temporary respect for stoners tonight because they came up with this CBD infused blooming rose tea and it's actually really really good

Servantly duties

A/N: I've been working on this on and off for like a month so I'm sorry if its no bueno! I was really just trying to finish it and am keen to work on kinktober!

TW: implied sexual harassment, chipped fingernail, aphrodisiac/ love potion trope, forced kissing/touching

Synopsis: as a human servant to a satyr god, you're forced to draw him a bath and fall to his whims. 

Word Count:4000

Being a servant for a deity and their court was not as glamorous as it may have seemed. “Yes your highness” this, and “of course my lord” that; you were just thankful that satyrs were a lively race. Especially considering their knacks for magic and devious enchantments, not to mention their selfishly lustful acts. But you, you had the special task of taking care of a very important one. A god. Though the god himself was not very powerful nor crucial to most creatures, in the hierarchy of his race he was the most grand. 

After getting caught stealing from his altar out of desperation, you were condemned to work in the prime temple as a servant. You were shown mercy partly due to the gods laziness, and mostly because the being took a strange, licentious liking to you. Besides nymphs, humans were one of the most sought after creatures by satyrs, and it was not very often that one of the two would strut into such a dangerous territory. If it weren’t for the deity keeping you at his side, you probably would’ve been taken by one of his subjects. Satyrs never had a filter on their ravenous sexuality, only god knows what would’ve happened if they got their claws on you. But, it's not like the deity was any better. 

Though your servitude was a punishment, you grew accustomed to your life here. You swallow your pride in order to avoid the gods wrath, hoping someday to be free of serving such voracious creatures. A snide comeback wasn’t worth being cursed for the rest of your life. He was still a deity, after all. So, you bite your tongue and do your duties. You were constantly at his beck and call to refill a glass of wine, to clean up after a luxurious party, or to wave a fan. The work never ended.

You recalled the orders from earlier. 

"Dearest, I want a bath this evening. Make it nice, I only want you in my company." he purred to you. 

You responded accordingly, but saw the way he looked at you. You were sure that he was planning some dastardly crude idea to get you to fall for him. 

You were brought out of your thoughts by a searing pain, accidentally touching the burning pot in front of you. You retracted your hand as fast as lightning from the boiling water. The small fire underneath it had been slowly dying but yet the pail stayed piping hot. Picking up the handle, you delicately rose it from the fireplace. The metal handle dug into your skin as the weight of the water became nearly too much to carry. But you continued walking towards the large bath.

Reaching the basin, you took the thick cloth in your pocket and held the bottom of the pail, dumping it into the bath. The steam quickly diminished as the hot liquid mixed with the water already placed in the tub.

You hummed to yourself as you picked up a bottle of rose oil. You smelled it for a moment, savoring the sweet scent you'd likely never be able to experience fully. Small drips of the liquid fell into the bath, the smell becoming more potent the more it dripped. Setting it back down you took the few flowers surrounding the bathtub and began to peel them. The dried petals fell into the water elegantly. You snuck a few smaller ones into your pocket, watching the door in case the deity appeared. 

You got up to find the clothes you put on the bed earlier, grabbing them and turning slowly to the basin again; The labor of the day was finally hitting you yet it was nice to have a moment alone. But your slack shoulders didn’t stay at ease for long; the sound of the bedroom door swinging open made you tense up again, hurrying to bring the clothing into the bathroom.

“Oh dearest human,” a sing-songy voice called. “Is my bath ready yet?” You heard the rustling of fabric come from the bedroom as you tripped over yourself to get to the door. 

“Yes, my lord.” You cleared your throat, looking as you saw what was in front of you. 

The satyr deity, Philon, was currently eyeing you with a grin. He had already tossed off his satchel, his dirty tunic clearly next. To say the god was bulky was an understatement. His race was not all that different from humans, but his huge stature and animalistic features said otherwise. The deity status was not one that made him any less intimidating, either. He easily towered over you, peering down while his furry ears twitched and his hazel eyes twinkled. You had helped dress the satyr on multiple occasions and occasionally tended to his bath, but it was always with other servants or worshippers. Now, you were given the task to handle him alone. You couldn't even imagine it.

He completely shattered any line of professionalism to the point where you didn't know whether to take his flirty words seriously, to refute them, or to fall to his whims out of fear for your life. Some of the other servants believed Philon was trying to court you. From the way he pursued you longer than any other creature that caught his eye, and how he dismissed any other satyr from touching you, it did look suspicious. But you wouldn't believe it; after all his games and his sickeningly sweet remarks, you believed you were just another distraction until he got bored.

"Finally," the god released a groan, stretching his arms as he began to disrobe. "Feels like I've been out in that forest for ages." 

He noticed you watching as he pulled leaves out of his long hair, undoing the intricate weaving you prepared this morning. Small pieces of gold and little jewels were still strung in his locks. He smirked, staring back at you as he stroked his hair. 

"See something you like?" 

You looked away quickly. 

"I apologize for staring," you mumbled, embarrassed and trying to gesture to the bathroom. He was so full of himself. "Please my lord, your bath is ready." 

Philon grinned, strutting past you. 

As he made his way to the bath, the god began untying his once white tunic. It had been stained with spilt wine and dirt, remnants that surely came from the loud festival outside. But he stopped for a moment, watching you stand there without following. 

"Well come on now, these clothes aren't going to come off themselves!" The satyr said with a hearty laugh. 

You swallowed harshly. At Least being ravaged by a deity was better than any old satyr, you thought to yourself. The all male race had definitely not been easy to deal with.  Everyone was still outside the temple, busy celebrating this year's harvest thanks to Philon; he was usually the last one standing when it came to celebrations of himself.

You walked as slow as you could to the large porcelain bath. Philon sat on the edge of it and stuck a finger in the warm water, swirling it around as petals stuck to his skin. The pleasant aroma of the bath helped ease your nerves. 

He watched you shuffle in, poorly hiding a devious smirk behind his hand. Your shaky hands begin to undo the knot that he had clearly re-tied. 

You felt him staring down at you as warm breath hitting the top of your head. Your fingers struggled with the knot, sweat dripping down your brow as his stare grew intense. But he didn't stop you. Fumbling until your fingernail split, you successfully undid the knot. A small sacrifice to keep your dignity. You were glad the satyr didn’t seem to notice. 

At the removal of the knot, the rest of the satyr’s clothes came undone. His chiton fell to the floor gracefully piling around his feet. You had seen the deity in all his naked glory before, but for some reason this time it felt different. Maybe it was because you were the only one who had his attention. Or maybe, it was because it felt like he was burning holes into your face with how hard he was looking for your reaction. 

You ignored him, picking up the loose fabric that smelled of sweat and sweet wine to put in a small basket. Philon stepped into the tub, letting out an audible groan at feeling the water pool around his legs. You jumped at hearing him, the sensual noise catching you off guard. The lord lowered himself into the bath of petals and sweet smells as he waited for you to tend to him. Picking up the basket of clothes, you intended to get out as fast as you could. Bowing shortly you skittered towards the door. 

“Wait a minute,” the satyr beckoned you with a finger, eyebrows furrowed. “You don’t think you’re done, do you? How am I supposed to get clean?” 

He lifted his furry hoof, water dripping off of his lower half as you looked away; you were tempted to roll your eyes. Of course he wanted you to clean him. You reluctantly set down the basket, coming closer to the bath. You prayed to any other deities that could hear you, hoping they would save you from such a fate. 

But alas, nothing stopped you as you found a clean washcloth on the table behind the bath, near the flower oils and a bar of soap. You quickly grabbed it, dipping the washcloth in the bath water and furiously rubbing the chunk of lye. Maybe if you rushed, he wouldn’t have time to try and mess with you, right? That was the only hope you could cling to. 

But as soon as you were ready to begin bathing him, you froze. This was going to be a lot harder than you thought. You thanked the gods that bubbles covered his lower half, but his bare, dripping chest and biceps still sat before you.

“Start with my shoulders,” He commanded, resting his arms on the bath’s rim. “I’ve got a terrible ache.”

You bit your tongue and shimmied on your knees to the other side of the bath. “Of course.” 

His back was as clean as you’d expect of a god who lazed all day. The nape of his neck was slick with sweat and water, a flurry of freckles dotting his back; they almost seemed to form constellations. You brought the washcloth to his shoulders, feeling his muscles vibrating under your touch. The small divots and hills of his skin were smooth against your fingertips. Before you knew it you had soaped up his shoulders and back completely. He had let out a few, throaty groans at your work but you were too preoccupied to notice. The satyr let out a blissful sigh as he turned upward to look at you. 

“Don’t think your work is done yet, my little dove,” Philon grinned from upside down, fingers reaching out to graze your lips. He left your cheek wet with soap suds as you stayed put, mostly out of surprise. He cupped your cheek as you dared not to lean in or move away.

He then pointed to his head, the long reddish brown strands swaying as he moved. You were dazed for a moment until it clicked, your eyes lighting up with relief. Perhaps, all he really wanted was a bath? Maybe your hope was turning to delusion. 

You grabbed a fancy glass bottle, remembering from having seen it a thousand times while cleaning. You assumed that it was the right one for hair, and poured its contents. Lathering it in your hands, you came to find Philon’s hair was already wet, likely done by the deity in order to speed the process up. You could tell he was growing impatient.

You began from the top of his skull down to the tips of his long locks, thoroughly massaging the suds into his head. You got to the sides near his long, furry ears, rubbing the soap in as you heard him release another groan. They seemed nearly unintentional; the deity's eyes were shut as he let you mold him, his body lax.

You were careful to avoid his horns, their presence hindering your scrubbing. They were one of the few traits that defined the satyr. Other than his horns and ears, from the waist up you'd think he was human. Well, nearly. His kind tended to grow more hair and fur than humans, and this one in particular had the blood of a god flowing through his veins. 

You cupped the deity's chin and leaned his head back lightly, cupping water in your hands to wash out the lavender scented soap. He leaned his head backward and brought your arm to his chest.

Your hand went limp in his, afraid for a moment. You allowed yourself to keep washing the soap suds as he stroked your palm. Philon’s fingers messed with yours, prying open your hand that was balled into a fist. Warm, wet hands tickled your wrist as he intertwined his fingers with yours. 

You swiftly finished rinsing the soap, getting up to busy yourself with finding the rag you left somewhere. You swore you left it on the table only a few feet away. But before you could figure out the location of the rag, you felt your arm tugged by a slimy hand. 

"What's this?" Philon asked. He observed your broken nail. "What happened?"

You watched as he stroked your pointer finger, looking closely at the crack that divided your fingernail. 

"Just an accident. It doesn't impede my work." You said matter-of-factly.

"Well I can't have you working with an injury like this. It could get infected, you know. "

"But the soap--"

He put a finger to your lips, talking over you.

"No buts. In fact, I think this needs to be taken care of now before you injure yourself more."

You were unable to protest as he pulled your arms into the tub. Before you knew it, he had dragged you entirely in, making you let out a yelp as he embraced you with his arms. Your clothes quickly soaked as you flailed. 

Philon chuckled as shock and surprise fled your eyes. You bit your tongue to prevent from giving him a piece of your mind, not daring to extend your servitude sentence any longer. But boy, did you want to bite his head off.

"Awe, what's with the frown?" He grabbed your chin, twisting your face to admire the scowl you held. "glad I was able to make you wet, though."

You couldn't help but cringe, feeling the satyr grip your backside, both to hold you up and to cup a feel. You assumed you looked like a wet cat about now. 

"My lord, how am I supposed to do my work like this?" you said between gritted teeth.

The satyr kept grinning at you cheekily.

"I can't have you getting hurt again on my watch. You can keep washing me in the bath." He leaned back in the tub, waiting for you to make your move. 

Looking at his chest, you realized what he expected. He was still holding you, rubbing his large hands on your knees as you unintentionally straddled his waist. You didn't waste any time wondering what the protruding thing beneath you was.

At a loss for words, you decided to just keep working. Still holding onto the delusional hope of being able to finish quickly and leaving, you leaned forward to grab the soap from behind the Satyr. 

The awkward positioning reminded you just how odd and wrong this situation was. He was a deity, a forest spirit who could banish you to never step foot in a grassy plain in the region again; he could take you if he so pleased, nothing in his presence able to stop him from claiming you as many times as he wanted. 

It wasn't your place to be here, in a bath big enough to hold three, of which barely fit the both of you from the sheer size of the satyr. He touched you as if you were a lover, softly, taking in every crack and blemish in your skin. But that touch was also filled with authority; the way he touched you without looking for your acknowledgement, proved to you he knew there were no consequences. 

Philons’ hand traveled up your hip, caressing your side as you extended to grab the bar of soap. You nearly had it, but it was still out of reach. He merely watched as you struggled to grab it. You were too engrossed in reaching the slick bar of soap to see him come up close to you, breath tickling the hairs of your neck. A soft kiss was planted below your ear, the satyrs’ hand coming up to caress your jaw.

