#uncommon fragrance

[misslinala]

#beauty secrets #youtube #style #look #fashion #beauty #perfume #my perfume #CHIQIO #CHIQIO perfume #CHIQIO Forest child perfume #CHIQIO Forest child #forest child #forest child perfume #perfume review #review #cute #fragrance #uncommon fragrance #uncommon perfume #unisex perfumes #cool perfume #art perfume #art #creativity #best perfume #unique perfume #presentation #bottle #box

[aesthetikins]

this isn't a response to any request, i'm just online window-shopping again and wanted to shout out my favorite fragrance shop since i think the scents they sell can be pretty alterhuman friendly

demeter fragrance is my go-to for unhuman scents. smells that are hard to capture. they have a lot of florals, which is common for perfumes, but uncommon scents like asian pear, basil, and monk fruit. they have enjoyable but strange scents, like the ozone smell of thunderstorms, and the smell of freshly upturned soil (one of my favorites, the scent is called earthworm). they have some smells that are outright weird, like turpentine, funeral home bouquets, fresh tennis balls, and glue

if the sound of smells named things like riding crop, lotus, spacewalk, tarnish, and wet garden sound interesting to you, please check them out! their 0.5 oz/15ml cologne bottles are really conveniently sized. for a fragrance company that makes strange smells, their prices are really cheap. most of their scents can be bought as splash bottles, spray bottles, roll-ons, lotion, body wash, and body oil and have sampler spray bottles

#sundew spotted #this isnt sponsored /j i just really like their scents and think theyre unintentionally alterhuman af smells #otherkin #fictionkin #therian #alterhuman

[matchalovertrait]

OC Deep Dive Questionnaire Tag

A set of 20 questions to get to know your oc! I was tagged by @elderwisp :) thank you so much. To nobody's surprise, this will be about Dulce LOL

What uncommon/common fear do they have? I find this funny and ironic (kinda spoilery too for the future. If you know, you know) but she's scared of the dark.

Do they have any pet peeves? When people chew with their mouths open or double dip.

What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom? Polaroids, plants, and pretty things.

What do they notice first in a person? Their taste in fashion. She likes meeting all different kinds of people and finds their different styles fascinating.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how high is their pain tolerance? 7

Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure? It depends because she's neurodivergent but incredibly resilient. If she's not feeling too overwhelmed, she goes into fight mode and doesn't back down. If she is feeling way too overwhelmed, she'll go into flight mode and probably cry.

Do they come from a big family/are they a family person? Her immediate family is pretty small. There's her mom, Noemí, dad, Erick, and older brother, Ángel. Even though her parents had to work a lot in her childhood, she is still close to them and loves them immensely. Dulce and her brother have a really good relationship too.

What animal represents them best? A fox :) I talk about it more here.

What is a smell that they dislike? She doesn't like the smell of vanilla in fragrances! It's too strong for her.

Have they broken any bones? I'm surprised she hasn't...

How would a stranger likely describe them? Easy to talk to.

Are they a night owl or a morning bird? Morning bird, like the rest of her family. They start getting up at 4 or 5 in the morning, even on weekends.

What is a flavor they hate and a flavor they love? She doesn't like blue cheese. She doesn't get it and she probably never will. She loves tomatoes, though!

Do they have any hobbies? Cooking, posting on her Instagram, and playing basketball.

Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprises? Oh, she loves surprises!! And just being celebrated in general LOL. She would join in and start partying and posing for pictures.

Do they like to wear jewelry? Yes! I try to not add too many jewelry or accessories to her yet, because she's still a teen and I want to differentiate my teens and young adults more. However, she likes wearing gold earrings, rings, and necklaces like her mom. She wants a belly button piercing too but her mom would not like that 🙈

Do they have neat or messy handwriting? She has neat and cute handwriting, you will see that in a future post :)

What are two emotions they feel the most? Joy (bruh) and annoyance.

Do they have a favorite fabric? Nahhh, she likes all of them.

What kind of accent do they have? She lives in Tartosa, Italy, so she has an Italian accent. She also speaks English and Spanish because her parents used the one-parent one-language method with her and Ángel ever since they were babies. I imagine that Erick is from Ohio, so that's the accent that Dulce speaks with in English. Noemí is from Jalisco, Mexico, so Dulce speaks with that accent in Spanish.

I tag: @miralure @ruthplaysthesims @authorspirit @smulie @gooretrait

@babzyz @spicasims @anamoon63 @living-undead @stargirl-trait

@groovetrys @gaeulssims @mdshh @yugybee @nzrowe

@changingplumbob @linalinsims @simmenycricket @aurorangen @elysiantrait

@akitasimblr @windslar @peachypiichi @bouncytrait @wrixie

@cawthorntales @coatedinhoney @yibsygerbits @swallowprettybird @bloomingkyras

@ktysh @berrycactus @virtualfolk @deardiaryts4 @seriallovertrait

#tag game #more about dulce alegria

[raccoonfallsharder]

rocket raccoon prompt week ✷ day four family✷.⁺⋆˚₊

semi-romantic fluff | no use of yn | gn reader | minific | word count: 1,274.

