#Lemon Evergreen

[belladazeblog916]

art collection!

here’s some of my ocs! Hope y’all like ‘em!

In order

Mono “Mon-Mon” (he has no last name) Bandit Abel

Claudia Ronshoku

Lemon Evergreen

Silvia Daze

Silver “Silvie” Daze

[trekkiedean]

anyway I mostly roll my eyes and ignore Dean’s Sexuality Discourse these days, because let’s be real at the end of the day we’re all just projecting and going off of vibes. but when one interpretation is framed as somehow being the more mature, enlightened take? the one where eventually, when you are older and wiser, you will come to understand and accept this higher truth? I just. girl. bro. pal. buddy. comrade. esteemed colleague. my dearest friend. we are discussing where a fictional character from a cw show wants to stick his dick. neither of us has the intellectual high ground here. there is no intellectual high ground to be had. this is what you personally vibe with. it’s fine. let’s all just acknowledge that and we’ll all be so much less annoying and probably come off as a lot less unintentionally [other sexuality]phobic in the process

[spider-stark]

PRECIPICE

Aegon II Targaryen x Sister!Reader

Summary - Forced to attend a stuffy ball, you find yourself hiding beneath a table with Aegon.

Warnings - implied targcest as always

Word Count - 4.5k

// masterlist // send me your thoughts //

The delicious aroma of roast mutton is wafting over you as you pass one of the many long serving tables lining the walls of the ballroom. Your gaze drags along the vast spread that has been prepared for tonight; a variety of artisan breads, cooked meats, and candied desserts are laid out upon silver serving dishes. 

As you reach the end of the first table, a pile of lemon cakes snag your attention. Neatly stacked atop an ornate porcelain platter, the cakes are coated in a thin glaze that shimmers in the light. Your mouth instantly begins watering at the sight, your stomach growling in a way that would be deemed improper for a Lady. 

Beside you, holding a plate that has been loaded with mashed potatoes and honeyed chicken, Jace turns his head to cock a brow at you.

“Hungry?” He asks, chuckling softly. 

You suck in a deep breath before forcefully tearing your gaze from the cakes. “Extremely.” 

It takes an enormous amount of will power to turn away from the serving table while still empty-handed, but you somehow manage to do just that. Having hardly even walked a few steps, though, Jace is abandoning his plate to rush after you, softly seizing your wrist to keep you from moving any further. 

“If you’re hungry, then you should eat.” 

His concern is obvious, not only through his tone, but his expression as well. With his furrowed brow and tight-mouthed frown, you’re fairly certain that he’s already considering the consequences of dragging you back to the table and feeding you himself if need be. 

Jace had always been that way—not only with you, but with everyone. He was kind hearted and considerate to fault. 

“I would,” you smile, shaking your head slightly to dismiss his concern, “but I’m afraid that if I do, I might very well pop right on out of this ridiculously tight corset.” 

You wave an idle hand down to your waist, unnaturally cinched by the intricate lacing and boning of the garment beneath your evergreen gown. His eyes follow the motion, tracing along the intense curve, lingering for a moment too long. 

The explanation seems to wash away much of his concern, relieved to know that discomfort was the only reason you had chosen to abstain from the treats being served. Even so, a touch of empathy remains, accompanied by the faintest hint of desire gleaming in his amber gaze. 

Amber—an unusual color for a boy of Velaryon blood. His eyes were one of the many reasons that your mother, the Queen Alicent, felt so confident in labeling Princess Rhaenyra’s boys as bastards behind closed doors. And, if you were being honest with yourself, you knew that there was likely truth to her claims. Your nephews probably were bastards—but you didn’t particularly care. 

Jace was nice to you, and that was all that had ever mattered to you. 

He clears his throat, realizing that he had been gawking at your body for far longer than he should. “It looks uncomfortable,” the words spill out without permission, and you nearly laugh when his eyes go wide. “That didn’t come out right, nothing about it actually looks uncomfortable—it looks stunning! I mean, you look stunning! It’s just that, I don’t know, I imagine that having something squeeze you so tightly might be-” 

“Jace, it’s okay! Truly,” you interrupt his rambling with a soft giggle. “You should know that I’m not so easily offended,” you playfully chide. “Besides, you’re right. It is quite uncomfortable!” 

Actually, quite felt like an enormous understatement. But you didn’t figure that Jace was particularly interested in hearing about how your breasts were aching from being roughly shoved up by the tight garment. 

Jace looses a breath, his shoulders sagging in relief. “Then why bother wearing them? Many noble-women go without corsets. Even my mother hardly ever wears one—she believes they’re vile things that only aid in the objectification of ladies.” 

Your brows rise, agreeing with the claims of your half-sister. But then you let your attention shift to the dais, meeting the rough stare of the reason why you had been forced into the tortuous garb—your mother. 

She’s already watching you when you meet her eye, her lip curled as she sends you a pointed look, silently urging you away from your nephew. It takes a great deal of effort not to shrink beneath the weight of her attention, and you’re beyond grateful for the group of women who shuffle past you towards the dance floor, giving you an excuse to break the hold she has on you. 

“I wear it because my mother wishes for all of her children to look their best,” you answer, shifting your focus back onto Jace. “And who am I to disappoint the Queen?” 

He notes the sudden callousness of your tone, as well as the way you clasp your hands together at your waist, fidgeting with the golden ring on your index finger. He doesn’t bother asking if you’re okay, however, knowing well enough that you were not—and already knowing why, as well. 

You imagine that Jace doesn’t much like your mother; both for her part in the rumors spread about him and his brothers and for the way she has treated his mother. 

It makes you upset in a strange way, a part of you always wishing to defend the Queen, no matter how abhorrent her actions. After all, she was your mother—whether you like it or not—and you knew very well that if someone were to try to hurt you or your siblings, then she would gladly lay her life on the line for you. 

You were thankful for her; even if her protection hurt, even if her maternal love only exists when your life is at stake.  

“Speaking of your siblings,” Jace suddenly notes, veering slightly off-subject as his own stare drifts towards the dais, “how did Aegon manage to weasel his way out of attending tonight?” 

Your brows snap together before letting your head snap back towards the dais, managing to avoid your mother’s nasty stare this time by looking to her right, taking note of each of your siblings. 

Aemond is sat directly by her side, his posture rigid as his eye scans across the room, alert and on-guard as usual. Next to him is Helaena, leisurely picking at her plate of food and mindlessly bobbing her head along to the symphony being played for court musicians. Daeron, who your mother insisted fly Tessarion here from Oldtown so that he might be present for tonight, is sat next to your empty chair, making idle chatter with those around him. 

But Aegon’s chair, sat between yours and Helaena’s, is vacant. 

A knot forms in your stomach when you look back at Aemond, his piercing violet eye catching yours, gleaming with a silent order—find our imbecile brother before he makes a fool of us all. 

You give him a curt nod before looking away, head whirling as you begin searching the crowd around you for any sign of your eldest brother. 

“Simple,” you huff, “he didn’t.” 

Jace hums his understanding as you politely excuse yourself, turning away from him to begin shoving through the throng of people filling the room. 

You decline invitations to dance and spout excuses as to why you can’t stop to chat as you push past noblemen-and-women from various Houses, trying to maintain the pleasant persona your mother favored while still moving fast enough that you might find Aegon before he finds any new ways to publicly bring shame upon the Targaryen name.  

It’s exhausting work—and by the time you have shoved yourself to the other end of the room without finding him, you nearly consider giving up. Your chest hurts and your scalp is itching from being poked and prodded by a dozen or so pins, all of which had been meticulously placed by servants to arrange plaits into a fanciful half-updo. 

In many ways, you look like your mother; with your elaborate hairstyle and green dress, the look is tied together by a pendant of the Seven-Pointed Star dangling from your neck. 