 You slipped without warning, which planted you face-first into his chest. Your nose burned from hitting his sternum so roughly, making your eyes tear up. His flush skin pressed on yours made you scramble up immediately, feet scurrying in the water to get off of him. Grabbing your hands he steadied you as you stuttered. 

"I'm so sorry!" You cried. While the satyr made your skin crawl, you still felt bad about planting yourself right between his tits. 

"Calm down," Philon chuckled, steadying you on his lap. "I never realized how much of a skittish little thing you were." You tensed as he brought your hand with the soap bar up to his chest. "Guess that's one more thing I enjoy about you."

His words nearly made you vomit. But the soap! You managed to grab it during the fall. The satyr almost looked disappointed when you ignored him and found the rag once more, watching you scrub the lye bar. Philon adjusted his legs beneath you, groaning as he "accidentally" grinded upward to get more comfortable. You would've scrambled off his lap by now if it weren't for his hands holding your damp hips. 

Rubbing Philon’s chest in a methodical motion, you watched as the cloth began to make white bubbles on his tanned skin. His ears twitched and you swore if he wasn't in the bath, you would see his tail doing the same. The deity was waiting in anticipation, licking his lips as he felt your soft hands on his torso. He panted, flexing his fingers into the flesh of your thighs. You sighed and looked up at him to see what all the fuss was. 

But his mouth was on you before you could ask. His forehead knocked against yours as he kissed you with a salivating mouth. Philon moved fast, pushing you backwards in the bath and pressing you against it; the water sloshing outside of the basin didn't stop him. Your arms stuck out awkwardly with your hands still holding the rag and soap. 

"Mmn…! I can't help myself anymore--" he cut himself off with a kiss to the side of your mouth, voice hoarse and impatient. "I tried to give you time… let you come to me to spare my pride, but I can't … can't wait any longer. " 

You squealed against his mouth, surprised and desperate for air. You knew the god would pounce, just unsure of when. And now was not the most convenient time. His soapy chest pressed into yours and dampened the rest of your clothes; his hands gripped hard onto the tub as he tried to get on top of you. His furry legs tickled yours under the water, ears flicking against your cheek as he smothered you with affection. He really had been holding back. 

"My lord--" your voice cracked as you tried to press yourself deeper into the tub to create space. Philon took the challenge, pressing harder. "Please this is no way to behave-!" You were cut off with a kiss as he straddled your waist and forced your hands into his hair. The rows and rows of indents that formed his curled horns were smooth in your hands; Philon moaned into your mouth each time you ran your hands down them to push him off. You twisted away from his mouth, biting his lip for an extra measure. 

"Why don’t you understand, I don't want this! Leave me alone!”

He laughed, belittling you with just one condescending look.

"I love the chase,” He licked his lip. "I think you'll find yourself yearning for me soon."

"What?" 

Philon reached for a fragile bottle of wine on the counter of soaps and oils. You never had the pleasure of tasting such a delicacy but have witnessed its effects on those who drank it. It was a well-known aphrodisiac in the region, and you wouldn't be caught dead drinking such a thing around a satyr. Nonetheless this bastard.

He eyed you, taking a sip but not yet swallowing. You fought to get out of his grasp now that his other hand was preoccupied; he managed to hold you down with his forearm, pushing it across your chest to keep you tucked against the bath. The water was beginning to grow cold, bubbles having disintegrated and the fragrant smells starting to diminish. The flower petals had long since dissolved, turning the water a rosy red. 

He threw the empty bottle to the floor with a clang, using his now free hand to try to pry open your mouth. As much as you stayed stubborn, you couldn't help but release a gasp when his long nails dug into your thigh. 

Philon slammed his mouth onto yours, forcing the wine down your throat and against your tongue.Tears welled in your eyes and your nose began to burn. The satyrs inhuman leg pressed itself against your crotch as your hands twisted into his. 

Letting go of your mouth with a wet "pop," philon came to recover your lips with his hand, nearly suffocating you. 

"Swallow. Swallow it." He looked at you with expectant eyes. "Be a good little human now."

You couldn't breathe, water sloshing next to your ears while the large creature forced himself onto you. For the satyr though, he couldn't get enough. The water dripped down your chest, your collar slightly open as you breathed heavily. You groaned against his fingers, just like he always wanted. 

You swallowed the thick, fermented juice, only out of fear for your life. The male let go as you gasped for air. 

"I'm going to make you give yourself to me." He said, as your chest heaved and your hands tried to push him back. "When you're desperate and drooling in only a few moments, you'll have to beg me to touch you."

You promised yourself you wouldn't, that you would keep that small sliver of dignity no matter how dire the situation was, no matter how badly you wanted to return home. But the wine was already starting to take effect. You felt it in your fingers and toes, ones that tingled and went numb. Your chest ached and a warm feeling spread down your stomach. 

"You're already feeling it, aren't you?"

The aphrodisiac was beginning to take its course. Your muscles tensed  as your body grew restless; Philon watched with a sadistic glint in his eyes. He stayed true to his words, refusing to touch you until you began to squirm. You put your hand to your crotch, trying to suppress the growing urge inside of you. The sweet aftertaste of the wine still lingered in your mouth. Philon growled, ears twitching and flicking the gold pieces embedded in his horns and hair. The wine was beginning to take its hold on him, too. Not that he would’ve needed it in the first place.

He panted, running his smooth fingertips down your wet clothes. You felt sticky and hot and impatient, breathing heavily as something inside you made you thirsty. Philon squeezed your chest with hungry hands; you could see the lust beginning to take over his snide expression, his normally insatiable libido somehow growing worse. 

“you're going to be begging on your knees for me.“

Court of Darkness: You Look Good With…

Here’s a list of items each prince finds most attractive on the MC when the MC wears them.

…

Guy - Ruby Rings

Upon their engagement, Guy gives MC a beautiful ruby ring, an heirloom passed down generations by Avari royalty. He’s made a slight modification to the ring, adding a protection spell to have it shine like a beacon when poison is detected—one can never be too careful with assassination attempts.

The ring is a sign—one that shows MC’s power and commitment to Guy, and a warning to others that she is his and his alone. To the Avari court’s great surprise, Guy has a second nearly identical ring made that he wears. It too is a sign to others—that he will have no other being than her by his side.

Lynt - Matching Cloak

The day Lynt gets giddy with excitement is one where MC shows off a white and emerald green cloak made by an Akedian tailor residing in Colde. The cloak is similar to the one that Lynt has in that it doubles as a sleeping bag. Unlike his cloak, MC’s cloak can magically expand to hold two people in it.

Lynt instantly wants to try wearing MC’s cloak with her. And thus Lynt discovers a second enhancement to the cloak—it includes an enchantment that allows users to blend into their environment like a chameleon. Now he and MC will have fewer interrupted naps!

Sorry Tino—your job at finding your wayward prince just got harder.

Toa - Scarf with Hidden Pockets

MC knits a gigantic cobalt scarf to match Toa’s piercing blue eyes. The scarf is long enough to easily accommodate two people. MC uses the scarf to snuggle with Toa when walking in town or sitting in the S:Rank lounge. The scarf is wider and thicker at each end so that MC can secretly hold Toa’s hands underneath it to warm them up.

Toa adores the scarf—it was crafted with love, and he gets to subtly enjoy MC’s touch without showing off too much PDA. Fenn often tries to join the cuddle scarf session, to Toa’s extreme annoyance. In these moments, MC brings a smile back on Toa’s face by grabbing a homemade Carmel from the scarf’s hidden pockets and placing it in his mouth.

Fenn - Jasmine Perfume and Fishnet Stockings

When it comes to Fenn, everything feels like a caress—his quips, his whispered words, his elegant fingers dancing across exposed skin. Conversely, Fenn feels most comforted by MC when he smells her jasmine perfume. He nuzzles against her neck whenever she is near, wanting to drown in her scent. Even if she is not with him, he’ll snuggle up against her Jasmine-infused pillow until she returns—after all, she is the home that he can always return to.

Fenn also has a thing for MC wearing skimpy outfits that show off her legs—especially fishnet stockings.

MC: Fenn, I feel so exposed wearing these!

Fenn: Well, that’s the point, isn’t it Treasure?

MC: Says the man who’s fully clothed right now! *Pouts*

Fenn: Ah, that can be quickly dealt with. *Wink*

Roy - Rose Petal Earrings and His Jacket

Sentimental man that he is, Roy saved a few rose petals that floated in the air with their first kiss. He freeze dried two of the petals and worked with an Invidian silversmith to craft a set of rose pedal earrings encased with silver. Roy smiles whenever MC wears them…which is constantly.

The earrings, however, are Roy’s second favorite thing MC wears. The absolute favorite thing is discovered by accident. One day, MC comes out of Roy’s shower, but is unable to find a towel. Since she hasn’t mastered the spell for drying herself off, she grabs Roy’s white and pink jacket, dons it like an impromptu bathrobe, and walks out to his room.

MC: Hey Roy, do you have a towel?

Roy: *Mouth is partially open, golden eyes widening in astonishment*

MC: Umm, sorry about wearing this Love, I couldn’t find—

Roy: *Pulls MC to his chest* By Creator, how are you so adorable and alluring at once?

Congrats MC—your date plans with Roy just got thrown out the window.

Rio - Apron and Flour

Cooking and baking are among Rio’s favorite things to do with MC. His heart is at its fullest when he and MC are in the kitchen, making food for themselves and their friends, flour speckled on their noses and cheeks.

MC gets two aprons, one for her one for Rio. They both say “Kiss the cook” on the front. Rio takes this message quite literally.

MC: Rio! I have jam on my lips and face now!

Rio: Oops, let me get that off for you Sunbeam! *Kisses/licks jam off MC’s face*

Lance - Leather Jacket

A black leather jacket looks VERY good on MC. It highlights her curves in all the right places, it’s certainly edgier than what those ridiculous S Ranks wear, AND she looks quite pleased with wearing it given the smile she graces Lance with.

MC smiles because the jacket contains special pockets—ones she uses to hide treats for Grushia the wolf or Christop. MC isn’t sure who is happier—Christop or Grushia at getting the yummy food, or Lance at seeing the pup and boy so happy.

Zephyr (MYG)

Zephyr: A soft gentle breeze; Comforting wind on a hot summer's day.

Part of the “Protect the Village!” Oneshot series.

Masterlist

Pairing: Florist!Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Fluff, mentions of death (not major, don’t worry) Yoongles doesn’t know how to express himself, soft boi hours.

Note: Time for me to pass out. We’re back on schedule hoes. :)

Summary: First, it was flowers for your grandmother. Next, it was flowers for a sick friend. Now, its flowers because the handsome flower shop owner lives in your head rent free.

Word Count: 4.3k

      A dense, luscious forest surrounds Bangtan Village. Filled with sturdy oak trees and delicate blooming flowers. As far as the eye can see, it’s nature. Trees stretch to the heavens, touching the sky with their strong appendages. Flowers draping over the petrichor forest floor, gracing those who walk through its lush maze. 

      It’s magical, really. Some rumour that Bangtan Village is ancient, rivaling the Mayans. Local historians say that the people here were protecting something that lays dormant in the forest. What that relic is? A mystery to most. But town elders always warn against wandering in the woods. Whispers of a magical heart that keeps the town alive roles through the town every year after New Year’s celebrations. 

Because nobody knows why every year the village gets a new influx of natural resources

      But thanks to this odd phenomenon, Min Yoongi never runs out of flowers. Peonies, sunflowers, hibiscuses. Every kind of flower grows in that forest, regardless if it scientifically should. Everyone collectively dismisses the impossible things that go on beyond those trees. Ignorance is bliss.

So because of the logic defying forest, Min Yoongi always has the best flowers. Which, in turn, means you always know where to find spider lilies. 

      Any event. Birthdays, weddings, minor celebrations. They always called for flowers. That was your motto. Flowers make everything better. Roses here, daisies there. Nothing can go wrong with flowers. They can make someone smile, ignite love, mourn a loss. Flowers can do anything, and your glad Min Yoongi indulges your thinking.

She loved roses. 

      Your grandmother was a bit old-fashioned. Not the most tech savvy, would rather do things by hand, and was a sucker for a beautiful red rose. Maybe it was because those were the flowers in her wedding bouquet. Or maybe its because your grandfather always brought her one every single day before he passed. It doesn’t matter. 

What matters is your getting her those roses, one last time. 

      When you first walked into Min’s Flowers, it had a peculiar petrichor smell. Like the shop was in an endless cycle of spring. Solf showers and light rays. It was a comforting calmness that soothed the cracks in your heart. Every which was there was a flower resting in peaceful serenity. 

      All the flowers seemed to look dreary, or maybe the soft petals were acting as a mirror, reflecting the melancholy of the day. You wouldn’t know. The only thing currently on your mind was red roses. Red roses. You needed to get those red roses. 

