#artificial water lilies

[lexiputellas]

Room 1102 — Broken Vows

mdni

The hotel is too perfect. A five-star lie wrapped in gold and glass, designed to make you forget reality. The air smells like lilies—expensive, artificial, like they pump it through the vents to convince you this place is special.

But nothing about tonight is special.

Your heels click sharply against the marble, a rhythmic, deliberate sound as you walk toward the front desk. Your coat, long and black, clings to you, hiding the outfit beneath—a striped button-down blouse, tucked neatly into fitted jeans. The fabric is smooth, crisp, the kind that wrinkles if you grip it too tight.

"Room 1102." Your voice is flat.

The receptionist types something into the computer, then nods. "She’s expecting you."

You nod once. Nothing else is necessary.

Good.

You don’t need anyone to pretend they care.

You move toward the elevators, your pulse a slow, steady drum in your ears. The mirrored doors slide open, and you step inside, pressing 11 with the tip of your finger. The doors close with a soft hush, sealing you in.

Silence.

The space is sleek, modern—mirrored walls, brushed steel, the faintest scent of expensive cologne lingering in the air, probably from the last person who stood here. You stare at your reflection. Your posture is stiff, your expression blank, but beneath the surface—beneath the careful armor—you are unraveling.

The floor numbers blink past one by one, a slow ascent, a quiet climb toward something you shouldn’t be walking into.

By the time the doors open, your breath feels too tight in your chest.

You walk down the hallway, plush carpet soft beneath your steps, the muted glow of wall sconces casting elongated shadows along the corridor. The walls are a deep, muted gray, textured, cool under your fingertips when you let your hand trail against them.

1102.

You stop in front of it.

Exhale.

Knock.

Alexia opens the door too fast. Like she’s been waiting.

She looks like shit.

Messy hair, tired eyes, wearing your t-shirt—one she stole years ago and never gave back.

She still wears your things.

Like she still belongs to you.

But she doesn’t.

You stare at each other.

"You gonna let me in?" Your voice is cold.

She swallows. "Yeah."

You step inside, and the door clicks shut behind you.

The suite is a disaster. Clothes everywhere—some crumpled on the floor, some half-folded, some tossed carelessly over furniture like she was in too much of a hurry to care. A half-empty glass of water rests on the nightstand, the condensation long since dried.

The room itself is pristine beneath the mess—polished floors, soft cream-colored walls, the kind of expensive minimalism that belongs in places like this. A sleek, modern lamp casts a dim glow over the king-sized bed, its crisp white sheets slightly rumpled. The floor-to-ceiling windows stretch across the far wall, the heavy curtains drawn back just enough to reveal the city skyline, glittering and vast against the night.

You don’t sit. Neither does she.

"You wanted to talk," you say. "So talk."

She exhales. "I don’t know where to start."

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Try starting with the part where you decided to fuck someone else."

She flinches.

"Come on, Alexia," you press. "Be honest. Was it fun? Did she make you feel special? Did it make you feel young again? Or was it just exciting to sneak around behind my back?"

Her throat works. "It wasn’t like that."

You tilt your head. "Then tell me—what was it like?"

Silence.

"Who is she?"

Alexia freezes.

You smile—sharp, cruel. "Oh, you don’t want to say? That’s funny, because you had no problem fucking her."

She swallows. "Her name is Eva."

Something twists in your stomach.

You blink. "I know that. And what does Eva do?"

Alexia exhales. "She’s… on the medical team."

You laugh. A sharp, bitter sound. "So she sees you every day?"

Alexia shifts. "Yes. Not like that anymore—"

"Oh, so that makes it better?" Your voice is razor-sharp. "So tell me, Alexia—where? Where did you do it?"

She blinks. "What?"

You take a step forward. "Where. Did. You. Fuck. Her?"

Alexia closes her eyes. "Hotel rooms. Sometimes… her apartment."

You nod slowly. "And when? When did it start?"

Her voice is small. "Nine months ago."

You laugh. "Nine months. A whole pregnancy."

Her face crumbles.

"How did it happen?" you push. "Did she just look at you one day, and suddenly your wedding vows stopped mattering? Or was it slower?"

Alexia swallows hard. "We were talking. We got too comfortable."

"Too comfortable?" Your voice is sharp. "What does that mean? Did she touch you first, or did you touch her?"

Alexia hesitates.

You step forward.

"Did you kiss her first? Or did she kiss you?"

Alexia’s voice is barely there. "I kissed her."

You let out a slow breath.

"You kissed her," you repeat.

She nods.

You smile—sharp and vicious. "And then? What? You just couldn’t stop yourself?"

Alexia shakes her head. "I wasn’t thinking—"

"Clearly."

She flinches.

You press a hand to your forehead, exhaling hard.

Then, finally:

"I want her fired."

Alexia’s head snaps up. "What?"

"You heard me." Your voice is cold. "I want Eva gone."

Alexia hesitates.

And that hesitation?

Pisses you off.

"You shouldn’t even have to think about this," you say, voice ice-cold. "You should want her gone. You should want to erase every fucking trace of her."

Alexia swallows hard. "I’ll talk to them."

"You’ll do more than talk."

She exhales sharply. "I’ll handle it."

You nod. "Good."

You take a slow breath, steadying yourself. "I'm going to ask you something, and you have to promise me. No lies. No excuses."

Alexia nods, hesitant, like she already knows what's coming.

"Do you love her?"

Her answer is immediate. "No."

"Do you want to be with her?"

She shakes her head. "No."

You search her face, looking for any hesitation, any flicker of doubt. But there’s none.

Still, you need to ask.

"At any point… did you ever think—maybe if I didn’t have a wife or kids, I’d be happy with her?"

Alexia flinches, her lips parting, but no words come out at first. Her breath wobbles. She looks away.

"Not with her," she says, voice barely above a whisper. "Never with her."

Your stomach clenches. "But?"

She swallows. "But there were moments where I felt… stuck. Not because of you. Not because of them. Just—because of me."

She exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over her face. "And I hated that. I hated myself for even thinking it."

"Was it just her? Eva? Or was there more?"

Alexia hesitates, just for a second. "Just Eva."

"That should make me feel better." You shake your head. "But it doesn’t."

Her brows furrow. "Why—"

"Because if it had been more than one person, it would’ve meant nothing," you cut in. "But just her? That means you wanted something in her. Something you won’t even admit to me. Or to yourself."

You step back.

Your breath shakes. "We’re done."

Alexia freezes.

"I can’t be with you." Your voice is steady, even as your chest caves in. "I need space. I need time. I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive you."

Alexia shakes her head, quickly, desperately. "No. You don’t mean that."

"I do. But the girls need stability. I’ll stay at the house. If you want to stay instead, let me know, and we’ll go." Your voice is firm. "Either way, we’re not together. We’ll figure out how to co-parent later."

Alexia looks wrecked.

You turn to leave.

She grabs you.

Her fingers wrap around your wrist, firm, desperate, like she can’t let you go.

Like she won’t.

She pulls you back, closing the space between you in one slow, deliberate step.

You should pull away. You should leave.

But you don’t.

She tilts her chin down, eyes locked on yours, dark and desperate. "I love you."

It sounds broken.

Like it’s not enough.

Her forehead touches yours. Her breath mixes with yours.

You don’t move.

You don’t breathe.

Her hands tremble where they rest on your waist, fingers pressing into your coat, holding you like she’s afraid you’ll disappear.

And you hate her. You hate her for what she did.

For throwing you away.

For making you feel like this—like you still love her, like you still need her, like your body still remembers her even when you don’t want it to.

You kiss her.

Hard.

Her gasp melts into a moan as she kisses you back, hands desperate, frantic, pulling at your clothes like she can’t get you bare fast enough.

You shove her shirt—your shirt—up and over her head.

It’s barely off before she’s reaching for your coat, your blouse, her fingers shaking as she undoes the buttons, one by one.

She spins you.

The backs of your knees hit the bed, and you sink down, breathless.

Alexia follows, kneeling between your legs.

You start on your blouse, slow, deliberate, making her watch.

Her lips brush your jaw, your throat, your collarbone.

Her breath is hot, unsteady.

She doesn’t stop kissing you.

She doesn’t stop touching you.

Her hands skim your ribs, your stomach, mapping every inch like she’s trying to memorize you.

Your blouse falls open.

She pulls it off your shoulders, soft, reverent, like she’s undressing something holy.

She stares.

At you.

At the body she knows so well.

The body she gave up.

Her hands slide up your sides, over your ribs, your stomach, tracing every curve like she’s trying to remember what it feels like to have you.

She leans in, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses down your chest, your stomach, her breath shaky against your skin.

By the time she reaches the edge of your thighs, you’re already trembling, already too far gone.

And then—

Her mouth is on you.

Wet, relentless.

Her tongue presses, curls, flicks in a way that sends electric shocks down your spine.

Your body reacts before you can think, back arching, thighs trembling as you gasp and fist your hands into her hair, holding her there like you need this to survive.

