An Angel?
om demons x reader (+Simeon, Solomon, Mephi, Raph)
wc : 2.k
warnings : more simping bois, more humor, a lot more sprinkles of suggestive comments
synopsis : a deviltok trend has the boys on their knees for you, part two: electric boogaloo
a/n : for the record, Luke was in the room while Mc was making it, cheering them on, doing his cute little “Waahhh!” // idea brought to me by the lovely [your-next-daydream] // AND, as usual, let’s not talk about how ridiculously long this took me to finish ahaha rip me-
demon ver.
<Simeon> Mc looks rather...heavenly, don’t you agree?
[attachment sent]
Intrigued, he wasted no time in clicking on the file, grinning when he realized it was one of your deviltoks. Decked out in your RAD uniform, you sat in a chair with your hands clasped together.
“Who are you?”
Smoothly, almost as if you were floating, you stood and took a few steps towards the camera with a rather shy smile.
“An angel.”
You bowed ever so slightly, flitting your gaze to the floor.
“What’s your name?”
You spun suddenly, sending your red accessory swooshing in front of the camera, covering everything from view.
“Michael.”
As fast as the transition happened, it ended; the view was cleared to reveal you— angelic down to a T and beautiful wasn’t even enough to describe you.
You were adorned with sheer, white clothing that was loose and flowy, probably swaying due to a fan that was off camera. Light blue accents were scattered here and there- including an extension piece in your hair of the same color. Sparkling gold accessories glinted under the light, but not as much as the halo that hovered above your head. It was a gorgeous molten gold tint, partly transparent with glitter floating around inside (with a few cracks decorating the outside of it). It only brought attention to the snowy wings spanning out behind you, flecks of iridescent scattered amongst the feathers.
[9 people saved a video attachment]
Lucifer
Ah. Yes. He’s not combusting on the inside, not at all.
*insert internal screaming*
Ahem. Now that his jaw has been picked up off the floor, he is immediately wondering how the fuck Simeon of all people got access to the video before him
Don’t get him wrong though, he is on the way right now- leave the door open, Mc
He has to put his marks all over your body to get rid of the fact that you looked that pretty while using Michael’s name
Possessive urges aside, please keep the outfit on
Does not care if you’re dressed up like an Angel, he will gladly corrupt you
In fact, he wants to corrupt you- let him see that pact mark of his while you look so angelic, yeah?
might be into role playing it if you’d like
Mammon
Blinks a couple times before looking around slowly; poor boy really thought he’d been yeeted back to the celestial realm for a minute there
It’s all quiet before suddenly everyone in the house (and probably outside) hears “HOLY FUCK WHAT”
You never cease to amaze him, by the devils, is he in love
The blush on his face- if he was anything other than a demon- would look severely concerning. Like no, it’s not a red beacon of light, it’s just him coming through the halls
Is creepin outside ya door practically on his knees. Please let him in. His greed is flared and you’re the only cure even if you’re also the reason
He is dying to have a diy photo shoot of the two of you in your angel fit
Step on him. Do it- it’s the perfect angle, the shot comes out beautifully and he is putting it right in his wallet once it’s developed
Will step on you in return if you ask
You’ll let him kiss all over your body, wontcha, Mc? (he’ll even be gentle with his fangs when he nibbles around that golden necklace you’ve got on)
Levi
*cue his very nervous yet giddy laughter*
This is just like that anime he saw last week called ‘Help! My human s/o just turned into an Angel but I’m a demon and actually kind of into this?!”
Seriously though, you look so beautiful, Levi was immediately down in the floor with his face covered and tail wagging
Please allow 3-4 business months before he can recover
Jk lol he’s hovering in your doorway before you you can even click on his contact
Shyly asks if he can touch your halo and wings (and ends up with his tail wrapped around you, knocking you side to side because it’s still attempting to wag)
Unlike the eldest brother, Levi practically begs you to roleplay this with him and have a cosplay photoshoot
Will shamelessly keep you to himself for the rest of the day and hiss at everyone who gets too close
Please sit on him and call him mean names while also holding him sweetly
Satan
Sign him tf up- he’s got a pen at the ready
Irony aside, Satan thinks you look absolutely stunning— straight out of a fairy tale
Irony not aside, Satan is actually so into this and craves to play it out with you
He was never an Angel to begin with, he was born a demon; just thinking about making your ivory wings turn black makes him excited
Satan understands it’s just a simple spell you’ve casted so he won’t get too out of sorts (but if you like it, then what’s the harm?)
Wants to read a forbidden love trope book and maybe act out some of the scenes while you’re still dressed like that
The hopeless romantic in him is front and center the entire time
If you think he’s gonna let you go now, you’re sorely mistaken— let his brothers try and take you away
He’s got tons of scenarios to act out if you can handle him
Asmo
That weird high pitched sound you hear from across the house that should be something only dogs can hear? Yeah that’s Asmo squealing
Posting your video EVERYWHERE bc everyone needs to see how fucking gorgeous you look
You can hear his footsteps from a mile away as he hurries to your room
He MUST see your outfit in person ASAP
Azzy. Is. So. Fucking. Down. For. This. Shit. He thinks he’s dreamed about this once actually
Please let him just examine every inch of you, he’s begging
Once again his camera is out and ready for a photoshoot and his demon form is out right alongside it
He will be keeping you for the next 24-48 hours thanks
Beel
Choked. Again.
Don’t be alarmed by the loud rumbling sound— it’s not Beel’s stomach for once, but instead a growl
He didn’t mean to make that sound but you just look so— and he just— and you— and and— A a a A A
Has that cute little blush plastered over his face all. day.
