doomsday_disco
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Everything posted by doomsday_disco
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Rain-soaked leaves, lightning-struck wood, gleaming black myrrh, smoked cedar, hinoki, and black tea. Yosa Buson
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An aromatic crusty loaf covered in pre-bake slashes to create a floral pattern on top, flecked with flax, sesame, pumpkin seeds.
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A Lupercalia Box of Chocolates scent that was supposed to go live this year but we were short on components. A chocolate truffle filled with wild plum, amaretto, burgundy wine, and black currant.
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Winnie-the-Pooh sat down at the foot of the tree, put his head between his paws and began to think. First of all he said to himself: “That buzzing-noise means something. You don’t get a buzzing-noise like that, just buzzing and buzzing, without its meaning something. If there’s a buzzing-noise, somebody’s making a buzzing-noise, and the only reason for making a buzzing-noise that I know of is because you’re a bee.” Then he thought another long time, and said: “And the only reason for being a bee that I know of is making honey.” And then he got up, and said: “And the only reason for making honey is so as I can eat it.” So he began to climb the tree. He climbed and he climbed and he climbed, and as he climbed he sang a little song to himself. It went like this: Isn’t it funny How a bear likes honey? Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! I wonder why he does? Then he climbed a little further … and a little further … and then just a little further. By that time he had thought of another song. It’s a very funny thought that, if Bears were Bees, They’d build their nests at the bottom of trees. And that being so (if the Bees were Bears), We shouldn’t have to climb up all these stairs. He was getting rather tired by this time, so that is why he sang a Complaining Song. He was nearly there now, and if he just stood on that branch … Crack! “Oh, help!” said Pooh, as he dropped ten feet on the branch below him. The bees were still buzzing as suspiciously as ever. A golden gourmand for a philosopher. Wild clover honey buzzing with mead fizz, a gust of woodsmoke, and a dusting of ambered pollen.
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The Dregs of a Bottle of Vanilla Extract (Discovered in the Mud)
doomsday_disco posted a topic in The Edward Gorey House
Alas, poor Marsh! Dribbles of masticated vanilla pods soaked in ethanol and caked with mud. -
Raspberry punch with elderberry liqueur, lemon juice, a splash of gin, and a smattering of Victoria sponge crumbs.
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Billowing bulbous blobs of grapefruit marshmallows.
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The crime of Lady Violet at Gilravage Hall in Neglected Murderesses. Black Darjeeling brewed to the edge of acridity, its dark tannins laced with the faint metallic sigh of tarnished silver. Bruised and rain-damp wisteria petals clinging to a loosened knot of fraying violet ribbon. The lingering ghost of charred wood from a dormant hearth drifting beneath a sweep of velvet the color of fading bruises, tangled with the ragged threads of silk-stitched roses.
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From Edward Gorey’s Scènes de Ballet. A glimmer of white tulle in a thicket of ink-black pines, graceful as a half-spied pirouette between a silhouette of clawed branches. The hush of forest moss under satin slippers, a wisp of candle smoke, the flick of a wrist as pale as lilies beckoning through thick myrrh shadows.
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These are not soluble in lemonade, as clarified in The Awdrey-Gore Legacy. They are, however, most likely toxic. Pale crystals poured from a chipped glass jar, emitting a brittle whiff of bitter almond and cinnabar, swirling, undissolved, into sugar-clotted lemonade.
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A bitterly cold, bone-white chypre; austere polar musk, vegan ambergris, and white tea combine to make a genteel, frigid perfume as bright and sharp as the first crack of glacial ice.
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A fatal temptation: vanilla bean paste, allspice, ground almond accord, cinnamon sugar, golden caster sugar, and a dusting of icing sugar.
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A bloodless scent stitched together like delicate antique lace, with a hint of powdered violet, plum brandy, and gleaming aldehydes.
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A whiff of seasonal dread, candied and cursed; the perfect gourmand perfume for holiday melancholics. A dense, boozy thud of brandied plum, candied citrus peel, dried cherries, sherry, blackened clove and nutmeg, ambered dust, moth-eaten burgundy velvet curtains, and a tiny plume of smoke from recently-spent matchsticks.