She groans against you, the vibration shooting through your core, making your stomach tighten.

Your breath stutters, eyes squeezing shut as she spreads you open with her hands, holding you in place as she devours you.

Her tongue dips inside, then moves up again, circling, teasing, never stopping, never giving you room to breathe.

"Fuck," you gasp, your fingers digging into her scalp.

She hums in response, flicking her tongue faster, drinking in every moan, every shake, every broken sound she pulls from you.

Her hands grip your thighs harder, thumbs pressing into your skin like she wants to leave bruises, like she wants you to feel her even after this is over.

You feel the build, the sharp pull of pleasure rising higher and higher, winding tight inside you.

Alexia knows—she always knows.

She shifts slightly, the new angle sending fire through your veins, and then you’re gone, the orgasm ripping through you so hard you forget how to breathe.

Your body jerks against her mouth, thighs shaking as you cry out, your grip on her tightening.

She doesn’t stop.

Her tongue keeps moving, slow, lazy, dragging out every last tremor, making you whimper as the pleasure turns almost unbearable.

Only when your body sags against the sheets, chest rising and falling in desperate pants, does she finally pull away.

She kisses her way back up your body, slow, reverent, her lips brushing over your stomach, your ribs, your chest.

When she reaches your mouth, she kisses you deep, letting you taste yourself on her tongue.

She pulls back just enough to whisper, "Can I use it?"

Her voice is wrecked, low and husky, her eyes dark with something that makes your stomach tighten all over again.

You should say no.

You should stop this before you lose yourself completely.

But you don’t.

You nod, desperate.

Alexia reaches for it, in the suitcase—the one you threw all of her things into, every single one of them.

She pulls out the strap, the harness fitting snug around her hips, adjusting it with practiced ease.

Your stomach clenches at the way her muscles flex, at how confident she looks, at how much you still want her.

She slides her fingers between your thighs again, groaning when she feels how wet you still are.

"Fuck," she mutters, almost to herself.

She drags her fingers through your slickness, spreading it, coating the toy in it, preparing.

Your breath catches, your body already reacting to the thought of her inside you.

She kisses your chest, your stomach, biting gently, teasing.

You reach for her, trying to pull her closer, but she catches your wrists, pinning them down above your head.

Her grip is firm, commanding.

"You were always so impatient," she murmurs, lips brushing against your skin.

You whimper, shifting, trying to move your hips against hers, needing her to do something, anything.

She takes your own hand, guiding it between your legs, pressing your fingers against yourself.

"Feel that," she whispers.

Your breath stutters, your fingers trembling as you follow her lead.

She watches, her breathing turning ragged.

Then she takes your fingers into her mouth, her tongue moving slow and deliberate as she sucks them clean.

She groans, eyes locked onto yours, and then—

She pushes inside.

A sharp gasp tears from your throat as she fills you, stretching you, the pressure overwhelming in the best way.

Your hands fly to her shoulders, fingers digging in, holding on as she starts to move.

She sets the pace slow at first, so slow it makes you whimper, makes your body beg for more.

"God, you feel so good," she groans, voice breaking.

Her forehead presses against yours, her breath hot against your lips.

"I love you. I love you so much."

You feel the tear slip down your cheek.

You turn your head so she can’t see, but she does.

She kisses them away, soft, apologetic.

Her hands grip you tighter, like you’re the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

And maybe you are.

Because you feel it too.

This is the end of something that was once beautiful.

Until it wasn’t.

You don’t want to be here anymore.

You are devastated in a way you can’t put into words.

It hurts. Deep, bone-crushing, breath-stealing pain.

Your nails dig into her back, desperate, needing to feel grounded, needing something real to hold on to.

You can’t believe she did this to you.

That she did this to you both.

[greenerteacups]

I wonder often why Deathly Hallows as a book is so fascinated with wandcraft and wandlore, especially after the series has spent six volumes being more or less disinterested in it (with the exception of the Twin Cores plot in Book 4). A weirdly high % of the plot depends on who owns whose wand and why: the wand mixup with the Snatchers, Harry's wand being broken, Draco's wand, Bellatrix's wand, and of course, the final rigmarole over who's the "rightful master" of the Elder Wand, which ends up being a weird combination of killing/disarming/fist-fight to disarm someone who... wasn't even wielding the Elder Wand at the time he was disarmed, which begs the question of what it counts to "disarm" someone of a weapon they're not technically wielding? Also, are we to assume that Dumbledore was not disarmed once in the N years since his fight with Grindlewald? Or — here's a harder one — that Draco wasn't disarmed once between Dumbledore's death and his fight with Harry? That's plausible, but it's kind of weird that I need to believe it for the rest of the plot to make sense.

And like, I can think of a few Doylist reasons for this to be the case. The first is that JKR wants Voldemort to kill Snape in the boathouse, which allows Harry to get Snape's memories and retroactively justify why Snape's acted this way since PoA (and explain where the sword comes from in the lake in DH, too). I can think of better, more character-driven reasons for him to kill Snape (just... blow Snape's cover? reveal him as a double agent? have him try to kill Nagini? idk), but let's suppose, for subtextual reasons, she wants Voldemort to think Snape was loyal to the end. Having him die by Nagini's hand muddies the already-opaque water of what constitutes "disarming," because Nagini is a living creature. What if I drop someone into a pool of piranhas? Do I get their wand? Yeah, Voldemort commands her, but then — okay, what if I Imperius someone and make them disarm someone else? I get that it's not like DH has time for Harry to sit down with Ollivander and go through all of the tiny procedural rules for wand usage, but also, are these not relevant questions? Is this not the central mechanic of the final battle, this one piece of magic? Am I not supposed to wonder how it works?

The other reason I can imagine is that Harry wins a duel against Voldemort 1v1, which is not terribly believable unless there's some kind of magical advantage working in his favor. We know the Elder Wand's failure to execute the Cruciatus means Harry can't be harmed by spells the Elder casts, because it's his "true master." This is a really weird quirk in wandlore — why does it work this way? Is it the only wand that works this way? By that logic, shouldn't everyone Harry disarms be incapable of casting spells on him? — that emerges in Book 7, apparently for the purpose of giving Harry a buff in the final duel. Functionally, that's weird, because on a technical level it works the same way as Lily's protection — it's a reason that Voldemort can't hurt him. So why get rid of Lily's protection at all? It's not like he duels Voldemort between Book 4 and Book 7. The graveyard scene artificially hikes the stakes for Harry by making him physically vulnerable, pretty much only so he can die at the end of DH... except again, not for real, because Voldemort only ends up killing the piece of Harry that's a horcrux, so it doesn't even count!

And then Harry replaces the wand in Dumbledore's tomb. Which would be a nice moment if the lore hadn't established that anyone who disarms Harry, ever, will become the master of the Elder Wand by default. Harry knows this. He also knows that this knowledge is out there in the world; sure, Grindlewald's dead now, but do we think that Grindlewald never told anyone else about the Elder Wand? And he learned about it from somewhere, didn't he? So Harry might naturally assume that someone else would eventually come looking, in which case Dumbledore's tomb is far from the safest place to put this equivalent of a wizarding nuke. (Not that it seems to be all that powerful anyway; the coolest thing it does is fix Harry's other wand, and we're left wondering why the Elder Wand is considered "unbeatable" when people who own it seem to be getting disarmed all over the fucking place.)

Also, in retrospect, this makes it incredibly odd that Dumbledore allows Draco to disarm him, because he's giving the Wizarding Nuke to a 16-year-old servant of Lord Voldemort. Suppose that he's trying to prevent Snape from getting the wand, because he doesn't want Snape to be a target: okay, fine, but does he know Draco's going to give Snape credit for the kill? What if Draco lies? What if LV just... accepts the fact that the wand recognizes Expelliarmus as a point of transfer, and either disarms or kills Draco? And in any case, no matter what the answers to these questions are, why didn't he just ask Harry to disarm him before he went to the lake?

I'm usually not one to be an asshole about plot holes — mostly because, taken by themselves, I don't find them that interesting — but they become interesting to me when I see several of them in the same vein, because they tell me that the author's trying to do something. And they want to do it so badly they're willing to strain other parts of the story to make it happen.

[idreamofthemeparks]

Whenever someone starts talking about how they don't like Disney parks (or theme parks in general but this is overwhelmingly said about Disney) because "dude they're so fake, everything is artificial bro" I just want to be like yeah, and why would you go to an art gallery? Those paintings aren't REAL. Why not go look at a REAL sunset or water lilies or something? And why would you watch a movie? Everything in them is so FAKE. Every shot in a movie is done in a really deliberate way to create a certain feeling and show you something specific. Nothing like that happens in REAL life.