And, in many ways, you hate it. 

Much to the Queen’s dismay, you’ve never much liked the elegant styles preferred by many women at court. No, instead you spent much of your time donning mail with your hair lazily pulled back, joining Aemond for practice in the training yard. 

She hated how unrefined you were, how indelicate you were; fearful for how others at court might view you for it, for how much attention you might draw to yourself. 

You blow out a sigh, resisting the urge to pull all of the pins from your hair as you will yourself to keep walking, to keep looking for Aegon. A table overflowing with carafes of arbor wine and flagons of ale catches your attention, setting off alarm bells in your mind. 

If Aegon were going to choose anywhere to hide at this godsforsaken ball, then it would certainly be in close proximity to the alcohol. 

A cacophony of laughter and clinking goblets surrounds you as you approach, scanning over rows of bottles and skimming the faces of those nearby. Spinning your ring on your finger, you walk along the entire length of the long serving table, disappointed when you reach the end of it and find that your brother is still nowhere in sight. 

Chewing on your cheek, you fight the urge to pour yourself a drink when you notice a carafe of blackberry wine. The plum colored liquid seems to call your name, singing promises of sweet oblivion, an escape from the restless feeling clawing at your chest. 

You’re out of place here in court, and you always have been—you know that, and you worry that everyone around you knows, too. 

Sensical enough to recognize that alcohol would likely just exacerbate your current ill-feelings, you shun the carafe and turn towards the grand entrance. Lifting your chin and squaring your shoulders, you try to appear more composed than you feel as you saunter towards the large wooden doors. 

If Aegon had snuck off with one of the serving girls, then there was a good chance that he was still somewhere in the hall, either flirting or feeling up their skirts. And, if you were wrong, then at least he had provided you with an excuse to slip away from this mess of a ball. 

As you pass by the last serving table, the platters and dishes atop it already thoroughly picked over, you feel someone tug at your dress. You whirl around, a fiery retort already falling off your tongue, fully intending to rip into whoever had found the audacity to touch you without permission—only to find yourself insulting the air. 

There was no one there, at least not close enough to have touched you. 

For a heartbeat you begin to reel, wondering if you’ve started to lose your mind before feeling the sensation again. A sharp tug at the fabric, just by your knee. Your head snaps down towards your dress, covering your mouth before a gasp can slip your lips. 

An arm is peeking out from beneath one of the finely embellished tablecloths, and a well-groomed hand is clutching your skirts. You instantly recognize the hand as Aegon’s, having become intimately familiar with your brother’s touch throughout your life. 

Taking a step closer to the covered table, you try to look natural as you hunch over it slightly to get closer to his level, feigning an interest in a half-eaten roast duck. 

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing, Aegon?!” Your voice is hushed, not quite a whisper, but low enough so that no one other than him might hear. 

Releasing his hold on your skirts, Aegon lifts the tablecloth a little higher, revealing his face. “Get under here,” he tilts his head, motioning for you to join him beneath the table. 

“No!” 

He swiftly presses a finger to his lips in response to your incredulous shout, shushing you. You stiffen, nervously flicking your eyes to each side, checking to ensure that no one had heard you. Fortunately, the courtiers around you appear far too invested in their conversations and drinks to notice how you appear to have shouted at a roast duck. 

Aegon’s lilac eyes are wide, pleading as he shoves the tablecloth up higher, giving you more room to slip beneath it. “Would you just shut up and come?” 

It’s the sheer urgency of his tone that piques your interest, although you wish that it hadn’t. You huff out an annoyed sigh, taking another look around the room before gathering up your skirts and sinking to your knees, crawling underneath the table. 

Once you’ve successfully sat down beside him on the stone floor, he drops the cloth, shielding the two of you from any prying eyes. The material is thin enough that it allows some light to pass through it, very dimly illuminated Aegon’s grinning face, all urgency having suddenly vanished. 

“Welcome,” he almost sounds breathless, the word airy—and utterly unnecessary. 

You can faintly see the rosy coloring of his cheeks, a few messy silver waves tumbling across his face, and you’re immediately willing to bet that he’s extremely buzzed. “What are you doing, Aeg?” 

Your tone is firm, but there’s a certain gentleness to it that was specially reserved for your eldest brother. While you maintain that you love all three of them equally, it’s undeniable that your relationship with Aegon has always been… different. 

He reaches to his side, lifting a carafe from the ground beside him. “Having a party,” he says, raising it towards your face and playfully swirling the garnet colored liquid. 

“I’m unsure if you’re aware,” you motion towards the cloth shrouding you from the bustling ballroom, “but our mother has already planned quite the celebration for tonight—and she likely does not wish for it to be ruined by her drunkard son ducking beneath tables like an imbecile!” 

Aegon pokes his bottom lip out into a pout. “Why must you assume that I am drunk?” 

“Because you’re you,” you drone, cocking your head at him, “and you are always drunk.” 

Rolling his eyes, he sits the carafe down on the ground between you. There are only mere inches separating the two of you, both of you squeezing your limbs close to your body to avoid having a foot peek out from beneath the table. Sitting this close to him, you can smell the sweetness of the arbor red of his breath—as well as the faintest hint of sulfur, a sign that he had clearly gone riding on Sunfyre earlier and had failed at washing off the dragon’s strong scent. 

You take another breath, inhaling the smell of him into your lungs. It was familiar—comfortable, urging your taut muscles to slacken in his presence. 

“And what if I told you that I am sober right now?” 

A snort escapes you, sparing him an incredulous look. “Then I would call you a liar,” you tell him, tapping a finger against the rim of the half-empty carafe. 

His stare drops down towards it, watching as the liquid ripples when you pull your hand back. When he looks back up, he’s wearing a crooked smile that makes your heart flutter. “Mostly sober, then.” 

It’s nearly impossible to stifle your laugh, clamping a hand over your mouth so that you might muffle the sound and prevent passersby from becoming suspicious. The sound only makes his smile grow wider and more genuine, an expression that he graced very few people with. 

“I’ll ask again,” you say, speaking only when you're confident that no more laughter will tumble out. “Why are you down here? If mother finds out then she will be furious and-” 

Aegon tosses his head back, cutting you off with a groan. “Mother will be furious no matter what,” 

Disdain drips from each syllable, thickening the air around you. He didn’t like talking about her much, and you couldn’t blame him for it. Of all your siblings, Aegon had been dealt the worst hand, simply by being born first. He got the brunt of your mothers vile behavior; and you hated that, too. 

“Because,” lazily rolling his neck so that he can look at you again, he answers, “I’d rather spend my night under here,” he flicks a hand up, lazily gesturing around himself, “than be forced to sit through even one more tedious speech from some ancient Lord of gods-know-where!” 

You bite your tongue, holding back another laugh. 

“And,” he continues, nodding in your direction, “I am now saving you from the same mundane fate. You’re welcome.” 

“What makes you think that I needed your saving?” You ask, brows rising. 

Aegon purses his lips, placing a finger against his chin as he feigns contemplation, studying the intricate styling of your hair, the modest long-sleeved gown, and the Star resting against your covered breasts. “Perhaps it was that our mother has you dressed up as though you’re an aspiring Septa.” 

Thinking of the plain women, with their simple gowns and traditional head coverings, you nearly laugh again as you ask, “How many Septa’s do you know that wear corsets and jewelry, brother?” 

“None,” he admits, shoulders lifting into an indolent shrug. “Though, if they looked more like you, then I might finally have a reason to attend prayer. Beautiful women would be more than enough to turn me into a pious man.” 

A warmth creeps up your neck as blood rushes to your cheeks, unsure if his statement was meant as a compliment—was he saying that he found you beautiful? If so, it shouldn’t have been a particularly shocking revelation. After all, Aegon had complimented you before, many times. 