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Wishing you and your cocks a happy new year. Red peppercorns and gingersnaps.
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A fussy, irritable, irascible dragon with a taste for drama, velvet throw pillows, cryptic social media posts, ink-smeared burn books, biting commentary, and vintage clothing with a past. Its scales are the color of dried blood, old bruises, clove-spiked pomegranate, aged patchouli, and vermouth.
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Also known as the Dead Head Dragon, this is a guardian of rot, rust, and revelation, feeding on spiritual decay and quietly hoarding the sordid secrets of the powerful. Scales of deep purplish rust-red: black fig, patchouli-steeped purple clove, black tea, blackcurrant, red musk, and oud.
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A cozy floof of sugared coconut. Sei Koyanagui
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There is a recurrent spot where the pattern lolls like a broken neck and two bulbous eyes stare at you upside-down. I get positively angry with the impertinence of it and the everlastingness. Up and down and sideways they crawl, and those absurd, unblinking eyes are everywhere. There is one place where two breadths didn’t match, and the eyes go all up and down the line, one a little higher than the other. Indolic jasmine glaring through a haze of tobacco yellow and stained lace.
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Hot, sultry beeswax and blushing pink apple.
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Coyote Moon is mostly about the amber fur on me, which reads as an amber-infused brown musk to my nose. I get touches of the desert notes in the background, with the sage notes being the most prominent among them, and a hint of the pepper. However, none of these notes can ever compete with the amber fur, and that's mostly what I'm left with by the end of the day. I layered the duets I grabbed decants of with the moon, and these were the results on my skin: Layered with Cacao Dust and Ashes -- This amps up the cacao dust in the duet, smooths over the ash, and makes the moon gourmand-adjacent. Layered with Palo Santo and White Amber -- I get lots of cool palo santo and white amber throughout wear, hovering above the amber fur of the lunacy scent. Layered with Vanilla Incense and Roasted Tonka Bean -- The vanilla incense and tonka combine with the amber fur in a way that remind me of the Lab's hay note. This was my favorite of the layering experiments. I enjoy this scent, but it is the desert elements I enjoy most about it, and I wish that they got to shine more on my skin. Still, I need more desert-y scents in my collection, and I do like layering this with its duets, so I'll spend more time with it and see if I need more before it goes away.
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Coyote Moon: Vanilla Incense and Roasted Tonka Bean
doomsday_disco posted a topic in Duets & Menage A Trois
Vanilla Incense and Roasted Tonka Bean. -
Coyote Moon: Vanilla Incense and Roasted Tonka Bean
doomsday_disco replied to doomsday_disco's topic in Duets & Menage A Trois
I like this one! There's no champaca incense or any strong headshop-y incense to this, nor is it particularly resinous. It's like a lightly smoked non-gourmand vanilla and warm tonka that's somehow a bit brighter than one would expect when sniffing it. When layered with Coyote Moon, it sweetens up the lunacy scent and combines with the fur in a way that reminds me of the Lab's hay note. I need to spend more time with this to see if I need more than my decant, but in any case, the decant is definitely a keeper! (And if you have both scents, definitely try layering them!) -
You may shoot me with your words, You may cut me with your eyes, You may kill me with your hatefulness, But still, like air, I’ll rise. – Maya Angelou Under a terrible moon, tides still answer the pull. Roots still find water. Breath still moves from body to body, unseen and unstoppable. To keep breathing together is to refuse erasure and deny despair. Authoritarianism thrives on isolation and fascism feeds on hopelessness. We are living through a terrible moon, indeed, but we are not alone. You are not alone. Every breath you take is an act of defiance. Every hand you reach for refutes the lie that you stand by yourself. We will get through this together. A protective, communal scent to call one another closer and stand united against the darkness. A scent to remind us that even now, especially now, we rise. Smoldering beeswax illuminated by honeyed amber, an embrace of skin musk, body-warmed wool, cacao-dusted sandalwood, and cardamom milk.