[saintfelina]

most people don't put aquatic and sexy in the same sentence. and to be fair? they tend not to be. stormy? yes. effortlessly cool? also yes. laid back? absolutely! but rarely sexy. aquatics dominated the 90s and early thousands, given it was the decade of unisex and androgyny it's no surprise these reigned supreme.

whether they're fresh, floral, marine of a combination of the 3, aquatics are normally seen as summer perfumes, as they're light enough to not choke you out in the heat, and are extremely versatile. and given their scent profile, they remind you of summer days at the beach. overall, the category is self explanatory: it's meant to evoke the scent of water in any form.

now what comprises of aquatic perfumes? well it doesn't always have to be a water note. they can be fruit notes like watermelon, cucumber, a synthetic note called 'calone' which mimics a marine smell, florals like water lily and lotus, and other notes like sea salt, seaweed, driftwood and ambergris.

to get the full scope of what an aquatic can be, here's a list of scents that range from fresh, to sensual, to stormy.

cool water is the aquatic we all know even if we don't know that we do. it's the quintessential 'fresh' smell, slightly sweet on some and just an overall great scent. classic for a reason.

rem reminiscence is the perfect mermaid scent in my humble opinion. it has a slightly salty tinge to it, giving it the smell of a lifetime of living in the sea before your skin finally touches the air. it has a slight seaweed smell and is honestly very divisive, but if you love the smell of a salty, briny beach this is for you.

house of bō is a brand centered around recreating its founders (Bernardo Möller) childhood in mexico. la mar specifically is based on the scent of his mother's perfume mixing with her sunscreen, and it's absolutely beautiful. a creamy white floral tinged with sea salty skin, it's incredibly sensual and intoxicating without being heavy.

every storm a serenade is that stormy, moody aquatic i mentioned earlier. the spruce and eucalytus gives it a dark, green scent, like the ocean as a storm brews and the clouds roll in. it's both the goddess calypso and the pirate at the helm.

clean h2eau water lotus is a juicy, bouncy aquatic. it's super bright and young, perfect for a younger girl and it's unique formula adds to it as it's super watery and lightweight. doesn't last long but that's perfect as too much could get artificial fast.

blugirl jus no 1 is your dream vaation cruise in a bottle. you're tanned, tipsy from sneaking rum filled pina coladas and dancing under the moonlight. the champagne note adds a flirtiness as it dries down to a warmer musky amber.

eau des merveilles bleue is the perfect salty marine aquatic. the ultimate unisex scent the woodiness settles into something truly beautiful. for an aquatic it's quite potent and lingers.

rockaway beach is super unique, it's the sea soaked rocks and the smell of suntan lotion lingering in the air. it's grungy, it's a stormy beach on a fall day. it's effy stonem in the middle of a lighting storm. an aquatic for a grungier sort.

[miorrtae]

*.༘⋆ 𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐊𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐓

PT. 1 ☪︎ PT. 2

The chandelier above the dining table flickered with soft amber light, refracting against the crystal glasses lined up like soldiers. Everything gleamed. Not with warmth, but with intention. As if the room had been staged rather than lived in.

Y/N sat at her vanity, curling a final strand of hair into place. She wore a satin dress the color of moonlight—elegant, demure, impossible to look away from. It hugged her body like a whisper and did exactly what it was supposed to do: suggest, never declare.

She stared into the mirror and tilted her head. Her lipstick was perfect, her eyeliner sharp enough to cut. Still, something felt… off. Not about her appearance—she was always flawless—but in the air. Heavy. Like a storm was hiding just behind the walls.

From the next room, the sound of jazz fluttered in—something cool and hollow, like a Miles Davis record played too slow. Her husband had picked it, of course. He always chose the music. The guests. The temperature of the evening.

Y/N stood, smoothing her dress over her hips.

“Darling?” he called from the other room. His voice had that rich, practiced warmth—like a radio host or a politician. “You almost ready?”

She stepped into the doorway, already smiling. “Coming.”

He was by the bar, dressed in a crisp tuxedo, swirling something golden in a glass. Handsome. Controlled. The kind of man people described with words like respected, charming, solid.

And he loved her—or so he said. So he showed. He reminded her often. That he had chosen her. That she was unlike anyone else. That no one would ever really understand her but him.

She had believed him. She still did.

He turned, eyes sliding over her in quiet approval. “Beautiful,” he said simply. “Just like I like you.”

The air held the scent of fresh lilies and something more artificial—polished wood, lemon oil, and whatever cologne her husband had dabbed at his throat. Y/N caught it as she walked past him, the edge of his presence brushing against her like silk drawn taut.

He didn’t touch her waist, but he didn’t have to. His attention did the same thing.

“Gerald and Mae just pulled up,” he murmured, glancing at his watch though he already knew the time. “They’re early, as usual.”

Y/N gave a soft hum of agreement, stepping toward the entryway, her heels whispering across the floor. She passed the mirror in the hallway and didn’t look at herself. She knew what she looked like. She’d spent years learning how to be looked at.

The first knock was polite. The second was shorter.

By the third, the door was open and Gerald was beaming beneath his salt-and-pepper hair, a cigar already tucked into the corner of his mouth. “There she is,” he said, not even waiting to be invited in. “The most radiant woman in the city, and the only reason I tolerate your husband.”

“Don’t be charming, Gerald. You’ll confuse me,” Y/N said, and he barked out a laugh.

Mae followed him in, all soft pearls and hard eyes. She kissed Y/N on both cheeks like they were closer than they were.

More guests arrived. The house began to fill—not with chaos, but with practiced energy. Men loosened their ties halfway, just enough to seem casual. Women tilted their heads when they laughed. Every gesture had a cadence.

Y/N moved through it all like silk in water.

At some point, her husband poured her another drink. She didn’t remember finishing the first.

“You’ve outdone yourself again,” someone told him. “You really should have gone into politics.”

He smiled without teeth. “One must have the stomach for it.”

Y/N’s glass tilted in her hand. From across the room, she watched him talk—one hand in his pocket, the other gesturing smoothly. He laughed at the right moments. He complimented the women without lingering. He asked about children he didn’t care about. He played the part so well it was easy to forget it was a part.

The jazz slowed.

A quiet lull fell over the group as someone reached for a new record, and the needle scratched faintly before the next track came on—low, moody saxophone, rich and full.

That was when she heard it.

The name.

Not loud. Not emphasized. Just… placed.

“…Hyeri’s back, did you hear?”

Y/N didn’t turn her head, but her ears pricked.

She didn’t know who said it. Only that someone responded with an uncertain, “Is that so?”

A pause. Then: “I think she’s coming tonight.”

Just like that, the moment passed. Someone laughed. Someone changed the subject. A cork popped.

Y/N’s glass had stilled in her hand.

She turned toward her husband—but he was already looking at her.

Not directly. Just past her shoulder. As if he’d been watching her before she moved.

He gave her a small smile. One she couldn’t quite read. Then turned back to Gerald with a chuckle and a shake of his head, brushing the conversation away like dust from a sleeve.

Y/N didn’t ask.

She didn’t know why she wanted to.

But suddenly the dress felt tighter. The music too loud. The air too warm.

And somewhere, under the perfume and laughter and polite conversation, she felt it again.

That storm.

Still behind the walls.

Still coming.

The wine kept flowing. Someone put a hand on her lower back when they laughed too hard. Someone else complimented her earrings twice in the same hour. Time blurred—not unpleasantly, but without weight.

Y/N found herself on the balcony after a while, her drink gone but the glass still in her hand. The breeze lifted her hair off her shoulders. Below, the garden lights glowed faintly under the trees, casting strange, gold shadows.

From inside, a burst of laughter rose—her husband’s voice in the middle of it. The sound threaded through the air like something meant for someone else.

She didn’t join him.

The silence out here was different. It didn’t ask anything of her.

Her fingers traced the edge of the glass absently, and for the first time all evening, her thoughts drifted toward the name again.

Hyeri.

She didn’t know what she expected it to sound like. Something sharper, maybe. More dramatic. But it had arrived gently, almost passively, as if the name had always been there, just waiting to be said aloud.

And her husband’s reaction—no reaction, really. That was what made it stand out.

He’d always been excellent at omission. There was an art to the things he didn’t say.

Y/N leaned against the railing and stared out into the dark, wondering—not suspiciously, not yet—but with a kind of… poetic curiosity. Like a character in someone else’s novel, aware that something was coming but not yet sure if it was tragedy or revelation.

The sliding door opened behind her.

She didn’t turn.

He stepped beside her, close but not touching. “It’s getting cold.”

“Not really.”

He watched her for a moment, then followed her gaze out into the dark. “You disappeared on me.”

“You seemed entertained.”

He smiled. “They always ask where you’ve gone.”

Y/N looked at him. His profile in the low light was sharp and unreadable. The kind of face made for headlines and portraits. A man who could sell sincerity like a product.

“They said someone named Hyeri might be coming,” she said quietly, as if the name didn’t matter.

He took a slow breath. “Probably just gossip. You know how people are.”

“She was a friend of yours?”

His pause was careful.

“Once,” he said. “We haven’t spoken in years.”