      Walking deeper into the shop, the walls greeted you with blissful silence. Not a sound was made, not a person in sight, shopkeeper or customer. It was just you and the flowers. A cruel thing, really. Alone with beautiful works of art that couldn’t distract your racing mind with words, only looks. But everywhere you looked, memories of your grandmother lingered. You needed words to revive your slowly beating heart. 

      “Hey, can I help you with anything?” A gruff voice sounded through the hazy, quiet aura of the shop. Turning around, you saw a man with scruffy noir hair. He wasn’t the tallest, but wasn’t short either. He had sharp brown eyes that emanated a hidden warmth encased in cool glass. His skin was as pale as petunias and he wore a desaturated blue apron with flowers peaking out of the pocket. 

      “I’m looking for red roses...” You somberly informed, unable to keep the emotion out of your voice. His cat-like eyes slightly softened, flashing a look of sympathy for your lost soul. You wondered if he often encountered lost souls here in the shop, using his business as a pit stop in a wayward journey. “I have just what you’re looking for,” He said, gesturing me to follow him.

      He led you through the shop in silence, like a drifting ghost. He floated elegantly through his shop, uncaring of the twist and turns that appeared in his way, even if there were few. Soon, he led you to an area full of roses, all different colors. White, blue, yellow. It was a beautiful image. 

      But he walked passed them, going towards a door in the back. “Where are we going?” You asked, stopping just a bit behind him. “Those roses are pretty, yes, but I think you need something more,” He said, face unchanging from a stoic expression. He opened the door, walking inside to grab something out of the artificially sun lit room. 

      Reappearing, he held a bouquet full of two dozen bright red roses. The petals undamaged, their color as lush as the day they came out of the Earth. “I’ve been saving these for a special occasion, I think they’d be of use to you now,” The man said, handing you the bouquet, You held them gently, afraid to damage the perfect flowers. 

      “How are they so perfect?” You marveled, unable to peel your eyes away from the beauty of which you held. “A lot of odd things happen in Bangtan,” Was his answer, nothing more. “Go on, I’m sure you have somewhere to be,” He said, putting a soft hand on your back, guiding you to the entrance you came in from. 

      “But I have to pay!” You protested, but the man didn’t stop guiding you. “Consider it a gift,” He shrugged. “But I don’t even know your name,” You argued, looking at him incredulously. “It’s Yoongi, what’s yours?” He asked, tilting his head slightly. “Y/n,” You answered. “Well Y/n, it was nice to meet you. Now go on, I hope those roses bring peace,”

      You didn’t go back to Min’s Flowers for three months. You decided it would be best to mourn in your own way, by yourself. That didn’t mean your close friends didn’t keep an eye on you though, Jimin and Jeongguk would never let you forget that they were there for you. Whether it was late night junk food runs to Hoseok’s store or messing around with Taehyung at the bakery. They made sure you knew they were there, waiting for you when you were ready to be picked back up and put back together.

      Which you were. You picked yourself back up and hammered yourself together. Life didn’t wait for anyone. Seasons still changed, flowers still bloomed, zephyrs still came and went. Maybe the tape you used to patch yourself up was still a bit brittle, maybe the glue you used to fill the cracks in your heart hasn’t quite dried yet, but you were okay. 

      And Jimin was not. Poor bastard caught a nasty case of the flu and has been miserable ever since. Jeongguk and you have been taking care of him whenever you could, and when he started complaining about missing the outside, flowers seemed like the perfect remedy. “I really like yellow and white chrysanthemums” 

      Those were Jimin's words when you asked him what his favorite flower was, and by golly were you going to get him the prettiest yellow and white chrysanthemums ever. So that’s how you found yourself back at the shop which aided your once wayward soul. 

      The shop still had that same comforting petrichor scent. Memories of the pixie like world that the flower shop simulated came back to you as you saw the same flowers in the exact same places as last time. When you first came to the shop, you had a heart leaking with melancholy. Now, you have a heart with scars and a mission to make your friend feel better. 

      “Oh, you’re back,” A familiar voice said. Turning, you saw the same man as before. He had mint hair now, standing at the counter. “That I am, Yoongi,” You said. You don’t know why the name stuck in your head the way it did, but you couldn’t forget it. Every time you thought about getting some flowers, Yoongi popped into your head. 

      It surprised Yoongi that you remembered his name. He thought that the interaction between the two of you was significant to him and him only. But hearing your soft utterance of his name made him freeze longer than he should’ve. “I’m surprised you remember me,” He said, cracking the slightest of smiles. 

      “You’re memorable, I suppose,” You chuckled, taking a few steps deeper into the indoor forest that was Yoongi’s flower shop. “So what brings you here this time?” Yoongi asked, not taking his eyes off of you. “My friend’s sick, so I wanted to get his favorite flower to cheer him up,”

      Yoongi nodded, walking around the counter to stand in front of you. “Well, I can guarantee that I have it here. What are we looking for?” He said, voice unchanging from a dull tone. “Yellow and white chrysanthemums,” You said, and Yoongi didn’t need to hear anymore before he was guiding you once more through the shop. The floor was slightly wet, showing that Yoongi had watered the flowers recently. 

      Quietly, he led you to where he kept the chrysanthemums, gesturing one of his hands to the yellow and white ones. “Go ahead and pick. A dozen flowers are 9,000 won,” Yoongi said, walking away to do his shopkeeper things. 

      That day you stayed in the shop a bit longer than you expected. You and Yoongi talked for what seemed like forever. Maybe it was minutes, maybe it hours, you wouldn’t know. You didn’t care, Yoongi was like a breath of fresh air. A whispering zephyr during the summer solstice. 

        So you kept coming back, again and again. Every day after work you made your way to Min’s Flowers, eager to talk to your new florist friend. You would arrange bouquets with him, tell him jokes, watch movies on the tv he had in the back. No matter the day or the weather, you never failed to meet with Yoongi every single day. Sometimes with Jimin and Jeongguk, sometimes alone.

You couldn’t get enough. Yoongi couldn’t get enough, and that scared him. 

      Min Yoongi was a quiet man. He preferred to stick to himself, hoping to limit the amount of human interaction he had on a daily basis. It’s not that he didn’t like people, per se, but he just rarely got along with others. It was a problem for him since Kindergarten. Being overly blunt with peers or arguing with the teacher. 

      He just drove people away with his cold aura and “unforgiving” personality. Yes, Yoongi had friends. He had Hoseok, Namjoon, Jin, Taehyung, even Jimin and Jeongguk hung out with him from time to time. But he’s never had that certain type of connection with someone. 

     Yoongi used to think he was critically apathetic. That no matter how much he wanted to bounce off the walls in celebration when Taehyung met his business goal, he couldn’t. He couldn’t muster up anything other than a “That’s good, I’m happy for you,” And he was! He knew he was, but he didn’t quite express that he was. 

      It left Yoongi feeling inferior, like he was a bad person. What kind of friend comforts you after a breakup by saying, “Love is dead anyway,”? Min Yoongi, apparently. Yeah, Yoongi had feelings. Things made him sad, mad, happy, annoyed. He wasn’t entirely broken. But those feeling felt like they were dampened, diluted. 

      “Aren’t you happy? Sad? Mad?” Those were the words Yoongi dreaded, because the answer was always yes. Yes, he was happy that Jin got a girlfriend. Yes, he was sad that Jeongguk couldn’t find the person painting flowers all over Bangtan village. Yes, he was mad Jimin shattered one of his terracotta pots. He just didn’t express it well. 

But you never seemed to care.

      You took Yoongi’s blunt words at face value. You believed him when he said, “That’s funny,” at one of your embarrassing childhood stories. You didn’t question why he wasn’t crying during “The Notebook” even if the tragic story silently broke his heart. You took his small smile just as seriously as you would a full one. That made Yoongi happy, even if he couldn’t express that to you. 

      You didn’t treat Yoongi’s lack of expression as a bad thing. You didn’t think he was cold and uncaring, because you knew he was. Actions speak louder than words. When he bandaged your ankle after you slipped in a puddle one day in the shop. When he gave you half of his granola bar after hearing your stomach rumble. Or how he never fails to ask how your day went, even if it sounded rather uncaring to the average person.

      Yoongi didn’t know when it happened or how. Yoongi didn’t know why your simple touches turned smouldering to him. Or why your smile was a picture he’d look at forever. He doesn’t know when he started eagerly looking at the clock, waiting for 4pm when you’d undoubtedly would come visit him at the shop. Yoongi didn’t know when it hit him, when his horribly suppressed emotions made him feel something like no other. 

Yoongi didn’t know when he fell in love with you, but damn did he fall hard.

      “Alright Yoongs, I agree with you on most things, but mint chocolate ice cream is definitely not it.” You argued, poking his carton of green ice cream with your spoon. “Well, coffee-flavored ice cream is weird too,” Yoongi retorted, stuffing a spoon full of ice cream monstrosity into his mouth. You dramatically gasped, “Yoongi! Coffee is totally a valid flavor,” You laid your head on the table inside Yoongi’s back room, putting a hand to your heart, “You wound me,” 

      Yoongi rolled his eyes, going back to his pint of frozen goodness. “You’re ridiculous,” He said, shaking his head. “Hold on, I speak Yoongi. You just said that I’m funny and you love me,” You teased. Yoongi felt his face slightly flush at your words, but he cleared his throat, changing the topic. “Whatever, wanna arrange a wedding bouquet with me?” 

      You quickly sat up, stars in your eyes as you ecstatically nodded your head. “Hells yes!” Yoongi hummed, grabbing both pints of ice cream and putting them away in the mini refrigerator he had. “Let’s go then, I already have my work space set up,” He said, walking out the room to which you happily followed him. 

      “So, a marriage? Is it a big one?” You asked. Yoongi shrugged, sitting down in his work chair to which he already had a spare one set up next to it. “I guess, I mean, how big can things get in Bangtan Village?” He said, picking up roses and cutting off bits of their stems. 

      “I dunno Yoongs, remember that time you found a huge sunflower in the forest? Bangtan Village may have a small population, but things can get pretty weird here,” You chuckled, joining Yoongi in his somewhat tedious task. “Yes, you are correct. Many things in that forest surprise me.” He said, nonchalantly. 

      “Really? Are there fairies? White stags? Gremlins?” You asked, turning towards the man contently snipping away at the stems next to you. “You and your fairy tales,” Yoongi sighed, secretly finding your interest in the unexplainable cute. 

       The two of you worked together in silence, enjoying each other's presence as the artful skills Yoongi had with flowers created beautiful bouquets. But the silent atmosphere was suddenly broken when your phone rang. Fishing it out of your pocket, Jeongguk's face appeared on the screen. You excused yourself and answered the phone outside, leaving Yoongi alone in the room. To him it felt a bit colder now.

      A couple minutes later, you peaked your head in the door, gaining Yoongi’s attention with a smile. “Sorry to say this Yoongs, but I have to help Jeongguk with something,” You said. Yoongi felt disappointed, but his face remained unchanging. “Oh... Okay... Do you- Nevermind,” Do you have too? Is what Yoongi wanted to ask. He didn’t want you to go, he wanted you to stay and make pretty flower arrangements with him. But he couldn’t express it.

      “I’ll be back tomorrow, don’t miss me too much, okay?” You joked, bidding the gruff florist a farewell. Yoongi tried to. But he really did miss you. Not only that, he felt... Jealous... He found himself wishing he was Jeongguk or wishing that you left your phone on silent so you wouldn’t hear his call. 

      It was selfish, Yoongi knew that, but that didn’t mean the feeling didn’t go away. He didn’t like this feeling. His emotions may feel weaker than others, but jealously always came on strong. Why did he have to be like this? Why couldn’t he just admit his feelings for you, ask you out on a date, tell you all the things that ran through his head about you?

      He needed to do something. What if Jeongguk made a move on you? What if you guys were kissing right now? Or worse, on a date... Yoongi’s heart felt heavy. His heart was heavy and his stomach was queezy. 

      One good thing came from Yoongi’s less than normal emotional responses. It meant embarrassment and shame were less of a bitch. Still total bitches, but bitches on chill pills. “Alright,” Yoongi told himself, “Operation fuck my emotional response and ask Y/n out on a date is a go,” Yoongi immediately pulled out his phone, dialing his friend Jin. 

     “Hello!” Jin answered. “Hyung... I need your help with something.” Yoongi said, his voice deadly serious. “What’s up?” Yoongi took a deep breath, wiping his sweaty palms on his apron. 

“You have a girlfriend...” Yoongi blurted out 

“Yes...?” Jin chuckled

“And you asked her out,” 

“That is correct.”

“How did you do that?” 

      Yoongi heard Jin’s squeaky laugh through the phone. “What?” He asked, confusion clear in his voice. “How d'you ask her out...?” Yoongi asked again. “I told her that I had feelings for her and asked her to go out with me,” Jin answered, most likely shrugging those broad shoulders of his. “How were you able to express your feelings?” Yoongi sighed.

