speak for you.