And that was all. Nothing in his tone invited more. The silence that followed was final—not heavy, but precisely measured.

Y/N nodded. “She sounds interesting.”

He glanced at her. “You’re more interesting.”

The compliment landed, soft and mechanical. Like he’d plucked it from a drawer.

She smiled anyway. “You always know what to say.”

And yet, something about the quiet that followed felt like a question left unanswered.

Behind them, the party buzzed on.

But out here, in the dark, beneath the flicker of lights and the weight of things unspoken, Y/N let her smile slip away.

Just for a moment.

A breath lingered in the air between them, hanging like an unfinished sentence. The kind of silence that felt less like peace and more like waiting.

Y/N turned her head slightly, her eyes scanning his face for something more than the careful mask he always wore. Something raw, maybe. A glimpse of the man he had been before he had become this polished version of himself. The version that always knew how to say the right thing at the right time.

But he was unreadable.

And she—well, she had spent years learning how to read people, but never him.

She felt the weight of the night again. Something pressing against her chest, as if it wanted to speak but was too afraid to do so.

“Do you ever think about the past?” she asked before she could stop herself.

His eyes flicked to hers. “We’re living in the present, darling.”

She nodded, her fingers tightening around the glass in her hand. The drink was gone now. She hadn’t even noticed it empty.

“Of course,” she said, her voice softer than she’d meant it to be. “Silly question.”

He stepped closer, his hand brushing her arm in the faintest of gestures—familiar, but distant. It was a movement she’d learned to accept, because it was all she had ever known.

“I’ll be inside in a moment,” he said. “You coming back in?”

Y/N didn’t answer right away. Her gaze flickered back to the house, to the party still in full swing, to the faces she had come to know by name, to the one face she still couldn’t read.

But then she turned back to him, giving him that smile—the one she always gave. The one he expected.

“I’ll be in shortly,” she said, her voice steady.

She watched him go back inside, his figure blending into the shadows.

And when he was gone, she let herself take one more deep breath, the kind that felt like she was inhaling something far older than the night itself.

The storm was still there, waiting.

And maybe, just maybe, she was starting to feel its pull.

The glass in Y/N’s hand had begun to sweat, her fingers slipping slightly along the curve of it as condensation gathered in the evening chill. She stared at it, wondering absently how long she’d been standing there. How long it took, exactly, for something to feel like permanence.

Behind her, the party carried on. Laughter in pockets, clinks of glass, the low thrum of music wrapping around it all like ribbon. She could step back inside and become her again—his version of her. The one who smiled on cue and knew how to listen without hearing, how to glide through conversations like a breeze that left no trace.

But her body didn’t move.

Instead, she leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the railing, the hem of her dress catching in the wind like breath. Below, the garden stretched out in curated beauty—hedges manicured, lights timed to glow just so. Everything meant to be seen. Nothing wild.

She tried to picture Hyeri in a place like this.

Couldn’t.

The name kept unfolding inside her, slow and strange. A name with weight. With texture. She wondered if Hyeri had ever stood here, in this same spot, years ago, watching the same wind pull through the trees. If she had once been the one in the moon-colored dress.

A sharp laugh rang from inside, pulling Y/N’s gaze back toward the windows. Her husband was with Gerald again, hands moving as he told a story. The group was enraptured. He had that gift—making everyone feel like they were in on something special.

She knew that look, the slight tilt of his head, the pacing of his words. She’d studied it. Worn it like a second skin when needed.

But something in her resisted it now. Not in anger. Not even in sadness.

Just… in awareness.

The door behind her slid open again.

This time, it was Mae.

“Oh,” she said softly. “Didn’t know you were out here.”

Y/N turned, smiled lightly. “Needed some air.”

Mae stepped forward with a practiced sort of grace, her heels never quite clicking against the stone. She carried a fresh drink in one hand, the stem of the glass kissed with red from her lipstick.

“They’re all obsessed with him, you know,” Mae said, nodding toward the window.

Y/N didn’t pretend not to know who she meant.

Mae leaned on the railing beside her, eyes scanning the garden. “I always wondered what it was like. Being married to someone who commands a room just by breathing.”

There was no bite in the words. Only curiosity. Maybe envy.

Y/N took a slow breath. “You get used to it.”

Mae smiled, just a little. “That’s what you say when something stops feeling strange but never starts feeling right.”

The words sank between them like stones in water.

“I heard Hyeri’s name earlier,” Mae added casually. Too casually.

Y/N looked at her. “Did you know her?”

Mae’s lips parted, like she might say no. But instead, she said, “Everyone knew her. Or thought they did.”

She took a sip of her drink, eyes far away now. “She had this… quality. Like she saw things the rest of us missed. She didn’t dress to impress. Didn’t say the right things at dinner. But when she was in a room, people noticed. And not because she was trying to be noticed, either. That was the part that made people nervous.”

Y/N was quiet.

“She left suddenly,” Mae continued. “No announcement. Just vanished. Some people said she was sick. Others said she fell in love and moved away. But I think…” She hesitated. “I think she saw something. Something she didn’t want to be part of anymore.”

Y/N’s pulse ticked in her throat.

She wanted to ask what. What Hyeri had seen. What Mae meant. But before she could, Mae straightened and downed the rest of her drink in one smooth motion.

“I should go back in,” she said. “Gerald gets anxious when I’m gone too long. Like I might start thinking.”

She gave Y/N a tight smile—wry, elegant, tired—and turned back toward the door.

Before she stepped inside, she paused.

“If she does come tonight,” Mae said without turning around, “don’t ask him about her. Not really. He won’t lie. But he won’t tell the truth, either.”

Then she slipped inside, swallowed by the light.

Y/N stood still for a long moment, the wind brushing over her shoulders like a question.

She looked back out at the garden, then up—at the sky, at the faint, blurred stars barely visible through the city glow. And she wondered, for the first time in a long time, if she remembered how to want something.

Not politely. Not passively.

But truly.

The glass in her hand trembled slightly as she set it down on the railing.

Inside, a new record spun up—slower this time, darker. A woman’s voice, low and smoky, singing of something lost.

Y/N didn’t move.

She was still listening for the storm.

[labuenosairesfrancaise]

Monumental Fountain

Hi guys!!

I'm sharing Monumental Fountain . This is the 3rd building for my Catalunya (and Spanish) Collection!

The original project for the Parc de la Ciutadella, designed by Josep Fontserè in 1872, included a water reservoir concealed by a mound of earth at one end of the park. However, in 1874, the master builder was commissioned to construct a small, insignificant fountain for the park. The fountain's dimensions gradually increased until it became the Cascada Monumental known today, located in the romantic garden area of the park and accessible via winding paths. Construction began in 1875, and in 1888, the sculptural ensemble was installed.

The cascade was aligned with the Meridiana axis of the Cerdà Plan and was designed in an eclectic style. The monument is structured around a central body in the shape of a triumphal arch, two symmetrical side staircases, and an elevated fountain (possibly to recall the original mound from the 1872 project), surrounded by a two-level artificial lake. The whole ensemble is neoclassically inspired, contrasting with the naturalistic details of some decorative elements. At the rear of the cascade, there is an artificial grotto with a water reservoir at its top. The fountain was supplied with water from a reservoir located on Wellington Street, with a capacity of 15,000 m³, which irrigated the cascade and the gardens (now the library of Pompeu Fabra University).

Architects / Year Josep Fontserè i Mestres, 1875–1881; installation of the sculptures, 1888

Building file:

Location: Barcelona, Spain

Style: N/A

Date: end of 19th century

This house fits a 40x30 lot.

Hope you like it.

You will need the usual CC I use:

all Felixandre cc

all The Jim

SYB

Anachrosims

Regal Sims

King Falcon railing

The Golden Sanctuary

Cliffou

Dndr recolors

Harrie cc

Tuds

Lili's palace cc

Please enjoy, comment if you like the house and share pictures of your game!

Follow me on IG: https://www.instagram.com/sims4palaces/

@sims4palaces

DOWNLOAD, early access (06/20/2025):

[dr-vintura-o-serif]

What Do You Think The Human Souls Sound & Taste Like?

Ok so hear me out.

This is in reference to my take to Dusttale, or more accurately, the aftermath/sequel to Dusttale.

I’ve posted about this “revamp” of this AU in a previous post, but as a refresher:

This AU of an AU takes place after the events of Dusttale with some minor alterations. The story will mainly revolve around the survivors (heavily NPC based, with some main characters & my OC Vani). However, a few of the survivors try to bring back the dead by using a DT injections (much like in the game, except in this version: Alphys used Artificial Determination while the survivors use Determination collected from the human souls), also these new DT injections are mixed with the 7 human soul traits. This does work, but with some minor complications, which will be explained more in the notes.

Now to explain the question:

Basically the author of the notes is writing down their research & findings of each human souls; things like how common each trait are within humans, what injection they are used in, side effects of said injections, rpg style stats, etc. However there are 2 items of information that I might need some help on: What sound/pitch each soul trait makes &, for a hint of humor because “Undertale”, what each soul traits tastes like.