Might be tempted- or actually try- to take a bite out of your halo or something else ifykyk
Rewatches the video at least ten times because you're just. Wow. Wow. W O W.
Is now in the mood to eat some celestial realm food with you
though his appetite is half for food and half for you
Pls don’t mind his staring or the way he’s probably drooling a bit, he can’t help it :(
Belphie
“...wait, what?”
Lays there staring at the ceiling for a moment bc PHEW you got him sweating and he hasn’t even moved yet-
Manages a straight face all the way until he enters your room and sees the outfits in person
To which he is, once again, dropping right at your feet with a look of ‘PLEASE’
He needs a whole ass minute or two to catch his breath from how fucking gorgeous you look and then he needs another whole ass minute or two to scan you over again
Please sit on him
Is uncharacteristically stuttering through every sentence— how can he possibly concentrate on stupid words in these [amazing] conditions?!
Gatekeeping you AGAIN
Underneath you the entire. time.
Barbatos
*windows shutdown*
*windows restart*
…aaand we’re back ladies and gentlemen and every cool dude in between but Barbatos is still fucking astonished— absolutely flabbergasted at how badly he’s got it for you
He dropped everything he was carrying in that moment and swiftly picked it back up, hoping no one saw
Diavolo saw. He recorded the entire thing and sent it to you, zooming in on Barbatos’ blush
There’s just something primal in him that makes him want to sink his teeth into you and coil his tail around your body so that you won’t be able to go anywhere else until he lets you
Everyone be damned, Barb will be having you to himself for the entire night
Will also run his fingers along the faux wings and halo before he absolutely ruins you until the magic dissipates
He is…totally normal about the entire thing..
Diavolo
His father help him— Diavolo is so incredibly thankful for the exchange program
Is OUT of the castle at mach speed before Barbatos can even say otherwise
And then he’s speeding right back and summoning you to him instead so he can have you to himself
Mans is kneeling at your fucking feet the second he lays eyes on you
And while it isn’t ‘proper’ for someone who wants unity between all three realms to want to corrupt you—
—he does. So badly. He thinks he might even beg you for it
Also wants to take a picture of the two of you with him in his demon form (it’s the it picture for weeks after he posts it)
Cannot stop looking at your halo; please let him touch it
(If you slowly begin altering your wings to bleed black, he’s practically foaming at the mouth—)
bonus:
Simeon
*sharp inhale* . . . *yeets halo*
He deadass forgets he’s an Angel himself for a few minutes bc he’s too busy simping fawning over you
God who?? Like get tf outta the way, beep beep, archangel on a mission comin through
Is begging as soon as he steps foot through your door. Please, please let him touch you and explore— he should be ashamed with how unabashed he is but fuck look at you
Will let his own wings out just so you can compare your angels forms (melted on the spot when you brushed your wings against his)
Honestly can’t decide if he wants you to corrupt him or if he wants to corrupt you…or both at the same time
He’s not sharing you. Not now. Not like this.
You may look like an angel, and he may be an angel, but he won’t treat you like one tonight
If you do the fancy trick of letting your wings turn black, he’s completely bowing down to whatever you wish right then and there
Solomon
Kinda forgot he was immortal for a split second and wondered if he’d either died or accidentally traveled to the celestial realm
Gains his bearings rather quickly, but the hold you have on him is still very much there
And he’d like you to have a hold around his throat— what? Who said that??
His pretty little blush where he averts his eyes all nervously? YEAH THAT
He’s taken aback for a couple moments before his usual shit eating grin comes back but that blush? Still there.
Backs you against a wall, in a corner, and let’s his hands roam with a small laugh, quietly asking how you manage to make him lose composure so easily
Is so soft and sweet for a minute before his eyes darken and that SEXY smirk crawls onto his face
Plucks that halo right from above your head and tosses it behind his shoulder because how could he possibly do what he has planned if you’re an angel?
Makes your wings bloom black himself (and challenges how long you can handle him)
extra little bonus:
Mephisto
Simply raises a brow and wonders why the hell his body got so hot all the sudden
Ignores the video for a couple hours until he realizes he can’t stop fucking thinking about it
Promptly decides he’s going to go straight to you and demand how dare you invade his thoughts like this
And then promptly decides he’d rather just revert to using his hands instead when the sight of you makes his mouth dry and water at the same time
Will take it upon himself, right then, to corrupt you
Because there’s no way in the seven rings of hell he’s letting you switch sides and he’ll break the magic you’re using as proof
After though *cough cough* he will bashfully tell you how gorgeous you looked…
Raphael
Let me tell you, mans was not ready
Like if you’ve seen the video of the person with a stacked ass on the stretcher being carried by and the news reporter’s face afterwards, that’s Raphael.
Luke takes a picture of his expression and makes a meme
Won’t address it until the very next day, stiffly telling you that your outfit was very pleasing to the eye (he thinks you’re drop dead gorgeous, okay, he’s just struggling)
If you offer to show him in person, he is ascending right back home. Won’t deny, though. Like please do.
In awe for the whole experience
And blushes an alluring deep shade if you show him some ‘corruption’ tricks you have up your sleeve
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Halloween 2018 Perfume Blends
Calling all witches, hags, demons, goat-lovers, and assorted tricksters!
We've truly outdone ourselves with the Halloween 2018 collection, exploring strange new depths in diablerie as well as perfumerie. In addition to many classic treats, we've also got a spooky Chaos Theory, a timely Poe tale storyboarded in scent, a pile of Dead Leaves, a ribald new series of blends inspired by goats in classical art, and more!
Never fear -- Trading Post's hair gloss and atmosphere sprays will be coming soon!
You’ll find the full compendium of Halloween scent descriptions below, but BEWARE... You may find more thrills than e'er you bargained for.!