     Jin was well aware about Yoongi’s trouble expressing himself in a way that didn’t make kids cry from his scary, brooding face. He had even helped him on a few occasions when he had to apologize and look like he meant it, (Whether he really did or not) But expressing a feeling like a crush or even love, was different for everybody. 

     “Yoongi, are you trying to ask that Y/n girl out?” Jin inquired, hearing a thing or two about you from when Yoongi dropped hints here and there. “Yes...” Yoongi said, resting his chin on his hand in defeat. “Yoongi, buddy, there’s no “right way” to express your feelings to somebody, you just have to do it in a way that is right for you.” Jin advised. 

“But the way I express things isn’t particularly... Nice,” Yoongi said. 

“Yoongi, if she likes you too she’ll accept that your just you,” Jin stressed, “And if what you tell me about the way she treats you, I’m sure she’ll understand just how hard and serious it is for you to admit something like this,” 

    Maybe Jin was right, you’d get that he’s basically head over heels for you, right? You know how he operates. You always treated him like a normal human with normal expressive capabilities. Okay, he’ll do it. 

      Yoongi can’t do this. What was he thinking? Inviting you over at 9pm to “help him with flowers” was probably the worse idea he’s ever had. You probably think he’s a weirdo. More of a weirdo than he actually is. What is he supposed to do?

      Well, it was too late. Because you just came barging through the door with a bag of takeout and that beautiful, blinding smile on your face. “Yoongs!” You exclaimed, placing down the food and giving him a hug. “Another emergency flower order?” You asked, taking out styrofoam containers and disposable chopsticks. 

      “Um... No. Yes... No,” He said, unusually indecisive. Yoongi sighed, sitting down at the table and taking a huge bite of the food that you handed him. “Yoongs, are you okay?” You asked, brows creased in worry. “I’m fine,” He shrugged, but you knew better.

      “Are you sure? You seem a bit off,” You pushed, hoping he would give you the honest answer. “Mhmm. I just- uh... I’m just tired,” He answered, turning his attention back to his food. You frowned, picking your lukewarm dumpings.

     You liked to call yourself a Yoongi translator. You knew a lot about his body language and usage of words. “I’m fine.” Usually meant just that. He was fine and meant it. But paired with his odd behavior just moments ago, you knew something was up. 

     But you also knew that Yoongi wasn’t an expressive person. He didn’t show powerful emotions very often. Yeah, he’s genuinely smiled before and chuckled. However, that was few and far between. Yoongi wasn’t good at expressing himself, and now that fact only worried you more. 

      “Hey Yoongs, you know the meanings of different flowers right?” You asked, brewing up an idea in your head. “Um, yes. You revealed that embarrassing fact when you snooped through my old books.” He said, raising his eyebrow incredulously. “What are you planning?” He asked. 

      You said nothing, instead opting to grab Yoongi and drag him out into the store. “Tell me how your feeling, but with the flowers,” You said. Yoongi looked at you like you’ve grown 3 head, “What?” He asked, still sounding iconically unimpressed. “I know something’s bothering you. I know it’s hard for you to express things sometimes, so tell me without words,” You explained, urging Yoongi to do as you say. “You don’t know the meanings though,” He argued. “Wrong. I studied them for a month straight to impress you. It’ll be fine,” You gave him a smile, and he felt his resolve breaking. 

     Yoongi thought about it for a second. Originally he was planning on just forgetting his entire plan and watching trash tv with you in the back until the sun came up, but this could work. Does he want it to work? Will you understand what he means when he gives you a pink camellia? Will you be weirded out if he presented you with red chrysanthemum? 

It was worth a shot. 

    Yoongi sighed, giving into your admittedly smart idea. This could work. Yoongi ran around the shop, picking out flowers of different kinds and colors, coming back to you with a messy bouquet. “Okay, lets begin. You won’t have to talk or explain, you can just nod your head,” You said. Yoongi nodded, handing you his first flower. 

A yellow hyacinth. 

“Jealousy? Are you jealous of someone?” You asked, 

Yoongi nodded.

A vine of ivy

“...Friendship? A friend? Are you jealous of a friend?”

Another nod. 

Gardenia

      “Secret love... You have a crush on somebody?” Your heart stung a bit at that one, but you schooled your emotions. This was about Yoongi, not you. “Your jealous of your crush?” You asked, but Yoongi shook his head no. “Your jealous of... your crushes friend...?” You guessed, Yoongi nodded, stoic face still unchanging. 

A red columbine.

    “Anxious, your crush makes you anxious?” You asked. Yoongi didn’t answer right away, but he lifted his hand and made a “sort of” motion. You racked your brain again for a moment. “Having a crush... makes you nervous?” 

Yoongi nodded

“Is it because your bad at expressing yourself?”

Yoongi gave you a ‘duh’ face, holding out another flower. 

 A yellow carnation

“They rejected you?” Yoongi shook his head, pointing back to the red columbine, “Ohhh, you’re scared that they will reject you.” A nod.

      Yoongi had one more flower left, but he didn’t give it to you just yet. He hid it behind his back, away from view, so you opted to cheer him up a bit in hopes that you’ll be able to comfort him enough to express this last thing. “Yoongs, you’re a great dude! Anybody would be lucky to have you! Sure, maybe your not as dramatic as me, but you care in your own way. That’s all that matters,” You said, giving him a smile. 

     Yoongi looked away from you to the side. He wasn’t usually a nervous person. Why is he so nervous? Why is this the one emotion that’s cripplingly strong? He could do it. He didn’t even have to say anything, just hand you the goddamn flower. He’s psyching himself out. Quickly, he thrusted the flower towards you without thinking.

Chucking, you took it in your hands

A red rose.

I love you.

      “Yoongi, you should give this to your crush, not me,” You chuckled, but Yoongi didn’t move, just stared at you with unimpressed eyes. “Yoongs, you don’t mean...” “I love you,” He blurted out, a soft blush dusting his cheeks. “Y-You do?” You asked. 

One last nod.

      “Sup loser,” You lovingly greeted your grumpy boyfriend, giving him a kiss on the cheek. Yoongi rolled his eyes, wrapping an arm around your waist from where he was sat in his work chair, meticulously finishing up his last order of the day. “And you claim you love me when you treat me like that,” He said, voice gruff and scratchy from not using it for a while. 

      “Yeah, yeah, I love you too,” You chuckled. Yoongi bent down under the table and grabbed a flower, wordlessly handing it to you. “A red camellia?” You asked, taking a whiff of its pleasing aroma. “I’m expressing,” He said, and you nodded, understanding. 

     Yoongi’s gotten a bit better with expressing himself, but it can still be hard for him. As a solution, he talks to you in flowers when he wants to say something but can’t form the words. “You’re the flame in my heart too Yoongs,” You smiled, kissing the top of his head

Yoongi might not know the exact moment he fell in love with you. All he knew is that it happened swiftly and silently.

Like a zephyr on a warm day.

What is Florida Water and Why Do We Want It?

Florida water is a traditional American cologne water recipe adopted by southern practitioners of the hoodoo and voodoo tradition to cleanse the home and use in rituals. Originally named as the American version of Eau de Cologne in the 1800’s.

Its strong magical properties have made it an essential in Hoodoo, Voodoo, Santeria, Wicca, and Witchcraft practices.

Florida water can be used for cleansing (its effect is very similar to smudging), Use it to clean your altar space.

As a spell component.

Just opening a bottle and leaving it in a room is said to purify the air of bad spirits and energies.

You can put it in a spray bottle as a spiritual “disinfectant,” anoint doors and windows with it. Pour it into a bowl and place it on the altar as an offering, as a thank you gift to the Spirit(s)s/God(s) you are working with.

Use it in your bath by adding a few drops in the water to cleanse your aura and rejuvenate the senses.

Cleanse your magical items and crystals with a cloth and Florida Water.

Put some Florida Water in your palms and clap them together and rub to raise vibrations and to give you a quick energy boost.

Use it to dress candles for magical spells that include protection, communication with spirits, cleanings, breaking hexes and curses, removing malicious magic.

Florida water can quickly re-balance your vibration and is the perfect “chill out” after a long, stressful day. Grab that spray bottle and spray away! (Just be sure not to get it in your eyes.)

There are dozens of recipes for Florida water online, I have found a few great ones and you can customize this recipe according to what you have on hand.

Despite the name, it is not a water-based potion. Most people use vodka to steep the herbs and flowers. All you need is the cheap stuff. You can use top-shelf vodka to make this, but it’s just a waste of money, as it really doesn’t make much difference in the final result.

What you need: 16 ounces Vodka or 2 cups.

Choose at least two items from each group: While selecting the materials to use, allow your intentions to guide you.

Aromatic greens: 4 parts fresh mint 4 parts fresh basil 4 parts fresh rosemary

Florals: 3 parts rose petals (fresh) 3 parts jasmine (dried or fresh) 3 parts lavender (dried)

Citrus: 2 parts lemon peel 2 parts orange peel 2 parts lime peel

Spice: 1-part allspice berries 1-part cinnamon sticks 1-part cloves

Put the vodka on low heat. Add the dry ingredients and allow them to simmer for 5-10 minutes. Add the remaining ingredients. Simmer on low for an addition 40 minutes.

I am also going to add a no cook recipe. This recipe is just a guide… Smell each oil before adding it to your glass container. Let your spirit enlighten you if you should add more or less than what’s suggested

You’ll need: 16 oz of vodka 3-5 tablespoons of rosewater 8 drops of lavender essential oil 10 drops of lemon essential oil 10 drops of orange essential oil 5 drops of bergamot essential oil 5 drops of cinnamon essential oil 5 drops of clove essential oil Fresh rose petals & fresh rosemary (optional)

If you wish to add stones, you can use any of these:

Amethyst Smokey Quartz Rose Quartz Quartz Black Obsidian

I am also going to add a Florida Water Diffuser Blend! (Do not add vodka to your diffuser)

This is said to help aid in headaches. Let the purifying scent of Florida Water fill your home with this sweet, warm, and uplifting diffuser blend.

1 drop bergamot 4 drops orange 3 drop lemon 2 drop cinnamon 1 drop lavender 1 drop rosemary

This recipe is the more “traditional” one.

Ingredients: 1/2 cup dried sweetgrass 1/2 cup dried lavender 1/2 cup dried sage 1/2 cup dried cedar 6 cups of Vodka

Directions:

Gather your herbs, give thanks to them for their use.

Add the vodka to it and store in a glass jar at room temperature.

Keep the content for 14 days. You can place it outside to infuse with either a full or new moon.

Use a paper towel or cheese cloth to strain out the liquid from the herbs into a clean, preferably glass container. Cover the lid tightly and store until when needed.

PS - there are MANY recipes online, these were just a few I found…MOST were the traditional recipe as written above.

https://forum.spells8.com/t/what-is-florida-water-and-why-do-we-want-it/1257

Lilium

Summary: Although a witch, you weren’t the one to really summon demons, but your friends had insisted that you could use an extra pair of helping hands to help you with your run-down hut. After fixing the mess of a first attempt fail, you were expecting to summon a lower gremlin. What or who you didn’t expect, was to summon the demon king of hell, keeper of souls, in searching for something that only you could do perfectly.

In explanation of the fic: Each powerful demon has his/her own hell, and in each hell has layers, like onions. So although reader didn’t summon Lucifer, she summoned a pretty powerful Japanese demon who’s element of hell follows close to that of Greek mythology because Rita liked the Persephone vibes. As for the soul thing, those are the souls who just...wind up at his place.  

Title name: Lilies are a flower that represent not only unity, love, and devotion, but also the flowers are most often associated with funerals, they symbolize that the soul of the departed has received restored innocence after death. Persephone held lilies in her hands/arms as she was take away by Hades, the flowers turning white as they fell to the ground. Ancient(?) Romans would stuff pillows full of the flowers, the fragrance perfect for love-making ;)  

Notes: @youtubequeens, or Rita, requested the beautiful idea of Tai-chan being a demon king in need of something that only the reader can do, and we brainstormed together on the setting and the plot, so the credit goes to her, go ahead and check her on Tumblr <3

Warnings not in order: Cursing, hand cutting for rituals (so blood), being void of a soul (cause, demons), summoning demons, minions, souls of the damned, smut, deals with the devil, having your soul taken and turning into a demon, and hellish stuff.  

Tag: @youtubequeens

   “I mean, look at this place, Sister! It’s a dump! C’mon, pleeeease!” Your friend begged. She, along a few others belonged to a nearby coven. Although good friends, they delved into the darker aspects of witchcraft, such as demon summoning, as you stuck to herbal remedies, readings, and a little bit of scrying. Although not against the art, you weren’t well acquainted, and a little nervous.

“You don’t even need a contract! Just bind whatever poor little goblin or gremlin to you, and...you know, have it help you collect your herbs! I know, binding seems a little much, and it’s difficult to get out of one, but they can’t hurt you when bound to you.” Another friend piped up, trying further to convince you. Your gaze fell onto the chalked-up pentagram within your home, surrounded by salt and melting red candles, looking innocently out of place, almost.