In all fairness, however, most of those times had been when he was thoroughly besotted. He had a habit of sneaking into your rooms and practically draping himself off of you, muttering drunken nonsense about how breathtaking you were. You had never placed much truth in the statements though, assuming that Aegon likely didn’t even recognize who he was speaking to, much less whose bed he had crawled into. 

But even if this was a genuine and mostly sober attempt at complimenting you, the flattery of it doesn’t last nearly long enough. Your own insecurity washes back over you far quicker than you like, reminding you of just how unlike yourself you currently feel. 

“I do not believe that anything would be capable of turning you into a pious man,” you joke, trying and failing to cover up the melancholy that has settled into your bones. “Not even beautiful women.” 

“You could.” 

The answer comes far too quick, spilling from his tongue with an eagerness that even seems to catch him by surprise. 

“Though, I must say, for as exquisite as this dress makes you look,” his hand reaches across the short expanse dividing you, mindlessly running his fingers along the fabric covering your shoulder, “I much prefer the way look in armor—sweaty skin, messy hair, sword in-hand—all of it.” 

Your breath catches in your throat as his touch drifts towards the center of your chest, fingers dragging along the thin chain leading to your pendant, lifting the Star into his palm. He stares at it for a moment before yanking it roughly from your neck, grinning when you yelp. “But this,” he lifts the Seven-Pointed Star slightly, “I absolutely hate.” 

With that, he tosses it from underneath the table, sending it skittering across the floor beyond the tablecloth. 

Your jaw drops open, a hand pressed against the now-sore spot along the back of your neck. Despite yourself, your lips start to curve into a playful smile. You try fighting against it, try pressing them into a firm line, but fail. “Mother will not be happy about that-” 

“She’s never happy,” Aegon interjects. His own expression shifts, the line on his forehead deepening as he says, “Do not let yourself bear her misery. Life is too short—and you deserve more than that.” 

A palpable silence is thickening the air, and your breathing seems to synchronize as you simply stare at one another. 

Slowly, nervously, you say, “I’m not sure what it is that I deserve,” 

“You deserve,” he pauses, lips still parted despite the absence of speech. Then, swallowing back the words that had been building in his throat, he says, “you deserve whatever it is that you want, sister.” 

Your hand falls from your neck into your lap, and you avert your gaze, watching your fingers as they fidget with your ring. “And what if I do not know what I want?” 

Once, you had thought that you wanted a life like Jaces. A happy life, with a mother that knew how to love you and siblings that hadn’t been raised in fear of their half-sister ascending the throne, taught that their very existence was a threat to her power. But, suddenly, you felt as though you were no longer sure. 

Aegon hesitates, watching you carefully. His lilac eyes appear as though they’re searching for something within your own—a hint of recognition, or reciprocation. If he found what he was looking for, then you were unaware. “Then you’ll figure it out,” he sighs, his smile not reaching his eyes. “You have all the time in the world to decide.” 

There is something reassuring about his statement, making it resonate with you in a way that you hadn’t expected. You look up, holding his gaze for a heartbeat, then two, and you almost swear that you can see it—the silent invitation, the plea to delve deeper into his words, to decipher exactly what it was that he was promising you. 

You have all the time in the world—all the time in the world to decide if he might ever be something you want. 

Suddenly you find yourself dancing on the edge of a precipice, chest tightening as you grapple with the idea that, maybe, something more might exist between you and Aegon. 

That, maybe, he had always known who he was complimenting and what bed he was slipping into. 

That, for him, it had always been you. 

“Aegon, I-” 

He shakes his head, cutting you off before you have a chance to say something that he fears you may regret. Then, sliding the carafe between you to the side, he scoots closer. “If you plan on staying under my table,” he teases, clearing his throat, “then we need to do something about your hair.” 

“I thought you said I looked exquisite?” You stay still as he starts toying with the strands, trying to swallow the tumult of your own emotions. 

Aegon’s plucking various pins from your hair, tossing them to the ground. “Yes, but I also said that I prefer your hair when it’s messy. It’s more…” he sucks in a breath, unable to hide the admiration swelling in his chest when he finally exhales, “you.” 

Your cheeks are burning hot, and you’re suddenly very thankful for the lack of light around you. On instinct, you almost tell him how your mother wouldn’t agree—but then you think better of it. 

“You’re… generous.” 

Something about your voice sounds foreign in your ears. You sound nervous—and you’re not used to feeling nervous around Aegon. 

His fingers are combing through the plaits forming your updo, his brow drawn taut, framing his lilac eyes, shining bright with concentration. “Generous,” he snorts softly, nails raking lightly against your scalp as he shakes the strands loose, “I don’t hear that one often.” 

“Well perhaps you’d hear it more if you weren’t such an ass,” you shoot back, slowly trying to slip back into your usual self. 

“Me? An ass?” He’s untangled the final braid, scooting away from you slightly now as he presses a hand to his chest, feigning innocence. “Never.” 

Now falling in loose waves, free of those incessant pins, you brush your hair over your shoulder. “Just earlier I heard you telling Lord Grover that if wisdom were measured in wrinkles that he would be named Grand Maester.” You point out, unable to mask your amusement while recalling the old man’s shocked expression. 

“Is it not true?” Aegon smirks. “The man is nearly seventy, and his age certainly shows.” 

“Lord Grover is only two-and-fifty, brother.” 

His brows shoot up, gaping at you. “Tell me that you’re not serious!” When you nod, confirming that you are, he sucks his teeth. “Wow—how unfortunate. He looks positively dreadful for his age, then. I thought that he surely had one foot in the grave by now.” 

“Aegon!” You rebuke through your own sputtered laughter, shaking your head at his insolence. “See? This is what I was talking about! If you weren’t so crude then you might get more compliments.” 

Swinging his arm back to grab for the carafe, Aegon’s nose scrunches slightly. “Why bother?” He implores, a hint of mischief in his tone. “My crudeness is what you like most about me, is it not? Without it, dear sister, your life would be quite boring.” 

Just before he brings the carafe to his lips, he inclines his head towards the tablecloth, emphasizing his words. A reminder—that, without him, you would still be out there, sitting miserably amongst your siblings and being forced to dance with Lord’s twice your age. 

There was something more beneath the veil of humor and arrogance, however. A craving that had him tipping the carafe back, hoping that the stinging of the alcohol might numb his gnawing desire for validation—to hear you say that you yes, my life would be boring without you. 

“I suppose you’re right,” the admission has him pausing, the carafe lingering against his bottom lip. “Truth be told, I had never put much thought into it before, but you do have a way of keeping life interesting, Aeg. So, I must agree that, without you, my life would be positively dreadful.” Staring at the ground in-between you, you smile before adding, “After all, who else would be able to convince me to risk our mother’s scorn and crawl beneath a table to drink wine and fix my hair?” 

There’s a slight tremor in his voice when he speaks, trying to mask the warmth swelling in his chest, “You have yet to drink a single drop.” 

“Then I suppose that is the next thing you’ll have to fix,” you say, sticking your hand out towards him, urging him to pass you the carafe. He hands it to you while biting back a grin. 

“Careful,” he warns, “drink too much and you may end up like your drunkard brother.” 

“I don't mind,” You mirror his expression, your own lips curving as you raise the glass upwards, the strong scent of the arbor red stinging your nostrils. “I quite like my drunkard brother.” 

His gaze burns against your flesh as you tilt your head back, allowing the alcohol to slip over your tongue, and you suddenly realize that you are no longer standing on the edge of that precipice. 

You’re falling.

a/n - i was honestly just thinking about jude and cardan hiding under a table in the cruel prince and ended up with this? so yeah, definitely inspired by jurdan content (but y'know... no coup d'etat lmao).