That’s where I looking to you all for assistance/headcanons for this.

*Side Note: When I say sound/pitch, I’m referring to the amount of Hertz (which I think is the measurement of sound wave frequency or pitch)*

*Side Side Note: In this AU, the red human soul trait is not Determination (since all humans have it) but instead is Willpower (I’ve seen a few saying it could be Love since its in red, but I think Willpower makes more sense)*

I already have the frequency picked for each soul, now I’m just trying to figure out what specific sound/noise they make.

Here’s what I have so far:

DETERMINATION

Color: Gold

Injection: DT-pDT PT v1.0

DETERMINATION Category: Pure DETERMINATION Injection Prototype version 1.0

Fallen Humans: All

Frequency: 0-20k+Hz

Sound Description:

Like a choir with every living thing singing

Sounds like screaming in an auditorium when distressed

Taste Description:

Similar to water that is both freezing & boiling

WILLPOWER

Color: Red

Injection: DT-WP PT v1.7

DETERMINATION Category: WILLPOWER Injection Prototype version 1.7

Fallen Humans:

Chara

Frisk

Frequency: 9.9k-10.6kHz

Sound Description:

Sizzles of an orchestra of cymbals constantly increasing & decreasing in volume

Taste Description:

Hot & salty copper

Metal sitting out in the heat

BRAVERY

Color: Orange

Injection: DT-BV PT v1.2

DETERMINATION Category: BRAVERY Injection Prototype version 1.2

Fallen Humans:

Hiro

Isaac

Frequency: 18.9k-19.6kHz

Sound Description:

Hoard of mosquitoes quickly approaching

Taste Description:

Fresh cold sweat with a hint of cinnamon & pumpkin pie

JUSTICE

Color: Yellow

Injection: DT-JT PT v1.6

DETERMINATION Category: JUSTICE Injection Prototype version 1.6

Fallen Humans:

Clover

Otis

Frequency: 15.9k-16.6kHz

Sound Description:

Hiss of a firework with anticipation of when said firework will explode

Taste Description:

Overly sweet & carbonated TV static flavored drink mixed with gunpowder

KINDNESS

Color: Green

Injection: DT-KN PT v1.5

DETERMINATION Category: KINDNESS Injection Prototype version 1.5

Fallen Humans: Sam

Frequency: 6.9k-7.6kHz

Sound Description:

Taste Description:

PATIENCE

Color: Cyan

Injection: DT-PE PT v1.1

DETERMINATION Category: PATIENCE Injection Prototype version 1.1

Fallen Humans:

Gena

Lily

Frequency: 999-1.6kHz

Sound Description:

Taste Description:

INTEGRITY

Color: Blue

Injection: DT-IG PT v1.3

DETERMINATION Category: INTEGRITY Injection Prototype version 1.3

Fallen Humans:

Dawn

Otto

Frequency: 12.9k-13.6kHz

Sound Description:

Taste Description:

PERSEVERANCE

Color: Purple

Injection: DT-PR PT v1.4

DETERMINATION Category: PERSEVERANCE Injection Prototype version 1.4

Fallen Humans: Yu

Frequency: 3.9k-4.6kHz

Sound Description:

Taste Description:

[mudzdale]

to the alien laboratory that created it and the intergalactic government that confiscated it, this lifeform is known as "Experiment 2224." it is an artificial being designed to fulfill one primary function: spread flowers and plant growth in excess wherever it goes, no matter the type, no matter the cost. it burrows through earth as easily as a dolphin swims through water, and is capable of "charging" plant seeds and propagules with its own energy to guarantee swift and excessive growth. its temperament is docile, but it will heedlessly tear up walkways and intrude upon ecosystems in its efforts to flood the environment with as much overgrowth as it can manage.

when Experiment 2224 is unexpectedly sent to an alien planet known as "Earth," its plant-spreading purpose is quickly eroded and replaced with a new objective: bring happiness to the residents of the sad, lonely town it has landed in. to the broken community that found it, this lifeform is known as "Flower Critter."

a few design notes under the cut (:

for some reason, this animal was very difficult to design. i really really wanted to avoid just making a Wacky Experiment(tm) in the style of the freakin lilo and stitch tv series, while simultaneously attempting to capture......a lot of elements that make stitch's design actually appealing. many drafts later, i finally got this thing. it of course retains stitch's ability to retract the limbs & antennae, it has his super strength, speed, etc... instead of being fluffy, though, its fur is very soft and short, reminiscent of extremely short-pile minky or similar fabrics.

that all said, depending on one's taste, i think a Flower Critter design could go all kinds of directions - heck, if anyone wanted to make their own to suit their own FK design or personality, i think that would be super cool (: they could be a beautiful herd...

i also don't have a "lilo" in this au, it's all just "stitch"... but an alternate take could have both. FK finds an alien flower beast and has to befriend it, dodging the efforts of the bounty hunters that pursue them relentlessly... i did not do this because my intent was to sort of just combine FK and the Tooth Lily into one narrative entity. i had it in mind that FK and FC would be too much in alignment, in terms of goals/personality, for the narrative conflict to work like it does between lilo and stitch... but it would actually probably could be very workable depending on one's FK interpretation, and if you want something a little different from the story that i had in mind.

my true dream had been to give it little beady eyes...

[homunculus-argument]

Woke up this morning with the words kultainen kieso in my head. Finnish. First word was immediately familiar, "golden, gilded", but I had no idea what the hell "kieso" is, though I was vaguely aware that whatever the context of the dream was, it was something that was either inherently gold-like in colour or shade, or gilded on surface, like sprinkled with gold dust or such - not a statue or model of one made out of gold. Whatever this kieso would be, it was the real deal, and not something artificially constructed. Nor was it something that's golden normally, but this particular one was distinct from the others by being golden in some way.

Kieso sounds like a finnish word, some sort of a flower or plant. I know the names kielo - lily-of-the-valley, and keiso - water hemlock. Or perhaps a bird of some sort, it could be the name of a bird. The image of something like a peacock, except in shimmering shades of golden brown, came to my head as well. But not exactly a peacock. Some bird, some flower, some one splendid particular specimen that stood apart from its own kin by being golden. I was so sure that this word has to be the name of something, it has to mean something, that I had to google it.

Turns out it's the name of some dude who writes textbooks about accounting.

[lolo3hwriting]

The White Lily Greenhouse - How Would It Work?

Pure Vanilla Cookie has always been a favorite character to me because of his hobby of gardening. As someone who gardens as well as studies horticulture, it’s fun to see all of the gardens and plants he has in the story. The most notable example for me is the White Lily Greenhouse because it plays such an important role in Pure Vanilla’s character and story. He built it as a place to relax and to enjoy the white lilies he loves so much. But it made me wonder, how in the world would he manage it? Realistically it would take a lot of effort, and considering it's a private greenhouse within his castle, Pure Vanilla would most likely take care of it all alone.

Before I get into anything, I wanted to talk about the specific type of lilies that Pure Vanilla grows. The character White Lily Cookie is based on lilies in general, but most significantly the Madonna Lily. However, I couldn’t find much information about growing Madonna Lilies (Lilium candidum) in greenhouses specifically, so most of the information I have is from growing Easter Lilies (Lilum longiflorum) or lilies (Genus Lilum) in general in greenhouses. The growing requirements are mostly the same, but might have a few slight differences.

Specific Requirements for Growing Lilies and Greenhouses

(Diagram of a bulb, image taken from here)

So first, I wanted to explain briefly about the morphology of lilies and how that impacts their management. Most lilies grow from bulbs, which are specialized structures made up of a short fleshy stem enclosed by thick, fleshy leaves. At the bottom of a bulb is the base plate where the stem, leaves, and roots grow from. One way to propagate lilies is through bulblets (also called bulbils), small bulbs that grow from the base plate, which can be removed and planted on their own. However, the most common way is through bulb scales where the first (and sometimes second) outer portion of the leaf scales are removed and planted. But whatever the case, both the bulblets and bulbs scales need to go though some period of cold temperatures to break their dormancy. This means you can plant them in the fall and let them stay over the winter, or you could put them in a refrigerator to chill. Considering the Vanilla Kingdom is in a mountainous region and high up in the sky, I’m sure they can be put outside before transferring them to the greenhouse.

Heating and lighting are two important factors in making lilies grow well. Lilies need full sun, which is about 6 hours per day. Generally a south facing greenhouse will have more light exposure, otherwise you may need artificial lighting. Lilies will start growing when temperatures are warm enough, so greenhouses usually aim for 60 F, but they can also grow well up to 75 F. I'll discuss how heating and lighting might work for the white lily greenhouse.

Although lilies are perennials and bloom year after year if you maintain them, most ornamental gardens will plant new bulbs every year because old bulbs won’t produce as much or as big flowers as younger bulbs do. This would mean Pure Vanilla would have to dig up old bulbs and plant new ones every year, unless he has some type of special magic that will make them bloom as big and numerous consistently.