“Alright, fine.” You huffed, causing squeals of victorious joy from the gaggle of girls. It wouldn’t hurt, you thought. You lived in the outskirts of the village, within a rugged hut that you called a “store”. Although it was a popular little town, you weren’t doing to well. Your place was falling apart, herbs were harder to find, and although tolerated, your witchy status had alerted and unnerved everyone, except your little coven of friends, who had hidden themselves away deeper into the forest.

Your life sucked, and with your pet familiar, the two of you kept to yourselves as you brewed supper more than potions and remedies, your Sisters popping in from time to time, checking up on you.

Your little orange rabbit snuggled into your lap as you repeated the words in Latin, trying to spark hellfire into the pentagram. No such luck.

“Aw! Is it not working? I’m suuuure my aunt gave me the right spell!” Your main friend huffed into a pout, the two other girls following her example of disappointment.

“Perhaps another time? It’s getting late, girls.” You admitted. Truthfully, you didn’t want to have to deal with more pressure, and your familiar was getting unnerved by the whole thing.

“You’re right. It was fun hanging out with you, Sis! Wish we could do this more, but you know, coven stuff.” The sweet friend smiled softly as she hugged you tightly.

“We’ll be busy, you know, coven stuff. Auntie wants us to clean out the nasty pots, restock the potions, and go on a wild, exciting adventure of grabbing rare herbs, so we don’t know when that’s going to take. Ugh, I’m not leaving, yet, and I miss you, already!” The leader of the girls whined, dramatically throwing her arm over her eyes. You couldn’t help but giggle.

      “Stay safe, okay? We’ll visit to check up on you. Give Lottie some extra treats for us!” The third one grinned, petting the rabbit. With further words, they left, leaving you warm, yet saddened and alone.  

 Many times, the fellow women of the coven had offered a place for you, so that you wouldn’t be so alone, and you appreciated that, but you knew that the coven wasn’t one for you. Although not evil, you didn’t want to join for a multitude of reasons. They had strict rules and regulations, following their leader without question as they sacrificed time and energy for reasons that the girls, although close, didn’t tell you what for.

You couldn’t help but feel that it was rather sketchy. Your eyes laid upon the pentagram as the thought crossed your mind. You weren’t fully against summoning things from the underworld, it was an aged old practice that was held with reverence from generation to generation. You held Charlotte close to you, the rabbit sniffing at the air, scenting out scents that your human nose could not deter.

“I smell nothing out of the ordinary. The salt is too strong.” Her voice echoed in your head, and you nodded your thanks. You were curious, you admitted. You didn’t really have much things to do, other than clean your stew pot, tend to the moon water, and pluck the petals off of the dried out roses.

“Something has to give, in order for you to receive.” You said aloud, the wheels turning in your head. A certain flower could help, you thought suddenly, looking at the container of dried out white lilies. You opened the jar spreading out the white funeral flowers among the edges of the Celtic symbol. The scent was almost too pure for such a deed, you couldn’t help but think.  

Carving a fool-proof plan to mind, you placed Charlotte down, and grabbed a small blade used for cutting fruits from your kitchen. The little rabbit opted to say nothing, trusting you as her witch to do what you think was best.  

You winced as you sliced a small cut into your palm, letting the little blood droplets to drip onto each flower, avoiding the salt as best as you could. Picking up a slip of paper in which had the summoning spell, you began reading the Latin out loud as you channeled your energy at the edge of the pentagram, instead of in between it.

Your breath hitched as bright orange hellfire sparked, not going past the salt as it crackled at the precious crystals and parts of the flowers. You continued speaking the verses, watching in awe as the odd underworldly flames refused to consume, instead it burned brighter at each verse.

As you finished the last sentence with a final quip, you jumped in surprise as the flames reached almost as high as the ceiling, whirling dangerously as it let out smoke and sparks, fizzling as a tall figure behind the flames seemed to crawl from the little circle, you couldn’t see who or what it was, but you were coughing as the unnatural smoke outweighed the dying fire, floating heavily away as you looked up to see your first summon.

You were choked up, not knowing what to say as your eyes beheld the sight when the smoke finally cleared from the deadened flames.  

 A demon, and not just anything in the ordinary of what you knew about them. He was tall, as tall as the men in your village, and almost resembled a human. His pointed ears were adorned with little ringlets of gold, matching the glittering bracelets and bands that were worn upon his ankles, horns, wrists, arms, and a swishing pointed tail. His attire was something you’d never really seen within your village, but you knew what it was due to your books.

He wore dark orange attire that almost resembled a Doric chiton, except the one he wore, hardly left anything to the imagination, but you weren’t focused on that, right now. What you were focused on, was the demon’s scowl of frustration and annoyance, aimed at you as his tail swished and thumped angrily at the ground, reminding you of an angry cat.  

“This fuckin’ circle’s too small! And the hell do you want? I’m a very busy man, ya know!” He growled out, taking in your smaller frame with displeasure. You were surprised by his accent, it was gruff, yes, but it was new, something that you’ve never heard, before.

“I was trying to summon something else.” You stammered, and he faltered in an angry shock, before narrowing his eyes at you.  

“Tch! Who do you think you are, summonin’ a king of hell, tellin’ me that you were tryin’ to summon somethin’ else?” He bared his teeth, and you could see little tusks peeking out from underneath his bottom lip. You gave him your name as you found yourself blurting out who knows what.

“I need a um...helper. I needed somebody to look after my hut while I collected herbs...make sure that the villagers don’t torch down my shop.” The excuse slipped out as you stood your ground. It was partially true. His stance relaxed a bit at your words.

“A magic user, huh?” He asked slowly, behavior sharply and swiftly contrasting from his angry tone, as he rested his chin onto his hand in processing the thought. Then his eyes moved onto yours. He unnerved you.

“What about it?” You asked, and he indulged you.  

“Normally, mortals such yerself can summon us with ease, only because ya need a contract. You, lil’ witch, were trying to find a binding partner, which uses magic. I may have use for you, yet.” His attitude shifted, and you couldn’t help but relax a little at the honeyed tone. What was with this demon?

“What are you talking about?” You bit out. He let out a victorious grin.

“Yer magic was so strong, it summoned me. A king of hell, a keeper of souls, n’ lord of demons. Bindin’ magic can only get ya so far, it’s pretty much unheard of a mortal summoning somethin’ greater than an ogre, or an oni.” Rolled off of his tongue, eyes now glinting with something that you couldn’t pinpoint. You were surprised. A king of hell? It did explain his jewelry and finery, you silently pinpointed. Despite the shock, you still needed to ask more questions while he was in the mood to be generous with his answers.  

“So...you’re needing me to summon demons up for you from the surface?” You offered, and he looked at you with surprise.

“No….I need you to give up your soul, and live with me in hell.” He grinned at the tight atmosphere that he was causing, you froze.

“Tell me, why would I ever want to do that? What do you even want?” You grounded out the last bit, still confused, and getting weary. Your summon had taken a toll on your body, and now you were feeling the lull of sleep due to sapped magic.  

“I have two main underlings who are like sons to me, but the three of us can only do so much in carin’ for the undead. Ya see, hell’s a very powerful place, in which it can supply a witch’s magic with ease. Ya know where I’m getting’ at?” He drawled out, and you nodded a little.

“I think somebody of yer stature could really hold the forte down. All you have to do, is just be there, n’ yer magic can calm down n’ soothe the restless dead, making this job a lot easier. Since yer magic is powerful, it’ll be extra helpful n’ dosing the souls an’ lesser devils, down. You give me what I need, an’ I can give you what you need.” He purred at the end.

The thought of being useful did appeal to you, it’s what you ever wanted. Yes, it was a terrible decision and you’ll probably end up being burned, anyway, but you remembered that a bound demon or devil cannot hurt you, no matter how powerful they were. If they hurt you, they hurt themselves.

“I’m not going to give up my soul to burn forever, to live with a demon that I’m not bound to.” You countered, and his eye twitched

“First of all, Sweetheart, my realm is in layers. Where you, I, an’ my boys live, is an environment that resembles your realm, but better. Secondly, you will be bound to me, but not as a servant or master, but as an equal. Somethin’ akin to…” He let the sentence hang as he smiled smugly at you, brows furrowed with cockiness, leering at you from his height.

“Akin to?” You egged him, and he let the rest rolled off of his tongue without hesitation.  

“My queen.”

Your brain screeched to a halt.

He laughed at your stunned expression.

“What? Ya expected me to make ya my lil’ minion? No, no, Honey, somebody with yer power, and the sheer gall to stare into my face while arguin’ with me, has already earned my respect. Yeah, you’ll have to turn into a demon, but you’ll be immortal, n’ you can visit yer friends n’ family as long as you like, if you’re powerful as me. Which, you will be.” He threw in his own bait, trying to lure you in.

Understandably, you were stunned. You just summoned a devil. Who wanted you to rule hell with him.  And to become an immortal mistress of the night who can help rule over the undead while living forever with him in his realm.

It was tempting, yes, but you were not one who really chased power. You told him, and his eyebrows furrowed, as if thinking further ways to lure you in, and to be honest? You found that you didn’t mind being swayed by a literal handsome devil.  

“Well, think about it this way, Princess, I don’t know you well, but you live in a run-down hut, the peasants fear you to the point of possible violence, and you’ve turned your attention to demon summoning. We’re both desperate for somethin’.” He looked at you thoughtfully, tail swishing as you processed it. Hell.

“What about my familiar?” You were caving in, and his gazing expression broke out into a victorious grin as his eyes slide to your rabbit.

“Sure, the lil thing can come, too. Familiars exist in hell, too, but not the cute lil’ rabbit ones. Might be a nice change to have one. Wipe away the salt, n’ we can get started.” He acted as if he had already won, and to be honest, he did.  

It was too good of an opportunity to really pass up, and you didn’t really have anybody, and good decisions in your tired state were lacking. You wiped away the salt, and he sighed with relief as he stepped out.

“Man, that tiny circle was exhaustin’ to be in. Now, let’s take you home.” He tucked a fray hair behind your ear. Smiling a devil’s smile, he held you against him, and you tried to keep your cheeks from flushing as he began a mantra of a spell in his native tongue, leaving you awed that it wasn’t the usual Latin. You couldn’t keep your eyes open as a wave of exhaustion and tiredness wafted over you, and your eyes slid shut, darkness over-taking you, but not before hearing a dark chuckle.  

…………..

Warm. You were so warm. You opened your eyes, only to be greeted by a bare chest. Your eyes widened as now you were fully conscious, furiously wondering on what the hell was going on.

“So, yer finally awake.” He hummed, and you jolted slightly, looking up at his face with pure surprise, he smiled at you as he held you close to his chest. It didn’t take you long to realize that this was his bedroom, and your mind whirled, vaguely remembering prior events. Sitting up, he whined at the loss of contact, but you paid no mind.

The room was lit up by the flickering familiar orange flames emitting from the white candles slowly melting on top of his dresser, creating a safe, sleepy, and an almost romantic atmosphere. The bed was huge, and took up a good portion of his room, but there was still enough space for some furniture such as the dresser, and a large cage. You sighed with relief, seeing the familiarity of Charlotte within, the little rabbit’s eyes now glowed with luminescence, as if she were something else. It would make sense, your familiar was no longer a normal familiar, since she was in hell, with you.    

You looked down, feeling warmed metal against your skin, and that’s when you’ve noticed your new attire. It was a chiton, like his, although a little looser, and you wore the same amount of matching golden jewelry. Your ears stung a little at the newer piercings, but you didn’t pay that much mind as you couldn’t help but think that he went out of his way to undress you and doll you up to match him. You gave him a dirty look, and he grinned in retaliation, enjoying the flushed and guffawed expression that marred your face.

“If ya’re gonna be the part, might as well look like it. I didn’t undress you fully or touch you too inappropriately, if that makes ya feel better.” He shrugged. Although you admit that he sort of have a point, still!

“What happened to me?” You opted to say instead, and he sat up along with you, you jumping slightly as his tail curled around your waist, acting as a small comfort.  

“You’re a demon. I took yer soul, and bound it to me. Wish ya could’ve seen it, ‘s so pretty an’ pure, an’ it fizzled nicely within me. Was the only way for ya to come down here, sorry.” He hummed, rubbing his cheek against yours in seemingly affection, eyes glittering as he let you process the words and his bizarre behavior.  

Demon. Were you dead? You had no heartbeat, did you? You let your hand rest against your pulse point, surprised by the soft fluttering. You looked at him with question.

“Demon, not fully dead, but not fully alive, either, an’ yeah, you’ll look forever like a human, since ya weren’t born like us. I took yer soul, and gave you one of the multiple that belongs to me. ‘S how we tie our lives together fer eternity, as if exchangin’ rings. You’re mine, and I’m yours. Romantic, isn’t it?”

“I have so many questions.” You murmured, instead. He smiled.  