The artificial daylight of Knowhere has gone from bright and pearly to bronze and slanted, and now it’s finally sunk low in velvet purples. The Star Kids don’t really have bedtimes because every adult here is a frickin’ pushover, so they’re dancing under the sleep-shift sky, all spangled and studded with tiny plasma orbs jingling on strings over the streets, glowing like warm white moons. 

It’s not an uncommon part of life on Knowhere — not anymore. Neither is the heartwrenchingly light laughter ringing out from the streets, from the rooftop bars, and from the second level of Mantlo’s, where the usual poker players have meandered out to the mezzanine in order to watch the celebration. 

Rocket leans back against the step where he’s slouched: tail flicking peacefully, ears swiveling to follow the sounds, nose twitching. The Star Kids smell like Indigarran peaches and moonlight, and there are lingering curls of Contraxian tobacco and Ssssaralami’s moonshine. The spiced fragrance of grilled orloni and yaro-stuffed pastries fill the streets. It’s all overlaid by a sugary scent: the bastardized Luphomoid honeycakes that you’d helped Nebula resurrect from her childhood, just especially for today.

Nobody knows when the Star Kids were born — if they were born at all — but you’d insisted there needed to be something to mark a birthday of sorts. 

Children need celebrations, you’d told him and Nebs one night over drinks, and Drax the Dad had enthusiastically concurred. And so this — the anniversary of the liberation of the Arête, of the children’s arrival on Knowhere — has suddenly become some sort of festival, some sort of revelry. Nearly every citizen of Knowhere is out on the streets: eating, dancing, singing, chattering. Ruffling the childrens’ hair. Steemie Blueliver has come down from the mezzanine, and the Star Kids take turns flipping themselves over his tree-trunk arms or letting him spin them over his head. Mantis had come back to visit — just for this, from the frickin’ ass-end of the universe — and she’d picked up Pete while she was at it. Both of them are laughing with Nebs and Kraglin, while Cosmo barks and prances in the center of a bright ring of giggling kids. A cluster of raccoons from the Arête watch from the rooftop of the laundromat: still young, but no longer babies. Their fur is glossy and their bodies are soft and round, and they keep an eye out for dropped street-food. 

And the music — the music is alive. It floats down the insides of Rocket’s bones: sweet and sparkling with little bubbles, like carbonated wine. 

Rocket takes another mouthful of his fruit-flavored milky-fizz — spiked with something you’d sneaked him before the festivities; you’d told him it was strawberry schnapps — and he watches. 

He catches it: the moment you clock him there on the steps. Your eyes crinkle at the corners when you smile, and it looks like you’ve got stardust in your lashes. You’re talking to Hoobtoe and Phloko, but you’ve only got eyes for him — warm, and inviting. He tilts his plastic carton toward you in a mockery of a toast, then clamps his teeth onto the straw and takes another sip. The skull’s ventilation systems kick on and a breeze sweeps delicately through the streets, teasing the scents of food and booze, and playing with the fibrous platinum strands of the Star Kids’ hair. Each child’s head is gleaming: pale and reflecting back dapples of radiance. Rocket swears that everywhere he looks — the tiny candles on the honeycakes, the plasma-orb string-lights, the wide eyes of the kids, and you — he can see halos and rays of light. Soft starbursts, and luminous, hazy hexagons. Little motes of crushed-up bone-dust, dancing in and out of the shadows like antigravity glitter.

A little curl of concern shows between your brows as you toss him another glance — he’d guess it’s hard for you to read him right now, because his eyeshine is probably throwing all that gorgeous light back at you. Like rubies, you’d told him once, which had probably been when he’d first started falling in love with you, if he’s being honest. Now, dazzling in the gold and shadow, you laugh at something Hoobtoe says, and you pat Phloko’s shoulder before weaving away from them — smiling at Xlomo Smeth and Ssssaralami, nodding your greetings while you walk past. You pause at the little table still stacked high with honeycakes.

And then make your way toward Rocket.

You tuck yourself next to him on the step, even when he doesn’t move — content to stay half-sprawled next to you, his arm draped casually across the stair behind your back. He looks up at you with his ruby-eyes, and then down at the honeycake in your hands. It’s got one of those teeny candles in it, lit up like a piece of amber held to the sun. You’re glowing in the gold of it,  warm and apple-cheeked — eyes all glimmery, just for him. 

“You okay?” you ask carefully.

He turns his eyes back to the streets so his heart doesn’t fall apart like the overblown petals of an autumn flower in his chest. The scene there doesn’t help though: everything is as warm as fresh-baked bread. Groot’s joined Steemie, tossing the kids in the air. Even Howard’s come down from the mezzanine, awkwardly patting the head of a child who’s taller than he is, while he tries to protect his cocktail from the jumble of bodies. Rocket eyes him, then snorts and shakes his head. A soft huff leaves his mouth: too short to be a chuckle, too affectionate to be a scoff.

“I’m good,” he rasps out. “Just thinkin’.”

“About what?” 

The corner of his mouth curves in a perplexed, uncertain little smile, like his head hasn’t caught up with the rest of reality. “‘Bout how I used to think I wanted to be alone.” 

He sips his milky-fizz. The strawberry schnapps warm his belly. Howard would love this shit, Rocket thinks. 

He reminds himself not to let the guy near it. 

