#olfactory families

[a-perfume-lover]

Understanding Perfume Families: A Beginner's Guide (eBook)

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What are Perfume Families and Why Should I Care?

Perfume families, also known as fragrance families and olfactory families, are perfume categories based on a fragrance’s most prominent scents.

Knowing how to categorize your fragrances will help you to more easily shop for perfumes you’ll love, spend less time looking for a perfume you’ll love, and prevent you from wearing the wrong perfume at the wrong time.

By knowing a perfume’s olfactory family, you’ll know which perfume family smells best on you, which family you like the best, and which family to wear according to season.

If you have a fragrance that smells great on you, learning which perfume family it belongs to will help you find more perfumes that will smell great on you.

Weather Affects My Perfume’s Smell?

Yes, it does. Have you ever bought a new glorious-smelling perfume for a summer holiday and received loads of compliments, but those compliments stopped coming when you wore the same perfume in autumn? It’s because you wore a perfume that belonged to a fragrance family designed for warm-weather use.

Are You Easily Data-Overwhelmed?

Perfume-family classification is a complex topic. Its complexity is enhanced by the fact that professional perfumers often disagree on which family to place a fragrance. Just to make it more confusing, there are not only families, but subfamilies and sub-subfamilies and more.

Keep It Simple!

Breaking such a complex topic into a fast easy read will give you a solid foundation that can be built upon and expanded. For hobbyists who only want to know the basics, “Understanding Perfume Families: A Beginner’s Guide” is all you need. For those of you who want to expand your knowledge, “Understanding Perfume Families: A Beginner’s Guide” will give you a strong base to build on.

[blujayonthewing]

last summer after going to my childhood home for the very last time I came home and ordered a single-note honeysuckle perfume in a fit of... I don't know exactly. Big Feelings. and the PROBLEM is that it smells extremely nice, and it pairs really well with 'Fireflies', which is a blend meant to invoke being outdoors on a summer evening, but I can't actually wear them because it is also, essentially, Potion Of Extremely Specific Psychic Damage

[kkujo]

last night i had a mix of tinnitus and sleep deprivation induced auditory hallucinations which was basically just like. literal microphone feedback. and i think it was triggered by me testing my microphone yesterday bc the feedback was awful but yeah i was lying awake and all i could hear was extremely loud microphone feedback in my brain i'm so glad it's over 😭

[permanentbottombunk]

I have this small green slinky and dude let me tell you I have been chewing on this thing like that is it's job seriously chew on a slinky this is the most fun I have had in years

[reasonsforhope]

"Tilia is a vest-wearing conservation dog that the 444-acre [Mequon] nature preserve relies on for vital conservation and restoration work.

The dog’s responsibilities include sniffing out invasive and endangered species in the prairies, forests, and wetlands of Mequon.

Conservation dogs have become more commonplace in wildlife organizations, tapping into their astonishing scent-detecting abilities.

“Dogs in general already have up to 200 million olfactory sensors,” Cory Gritzmacher, the director of operations at the nature preserve, told Wisconsin Life.

Humans, on the other hand, have about 5 million.

“[Dogs are] already set up and designed for scent detection,” Gritzmacher added. “It’s really just finding a dog that’s motivated, that wants to do it on a regular basis and is excited to do it.”

Tilia was the pup for the job.

One of her main roles is to detect wild parsnip, an invasive species that staff removes once it is found on the property.

Compared to humans, Tilia can find parsnip in its first year, while it’s still close to the ground and camouflaged by other plants. This is vital, since parsnip will start to spread rapidly by the time it reaches its second season in the preserve. 

Studies show that the estimated damage caused by invasive species has cost the United States around $120 billion annually, as it impacts agriculture, recreational industries, and wildlife management. 

By catching invasive species that take hold of local flora and fauna early, Tilia achieves something no humans can.

“The best trained volunteers or staff in the world won’t even be able to find what a canine can,” Gritzmacher said. “That’s the pretty impressive part of it. And who doesn’t want to go to work with a dog?” ...

Tilia began training as a puppy, and now nearly seven years old, she’s a pro at scent detection — which all started with some treats hidden in cardboard boxes...

“As she continues to hit on the correct scent, then she gets rewarded. So, she’s going to get paid again. We do our work, we get paid. She does her work, she gets paid.”

Tilia can also spot Blue-Spotted and Easter Tiger Salamanders, which are endangered in the area. Her other scents include Wood Turtle and Garlic Mustard.

Of course, her workload remains balanced with time off. Her official owner is the director of Mequon Nature Preserve, who is happy to embrace her as the family dog when she’s not out sniffing.

But Gritzmacher, who trains and works alongside Tilia, adores her, not only for her companionship, but for the miracles she is able to work as an asset to Wisconsin’s conservationists.

“Canines are going to start to play a huge role in the conservation field just because of their amazing detection skills,” Gritzmacher said, “especially when resources are limited, staff is limited and you have to search potentially thousands of acres or miles.”

In fact, Tilia was joined by a partner in crime a few years ago: Timber, another chocolate lab who is actually the offspring of Tilia’s sister.

By following in her pawprints, Timber’s “powerful nose will be a key tool” in the preserve’s “land restoration efforts,” according to its website.

“For years, scientists have tried to replicate the power and efficiency of the canine nose,” Mequon Nature Preserve adds on a webpage for Tilia and Timber.

“The results keep coming back the same: The canine nose is second to none. Coupled with an insatiable desire to work and serve, Tilia and Timber help us find things humans often can’t.”"

-via GoodGoodGood, December 2, 2024

[godihatethiswebsite]

Tethered Bonds

✽ Poly 141 x f!reader (Omegaverse AU)

A lucky stroke of fate led you right into the arms of your alpha soulmates. But is it everything you dreamed it would be or just the continuation of a nightmare?

Main Masterlist ✽ Ao3

✽ Part One - A twisted fate

I'm gonna be honest: this came to me in a tired, period induced haze and I have no idea what the hell I'm doing but the bunnies would not let me stop until I finished it. Was supposed to be a oneshot... until it wasn't XD Hoping this is just gonna be a short little pet project on the side. Lemme know if I missed any triggers!

Trigger warnings: SA (not by the 141), biting, claiming, angst, depression, self harm

[Edit 7/16/24: updated relationship tags]

The parking lot was a certified mess to navigate, a veritable winter hellscape with the continual snowfall keeping the pavement slick and churning around spinning wheels to create a thick dirty slush. Packed cars fought for spaces towards the front of the store, wanting to avoid the headache of trudging through sloppy sleet, heavy carts overflowing with expensive gifts and last minute groceries.

Parents loaded up their trunks for their upcoming banquets. Little ones chattered in youthful exuberance about brightly wrapped packages and a jolly fat man. Festively dressed bell ringers exhausted their muscles for the cause of charity, offering joyous smiles to those passing by gracious enough to offer a token. Even six inches of heavy wet snowfall were not enough to deter shoppers from their mood. Coupled with the obnoxiously boisterous music that met you at the door it was almost impossible not to get swept up in the infectious holiday spirit.

Almost.

You hadn’t bothered joining the chaotic dominance for prime parking, opting to choose the very last row towards the street instead of wasting precious minutes yelling profanities out the window to an uppity pack trying to steal your spot. The harsh wind burned your face and nipped at your skin, pulling the woolen scarf tighter around your neck and up over your bitten nose. You avoided eye contact with the chipper lady at the front, not wanting to feel guilty for not donating when you barely had enough to scrape by as it is.

Normally you avoided venturing out this close to Christmas unless absolutely necessary. Holidays haven't meant much to you in recent years since your parent’s untimely passing and you hated the constant reminder of ‘the most wonderful time of the year’. Sure, there were still your other two alpha fathers, but they’d opted for someplace warmer in their age and visitation was difficult with your busy work schedule. Your younger brother wasn’t almost worth mentioning with his new prissy family somewhere up north. That bridge was burned the day he called you a harlot.

Needless to say, you’d become something of a grinch.

You’d been miserably sick the week prior and ate through most of your stockpile of hoarded food, not enough remaining to keep blowing off shopping with the bustling crowds. If you wanted to last past New Years then a trip into town was unavoidable.

The intense blast of hot air from the overhead heaters thawed your aching bones upon entering the store, shaking the accumulated dampness from your head and shoulders but leaving the thick cloth covering the lower half of your face. It would help you in your endeavors to get through the aisles expediently without irritating your delicate omega olfactory senses. 

It got harder to distinguish the source of fragrances this time of year, when folk spent their days burrowed away from the bitter cold surrounded by the comforts of the season. A chilled glass of rich subtly spiced eggnog, smokey cedar logs crackling in the hearth, sweet woodsy pine wreaths and garlands wrapped around thick oak banisters, trees decorated with peppermint candy canes and dried strings of popcorn. 

Gingerbread, mulled wine, cinnamon, orange, clove; a bountiful buffet of complementary aromas. Your own father had smelled of cranberry sauce once upon a time (it made the holidays that much harder when he was gone). And with so many people filling the space - even with the heating fans working overtime trying to filter out most of it - it could get difficult trying to figure out whether a boozy scent originated from a lovely beta or the soaked rum cake she was placing in her cart.

Honestly if it weren't for the outrageous delivery fees you would've had the groceries dropped off instead of enduring the aggressive pheromones floating through the air. Alas this was one of your few exceptions to your hermit lifestyle.

Truthfully, it wasn’t just December that had you hesitant to leave the sanctuary of your meager apartment. 

For the past few years, you’d been battling a severe case of agoraphobia, something you’d been working on wholeheartedly with a therapist since the accident that made you so. It had crippled you to the point that even daring to have the blinds open on your windows sent you spiraling into that dark abyss of cackling distress, panic consuming every last ounce of breath until you found yourself minutes later curled up on the bathroom floor, lightheaded and queasy.

Nausea was a constant in your life, along with the cold sweat that had you sleeping on a towel just to keep from ruining your bedsheets. Lethargy was embedded in your muscle fibers. A searing ache in your throat. The painful deep tugging in your chest an ever present reminder of the uphill battle you fought each time you opened your crusty sleep filled eyes. Depression was your best friend, curled around you in a false sense of comfort where it was easier to slip into a maladaptive headspace than face the truth of your harsh reality.