“We have an eternity together, I’ll answer all of ‘em. For now, c’mon. Lemme show ya what yer magic is doing right now at this moment.” He stood up from the bed, offering you his hand, pulling you up to him as you accepted it. He opened the drapes to his balcony’s windowed doors, revealing an ashen gray sunlight that paled in comparison to the candles. Letting you take Charlotte out of her cage, he opened the doors as the two of you stepped outside.

You looked on in awe.

The balcony to your new home, an ashen gray-stoned castle, had a short amount of steps that led into a gigantic garden. You stared in amazement and joy at the flowering plants and trees that grew in your former realm. There were so many plants, you couldn’t name all of them, but you didn’t mind as you looked on in the neatly organized forage of a garden, enjoying the array of greens and different colors of flowering foliage. Your familiar squirmed, wanting to enjoy the plants and be free, and so you let her, knowing that she’ll be smart enough to stay within eyesight.    

“Beautiful, ain’t it? It didn’t look like this ‘fore you were here. Sure, some plants such as pomegranates n’ ferns grew, but since it’s such a deadened place, nothin’ really grew. I tried for centuries, n’ no such luck. It’s so beautiful ‘cause of yer magic.” His voice broke out of your thoughts, and you listened carefully as a hint of sorrow passed over his features.

“Pomegranates…?” Your mind raced to the odd familiarity of the setting. Greek clothing, the underworld, and now pomegranates? He leaned down and smirked at you, bringing your hand to his lips.

“Heh, because, ya know…” He grinned, enjoying the way you stared up at him in disbelief.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Can’t say that I don’t have a sense of humor.” He chuckled, and you felt yourself relax, thinking of ways to steer the conversation into another turn.

“You really like this place, don’t you...um?” You wanted to curse yourself. You went through a psychological loop in becoming a queenly wife to a stranger, no less a king of demons, and you didn’t even know his name. How forgetful were you?

Ignoring your inner dread, he grinned as he held your hand within his, rubbing his thumb over your palm.

“Taishiro. Yeah, I rarely visit earth ‘cause all the shit I have to do, n’ so this is my favorite place to relax. Thanks to you, it’s blossoming quite well.” He admitted, pecking your cheek, tail flicking with delight at the prospect of your face pink with the affection. Oh, you were so cute, he crooned.

“What about the dead, Taishiro?” You wondered as you tried out, the foreign language rolling off of your tongue. He looked at you with interest, liking the way his name melded to your own dialect.  

“I’ll take ya on a little tour, how about that? Show ya what’s happenin’ and yer new home. N’ later, we can relax in our garden, take a lil’ break to enjoy our Honeymoon.” He purred, and you felt butterflies flutter nicely within your stomach and chest as you nodded.

“Yer familiar can stay outside. It never rains here, an’ she’s not really...alive, anymore. She’ll be fine.” He looked at the little rabbit that was chewing on a blade of grass, absentmindedly paying attention as you agreed, knowing that she’ll be safe.  

Without further ado, he took you back inside of the castle, beginning the day.

……...            

       It was obvious that you were still in shock, and that this wasn’t a dream. He opted to say nothing about your state, as he introduced you to the castle, and the many rooms within. Of course the first thing he had offered to show you, was the dining room, stating that you were probably hungry, and a nice breakfast had been made for you. You blushed furiously, not acquainted with such treatment, and he grinned, pinching your cheek and you huffed at him.

“C’mon, Sweetcheeks, the staff’s all here, n’ they’ve been waitin’ to see what’s been in my bedroom fer about two days.” The sentence had surprised you.

“Two days?” You looked at him owlishly, and he shrugged.

“Turnin’ a human into somethin’ else, takes a toll on the receiver. I’m surprised that it was that short, to be honest.”  

 You walked along side him as the interior looked unique and odd, nothing of it that you’ve seen before. Colors of orange, gold, and red melded into a comfortable, royal setting as the hallways twisted. Each one sported different types of framed pictures and paintings of animals, spirits, and demons of which were new to your eyes.

 Taishiro smiled at your awed and innocent wondering as he began talking, introducing you further into his world, entrancing and entrapping you into the Greek and Japanese themes that he so loved, and you couldn’t help but feel fitted in comfortably within your new home as the two of you continued on-wards towards the dining room, your stomach feeling empty.  

You talked along with him, trying to learn and get used to the idea that yes, this was your husband. Your demon husband who was oddly being affectionate with you, despite his earlier, snappish attitude. Although, you were not minding it, preferring the brushing of hands, eyes meeting yours, and little touches, rather than the first thoughts of possibly burning in hell for eternity. He intrigued you, leaving you to wonder on how were you this lucky and yet foolish. All too soon, however, he had guided you into his favorite place that was second to the garden.  

 The room was beautiful and spacious, with multiple dining ware, vases of freshly cut flowers, and cloths laid neatly upon the long table. The staff were well dressed in their own lesser version of Ionic chitons, small bands of gold littered their collars and wrists, but nothing too extravagant like you and your husband’s. He sat you down, the smell of bacon, eggs, and biscuits wafted deliciously to you from the silver plate sitting in front of you. You could feel your mouth all but water as your stomach grumbled with an awakening realization. Taishiro sat next to you, chuckling at your eagerness.  

“I know that yer not human, anymore, but we demons can live on an’ indulge on such human foods. Thank our chefs fer goin’ out onto the earthen realm, n’ huntin’ down the stuff.”

“Thank you.” Came out, and who you guessed were the chefs, bowed with gratitude. You tried not to shovel the food greedily into your mouth, paying mind to try to eat with grace. You blanched, feeling a bit of the egg yolk dribble down your chin, and you jumped as Taishiro didn’t miss a beat in taking the opportunity to swipe it from your face with his forefinger, eyeing you with a dark look mixed in with a cocky smirk as he began suckling on said finger, rolling his tongue around it, and pulling it out of his mouth with a wet pop.

You felt as if your face, chest, and ears were burning as he then groaned.  

“Delicious.”

You weren’t burning in hell with actual fire, so you guessed he had to come up with other ways, you guessed.  

The two of you finished in silence, him grinning with knowing want at your expressions, liking the way how easy and fun it was to just tease you. After saying your formal thanks to the staff, the two of you continued onward.

 Most of the rooms, other than the main bedroom, that he had led you, were guest rooms, and the others were sleeping headquarters for the staff and his underling sons. Speaking of which, it did not take you too long to be introduced to them. Cue in bright laughter, oddly mixed in with a rather gloomy aurora caught your attention, and lo and behold, down the hall is where they stood.

“Oooh! Is this her, Tai-chan?!” Noticing your presences, a red-haired young man turned his attention towards you. He nor the other young man were dressed as glamorous as the two of you, but they were unique. The red haired boy, along with the black haired one, both had pointed ears, but that’s where the line was drawn. Red had scaled, burgundy wings, furled neatly behind his back as his reptilian tail wagged slowly, he sported a sharp-toothed grin and radiated sunlight.

The gloomy man had a crystal ball within his clawed hands, cape and hood cloaking his figure as he stared at you.

“Who else would it be?” He muttered slowly, sarcasm lost on the other.

“Eijirou’s the dragon, an’ Tamaki’s the sorcerer. Boys, this is yer Queen.” Taishiro made a short introduction.  

“Nice to meet you!” As well as “Hello.” Greeted you, and you mimicked their greetings, surprised by the welcome. You replied your own greetings, feeling a bit nervous.

“Tamaki, would ya show ‘er the souls? I’d like for her to know what’s on the lower layer.”

“Sure.” Without further question, the scryer demon began murmuring his own spell as you stared into the crystal ball, watching with amazement at the sheer focus that was being put into it as it began to reveal answers to your questioning mind.

“See what yer magic’s been doin? Told ya, Nightingale, yer magic’s one of a kind, an’ yer not focusing on it, right now, but see what it’s doin’?” Taishiro gestured towards the mass of ghostly shadows within the ball. They seemed still, as if time had stopped them.

“Rather than deafening screams, wailing, and clattering of chains, we have this. They’re calm, awaiting to be reincarnated. It’s the most quiet that we’ve heard in centuries. None of us has yet the need to intervene and waste our time.” Tamaki opted to explain for you, a small hint of a smile graced his features, while Eijirou smiled warmly.

“It eases their suffering, too! Your magic to them is like a lullaby! You can’t hear it, but others can! It’s why Tai-chan’s been so calm-

“Anyway! Let’s go to the garden, yer not too tired, right? We can continue this later.” Taishiro interrupted swiftly, ruffling each boy’s heads as he gripped your hand rather gently, tugging you along back towards the familiarity of the garden, as you swore you heard two chuckles behind you.

……..

         “There is a teeny, tiny detail that I need to explain.” Taishiro dragged you further into the depths of the green foliage, slowly but surely darkening out the sunlight as you couldn’t help but shiver a little due to the anticipation. Where was he leading you? You guessed that he could see in the dark, but you couldn’t, feeling yourself stumble a little.  

“Taishiro, I can’t see.” You offered, and you heard a chuckled huff.

“Guess I gotta carry you, hm?” The sentence was your only warning. You let out a shrill yelp, feeling him lift you up with little to no effort into his arms. You liked the way how he gripped you, and seeped into his warmth as he continued walking to who knows where, and oddly enough, you trusted him.

“In order to fully complete the bond,” He startled you, as he finally broke the silence in what had seemed minutes. Setting you down, he snapped his fingers. Orange floating, flickering lights that resembled candles appeared right after, dimly illuminating the area around them. Your eyes adjusted, taking in the scenery that the lights were willing to show. It was a spacious area of smoothed down grass, white lilies and red roses crowned around it, giving it a magical, romantic feeling.

“you need to finally receive part of my power. Sure there’s multiple ways of sharing a mate’s essence, I just thought that this would be more fun.” He gave you a wink, and you felt your heartbeat quicken with a little nervousness. Yet, you found yourself not really surprised. He was your husband, after all. The thoughts of you becoming a demon, him being your mate, and that you ruled souls along with your new family, had been whirling around your head silently. It was only natural to continue, right?

“Only if you take the lead.” You offered, and he smiled, leaning down to finally mesh his lips upon yours in a secured kiss, tail swishing wildly as if joyed. Although a little snappy, he was also sweet and devilish in a teasing, fun way. You guessed that he was probably stressed from working and worrying too hard, thus you didn’t really hold it against him.

“Alright.” He led you to the clearing, laying down as he pulled you down on top, you basically straddling him, heat creeping up to your neck and ears as his clothed hardness poked at your equally clothed entrance. Not bothering to take any clothes off, he rocked his hips, groaning with guttural want as you let out a whimper, feeling the silk cloth of your clothing stimulate your clit as he rutted lazily up against it. His eyes focused up at you as he held your waist tightly, helping you rock your hips in sync with his as his tail rubbed itself against your sensitive, itching to feel you.  

“Can ya smell yer own arousal? Mixin’ in nicely with our flowers? Ya can cum anytime ya want too, okay?” He brought you down to kiss your clavicle and neck, your hands gripped his hair as your fingers threaded though the soft tresses and horns, keening as his own teeth latched onto the juncture of your throat as he suckled, minding his bottom tusks as he bit harshly, kissing the bruising skin with tenderness. You choked out a whimper as your hips bucked a little more roughly at his actions, causing him to groan.  

You could feel yourself clench with want as his precum and your wetness soaked through your undergarments, creating a slicking friction as the wet squelching noises echo through the dimly lit darkness. You looked down at him through lidded eyes, eyebrows furrowing as you bit your bottom lip, noticing that he mimicked your expression, if it wasn’t for the gritting teeth, You liked this side of him, too, you thought through your itching need to cum.  

He could tell that you were getting desperate, hell, he was, too. Yet, he wanted you to come before he did. Taking both hands away from your waist, he placed one underneath your ridden up clothing, and another cupped one of your bouncing breasts, thumb rubbing roughly over a nipple. Taking pleasure in the way that you were staring down at him, swallowing thickly, he let his hand slip into your soiled undergarments, making sure that every time your hips bucked forwards, you could feel his fingers brush against your clit.  

“T-Taishiro~!” You gasped, and he moaned, slipping two fingers in as he continued bucking, envying the digits as they stretched your tight and wet heat. Your juices were now dribbling down, creating more of a mess as his now four fingers pumped in and out of you, crooking them and stretching your walls with a gentle fervor as his dick slid between the folds of your labia, continuing to rub against your clothed clit. He ate up your desperate expression, knowing that he was no better as the both of you were about to cum. He picked up his pace as your face was buried in his shoulder, panting loudly and letting out breaths of need.  

“Y-ya know, I haven’t done this in centuries. ‘M gunna fuck you so good. Would ya like that?” He nipped at your ear, and you whined wantonly as you felt yourself tighten around his fingers, gripping them like a lifeline and he hissed as you came, cum soaking and dripping everywhere as you stilled, fingers grasped in his hair tightly, and damn if he loved that feeling. He stilled, awaiting for you to recover as you panted, lying against his chest as tears and a little bit of drool temporarily stained your flushed face. He kissed you softly, removing his soaked fingers from your fluttering heat, lust boiling within him as he imagined his cock in there.