“Why’d you bring that over?” he asks, nodding at the candlelit honeycake cupped in your palms. 

You reach toward him with it, lifting it for him: a sugar-sweet little offering. “Today is your day, too, you know.” 

He blinks up at you, a protest filling his mouth before he pauses and tilts his head consideringly. 

He supposes you’re right. He supposes he had been trapped on the Arête, for far longer than he’d realized. 

“Okay,” he says mildly, and he can see the way you startle at how agreeable he sounds right now. He shrugs, sets down the milky-fizz on the step between his feet, and takes the cake in his hand. “What’s with the candle?”

“Pete brought them,” you  tell him. “It’s a birthday tradition on Terra. A candle for every year.” You smile at him. “When you blow it out, you make a wish.”

He looks up at you, and then out at the wide glimmering lake of people, all shadow and shimmer. He turns the golden cake in his hand like he’s studying it: trying to read something in the fruit-infused icing and the amber-glow flame. Then he turns his eyes out again to the people of Knowhere: music and mirth and the joy of belonging. And from this angle — up close, and unhidden by eyeshine — you can see the moment when ironic amusement turns into something just a shade off of wonder. 

His fingers are usually so quick you can barely follow them — but now he reaches up with his other hand, almost lazily, and casually pinches out the wisp of candleflame. 

“I think I’m good on wishes, actually.”

there's that critical mass word-count. i personally think it is very cool of me that i took till thursday to break a thousand.

day three. emotionalistic ✷ day five. machinery rocket prompt week masterlist ✷ main masterlist rocket raccoon prompt week list

taglist ♡ @evolvingchaoswitch ♡ @glow-autumz ♡ @wren-phoenix ♡ @suicidalshitstick ♡ @pretty-chips

#rocketraccoonpromptweek #rfh fluff #rocket raccoon #guardians of the galaxy #rocket raccoon fanfiction #gotg fanfiction #rfh fanfic #gotg rocket #rocketraccoon #rocket gotg #drabbles #rocket raccoon x you #rocket x you #x reader #reader insert #gn reader #rocket racoon x reader #rocket x reader #gotg rocket x reader #gotg x reader #guardians of the galaxy fanfiction

[peashooter85]

Bathing during the Middle Ages (yes people did bathe regularly during the middle ages)

Medieval people were filthy dirty stinky people who didn't bathe. At least that's would the modern film industry has led people to believe. However this is far from the truth as Medieval people, like people today, did not enjoy being stinky and dirty. While people in the Middle Ages may not have the same standards of cleanliness as we do today as they lacked modern technologies such as running water with hot water heaters and showers, they still wanted to be clean. Well there were many towns and cities with plumbing and running water in the Middle Ages but not anywhere near on par with modern water technology (a post I shall do in the future). Regardless, bodily hygiene was important to stay comfortable, not get infested with lice, and prevent disease (while they didn't have any notion of germ theory, people did have a basic understanding that filth can cause disease).

For people who lacked running water, which would have been most people, the most common way to stay clean was by simple "sponge bathing" using a basin of water or wooden tub. This was done on a daily basis, often twice a day if you worked in a trade that would cause you to get dirty, such as a farm laborer. In addition, etiquette required that people wash their hands and face before meals.

When it came to having a real bath, any local water source such as a river, lake, or pond might do but one had to be careful as such water sources could be contaminated. A good, proper hot water bath was typically done around once a week. If you were a noble most likely you would have your own private bath with servants to draw up hot water and attend your every need. For everyone else you had two options; the public bathhouses and the charity bathhouses. Public bathhouses were for profit businesses. They could be old Roman baths that were still in operation or perhaps restored into operation with heated pools, they could be newly built buildings constructed for that purpose with heated pools, they could be simple buildings with small individual tubs, and in small towns and villages they could be something as simple as a set of large tents by a river. For Medieval peoples bathing at a public bathhouse was more than just an act of hygiene, it was a social event where one went to catch up on the latest gossip, play games, and socialize with the community.

Public baths also offered more services than just hot water, soap, and a tub, but would also serve beverages, food, possibly even entertainment. It was not uncommon for bakers to contract with the bathhouses, using the furnaces which heated bathwater to also bake yummy treats to sell to the bathers. In the late Middle Ages prostitution also became common in the public baths, and while illegal, bathhouses owners often skirted the rules, resulting in a reputation of bathhouses being houses of sin and debauchery.

BTW, soap did exist then, originally brought to Europe from Asia. It was mentioned in the Roman Empire in the 2nd century, and by the 6th century guilds were established in Italy for soap producers. By 9th-10th century soap was all over Europe. The most popular soaps were from Spain and Italy, especially Castile soap. Soap is easy to make and the materials were very common at the time, so if you couldn't afford it, often it could be made at home. Seriously soap is really easy to make, I did it back in 7th grade science class. There are numerous recipes online. In addition to soap, various herbs and spices could be used to ad fragrance to water and bathing oils. If you didn't have soap, for everyday use wood ash could be used to wash hands of heavy duty grease, as demonstrated by Modern History TV.