But despite the physical manifestations of your trauma, you’d made good strides so far with your weekly sessions. It had been a difficult road getting to this point and your therapist praised you for your dedication to not letting it hinder the life you had ahead. You weren’t sure what it looked like, but you tried all the same.

Like a hound that heard you calling, that ominous presence that filled you with dread came crawling into the back of your skull, mittened hand discreetly itching at the wool around your neck and scratching the irritated skin beneath. Forcing yourself to take a few deep breaths until it settled, you grabbed one of the many baskets available and began the trek weaving down the rows of food.

Christmas was about a week away and the mobs were out in full force. Thankfully the items you were on the hunt for were not the same ingredients needed by everyone else. There was the occasional overlap of things like milk, eggs, bread, etc. But there was no call for a full sized turkey or spiraled ham; no sweet potato casserole or chocolate yule log to bake. Just some bologna, shredded cheese, a couple packs of ramen, and a few other household things here you were running low on. 

Maybe for the hell of it you’d stop in the frozen section and find yourself a mini cheesecake to splurge on for when you inevitably opened that bottle of fireball sitting on the shelf come next Tuesday, forced to listen to your upstairs neighbors' horrendous attempts at Christmas caroling.

Halfway through the store, your browsing was interrupted by an alluring scent swirling somewhere nearby.

Citrusy. Acidic. Sweet. Airy. 

Your scarf had slipped off your face when you bent down to grab something off the lower racks, exposing you to the freshly baked goods across the way. Someone nearby was carrying a batch of lemon cupcakes, your mouth watering as the scent invaded your tastebuds and forced a pleasant hum from the back of your throat. 

Something curled in your chest like a finger beckoning forward, begging for an acknowledgement that had you standing at rapt attention. Your body seemed to move on its own, head swiveling like a rickety chair, scanning the nearby vicinity - for what, you couldn’t say. The inner omega that prowled just underneath the surface vibrated restlessly, choking back a needy whine while your eyes swept over the closest individuals. Something primal had called out to you, throwing your hormones out of whack, piecing together invisible clues so obviously standing right in front of you. 

The summery concoction felt so out of place in the harsh winter months, swirling and nagging at the base of your spine, urgent and loud and taking up too much space until you felt like you could drown in its tang–

Your muscles locked in place, gaze affixed to something - someone - at the end of the aisle. 

A big someone. An alpha.

And he was massive.

There was a natural musculature that came with the inherited alpha genetics. Beta’s could grow to a similar size if they worked at it, but there was a casual arrogance that was impossible to mistake with the former designation. Even still, this man towered over most others in the vicinity, lesser alphas giving a wide berth to the intimidating figure currently staring down at his phone screen. Thick grey hoodie pulled up over his head, a black military jacket layered over top. Dark wash jeans led down to warm boots hefty enough to stomp a man’s skull in. Messy dark blonde hair peeked out from up top, a black surgical mask covering the lower half of his face from view.

He couldn’t have given off any more ‘don’t fuck with me’ vibes if he had it tattooed across his forehead. There was nothing sinister about his bearing per se - one hand casually shoved into a coat pocket as he leaned back against one of the dessert displays - but there was a coiled alertness that gave you the distinct impression he was more aware of his surroundings than he led you to believe.

One thing was for certain: you were never more sure of anything in your less than perfect life that that man was your scent match.

Your lungs expanded in your chest to drink in more of his scent. Palms turned sweaty, hair on the back of your neck prickled, the weight of the basket on your arm all but forgotten. Your throat parched at the prospect of getting to shove your face against his scent gland and taste the delectable lemony goodness right off his skin. 

People went lifetimes never meeting their perfect scent matches. The odds of you ever encountering one wasn’t even worth holding out hope for. Over seven billion people on the planet and you had to win an epic fucking lottery to get as lucky as you just did. Bonding ceremonies like that made the news for how rare it was. You’d never even dreamed of this happening, making peace with the idea that mates only existed in fairytale romance.

You just about dropped your groceries when he was joined shortly thereafter by another gorgeous male, slightly shorter by a few inches and not as broadly built. Rich dark skin, effortlessly cool street style, short black curls, and a dazzling pearly white smile.

This new alpha didn’t seem to flinch in the presence of the other, lemon cupcake glancing up only briefly to acknowledge the newcomer whose toasted coconut aroma barrelled right into you, colliding like a runaway freight at an unguarded intersection. Gulping down mouthfuls of air like a fish heaving on dry land, your head spun wildly at the nutty intrusion; smokey yet sweet, conjuring images of a warm evening bonfire on a lush sandy beach. 

Hope bloomed in your chest something fierce and bright. Your omega preened in unbridled delight, pawing at the surface, eager to get her hands on the two beautiful specimens whose every atom screamed ‘mine’. Tears stung behind your eyes, a mixture of relief and elation, vibrant like bursting fireworks and twinkling Christmas lights. 

What would you say to them? Do you approach them first? Should you wait for them to scent you back or try to pretend you didn’t smell them yet? What did their voices sound like? You could see their lips moving, even if the ones’ were hidden behind a surgical mask. Tenor, baritone, rumbly bass? What were their names? Where did they live? Was this really happening right now?! 

Something twisted and gnarled sunk its claws into your subconscious, rearing its ugly head in protest at the newfound revelation, but for the first time in years you didn’t fucking care. 

They were here. Your alphas. Your pack. Your salvation.

“Babes!” 

Decadent chocolate floated past you, a small apology from her lips as the omega brushed by, bumping her arm against yours on the way to her intended destination. You’d hardly noticed, too caught up in your own inner monologue and girlish fantasies to barely manage a quiet ‘no worries’.

For a split second, your eyes met coconut’s beautiful luscious brown, breath catching in your throat as the object of your desire finally seemed to take note of your existence. It was like gazing into the threads of the universe, pulling taut between you in a cosmic symphony that brought your stardust back together from whence it scattered at the dawn of time. 

A perfect part of an incomplete whole.

…until those shimmering umber pools shifted left, aimed at the bubbly figure headed right towards them. 

Huh?

Confusion as both alphas turned their full undivided attention to the dark haired omega, holding out a box of something for them to inspect and smiling when it met their approval, an affectionate pat on the head from lemon for her success that left her beaming with pride. 

That’s when you noticed it - peeking out underneath the collar of her elegant peacoat. A faint white crescent moon shaped scar, standing out against her lightly tanned skin, a matching one a little farther down. 

Mating bites. A bonded omega. 

And your scent matched alphas were gazing lovingly at her as if she’d hung the stars. 

She was theirs. They’d already found their mate. 

And it wasn’t you.

Something died in your chest, a broken scream torn silent from your soul as it condensed into a burning black hole. Agony unlike anything you’ve ever known, piercing your fragile heart and burrowing like a plague into your veins until the sickness had spread to every corner of your being. Your omega clawed at her eyes, willing the visions in front of you to vanish like a twisted mirage, begging for a bullet to erase the image of coconut planting a soft forehead kiss before wrapping an arm around her waist and turning to leave. 

A dejected whine ripped from your throat as you took an unconscious step forward, hand vaguely outreached, instincts screaming to chase after them and make them choose you instead of her. But you did no such thing. You watched helplessly as the alphas who were supposedly destined for you by the stars turned their backs on your pathetic existence.

This couldn't be happening. Why was this happening?! Please turn around!!!

With the same circulating air that had guided their scents to you, the wind in the store shifted.

Lemon cupcake went ramrod straight, whipping his head around so fast you were worried it’d go flying off his shoulders. It was uncanny the way he immediately zeroed in on your poor trembling figure, standing in the middle of a crowded aisle, uncaring to the concerned glances of the other shoppers as he unknowingly ruined your life. 

Recognition sparked deep behind voided irises before going completely neutral, steeling his expression but remaining unmoving as stone. It’s like the two of you were locked into place, orbiting each other by an invisible tether, watery eyes begging the ones staring back to please… please not leave you behind.

Coconut halted in his own step at the end of the aisle, sniffing the air for a moment with a furrowed brow, glancing over his shoulder at lemon, asking him something too far away to overhear. You can only assume the contents of his reply, the slightest shift of his mask the only tell he’d responded before coconut turned to face you as well.

This time garnered more of a physical reaction than the last, jaw dropping while staring just as unabashedly as his alpha companion. Eyes swept from head to toe, cataloging every minute detail the same as you’d done to them. Pupils dilated exponentially, nostrils flaring taking in the crisp pear scent you exuded, memorizing every facet and swallowing it down like a ravenous predator.

What a sight you must’ve made; eyes red and puffy from the tears that now flowed freely from suffering instead of the earlier jubilation, meek and sheepish and falling apart at the seams. What a piss poor impression to give the men fated to be your mates.

There was a brief moment where coconut seemed to match your initial energy, a flash of something saccharine and longing, only for it to collapse under the grueling weight of our fatalistic reality. There was an internal struggle in the crease of his brow, the downturned expression souring behind clenched teeth and tight fists. But more than that there was pity - pity at how you couldn’t have met sooner. Pity that you’d had to discover them like this, a woman on their arm and bite marks on her neck. Pity that they hadn’t had faith that they would be the lucky ones in a packed society.

You can make out a question on the chocolate omega’s perfectly pouty lips, trying to put the jigsaw together as to why her alphas were suddenly acting this way while glancing between the three of you.

Ignoring her, coconut takes a half step forward; you take two steps back. There’s an apology in your watery eyes, a hushed ‘merry christmas’ too strained for their ears. Your heart’s beating too loudly, your breath comes too shallow. You don’t even realize you’re sucking in heaving sobs until a gentle hand of a passerby lands on your shoulder, snapping you out of the chaos of your psyche. 

You can’t take it any more; the shame, the embarrassment, the gut wrenching defeat. 

The basket falls to the floor with a loud clatter, startling the people nearby who let out shrieks and gasps of surprise as the spilled contents inside break open and shatter. Eggs crack, milk pours onto the mud trekked tile, a fragile jar of strawberry jam splatters across someones pristine boots with an indignant shout.

A smooth tenor voice calls out ‘WAIT’, but you’ve already rounded the corner, barreling through the crowds of happy smiles and ecstatic giggles, too torn up inside to feel anything but desolation at the future so cruelly ripped from your fingers.