[rachalixie]

what stray kids' kisses taste like.

bang chan's kisses taste like warm tobacco and vanilla, a hint of sweetness and smoky sultry ash combining to make a swirl of campfire smoke in your mouth. his teeth are as sharp as the flames as they sink into your bottom lip, soothed by his marshmallow tongue. 

lee minho's kisses taste like rum soaked cherries, indulgent and sweet with a hint of bitterness that cuts through like colors on a stained glass window. he stains you completely red, the traces of his mouth against your skin leaving marks that can’t be covered up even if you intended to. 

seo changbin's kisses taste like sweet moscato, sweet with hints of grapefruit and raspberries, bubbly as he drifts along your tongue. he leaves you giggling against him, drunk off of the feeling of his lips on yours, kissing you again and again and again until you’re panting for more sips of him.

hwang hyunjin's kisses taste like roses and strawberries, floral and sweet and almost too much but never overwhelming. his lips feel like dainty petals against yours paired with the sweetest strawberry of his tongue dancing as fluidly as his limbs when he’s performing. 

han jisung's kisses taste like cinnamon and cloves, a bit of cardamom peeking through, as complex as a steaming mug of chai on a cold night. the comfort of your coziest socks as the heat from his mouth transfers to yours, making you melt against him like frost dripping off of evergreen trees. 

lee felix's kisses taste like lemon cupcakes, sweetness accompanied by the sharp bite of citrus that meld together in perfect harmony. creamy delicate swipes of tongue against lemon bites with his teeth that leave your head spinning. 

kim seungmin's kisses taste like crumbly butter biscuits, melting on your tongue, complemented by crystalized pieces of salt that cut through the sweetness with sharp fervor. the spice of freshly cracked black pepper comes through late, a welcome surprise hitting your head and making your eyes flutter shut. 

yang jeongin's kisses taste like salty ocean water, he hits your palette and makes you crave more and more. there’s sunshine dancing against your teeth as they meet, his tongue soothing the ache with the scent of sea breeze and fresh coconuts flowing through the air around you.

[parfumery-wiki]

The Original Eight & Bob (eau de parfum) Eight & Bob Nose: Albert Fouquet

Woods

The most exclusive perfume created by Albert Fouquet exemplifies chic sophistication.

Designed for both men and women alike, this classic scent is suitable for a modern-day aristocrat.  

Rosy notes of Pink Pepper blended with the subtle spice of Cardamom and garnished with the zesty hint of Lemon, evoke a contemporary tone; while notes of Labdanum emit an intricacy reminiscent of the sweet, fruity, woody aromas of twentieth century Paris. Amber and Sandalwood undertones accentuate the warmth of this refined scent.

Top notes: Cardamom, Lemon, Pink pepper Heart notes: Evergreen wood, Labdanum, Violet leaves Base notes: Amber, Sandalwood, Vetiver

[verysium]

i got a eros pur femme perfume (and everyone complimented me so far for its smells 😋) so i got to ask, What do you think boys smell like? like natural smell or some deodorant/parfume?

🤭 lucky for you anon there's actually official blue lock perfumes lurking somewhere out there in the ether. i did some research for you, so here's a fragrance note compilation (with additional headcanons):

RIN ITOSHI

top notes: lemon, eucalyptus, lavender

middle notes: rosemary, geranium, vetiver, nutmeg

base notes: guaiac wood, herbal green, musk

hc: rin smells like lavender. notice how there's a period there and not a question mark...that's because it is a solid factual statement. i'm guessing the lavender came either from his laundry detergent or shampoo. currently leaning towards the latter. rin definitely uses women's shampoo.

SAE ITOSHI

top notes: thyme, eucalyptus, galbanum, bergamot

middle notes: rosemary, lavender, orange flower

base notes: cedarwood, hinoki, patchouli, sandalwood

hc: sae's hands perpetually smell like orange peels, and you cannot change my mind. it's a concentration exercise he does on long flights to keep his mind off the airplane anxiety. tries to peel them in a perfect spiral without breaking off any fragments. rin tried to copy him and failed miserably.

NAGI SEISHIRO

top notes: spearmint, lavender, vanilla

middle notes: peppermint, violet, carnation, muguet

base notes: heliotrope, amber, musk

hc: nagi is vanilla (in every sense of the word.) i'm surprised he even smells good. will give him some due credit and say that the spearmint comes from him using listerine mouthwash, so at least he keeps up with his dental hygiene.

REO MIKAGE

top notes: bergamot, eucalyptus, peppermint

middle notes: clove, rosemary, cedarwood

base notes: tonka beans, moss, musk, amber

hc: he smells like peppermint because his boyfriend smells like peppermint. enough said.

BAROU SHOUEI

top notes: lime, bergamot, plum

middle notes: clary sage, tea, ambrettolide, cedarwood

base notes: agarwood, amber, musk, incense

hc: barou's fragrance being limes was not on my 2024 bingo card, but i do agree with him smelling like plum tea and incense. i guess the lime scent just comes from him using cleaning spray all the time. probably the type to buy scented hand sanitizers too.

BACHIRA MEGURU

top notes: neroli, mint tea, honey

middle notes: petitgrain, jasmine tea, cyclamen, muguet

base notes: musk, white cedar, iris

hc: bumblebee bachira is canon. he smells so sweet. like childhood dreams and cheerios.

ISAGI YOICHI

top notes: lemon, orange, clary sage

middle notes: muguet, orchid, heliotrope

base notes: vetiver, crystal musk, white cedar, tolu balsam

hc: isagi smells refreshing amen. the only other scent i would add to this is jasmine. he seems more floral than citrusy to me.

CHIGIRI HYOMA

top notes: bergamot, lemon, lilac

middle notes: ylang ylang, mandarin, spike lavender, sandalwood

base notes: cedarwood, fruity citrus, musk, amber

hc: chigiri doesn't need perfume. he is the perfume. he smells like spring personified.

KUNIGAMI RENSUKE

top notes: galbanum, leafy green, lime

middle notes: nutmeg, lavender, violet, rosemary

base notes: tonka beans, musk, cedarwood, labdanum

hc: i feel like it's obvious to everyone that kunigami is going to have a significantly manlier scent cus every panel of him during the neo egoist league arc is literally just him sweating directly through his uniform. the only sane way i can describe this is that he would smell exactly like a pine tree forest. woody and evergreen. he and barou have similar scents because they both have gone through the same masculine rite of passage. smelling like lime = very manly.

[jillraggett]

Plant of the Day

Thursday 22 August 2024

In the protection of this Polycrub a Citrus × microcarpa (calamondin orange, Panama orange, Philippine lime, calamansi lime, acid orange) was thriving and covered in fruit. This small evergreen tree has white, fragrant flowers which are followed by small yellow-orange fruit, which are used like lemons or limes and taste somewhere between a lemon and a satsuma.

Jill Raggett

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Hello M! I saw you were open to writing for characters for GOT/HoTD, so I was wondering if I could send in a request for Aegon the Conqueror x fem! reader (non-Targaryen - maybe Nymeria's sister?) with the prompt 'Gift giving'? As for smut level, if possible lemon please, if not default or lime are perfectly fine too! Thank you and have a great rest of your day :)

Hello! Nymeria actually lived and died long before Aegon’s birth, and the princess ruling Dorne during Aegon’s time was already eighty or so, so I will write this fic with the reader being princess Meria’s great-niece instead. I hope you like it.

Pairing: Aegon the Conqueror x Fem. Reader (House Martell/Great-niece of princess Meria | Second person POV)

Themes: Soft | Smut

Warnings: Size kink | Kissing | Penetrative sex | Cream pie

Wordcount: 1.3K words

Summary: The day after his return to Dragonstone, Aegon receives his first gift on the day of gift giving

Rating: 🔥🔥| Minors DNI | 18+ | You are responsible for the media you consume.