Charity bathhouses were often operated by the Church and were attached to monasteries or the local church building. While they served the monks or nuns of a monastery, they were open to the public free of charge so that even the poorest had the ability to bathe and keep clean. Church run bathhouses lacked the amenities of public bathhouses, but had everything needed to get the job done. In addition, church bathhouses were segregated by sex so that people would not, you know...

The Church also tended to operate baths at pilgrimage sites, since after traveling many miles, probably on foot unless you were a noble, across a dusty or muddy highway, you will probably need a good bath.

In the late Middle Ages into the 16th century bathing declined for a few reasons. First, medical theory began to shift claiming that bathing was bad for health, causing the skin's pores to open which let in disease. Second, remember when I mentioned the prostitutes? By the 16th century many public bathhouses had essentially become full blown brothels, resulting in respectable people avoiding them and many towns and cities banning them outright. Finally, after the Great Plague the populations of towns and cities began to skyrocket to the point that in the 16th century municipal sewage and water systems were over-stressed. This resulted in local water supplies becoming contaminated, and as a result fresh water became a precious commodity. Instead of bathing, people found water free ways to bathe such as smoke baths, sweat baths, and frequent changing of undergarments. Bathing wouldn't come back into popularity until the 18th century and especially the 19th century with the development of modern plumbing.

#history #middle ages #medieval history #baths #bathing #hygiene #Youtube

[starstruckserenity]

Heya! Hope you're having a good day and taking care of yourself!

I'm a fellow kokichi lover (bros just so silly), so I was wondering if I could request a kokichi x ultimate Demolitionist (bomb-user/maker!) oneshot where the two are a chaotic, mutually pining duo?

All good if not, and make sure to drink some water, 'kay?

Have a great day my guy!!

ahhh! thank you so so much for your kind words! :) this is such a unique idea, and on top of that, it is my first request!! i am so so sorry if this is a bit late (testing has been kicking my ass currently), so i apologize for that...! i hope you are having an amazing day! <3

oneshot will be under the cut! :)

You have always had an odd fascination with bombs. The smoothness of the outer shell enticed you, and the tiny spark of light when you lit the object thrilled you to no end. Some people thought of it as a... strange interest, especially the classmates you were practically forced to surround yourself with. Bombs combined with a killing game don't usually tend to be known as the perfect pair, and you knew this.

But in a way, it was entertaining to poke fun at unsuspecting individuals who were simply genuinely curious about your ultimate. Most were shocked, some found it to be terrifying, but one boy thought it was utterly and completely bad ass.

As you were just finishing up with your current project, a certain purple-haired someone bursted joyfully through the doors of your dormitory.

"Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!!!" A high pitched, whiny voice was approaching you at a face pace. You perked up, setting your pieces down and sighing playfully.

You didn't even have to turn around to know who it was. You swerved yourself around and were face-to-face with Kokichi Ouma, your newly found friend that you had become acquaintances with due to your chaotic and fun-loving behavior.

You two had hit it off ever since you had informed everyone about your talent. Ouma was absolutely starstruck with the amount of confidence you had. He was sure you knew that obtaining the title as "ultimate Demolitionist" was one that would make the average people around you cower in fear, but you announced it so effortlessly that it drew him to you.

You couldn't lie and say that you weren't drawn to him, either. You related to him. He was one of the only people to match your energy, and actually embrace it. It almost seemed like you were perfect for each other.

Snapping yourself back into reality, you stared at him.

"Hey, 'Kichi. What's up?" You smirked.

He stifled a laugh. "...You know what I want, Y/N."

You blinked a bit, pondering to yourself. You mentally sifted through the thousands of favors he wanted from you, and found yourself remembering what he had asked of you.

Thinking back to a few days ago, you recalled his whining.

"Come onnnn, Y/N! This is really important, y'know? Shuichi has been acting like a total asshole to me. I think he needs a good punishment." You had never guessed Ouma would pull of such good puppy-dog-eyes, but here you were, losing yourself in the color of his big, violet hues.

You deadpanned. "Kokichi, I am not making you a stink bomb to use on *him*. Shuichi is actually a good guy to me."

Kokichi whimpered, "Well, Y/N, I'm doing him a favor. His room would smell better with a new fragrance. He's basically asking for it, I can smell his cologne from across the hall!" You rolled your eyes, thinking of a compromise.

"Okay, how about this. You and me can go throw some stink bombs at Kiibo and Miu once we get the chance. It'll take a couple days for me to make it, but Miu has been way more irritating than usual."

Whooping in celebration, Kokichi sprang into you and embraced you tightly.

"Thank you, Y/N! Thank you, thank you! I promise, it'll be so much fun~!" He giggled into your chest.

You stood there in shock, your mind racing. You slowly regained your consciousness and squeezed him back in an uncommon moment of shyness.

"You're lucky that I'm your friend." You commented before reluctantly pulling away.

You turned back to your desk and pulled something out of the drawer closest to you. Kokichi clapped his hands cheerfully when he realized you actually made what he had requested.

In your hand was a tiny capsule that could release an unbearable stink when thrown from a distance. Ouma's eyes widened when he saw it, shaking in excitement. He snatched it out of your palm and ran towards the door, pulling you behind him.

"Ah, I can't wait anymore! Let's go, let's go!" He laughed while racing towards Miu's lab.