The crisp frigid air smacks the breath from your lungs, winter boots slapping on the slushy frozen ground. The squeal of brakes accompanies you as you sprint uncaringly through the bustling traffic, horns honking and voices shouting, muffled and far away as you drown in the whirlwind of your mind. It’s a miracle you’re not hit by a car, an even bigger one that you make it back to your own unscathed.

Slamming the car door shut, you smack your padded palms repeatedly against the steering wheel, banshee wailing your vocal cords raw in despair. The dark presence creeps in once more, a mocking chill down your spine as it caresses your fractured soul. The nausea comes back full force, the tugging on your chest, the burning in your throat. There’s a desperation as you tear your fitted mittens off, reaching under the woolen scarf and incessantly scratching at the irritated skin until it shreds under your nails. The pain doesn't register through your emotional torment, blocking out the inner voice until it inevitably slinks back into the shadows after its bitter lick of victory.

Panting hard, your head slumps back against the cloth headrest, stewing in the silence of misery and defeat, the distant joyful bells of Christmas the only company you have on this cold winter’s night.

It takes a few tries to fit the key in your deadbolt, blinking through tears now frozen to your eyelashes. There’s no recollection of how you even made it home in your brittle mental state. For all you knew were twelve civilians flattened like pancakes on the side of the road and a warrant out for your arrest. 

Wouldn’t that be nice? A break from having to pay bills and function like an adult.

Stumbling through the door, the sparse furnishings of your minimal studio glare at you, flipping them off as you shuck the damp outer layers from your frail form. A mess to be cleaned up another day.  

It wasn't just the rejection of your fated mates you were facing. It was the knowledge that your entire future had been ripped away and no amount of hot glue could piece it back together. Today’s revelation was the final nail in the coffin for the rest of your life.

The bathroom lights flickered with dying bulbs, something that had been on your shopping list tonight and was now being swept off the floor along with everything else you’d left behind. It didn’t stop you from locating the first aid kit under your sink, setting it on the ceramic counter and pulling out the well loved supplies inside.

You avoided staring at your gaunt reflection, not wanting to see the person looking back as you tugged at the thick scarf looped around your neck. The constricting material tore away with ease, falling into a discarded heap on the floor, revealing the torn mottled flesh hidden underneath. 

Your own set of crescent shaped scars - where the line of your neck connected to the meat of your shoulder, long since healed over and faded with time. The area surrounding it was now swollen and inflamed, raised angry red lines dotted with scrapes like a bad case of road rash, bloody from where you'd furiously clawed at your neck on the car ride home. The only time the fucker in your head shuts up - the connection tethering you emotionally gone silent once he got tired of feeling physical pain across the bond.

Memories came unbidden. Flashes of that fateful encounter coming home late from work, dragged into a sequestered shadowy overhang a few meters down the darkened alleyway. A feral alpha hopped up on something illegal, tearing into your clothes and violating the virginal space between your thighs. The muffled cries as he overpowered you, panting through a rut with his greasy fingers shoved down your throat to silence you, gagging on the musky taste. The scream as his teeth pierced your flesh, the bond snapping taut and stealing your future from you without a thought to your own wishes.

He’d fucked you ragged that night, waking up with your cheek pressed into the damp pavement and his arm slung around your waist from hours earlier. There’d been no one to turn to, no one who would care. By law now you were his - no matter the means it had been done. 

A mating bite was binding. 

You’d crawled away from him, your outfit in tatters hanging loosely over your bruised form, dried blood stuck to your neck and a stabbing pain at your apex. You felt dirty and used and wanted nothing more than to strip the skin from your bones. The unconscious form of the– your alpha flopped prone on his back, crimson stains around his mouth and his flaccid cock still half out of his trousers. The pinpricks on his arm told the tale of a junkie. It’s possible he hadn’t even been fully aware of the crime he’d committed. 

You didn’t stick around to find out.

But you paid for that decision harshly, opting for a life not attached to your abuser, at a steep tormented cost. Bonds weren’t meant to be strained for so long. It starts to cause negative impacts on the pair, the omega bearing the worst of the brunt. Nausea, sweating, pain, dizziness, fatigue. The chronic illnesses you endured day in and day out would stay with you for the rest of your life. So long as he was up and walking free - alive somewhere on the other side of the country - his greasy claws strumming your senses through the connection tethering you eternally.

Only a perfect scent match could override the original bite and free you from the oppressive bonds that shackled you to an invisible alpha - the last remaining hope you had at any semblance of happiness.

And you just lost it.

>> ✿ Next ✿ >>

[truevedicastrology]

Unveiling the Enigma of Mars

🚀Mars, the celestial orchestrator of how you magnetize individuals and the manner in which you resonate. It delves into the intricate essence you exude and the perceptions people harbor about you. This cosmic force also embodies masculine energy, offering insights into the archetype of men you may allure.

🌌Mars in the 1st house unravels your allure externally, where your energy becomes swiftly discernible. You're characterized by responsiveness and a tenacious self-advocacy. Occasionally perceived as impulsive or irate, your sanctuary lies in self-indulgence, physical exertion, and athletic pursuits. The gravitational pull extends to men with athletic prowess or those with a self-centric aesthetic.

🌺Mars in the 2nd house manifests allure through olfactory allure, skin aesthetics, or indulgence in epicurean pleasures. Passion for culinary arts and a penchant for opulence mark your identity. Your charm attracts men of affluence or those generously disposed.

🏖️Mars in the 3rd house articulates allure through eloquence and the written word. Passion resonates in your speech, and the written realm becomes a source of profound joy. A proclivity for literature and related pursuits is evident. The enticement extends to multitasking, loquacious men, possibly educators or wordsmiths.

🏡Mars in the 4th house unveils allure in moments of domestic comfort, adorned in unassuming attire. Emotional energy becomes an irresistible magnet. Mars, discreetly nestled here, shares passion exclusively with intimate circles or family. Attraction extends to nurturing, emotionally expressive men, perhaps with a hint of moodiness.

🎨Mars in the 5th house radiates allure during dynamic activities, invoking attractiveness in motion. Passion is channeled into hobbies, joy, and a perpetual youthful spirit. The magnetic pull is towards confident, charismatic, and playful individuals.

🌈Mars in the 6th house renders allure through physique and an organized, health-conscious lifestyle. The zenith of well-being is achieved through proactive endeavors, organization, and animal companionship. Attraction is directed towards industrious, meticulous men, potentially involved in animal care or fitness training.

🌙Mars in the 7th house allures through aesthetic grace, fastidiousness, and a pursuit of justice. The epitome of well-being lies in harmonious relationships and aesthetic refinement. Attraction extends to men who embody beauty, meticulous grooming, and charm.

🔮Mars in the 8th house projects allure through intimate and sexual charisma, intertwined with an aura of power. Stability and emotional equilibrium define your zenith. This allure thrives in secrecy and spiritual pursuits, attracting individuals exuding intense energy, possessiveness, and depth.

🌐Mars in the 9th house emanates allure through vivacity, intellect, and captivating narratives. The ardor for exploration, diverse cultures, and distant realms is palpable. Attraction aligns with optimistic, adventurous men, including educators, professors, or those hailing from diverse cultures.

🏰Mars in the 10th house showcases allure in the public eye, accentuating tenacity and success. Energy converges into achievements and reputation, possibly bordering on work-centric tendencies. Attraction is drawn towards older, stable, and successful men, echoing qualities reminiscent of paternal figures.

📱Mars in the 11th house unfolds allure in the digital realm, exuding uniqueness that captivates social networks. The energy is invested in friendships, aspirations, and dreams. Attraction encompasses peculiar, distinctive men, thriving either in group dynamics or solitude, immersed in individual pursuits.

💖Mars in the 12th house mystically radiates allure, captivating through an enigmatic aura. Appreciation transcends the physical, delving into the spiritual and ethereal facets. Energy is channeled into artistic expressions, resonating with the profound. Attraction unfolds towards artistic, spiritual, emotionally profound individuals, potentially from coastal regions, with a transcendent connection that transcends verbal communication.

Follow our Facebook page Mage Magic Touch for personal consultations https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61565561190268

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Some Perfumery Vocabulary

Absolute - An extraction from a concrete using alcohol. The essential oil of scented flowers and other aromatic plant parts in its purest and most concentrated form. It is extremely expensive. A few important oils used in an absolute form are: geranium, lavender, lily, and rose.

Accord - A combination of a number of different scents which blend together to produce a new fragrance.

Agrestic - "Of the countryside"; odours of heather, forest depths, and the meadow.

Aldehydes - Aromatic chemicals isolated for the first time in the 19th century, but that also occur naturally. Certain aldehydes provide an increased diffusiveness, sparkle, and lift to perfumes, most famously in Chanel No. 5.

Almondy - Bittersweet, soft, and nutty scent.

Amber - An accord in perfumery that is supposed to recall the qualities of ambergris. It is often constructed with labdanum, Tolu balsam, or Peru balsam. Often an accord in Oriental perfumes.

Ambergris - A highly prized perfume ingredient consisting of the oxidized excretion from a sperm whale. It is rarely used in its natural form in perfumery because of its rarity, exorbitant cost, and concerns about sourcing ambergris from live whales rather than from shore-found ambergris. It’s said to have an earthy, sweet, tobacco, and pleasantly animalic scent. It primarily works to bring out other notes in perfumery rather than to impart a particular scent on its own.

Ambrein - The primary scented molecule in ambergris, isolated and used in perfumery. It’s warm, sweet, vanillic, and ambery, with facets of spice and tobacco.

Animalic - Describes fragrances with animal ingredients in natural or synthetic form, including civet, castoreum, musk, or ambergris. The voluptuous, erotic, and sometimes disturbing quality of animalic perfumes can register in an olfactory way, as something “dirty” or animal-smelling, or as a feeling, a mood, or a quality. Sometimes, it can be both.

Aromatic - Having a strong or distinctive smell.

B—E

Balance - A combination of different fragrance notes so adjusted in proportion to one another that none of the individual notes is more prominent than any of the others.

Balsamic - The resin from the bark of trees and shrubs (Peru, Tolu, styrax) that have a rich vanilla scent. Balsamic is a term used to describe perfumes with the soft, ambery aspects these resins impart.

Benzoin - A sweet, balsamic resin used in incense and as a base note in perfume for its vanillic scent and fixative properties. Also known as styrax because it comes from the bark of the styrax tree.