++ HALLOWEEN 2018
ALL SOULS
A day of remembrance and intercession. Without the prayers and sacrifices of their families and loved ones, the faithful departed may not be cleansed of their venal sins, and thereby cannot attain beatific vision. On November 2nd, prayers are sung and offerings are made to aid lost souls in transcending purgatory. An incense blend that invokes the higher qualities of mercy and compassion, mingled with the soft, sugared currant scent of offertory soul cakes.
BLUE GHOST BLUES
I feel myself sinkin' down
I feel myself sinkin' down
My body is freezin'
I feel something cold creepin' around
My windows is rattlin'
My doorknob turnin' round an' round
My windows is rattlin'
My doorknob turnin' round an' round
This haunted house blues is killin' me
I feel myself sinkin' down
I been fastin' in this haunted house
Six long months today
I been fastin' in this haunted house
Six long months today
The Blue Ghost is got the house surrounded, Lord
And I can't get away
They got shotguns and pistols
Standin' all round my door
They got shotguns and pistols
Standin' all round my door
They haunt me all night long
So I can't sleep no more
The Blue Ghost haunts me all night
The nightmare rides me all night long
The Blue Ghost haunts me at night
The nightmare rides me all night long
They worry me so in this haunted house
I wished I was dead and gone
- Lonnie Johnson
A ward against evil: bay rum, whiskey, cigar smoke, black pepper, and salt.
BONFIRE TOFFEE
Our spin on a traditional Guy Fawkes Night treat: treacle toffee soaked in rich, dark bourbon.
DIA DE LOS MUERTOS
A joyous celebration of La Catarina, La Flaca, La Muerte... Glorious, Beautiful Death. In Mexico, death is not something to be feared or hated; She is embraced, loved, and adored. La Muerte is fêted, as the celebrant "...chases after it, mocks it, courts it, hugs it, sleeps with it; it is his favorite plaything and his most lasting love."
This is a Mexican paean to La Huesuda: dry, crackling leaves, the incense smoke of altars honoring Death and the Dead, funeral bouquets, the candies, chocolates, foods and tobacco of the ofrenda, amaranth, sweet cactus blossom and desert cereus.
FEEDING THE DEAD
A barrel of beer, a pyramid of cakes, and three sticks of incense.
GHOST MUSIC
Gloomy and bare the organ-loft,
Bent-backed and blind the organist.
From rafters looming shadowy,
From the pipes’ tuneful company,
Drifted together drowsily,
Innumerable, formless, dim,
The ghosts of long-dead melodies,
Of anthems, stately, thunderous,
Of Kyries shrill and tremulous:
In melancholy drowsy-sweet
They huddled there in harmony.
Like bats at noontide rafter-hung.
- Robert Graves
Sheets of white musk and lavender curling around a melancholy song of violet root, iris, neroli, and honeysuckle.
GHOULISH
Creepy like Creepy and as spooky as Spooky, this is the scent of a black cherry and coconut amaretto confection gently laced with saffron.
THE HAG
The Hag is astride,
This night for to ride;
The Devill and shee together:
Through thick, and through thin,
Now out, and then in,
Though ne'r so foule be the weather.
A Thorn or a Burr
She takes for a Spurre:
With a lash of a Bramble she rides now,
Through Brakes and through Bryars,
O're Ditches, and Mires,
She followes the Spirit that guides now.
No Beast, for his food,
Dares now range the wood;
But husht in his laire he lies lurking:
While mischiefs, by these,
On Land and on Seas,
At noone of Night are working,
The storme will arise,
And trouble the skies;
This night, and more for the wonder,
The ghost from the Tomb
Affrighted shall come,
Cal'd out by the clap of the Thunder.
Black musk, bay leaves, galangal, bourbon vetiver, blackcurrant, and rum.
THE HARE
In the black furrow of a field
I saw an old witch-hare this night;
And she cocked her lissome ear,
And she eyed the moon so bright,
And she nibbled o' the green;
And I whispered 'Whsst! witch-hare,'
Away like a ghostie o'er the field
She fled, and left the moonlight there.
A leaper between worlds, the tiny trickster; she soars through liminal spaces, dancing in the strange shadows of dawn and twilight.
Warm fur and mandrake root, blue sage and tall grasses, honeysuckle-tinged moonlight, carrot seed, comfrey, and dandelion.
HUESOS DE SANTO
On All Saints Day, Spanish families visit their loved ones in the cemeteries, keeping vigil throughout the evening, saying prayers for the dead. Family burial plots are cleaned and tended, and graves are adorned with gladiolas, chrysanthemums, and roses. Bone-shaped pastries called Saint's Bones, or the Bones of the Holy, are baked and shared in honor of the souls in Purgatory, and to remind us of those who no longer share our repast, but with whom we one day hope to be reunited with again.
Orange-glazed cake, dotted with anise seed, and filled with custard, set beside a bouquet of celebratory funeral flowers.
INSIDE THE GOLDEN AMBER OF HER EYEBALLS
A ghost, though invisible, still is like a place
your sight can knock on, echoing; but here
within this thick black pelt, your strongest gaze
will be absorbed and utterly disappear:
just as a raving madman, when nothing else
can ease him, charges into his dark night
howling, pounds on the padded wall, and feels
the rage being taken in and pacified.
She seems to hide all looks that have ever fallen
into her, so that, like an audience,
she can look them over, menacing and sullen,
and curl to sleep with them. But all at once
as if awakened, she turns her face to yours;
and with a shock, you see yourself, tiny,
inside the golden amber of her eyeballs
suspended, like a prehistoric fly.