The rest of your afternoon was spent hiding in the bushes together, cackling at the reactions of the disgusted Miu and the gracefully unphased Kiibo. You were having so much fun that you didn't even notice Ouma glancing at your features from time to time, smiling to himself as you two relished in the moment.

#danganronpa x reader #kokichi x reader

[blackwoolncrown]

as an autistic person whose sensibilities and sensitivities have led them to avoid highly synthetic perfumes in body products, I need to tell y’all this:

a lot of common/cheap fragrances literally smell like ass.

the chemicals are not properly formulated to interact with skin pH like real perfume is, so it only smells good to you in the bottle/when you apply it (to me it smells offensive already but that’s not the point)

by the time the scent begins to change, your nose has already stopped responding to it since that’s how noses treat smells they get used to.

However, since that kind of fragrance is offensive and uncommon to me it stands out and that’s why I need y’all to know-

it’s not just that chemical-y fragrances are too strong. It’s that half the time they end up smelling like literal actual ass B.O. Like a fart covered up w cheap potpurri.

#can you tell I am near someone who uses this stuff #she exits her room in the morning #nd i genuinely can’t tell if what I’m smelling is lotion and farts #or just cheap lotion fragrance #but it doesn’t matter bc I know for a fact this also goes for many deodorants #they smell literally SO bad on skin #like hot fish and an old public bathroom w a glade plugin in it

[one-winged-dreams]

Blossom

ship: what do angels dream of (adriel x angeal) source: final fantasy vii word count: 859

A FIC based on that thought I had trying to fall asleep last night. (Just in time for Bee to finish her own fragrance fic XD)

Time to look for one irl I guess. 👉👈

tag list: @dearly-beeloved @camellias-and-coriander @rebel-wolf13 @edencantstopfallininlove @mahitoslittlebird @goldenworldsabound @sunstar-of-the-north @sosoftandsweet @dorothys-wife @faerie-circle-ships @kylars-princess @little-miss-selfships

The idea was fleeting at first.

Just an idle thought born of the not-uncommon romantic fantasies that accompanied Adriel in his everyday routine. Married life, though not having been especially long so far, had done nothing to deter those fresh-crush-like feelings of romantic ideation. On the contrary, it seemed, at times, to only have made them stronger.

As he sat, filling out his logs for the week, he was once again taken by the pangs of romance.

‘But what if I…’

- - - -

Ordering the fragrance had been a split-second decision, an impulse purchase done on his phone at work. And each hour after made his stomach twist with apprehension, as one would feel preparing to confess their feelings to a crush.

The day it arrived, he had thankfully, in a benevolent twist of fate, been the only one at home. The box sat on the coffee table for a few moments as Adriel paced, self-doubt settling in with the nerves.

Would he like it? What if he thinks it's dumb? He didn't want to humiliate himself - if the gesture were to prove embarrassing…

No. Angeal was his husband, his sworn life partner. He would never make Adriel feel bad for an honest attempt at being romantic.

Steeling himself with a deep breath, Adriel finally opened the package, staring down at the charmingly chic glass bottle inside.

It took an even bigger attempt at steeling himself to actually pick it up, increasing in difficulty until it finally sprayed upon his neck in a fine mist.

Freezing, he dared not inhale, suddenly apprehensive that the scent wouldn't be what he had been looking for. But even as his breath held, the gentle, floral scent permeated his senses. He wasn't especially familiar with the scent in question, but this was… Pleasant.

And so he waited, stomach and heart fluttering in unison until the two leaped as the door finally opened.

“Not too late, am I?” Angeal asked apologetically as he closed the door behind him.

Adriel immediately stood to greet him, helping him shed his jacket as doting wives were wont to do.

“Not too much, it's okay,” he breathed, his nerves easing by a margin just seeing his husband after a long day.

“Hm. Good. I hate leaving you alone, you know,” Angeal, once free of his snow-covered coat, offered his wife a smile.

As Angeal leaned down for his welcome home embrace, Adriel’s heart skipped a beat. This was quickly washed away in the wake of the pre-embrace kiss, soothing him as it transitioned into a tight hug that had Angeal leaning to bury his face in the crook of Adriel's neck.

There was no reaction at first, the fragrance taking a moment to register. But as soon as it did, Angeal froze with a sharp inhale, holding Adriel for a few beats more than usual.

“That's…”

“D-Do you like it?” Adriel couldn't help but blurt out, eager now to receive a reaction.

Pulling away finally, Angeal questioningly blinked down at him.

“I do, yeah. Did you-?”

“Mh,” Adriel nodded shyly, before looking down at his feet, “I wanted to wear something nice for you. And I thought since…” a shrug, “Apple blossom might be… ideal…”

Angeal looked incredulous for a moment before he chuckled, a wide smile spreading across his lips.

“Oh my angel, you really are determined to get me to fall more and more in love with you every day, aren't you?” Angeal delighted in the blush and squeak the comment rewarded him. Once again, he pulled Adriel into a tight embrace, taking a deep breath to take in the scent. He was overcome by nostalgia for a moment, exhaling slowly through his nose as he buried himself in the warmth of his wife and the scent that stirred his heart with a range of emotions, “It's beautiful, I love it. It suits you well,” as he sighed once more, content, he placed a kiss to Adriel's shoulder and then one on his cheek as he straightened himself.