Bergamot - The essential oil from the peel of the nonedible Citrus aurantium fruit that looks like a small orange. Its sweetish, mellow lemony scent is a crucial top note in perfumery.

Calone - A synthetic “marine” note that is supposed to evoke the freshness of the ocean. It has a slight watermelon facet.

Camphoraceous - Describes a fresh, clean, medical fragrance.

Caramel - Sweet, rich, creamy, buttery scent.

Cardamom - An intensely aromatic, sweet spice from the ginger family, in the form of a pod filled with seeds.

Carnation - A smoky, sweet, and clove-like scent, the latter facet due to Eugenol, the primary component of clove.

Cassis - (or black currant bud) A sharp, fruity, almost cat-urine-like scented perfume note.

Cistus - (or Labdanum) A resin from the rockrose bush, traditionally gathered from goats’ beards as they fed on the plant. Labdanum is said to be the note closest to the scent of ambergris. Creamy, soft, vanillic.

Citrus - Fresh, light fragrance characteristic of citrus fruits, but also imitated synthetically.

Civet - In classical perfumery, the cream harvested from the anal gland of the mongoose-like civet animal, often described as cat like. Fecal-smelling when undiluted, civet “rounds” out other notes when used judiciously. Famous as an overdosed note in Guerlain’s Jicky (1889), it is considered one of the first abstract modern scents. Civet is primarily in synthetic form now.

Clove - An aromatic spice similar to cinnamon, but less sweet. Its primary component is Eugenol.

Coniferous - The fragrance note of pine, spruce, juniper and similar such trees, often used in men's fragrances.

Diffusive - A perfume whose fragrance quickly becomes apparent in the air surrounding the wearer.

Dry - The aromatic effect of perfume ingredients such as woods and mosses in contrast to sweet and warm fragrances.

Earthy - The subtle fragrance impression of earth or earth-mould which is found in certain essential oils such as vetiver and patchouli.

Equine - Notes of hay and leather.

F—M

Floral - The general fragrance of flowers.

Fruity - Citrus, berries, tropical, and other non-citrus fruit scents.

Fungal - Molds, yeast, and mushroom scents.

Green - General fragrance of grasses and green plant parts.

Harmony - A pleasing combination of fragrance notes.

Hayfield notes - Usually based on coumarin, which have an odour of new-mown hay.

Heavy - Denotes a fragrance in which the least volatile ingredients, such as mossy or animalic ones, are dominant, giving a very strong effect. Such fragrances are mostly used in chypre and oriental-type perfumes.

Herbaceous - The characteristic general fragrance of herbs and herbal medicines. Sage, rosemary and lavender are examples.

Honey - Used as an ingredient in early Arab perfumes and appears in later European ones (e.g., Honey Water). In modern perfumery a substance providing the sweet aromatic effect of honey and known as Honey (or Miel) is manufactured synthetically.

Indolic - The disquieting, ripe, animalic, and almost excremental facet of scents.

Leather - A perfume accord and category of perfume constructed from various notes, including birch tar, styrax, castoreum, and a variety of synthetic notes.

Light - Delicate, clean, and fresh-laundry scent.

Marine - Iodized scent.

Mellow - Soothing and calming scent.

Metallic - A fragrance reminiscent of metal, providing a clean, cool effect. Metallic notes are used in perfumes to assist in promoting an effect, not as main fragrances.

Minty - A fragrance reminiscent of mint, e.g., peppermint or spearmint. Such fragances are usually used to provide a special, fresh effect in a top note.

Mossy - The general odour of oils obtained from mosses and lichens.

Musk - Produced by the musk deer and excreted by the male during mating season. Musk deer were killed almost to extinction for their valuable musk glands, which were dried, and whose musk “seeds” were removed and steeped in alcohol to create tinctures for perfume. The scent of real musk is warm, with depth and a dark animalic aroma. Many synthetics now can mimic musk scent, but one of the most superior musk synthetics, nitro-musks, which were in Chanel No. 5 and countless other vintages, has been banned due to toxicity concerns. Musk can also be substituted with plant ingredients including ambrette seed and angelica.

Musty - Damp, earthy, or stale odor.

N—W

Narcotic - Exceptionally strong and heavy fragrances obtained from some flowers (e.g. jasmine and tuberose) and animalic ingredients, which need to be used with careful discretion in a perfume.

Ozonic - A perfume accord that attempts to create the smell of fresh air after a thunderstorm.

Peppery - Odour of pepper.

Powdery - Soft and clean scent.

Rich - Fragrances that have numerous layers, notes, and accords in all stages (top, mid, base), creating a multifaceted feel.

Rounded - The overall smoothness and fullness of a fragrance.

Sharp - A strong scent.

Smoky - The slight smell of smoke created in a perfume by certain oils such as Birch Tar Oil. It is used in men's fragrances to provide a leathery effect.

Spicy - Describes in general the distinctive fragrance of essential oils which have been obtained from spices.

Sweet - A sweet and rather sugar-like fragrance such as vanilla.

Tobacco - Fragrances resembling cured tobaccos, which are particularly popular in masculine toiletries.

Wintergreen - Has a very powerful and fresh, medicinal odour.

Woody - Fragrances reminiscent of wood. These fragrances are provided by wood oils, such as cedar, by essential oils from other plants having a wood-like aroma, such as patchouli, and by synthetics.

Sources: Perfume: The Art and Craft of Fragrance by Karen Gilbert ⚜ The Perfume Handbook by Nigel Groom ⚜ Scent & Subversion by Barbara Herman ⚜ Scent: A Natural History of Fragrance by Elise Vernon Pearlstine ⚜ Introduction to Perfumery by Tony Curtis & David G. Williams ⚜ The Big Book of Perfume

More: Word Lists ⚜ References ⚜ Describing Scent ⚜ Fragrance Notes & Levels

[bestanimal]

Round 2 - Chordata - Chondrichthyes

(Sources - 1, 2, 3, 4)

Chondrichthyes is a class of jawed fish, commonly called “cartilaginous fish” due to their skeletons composed mainly of cartilage, making them distinct from all other vertebrates. They are comprised of the superorders Selachimorpha (“Sharks”), Batoidea (“Rays”), and Holocephalimorpha (“Chimaeras”).

Chondrichthyans breath through gills but lack opercula (gill coverings) and swim bladders. They have paired fins, paired nares (nostrils), and placoid (tooth-shaped) scales (except for electric rays, which have loose, soft skin). These placoid scales, also called dermal denticles, provide protection and streamlining, giving the animal’s skin a sandpaper-y feel. All chondrichthyans breathe through five to seven pairs of gills, depending on the species. As a general rule, pelagic species usually must keep swimming to keep oxygenated water moving through their gills, while demersal species can actively pump water in through their spiracles (a small hole or slit behind each eye) and out through their gills. Most larger, pelagic species no longer have spiracles. Chondrichthyans have many sensory organs to perceive the world around them. Their nostrils are attached to powerful olfactory organs. Around their face are a network of electroreceptors called Ampullae of Lorenzini, which allow them to sense electrical fields. Their lateral line has modified epithelial cells which sense motion, vibration, and pressure in the water around them. However, their sound-detecting apparatus has limited range and is typically more powerful at lower frequencies. Some species have electricity-producing organs which can be used for defense and predation. Chondrichthyans have a diverse array of shapes and sizes, ranging from the 10 cm (3.9 in) long, electric Finless Sleeper Ray (Temera hardwickii) to the over 10 m (33 ft) long Whale Shark (Rhincodon typus). All species are carnivores: some predatory, some ambush-hunters, and some filter-feeders. At least one species is omnivorous. Chondrichthyans have internal fertilization and most species give live birth, while some lay eggs. There is no parental care after birth, though some chondrichthyans do guard their eggs.

Chondrichthyans are considered to have evolved from Acanthodians, which appear from the Early Silurian. The first sharks began to evolve in the Devonian Period, though, while often claimed to be relatively unchanged, modern forms did not start appearing until the Early Jurassic.

Propaganda under the cut:

Mentioned briefly above, the Bonnethead Shark (Sphyrna tiburo), a small species of hammerhead, is the only shark known to be omnivorous. While it feeds on crustaceans, molluscs, and small fish, it also ingests large amounts of seagrass, which has been found to make up around 62% of gut content mass.

Also mentioned briefly above, Electric Rays (order Torpediniformes) are known for being capable of producing an electric discharge, ranging from 8 to 220 volts, depending on species, used to stun prey and for defense.

There are over 500 different species of sharks, and only a dozen could be considered dangerous to humans. That being said, of those 12, most do not seem to like the taste of human flesh, and bites are usually accidental or exploratory.

Many pelagic chondrichthyans occasionally breach, leaping out of the water. This can be done for hunting purposes, as a mating ritual, to shake off parasites, or even just for fun!

Today, all species of Sawfish (family Pristidae) are critically endangered. However, they were relatively common in the Cretaceous, where they were likely a common food source for Spinosaurus.

(Confusingly, Sawfish are a type of ray while Sawsharks (order Pristiophoriformes) are a type of shark. Sawsharks live in the deep sea and are rarely seen, while sawfish live in coastal and brackish waters.)

Kitefin Sharks (family Dalatiidae) have bioluminescent organs which glow blue in the dark

Chimaeras have a strange pair of teeth in their lower jaw which look like rodent incisors, giving them the common names “ratfish” or “rabbitfish.”

Great White Sharks (Carcharodon carcharias) are regularly hunted by orcas, and when one is confronted by an orca it will generally flee and not return to that area for up to a year.

Manta Rays (genus Mobula) are incredibly smart. They were the first “fish” in the world to pass the “mirror test” (ie show self-awareness by recognizing themselves in a mirror rather than seeing the reflected image as another manta ray). They also have highly-developed long-term memory, form friendships, and play with each other by blowing bubbles and breaching out of the water.

[canisalbus]

saw your modern au piece where you tagged 'scenthound' and it just made me think about vasco in the original story after machete dies and how he'll never smell and take comfort in whatever unique smell machete had ever again and whoops I made myself sad

O- oh...

To be honest I don't know if Vasco's sense of smell is significantly better than a non-scenthound dog's (I mean maybe a little? Since scenthounds tend to have large nasal cavities and more room for olfactory receptors than a dog with shorter or narrower snout? But it's not really relevant in this context).