“How do ya want this? Missionary and doggy are pretty good positions for first timers, either way, I’m going to claim you, Sweetheart.”

You looked at him through your wet lashes, as if contemplating on what you want.

“What do you want?” You asked instead, and the question caught him off guard, but he grinned.

“You.” He didn’t hesitate.

“Then have me.” You felt a blush at your own statement, but you really wanted to continue.

“Ya sure?”

“Anyway you can, Taishiro. I trust you, you’re not going to hurt me.” At this, his expression softened as he then kissed you with such a tenderness.

“I won’t, but my instincts are screamin’ at me to take ya right here on the ground.”

“Then do so. We have an eternity together, right?” You pondered, and he frowned a little.

“For your-

“I trust you.” You interrupted, looking at him dead in the eyes, as if challenging him. He couldn’t help but smile at your spitfire attitude.

“As my Queen commands.” He kissed your cheek.

It was the only warning you really had, but your blood was on fire with heat and want, and truthfully, if he wanted to hurt you, he had every opportunity to after you wiped away the salt from the pentagram.

Shedding off the both your clothing, the both of you stared unabashed at each other, a red flush tinted his face, and you were blushing furiously. You weren’t really acquainted with seeing an angry-looking cock, veins visible as a drool of precum leaked onto the ground, but here it was, twitching slightly at your intense gaze. The golden glints caught your eye, and your eyes widened with surprise.

“Y-you have piercings-!” You guffawed as he laughed.

“Oh! You’re so cute! Easy to reach’n stimulate, Babe.” He winked and you swallowed thickly as he then decided that enough time was spent staring, and now he wanted to touch you, more.  

 He placed both garbs neatly on the ground as he gently maneuvered you onto them, your stomach and breasts were cushioned as you gripped the clothing, knees on the cool grass as you basically laid out bare for him.  

 You jolted as you felt his hot, fat tongue lick a long stripe along your leaking sex and clit, his hands gripped your thighs, squeezing them gently as he decided to make a meal out of you, first. You could only lay there, whining and panting, trying to move your hips in his tight grasp as he licked you with fervor, taking extra time to suckle at your clit, chuckling as he also sopped up the extra slick running down your thighs, kissing them gently and you moaned.

“Taishiro!” You whined at him, silently pleading for him to get to the main event.

“Oh? Ya wanna be fully tainted by the devil?” He purred, and you nodded. You knew that he had to take care of his need, too, and he didn’t admit it, but he was getting a little impatient.  

“Easy there, Hon. If anythin’ bothers you, say somethin’, and we’ll stop, m’kay?” He finished, getting an affirmative from you, as he then grabbed his dick, leading it to your sopping entrance, and pushing a little bit in. He was amazed on how the muscles to your opening were loose, letting the head of his dick catch the rim, slipping a little inside.

He froze when you froze at the sudden prodding, opting instead to move his hips rather gently, not going further as you got use to the feeling of what’s already inside you. He decided that rubbing your clit was a good idea, and was rewarded as he felt you loosen up a bit, knees spreading out further as you bit your lip, feeling the gentle rubbing of calloused fingers.

“C-continue.” You murmured, feeling the other piercings now slide past the muscle. It was a delicious feeling of being stretched and stimulated, feeling yourself loosen as you took more of him in.

“Almost in, Sweetheart.” He murmured gently, his other hand rubbing soothing circles between your shoulder blades. Finally, he moved the last couple of inches inside of your burning heat as he refused to move, letting the both of you take in the feeling of being joined together.

“Ya alright?” He grunted, silently pleading for you to give your affirmative for him to move. He was relieved when you nodded, amazed at himself for gently rocking his hips as you were basically sucking him in. You were in a daze, feeling every inch, vein, and piercing churn your inside walls as your breasts rubbed against the silken clothing, clit still being stimulated as he took care of you.

“Y-you can mo-ve fa-faster, T-Taishiro.” It sounded more needy than you liked to admit, but he didn’t seem to mind. He leaned down, resting his chin against your shoulder as he basically enveloped you from above, one hand rubbing your clit, and the other holding himself from fully crushing you as he let his hips buck with more fervor, both of you seeing each other’s needy expressions.

“Takin’ me in-oh! So well, Darlin’. Ya’re s-suckin’ me in so-damn! Nicely. Don’t know ya that well, but ‘m so fond an’ proud of ya.” He kissed your cheek tenderly, contrast to his hips positioning themselves in a new angle in a snapping motion. Your head spun with stars as you felt the piercing on his tip, hit something inside you, letting out a “do that again!”. He would chuckle, if that statement didn’t turn him on so much.

“Y-you’re doing such a g-good job, too! Ah! Like y-you a lo-ot!” You admitted, trying your best to return such actions of affections. He rested his cheek against your cheek, taking his free hand to interlace his fingers with yours as he felt you tighten when he rolled his hips, aiming for the spot that kept making you clench.  

“’C’mon, cum fer me, Baby. Lemme feel ya milk a century’s worth dry.” He growled into your ear, eager at the prospect as much as you were as you suddenly stiffened, your walls tightening around him desperately as you let out a whine, chasing the fleeting feeling as you reached down and gripped his fingers onto your clit.

“T-Taishiro! O-overstim-ula-t-ed!” You cried out, tears pooling around your eyes in frustration as your body kept clenching around him and the electricity of your high was going haywire, consuming you into a mess.

“J-just a lil! More!” He tore his hand away, sitting up as he gripped one hand on your waist tightly, and the other pressed down on your back, snapping his hips, churning your sensitive walls with an animalisitc frenzy. You could only whine, laying there and taking it as your mind was in a blank state as you felt him get bigger, suddenly. To your relief, he gave one final thrust.  

A hot warmth coated your raw insides, mixing in with your own cum as you felt him still. You whined softly as you felt full. Moments passed as the two of you huffed and panted, letting the cool air chill the two of your sweaty bodies down. He pulled out of you gingerly, you whimpered at the loss as you felt cum and slick leak out. He paid no mind, plopping down to the side of you, and pulling you back onto his stomach as the two of you took each other in, cooling down from intense highs.

He cupped your face, and began trailing soft kisses wherever he could reach, and you couldn’t help but rasp out giggles, the fog clearing from your head as you descended back towards your normal mental state of closure.  

“Beautiful. Mmm, ya took me so well, an’ ya looked so pretty n’ debauched. Don’t care, I’m gunna say it, Princess. I love ya.” He admitted so softly, hands smoothing down your back as you felt your heart softened as you gazed down at him.

“I love you, too. I know for sure that I will love you more when time passes.” You kissed him tenderly, letting your own growing affections seep into the kiss, and he let out an odd guttural of purring, enjoying the fulfilling feeling of a partner doting on him. The lights flickered, as if trying to lull you to sleep, but you weren’t sleepy, yet.

“I want to talk. What’s your favorite color? Why do you purr? How did you meet your sons? I want to know every bit about you.” You murmured into his chest, peeking at him through lashes, enjoying the surprised and pleased look that you were receiving. You didn’t care about the time, letting him ramble at each question you had, enjoying the way his heartbeat quickened as his breathing chest fell up and down, him talking excitedly as he threw in his own questions, pleased to know about you, more.

“Ah~! I don’t think ya can’t get any cuter~.” He rubbed his nose against yours in affection, and you were surprised to hear the familiar purr echo through his chest.

“What about your purring?”  

“Yeah, happens now an’ then when I’m truly happy.”

“That’s wholesome and cute.” You admitted truthfully, liking the way his eyes danced with light at your confession.

“I wanna go again.” He said suddenly, and you flushed, realizing that he was stirring to life, again. You didn’t mind. You told him, and he smiled, kissing you.

“We’ll take it a lil’ more slow, this time. Face to face. Preferably ya kissin’ me, more.” He smiled, pinching your cheek playfully. You kissed him in false retaliation.

“Yer still a lil’ wet, so ya wouldn’t mind if I just-?” He asked, and you nodded, feeling his member catch onto the rim of your used entrance, the both of you moaning as he slid in easier, this time. You were wet and loosened, and instead of focusing on chasing your highs, the two of you paid attention to each other.

 Not many words were said as you did what you pleased, kissing, touching, and enjoying his softened expression at your inquisitive hands as he held onto you, returning your affectionate gestures as the atmosphere resonated with the flickering candles: soft and romantic as the two of your hips met in a slow, sensual pace, not racing against time as you felt him continue to purr, much to your satisfaction.  

You were still satisfied from earlier, but he still managed to make you cum again, this time it wasn’t as intense, but it didn’t matter, for your head cleared a little more quicker, getting to enjoy his desperate look as he quickened his pace. He looked debauched and desperate, eyebrows furrowed downward, pools of wetness gathering at his eyes as he bit his lip, only to open his mouth and call out your name as once again, he came inside of you.              

   “Damn, I think that I can forever make love to ya.” He panted out, sweaty chest rising and falling as one of your hands soothed circles around his waist, the other bringing his own to your lips as you kissed the back tenderly.

“I feel the same.” You admitted truthfully, and he let out another set of purrs.

……….

“Oh my goooooood! Oh my god! Sister! Where have you beeeeeen?! It’s been like, a year since we’ve last seen you!” Your friend hugged you tightly, relieved tears threatened to spill. Taishiro and you had decided to take a visit on the earthen realm to collect the rest of your things, if the villagers hadn’t destroyed your hut, that is. Luckily, your place was left untouched, and you came across the wondering group of girls, fretting over you, your state of dress, and looking at Taishiro with concern.

“Sis, did you finally summon a hireling? He doesn’t look like a gremlin?” One asked. You had to keep in your laughter as your husband’s eye twitched with annoyance.  

“Um, I used a different method on the summoning spell. This is my husband, Taishiro.”

“Whaaaaa-?”

“King of hell, keeper of souls, blah blah. Look, me an’ my Queen are going to go, now. Yer all annoyin’.” He griped, snapping his fingers as the portal to your home had opened, not giving your friends time to wave their goodbyes as he dragged you home, and oddly enough, you didn’t mind.

……..

          Your eyes glinted in the moonlight as the juice from the pomegranate seeds stained your lips red as you eyed the stunned man. Centuries had passed, and you and your husband had lost track of time, not aging as your magic grew in power, melding perfectly with his. Your adopted sons had moved on, finding their own mates, bringing them to your realm to visit regularly, and your love for Taishiro grew immeasurably.

  Unfortunately, since he was an ancient demon, he had to reincarnate once every one thousand years, letting his soul reset into a body although resembled his own, his memories were long gone, leading you onto a twenty-nine year old man-hunt for your reincarnated lover.

“I may have a use for you, yet.” You let the words soothe over the young magic user, his eyes widened in something akin to recognition, although confused.

“Alright, Dumplin, What’dya need?” His accent was the same, except it belonged to a young man, this time, and not a demon.

“I’m Queen of hell, lady of the lost souls, and I’m in need of a king.”

 “So familiar…” He gripped his head, eyeing you with confusion, yet there was a hint of your husband’s glint within those eyes.

“It’s because you know me. Very well.” You hummed at his confused expression.

“Alright, I’m curious. Lead me.” He gave in.

You smiled. It wouldn’t take long for the two of you to be reunited, after all.

………..

End! Give Thanks and Credit to Rita, or youtubequeens on tumblr for the idea and us brainstorming! I tried to fix any plot holes, I fell in love with the setting and mythology and other things, so I’m pretty proud of this fic :3

ACOTAR Fic: Bloom & Bone (3/32) | Elain x Tamlin, Lucien x Vassa

Summary: Elain lies about a vision and winds up as the Night Court’s emissary to the Spring Court, trying to prevent the Dread Trove from falling into the wrong hands and wrestling with the gifts the Cauldron imparted when she was Made. Lucien, asked to join her, must contend with secrets about his mating bond. Meanwhile, Tamlin struggles to lead the Spring Court in the aftermath of the war with Hybern. And Vassa, the human queen in their midst, wrestles with the enchantment that turns her into a firebird by day, robbing her of the power of speech and human thought. Looming over all of them is uniquet peace in Prythian and the threat of Koschei, the death-god with unimaginable power. With powers both magical and monstrous, the quartet at the Spring Court will have to wrestle with their own natures and the evil that surrounds them. Will the struggle save their world, or doom it?

A/N: Honestly, this chapter might just be a celebration of my love for Lucien and Vassa, and I'm okay with that. Also, Lucien briefly quotes Manon from Throne of Glass early in this chapter, because I couldn't resist. You can find all chapters here.

Lucien is inside Vassa when he hears the growl outside the window. He succeeds in not cursing, not wanting the queen sprawled on the bed below him to think he’s at all distracted. Her bronze skin picking up the luster of the candles and her hair its own firelight, spread across the pillow, her lips open as she moans, scrabbles her fingers on his back, pulls him closer. As much as he adores Vassa in the middle of a clever conversation, outsmarting everyone around, he prefers her in this wordless state.