Adriel let out his own sigh, placing a hand upon Angeal's chest and looking up at him in adoration as a shy smile formed.

"I'm so glad you think so. I was worried it'd be a bit…"

"Too romantic for words?" Angeal returned the smile, his notably more playful.

Adriel scoffed, flustered before averting his gaze once more.

"I- I was GOING to say trite, but if that's what you think then…" he trailed off before his smile returned back upward, "I'm happy."

"Well, so am I. Very much so. Like I said, it suits you. I guess I'll have to take you out more if it means you'll wear it for me, hm?" Angeal teased again, bumping the bottom of his wife's chin.

Adriel squeaked, eyes widening.

"But that's-!

"No trouble at all," Angeal finished for him before letting out an amused huff, "Besides, your ideas of a good time are hardly expensive."

Muttering, Adriel refused eye contact again, "If you think so…"

"Maybe I'll even let Genesis drag us out to see Loveless next time. Show those upper class thespians some real charm."

"Ah! No, wait-!"

#self ship #self shipping #virus fics #what do angels dream of

[miles336]

I would like to request yandere Papyrus fontcest please!

Dirty Laundry (Fontcest)

Papyrus brought Sans’ jacket to his nose. Inhaling the scent. The saccharine fragrance was lolling his senses; he could feel pseudo-flesh manifesting from beneath his trousers. Already. 

For the first time in forever, Sans had thrown his dirty laundry into the hamper. Papyrus was—ecstatic. And yet, curious as to why. 

It was rare for Sans to toss his shorts into the pannier, much less his entire wardrobe—especially his jacket. Something Papyrus never had the chance to wash. Ever. 

Perhaps Sans was getting another job? Although it was strange to consider him adopting a new duty to his already busy schedule. Regarding as to how many jobs Sans was currently balancing at the moment, It would be odd—or just plain stupid—to get an extra one. 

Gently, Papyrus lowered the garment. Eyeing the defiled azure fabric. Peculiarly. 

Maybe there was a special occasion coming up—a birthday? Gyftmas? April fools even?  

Or—

…

Papyrus shook his head. His thoughts were getting the best of him; he was thinking too deeply about this. Most likely, Sans just—thought his clothes needed a wash, that’s all.

Yea, that’s it. And besides, Papyrus should savor this moment. It was an uncommon one, after all; he wouldn’t get a chance to be so intimate with Sans’ clothes for a long time after this.

He raised the jacket back up to his nasal. Taking another whiff of the soft material, he filled himself with Sans’ cloying scent.

—&—

“SANS.” He groaned, letting the ‘S’ drag out. Of course, Sans would be here. Why hadn’t he thought to look for his brother here in the first place?

Swiftly, he nudged open the bar’s door. The immediate warmth of Grillby’s cozying up to his parky bones. It was vast compared to the quiet, wispy chill of Snowdin. 

The familiar faces and voices of the dog sentry greeted him. As well as the other bar patrons. However, Papyrus had no time to bother with them. He needed Sans home; it was getting late. 

It didn’t take any effort to spot his brother. He smiled brightly as he heeded that known jacket. 

Right in the center of the bar, perched up on a stool, was his brother—

His brother.

Sans

Sans, who was—cuddling with Hopkins, had her arms wrapped around his boney neck as their laughs outweighed every other patron's vocals. They were so close. So—carnal.

Papyrus blanched. Stepping back an inch. And then another inch. And another, until the bar door slammed shut on its own. He flinched hard. 

The whole world became hazy. Why was she so close to him? Why was he letting her touch him like that? Even around Papyrus, Sans was sensitive about his neck. About touch. So why did—

Why did he let her? 

Papyrus stalked back to his house. Unable to hide the globs of tears blurring his vision, He was unable to pick up his phone and dial Undyne’s number. He was unable to call out to his flowery friend and cry and whine to him.

He was unable to stop his soul from burning. Burning from—what felt like—betrayal

—&—

Sans stumbled in, drunk. 

Papyrus clenched his teeth. Barely able to look at his brother—his betraying, backstabbing brother. 

He sat on their lumpy couch, with one knee atop the other as he sat ornately. Trying not to burst into tears at the sight of a lipstick smear tinseling Sans' clavicle. 

“Sup, bro,” Sans giggled, limping towards the furniture. “I was wonderin’ where y’where.” 

He staggered to the floor, far too drunk for his own good. 

Papyrus scowled, almost disgusted. A part of him wondered if that bunny roofied Sans’ drink. Another part regarded that his brother had just been careless with his alcohol tonight.

“Ya shouldn’t stopped me, Papyrus.” He hissed, flipping over to lay on his back. His dozy eye lights bore into Papyrus’s hollow eye sockets.

His hand was raised above his head, reaching for Papyrus. 

“Alp me up.” He winked drowsily. 

With a quick motion, Papyrus snagged Sans’ hand. He yelped. Startled at the pull. He was lifted off the ground so quickly.

He was face-to-face with his brother, who was giving him a fierce, sharp glare. 

“What’s with th—“ Papyrus shoved his face into Sans’, their teeth clanking together. Harshly. A red ecto tongue lapped at his teeth, making Sans gasp. Papyrus tasked it as an entrance. Pushing it inside his brother’s mouth.