The way I see it, dog people's sense of smell is more acute than ours, but not as overpowered as that of an actual dog. Scents are more meaningful to them. For example, when you spend enough time with someone, your scents start to blend together, and smelling like your partner/family is an important part of bonding. I'd imagine that it plays into grieving process too. Even if you held on to the belongings of the deceased, their specific scent will eventually fade away from them as well.

I've talked about how the dogs perceive smells here and here.

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Consider this a part 2 of Can't Escape the Nightmares cuz I keep getting ideas for this story 🙃

Pairing(s): Jasper Hale x Human!Reader, platonic!Rosalie Hale x Human!Reader

Warnings: mentions of past assault, mentions of past rape, noncon themes discussed, reader is jasper's mate, platonic!rosaliexreader, human!reader, nightmares, trauma, ptsd, dark content, mention of blood, brief mention of murder/death, hurt&comfort, ft the cullen fam, yes i'd like to sign up to be protected by rosalie ✋🏼, and my depressive ass could certainly use a man like jasper lol

Words: 1253

Summary: It was hard for you to be outside. Not after what happened. And with the Cullen house surrounded by a sea of towering trees. . . It was difficult for you to even step onto the wrap around porch. Everything about the outside reminded you of that day in the woods.

They'd smelled your blood from miles away, noticing that it grew closer and closer until Rosalie was upon the doorstep with you dangling in her arms. Your eyes were open, though void of expression; merely staring at these near angelic looking family with gold hued eyes.

Your injuries were nothing major, yet your blood yanked at their olfactory senses.

And Jasper was helpless when, eyes being engulfed by jet black.

The expression in Rosalie's expression though kept him at bay.

"Get him out of here. He can't handle it." Rosalie snaps, her hold on you growing tighter.

Intently watching Jasper's every move, you see the rigidity of his frame and the back and forth sawing motion of his jaw. He must have ground his teeth to oblivion, at least that's what you thought.

Never imagining the true inner turmoil that was engulfing his every sensibility. Jasper's perpetually cold skin suddenly felt like it was on fire. A monster scratched at his mental door. A monster that wanted to taste every inch of your skin before sinking his straight, razor teeth into your delicate paper-like flesh.

"Jazz, snap out of it." Edward motions for Emmett to keep him back. His hiss is low as not to scare you further. Knowing all the horrors you had just gone through

The fog that reduced his head to a warm flush lifts enough for him to finally notice the state you were in.

Large splotches of red and rich purple are smattered across the entirety of your arms and legs, with a giant one blooming on your jaw. His stomach recoils at your lack of clothes. Connecting the visual clues together to realize what had happened and why Rosalie was dyed in a mess of different blood types that didn't belong to you.

You were already broken.

Suddenly that monster was silent, it too watching with baited breath as Rosalie carries you up the staircase and to Carlisle's office. The older blonde vampire quick and on her heels.

Jasper's monster seemed to take that moment to decide something that was against its very nature: it would protect you, guard you and keep you.

There will always be that hunger in him for your blood. But no longer would he be ruled by it.

When exhaustion finally swept over you, Jasper peeks his head into Carlisle's office. Rosalie sat on the floor in front of the couch you were asleep on.

She's in front of him in a flash, barring him entrance with a fatal snarl.

He dare not mess with this gold mama bear.

It was hard for you to be outside. Not after what happened. And with the Cullen house surrounded by a sea of towering trees. . . It was difficult for you to even step onto the wrap around porch. Everything about the outside reminded you of-

"They can't hurt you again." Edward mentions behind you as you stood in the front door, hand quaking above the doorknob.

That didn't relive the nausea in your stomach. Your eyes shut tight and Edward winces when your mind immediately goes to the day that you were assaulted.

When you catch yourself you immediately apologize and take a step back. "S-sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"No, don't apologize." He's firm on this and finally you turn around. Surprisingly, the Cullens had understood the trauma you had gone through more than you would have thought. Every one of them had gone through a horrifying event much like your own. Rosalie's was almost identical to your's and possibly the very reason why she had saved you and killed those monsters who abducted you. And has protected you since then. She reminded you of a mother hen.

When Jasper first showed interest in you, Rosalie actually became aggressive toward him; telling him that you weren't ready for such a relationship. That you needed to heal more.

Jasper never stepped over any boundaries. He never came close to it. He waited. Helped you whenever you asked for it. Approached you tentatively until you told him that he didn't have to tiptoe around you. Many months were required before this. In the meantime you allowed Rosalie (and to a smaller extent, Alice and Esme) to tend to you and repair your fragmented body.

The only time he used his power on you without your permission was when you were asleep and suffering from your all too frequent nightmares.

"If you want, I can go outside with you. Maybe we can take a short walk around the house." He softly offers when you glance back at the door.

They were all so kind to you, never asking when you'd be ready to leave their house. It never came up. In fact you had the suspicion that Rosalie would insist on you living with them from now on. An unofficial part of the Cullen family.

You knew their secret. Living there, it didn't take long to discover that they were not human. From their perfect pale skin, to their golden eyes, there was something different about them. The way Edward was able to anticipate your every needs or how even being in the same room with Jasper had your anxiety simmering down. Even Alice displayed odd signs that you would have normally passed off as some kind of mental illness when she'd stare off into the distance. You now knew it was her getting a glimpse of the future.

"Thank you, but maybe today isn't the day. . ." You force your trembling lips to quirk up into a tentative smile though it could not fool Edward who could hear the inner turmoil in your mind. He never pushed.

He nods and lets you amble back upstairs to safety. The Cullens required no sleep so their bedrooms were essentially just for decoration. Rosalie and Emmett happily gave up their room so that you could seek out privacy when you were too overstimulated to be in their company. They even bought a tv just to put in the room for you. You didn't know what you did in your life to deserve them.

But before you go to your own designated room, you stop in front of Jasper's with a tentative hand raised to knock on his door. You were always nervous when asking him to hang out with you while Rosalie was gone. You'd heard Rosalie whisper to Emmett one night about you being Jasper's 'mate'. She must have thought you were fast asleep but you heard them discuss the possibility of a relationship between you and the other blonde Hale.

It made you self conscious now when you were near him. You'd known that he was. . . attracted to you.

You jump when his bedroom door opens to reveal his figure. "H-Hi."

His smile is always so sweet and even shy. "Hello."

"Um," Your fingers twist the hem of your shirt anxiously. " well, Rosalie is gone. I was wondering if you wanted to hang out for a little bit. . . Esme bought me a new dvd. We can watch it?"

Adoring the way his eyes crinkle when his smile broadens, you take a step back to allow Jasper to exit his room and close the door behind him. "Lead the way, ma'am." Your chest squeezes when that southern drawl of his comes out.

Trusting anyone again wasn't an easy journey. But being cradled by the Cullen family was bound to heal some wounds.

And perhaps water the seed of love that had been planted in your heart by Jasper.

[mindmelter]

Owed and Owned

Angelo was peacefully sleeping when he woke up in the middle of the night with the most excruciating headache he had ever felt.

He grabbed his head and grunted in pain.

"Aaaaaarrwwhhhgh! Fuuuuucckkkkk!... There's something.... in my head.... it hurts! Get out! Get out! Get oooouuugghhh!!!"

Suddenly, Angelo's arms dropped limply to his sides, and his pained face quickly changed into a blank face in a fraction of a second, like a switch had been flipped off. With slow steps he walked to the door and opened it.

Waiting outside, with his usual nerdy demeanor, was none other than his distant cousin.

(A month later)

My cousin looks so peaceful, it even looks like he is sleeping, but for one to be sleeping, one needs to be awake first, and that is just not his case, not anymore.

Angelo had been the bad boy in my family since a young age, always getting in trouble or causing trouble; at 16, he joined a criminal gang; at 18, he was arrested for drug dealing; at 20, for getting into a bar fight. Now, at 21, nothing much had changed, he was still part of the gang, and he was still hotter than ever.

I was two years younger than him, and even though we were distant cousins and our interactions were almost nonexistent, I always had a secret crush on him. I couldn't help myself; I just had a thing for bad boys. I love the way they act so tough and fearless, like they're invincible and nothing can stop them.

I buried my face in Angelo's hairy armpit and took a long sniff; he just had the most wonderful smell under his armpits; it was powerful and primal, a musk that my olfactory epithelium was very much used by now.

I started licking them clean, making sure my tongue would drag slowly against his armpit's hair and I could taste every single bit of him.

While I feasted on my hot cousin's armpits, I saw a tiny alien humanoid sticking his head out of his ear, the tiny alien's head was no bigger than a bean.

"Good morning, Zul. Did you sleep well?" I asked.

"Yes I did, I see you're already having breakfast," Angelo responded with his eyes still closed. His voice sounded sleepy, like he was talking while dreaming.

"And how about you? Have you had your breakfast yet?" I asked.

"Not yet, was just about to when I noticed there was some stimulation coming from Angelo's armpits. I knew it was you."

"Well, don't let me get in the way, go back in there and feast on my dumb cousin's brain."

Zul feeds on brains, but because of his small size, he only takes small bits of it every day. It's been a month since I helped him get inside Angelo's body, and now there's only 40% of brain matter left.

The alien nodded his head and crawled back inside my cousin's head. Almost Immediately, I started to see the signs of his feeding on my cousin's body, like his muscles tensing and his biceps flexing. His head started rolling from one side to another as he let out deep grunts, looking like he was in a nightmare, he might actually be in one, but I was living my dream.

I buried my face back into his armpits as I knew what was going to happen next: Every time the alien fed, it would make Angelo's body release a lot of sweat. And I was starting to feel the effects, or better, to taste it.

"Hmmmm... he tastes soooo good," Angelo moaned.

"He sure does," I replied, switching from armpits.

I pulled off his tank top and shorts; Angelo's cock was big and thick but was flaccid, I gave it a few strokes, but I knew it was useless, his body couldn't respond to stimulus anymore without the alien in control. Luckily, the alien had kindly programmed Angelo's body in case I wanted him to be hard while he was busy feeding.

I pinched both of Angelo's nipples at the same time, and just like magic, his cock started to harden to a 9,5 inches huge shaft, throbbing full of life. As I took a few licks, I looked at him and noticed he was staring back at me, a sign the alien was now in control.