A/n: In this version, Visenya and Rhaenys are merely Aegon’s sisters, and not his wives. I also write the seasons running for three months each, instead years and years.

Divider by @estrelinha-s

The Dornish custom of gift giving during the winter solstice was not unheard of in the other kingdoms, but they, besides the Northmen, were the only people to practice such a custom. Once King Aegon took a Dornish princess to wife and adopted many of their ways, his own kin started to exchange gifts as well.

The dreary holdfast that was Dragonstone was awash with black and crimson banners bearing the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen, and black and crimson bunting besides. Sprigs of evergreen clung to columns and windowsills, adding to the color that cut the chilling white of snow.

When Aegon opened his eyes, it was to the sound of a bell chiming. It was still dark out; the sun was obscured by thick clouds bearing more snow. Aegon hoped it was morning and that he had not slept through an entire day. His journey to Volantis was a triumph. It was also long and tiresome. Now he was home, and he did not have to think of leaving again for quite a while.

“Good morrow, my love.” Relief surged through him when he heard your greeting. It was indeed morning, and he had not, as he had feared, slept for a full day. “Did you sleep well?”

“Like the dead, sweetling.” Aegon threw back his pelts and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. The room was still warm; someone had added fresh logs to the fire. He suspected it may have been you, and he was grateful for it. “Is everything ready for tonight’s feast?”

“It is.” The featherbed was comfortable, and the pelts were soft against your skin. Still, you opened your eyes and sat up in bed. The appointed hour for the giving of gifts was still a long way away, but you wanted to give Aegon his before breaking fast. “And I have something for you.”

“You need not trouble yourself, my lady,” Aegon replied. He watched while you slipped out of bed and slid into a thick robe. He felt a stirring in his blood, a yearning. He decided the first meal of the day would have to give way to more pleasurable diversions. “I have a great many treasures already, you most of all.”

“True, my lord,” you agreed, and then blushed after hearing his praise. Aegon was now king. The immense wealth of gold and jewels of House Targaryen was his to use as he saw fit. Nevertheless, today was the day of giving gifts, and you padded across the room and opened the doors to your wardrobe. There, safely concealed between gowns of velvet and silk, was a heavy object wrapped in leather. The king sat up in bed, his eyes full of ravenous curiosity. “But I thought of giving you this all the same.”

“What have you there?” He inquired. His fingers twitched in anticipation. For nigh on half a year, the two of you shared the same chambers as husband and wife. You dined together and shared the triumphs and trials of ruling a great kingdom together. This, however, was his first true festival with you, and he did not know what to expect.

“I carved this myself,” you confessed, and you placed the parcel on the bed. Worry consumed you the entire time. Aegon had received many a fine gift in his life, and you prayed your own would pass muster. “It took quite a while, and I had to make sure you never came upon me making it.”

“Oho! You made it yourself, is it? Now I have to see it.”

Despite the many cares and expectations that came with wearing a crown, Aegon still possessed the enthusiasm of one free of such. He loosened the thin ribbon and drew away the leather.

“It is you and Balerion,” you explain, and run your finger along an unfurled wing. They were the hardest to carve. One night, you despaired that you would not get them right. “That was how I remembered seeing you for the first time. When you arrived at Sunspear, to ask my great-aunt Meria for my hand.”

Aegon lifted the piece of carved wood and studied it intensely. He admired the embellishments along Balerion’s body: the scales all over his underbelly, the horns on his head, and the sharp spines going down his tail. Then there was Aegon himself, perched on Balerion’s saddle, his crown atop his head. The king was deeply moved. All the wealth he possessed did not compare with this.

“I will treasure this always.” Aegon placed the carving on the chest of drawers next to his side of the bed. He decided to have the carving placed in his council room, on the mantle beside the painted table. “And I have a gift for you as well, my lady. For now, come here.”

He did not give you time to frame a reply and pulled you back into bed. Thoughts of gifts and feasts and celebrating were all but forgotten after his kiss. He was exceedingly gentle as always, stroking your arms, your thighs, his mouth hot and sinful while it plundered yours. Your hands found their way into his hair. He trembled and kissed you harder, moaning into your mouth when those same hands moved lower and clutched desperately at his back.

“Temptress,” he growled when nails dug into his flesh. Aegon slipped his hand over your belly, and loosened the sash of your robe. The rush of warm air made goosebumps prickle all over your skin. He trembled again, this time when you slipped out of it and wrapped your legs around his thighs. Your husband was big, and wonderfully so. You felt it even more when he slid that rigid part of him inside of you.

It hurt a little, even though you were more than ready. And it felt glorious at the same time. Every time he drew his erection out and then pushed it back in, flames sparked to life and surged through your veins.

“It is wonderful to be home again,” Aegon whispered in your ear. And it was not just him who thought so. You felt the same, and you reciprocated his sentiment by kissing him with fire and passion. Aegon nearly faltered, his hips and back now burning with effort. The room felt hotter, and the air was thick and sweet. His cock twitched within the warmth of your body when he felt a coiling deep in his belly. Faster he went, driving you deeper against the featherbed as he chased his release. It was too much. The pleasure was too much. The sensations that came whenever he pushed himself in were too much. Bliss—pure and otherworldly—rose and dragged you into a dark tunnel you did not seek to escape from. You could not think. All you could do was feel: the trails of fire that lashed at you and left you weak, and your very body slowly dissolving into a kind of pleasure that had no name. Then you heard it—your name spilling from your husband’s lips, and the deep, guttural cry that followed. Aegon thrust one last time before he stopped, and went still. 

Later, after he forced himself to move away from you, he admired his gift once more and then inquired after his sisters.

“Rhaenys has built a small mountain of gifts, her ladies tell me.” Aegon hooted when you told him. “Most of it will be given away to our guests during the feast. Visenya has only prepared tokens for us, for Rhaenys, and for no one else.”

“At least she has crafted a token for you, which is a miracle in itself.” Visenya, having expected Aegon to wed her according to the traditions of their House, was wroth when he chose a Dornish bride for himself. She had been cold and aloof for most of your marriage to her brother, but during the the last turn of the moon, there was a softening in her stance, an attempt to meet you in middle ground. It gave you hope for a much stronger bond with her in the future. “Send for the servants, sweetling. I think it is only proper for you and I to share a bath.”

[greenwitchcrafts]

Thyme

Thymus vulgaris | Thymus serpyllum

Known as: Common thyme & garden thyme

Related plants: There are hundreds of species of thyme. Some members of the genus thymus are aromatic evergreen herbs in the mint family Lamiaceae (Like shown) that include basil, mint, rosemary, sage, savory, marjoram, oregano,hyssop lavender, catnip, bee balm, salvia, wild dagga, oriental motherwort & perilla

Parts used : Leaves

Habitat and cultivation: This shrub is native to southern Europe from the western Mediterranean to southern Italy. It thrives in medium-dry, sandy, loose & well drained soils.

Plant type: Perennial

Region: 2-10 with zones below 5 using both mulch and protections from frost damage.

Harvest: Anytime

Growing tips: This plant does the best in full sun in a well draining container. Like rosemary, it is very hard to grow from seed and therefore should look into cuttings or getting a starter plant from a nursery. I highly recommend lemon thyme.

Medicinal information: Thyme contains the compound thymol, which can help control or neutralize some bacterial, parasitic, fungal, or viral infections and have  anti-inflammatory properties.  been used to strengthen the lungs, purge the body of  phlegm, as a remedy for shortness of breath, to kill worms. It was applied as an ointment to remove “hot swellings” and warts, and to ease pains in the spleen, the loins, and hips.

Cautions: Fresh and dried thyme is generally safe to eat or drink as a refreshing tea. But essential oils are different. They’re highly concentrated and can be toxic in their undiluted form. Ingesting too much thyme in essential oil could cause a risky drop in your blood pressure. 