- Rainer Maria Rilke
Sleek black fur and gleaming amber shining in the shadows, a rumble of myrrh, and claws as sharp as ti leaf.
LAMBS-WOOL
According to William Shepard Walsh, the Gentleman's Magazine for May of 1784 stated, "this is a constant ingredient at merrymaking on Holy Eve." He also quotes Vallancey's etymological speculation: "The first day of November was dedicated to the angel presiding over fruits, seeds, etc., and was therefore named La Mas Ubhal, -- that is, the day of the apple fruit, -- and being pronounced Lamasool, the English have corrupted the name to Lambs-wool."
A popular holy day beverage in 18th century Ireland: roasted apples mashed into warmed milk and ale, with nutmeg, sugar, ginger, and clove.
MAGNIFICENT AUTUMN
By what a subtle alchemy the green leaves are transmuted into gold, as if molten by the fiery blaze of the hot sun! A magic covering spreads over the whole forest, and brightens into more gorgeous hues. The tree-tops seem bathed with the gold and crimson of an Italian sunset. Here and there a shade of green, here and there a tinge of purple, and a stain of scarlet so deep and rich, that the most cunning artifice of man is pale beside it. A thousand delicate shades melt into each other. They blend fantastically into one deep mass. They spread over the forest like a tapestry woven with a thousand hues.
Magnificent Autumn! He comes not like a pilgrim, clad in russet weeds. He comes not like a hermit, clad in gray. But he comes like a warrior, with the stain of blood upon his brazen mail. His crimson scarf is rent. His scarlet banner drips with gore. His step is like a flail upon the threshing floor.
The scene changes.
It is the Indian summer. The rising sun blazes through the misty air like a conflagration. A yellowish, smoky haze fills the atmosphere; and
A filmy mist,
Lies like a silver lining on the sky.
The wind is soft and low. It wafts to us the odor of forest leaves, that hang wilted on the dripping branches, or drop into the stream. Their gorgeous tints are gone, as if the autumnal rains had washed them out. Orange, yellow, and scarlet, all are changed to one melancholy russet hue. The birds, too, have taken wing, and have left their roofless dwellings. Not the whistle of a robin, not the twitter of an eavesdropping swallow, not the carol of one sweet, familiar voice! All gone. Only the dismal cawing of a crow, as he sits and curses, that the harvest is over, – or the chit-chat of an idle squirrel, – the noisy denizen of a hollow tree, – the mendicant friar of a large parish, – the absolute monarch of a dozen acorns!
Another change.
The wind sweeps through the forest with a sound like the blast of a trumpet. The dry leaves whirl in eddies through the air. A fret-work of hoar-frost covers the plain. The stagnant water in the pools and ditches is frozen into fantastic figures. Nature ceases from her labors, and prepares for the great change. In the low-hanging clouds, the sharp air, like a busy shuttle, weaves her shroud of snow. There is a melancholy and continual roar in the tops of the tall pines, like the roar of a cataract. It is the funeral anthem of the dying year.
A scent that wanders through the Ages of Autumn, from the last green leaf to the first breath of winter.
MIDNIGHT BONFIRE
Lighting the path between worlds, the beacon at the threshold: night-blooming jasmine, smoldering maple leaves, a cluster of patchouli and blackened ti leaf, black sage, and pinewood smoke.
PUMPKIN CRÈME BRULEE
With vanilla bean scrapings.
PUMPKIN DUST
Shavings of white pumpkin rind and honey powder.
PUMPKIN MUSK AND BLACK OUDH
A strangely romantic, disturbingly erotic perfume.
PUMPKIN TOBACCO
Sweet black tobacco infused with dried pumpkin and soaked in bourbon.
SAMHAIN
Truly the scent of autumn itself -- damp woods, fir needle, and black patchouli with the gentlest touches of warm pumpkin, clove, nutmeg, allspice, sweet red apple and mullein.
SAMHAINOPHOBIA
The Fear of Halloween
Menacing Haitian vetiver, patchouli, and clove with a shock of bourbon geranium, grim oakmoss, and dread-inspiring balsams pierce the innocuous scent of autumn leaves.
SCARECROW TURNED PHILOSOPHER
Once I said to a scarecrow, “You must be tired of standing in this
lonely field.”
And he said, “The joy of scaring is a deep and lasting one, and I
never tire of it.”
Said I, after a minute of thought, “It is true; for I too have
known that joy.”
Said he, “Only those who are stuffed with straw can know it.”
Then I left him, not knowing whether he had complimented or belittled
me.
A year passed, during which the scarecrow turned philosopher.
And when I passed by him again I saw two crows building a nest
under his hat.
- Kahlil Gibran
Corn husks waving on an autumn breeze, beams of amber sunlight, hay bales, and late summer wildflowers.
SUCK IT
Sexy and suckable: black cherry brandy.
THIS WAN WHITE HUMMING HIVE
And where should the living feel alive
But here in this wan white humming hive,
As the moon wastes down, and the dawn turns cold,
And one by one they creep back to the fold?
And where should a man hold his mate and say:
"One more, one more, ere we go their way"?
For the year's on the turn, and it's All Souls' night,
When the living can learn by the churchyard light.
White patchouli leaf, beeswax, ambergris, and pale incense.
WHEN COLORS ALL TO BLACK ARE CAST
In night when colors all to black are cast,
Distinction lost, or gone down with the light;
The eye a watch to inward senses placed,
Not seeing, yet still having powers of sight,
Gives vain alarums to the inward sense,
Where fear stirred up with witty tyranny,
Confounds all powers, and thorough self-offense,
Doth forge and raise impossibility:
Such as in thick depriving darknesses,
Proper reflections of the error be,
And images of self-confusednesses,
Which hurt imaginations only see;
And from this nothing seen, tells news of devils,
Which but expressions be of inward evils.