Weeding and pest management are always something to keep in mind with greenhouses, but if you don't let them become a problem then it's pretty easy to deal with. Proper sanitation like removing weeds before they produce seeds, removing plant debris and dead plants, and having clean growing media will all help prevent problems. I think Pure Vanilla is vigilant enough to do all of that.

Historical Greenhouses

(A classic greenhouse from England, image taken from here)

In the past, greenhouses were heated just by the sun or with additional heating like furnaces, hot water, or steam. This meant that temperature control was not very precise and had to be fiddled with in order for the greenhouse to be properly heated. If this was the case, I think there would have been some type of boiler specifically for the greenhouse situated at a higher elevation so that the hot water/steam could be carried by gravity into the greenhouse. Water for irrigation had to be brought in unless you had a nearby water pump. Carrying water in would have taken a lot of effort, not to mention that you would have to do watering by hand, which would have been tedious for one person. However, I doubt that Pure Vanilla would mind with his patient nature and enthusiasm for gardening.

The cost of glass and steel to build the greenhouse itself would have been expensive. But taking into account that Pure Vanilla was a king, he probably didn’t have much trouble with the cost of construction or equipment. 

The Vanilla Kingdom is based on Germanic countries, and those countries have a long history of using greenhouses. During the 16th and 17th centuries places like England, France, Italy, and the Netherlands had greenhouses to grow exotic plants that they collected. So the locale and inspiration for the kingdom lines up.

The Modern Approach

(A modern Dutch style greenhouse, image from here)

Considering the Vanilla Kingdom had the waffle bots and advanced technology, it would be reasonable that Pure Vanilla could have access to more modern greenhouse technology similar to what we have today. Things like automatic misting systems, electrical and gas powered heating, and artificial greenhouse lighting. Not to mention all the sensors and timers that can help automate things. However, I’ve seen greenhouses built pretty recently that still use hot water pipes to heat the greenhouse and manually watering their plants. Seeing that Pure Vanilla is more old fashioned and traditional, he could have also run his greenhouse using old school methods. 

Of course, all of this can be hand waved with magic but I like to think that the creation of spells is also considered special techniques that have to be learned and trained. I'm sure that Pure Vanilla or even White Lily Cookie could have developed some type of specialized magic to grow plants easier, similar to how in real life new technology is constantly being developed in order to more efficiently grow plants.

Sources:

https://wyoextension.org/publications/html/B1185R/

[reydeyflummyx759z]

For those wondering...

Katya canonically has the photic sneeze reflex because she's a vampire, and the fact that her father has it bad. In a tanning salon, which neither Katya nor Liz would go to, Katya would have a hard time trying not to sneeze due to the UV light on her face. Any UV light, natural or artificial, makes her sneeze. Also, in a tanning bed, she'd probably be a sneezing mess due to the fumes and the light.

I'm black, and I don't know the mechanics of a tanning salon. Can someone enlighten me?! 😞

Even flashing her face with a flashlight or even the moonlight will make her to go into a fit of sneezes.

The fact I'm just noticing this is weird. 😂

Katya's also allergic to garlic, holy water, cats, and Lily of the valley.

Something both Liz and Katya will sneeze at: Cats and some "Holy" flowers.

[beingatoaster]

Remembered this story, which Isgrac told IC in the Feywild as payment for an inn stay, due to in-game events today. And I don't think I've posted it here yet! So have a little story from her childhood. :>

---

"Um. I guess… it's my turn? So, um, I have an aunt, Fer- furry, a worg aunt, you know how that is, right? We made friends with a pair here who were like that, too. My worg aunt lived with us, so my cousins and I lived together. And with the first litter of cousins, I was still young enough that we would run around together, too, and whenever my parents wanted time alone they'd ask my aunt to watch us. Or sometimes when we woke up really early, my aunt would hear us wake up but my parents would sleep through it, and she'd come out to see what we were doing… I think this might have been one of those times, actually, because I remember we were trying to sneak out?"

"So, um, we were trying to sneak out, because two of my cousins had been hunting frogs down near the river, and we wanted to see if we could catch one to show to my father. And a couple more for them to eat, probably, but they said they'd help me trap one for my father first. There's a place where a bridge goes over, and just past it one of the irrigation channels goes out, so someone widened that spot and put up a half-dike and made an artificial stone shore, and there's lilies in the water and a bench…."

"Anyway, that part doesn't matter, because the reason for this story is the half-dike had gotten broken in the first spring flood, and there was still snowmelt, and the water was still running high. My aunt asked us where we were going, so we said up to the third bridge, and she told us not to go too close to the water, because she wasn't coming along and she wasn't going to jump in after us if we were stupid enough to fall in. I, um, I think she thought the agricultural engineers would probably be out, because there are some fish farms along that stretch, but I don't think they were yet? Or maybe it was a rest day for them, or they couldn't work there until the half-dike was repaired, or- I don't remember. Just that it was early and chilly and there wasn't anyone else around when we got there."

"There weren't any frogs around either, because, um, there were a few waking up already that time of year, but it was too cold for them to be out in the mornings. Which we realized after we sniffed around on the rocks for a while, or, um, my cousins sniffed and I picked up rocks for them to sniff under. And then, because my father had been telling me about frogs the day before, that's why I wanted to bring him one, I said, maybe they were down in the mud in the riverbank? Hiding from the cold? And one of my cousins, the biggest and bravest and bossiest, said he would dig one out! And then he jumped in. And I, um, panicked and jumped in after him."

"Which I knew was stupid as soon as I jumped in, because the water was snowmelt, and along with running really fast and deep it was also freezing cold. I grabbed him around the neck, and all my muscles, uh, locked up? And so did his, I guess, because he was trying to swim but really badly, and we were being swept away downstream."

"The rest of my cousins went running yelling down the streets for someone to come help. And F- my aunt must have heard them howling, because we were going downstream, and I was getting water in my mouth and nose and starting to choke on it and all I could think about was that there was a waterfall coming up… and then we slammed into something, and it was my aunt, who'd jumped in the water, and she bit my cousin really hard to get a grip on us, she actually broke his leg grabbing on, and just sort of… shoved us both up onto the bank on the other side."

"And then she told off my cousin whose leg she'd bitten for whining when he'd been stupid enough to jump in in the first place, and told me off for being stupid enough to jump in after him, and then she made us climb up on her back, even though my cousin was almost half her size by then, and she carried us home and made us all apologize for the noise to every neighbor we passed. Then Ma- my mother grounded us for a month, but, um, that was fair, even if I didn't think so at the time. And my cousins weren't allowed to hunt any more frogs."

[bellysoupset]

Okay Soup, but now I'm curious, what smells do your OCs like the most? I know what scents they wear, but this...also any scents that make them downright sick?👀

Also a fun fact: whenever I want to write "like" my autocorrect goes "Luke" instead

@writing-whump

💕💕💕 i love your autocorrect, it know what's up!

(for real tho, I turned mine off because it kept trying to fill in with bellysoupset when I typed "be" and it was making me sooo paranoid)

So I didn't know the answer to this until I typed! Enjoy:

Bella: Anything mint! And the smell of the ocean, take this woman to the beach!! Bella also loves the smell of hair dye/bleach, it reminds her of home!

Luke: Coffee. He adores the smell of coffee, but he actually doesn't drink coffee because it upsets his tummy and makes him jittery😭 He loves cinnamon smell and whenever Bell wears any gloss cinnamon scented he's all over her. Freshly cut grass because of his field days!

Jonah: Adores the scent of freshly pressed clothes, with clothing softener, specifically cotton ones. He also loves the rubbing alcohol smell that all hospitals seem to have, Jonah is absolutely the type of person to apply hand sanitizer multiple times a day, just because of the smell (this means he uses a heavy duty hand cream at home and Leo kinda hates how sticky it makes his hands right before bed lol)

Leo: BOOKS! The older, the better! Leo is not even the biggest bookworm of the group, but he loves the smell of old dusty books. Anything that smells rotten like... fruity? Idk how to describe it, real people know that rotten weirdly sweet smell, is enough to make Leo GAG. In fact, bananas don't make it to their place because Leo thinks they're super gross when they start turning brown.

Wendy: She loves the smell of flowers! Her place always has fresh ones, jasmines, lilies and peonies, and by coincidence Vince's after shave is lavender scented and she's FERAL about it. Wendy hates the smell of sunscreen, but exclusively because that's what her mom's clinic smelt like and she has a lot of bad memories tied to home.

Vince: That kitchen smell of garlic, onions, basil and olive oil will never not make this man extremely happy. He also really likes the smell of nail polish, so he doesn't mind one bit painting Wen's nails for her, unfortunately she rarely asks 😭. (Little detail, Wendy does not have nail art even though she adores it, because she works in healthcare. She keeps them quite short and just with a thin coat of glitter. )

Max: Max is a pyromaniac at heart, so he loves the smell of a freshly blown candle, of fireplaces, but also GASOLINE. Inhaling that stuff like a crazy person. He likes the sea as well, like Bella does, that salty water smell. Hates when things are too sweet, such as those artificial strawberry scent/flavor in lollipops, just makes him shudder.