Magickal properties

Gender: Feminine

Planet: Venus

Element: Water

Deities: Faeries

Magical uses:

• Place under your pillow to prevent nightmares & to ensure a restful night's sleep

• Wear in your hair to make you seem irresistible

• Plant in your garden to attract faeries

• A little under your tongue is said to allow you to see faery folk more clearly

• Make and infusion in boiled water & add to your bath to help you release the past

• Carry thyme with you to help develop psychic powers

• Smell to steady nerves, invoke courage & attract good health

• Burn to clear negative energies attached to you and renew them

• Hang to bring peace to a sad or angry space

• The ancient Greeks used it in their baths and burnt it as incense in their temples, believing it was a source of courage

[rockingrobin69]

Beast of a thing

“What can I get you?” asked a loud voice, and Harry rubbed his face till his eyes burned.

“Hmm?” was clearly not the right answer.

“Coffee? Seems like you might need one. And something to nibble on. Sweet or savoury?”

“I,” Harry said, which wasn’t that much better. The—person?—who kept pestering him was smiley and extremely bright-eyed. Leaned down to him over a dark-blue apron, half-conspiratorial, half amused.

“Sweet, I should think.”

How rude. Harry crawled in here to die peacefully, not be badgered about fucking coffee. But a few seconds—minutes?—later there was more bustling, and someone placed a cup right next to where he was holding his head. It smelled hot. It smelled good.

Before he could even make the decision, Harry’s hands grabbed it and—oops—spilled a little, never mind. Yeah, it burned. Yeah, whatever. Harry raised the cup with a shaky fist and sipped something horrible and scalding hot. He felt, absurdly, and for the first time in—he felt a little bit like a person again. How fucking embarrassing. How fucking inaccurate.

“There you go, darling,” this time armed with a scone. The smell of clotted cream made Harry’s eyes roll back, made him choke. The jam was even worse, so sweet he nearly gagged. “This should cheer you right up.”

He nearly, nearly laughed. Was too busy growling, rubbing his pointy teeth against his inner lip. Something in his expression must have finally registered with the perky waiter, since they hurried back, tray cluttering as they hit something. Harry could finally go back to his—

“What now?” to the movement from the corner of his eye, but—the smell hit him first, hit harder. Lemon zest and evergreen forest. Something so pleasant it made Harry whimper, made him close his eyes. The newcomer used this reprieve to sneak into the seat next to Harry, so close their knees were touching.

“What do you want?” Harry asked, or whined. It hurt behind his molars, it hurt in the pit of his stomach. The touch, the unbelievable pressure coming from deep, deep inside.

“Hello to you too, Potter. You’re not an easy man to find.”

“Not an easy man,” Harry managed.

“Not a man,” Malfoy countered.

“Not,” Harry, “interested. Go back to the Ministry and—”

“So you really haven’t heard? I quit.” When Harry chanced a look, Malfoy was busy examining his fingernails. He looked—he smelled—he—was an onslaught Harry couldn’t, wouldn’t withstand.

Instead of whimpering again, of being pathetic: “So what do you want? Why come all this way if it wasn’t some…”

“Scheme?” Malfoy uncrossed his legs, leaned back. Too fucking much; Harry’s mouth watered already. “Plot? Who said it wasn’t. Maybe I’m hunting you down all for myself now.”

“Why,” Harry growled.

“Maybe I didn’t like the way you left.” A rustle: Harry didn’t need to look to know what that sound was. “Dear Malfoy, I hope you’ll understand—”

“Enough.”

Malfoy’s gaze burned on his skin. Malfoy’s everything burned. “—there’s nothing else I can do—”

“Enough. Please.”

A bang, too loud; his fist on the table. The coffee cup trembled, didn’t spill. “Oh, is that too much? Hearing your own stupid words? You can take it, sweetheart. We’ve not even got to the good part yet.”

Harry tried to take cover behind his hand. “Please, it’s—”

“I think you might be my mate,” Malfoy quoted in the iciest tone Harry’s ever heard, “Which is exactly why I have to go—”

“I did!” hiding, hiding. “How could I stay, how could I do anything when I knew I’d be putting you at risk? The Ministry won’t stop. And even if—even if they did,” in this horrible, shaky voice. “What I’ve become—”

“A fucking idiot, you mean?”

Harry looked up.

Malfoy’s lips were so thin. “I don’t care what you are. I don’t care what they tried to make you into. You think I might be your mate and then you run? Sentence yourself to, what, a miserable, lonely existence just because you’re scared?”

The shudder took him so hard he nearly fell. “I can’t hurt you,” Harry said through gritted teeth. “I won’t.”

“You have, arsehole,” with exasperation that seemed oddly fond. “Come on, Potter. You didn’t even do me the courtesy of asking.”

“Asking?”

“Veelas have mates too. You’d know if you bothered to stick around.”

“They have—” something whirled in his belly, in his chest. Something sickening and bright. “Wait. Are you saying—what are you saying?”

“You can’t hurt me.” Malfoy bent closer. “Not in the way you imagine. Not if you stay and work it out like an adult. I won’t let the Ministry use you as a weapon. I won’t let anything—I’m saying you’re an idiot, and I’m an even bigger one, and that if you’d run from me again, you’ll regret it.”

A smile burst, baffled and hot between his cheeks. “You… are you serious?”

“You think I came all this way for a joke? I only commit to things that are worth my while.” His grey eyes, burning. “Are you worth my while?”

Helpless, he grabbed Malfoy’s hand. The scent of him in Harry’s nose, heavenly and far too strong: everything he could hope for, that he tried to escape. “Please,” Harry croaked.

Malfoy hummed, leaned back. Used his free hand to steal Harry’s scone. “I’m staying across the road. When you’re quite done—”

On his feet. “Done.” The edges of Malfoy’s lips twitched.

“Very well.” He got up, cast a look from under his endless lashes. “Potter. If you leave again—”

“I won’t,” Harry promised, and meant it. Won’t be able to, now that he had Malfoy back in his arms, smelling and looking and being like that. Now that Harry felt alive, and like a person, and also not. Better than any treat, sweet or savoury. Bitter and sour, lemon zest and evergreens: his Malfoy. His mate.

 For my dear @generalpizzaengineer and their prompt 💖

[deathbypufferfish]

Midge made the journey on their boat to evergreen harbor to look for supplies and food to grow on the isle. They found a bunch of garbage they could salvage into "materials" (simoleons), a lemon, and a garbage omelet that gave them magical powers???

[madeline-ronpa-ask]

Welcome to Madeline County!

Welcome welcome! This is a silly blog I thought about making based on a discord server RP that was based on an AU of The Mandella Catalog! If you’d like to know more on the AU, please see this link to a doc made by @/pristina29! (You’ll need it to understand most of this lmao)

We are currently on the 2nd Season of the game, so there’s that bit too. (when that doc drops I’ll link it aswell dw :3)

If you’d like to join the server, just jump on in and join the fun!

(TW: THE SERVER HAS MENTIONS OF CANIBALISM (Mentions of such topics will be avoided as much as possible on the blog))

ASK RULES:

No NSFW. I feel like this is a given but still. This blog is being run by and asks are answered by minors. Dont.

No RP/M!A asks please! The answerers would rather not RP on Tumblr due to already having the server RPs /lh

Please be sure to clearly address the chars you’re asking! Nobody likes their ask being mixed up w/ another char!

Please be patient with responses! It can be a lengthy process as we all have our personal lives/answering styles!