- Lord Brooke Fulke Greville
Ink-black musk and dried blackberries, midnight opoponax and sweet labdanum.
THE WITCH BRIDE
A fair witch crept to a young man's side,
And he kiss'd her and took her for his bride.
But a Shape came in at the dead of night,
And fill'd the room with snowy light.
And he saw how in his arms there lay
A thing more frightful than mouth may say.
And he rose in haste, and follow'd the Shape
Till morning crown'd an eastern cape.
And he girded himself, and follow'd still
When sunset sainted the western hill.
But, mocking and thwarting, clung to his side,
Weary day!-the foul Witch-Bride.
(Aw, c'mon, Allingham. Foul is a pretty strong choice of words, dontcha think?)
Pale and lovely, with eyes belladonna-wide: hemlock blossoms and ghostly nightshade veiled by wisteria, white frankincense, black amber, and narcissus resin.
YIPE
In the vein (GET IT?) of Boo, Suck It, and Spooky, this is a gushing font of sweet bloody black cherry cream and crushed dried blackberries.
++ ALL HALLOWS CHAOS
Turbulent, disordered beauty: sensitive to initial conditions, topologically mixed, and approached by periodic orbits with abandon. A dynamical system expressed through scent.
Each bottle of Chaos Theory is truly unique, a fragrant fractal, and an exercise in the joy of chance and uncertainty! Each is a one-of-a-kind, utterly random combination of scents, the composition of which is based on whim, mood and gut instinct. Each bottle is numbered, and each bottle is unique.
Hail Eris! After a long hiatus, Chaos Theory is back!
This year, the aforementioned chaos is expressing itself through decidedly seasonal metaphors associated with gathering the harvest and welcoming the “dark half” of the year. Is it comfort you seek, or incantations whispered through a tear in the Veil? Thanks to the options below, you don’t have to choose — you can have it both ways!
This is an exercise in the joy of chance and uncertainty! Each bottle is a one-of-a-kind, utterly random combination of scents, the composition of which is based on whim, mood and gut instinct.
Most common allergens have been omitted from the experiment. No pennyroyal, no nuts, no cinnamon, no cassia. Regardless, if you have any sensitivities, please do not participate in Chaos Theory. The contents of the oils are not recorded [that’s the whole point!] and we will not be able to answer questions about specific bottles of CT:VIII or guarantee that an allergen is not present in your order.
By purchasing CT:VIII, you agree to absolve Black Phoenix of any responsibility related to an allergic reaction to one of the oils in this series. Please make a responsible choice, and use caution and discretion when ordering. This is intended to be a fun, exciting project.
Each CT:VIII scent has a base inspired by one of our favorite ‘Weenies, in wildly varying proportions:
ALL HALLOWS CHAOS: PUMPKIN SPICE
Variety is the very spice of life, That gives it all its flavor.”
― William Cowper, 1785
Forget about the War on Christmas — the year’s most contentious seasonal battle is actually waged over this inescapable melange of palate-massaging flavors. We’ve got the formula down pat, and invite you to join us in a mad-science experiment: Just how far can we bend it before it breaks?
ALL HALLOWS CHAOS: SAMHAIN
“Invention, it must be humbly admitted, does not consist in creating out of void, but out of chaos.”
― Mary Shelley, 1831
This Samhain, we’re reveling in the desecration of a classic blend: “Damp woods, fir needle, and black patchouli with the gentlest touches of warm pumpkin, clove, nutmeg, allspice, sweet red apple and mullein.”
++ HALLOWEEN: MASQUE OF THE RED DEATH
Art by Tenebrous Kate
Words by Edgar Allan Poe
THE RED DEATH
The "Red Death" had long devastated the country. No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its Avatar and its seal --the redness and the horror of blood. There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleeding at the pores, with dissolution. The scarlet stains upon the body and especially upon the face of the victim, were the pest ban which shut him out from the aid and from the sympathy of his fellow-men. And the whole seizure, progress and termination of the disease, were the incidents of half an hour.
Splatters of red musk, bruise-purple violets, vetiver, and pimento.
HAPPY AND DAUNTLESS AND SAGACIOUS
But the Prince Prospero was happy and dauntless and sagacious. When his dominions were half depopulated, he summoned to his presence a thousand hale and light-hearted friends from among the knights and dames of his court, and with these retired to the deep seclusion of one of his castellated abbeys. This was an extensive and magnificent structure, the creation of the prince's own eccentric yet august taste. A strong and lofty wall girdled it in. This wall had gates of iron. The courtiers, having entered, brought furnaces and massy hammers and welded the bolts. They resolved to leave means neither of ingress or egress to the sudden impulses of despair or of frenzy from within. The abbey was amply provisioned. With such precautions the courtiers might bid defiance to contagion.
Imprisoned in frenzied joy: ribbons of raspberry and red currant streaming through thick goat’s milk.
IT WAS FOLLY TO GRIEVE, OR TO THINK
The external world could take care of itself. In the meantime it was folly to grieve, or to think.
Ginger-squeezed champagne with crushed diamonds, orange blossoms, and peach blossoms.
THERE WAS BEAUTY, THERE WAS WINE
The prince had provided all the appliances of pleasure. There were buffoons, there were improvisatori, there were ballet-dancers, there were musicians, there was Beauty, there was wine. All these and security were within. Without was the "Red Death."
Gushes of black and red wine splattering damask rose and white pear, engulfed in thick clove incense.
A MASKED BALL OF THE MOST UNUSUAL MAGNIFICENCE
It was toward the close of the fifth or sixth month of his seclusion, and while the pestilence raged most furiously abroad, that the Prince Prospero entertained his thousand friends at a masked ball of the most unusual magnificence.