[myreia]

Seasons Passing

—part iv: summer rains

Rating: Teen Characters: Y'mhitra Rhul, Aymeric de Borel, Yugiri Mistwalker, Erenville, Avi'li Sostomi (WoL) Pairings: Y'mhitra x Avi'li, Aymeric x Avi'li, Yugiri x Avi'li, Erenville x Avi'liChapter Words: 1,297 Summary: For every season, a new love. Whether it is watching the soft fall of autumn leaves with Y’mhitra or the cold snows of winter with Aymeric, the spring blossoms with Yugiri or the summer rains with Erenville, these are the relationships Avi’li Sostomi holds in his heart. Chapters: one • two • three • four Read on AO3 Belated birthday gift for @lilas! Avi'li belongs to them. 💕

The rain hasn’t stopped in Labyrinthos.

Avi’li wades along the bank of the river—murky water up to his calves, arms folded, tail whisking—and casts an irritable look at the sky. For all its grand innovation, Labyrinthos is like any other invention: sometimes it breaks. For no good reason. It has been raining for two weeks straight, disrupting its usually carefully controlled weather patterns and turning it into something akin to a summer monsoon. The engineers are working on it, but so far no progress has been made.

“You would think it would run out of water eventually,” Avi’li grumbles.

Erenville chortles some feet away. He’s further out from shore, standing waist-deep in the muck, protected by a pair of waterproof overalls not unlike the kind worn by fishers. “What is running out of water now?” he asks, carefully examining the perimeter of a vibrant lily pad. For something so large, it certainly is fragile. Avi’li swears he remembers running and jumping on some while being chased by sentient flora… in Saint Mocianne’s Arboretum, maybe…?

“The sky,” Avi’li clarifies, nodding upwards for added emphasis. “Don’t know about you, but I’m tired of lookin’ and feelin’ like a bedraggled rat.”

Erenville looks up from his work, quiet amusement in his yellow eyes. “There is an artificial water cycle here same as there is outside, you know,” he says dryly. “Evaporation, condensation, precipitation… So on and so forth. If Labyrinthos’ sky runs out of water, we’ll have a pretty big problem on our hands. In that case, I recommend heading for the surface immediately.”

“And why is that?”

“Because the sun might just explode, vaporizing everyone and anyone within a certain radius. Can you hand me the journal, please?”

Avi’li’s lips twist as he holds back a smile. “All right, all right, I give up—if it means the sun won’t explode, the unending rain is a good thing,” he replies and scoops the journal from his pocket, proffering it. “I’d rather it wreak havoc on my hair than wreak havoc on my hair and everythin’ else.”

Erenville snorts with laughter. “I must admit, I underestimated you. I didn’t take you to be one so vain.”

“I’m not vain.” Have you met Thancred? The joke lingers on the tip of his tongue, unvoiced. The thought makes him think of his friends, of his fellow Scions, of their scattered organization and the events leading up to their disbandment. They have all gone their separate ways, pursuing their own causes and interests and projects while he is…

Here. Recovering. Healing.

The others worry about him, though they do not say it. He could go back to the way he was before. Fall into old patterns. Keep up his training, perhaps travel all the way to Doma to spar with Yugiri. He could convince everyone his soul is no longer battered and bruised and bleeding, that he is back to the person he was before Ultima Thule. It would be the performance of a life time, and it would break his heart.

Labyrinthos is what he needs right now. Some would call it wasting time, but he would like to think of it as finding time. Time to rest. Time to reflect. Time for all the things he set aside while putting duty first.

Time for himself.

Avi’li raises a hand and drags his fingers through his wet hair, trying to pull it into some kind of presentable look. Perhaps Erenville is  a little right, he has at least a smidge of vanity. But he would consider it taking pride in his appearance. It is, after all, a reminder of what he has been through. What he has survived—and how. From the ragged scar on his chest to the toned muscles of his arms and legs, there’s a history here. He has come a long way from the lean, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed scholar excitedly sailing into Limsa Lominsa to pursue the study of arcanima.

If he had a portrait for every season of his life and put them in a line, you could see the story play out.

A warm weight presses into the back of his hand, slender fingers brushing his skin. “Thank you,” Erenville murmurs.

He doesn’t take the journal.

Avi’li pauses, a familiar sensation thumping in his chest. It’s been there for some time, nebulous and vague, like a distant shore on the horizon when emerging from the early morning fog. Funny how once when he thought of Old Sharlayan, he imagined visiting the city and the Studium with Y’mhitra at his side, winding their way through countless stacks of books in pursuit of knowledge. But Y’mhitra is in the far past now, and he finds himself with someone very different, standing in mud and chasing frogs and examining plants, and it feels…

Good. It feels good.  

Is it really all that different? The same impulse drives research and observation and study no matter what form they take. Labyrinthos is his library, the environment his stacks of books.

He has always enjoyed Erenville’s company, to be sure. Pleasant and kind and cheerful and funny in that dry way of his. And he is very attractive—the curve of his lips when he smiles, the soft dark of his lashes, the lean muscle accrued from a gleaner’s life. But the more they wander Labyrinthos, the more they delve the depths of its caves and scale the heights of its cliffs, wade through its rushing rivers and walk its winding paths, the more they discuss science and philosophy and anything that takes their fancy as they follow the birds and the animals…

The more he has come to realize there is something there, beneath the surface.

Avi’li clears his throat. “You’re welcome,” he says and lets the journal go.

Erenville smiles, an ear dipping down in quiet approval, and retrieves a pen. He flips through to a blank page and scribbles down his findings, pausing every so often to prod the lily pad with a finger and examine the effect. “You know you do not have to keep me company if you do not want to,” he says after a moment.

“I want to.”

“This work is not for everyone.”

“Good thing I’m not everyone.”

“I’m sure there are more exciting things that match an adventurer’s taste, like hunting for treasure or sailing the seas or setting out into the unknown—”

Avi’li sloshes through the water towards him. “Erenville,” he interrupts. “You said it yourself, the sun could explode down here. Screw the treasure. From where I’m standin’, that’s excitement enough.”

Erenville glances up from the journal, trying to stifle a laugh.

Avi’li tilts his head and stares up at him through the rain. He is up past his waist in the river now, the water swirling urgently about him. Such a rush, such a hurry—and yet all he feels is calm. A part of him is desperate to be spontaneous, to throw his arms around his neck and drag him down into a kiss. It would be a good time for a kiss. Good circumstances for a kiss. It would answer the question he has caught himself daydreaming about more than once.

Kissing him now would be bold. But it would forfeit this other thing, this subtle thing that has become so precious to him in the past few weeks. Something slow, something gentle, something content to take its time.

Maybe for once he can take his time. Maybe there is no need to rush after the end of the world.

“I’m here because I want to be,” Avi’li says firmly. “I mean that.”

Erenville smiles, eyes twinkling. “I am glad for that. Shall we see what is on the other side of the river, then?”

[terras-domain]

Forever More (Ahn Yujin x Male Reader)

Reader’s POV

  Another stressful day at work. Fuck my body is aching so bad lately. Good thing weekends are near, now just need to kick back and relax at home. “Honey, I hoooome~” I called, waiting for a respond to come back at me. Instead of a shout back at me, I saw an angel’s face beaming at me, an innocent smile reflecting in my pupils. “Baby?” she said, giddily walking towards me and giving a sniff on my body. “IT IS YOUUUUUU” she shouts out her happiness, hugging me tight I couldn’t breathe for a moment. It’s always been something that we do together whenever, whether it’s the first thing in the morning, or I just got home from work. The love of my life, Yujin will always be there for me and giving the brightest of smiles takes the pain away. We’ve been dating for three years and even though we decided not to get married, I’m still the happiest man in the world and content with her.

  “What you up to baby?” I asked, it’s not usual to see Yujin working in the kitchen, not to mention doing it alone. “Awwww c’mon babe, you think I’d forget, did you?” she raised an eyebrow, making a smug face as she sighed. “It’s our third anniversary silly!” With a face that screams “TA-DA” she presented the dining table looking well made, a small flowerpot with indigo-coloured lilies in it with an artificial candle to set the mood. “So, what do you think?” her hands behind her back and tilting her head with the cutest smile one could ever imagine. All I could do was smile and cup her cheeks with my hands, giving her a peck of kiss on her lips. “I love it, my little babyboo.” I smiled back at her, enjoying the moment as we shared a quick romantic moment before a sudden unpleasant smell reeked in the kitchen. “OH FUCK, THE PASTA!!” It felt as if the part where we should be kissing deeply into each other’s mouth suddenly went to a halt, and the overcooked pasta had to ruin the scene.