The ticklish sensation of something running through his mouth forced Sans to form his own tongue. 

He balled his clammy hands into fists. His drunken mind not even processing what was happening—Papyrus was kissing him? Papyrus was—

He screamed, his voice overcast by the sloppy kiss. Their tongues rivaled, Papyrus’s ruling over his. 

The wet organs intertwined. Mixing together into a flurry of purple saliva. 

Papyrus’s hand groped Sans’ neck. Trying to appear more like lovers. 

Sans let his tongue fall flat, losing the energy to shift the ecto around. Papyrus beamed, exploring his big brother’s mouth. 

Eventually, Papyrus pulled away. Panting; exhilarated from their make-out. He gave Sans a cheeky grin. 

“YOU’RE MINE. YOU KNOW THAT, RIGHT, BROTHER?” He lifted Sans’ into his lap. 

“What—what are you—what?" Sans couldn’t form a sentence. This was—all too much.

“THAT DISGUSTING RABBIT—SHE’S TRYING TO TAKE YOU AWAY FROM ME.” 

Papyrus nuzzled his jaw to Sans’ neck. He embraced his brother. He warped his arms around his back, securing him. Keeping him locked within his grasp.

“SHE DOESN’T DESERVE YOU. SHE DOESN’T KNOW YOU LIKE HOW I DO!” Papyrus hummed. Sans’ eyelights dispersed. His brother was talking about Hopkins.

“HOW HORRIBLE OF YOU TO LET HER HAVE YOU, ASWELL.” Those brooding arms squished Sans from inside of them. “DON’T WORRY. I FORGIVE YOU, THOUGH.” 

“I’LL ALWAYS FORGIVE YOU.” 

“Please—stop.” 

“YOU BELONG TO ME. NOT HER—NEVER HER.” 

“Papyrus—“

“I LOVE YOU SO MUCH—SO MUCH. WHY CAN’T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?” 

“Because I don’t love you like that!” Sans howled, clawing at Papyrus’s battle body. His brother fell silent. 

“Yer my brother,” he murmured. “I like ya as my brother.” 

“Papyrus.” Sans whispered. Burying himself into Papyrus’s scarf. “Let’s just forget about all this.”

“IT’S BECAUSE OF HER, RIGHT?”

“No—“

“IT'S OKAY. I DEALT WITH HER. YOU’RE TOO DRUNK TO KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT, SANS.” Papyrus chortled, rubbing circles into Sans’ back. Sans opened his mouth to deny it—yet he didn’t.

He hadn’t realized it at first, but Papyrus’s scarf smelled a lot like dust.

-

Thank you so much for the request! I hope you enjoyed this!! (I didn’t get this beta read—so sorry if there’s any mistakes)

#fontcest #Sans x hopkins #papysans #Ecto tongue #i’ll add more later #No skeleton sex unfortunately

[konjaku]

春蘭[Shunran] Cymbidium goeringii

春[Shun] : Spring

蘭[Ran] : Orchid

Native to East Asia, and it grows in thickets and other places. The size of its flower is from 3 to 5 centimeters and the height of the flower stem is about 20 centimeters. They say that the flowers of the Chinese one have a good fragrance, but this one had no scent even when I got very close.

It is not an uncommon flower. But, at this time of year when flowers are still scarce, I feel a little bit happy to find it blooming among the deciduous leaves under the mild sunlight.

Some people grow it as a garden plant, and some people eat its buds and flowers as wild vegetables. It has always been a rather familiar plant. Also known as 爺婆[jijibaba]. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spirited_Away#Voice_cast

#flowers #nature #japan #nihongo #original photography #langblr

[cloaksandcapes]

This item holds a very special place in our artist @butturdapple's heart so expect an illustration one day. Also, if you're a fan of the Mothman you HAVE to share this post!

Mothman Musk

Potion, uncommon “The bottle for this magical fragrance is a sleek, sapphire-tinted glass shape like an open flame and etched with the silhouette of the elusive Mothman. Its onyx stopper resembles moth wings. The fragrance blends cedarwood and jasmine. ‘Mothman Musk’ is inscribed in silver script.”

This potion has 1d4+2 applications. It can be applied using a bonus action. Any creature with fey origins or ancestry that comes without 30 feet of you has disadvantages against your spell save DC and when making ability checks against you. The effects of the musk last for one hour.

Join us on Twitch every Mon\Wed\Fri to create new Homebrew and check out our Patreon for 388+ magic items and more.

#D&D #DnD #Dungeons and Dragons #DnD5e #Homebrew #Magic Item #TTRPG #DnD Homebrew #TTRPG Homebrew #Homebrew Magic Items #DnDaDay #Mothman Musk

[etherealacademia]

for the perfume - english major x2, history minor, published author, currently working in archaeology. VS bare vanilla secondary scent always and forever. autumn vibes, could live in the light academia aesthetic more than i actually live it lol, sad to finish my master's thesis + grad school and considering a phd, want to be the warm comforting presence in any situation to any person even if it's 100+ degrees

i've been repping MM's whispers in the library for years now (with many compliments) but now that it's been discontinued (😭), i want to reserve it (and the extra bottles i bought) into only a september-december/january scent instead of year round. but i just CANNOT find anything i like to translate to spring or summer!

tysm you have no idea how many samples sets i've bought and struggled through

As a whispers in the library wearer who loves vanilla fragrances, these aren’t dupes or even close to it in terms of scent profile, but they feel appropriate based on their vibes.

