#magic scents

[skeleton-mischief]

Magic and the wonders of Flavor & Scent

Below, I have written my personal headcanons for the color, scent, and flavor for the Sanses. These are the ones I have for the x reader roommates. If you guys wanna ask for personal requests (wink wonk) then don't be afraid to ask.

I'll put it under a suggestive tag as well just in case some of you may want to avoid those. I don't outright do 18+ often, but the comfort of others is important so bam, this is a warning. Anyways, enjoy!

Vanilla: His magic is more of a light blue. It smells of frost and pine while his magic tastes of light vanilla. It's not too overpowering, especially since he doesn't use it often and he has good control of his magic

Powder: His magic is a powder blue, especially since US is more of a pastel world to me. His magic smells of spearmint while his magic tastes like blueberry and cotton candy. It has a bit of a smoother taste

Red: His magic is a dark, crisis red. It smells of burning wood while his magic tastes of cherry limeade. His magic is stronger in tastes due to his LV

Saint: His magic is a cornflower blue despite his red eyelight. His magic smells of veviter and sandalwood while his magic tastes of vanilla and apple. It has a bit of an overwhelming tastes due to his control of magic

Carmine: His magic is carmine red. His magic smells of frost and mint while his magic tastes like red raspberries. It's stronger in taste but smooth, a little overpowering

Razz: His magic is a blue-french violet. His magic smells of sugar and of something electric while his magic tastes like blackberries and dark chocolate. His magic tastes overwhelming with a smooth, strong flavor. It happens to have a tingling sensation afterwards due to the raw power he is on the brink of constantly losing

Wine: His magic is a wine red. His magic smells like pomegranate while his magic tastes like almond and wine. It is not too strong and it happens to have the smoothest in tastes since his magic is under extreme control

Dust: His magic is a slate blue violet shade. His magic smells of leather, citrus, and slightly of tobacco while his magic tastes of vanilla berry and slightly metallic. It's a bit of a tingling sensation afterwards since he has an overwhelming amount of LV. The reason for the hint of citrus is because of Pap's magic being fused with Dust's

Closing Notes: please remember that if you guys do have any asks, please specify and keep it within just x reader since I don't do any other types of shipping on my blog. Thank you for reading and please don't be shy with your asks. I prefer fluff content but the occasional suggestive themes might appear, especially if you guys have requests :-))

[dapper-lil-arts]

mares who smell bad

[rahuratna]

Synopsis: [Astarion x Reader/Tav] Wilful, witty, vulnerable and endearing, Astarion blossoms slowly under the ever-present sunshine of your love.

CW: Explicit sexual content, mentions of past trauma.

Banner art: by Steven Nederveen

Dividers: @aquazero

" ... time and again

No fire where I lit my spark

I am not afraid of the dark

Where your words devour my heart ... "

~ lyrics from Distant Sun (by Crowded House)

His scent infiltrates your dreams, the dry floral notes and the rusty tang of old blood, the unique underlying essence that never fails to bring his face to the forefront of your mind.

When he falls asleep, back pressed to yours, it is merely a prelude to how you wake the following morning, with his head tucked into the crook of your neck, or pillowed between your breasts, the soft white curls grazing your cheek as you keep your breathing light and even, so as not to interrupt his slumber. You know the gentle scent of his scalp better than anyone has a right to.

There is something that goes far beyond the pleasures of the flesh when you are together like this; two easily doused candle-flames that reach for each other, flickering, across the distance of bleak memory, pain and loss.

Such a tenuous connection, so easily fractured. Yet, even through all the trials you've faced thus far, losing him had somehow transformed into an idea you simply would not countenance.

The land might burn, your enemies might dance on the ashes of the people you had failed, but Astarion's fingers winding uncertainly through yours would be the only sensation you wanted to experience at the end of the world.

You thought about it now, as rain pattered on the roof of your tent, the inside dry and warm from the heat of the enchanted lamp. He had joined you a short while earlier, wordlessly, as was his habit. To give voice to the immensity of what he had to overcome, every single time he entered your tent of his own free will, would be more than he was capable of fully processing at this time.

He lay beside you now, with his chin propped against the top of your head.

He was awake.

"Astarion?"

"Darling."

"What kind of weather do you like best?"

He was silent for a while. You lay still, relaxed. Sometimes, pauses in conversation could stretch out for ages, because time ceased to place its shackles on either of you. Even the most mundane topic was up for discussion. Words filled space with comfort. Stolen time was sacred time.