Opulent golden oudh, red benzoin, and bitter almond.
A GIGANTIC CLOCK OF EBONY
It was in this apartment, also, that there stood against the western wall, a gigantic clock of ebony. Its pendulum swung to and fro with a dull, heavy, monotonous clang; and when the minute-hand made the circuit of the face, and the hour was to be stricken, there came from the brazen lungs of the clock a sound which was clear and loud and deep and exceedingly musical, but of so peculiar a note and emphasis that, at each lapse of an hour, the musicians of the orchestra were constrained to pause, momentarily, in their performance, to hearken to the sound; and thus the waltzers perforce ceased their evolutions; and there was a brief disconcert of the whole gay company; and, while the chimes of the clock yet rang, it was observed that the giddiest grew pale, and the more aged and sedate passed their hands over their brows as if in confused reverie or meditation. But when the echoes had fully ceased, a light laughter at once pervaded the assembly; the musicians looked at each other and smiled as if at their own nervousness and folly, and made whispering vows, each to the other, that the next chiming of the clock should produce in them no similar emotion; and then, after the lapse of sixty minutes, (which embrace three thousand and six hundred seconds of the Time that flies,) there came yet another chiming of the clock, and then were the same disconcert and tremulousness and meditation as before.
The chiming of the clock: ebony wood and black pepper, narcissus blossom and tuberose, clanging with dull, heavy opoponax and thick olibanum.
THE TASTES OF THE DUKE WERE PECULIAR
But, in spite of these things, it was a gay and magnificent revel. The tastes of the duke were peculiar. He had a fine eye for colors and effects. He disregarded the decora of mere fashion. His plans were bold and fiery, and his conceptions glowed with barbaric lustre. There are some who would have thought him mad. His followers felt that he was not. It was necessary to hear and see and touch him to be sure that he was not.
The swirl of a thousand glittering vices: absinthe and laudanum, opium poppy and neroli, star anise and black currant, whip leather and iron shackles, gilded vanilla flower and King mandarin.
GLARE AND GLITTER AND PIQUANCY AND PHANTASM
He had directed, in great part, the moveable embellishments of the seven chambers, upon occasion of this great fete; and it was his own guiding taste which had given character to the masqueraders. Be sure they were grotesque. There were much glare and glitter and piquancy and phantasm -- much of what has been since seen in "Hernani." There were arabesque figures with unsuited limbs and appointments. There were delirious fancies such as the madman fashions.
Delirious fancies such as the madman fashions, arabesque figures with unsuited limbs and appointments: orris absolute and leather contorted by cherry and orange blossom.
A MULTITUDE OF DREAMS
There was much of the beautiful, much of the wanton, much of the bizarre, something of the terrible, and not a little of that which might have excited disgust. To and fro in the seven chambers there stalked, in fact, a multitude of dreams. And these -- the dreams -- writhed in and about, taking hue from the rooms, and causing the wild music of the orchestra to seem as the echo of their steps.
A blackened lavender mist, thick with opoponax, licorice root, and benzoin.
ALL IS SILENT SAVE THE VOICE OF THE CLOCK
And, anon, there strikes the ebony clock which stands in the hall of the velvet. And then, for a moment, all is still, and all is silent save the voice of the clock. The dreams are stiff-frozen as they stand. But the echoes of the chime die away -- they have endured but an instant -- and a light, half-subdued laughter floats after them as they depart. And now again the music swells, and the dreams live, and writhe to and fro more merrily than ever, taking hue from the many-tinted windows through which stream the rays from the tripods.
Dreams writhing to and fro, bubbling up from half-subdued laughter: pink peppercorn, jasmine sambac, and cypress bubbling up through half-subdued white lavender, stabbed through with streams of red musk and black currant.
THE NIGHT IS WANING AWAY
But to the chamber which lies most westwardly of the seven, there are now none of the maskers who venture; for the night is waning away; and there flows a ruddier light through the blood-colored panes; and the blackness of the sable drapery appals; and to him whose foot falls upon the sable carpet, there comes from the near clock of ebony a muffled peal more solemnly emphatic than any which reaches their ears who indulge in the more remote gaieties of the other apartments. But these other apartments were densely crowded, and in them beat feverishly the heart of life.
Night-blooming jasmine and cereus reflected through ruddy musk and crimson amber.
THE SOUNDING OF MIDNIGHT UPON THE CLOCK
And the revel went whirlingly on, until at length there commenced the sounding of midnight upon the clock. And then the music ceased, as I have told; and the evolutions of the waltzers were quieted; and there was an uneasy cessation of all things as before. But now there were twelve strokes to be sounded by the bell of the clock; and thus it happened, perhaps, that more of thought crept, with more of time, into the meditations of the thoughtful among those who revelled. And thus, too, it happened, perhaps, that before the last echoes of the last chime had utterly sunk into silence, there were many individuals in the crowd who had found leisure to become aware of the presence of a masked figure which had arrested the attention of no single individual before. And the rumor of this new presence having spread itself whisperingly around, there arose at length from the whole company a buzz, or murmur, expressive of disapprobation and surprise --then, finally, of terror, of horror, and of disgust.
Terror, horror, and disgust: a bowel-churning sweet clench of myrhh and green musk in a pool of suffocating black moss and a shock of white cognac.