I’ll edit the rules as I see fit

~ Admin Cookie :3

——————————————————————————————————

CURRENT ASK ABLE CAST (Including Represented Deserts and Living Status):

S1:

Hosts:

Cesar Torres ~ Strawberry Cheesecake - Deceased

Mark Heathcliff ~ Blueberry Muffin - Deceased

Adam Murray ~ Apple Pie - Deceased

Jonah Marshal ~ Lemon Tart - Deceased

Participants:

RED Spy (TF2) ~ Cherry Chocolate Bûche De Noël - Alive

SMG4 ~ Vanilla Cake - Alive

Elizabeth Afton (FNAF, Casronpa!AU (Another server lmao)) ~ Strawberry Ice Cream - Deceased

Jay Merrick (Marble Hornets) ~ Keylime Pie - Deceased

Ludwig Beilshmidt (Hetalia) ~ Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte - Alive

Daniel Mattews (Saw) ~ Forest Cake - Deceased

Hansel Strudel (OC) ~ Candied Green Apple - Deceased

Googleplier (Markiplier Ego) ~ Blue Artificial Doughnut- Deceased

Meta Knight (Kirby) ~ Custard - Deceased

Melodie (Brawl Stars) ~ Starburst Candy - Deceased

Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) ~ Strawberry Shortcake - Alive

Peter Spankoffski (Hatchetfeild) ~ Hot Chocolate - Deceased

S2:

RED Scout (TF2) ~ Boston Cream Doughnut - Alive

Mario (Mario and the Music Box) ~ Spaghettiesis Ice Cream - Alive

KAITO (PJ:SK, Base Vocaloid) ~ Blueberry Ice Cream - Alive

Cielomort (Fragaria Memories) ~ Starry Toffee Cake - Alive

Abbiy (Among Us OC) ~ Pockys - Alive

The Witch (AKA Trixie) (Slay The Princess) ~ Poison Apple - Alive

Alex Evergreen (OC) ~ Chocolate Chip Cookie - Alive

HABIT (EverymanHYBRID) ~ Dark Chocolate Mousse - Alive

Robin (Teen Titans, Fears to Fathom!AU (Another Ronpa lmao)) ~ Blueberry Yogert Parfait - Alive

Feliciano Vargas (Hetalia) ~ Banana Gelato - Alive

Robin (Batman/Superman: World’s Finest) ~ Apple Crumble - Alive

Poppy Skies (OC) ~ Rose Latte - Alive

Izumi Sou (ARSMAGNA) ~ Blueberry Cheesecake - Alive

Celestine (Pokemon S/V Protag OC) ~ Blue Raspberry Snowball - Alive

Kiku (Hetalia) ~ Dango - Alive

King DeDeDe (Kirby) ~ Strawberry Blueberry Shortcake - Alive

The Tailor (Rain World HUMAN!AU) ~ Raspberry Lemonade Ice Cream Float - Alive

Magolor (Kirby) ~ Gâteau Invisible - Alive

Peri (FO:ANW) ~ Ube Cake Roll - Alive

Spectators (under cut due to lenghty list):

Scout’s Mother (TF2)

RED Heavy (TF2)

RED Medic (TF2)

BLU Scout (Jeremy) (TF2)

BLU Scout (Jenny) (TF2 OC)

SMG3 (SMG4)

Luigi (MatMB)

Marchionne (MatMB)

Mario (SMG4)

Mario (OG)

Luigi (OG)

Cassidy (FNAF Movie)

Evan (FNAF, Casronpa!AU)

Vanessa (FNAF, Mascot!AU)

El Tigre (Yes, from the Nicktoon)

Alfred F. Jones (Hetalia)

Rin Kagamine (PJ:SK, Base Vocaloid)

Len Kagamine (PJ:SK, Base Vocaloid)

Willmesh (Fragaria Memories)

Lauren (OC)

Kirby (Kirby)

Bandanna Dee (Kirby)

Sailor Dee (Kirby)

Grusha (Pokemon S/V)

Kieran (Pokemon S/V)

Tim (Marble Hornets)

Patrick (MLAndersen0)

Collector (The Owl House)

Akira Kurusu aka Joker (Persona 5)

Raven (Teen Titans)

Starfire (Teen Titans)

Lists will be edited as more chars become available to interact with.

[winterlogysblog]

Fairy Scents ft. Kiane Kids Scent Headcanons

It's well established that each fairy has a scent that is associated with a flower or a herb. So far we have confirmed scents for each notable fairy we have been introduced to.

So after some quick research I found some info about these flowers and their scents

King - Gold Osmanthus

Osmanthus Wine tastes same as I remember, but where are those who share the memory XD

Origins: China

In the language of flowers, they carry the meaning of love and romance, symbolising true love and faithfulness

Smells like a mix of juicy peaches, ripe apricots with soft leather or suede.

Elaine - Lavender

Origins: Mediterranean

Represent purity, silence, devotion, serenity, grace, and calmness.

Biblical meaning of lavender symbolizes purity, devotion, and love

Delicate, sweet smell that is floral, herbal, and evergreen woodsy at the same time

Helbram - White Rose

Origins: Ancient Greece

Symbolize loyalty, purity, and innocence.

Combination of floral and fruity notes, with hints of honey and jasmine

Fun fact: A White Rose is what King used to kill Helbram (the first time) it turned red because of the blood

Gerheade - Mint

Origins: Mediterranean

Symbol of Hospitality and Wisdom

Gloxinia - Ginger

Origins: Maritime Southeast Asia

In many cultures, ginger is considered a symbol of love

Used in religious rituals to symbolize cleansing, protection and blessing.

Warm and spicy, with a hint of sweetness

Lancelot - Lemon

Origins: Unknown (said to be first grown in Northeast India, Northern Myanmar, or China)

Symbol of purity and cleansing

Headcanon Time

Since Nakaba hasn't spoken out about their scents I'll give my thoughts on the matter.

Lancelot introduced fruits into the mix of scents and Gloxinia smells like Ginger which is a root so I went ham with this.

Nasiens - Oleander or Sunflower

Oleander are toxic which is very fitting for our Mad Herbalist

Smells like Vanilla

Oleander symbolizes love, beauty, and resilience

I want one of Kiane's kids to smell like Sunflowers cause you know... Sunflower

Sunflowers also don't have a distinct smell so it's actually fitting for Nasiens since he grew up thinking he's human so there's really no natural fairy-like smell he could have detected from himself

Sunflower represents longevity, lasting happiness, adoration, and loyalty

Sixtus - Peach

Since Sixtus looks extremely like King I think it's only fitting if his scent is close to King's as well

Peaches symbolizes longevity

Belte - Jasmine

Belte gives Helbram energy and he kinda looks like him too so his scent also needs to give Helbram energy

Jasmine stands for purity, simplicity, modesty and strength.

Zana and Zillian - Blackberry and Raspberry

Since they're twins I want their scents to match

Blackberries are mild, sweet and slightly acidic scent, with earthy and woody nuances.

Some believed that blackberries contain properties of abundance and prosperity

Raspberries are fruity, sweet and slightly acidic

Raspberries are symbol of kindness in Christian art.

Tioreh - Pink Hyacinth

Phao - Lily of the Valley

Symbol of purity, joy, love, sincerity, happiness and luck,

Has a floral and green scent, with fresh and slightly sweet notes

I want one of Kiane's kids scents to come from the earth, something underground. There's an underground Orchid but it smells bad so that won't do so I specifically looked for a flower that has an earthy scent. I also want it to be PINK for Tioreh

Sweet, robust, and earthy

Pink hyacinths symbolize playful joy.