"Hmm. Weather like this, I suppose. It makes being inside feel ... somewhat better."

"You certainly weren't born for the outdoors."

He raised his fingernails for you to inspect.

"Absolutely not! Look at these beauties. Imagine if they became stained with grass, or earth, or worse still ... chipped."

"That would be grievous indeed."

A low rumble of amusement made its way up through his throat.

"What about you, my dove? If I could guess - "

"Cooler weather. Maybe breezy."

His touch skimmed, feather-light, up your arm. In times past, such an action would have been a clear provocation, an invitation to something more intimate. You acknowledge it in your mind, absorb it, like a plant takes in sunlight. Astarion is your sun, small and fitful, burning you down to the bone when you least expect it, fighting for his place in your universe.

You reached out, fingertips brushing his. He paused, allowing your hands to connect, palm to palm. His fingers are longer than yours, strong, clever. You've seen him take apart complex locking mechanisms with such ease, the same ease with which he'd unraveled your body the first time you'd been together.

"Where did you learn to pick locks?"

He lowered his hand and lay back, staring at the roof of the tent. You splayed out at his side, two children watching the imagined turn of the heavens.

"I ... think I learned it from a criminal. One I represented in a case, long ago. He was talkative. Couldn't shut him up, really. Told me how he had cracked a simple safe. I followed his instructions on a similar safe, as a demonstration."

"And you succeeded?"

You could almost sense the curve of his mouth.

"On the first try. He was so proud. Ha. Called me a natural."

You turned your head, smiling slightly. He looked self-satisfied, in that manner of a cat that gets into the choice cream.

Gods, he was lovely to look at, here in your tent, with you. Your gaze traces the impossibly artful tangle of pale curls, the elegant bridge of his nose, the sharp corners of his scarlet eyes and the movement of his perfectly curved lips.

He cocked an eyebrow, expression growing predatory, knowing.

"Darling, you're staring."

You laughed.

"Do you blame me?"

"Honestly? No."

He propped himself on an elbow, playfully prodding at your face until you were forced to swat at him. He sobered suddenly, hands falling away. You suspected you knew what he was about to ask. It was never far away from his thoughts, after all.

"Is this enough for you? Just talking? Just falling asleep together?"

You also knew by now that words weren't adequate to allay his fears. Turning over on your side, you faced him, fingers tracing softly over the profile you'd admired a few moments ago. You smoothed out the worry lines on his forehead, the skin cool and smooth as marble beneath your touch.

"This is more then enough. Do you know why?"

"Why?"

"Because these are the things I've always wanted."

Your index finger trailed down to the tip of his nose, where you decided a kiss needed to be placed. He leaned forward, unknowingly.

"You wanted ... this? How we are now?"

"Yes. A lover is nice and all, Astarion, but I've always wanted a partner. Someone to laugh with. Someone to grouse to. Someone to sit with their back to mine in the cold and share my bread with me. Someone to whisper to when the darkness grows closer."

He was silent for a bit, hesitating. You passed your thumbs across the high cheekbones, watching as he fell slowly into the comforting familiarity of the contact. When he spoke, something bitter caught in his throat.

"But I'm not ... capable of some of those things, you know. I can't keep you warm with my body. I can't laugh like others do. I can't eat with you, nor can I claim that darkness hasn't found a permanent home inside me."

You stroked across the corners of his mouth, avoiding his lips and then tracked upwards once again, along the delicate point of his ears, into the feathery silk of his hair.

"That's all right."

"It is?"

"It is, because I say so. Astarion, very few people actually end up inhabiting the castles they build in the air. Sometimes, they find a real home. A home that's so much better. A place they belong."

His voice had now sunk to a whisper.

"Am I ... that to you?"

"Yes."

He was silent, and you didn't press him. Sometimes, it was better to inform him of the way you felt, and to give him time to mull it over. He shifted, restless, before planting a sudden, rather solid kiss on your lips.

There was no artifice behind it, no coy seduction. It was surprisingly factual, a statement of feeling, of earnest intent.

"I'll have you know," he stated seriously, "that I won't have you comparing me to some homely log cabin. Oh no. I'm nothing short of a stately, luxurious home, built on the side of a sharp precipice, overlooking the most glorious snd treacherous sea."

"That's a rather precarious position to be in, don't you think?"

He sat up, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, eyes now animated and captivating.

"But that's half the fun! Will a terrible tempest come along and sweep us away? Will a sea monster rise up from the depths and capture us in its jaws?"