THE SCARLET HORROR
In an assembly of phantasms such as I have painted, it may well be supposed that no ordinary appearance could have excited such sensation. In truth the masquerade license of the night was nearly unlimited; but the figure in question had out-Heroded Herod, and gone beyond the bounds of even the prince's indefinite decorum. There are chords in the hearts of the most reckless which cannot be touched without emotion. Even with the utterly lost, to whom life and death are equally jests, there are matters of which no jest can be made. The whole company, indeed, seemed now deeply to feel that in the costume and bearing of the stranger neither wit nor propriety existed. The figure was tall and gaunt, and shrouded from head to foot in the habiliments of the grave. The mask which concealed the visage was made so nearly to resemble the countenance of a stiffened corpse that the closest scrutiny must have had difficulty in detecting the cheat. And yet all this might have been endured, if not approved, by the mad revellers around. But the mummer had gone so far as to assume the type of the Red Death. His vesture was dabbled in blood --and his broad brow, with all the features of the face, was besprinkled with the scarlet horror.
When the eyes of Prince Prospero fell upon this spectral image (which with a slow and solemn movement, as if more fully to sustain its role, stalked to and fro among the waltzers) he was seen to be convulsed, in the first moment with a strong shudder either of terror or distaste; but, in the next, his brow reddened with rage.
"Who dares?" he demanded hoarsely of the courtiers who stood near him -- "who dares insult us with this blasphemous mockery? Seize him and unmask him -- that we may know whom we have to hang at sunrise, from the battlements!"
Blasphemous mockery: blood musk and vetiver.
A GROUP OF PALE COURTIERS
It was in the eastern or blue chamber in which stood the Prince Prospero as he uttered these words. They rang throughout the seven rooms loudly and clearly -- for the prince was a bold and robust man, and the music had become hushed at the waving of his hand.
It was in the blue room where stood the prince, with a group of pale courtiers by his side. At first, as he spoke, there was a slight rushing movement of this group in the direction of the intruder, who at the moment was also near at hand, and now, with deliberate and stately step, made closer approach to the speaker.
A sycophant’s polished stench: green musk fougere, lime, and rose-tufted wig powder.
A CERTAIN NAMELESS AWE
But from a certain nameless awe with which the mad assumptions of the mummer had inspired the whole party, there were found none who put forth hand to seize him; so that, unimpeded, he passed within a yard of the prince's person; and, while the vast assembly, as if with one impulse, shrank from the centres of the rooms to the walls, he made his way uninterruptedly, but with the same solemn and measured step which had distinguished him from the first, through the blue chamber to the purple -- through the purple to the green -- through the green to the orange -- through this again to the white -- and even thence to the violet, ere a decided movement had been made to arrest him.
Death unimpeded: bone-white sandalwood, dry cognac, and chilled ambergris accord.
A DEADLY TERROR THAT HAD SEIZED UPON ALL
It was then, however, that the Prince Prospero, maddening with rage and the shame of his own momentary cowardice, rushed hurriedly through the six chambers, while none followed him on account of a deadly terror that had seized upon all.
He bore aloft a drawn dagger, and had approached, in rapid impetuosity, to within three or four feet of the retreating figure, when the latter, having attained the extremity of the velvet apartment, turned suddenly and confronted his pursuer. There was a sharp cry --and the dagger dropped gleaming upon the sable carpet, upon which, instantly afterwards, fell prostrate in death the Prince Prospero. Then, summoning the wild courage of despair, a throng of the revellers at once threw themselves into the black apartment, and, seizing the mummer, whose tall figure stood erect and motionless within the shadow of the ebony clock, gasped in unutterable horror at finding the grave-cerements and corpse-like mask which they handled with so violent a rudeness, untenanted by any tangible form.
The wild courage of despair: a screech of blood orange and a splash of blood entangled in a corpse-mask of tattered white sandalwood stained with balsam and a grime-crusted winding sheet.
ILLIMITABLE DOMINION OVER ALL
And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death. He had come like a thief in the night. And one by one dropped the revellers in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall. And the life of the ebony clock went out with that of the last of the gay. And the flames of the tripods expired. And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.
Darkness, Decay, and the Red Death: blood musk and black tobacco, birch tar and bleeding cypress sap.
Listen to Poe’s complete tale here, on our YouTube Channel:
++ PICKMAN GALLERY 2018
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE:
ARKHAM’S PICKMAN GALLERY ACQUIRES CURIOUS COLLECTION OF GOAT ART, DEEMED ‘GREATEST OF ALL TIME’
Greatest Of All Time: Portraits of Genus Capra on view at the Pickman Gallery from September 22 to December 28, 2018, Arkham, MA
— On view from September 18 through December 28, 2018 at Pickman Gallery, Arkham, MA, Greatest Of All Time: Portraits of Genus Capra. Greatest Of All Time is guest curated by the Santa Fe Art Institute’s Antonia Vasquez-Thackeray, who also holds a degree in Livestock Science. In this first-of-its-kind exhibition, Mx. Vasquez-Thackeray explores the social co-evolution of humankind and goatkind, a history which stretches back at least 10,000 years. Researchers note that goat remains have been found at archaeological sites in Western Asia including Jericho, Choga Mami, Djeitun, and Çayönü.
Via their innate curiosity and horizontally-pupilled eyes, goats have enjoyed a unique view of human civilization, and our ancestors’ myths and legends have proven us nothing if not fearful of their scrutiny. “Our projections in terms of goat consciousness and goat archetypes have eclipsed anything a goat might tell us about us, or itself,“ Vasquez-Thackeray writes in the introduction to her upcoming MY GOAT, MY INQUISITOR, a salvo against the bias and anthropomorphism that has infected the relations between these two closely interrelated worlds -- but which carefully does not disavow the propensity for deceit, diabolism and witchcraft within the Caprian mind.