"How much is left?" I asked, my tongue running against his sweaty balls.

"34%" Angelo responded.

"Wow, just remember that you need to get out of his body when you reach 10%, you need to leave enough for his body to obey commands."

"You don't have to worry about that, I'm already looking for another host."

I was in the middle of giving Angelo a blowjob when I heard a knocking. I sighed in frustration, who could that be? One of Angelo's many hookups? I thought I already got rid of all of them!

When I opened the door I was shocked to see a tall, fully tattooed hot stud. I was left standing at the door completely frozen, staring at the hot man in front of me like an idiot.

"Is Angelo home?" He finally asked, his tone was intimidating and cold.

"H-he's...he's not home right now," I lied, "Is there something you want me, ummm... to tell him when he's back?"

I think he didn't buy the lie because he gave me an even more menacing stare, a stare that almost made me cry and apologize for lying.

"Tell him to pay what he owes, I will be back in a week." He said out loud, making sure Angelo could hear him.

It was all he said as he walked away. When I closed the door, I finally sighed in relief; that guy was so scary but so freaking hot at the same time. I asked Zul to dig into Angelo's mind for any information about the guy, but Zul told me he couldn't find anything and that he probably already consumed that memory. I was disappointed in knowing that precious info was now alien poo, but I just went back to giving Angelo a blowjob. Eventually, I completely forgot about the whole thing.

A week later I came back from school to find Angelo sitting on a chair with a book covering his face.

I walked towards him and took the book out of his face, and I was shocked to see his face expression; his eyes were staring in opposite directions, his left eye was wider than the right one, and his mouth was agape with his tongue sticking out.

I was used to Angelo's blank face by now, but he never looked this... empty before. I knocked on his forehead like I was knocking on a door, and in a sense, I was. The sound that it made was hollow, which was expecting since there was now only 14% of his brain left. "Zul? Are you there?"

"No, I'm here." A deep baritone voice came from the corner of the room, scaring the shit out of me.

I recognized him, he was the hot guy who knocked on Angelo's door a week before, now wearing nothing but a white towel covering his lap. "Zul, this is such a wonderful host. Good job buddy." I praised.

"It's good to be in control of an entire brain again. I accessed this host's memories, and it looks like your cousin pissed off the leader of his gang by not paying for his drugs. So his gang leader sent this big and strong guy to teach him a lesson if he didn't comply."

I sat on the tattooed hunk's lap and started caressing his fit body, feeling his muscles and pecs. I then pressed my face against his armpits and took a sniff, he smelled clean, like he just got out of the shower. The thug then pulled me in for a gentle, yet dominating kiss. Pulling away from the kiss I grinned at him, "So, this gang leader... Is he hot?"

"Very much, after this host's brain is at 10%, I might go for his boss, that way I would have plenty of hosts available for me. Would you like to own an entire gang of hot brainless men?"

"Yes! I would!" I eagerly said, my eyes glowing with the image of a bunch of hot brainless criminals at my disposal.

"Then you have to deserve it first," He said, caressing my face gently, it was weird to see such an intimidating guy acting so soft. "Go to Angelo and activate him for me, I can't control him while I'm in another host, but before leaving him, I programmed what was left of him to respond to physical touch. Pinch his right nipple two times and then give his left a twist to the left."

I nodded and walked to Angelo, I gave his right nipple two pinches, and his left a rough twist to the right... or was the left? I decided to twist it to the right. Angelo suddenly—still with his mindless face and hanging tongue—pulled down his shorts and started jerking off his cock.

I then heard the thug across the room laughing. "That's the wrong command, you need to twist it to the left, not the right."

I looked at Angelo, mindlessly jerking off his now hard cock, and I did the command right this time, two pinches on the right, one twist to the left...

Suddenly, Angelo stopped jerking off and walked to his bed, getting on all fours and exposing his ass.

"I like this new command, is there more?"

"Yes there is, watch it," The thug stood up, making his white towel drop to the floor. My jaw dropped when I saw his massive cock, he was so much bigger than Angelo. With a grin planted on his face, he grabbed his shaft and swung it in my direction, "Would you be kind and do what you do best?"

I didn't have to be asked twice; I got on my knees in front of this hunk and took his huge member into my mouth. I felt his hand gently caressing my hair. "That's a good cocksucker, get this cock wet for your cousin's ass"

I slobbered on it even harder when he praised me, after a few minutes, he gently pushed me away. His big cock swung with each step he took towards Angelo, he gave his ass a hard slap and smirked at me as he aimed the tip of his cock at Angelo's entrance.

It was far from Angelo's first time, since Zul turned him into a host last month, I've been having my share of fun with Angelo's ass. But Angelo wasn't used to a big cock like that, it was so big that it easily could count as a first time.

Angelo gave no response, he just continued frozen on all fours with his eyes blank as drool soaked the sheets under him. That was until the thug buried everything inside with a single powerful thrust, and just like that—as if a switch had been turned—Angelo started to move back and forward, fucking himself on the massive member.

"I programmed him so that as long as he has a dick stuffing his ass, he will fuck himself non-stop. Pretty cool huh?" The thug proudly said with both his hands behind his head, exposing his hairy armpits to me. Zul knows how much I love them.

"Now enjoy the show while I feed on this dumb hunk." With a final wink, the thug froze with his hands behind his head and his face changed to the same mindless look Angelo had: eyes rolled back and tongue sticking out.

Angelo was still fucking himself non-stop, like a broken robot trapped on a loop. I hopped on the bed and sat on Angelo's sweaty back while I was facing the frozen thug. My weight sure made Angelo's job more difficult, but I didn't care, I knew he was strong enough.

I pressed my face in the thug's armpits and started worshiping them. Sometimes, he would let out a long grunt, and his muscles would flex, but after a while, it stopped.

Zul appeared inside the thug's mouth and sat on his tongue, the tiny humanoid alien was now holding a tiny bit of meat, eating it like a burger as he watched me worshiping his new home.

I owe this little guy everything.

[terranceholdsapencil]

"Run."

Human Nature/Family of blood [redraw]

Old one from last year under the cut 👍

"It's empty!"

"Wheres it gone?"

"You tell me"

"Oooh, I think the explanation might me youve been fooled by a simple olfactory misdirection. A little bit like ventriloquism of the nose. Its an elementary trick in certain parts of the galaxy. But it has got to be said, I dont like the look of that hydrokinometer. It seems to be indicating youve got energy feedback all the way through the retrostabilisers feeding bAck into the primary heat converters. oH! Schh. Cause if theres one thing you shouldnt have done, you shouldnt have let me press all those buttons.

BUt, in fairness, i will give you one word of advice.

RUN! :D

[tinydefector]

Hooray!!! Omg i’m so happy lol. I’m definitely going to be smiling for the rest of my day. I finally had time to think about it and how about a platonic familial scenario with mtmte magnus and the ambassador on break and casually chatting, fluff please. let me know if you need more details, and take your time <3

(i’ve been having data problems so hopefully this ask sends through 😅)

Out of the bag - human effects

I had so much fun writing this Buddee and I hope you like it!.

Word count 1.6k

Ultra Magnus x human reader

Fic Masterlist

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________________

The ambassador sat quietly working through files while on the desk, fingers pinching their temple as they re-read the text. A hot drink beside them as they worked. Ultra Magnus sat at the desk as he too worked. It would have been rather funny to look at, A large alien robot sitting at his desk working while his co-worker who was much smaller sat on the same desk on their own seat with a desk. They looked almost like they were a toy figure. 

They take a sip of their drink and roll their shoulders slightly. "Please tell me I don't have to fix another 15 files of Rodimus getting side tracked again and typing out random words like Chinchilla?" They mumble almost like a pray.

Ultra Magnus cycled a weary ex-vent, field rippling with long-suffering patience. "I'm afraid so, Ambassador. The captain seems...incapable of submitting forms in any semblance of proper order." He pinched the bridge of his olfactory sensor, nearly the same pose as them. an unmistakably human mannerism picked up from long acquaintance. "At this rate, reconciling his haphazard paperwork will occupy the majority of your work cycle."

Magnus observed the ambassador's flagging energy levels with mild concern. "Perhaps you should take a brief respite. Overexerting yourself serves no purpose - I can handle the captain's responsibilities for the time being."

His tone, while stern, held an undercurrent of genuine care. Despite their differences, he cared deeply for the ambassador; their well-being remained in everyone's best interests. 

"The schedules can wait. I suspect you've had enough excitement for one orn already." A hint of dryly amused. "I'll be alright Magnus, Just got a headache and sore. Really wasn't planning on dealing with reports, but it beats having to do holovids with Prowl, I want to strangle that mech some times." They reply leaning back in their seat, bringing their drink up and holding it in their hands as they close their eyes for a moment.

Prowl's combative nature makes diplomatic discourse a...trial, to say the least." He cycled another heavy ex-vent. "Though I must say, your own entanglements have proven equally...taxing, of late." Magnus leveled them with a pointed look, with a hint of mild disapproval.

"I trust you understand the risks involved, consorting so closely with the crew. Propriety and protocol exist for good reason - to maintain order and prevent compromising our mission." 

Yet beneath the stern admonishment, a thread of genuine concern shone through. "I only caution you to tread carefully, little one. The games played aboard this ship can be...treacherous, for those caught unawares."

His gaze softened marginally. "I would not see you come to harm, simply for wishing to find companionship in these trying times. Despite what you and others may think i do care about you" 

Embarrassment slowly works its way into their system as they look down as if they were a child who just got caught stealing something. "How.. how did you" they start not knowing how to continue talking. "Come now, Ambassador - did you truly think your...activities would escape my notice?" Magnus replied, a hint of wryness in tone.

He shook his helm slightly. "I may be strict, but I'm not blind. The signs were...quite evident.” Leaning back in his chair, Magnus fixed the ambassador with a measured look. "I'll not lecture you on proper conduct - Primus knows life aboard this ship is complicated enough as it is." Attempting to soothe their clear discomfort. "However, I must urge caution. Entanglements with subordinates."