His feral grin was now infectious. You straightened and faced him.

"You're only thinking in terms of disasters! That's poor planning. What about the subtle magics of the air that work directly against rock over time? Erosion is as dangerous as any sea monster, you know. Just a tad less showy."

"And what, darling, do you suggest we do about this mortal peril we find ourselves in?"

"We do exactly as we've done so far. We hammer the walls furiously into place, then drink wine and dance and stamp our feet to see how the repairs hold up."

He threw back his head and let out a laugh, warm, heady, the kind that roughened around the edges and brimmed with the wicked delight that you knew had kept him alive, for all of this time. Unable to help yourself, you placed a gentle kiss to the curve of his throat, moving away again, until he grasped your chin firmly and tugged you back.

His mouth was a stark contrast to the way his fingers sunk almost desperately into your cheeks, a gentle mapping out of teeth, tongue, sealed with the exquisite drag of his fangs across your lip.

Forehead pressed to yours, he breathed out the words, as if they'd been chained in the heavy confines of his chest.

"I want to ... I want ... you. I want ... this."

He had said something similar before, under different circumstances. You knew what he was referring to. Gently, you pushed him back. The dim light turned the red of his gaze to the flesh of a pomegranate, tempting, yielding, so easily crushed between your fingers.

"Astarion ... you don't have to - "

"I know. I know you'll wait for me for God knows how long, and I don't know why, because I - "

He bit his lip, but changed tack.

"The reasons ... are important. I know that better than anyone. But I don't want to think. I want to feel. I want to be able to just do this without - "

Worldssly, you drew him towards you, cradling his head against your chest, a return to the familiar. It's the only message that's ever mattered, at least, to you. That he always had a place, whether in your open arms, or across the breadth of the world, or in another realm altogether.

He'd occupy a space that can be filled by no other, with his easy charm, his bruised smile, the bitter twist of his spirit and every sharp edge that sliced you open and infiltrated the furthest corners of your heart.

"What do you want, Astarion?"

"To feel you."

He spoke into the hush of your tent, his breathing laboured. If you had been anyone else, you might have mistaken it for sheer arousal, nothing more. You knew better.

He was nervous. He was letting you see it.

You placed your hands on his shoulders and he lowered himself, propped on his palms on either side of you. You considered him, warmth and sorrow blooming simultaneously in your chest.

"You'll tell me? If anything I do makes you feel ... "

"Yes, my love. I'll ... yes. Right away."

"Stay still. Keep your eyes on me," was the soft command you gave him.

You undid the laces of his shirt, sliding it from him. His skin gleamed with otherworldly pallor, and the knowledge of what had been carved into his back filtered into your mind. You coudn't make him forget, but you could remind him that touch could be tender too.

Such was the way you handled him, as the shirt was pulled away from his torso fully, the ridged planes of his lean abdomen fluttering slightly under your fingers. He was hyper-sensitive to the sensations you brought, a temporary spike in his breathing.

This was nothing like your previous encounter, when he had confidently displayed himself, instructing you on how to please him. You watch the lift of dense, dark lashes, the hesitancy in his glance, the way he raised his head and arched his neck to gift you the same vulnerability always granted to him when you let him feed.

You kept your palms flat against him, grounding him, as you ran them over throat, delicately traced collarbones, stroked down over the curve of his pectorals, down, down, until you stopped right above the buckle of his belt before repeating the process.

His breathing evened out. He leaned down to capture your lips, a little more steady and with more of his old flair. He nipped lightly down on your chin, playful.

You didn't want him to inhabit the persona he'd worn for so long as some kind of defense, and this definitely felt different. As fraught with nerves as he was, he was regaining some of the self he only showed when you were safely ensconced away from the world.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, and he let out an involuntary groan, low and wanton, a sound that spiked jagged heat all the way down the front of your body.

Before you have time to register his actions, Astarion lowered himself, pressing you into the bedroll. There was no art to the way he rolled his hips against yours, no finesse to the way he clumsily mouthed your neck, eager, warm.

"Astar - ahhh - slow down, you - "

"Can't, my sweet - oh yes - I feel - want you so much. I - "

He tugged down your trousers, dragging your underwear away with it. As much as this seemed far more organic that anything he'd done before, the heated throb of arousal didn't distract you from the fact that he was rushing things, perhaps in a frantic bid to prove that he could do this.