Greatest of All Time consists of works hand-selected to commune with our species’ most recent common ancestor. About this evolutionary MacGuffin, Max Robinson, Ph.D. Molecular Biology and Biotechnology & Evolutionary Genetics, University of Washington, has written: “Millions of years ago, there was some kind of animal that eventually evolved into both goats and humans. It probably had claws rather than hooves or hands. It had a liver, four legs, eyes, and a brain, just like humans and goats still do.”
Unfathomably, a lineage extends directly from that ancestor to this season’s exhibition, which will serve as a family reunion of sorts: several goats from Vasquez-Thackeray’s personal herd will be in residence as docents throughout the duration of the show. (Their reactions to the art as well as to the guests will be recorded via motion-capture and analyzed by individuals from SFAI, MIT, and, by special request, members of Arkham’s Thousand Young Lodge.
A BOAR AND A GOAT
18th century Russian lubok, illustrator unknown
Red amber, frankincense CO2 absolute, green fig, labdanum, King mandarin, Atlas cedar, and bitter almond.
A HOARD OF CREATURES WITH THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS BEFORE A TAVERN
Cornelis Saftleven
Peru balsam, leather, castoreum accord, frankincense, and hay.
A YOUNG BOY AND HIS BROTHER SEATED ON A GOAT
Christoffel Pierson
Polished mahogany, copal resin, Java sandalwood, teakwood, and Sumantran patchouli.
AN ENCAMPMENT OF SHEPHERDS
Tassili N'Ajjer, 4000-1500BC
Tonka bean, red clay, rose tobacco, and oudh.
ANIMAL ALLEGORY
Cornelis Saftleven
Dust, dry incense, parchment, and tobacco leaf.
BOY WITH GOAT IN A LANDSCAPE
Rudolf Koller
Grapevine and ivy, olive blossom, lavender, cypress, bay leaf, honey myrtle, Tuscany sage, and jasmine sambac.
CABRAS
Giuseppe Palizzi
Black pine, white sage, creeping ivy, and wild juniper.
EEN SATYR
Jacob Jordaens
A heavy, animalic musk with cognac, fir balsam, grapevine, black cypress, patchouli, honey, and copaiba balsam.
THE GOAT AND THE VINE
Harrison Weir
Golden apples, cedar and redwood trellises heavy with grapevine, beeswax, hemp, vanilla benzoin, and bois de rose.
THE GREAT HE-GOAT
Francisco Goya
Haitian vetiver, Egyptian amber, carnation, black musk, pomegranate, patchouli, and smoked ginger.
HALF-HUMAN, HALF-MONKEY BARBERS SHAVING A GOAT
Engraving by G. van der Gucht after J. Wootton
Bay rum, hay, dried alfalfa, aftershave, and cork stalk.
JACOB WITH THE DAUGHTERS OF LABAN
Louis Gauffier
Lebanese cedar, chamomile, frankincense, and cinnamon.
JUPITER NOURISHED BY THE GOAT AMALTHEA
Engraving by Jacques Jordaens
Goat’s milk, nectar, ambrosia, and honey.
LITHOGRAPH OF A MOUNTAIN GOAT
H Weir
White sandalwood, black pepper, muguet, agarwood, labdanum, and 3-year aged patchouli.
RUHENDE ZIEGE MIT KITZCHEN
Johann Christian Reinhart
Brown musk, leather, castoreum accord, white cedar, amber oudh, and clove bud.
STUDIE EINER ZIEGE
Pieter Boel
Sweet labdanum with clove, tobacco absolute, and guiac wood.
TWO SHEEP AND TWO GOATS RESTING TOGETHER IN A FIELD
A. Ducote
Sweet vetiver, bourbon vanilla, and wool.
VENUS PANDEMOS
Venus Pandemos
Hay, rose otto, red benzoin, torch smoke, and pink carnation.
THE WITCHES’ RIDE
Otto Goetze
Red roses and vetiver with cashmere incense, rue, and cauldron spices.
ZOE AND THE GOAT
Lorenz Frølich
Caramelized patchouli, cream, and thick golden honey.
++ HALLOWEEN: POMEGRANATE GROVE
About the pomegranate I must say nothing, for its story is something of a mystery.
- Pausanias
POMEGRANATE GROVE: ALICE
POMEGRANATE GROVE: DORIAN
POMEGRANATE GROVE: EMBALMING FLUID
POMEGRANATE GROVE: MOROCCO
POMEGRANATE GROVE: SNAKE OIL
++ HALLOWEEN: PILE OF LEAVES
Every leaf tells a story.
DEAD LEAVES AND MAPLE SAP
DEAD LEAVES, BLACKBERRY, AND RED PATCHOULI
DEAD LEAVES, GREEN COGNAC, IRIS ROOT, AND WHITE LEATHER
DEAD LEAVES, SWEET MYRRH, LEATHER, GREEN POMELO, AND RED CURRANT
DEAD LEAVES, BOURBON VETIVER, NAGARMOTHA, AND VANILLA ABSOLUTE
DEAD LEAVES AND RED CARNATIONS
DEAD LEAVES AND PUMPKIN SEEDS
DEAD LEAVES AND SCOTCH
DEAD LEAVES AND WARM SUGAR COOKIES
DEAD LEAVES, SWEET OAKMOSS, WHITE SAGE, AND CHAPARRAL
DEAD LEAVES AND VANILLA INCENSE
DEAD LEAVES, APRICOT, AMBERGRIS, AND TOBACCO
DEAD LEAVES AND COFFEE BEANS
DEAD LEAVES, BLACK TEA, AND TOBACCO LEAF
DEAD LEAVES, MAGNOLIA CHAMPACA, AMBERETTE SEED, PERU BALSAM, AND SUGARED CHESTNUTS
DEAD LEAVES, RED WINE, AND BLACK OUDH
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