They continue to look down for a moment processing his words. "I know, I wasn't planning on getting involved with anyone, it just sort of happened. Told Ratchet that it was to stay on the down low, and Ratchet had the same concern about risk, he wanted to make sure if something did happen with other bots outside of him and Drift that i had someone to trust if something happened. I was just worried that if you, Rodimus or Megatron found out. My job was gone" they mumble, they were filled with so much anxiety and panic over the situation only for the mech they feared the most about it to just say he knew. 

Magnus cycled a heavy vent. "I see. That...explains certain observations, I must admit." He rubbed a servo over his faceplate. "Ratchet and Drift, of all mechs. I confess, I had not anticipated that particular entanglement."

Fixing the ambassador with a level stare, Magnus continued, "However, you needn't fear repercussions from myself or the others." A hint of wryness entered his tone. " We've all been there, at one point or another." 

They let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you Magnus, and I'm making sure to look after myself. Woah just wasn't expecting to be having this conversation with you is all. You have no idea how much fear I had about you finding out about my um.. 'activities'. You bots aren't exactly subtle about your 'human fucker' content  " they state before slowly having another mouthful of their drink.

He nodded in acknowledgement. "I understand your concern. confess, even I am not entirely immune to the temptations that arise. However, I endeavor to maintain strict protocols."  Magnus continued solemnly, "I cannot - and will not - control the personal affairs of my crew. That is a burden I do not wish to bear."

A hint of wryness entered his tone. "Though I must admit, the antics of Megatron and Rodimus have certainly tested my patience on more than one occasion. They are both very fond of you"

“I had a feeling they were. Magnus you being tempted, now that's new to me, I'm sorry they are causing you trouble” they chuckle, smiling up at him, enjoying the banter.  

"Ratchet and Drift both know I'm not interested in a relationship, it's mainly just stress relief, and i think Sunstreaker just has a bjt of a kink for someone who isn't going to scratch his paint" they confirm, making him aware of yet another bot involved. Magnus's optics widened fractionally at the mention of Sunstreaker - another unexpected development in this tangled web. "I see. So Sunstreaker as well, hmm?"

”It would appear you...ambassador has been quite diligent in cultivating a support network aboard this ship." Fixing the human with a measured look, Magnus continued, "And you are certain this...arrangement suits you? Entanglements with the crew, regardless of intent, can prove...complicated."

The nod. “Yes, I'm content and want to keep this on the down low, I don't need it getting back to my superiors on earth, nor do I need Prowl making issues of it.” They explain. In truth they were very happy with the arrangement, and felt less guilty now that they were talking with Ultra Magnus over the situation. 

"I merely wish to ensure you are not inadvertently placing yourself in jeopardy, little one." Magnus paused, considering his next words carefully. "However, if this provides you the stress relief you require, then I shall refrain from further commentary." A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Though I must admit, I'm somewhat impressed by your...resilience, in the face of such formidable suitors."

It makes their face fluster as they look away from him quickly. “That's not funny and you know it” they huff under their breath only for him to let out a soft rumbled noise. Shaking his helm ruefully, the Autobot commander returned his attention to the ever-present datapads. "Very well. You have my discretion and, should you need, my counsel as well."

"They have all been good to me, very respectful and accommodating. They mainly have been dead quiet about involvement because of you actually." They hum. "Well technically you, Megatron and Rodimus. You three I do look up to alot, and your opinion means alot to me. I was just worried you would have me court martialled and shipped back to earth for fraternization "

Magnus's field rippled with a mix of surprise and begrudging respect. "I see." 

"While I cannot condone such...personal entanglements, I confess I am impressed by your discretion thus far. It speaks to a level of maturity and pragmatism I had not anticipated." Magnus met their gaze steadily. "You have proven yourself a valuable asset to this ship. I would not see that jeopardized, simply due to youthful indiscretions." 

With that now out of the way they sit there quietly before looking up at ultra Magnus from their spot sitting on the desk. "Could I have a hug, at the moment I can feel myself shaking from the fear and anxiety " they try to joke and make light of how afraid they were of him finding out. 

Magnus regarded the ambassador with a soft expression, field pulsing understanding. "Of course." He gently scooped them up, cradling their small frame against his chest in a rare display of tenderness. "There is no need to fear, Ambassador." His deep voice rumbled with reassurance as he lightly stroked their back.

They lean their head against his plating, relaxing against him.  "Thank you, you're a real one Magnus. No one will ever change that" Magnus rumbled softly, the vibration soothing against the ambassador's frame. "You are most welcome. I am merely doing what I believe is right."

He gently adjusted his hold, ensuring their comfort as they leaned into him. A rare, small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "You have earned my trust, Ambassador. That is no small feat."

With that, Magnus simply held the ambassador, allowing them the chance to find solace in the steadiness of his frame. And in truth he rather enjoyed holding them close. 

_______________

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[uncharismatic-fauna]

The Can-do Pelican Eel

The pelican eel, also known as the gulper eel (Eurypharynx pelecanoides), are the only known species of eel in the family Eurypharyngidae. They are found exclusively in the deeper parts of the water column, from depths of 500 up to to 3,000 m (1,600 to 9,800 ft), but are distributed throughout all the world's oceans.

The gulper eel is perhaps most famous for its unique body shape. Like many deep-sea fish, this species is highly adapted to its environment; maximum energy efficiency is the highest priority. To that end, the pelican eel has a large head, and a jaw estimated to be quarter of the total length of its body. The jaw is loosely hinged, meaning that gulper eels can open their mouths extremely wide. The rest of the eel, in contrast, is quite slender and long, about 0.75 m (2.5 ft) in length on average. Most individuals are black--so black, in fact, that they only reflect 0.5% of light; perfect for hiding from potential predators.

Although they look skinny, E. pelecanoides can expand their stomachs to hold prey much larger than themselves. Their primary prey consists of crustaceans and cephalopods, though they may feed opportunistically on other fish. Because it is so well camouflaged, it uses bioluminescent organs on the tip of its tail to attract prey. Gulper eels themselves are preyed upon by lancetfish and other larger deep-sea fish. To deter predators, they will gulp down a large amount of water; this stretches the loose skin around their head and throat, and inflates them to several times their usual size.

Because of their remote location, the breeding habits of gulper eels are relatively unknown. However, it is believed that smell plays a large part in attracting a mate, as pelican eels have highly developed olfactory organs. Like other eels, they're born as tiny, transparent larvae in a state known as the leptocephalus stage. At this stage, they do not have any red blood cells. Researchers aren't sure how long it takes gulper eels to become fully mature, or how long they live, but many believe that adults die shortly after mating.

Conservation status: The population size of E. pelecanoides has not been assessed, and thus the IUCN has not made a determination on its status. The greatest threat for this species is deep-sea trawling, which frequently brings up gulper eels as by-catch.

Photos/Video

Paul Caiger

Schmidt Ocean Institute

EV Nautilus Team (I highly recommend checking out their 2023 highlights reel!)

[anon-e-miss]

Storm's End

(I've been playing sims again now that my mods are behaving. Decided on a fresh mer play and this is what you get)

“Are ya sure this is the right place, Ori?” Jazz asked as they stepped offer the small ferry.

“Only one Damaxus,” Punch replied. “This ain’t what I expected.”

Lilleth sang their songs from the trees as oilgulls squawked overhead. Fishing boats lined the docks, the crews call out to each other. Mechanisms boat the fresh cyberfish right off the boats, despite the drizzle. There was a roar of laughter and then another. The mood was happy and light. It was nothing like the docks in Polyhex. Even when the sea was willing give up a net of cyberfish, no one but the desperate would dare eat anything dragged up from the murky, sewage filled waters. The sea around Damaxus was anything but murky and there was no stink of waste. As far as the optics could see, the ocean surrounding Damaxus was clear turquoise, and apparently brimming with life. It was nothing like the stories Punch had told, a smugglers haven, a wretched slum. Damaxus, to Jazz’s optics, looked like paradise.

“When were ya last here?” Ricochet asked. “Twenty vorns?”

“Even in twenty vorns,” Punch said. “A turn around like this... I’d call it a miracle if I believed in such things.”

“Auntie Dipole’s ‘round here somewhere?” Jazz asked.

“Mhm,” Punch replied. “Maybe she can explain all this. Port was so rough, Lockdown even gave up on it for Primus’ sake.”

They walked past Dipole twice before the spotted the wirey femme among the crowds of mechanisms going from boat to boat, selling their bounty. She hopped down from the bridge of a pretty yacht, surprising all three Polyhexians. Punch let out a happy whoop and hugged his old friend. Dipole looked like a strong breeze could blow her over but she always had. At the same time, she did not look worn but determined but bright and alive. She yacht she was serving as cook on was docked in Damaxus for repairs, having run into trouble with pirates. Jazz blanched at the thought of her near death but his auntie seemed unfazed. She had ordered the captain to sail for Damaxus, even though he had wanted to sail for Polyhex, to sail under the safety of her canons. The yacht’s owner had sided with Dipole and as they had raced into the seas near the island, a great squall had come up and all but blown them into port where the pirates had crashed into the rocks and been scuttled.

“When I saw the red sky with dawn, I knew we’d be safe,” Dipole declared. “Red sky against this light-cycle, that’s why all the boats have come. A storm is coming.”

“Storms always comes to Damaxus,” Punch replied.

“It’s different now,” Dipole replied. “No hurricane has reached land in a decavorn, at least. Not a boat that’s minded the skies had been lost.”

“Seems too good to be true,” Punch declared, frowning.

“Sure, but I��m not going to turn up my olfactory ridge to a gift from the gods,” Dipole replied.

“Ya know a place where we can stay for a few ‘cycles while we get our bearings?” Jazz asked.

“Oh sure, there’s the inn,” Dipole said.

“Damaxus has an inn?” Punch asked, sounding dubious.

“Lovely Praxian family runs it,” Dipole explained. “They’ve got a little pub too. There’s no ordering anything, you eat whatever they have mind to serve that cycle. It’s always good.”

“Where’s the inn?” Jazz asked.

“Lockdown’s old perch,” Dipole replied. “At some point they bought the land and built their place right up from the beach. Its a pretty little place.”

“Surprised he ain’t come to take it back,” Jazz said.

“Lockdown hasn’t had much luck with Damaxus since the sea changed her spark,” Dipole replied. “If any of his ilk had given them trouble, I haven’t heard. I did hear Swerve got caught snooping in their wine cellar. Had him running scared, whatever they did.”