You clamped your thighs together, temporarily denying him access and he sat back on his haunches, panting. The raw hunger with which he regarded you made you as slick as melting ice. You had both gone so long without sex, something you were more than happy to accept. You knew all too well, however, the cost of succumbing to pure lust when there was something far more significant at play.

"I know what you want - "

"Then let me have it. I'm no fragile bloom, my sweet - "

"Astarion."

You stifled a smile as he huffed and folded his arms.  

"Fine. I'm listening. But don't delay. I need you."

The ache in his voice almost has your legs falling apart again, but you hold firm.

"Can you take everything off?"

In reply, he stood and unbuckled his belt, but then paused and shot you a mischievous look.

You knew that look. Your mouth twitched.

"What are you up to?"

"Giving you a show, that's all."

"Oh Gods, is now really the time for - "

"Well, since you're being so stiff, let Hortensius help you along."

"Please, not Hortensius."

"But darling, he's already here. Now, be nice."

He sucked in his cheeks, in the manner of one of the high end fashion models of the Upper City and wagged his hips from side to side, lips projecting in an exaggerated pout as the pants slid from his body. Your smile turned to a helpless quiver of suppressed merriment as he kicked the offending article away and then grasped his rigid member, advancing on you without ever losing the expression.

"My name is Hortensius Dickanthropus and you, my dear, are about to be subject to a most thorough porking."

You lowered your voice, soft and breathy.

"Oh my, Hortensius, I don't know how my poor little flower will take all of that."

Astarion dropped to a predatory crouch, crawling over to you. His grin was wide, canines toothily on display.

"Ah, my blushing maid, don't be shy! I may have a horse's cock, but I'm going to be as delicate as a pixie."

You covered your breasts in false modesty as he sidled down alongside you.

"A pixie? I saw a pixie in my bushes last week. They're so ... naughty. And fast. Are you going to piston me into the middle of next week, Hortensius?"

"With pleasure. I'm going to piston you like the Steel Watch itself is between your legs - "

Your composure gave way and you slapped at his shoulder.

"Not the fucking Steel Watch, for God's sake - "

"Why?" His fingers danced over your hips. "Maybe create another little Foundry down here - "

You're now shaking with laughter and Astarion watched you, the cheeky smirk slipping by inches, eyes kindling with an infinite warmth and adoration that only you are party to. You realised, as your mirth faded, that you had been carrying a great deal of tension too, and that he'd effectively dragged it away from you, deconstructing the last barrier; your fear of hurting him.

In spite of your earlier fervour, you clasped his cheeks between your palms and pressed his forehead to yours, staying like that for a while. He did not object, nose nudging sweetly against yours.

"Astarion, I want to try something."

"Go ahead."

In truth, you'd learned this minor illusion from Gale, whose knowing smile had almost had you running for the hills when you'd first asked him to teach it to you.

Fingers extending upward, you closed your eyes and focused on the Weave, drawing it closer to you, shaping with precision. Astarion exclaimed softly and you dropped your hand, ready to behold your work.

A fall of many-hued petals, delicate as snow, drifted down from the roof of the tent, each disappearing as they settled on the bedroll and your reclining forms. A pleasant scent, earthy and reminiscent of a forest clearing in the springtime, permeated the air. Soft golden motes danced between you, each emitting a delicate luminosity.

Astarion was watching the display with amused delight, allowing you to catch him off guard. Tipping him over onto his back, you took in the sight of him, fully nude, satiny skin and curls dusted in the remnants of illusory wildflowers, indigo, variegated red and yellow, rich royal purple and the dusky blush of dawn.

"You're so lovely. And free."

You banished petals with your caress, all the way down to the perfectly carved valley of his pelvis.

"I want the world to stand still when I look at you because there's no room for anything else in my mind."

He stopped you with a finger to the lips, rising so that you were both lying on your sides, facing each other. He wore his composure well, through long habit, but there was something wild and desperately cast in his eyes.

"And I'm free because of you. Don't you forget it."

This time, nothing interrupted the slide of his skin on yours, the crushing, breathless intimacy that knew no bounds. There was no artifice here, no subtle trick or sly gleam of eyes watching you beneath hooded lids.

Astarion kept your faces close together, watching every contortion of your features, drinking you in and opening himself to you entirely. He raised your leg onto his hip, still facing you as his fingers slipped down, down, between your bodies.

You gasped as he stroked over your folds, his mouth coming down on your throat. His fangs sunk in, only breaking the surface, right at the moment his fingers breached you. Crying out, you clung to him, drawing answering moans as he rocked against you.