 Osmofolia’s What a Spellcaster leaves behind #2 https://osmofolia.com/en-ca/products/what-a-spellcaster-leaves-behind-perfume-oil-duet 

Poesie Velvet Moon https://www.poesieperfume.com/poesie-x-uncommon-smells/velvet-moon-indie-perfume-oil

Commodity Book Personal (to match the more intimate sillage of Whispers in the library, but with a brighter, fresher scent profile, since whispers is warm and dry) https://www.awin1.com/cread.php?awinmid=19581&awinaffid=1556544&ued=  (this is my affiliate link that i literally just got today, but I’ve been wearing commodity fragrances and singing their praises for a year)

#fragrance #dark academia perfume #dark academia #asks

[cartelheir]

things your muse will notice about mine. ( repost, don't reblog. )

WHAT THEY LOOK LIKE. like a million dollars. always dressed in good quality elegant outfits and adorned with jewelry, patricia is hardly ever seen looking casual, even if it means she has to sacrifice her comfort in other to be at her best appearance always. it's not that she doesn't trust her natural beauty; she knows her features are quite striking, but sees her natural state as lazy and unkept. other than her jewelry, her signature look consists of a red lipstick, hair styled into a blowout and soft curls, and tailored clothes that hug and accentuate her curves rather than hiding them.

WHAT THEY SMELL LIKE. she owns a lot of perfume bottles, but 90% of the time she'll reach for cartier or dior. it should come as no surprise that she enjoys the classic, glamorous fragrances. she's not one to apply too much, just enough. she also smokes semi-frequently, so it's not uncommon to catch her smelling like cigarette smoke.

WHAT THEY TASTE LIKE. aw i'm not good at this one i'm sorry hgfbdhg normal ig. lips taste like whatever lipstick or lipgloss she's wearing.

WHAT THEY SOUND LIKE. she has that kind of higher-pitched, ever so slightly raspy voice, and a bit of an accent when she speaks english. when talking, specially if in a group of people, she tends to get carried away and raise her voice without even realizing it. she enjoys singing too, and her singing voice is what most would describe as a disney princess voice: sweet and strong, with an affinity for high notes as opposed to low ones, even though she can reach quite a wide range.

WHAT THEY FEEL LIKE. like a wild fire: bright, intense and contagious. there's nothing about patricia that's subtle, subdued or tamed; she was meant to be seen, heard, and felt to the full intensity of her personality, for better of for worse. physically, she feels warm to the touch, and surprisingly soft considering the rough front she puts up. very rarely you'll find someone who has neutral feelings about patricia. she's the kind of person you either love or hate, or both at once.

tagged: @samuhelll thank you!! tagging: @parieur / @flmed / @artmadc / @r4bidog / @feilien / @c-louise / @jungtaeju / anyone else who hasn't done this pls steal and tag me in it so i can see it!

#hc tag tbt #i dont like any of my tags rn i really need new ones 😭

[slavicafire]

I found a beautiful beautiful perfume company called Sucreabeille, through the podcast Old Gods of Appalachia. They have the most interesting batshit scents, and i gleefully went through their whole collection, getting all exited to order a bunch of samples, only to find out upon trying to check out, that they don't ship to Europe. (i'm guessing because they're a US based company and the guidelines in the EU are different for cosmetics)

i am thouroughly heartbroken and inconsolable. I almost got a perfume that smells like the floor of a forest and blood, only for it to be ripped from my hands at the very last second.

ah yes, it is the heartbreak that is, unfortunately, nearly always the consequence of daring to look for perfumes and other sorts of wondrous concoctions outside of one's continent.

one consolation is this: you can find perfumeries in europe that will carry the fragrance combination you long for - neither the forest nor the blood is uncommon nowadays - with the added benefit of being either cheaper to purchase and ship or hopefully available in samples or returnable.

because, trust me, the perfumerie's description and intended scent might vary so wildly from what you end up smelling on your skin that it is a quest of trial and error that one should not despair over too much.

have hope - and may you be lucky in your endeavor to find a scent to match your soul's wildest desires. or we can always just roll around in some fresh carrion on the forest bed, either or.

[forthegothicheroine]

@allthestoriescantbelies wip meme!

A Ghastly Tragedy: An OSR Adventure

One painting: Vengeance is Sworn by Francesco Hayez

Two teas:

August Uncommon Teas' Breathless

Harney & Sons Royal English Breakfast

Three beauty products:

Besame Blood Red Lipstick 1922

Maybelline Pomegranate Punk Eyeshadow

Four fragrances:

Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab Othello

Juliette Has a Gun Lady Vengeance

Lubin Black Jade

Dior Poison Girl

Five songs:

"Toccata" by OVERWERK

"A Hair on the Head of John the Baptist" by Saltillo

"Miserere" by Michael Nyman

"A lean and hungry look" by Marianne Faithful

"Apres Moi" by Regina Spektor

#wip #roleplaying games