“H’uh,” Jazz murmured.

“H’uh indeed,” Punch replied.

“Oh, I see Tripwire, that’s their grandbitty, he’ll know if they have rooms,” Dipole exclaimed and she waved to a first tier youngling who was walking down the dock with a basket full of fish. “Tripwire! Overhear, Dearspark.”

“Hello Ms Dipole,” Tripwire greeted the femme with a dip of his doorwings. Though he had the telltale doorwings of a Praxian, his other features were distinctly Polyhexian, namely his audial horns and the shape of his mouth. He dipped his doorwings to Jazz and his kin. “Hello, Sirs.”

“Tripwire, do you by chance know if there are rooms in the inn available?” Dipole asked. “My friends have come from away.”

“Oh yes,” Tripwire said. “Two or three. It’s good you’ve come before the storm.”

“We got the last ferry o’ the orn,” Jazz declared. “Now we know why it’s the last.”

“You’ll be save on the island,” Tripwire assured them. “The rain’s going to pick up any klik, follow me to the inn.”

“I can carry that basket for ya,” Ricochet offered, miraculously coming out of his ennui for a moment.

“Thank you, Sir,” Tripwire said. “Grandgeni sent me to get more cyberfish. Lots of sailors in from the wet looking for a hot meal, even if they aren’t staying at the inn.”

“We ain’t sailors but I think he’s gonna have three more plates to fill,” Jazz declared.

“That’s okay,” Tripwire said. “We always have enough.”

“Fraggin’ skiff...” a sailor cursed. The mechling turned to look and the grizzled seafarer looked aghast.

“Language,” Tripwire scolded. The mech’s shipmates roared with laughter.

They walked on. Tripwire’s manners were formal. Sure, Damaxus was not turning out to be the dilapidated slums Ori remembered, it was still a fishing port and the mechling’s manners seemed a little out of place. Yet, the mechanisms working the boats seemed to enjoy him. His accent sounded Praxian to Jazz’s audio horns though he had encountered few of his frametype. Apart from the small clues in his appearance, there was no suggestion of Polyhexian heritage in his accent or formal manners. Perhaps his family had made their lives as sailors before settling on Damaxus, as much as Praxians were noted to keep to their own, Polyhexian spread far and wide in search of work and shelter. The already tough living condition of the Wastes had only been worsened by vorns’ long droughts and Straxus’ greed and corruption. Ori had not been expecting paradise in Damaxus, and clearly it was tripping him up but they could work with this. There were lots of boats going to and fro, what would one more be to the islanders?

“Grandori, do we still have rooms?” Tripwire dipped his doorwings as he greeted the mech cover the desk. “Ms Dipole’s friends came to visit.”

“We have two,” the elder Praxian replied. “One small private room and one with two berths.”

“We’ll take’em,” Jazz replied, offering the innkeeper shanix to pay for the rooms. “Ori’ll have the private one, Rico ‘n me’ll share the double.”

“Please enter your designations on the register,” the innkeeper said. “Tripwire, take the fish to your grandgenitor and then you are free to do as you will.”

“Okay, Grandori,” Tripwire replied. “Thank you, Sir for carrying the basket for me. Have a good stay, Sirs.”

“Great mechling,” Jazz said.

“He is,” the innkeeper replied. “Jazz, Ricochet and Punch. I am Camshaft, my conjunx managing the bar at the moment. Please allow me to show you to your rooms and then I will show you to the pub. I imagine you are hungry.”

“That’d be much appreciated,” Jazz replied. Thunder so loud it almost shook the inn roared over helm, the innkeeper did not flinch, his guests did.

“The inn has generators,” Camshaft assured them. “Our power has never gone out. Though Downshift prefers to serve a fresh catch, we have fuel stores enough to keep everyone well fuelled for a stellar-cycle.”

“Wow,” Ricochet said. “Ori could appreciate that sorta preparation.”

“I can,” Punch agreed.

“This way,” Camshaft guided them out into the rain. Their rooms were in an outbuilding, Ori’s on the bottom and Jazz and Ricochet’s on the top. A sitting room with a piano occupied part of the bottom floor. “If you need anything, at any joor, please ring the bell and one of us will be of assistance.”

“We won’t be any trouble,” Jazz assured him. Punch nodded.

The innkeeper left them to settle in. There was a set of washracks to share between the three of them, which was better than most of the inns they had found themselves in over the vorns, certainly better than the caves. They had little to unpack, all three of them kept their arms close at servo in their subspaces. They might have been planning to blend into the detritus to get their work done but Jazz could not complain. Their rooms were clean, comfortable and warm. It was a far better way to spend a dark-cycle or two as they made a new plan. Thunder boomed again and Jazz appreciated the room over his helm that much more. No one would hear them scheme, in any case, not with their rooms being in their outbuilding and the storm crashing outside.

“It could be worse,” Jazz insisted. “It’s a whole aft island. We can find a spot to to make our base ‘n go from there.”

“Mecha might snoop,” Punch countered.

“The scum that used to be here woulda too,” Jazz countered. “If only to see if our take was worth stealin’.”

“Mm,” Punch hummed with discontent.

“Rico?” Jazz asked his brother. Two helms were better than one against Punch.

“What?” Ricochet asked.

“Do ya got... any thoughts... bout anythin’?” Jazz asked, frustrated with his twin’s disinterest.

“No,” Ricochet replied, looking out into the storm. Jazz and Punch both stared at him a moment... No?

“Shoulda left ya wit yer genitors,” Punch crumbled. “Get yer helm in the game, Ricochet.”

“I guess we should eat,” Ricochet declared.

It might have been a mistake to bring Ricochet along. He had not been the same since he had tangled with Lockdown off the coast of Simfur. Though he had come out alive and maybe even the victor of the match, it had seemed to Jazz like the winds had been sucked from Ricochet and he had been living and working mostly on autopilot. He had not wanted to go back out to sea and maybe this was their punishment for strong arming him into coming. It had been Geni’s idea. Rumbler insisting that what Ricochet needed to find was out here, somewhere, where he had lost it. What that was, Geni had shrugged when Jazz had asked. His spark, his will, his drive, all Rumbler had been certain of was that Lockdown was to blame for Ricochet’s current state. If Jazz only knew what Lockdown had done, Jazz might have switched things up and gone after the bounty hunter to even the score. Although, it was Ricochet who had Lockdown’s servo in a jar in his berthroom, and not Lockdown.

“What’ll it be?” Downshift asked. The innkeeper’s conjunx looked like he could play bouncer if their business ever needed one. He had small ridges on his helm that could have be audio horns. His facial features were not quite classically Praxian, like his conjunx. Perhaps Tripwire had picked up some recessive code.”

“Three soups of the ‘cycle,” Jazz said. The pub was packed. Sailors and fishermecha say sea shanties off key. “Uh... things ever get outta servo?”

“They know better,” Downshift replied. “Which means their friends do and they keep themselves in line. No one wants me, or Primus forbid, Cam, breaking up a fight. They’d never live it down. I’d see it.”

What did that mean? Jazz wondered. He would have to talk to Swerve and see what exactly went on when he had that run in with the innkeepers. Before they set up roots here, they needed to know all the players. If the innkeepers had replaced Lockdown as unoffical warlords of Damaxus, they need to choose a different place to serve as their base. Ratchet needed supplies. His patients needed supplies. The Deadend needed fuel, really they needed everything. From Darkmount, Straxus’ clamp down was spreading. If this kept up, the uprising would be suffocated. Whatever Straxus claimed, he would not lift military law or end the special prosecutions when the last traces of “dissent” died off. The uprising as an organized whole had emerged from them.

Though the storm outside was still going strong, the thunder had moved on. With Ricochet and Ori both recharging, Jazz slipped out. He needed to calm his processor before he could hope to recharge. Jazz only wanted a walk, that was what he told himself, if he spotted anything that might be useful to their business in Damaxus, that would just be a welcome bonus. It was frigus in Damaxus but the storm brought rain and not snow. Like Polyhex, snow was a rarity if not a complete unknown to the island. It was cold enough but Jazz’s insulated armour could hold him through worse than this. He walked past a pretty pond set up in the courtyard of the inn. There was a light glowing from the shallow depths. A shrine to the spirits and a bath for the lilleth were on the edge. It was rather wild, something to Jazz added to its charms. He could smell the sea and the storm and he walked towards it. If Lockdown had made his base here, there might be smuggling coves nearby. Even if they were too close to the inn to be of use to them, there might be abandoned stores that could be.

“Oh, excuse me,” a voice that sounded like the sea itself spoke. Jazz looked up and saw a Praxian coming out of the trees, a nude Praxian.

“Oh no, excuse me,” Jazz said quickly. “I swear I wasn’t gawking or nothin’. I’m just out to clear my helm... I hope’m not trespassing.”

“The grounds are free for guests to visit,” the Praxian said. “I am Prowl.”

“Prowl, ‘m Jazz.”

“My procreators mentioned last klik guests from Polyhex,” Prowl declared. “You were fortunate to miss the storm. What brings you out in it now?”

“Just... restless,” Jazz replied. “I guess I interrupted... somethin’.”

“Oh, yes,” Prowl said. “It is tradition in Damaxus to shower in the rains. They are a blessing, after all. Would you like to join me?”

“Join you?”

They showered in the rain, but only for a moment. Prowl stepped close and invited Jazz to touch and he was not mech enough to deny the beauty. Almost ethereal, the curvy Praxian was something out of a fantasy. His exact frame shape was something Jazz had not seen. He had broad hips, thick thighs and a large, round aft. Under the cover of trees and greenery, Jazz crouched between them as he gave Prowl as taste. The Praxian moaned sweetly as Jazz lapped at his golden folds, cupping his heavy wells, teasing his stiff golden nozzles with his own servos. His waist was snatched, giving him a perfect hourglass all without armour. He could have made statues of Prima jealous. Jazz cupped the beauty’s wells as he filled him from behind, taking his time to ensure Prowl felt nothing but pleasure. Prowl’s moans were beautiful. Jazz twisted the Praxian’s nozzle as he rocked his hips against his delicious aft. He overloaded Prowl with his digits, glossa and spike before flooding the beauty’s belly with his spend.

“Recharge well, Jazz,” Prowl told him as they separated. Exhausted by his efforts, Jazz was sure he would.