His lips brushed yours, un-coordinated, wet against the sides of your mouth. You tasted the slight metallic tinge of your own blood, lost in heady ecstasy as the heat of his exhalation mingled with yours, rough and uneven. He nudged you when your head tilted back, keeping your eyes on him.

His fingers were now coated with the dewiness of your arousal, and he dragged them up between you again, surprising you with just how wet he had made you in such a short time. You watched, breath hitching, as he slid them over his own hardened flesh, tracing pearly fluid down from the tip, coating himself.

You turned to lie on your back, but firm fingers grasped your hip, holding you in place. He tugged your leg further up on his waist, earning a soft gasp. You're more accessible to him like this, more vulnerable.

"Darling, I can't wait any - "

"Astarion, please."

Your soft plea triggered an almost animalistic movement from him, as he ground upwards, pushing against your entrance. You were almost sobbing now, clutching at him, begging him. At his mercy, you bit your lip hard when he worked himself in, sliding into the tight grasp of your heat.

He was trembling, you realise, ecstasy and agony in equal measure, chasing each other across his face as he pushed deeper, burying himself within you, staying with you. Even with the intensity of what you were both feeling, he kept you in place, the hand that had stroked you now holding your thigh over him.

He began a measured pace that quickly devolved to one of instinct, slowing down so that you clenched around him, speeding up until your back arched, swallowing your disjointed whispers as he watched you come undone, and in doing so, came apart himself.

In this golden time, you understood that you have never been more completely aware of another, of the muscle that rippled under alabaster skin, of the rapidly cooling sweat on his chest, of the way his scent wound around you, the way his body moved against and inside yours. He had taken your blood into himself, so many times, consumed you in so many different ways, and yet, this was wholly new.

Astarion wasn't teasing you endlessly. He wasn't bringing you to the brink, and releasing you, which was his specialty, as you're fully aware. He's throwing himself headlong into the passion of a true union, every thrust bringing you both closer to the dazzling precipice.

He was reckless in his lovemaking, somehow striking that balance between base urgency and shattering tenderness. You could see the building euphoria when your eyes met his, the knowledge that this moment belonged to both of you, untainted, spun out in indestructible threads that bound you to each other.

You were close. You let him know, through the pale crescents your nails left on his shoulder and side, through the way your voice rose, the way your hardened nipples pushed into him as your whole body stiffened and prepared for mind-numbing, white-hot pleasure, the way you took his fingers into your mouth with hedonistic abandon.

He drank it all in, tracking every movement, every glimmering bead of sweat, every minute crease between your brows. Fighting back years of conditioning, he held you impossibly closer, your body a shield against the memory of every meaningless, sordid encounter.

Your eyes dragged open, tears glistening where they had gathered at the corners, slipping down across the bridge of your nose, bringing the sight of his face to sudden clarity.

You let him see it, all of it; the moment your climax crashed like a wave over every sense, that most secret of faces. You let him see that he was the only one who could bring you to this place, this endless horizon that curved across your vision like a shard of jacinth.

Astarion was now gasping endearments. They fell from his lips in a litany, one declaration melding into another. You held onto him as your own mind slowly cleared, senses thrumming with the aftermath of the pleasure he had brought you.

He was close.

You surrendered complete control to him, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hips lifted from the bedroll in fitful abandon, his teeth sinking into your shoulder and releasing.

"My ... my sweet, I'm - ah - you're so - don't know what you - "

At any other time, seeing Astarion, with his mastery of seductive words that bordered on legendary, in this barely coherent state, would have been cause for wonder indeed. As with all else, however, you took things as they were, treasured them.

Here, with you, he didn't have to be that. Here, he needed no flowery phrases and practiced gestures. Here, he was yours, in wiry strength and hidden fragility, in biting humour and those rare moments of stark realism, when he did his best to protect you from a world who's cruelty he had experienced all too many times.

When he finally reached his peak, lips drawn  back from teeth, brow furrowed in supreme pleasure, tendons standing out on his neck as a series of guttural sounds escaped him, you smoothed your hands up and down his back, bringing him slowly back to you.

You pressed soft kisses across his nose, along his jawline, his body giving one last shudder as your lips ghosted over his ear and you nuzzled into his hair. Regaining focus, his gaze fixed on your face, a slow, radiant smile gathered, a stray ray of sunshine burning through overcast skies.

Something bubbled up in his chest, overflowed into the almost non-existent space between your bodies. A peal of laughter, so bright, so free of pain, lancing through you like the keen point of an arrow, the barbs lodging somewhere deep in your chest.