“Nauurrrr. It’s ruined.” A clear display of disappointment is shown in her pouting face as she looked down at the mushed-up pasta noodles go down the drain, as well as the pot since the stove absolutely baked and burnt the pot as well, leaving us with a spaghetti sauce with no spaghetti to eat with. “I am so sorry baby….I don’t know what to say” crystals starts to form underneath her round puppy like eyes, pouring down as the self-guilt hit her hard. I couldn’t bare watching it and just wiped the tears of her face, gently caressing her face. “Aww don’t say that baby. It’s far from over. We can always improvise, right?” with a gentle smile to convince her, I gave her a big hug as an of comfort. Yujin has always been a sensitive person ever since we dated so it’s not something odd for me to comfort her. “C’mon, I’m sure we have some instant noodles in the shelf. Let’s use it as our noodles, what do you say, Ms. Chef?” I reached into the shelf and grabbed a pack of instant noodles and tossed it to her, seeing a brighter reaction than she was a few minutes ago after the sad story of the fallen noodles. Since our pot is also burnt, we decided to prepare our ‘pasta’ with hot water, doing it the plebian student-ish way despite being grown adults.

 It didn’t take long before our dinner could get started (it really wasn’t, instant noodles literally only take 2 minutes to make). With whatever we had on we sat at the dining table and had a good meal together where we laughed at the incident and had a nice evening to loosen up. It’s great to see Yujin back to her angelic smile again, it’s way better than seeing her all sad and depressed. “Thanks for the quick improvision bae. If you didn’t help in just now, I’d be by the trash can crying right now.” She sighed and took a sip of water from her glass, clearing her throat from the rather dry meal, possibly because the sauce was dry. I could feel the food lacking a lot of things, but who am I to complain, it was made by my only Yujin, and what matters is she made it with all her love. No matter how dried and unseasoned it is I’d still finish it all like a man who hasn’t eaten for weeks. “Umm baby”, Yujin paused me with a soft calling. “Mhm?” I gave a short reply, my mouth filled with the instant noodles topped with Yujin’s dry spaghetti sauce. Yujin could only give out a soft giggle, but it didn’t take long for that to build up until she chuckled and laughed out loud, looking at my face. “What’s wrong?” I asked, which Yujin immediately responded. “You look so adorable what the fuck hahahaha!” she shook her head and reached out to me, grabbing a cloth to wipe a stain of tomato sauce off my face. “Slow down dumbass, food’s not going anywhere.” She shook her head, smirking as a reaction to my attitude.

  As time passes by, we exchanged laughter and conversation kept going and going till one point we just thought it was time to hit to the bed – the best part of having a significant other. As we both laid in bed, I just had to lay on top of Yujin’s soft tummy, feeling her breath moving her body up and down, the warmth forever soothing me. Yujin made a sincere smile while looking down at me, caressing my hair. “It was a tiring day, wasn’t it?” Yujin broke the silence, asking as she hummed a little song as she kept playing around with my scalp, scratching it gently and swirling my hair. I couldn’t say a word, all it there was, was a little nod followed by a little sobbing, tears running down my eyes and flows onto hers. “I just don’t know. I appreciate you so much Yujin. I can’t say that life isn’t as tough as it is.” I sobbed, hugging her tight and before we know it, it was a tight cuddling, each of us holding each other tightly, embracing ourselves in a vulnerable state. “I understand baby, it’s a tough life. And I appreciate you for being strong for me, for us. I’m proud at what you’ve grown into after all this time.” Yujin embraced me, holding my face as I watch those eyes beaming at me as if it’s a ray of hope, her soft fingers wiping my tears off before she gives a soft kiss on the forehead. It felt magical, almost as if a burden was lifted off my body and I felt lighter. Yujin’s soft lips didn’t stop there. Her lips travelled and pecked all over my face, kissing me gently. And whilst that the same three words repeated again and again, almost like it was singed into my ears and stored into my brain. “I love you.” Was all I heard every time her lips crashed landed on my face until they touch my lips. Yujin took her time there, taking as long as she wants to kiss me, and eventually the innocent healing kiss turned sensual, and a touch of romantic lust injected into our bodies.

 Our little make out led one thing to another, and it ends up with me sliding my hands underneath her shirt, grabbing Yujin’s perky breasts as our mouth were practically glued to each other, making out as much as we could. Yujin’s soft moans radiate inside my mouth as we threw each piece of garments the floor, leaving us without a string to cover us up. “Take me babe” Yujin urged me as she pulled me back in to get a good kiss into my mouth. I replied to her kiss as I pinned her on the bed, letting my tongue invade her mouth to play inside her mouth before pulling out. We both breathed heavily, as if we just ran a marathon. But I didn’t care, my face traced down her gorgeous body, before my lips reached her golden triangle. I gave took my time smooching around the area, teasing her as I looked up, her red face flustered from my actions just motivates me more as I kissed and suckled gently on her inner thighs, making Yujin let out a soft moan. “Fuck…. baby please…. don’t just tease me. Please me baby” she pleaded, her adorable puppy eyes begging to be treated right as my lover. I shrugged with a sinful smile as I stood up and aligned my erection to her entrance, my face directly on top of hers. “Ready?” I signalled her, not even letting her grasp a second t reply before my cock penetrates inside her, gaping her walls inch by inch slowly, making Yujin let out a whimper to show her satisfaction. I gave her time to adjust to my size, using the time to return the kiss on the forehead she gave early before my body did its work, moving back and forth inside her.

Yujin’s moans were ecstasy to me. The more her sounds coming out of her pretty mouth, the faster I got. It got to a point I just couldn’t help myself and start to plow her insides, holding her legs up to reach deeper inside her. “Aaah nghhh oh God Yujin you’re as tight as ever fuuuck” I grunted, feeling my cock hitting her cervix as kept my pace fast but still sensual for Yujin to enjoy it. “Ohhh fuck yes baby just like that. Give me all of you please” she moaned as her arms wrapped onto my back, encouraging me to go harder and faster for her. The room that was quiet a moment ago is now filled with moans, whimpers and other lustful noises one could think of. Yujin’s arms on my back abled me to lift her up and make her sit on my cock, letting her do her part of and work for our growing lust. I brushed her hair away from that pretty face to kiss her whilst she rides on me, grinding her body on mine while my cock enjoys the depth and warmth of Yujin’s pussy. The heat in the room just overwhelms each other as we crave to satisfy one another, Yujin grinding on my cock and me thrusting it deeper inside. “God fuuck I love you so much Yujin” I groaned as my cocks harden inside her, making me much more sensitive as Yujin gets tighter, sucking in my member like its refusing to let go. I could barely move or thrust from how tight it is and could just moan from the pleasure Yujin is giving me by grinding on me while bouncing a bit on top of me. Yujin’s scrumptious ass was too good not to touch as I caress them gently, feeling them while Yujin rides me, enjoying each other’s presence as our eyes’ stares into each other, the lust from our moans and the heat of the moment, everything was on point and was just perfect. Yujin pushed me to lay down so she can fully take charge, leaning towards my chest to kiss and suck on my nipples before she starts riding again, this time faster and rougher to the point I was moaning loudly and could barely hold my load any longer. “B-baby, I need to cum….”  I grunted and whimpered, trying so hard not to cum too soon without Yujin’s consent, which in the end she allowed me to by saying, “Then cum for me baby. Give me every ounce of you inside me.” Those words whispered into my ears were like a catalyst to erupt a volcano, making me shoot ropes after ropes of cum inside her. “Nghhhh aaah. Fuuuuck I’m cummiiiing.” I grunted, unloading everything my balls could store into her tight pink pussy and filled her up. Yujin moaned and came together with me, feeling her pussy getting filled up and draining her energy. Didn’t take long before she fell onto me, exhausted and nearly lost consciousness from such an amazing anniversary celebration. I couldn’t help but smile and kissed on her scalp, softly speaking into her ears. “I love you Ahn Yujin, to the moon and back”. Even though I couldn’t see her face that’s is planted on my chest, I just know she was smiling before she responded.

“I love you, forever more”

[moons-rising]

world building wednesday: PLANTS

narcala-ranar's signature plant is sunbeam rotala, which grows all over the clan's territory. it's never kepts in pots or garden plots, as it's supposed to be allowed to grow wild and free, and vast swathes of healthy thriving sunbeam rotala are seen as a good omen for the health and prosperity of the clan.

popular plants to be kept in pots on window sills and grown as ornamentation around the town's buildings are dayglo thresh, hallowed ivy, chickweed and dusty marigold.

potted fire lilies and cindervines are meticulously cared for to remember the clan's roots in the ashfall waste.

for food, the clan's gardens and fields grow strawberries, luminous almonds, sweet potatoes, honeycrisp apples and sunbeam figs. potash peaches and cindermint grow plenty on the slopes of the island volcano that cradles the town, and water lettuce can be found in many small artificial waterway weaving between other garden plots. along the coastline, seaberries are a popular snack, and giant kelp is gathered from the sea of thousand currents.