[sstrawberri-sugarr]

The Taylor Swift Eras As Scent Notes

I'm trying to make candles based off of the Taylor Swift Eras and sell them on etsy. Here's my idea for each one. I will also post when each one is up on my etsy shop. (I might change them but this is just what I thought of)

Debut

What It Smells Like: Just Another Picture To Burn

Top Note: Freshly Cut Grass

Heart Note: Honey

Base Note: Cedarwood

Fearless

What It Smells Like: The First Kiss, It's Flawless, Really Something, It's Fearless

Top Note: Lemon

Heart Note: Sunflower

Base Note: Amber

Speak Now

What It Smells Like: When They Said Speak Now

Top Note: Violet

Heart Note: Lilac

Base Note: Vanilla

Red

What It Smells Like: Loving Him Was Red

Top Note: Rose

Heart Note: Coffee

Base Note: Patchouli

1989

What It Smells Like: Shaking It Off

Top Note: Blue Sky

Heart Note: Ocean Breeze

Base Note: White Musk

Reputation

What It Smells Like: My Reputation's Never Been Worse

Top Note: Blackberry

Heart Note: Dark Chocolate

Base Note: Black Pepper

Lover

What It Smells Like: You're My Lover

Top Note: Strawberry Shortcake

Heart Note: Peony

Base Note: Cotton Candy

Folklore

What It Smells Like: My Mind Turns Your Life Into Folklore

Top Note: Pine Needle

Heart Note: Warm Rustic Woods

Base Note: Sandalwood

Evermore

What It Smells Like: This Pain Wouldn't Be For

Evermore

Top Note: Evergreen Forest

Heart Note: Cedarwood

Base Note: Patchouli

Midnights

What It Smells Like: All Of Me Changed Like Midnight

Top Note: Jasmine

Heart Note: Lavender

Base Note: Vanilla Bean

The Tortured Poets Department

What It Smells Like: Straight From The Tortured Poets Department

Top Note: Old Books

Heart Note: White Tea

Base Note: Cashmere

[cooliofango]

Shedding Some Light

Pairing: Nikolai x Cameron

Word Count: 1044

A/N: IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK AO LONG BBYYYY 😭😭😭 It’s be an incredibly hectic holiday at my mother’s and I’m only just getting the time to write this short little gift for you. I hope you enjoy it regardless but!!! Surprise!! I was your Secret Santa! Happy Yuletide @ohworm-writes !!!!

CW: Pagan holiday, exclusive to Cam and Cam only!!!!!, possible tradition inaccuracies ;-;

The spoon clinks with each turn it makes in the rich and warm chocolatey liquid. The smell brings a smile to their face. They’re already looking forward to diving into the treat alongside their lover as they stand here making it. The spoon drips hot cocoa as it is lifted out of the mug and is set inside the sink. The soft and fluffy marshmallows are easily plucked from the bowl that was set aside just before starting the creation of the hot drink. The marshmallows are large, squishing pleasantly in their fingers as they drop three into each mug. The creamy fluff immediately melts on the surface, covering the entirety of the beverage.

“That should be enough marshmallows.” Cameron mutters to themself, lifting one of the two mugs into each of their hands before turning to walk out the kitchen.

But they pause and observe.

The home is beautifully decorated for the solstice. Garland made of evergreen and fresh pine cones topped with a thin layer of fake snow lace the entryways of the home- including the one to the kitchen Cam stood under currently- as well as across the fireplace and a bookshelf that stood in the entryway hall. On those shelves, however, are also a few candles that are placed carefully in the middle of the garland. They gave a warm, dim glow into the comfort of the home the two shared.

A Yule tree is decorated with garland that Cameron and Nikolai spent hours putting together, as well as dried slices of orange and lemon that Cam had put hooks though to hang on the tree’s branches. Nikolai had brought miniature fake candles and sun shaped ornaments to put on the tree too.

A special gift that Nikolai had created by hand was the metal tree topper that was also sunshapped. It was something that the both of them were surprised that it was kept quiet about until the surprise was revealed to Cameron just earlier this week. It did explain a lot to them, though. Why Nikolai was suddenly spending an incredible amount of time in the shop- which, in itself, is saying something, as we all know that Nikolai would gladly spend hours upon hours working on his helicopter- was a big question that occured often. Turns out he had even used scrap metal from his precious helicopter to make it, cutting, bending, engraving, and heating the metal to give it the yellow, shiny appearance it has now. A light shone behind it to make its silhouette glow against the walls around it.

The smell of warm cinnamon lingers in the air and Cameron turns their attention to its source.

Nikolai is sitting at the coffee table putting together the dried sticks of the spice around a glass dish meant to catch the wax of melting candles. His tongue is pressed against the inside of his cheek and his brows are furrowed with concentration. One stick of cinnamon is held in one hand while the other carefully applies the hot glue against the side of the glass with a steady hold on the hot glue gun. The glue gun is set back down on a piece of cardboard- it being used to keep the hot glue from dripping on the glass table and ruining it- and the cinnamon stick he held is pressed carefully on top of the hot glue and beside the already glued down cinnamon. It was gently pushed up with a large finger to make sure it was even before Nikolai picks up another stick from the package to his left and the hot glue gun to his right.

Cameron felt their heart soar a moment more for the man who stole their heart almost a year ago. The effort Nikolai was putting into enjoying the holiday lined with their belief made them feel so much more grateful to have Nikolai in their life once more. They should’ve known that once Nikolai set his heart on celebrating Yuletide, there was no stopping him. He truly went above and beyond, and is still doing so, just for them.

Nikolai sits in jeans and a fluffy, white sweater that matches his love’s, as well as some fluffy socks they just insisted that he wore too. He doesn’t notice Cameron yet, too busy focusing on the mini project he was determined to finish. That was until they placed his mug on the coffee table in front of him, causing him to pause and look up at them.

A large and loving smile easily pulls at his lips, setting both items back into their respective places. “Спасибо, дорогой!” His eyes lit up at them, almost hesitating to look away as he reaches for the hot ceramic mug. Cameron sits beside him, carefully blowing the steam from her own drink.

“Thank you,” Cameron emphasizes, “You didn’t have to do all of this.” A hand gestures to the flurry of decorations around the house as Nikolai takes a sip.

A hum of satisfaction slips past closed lips, visibly relaxing at the warmth the hot cocoa provided for him. The mug is rested carefully against his thigh, one hand holding the cup up. His other hand rests on their thigh, each of them holding a soft and grateful look in their eyes.

“Do not thank me, дорогая. I’m more than happy to celebrate your traditions with you,” Nikolai says firmly and confidently, “I’ve had a great time enjoying this holiday with you, Cameron.”

They smile back lovingly up at him, eyes moving from his own to his lips. A sudden snort of amusement follows, biting onto their bottom lip as they look back up at him. Nikolai raises a brow at the evolving giggles falling from their lips. “What’s so funny, дорогая?”

Cameron clears their throat, smile still present. Their hand raises and points at the area above their own lip, “You’ve got a little something…” Their voice trails off as Nikolai carefully raises his own hand and wipes the fluffy marshmallow from above his lip with his thumb. There was a moment of silence as he stared at the sugary substance before he too laughed at the sight, Cam’s laughter joining in as they enjoyed the serenity of the moment together.

Taglist 🏷️

@bunnyreaper @bookobsessedram @a-very-bored-blogger @hawsx3 @ohworm-writes @tokusho @kitkatscabinet

[ssruis]

Patiently waiting for the nene poll in the pathetic bracket gathering many sources of peak failgirl wet cat-isms. Collecting them like a proud parent putting together a photo album.

Writing down ways to keep conversations going is so fucking funny she’s treating socializing like there’s gonna be a test

Emu literally just smiles at her and she’s like ok to the claw machine I go

He’s right

Actually hysterical. Emu would scream with joy at the prospect of watching paint dry with nene but nene is still like ummm 🥺 do you w-wanna… game together…?

He’s fucking astonished that nene has friends which is entirely fair actually

Girl no one is counting your layers you can relax

She has to plan out an opening to talk to people she’s literally doing a show with & then later on she has to be super hyped up by emu to even give them the honeyed lemons

Literally hides behind people when strangers try to talk to her

Evergreen nene quote. She does Not Go Outside.

Literally begging for help to escape from a minorly uncomfortable social situation