You could listen to him laugh like this forever.

He finally released you, rolling over onto his back, that same giddy smile refusing to diminish. One of his arms extended, drawing you close so that your head now rested on his chest, your shoulders encased in the solid curve of his arm.

"My love, my light, that was - "

His chest heaved again, and his head moved from side to side in cheerful disbelief. You couldn't help the grin that broke across your own countenance.

"Careful, Astarion. You sound happier than the first time you drank from me."

"But this is better! This is - "

His enthusiasm cut off, faster than words escaped him. Something choked him, held the rest of sentence prisoner until he took a heavy breath, released it. The catch in his voice added strength to your grip on him.

"This is perfect. This is ... everything I want it to be."

You remained silent, not trusting your own voice now. When he spoke again, it was so soft that you almost missed the words.

"Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me. Never for this."

Later, as the outside intruded once again into the sanctity of your tent, when the rustle of the wind in the trees, the crack of new firewood given up to the hungry flames of the campfire and the distant song of nocturnal birds echoed back to you, you placed your hand over where his heart should beat.

It had been somewhat disconcerting, the first time you'd felt the lack of that steady rhythm beneath your fingertips. Now, however, you felt something entirely different.

This was no empty void, no echoing palace of yesterday's torment. Astarion had come so much further than that. He was here, beside you, of his own free will. There was no such thing as true emptiness, not in a life as rich as this one, that of a man who had given up so much to walk, just once more, in the sun.

No. This space where vitality should make itself known was threaded through with so many scars, but from that barren landscape, verdant new growth came, tended carefully. You could see how it stole over him, and you, in every shared touch, every wound bandaged, every battle fought side by side, every new delight you found in each other.

It came like a thief, robed in night, and laughed as it took the title of queen, enthroning itself in your hearts. It had taken up the sceptre, usurped your earthly kingdom and banished all notion of loneliness.

Such was the nature of love, and so it would remain, until that final red sunrise came to claim you both.

@tattoo-of-a-bird Finally got the courage to write this one.

[yridenergyridenergy]

The decision to end the live performance of Kamuy with a deafening static noise and utter darkness, numbing two of our senses, only for a blinding light to reveal that Kyo, who poured his heart out for nine minutes about his self-sacrifice, vanished in thin air.

Genius. Wow.

At times, the warmth and The scent of a peaceful death

[codecicle-archive]

we as a fandom are drawing jay ferin TOO PRETTY. make her fucking mid

I AM ALWAYS FUCKING SAYING THIS!! She should be gross and sweaty and off-putting, constantly covered in grease from inventions and smelling like a mix of oil, sea salt, and fire. give that woman acne and pimples from irritated skin, since they can't shower often and she's always covered in grime that gets into her pores. you have GOT to make her mid, you have GOT to make her "unattractive". be more powerful than the council. destroy them with your mind and also body hair on characters

[aleksandra-czudzak]

when I smelled a rhubarb scent - watercolor on paper - Aleksandra Czudżak

[morninkim]

Power Rangers: Prime Suspects - Bowen

Ankash the Phoenix Knight

same as ever, story stuff under the cut!!

Ever since Udonna first established Root Core, Clare has fought threats from Repulsa forces, Dark Magic users, anyone wishing to invade the last bastion of Good Magic on Earth. None so persistent as Ankash the Phoenix Knight, lifelong loyal servant of the Master. Ankash wields the Knight Saber, sword of his late mentor, Koragg, and transforms using a mysterious claw-like morpher infused with his Dark Magic. On orders from his Master, who wants to claim their power for himself to overthrow Rita's rule, he now targets this mysterious new Green and Pink Ranger pair. Intent on killing three Rangers with one blade, he backs them into a corner and forces them to seek refuge at Root Core, knowing that the Gatekeeper would never turn away someone in need. What he didn't count on, though, was these strangers' knowledge of another world. One where his life took a much different turn. A turn that may not be out of reach for him, if he just accepts the hand reached out to him.

[itissadbutitsmy-artblog]

and you grow up in a society where the police can smell your emotions and you do something you shouldnt have done so you frantically cover yourself in perfume and rub yourself in fragrant leaves and hope to any globs you like that that's working because you don't know what folks can smell in your bones

[crimeronan]

this is a little contrived But luz is just going to like. randomly pass out a couple of hours after this hunter guy came. and she wont wake up. and vee Immediately recognizes the taste of magic on her. and she raises Hell.

and she traces his steps. and somehow, someway, the portal is left a crack open. so now eberwolf, amity, steve, and any willing guard member have to fight off this Fucking Basilisk whos about to super murder slaughter raine darius and hunter. Fun Drama/Trauma for everyone.

I LOVE CONTRIVED EXCUSES FOR CHARACTERS TO GO FULL MURDER MODE.

ESPECIALLY in this case. vee up to this point has been like wow! i hope i never see the isles again for as long as i live. love the human realm, love being a human in it, i would straight-up eat a cyanide pill before i let anyone take me back there. fuck the demon realm actually!!

and then she has luz. and everything she thought she knew about luz was wrong. and LUZ should ALSO never go back to the demon realm. or be touched by anything in it ever again. or have anything to do with magic ever again.

vee having spent So Long getting to know this girl and being her big sister and helping her navigate the human realm and watching her slowly pick up the pieces of her life.... vee loving luz SO MUCHHH.

and then hunter shows up. and Does Something To Her. and vee is going to lose her if she doesn't find out what's wrong.

vee bursting through the portal like HELLOOOO BOILING ISLES!!! 💕💕💕 IT IS I!! 😁 TERROR NIGHTMARE HELLSCAPE EVIL OF THE DEEP!! 😜 I'M GONNA SHOW YOU WHY YOU SHOULD HAVE LEFT! 👏 US! 👏 EXTINCT!!!! 🥳😇😂🤪🤭😎🤠

[immortalmrwavell]

Bull

(Original story posted August 10th 2021) Minor Edits and Corrections!

Eric couldn’t help but stare as he watched a huge hairy bear of a man pass by him. All his life he’d wanted to look like that. Big and manly with impressive muscles and body hair from head to toe. Yet he felt like he was cursed to look like a skinny twink. It’s not that he thought he wasn’t good looking or anything. He pulled off the boyish twink look incredibly well and had been hit on by tons of other gay men in the past. But despite that something just never felt right. Like deep down he couldn’t help feeling as though this wasn’t who he was.

He sighed, watching the bearish brute strode away. He then looked down at his own smooth and skinny form. Eric hung his head in silence for a moment, looking down into the lake he was sitting beside. “Maybe one day...” Eric mumbled to himself while kicking his feet in the water slightly. He’d tried for years to get bigger by going to the gym and eating better but his body hardly ever changed not to mention he hadn’t ever been to grow body hair to save his life. Who was he kidding? He was never gonna look like that guy.

Once he’d finished mopping around, Eric got up and headed into the public restroom to relieve himself. It was a single person restroom so he was able to lock it from the outside door.

Once he’d finished up and washed his hands, Eric was about to leave when he noticed something he hadn’t seen when he walked in. On the back of the exit door to the restroom hung a red speedo. Eric could’ve sworn it wasn’t there when he’d locked the door earlier and yet there it was now. Out of curiosity he grabbed the speedo to take a look.

Upon closer examination, he realised that the speedo felt slightly damp, like someone had been sweating in them. He pulled the speedo up to his nose and was greeted by a powerful musky smell that only a real man could produce. a scent so strong and potent it could hypnotise even the straightest of men.

Despite the desire to dig his nose back into the fabric, Eric found himself mesmerised by the letters on the crotch area of the speedo that spelled out the word “BULL” the word repeated over and over in his mind as the speedo got a grip on him. Before he knew it, Eric found himself pulling the speedo over his head in a way that allowed the crotch to engulf his nose before starting to remove his clothes. Kicking off his shoes and socks, throwing off his t-shirt and pulling down his shorts and underwear all while hugging on the overpowering smell. Then once he was nude, as if on auto pilot, Eric reluctantly pulled the Speedo away from his face and yanked on as fast as he could. Quickly securing it around his crotch and backside even if it was a tad bit loose.

Suddenly, Eric’s body began to heat up. Slowly but surely he started to grow larger. His legs bulked up into thick trunks as his feet grew sizes upon sizes bigger. His chest and abdomen grew larger and thicker as strong abs and pecs began to take form. His shoulders blew-up into thick masses as his biceps and triceps started to bulge with newfound power while his hands grew larger and fatter. The speedo began to fit Eric perfectly as his ass grew thick and juicy with muscle. On the other hand his cock extended from a 5 inch hard to a 9 inch, becoming thicker and thicker while his balls grew fatter and fuller.

As Eric’s face began to slightly reshape itself, his hair receded into a much shorter cut. This was swiftly followed by a mass of body hair beginning to grow across his body leaving him with hairy buff legs, hairy forearms, a furry stomach and a beautiful pelt of hair spread across his chest. Eric also gained a larger bush above his cock while his plump butt gained a generous layer of hair. Last but certainly not least, Eric’s face started to itch as hair began to poke through forming stubble which swiftly grew into a beard. One that swiftly grew thicker and thicker until he looked like the perfect hairy muscle daddy.

Eric slowly came out of whatever trance he was in, looking down at his new and improved body before letting out a scream that now sounded more like a deep roar with his new voice. Eric was in total shock but despite that he couldn’t help but feel extremely horny as he looked into the mirror above the sink to see what looked to still be himself but transformed into the complete daddy he’d always wished he was.

He wasted no time feeling up every inch of his new body before whipping out his new massive cock that had been straining the speedo. Eric wrapped a large hand around his thick new daddy dick and began pumping it enthusiastically. Moaning in a deep baritone as he did. “Oh fuuuuuuck yeeah I’m such a fuuckin daddy hunk!” He proclaimed to himself while rubbing his chest hair before he flexed his free arm in the mirror. “Ooooooh yeeeeaaahh FUCK!!” He gripped his dick harder as he jerked off furiously, feeling the intense pleasure build up. “I’m such a fucking DADDY!” He roared! “I’m such a… FU-FUCKING… **BULL!**” And with that final word a fountain of cum came rushing from Eric’s cock. Splattering the mirror and himself with ridiculous amounts of it as he drained his new bull balls completely.

Eric must’ve spent at least another 20 minutes locked in the restroom checking himself out before he finally decided to head out. As he stood at the shore of the lake, only in the speedo after leaving his old clothes behind, he couldn’t help but feel happy knowing that he now had that body that he felt comfortable in.

‘Hope whoever goes into that restroom next doesn’t mind the mess I left in there’ Eric thought to himself with a small chuckle.

[omegai]

Magic Scent

[pt: magic scent]

a xenoscent flag for any dynamic whos scent is magic.

[chunkecheeks]

people swear the tower of terror has no specific smell to it like they think it's just hydraulic fluid but brother as someone who had to sniff sonny eclipse's fumes for multiple hours a day for 8 months and also rode spaceship earth like 5 times a week that is NOT hydraulic fluid smell

i've also heard it claimed that it's mechanical oil but the smell is specifically in the lobby and in the hallway scene so if that's not a pumped in smell idk what it is. it smells like perfumed mustiness it's absolutely delicious but no one has ever recreated this accurately for a candle or anything

[flutterytickles]

taking death out of the equation and just thinking of her as the green witch, i really like the idea of r/io being allergic to perfume

or, at least, some perfumes...

natural scents aren't a problem, but i think the harsh, man-made chemicals used in certain fragrances might be enough to set her off

for instance, the cheap, drugstore ones that always smell of straight alcohol - i imagine those bother her especially! it's the really artificial smell, i think

[mamamoon92]

🖤✨

[melabea]

Blood, Melancholy, & Wet Grass Scented Sampi

(pt: Blood, Melancholy, & Wet Grass Scented Sampi /end pt)

(ids: 2 rectangular flags with 7 equally-sized horizontal lines. colors in order from top to bottom are dark brown, brown, dull brown, tan, pale green, light green, and dark green. in the center of the first flag is a grey-green blood stain symbol outlined in tan. /end ids)

(ids: 2 rectangular flags with 7 equally-sized horizontal lines. colors in order from top to bottom are dark brown, grey, light blue, pale blue, light purple, grey-purple, and dark blue. in the center of the first flag is a black-purple cherry symbol outlined in white. /end ids)

Blood, Melancholy, & Wet Grass Scented Sampi Flags

Cherry, Magic, Pink, & Stardust Scented Onu/Omenu Flags

symbols from here (link) & here (link)!

for cam!

tagging; @radiomogai, @thecoffeecrew404, @omegarchive, @misceverchive

[woveninyournerves]

Current read by Raechel Henderson and I am so into this! Glad I got to finally check it out and highly recommend this and her book The Natural Home Wheel of the Year as well. Will be checking out her other books asap.

Image description: the cover of a beige book against a blush cloth. The title reads The Scent of Lemon & Rosemary: Working Domestic Magick with Hestia by Raechel Henderson and features a black pentagram, yellow lemon with a green leaf and green sprig of rosemary. The font is in black and green.