Lucien decides that Tamlin can wait, and runs his thumb against Vassa’s lower lip, thrusts inside her until she stifles her moans into his hand.

She rises from the bed within minutes, not wanting to waste her hours in human form, and he follows her, adjusting his jacket as he winnows to the grounds of the Greysen manor, his mechanical eye whirling in search of Tamlin.

“You’re sure the human queen hasn’t enchanted you?” his old friend asks, prowling out of the shadows. Lucien decides that pointing out the irony of the statement would be unwise.

“I’m surprised you were allowed past the gate,” he says instead.

“You’d be surprised at how easy it is to scare a human.” Tamlin glances at the backs of his hands, as if he’s not sure whether the claws are still visible. After all the conversations Lucien has had with him in his beast form, he supposes it’s a reasonable concern. “And I’m surprised to see you’ve given up on your mate so easily. I’d thought you’d be a model of courtly love.”

Lucien does his best to look mollified. He has told many lies in his life, dancing between truth and half-truth and truth’s opposite so nimbly that he considered his lies blessed by the Mother herself. After centuries, what’s most embarrassing is that he assumed these lies would always come easily to him and slip away with no resistance.

Then came Hybern, the Cauldron, and the dozens of golden threads Lucien watched form between Tamlin and the newly-Fae Elain Archeron, the mating bond so clear he wondered why he was the only one who could see it, though such uncanny sightings were not unusual for him, especially with his new eye.

Within seconds, Lucien had known what would happen if the bond was revealed. Feyre would never let her sister go to the Spring Court. Rhysand -- Feyre’s true mate, Lucien knew, could not reveal to Tamlin for fear of the resulting furious explosion, a regret that had already lit a fire in his gut -- would go to war over the weeping girl, more and more luminous with each tear that spilled from her sweet brown eyes. Prythian would be shattered, invaded from both coasts. And Tamlin would be destroyed. He’d gone to battle with the Night Court over the woman he loved and doomed his actual mate to kidnapping and the Cauldron, trauma and a life she’d never wanted, a cosmic joke that would have been funny if Lucien had read it in an epic poem written millenia before.

The lie, then, was easy.

You’re my mate, he’d told Elain, the shock and wonder and horror true as anything else in his long and miserable life.

Lucien had been sure that Tamlin would confront him, raging about the fact that Lucien had claimed the female who the Mother had given to Tamlin himself. But Tamlin had only doted over Feyre, stalked his lands, conspired with Ianthe and Hybern, and Lucien had been forced to keep up the lie to everybody. It had not been difficult to leave the Spring Court with Feyre, despite everything, and though the constant rejection from Elain had been grating, the smug disinterest of the Night Court an annoyance that gnawed at his very core, Lucien found that these discomforts were bearable, at least in the beginning. Even the times Feyre pried into her mind and he had to cloak his thoughts did not bother him as much as he would have thought. He’d dealt with worse. It was the span of the deception that rankled, the fact that Tamlin never seemed to realize he’d met his mate, that Elain had fallen into love or else infatuation with Azriel when there were both real and imagined bonds pulling her elsewhere. The stream of invitations from the Night Court, trying to pair Lucien and Elain together. Gradually Lucien realized that he was the only one who knew the substance of his lie, the only one who’d even glimpsed the truth.

And of course Vassa had only complicated the situation further. He’d tried for months to stay away, if not for an imaginary love story with a woman who did not want him, for the sake of Prythian, for the sake of all involved. He’d even thought that Vassa and Jurian would anger each other enough to wind up lovers, and once he lived with them in their Band of Exiles, breaking up their constant arguments had left him feeling dried and worn. If he hadn’t been used to being overlooked, it would have been a blow: considering the way Vassa burned bright in either form, her mind always analyzing a situation on a dozen levels but her mouth often blurting out the truth as she saw it, refined just enough by her confidence for diplomacy. Her lips twin rose petals, her words the thorns bent on ensnaring lesser minds and beings in her net. She was beautiful, of course, but her mind was gorgeous. His fear and regard for Koschei and the other human queens were predicated on the fact that the death-god could have imprisoned such a woman.

Last month they’d talked late into the night, the embers of the fire giving her face a fragile golden outline, and it occurred to Lucien that he and Azriel and Rhysand were no closer to determining the breaking of Vassa’s enchantment, that she might live out the rest of her life under this imprisonment. And still her whole face brightened with their conversation, about the latest innovations in the Dawn Court and their potential implications for Prythian and the human realms, Scythia in particular. How lovely her amber eyes were, lit with her hope and intelligence, the curve of clavicle shaded by the night. Lucien had been certain that he’d never met someone less deserving of her curse, and still she dreamed of the ways in which she might aid her kingdom on her return.

He’d taken a step toward her, another, pressed his lips to her cheekbone, gentle and slow, giving her a chance to pull away. Instead she smiled and said I was hoping you’d get the idea, and so he kissed the curve of her jaw, the curves of her ear, until she’d reached out for him and pulled his mouth to her, her tongue on the seam of his lips within seconds, their bodies flush against each other.

Despite the month they’ve spent in and out of each other's beds, Lucien hasn’t told her about the lie. As far as he can tell, Vassa thinks she is a second choice, or a rebellion against the Mother’s wisdom. He cannot risk a daemati peering inside Vassa’s open human mind and learning this secret, and in spite of this, the lie burns most heavily on him when he’s with her, so that, despite decades of training himself in deceit, he has almost revealed the truth to Vassa a dozen times.

“My mate has centuries to come around to the idea of me,” he says now, trying to sound sly instead of weary, “but I find the prospect of this wait no longer holds much appeal. What brings you to the human lands tonight, Tam?”

“Rhysand wants you in my court, along with Vassa. He’s sending your Elain as his emissary and thinks she requires protection.”

Matchmaking aunt Rhysand, Lucien thinks, scrubbing a hand over his face. The scent of Vassa’s skin still on his fingers.

“And you allowed this?” he asks instead, playing for time.

“You know that Rhysand only begins his strategies with polite requests. I’d wake up one morning to an invasion.”

“I can be at your estate tomorrow.”

“In a week.”

“Why the delay?” Lucien has never known Rhysand to bide his time. Once a plan is put in motion, there are no delays. Even if he’s grateful for the reprieve. He does not know what he will say to Vassa, or Elain.

“Apparently my estate requires renovations.” For the first time in years, Tamlin’s face is rueful, a surprising expression after so much rage and sorrow and self-pity. “The most crucial will be completed in that time. Your mate has claimed my gardens and will begin installing flowers. The Morrigan is winnowing her.”

Lucien weighs the possibility of telling the truth right then, telling Tamlin that the female in his gardens is his own mate, that there is a reason his voice goes soft, approaches tender, when he speaks of her. But this is the best he’s seen Tamlin look since before Amarantha appeared on their lands, the first time it’s been easy for Lucien to remember why he’d always liked the High Lord of Spring in spite of more recent evidence to the contrary. Perhaps Tamlin will realize the truth on his own.

“I’ll be at your estate as you request.”

“Make sure you wash the smell of the human queen off before you arrive.”

“Her name is Vassa,” Lucien snarls, a brief unleashing of his temper.

“While I have no interest in who is in your bed, you know that Rhysand would not accept the slight to his court so easily.” Tamlin is trying to help, Lucien knows, but he’s been stalking the forests for so long that he does not realize Lucien has had three meetings with Rhysand since the first night with Vassa, preceded by scrubbing and spells that leave him raw and nearly without scent.

“Perhaps it would be a relief to Elain.” He’s reaching, the lie too heavy for his shoulders when he imagines where he’ll be in seven days. Already he’s forming a plan for every night until he must appear at the Spring Court with Vassa.

“Females generally like to do the leaving, I find.”

“You sound ridiculous when you speak that way,” Lucien says, giving the words a breath of laughter to soften them. He is pushing as he never did before, but instead of bristling, Tamlin sighs.

“I used to think I understood this world,” he says, and Lucien thinks that now, with so many befores to consider, for once he does not know the story Tamlin’s telling himself.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vassa knows that something’s wrong as soon as she finds Lucien back in bed. Generally he spends his nights awake with her, sleeping in the pockets of time when he’s not needed elsewhere in Prythian. Now he’s sprawled on the mattress, jacket discarded on the headboard, his breathing too light for sleep.

“Who summoned you?” she asks, knowing that he’s more likely to tell her than if she asks what’s wrong?

“We’re both expected in the Spring Court in a week. Elain Archeron will be there as well.” He mutters the words into the quilt so that Vassa has to lean closer to him. He forgets, sometimes, that she has only human ears.

“Why would Tamlin need me at his estate?” She does not point out that much of his estate lacks intact walls or windows, that its High Lord was the building’s principal destroyer. These facts only poke a would inside of Lucien, and so she holds her tongue.

“Rhys wants us there.”

“More questions about Koschei, then.” She’s told the Night Court all she knows, unless the sorcerer took her memories, in which case Vassa wishes he’d remove the more painful of her recollections, the horrors of the life she lived imprisoned on his lake.

“Azriel has been investigating. Maybe there’s a way to break the enchantment on you.” He reaches out for her hand and traces the lines of her fingers. Vassa holds back a shiver of anticipation, knows that he will hardly touch her as soon as they’re in the Spring Court. Six nights together, perhaps the last that they will ever spend, if the enchantment is somehow lifted and she’s able to go back to her own country. These years in Prythian were always meant to end.

“Tamlin knows I’ll need a place that cannot burn?”

“I’ll show you all the lakes the Spring Court has to offer. You can choose your favorite.”

“I’d prefer a new location every day, I think.” She reaches out for him until she’s lying next to him, letting the warmth of his body still her whirling mind. So many hours pass every day where she cannot think like a human, where she’s trapped inside the body and mind of an animal, and although she’s managed to gain some control over the firebird, the most gutting loss is her own right mind, its familiar quicksilver darting, so that it seems to work in triple time whenever she’s human again. The mind of the firebird is slower and angrier than Vassa has ever allowed herself to be. The anger of a queen is deadly, and she has always been mindful of her citizens, how best to rule them.

“You know it’s you I want to be with, don’t you?” He props his cheek on his hand, gazing at her, and Vassa raises her eyebrows. The mating bond between the High Fae is the stuff of legends, stronger than love or fear or desire.

“I could never marry you,” she says, meeting his russet eyes only because she’s been so immaculately trained since childhood. “I need to return to my country as soon as I can.”

“It’s not as if I’m bound to Prythian.”

She rolls her eyes at him. “You are employed by half the High Lords and held in high esteem by nearly all. I don’t think you’d know what to do if your days weren’t filled with counsels and entreaties and schemes.”

“Plenty of schemes to hatch in the human lands.” He reaches for a lock of her hair, wraps the tendril around his finger until she’s so close there’s nothing to do but kiss.

“What about your mate?” she asks, after a kiss long enough to make most females, Fae or human, forget the thread of the conversation.

“I do believe she will survive.” He pulls her toward him again, this time working at the fastenings of her dress, the corset beneath, and all the while Vassa thinks, even while she runs her fingers against his copper skin, that this cruelty towards his mate seems so incongruous with everything else she knows about Lucien. She does not flatter herself that he has fallen in love with her. They have known each other for three years now, hardly a moment in his long life, shared beds for only a month. Soon he will forget all about her, Vassa is certain. And perhaps a certain amount of longing is dignified for a queen, helps her to understand the plight of her citizens, the secret sufferings in their own hearts.

If she had more time these days for contemplation, Vassa would have a chance to realize that she’s deluding herself. Still, she presses herself to Lucien until they’re barely more than heated skin and ragged breaths.

The Purple Hoarder (Dragon)

Rating: General Relationship: Female Human/Female Dragon Additional Tags: Exophilia, Dragon, Japanese Dragon Content Warning: Disease, Illness Words: 3202

A 3000 word commission for @alittlespicygay​, the first place reward for the 2000 follower giveaway! A village at the base of the mountain has been stricken with a mysterious disease, the only cure of which is an illusive flower known as the Dragon's Tear. Finding it was easy, actually obtaining it would be a bit more complicated... Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

To say that hiking in the nearby mountains is ill-advised was an understatement: most people who did so never came back. Only desperate people with a death wish were crazy enough to traverse the wilds of the forest, but you were plenty desperate.

A strange illness had overtaken your town, and you, as one of the last healthy people left, had been tasked with going into the mountains to find a rare flower called the Dragon’s Tear, which was supposedly the cure. The quest was made all the more difficult since you’d never actually seen one. In fact, no one had. There were drawings of it, but no one had seen the flower in over two hundred years.

Having packed and bid farewell to the few who could still stand to see you off, you started your long trek into the woods at the base of the mountain.

Two days had brought nothing but blisters on your feet and a sore back from sleeping on the ground. You really had no idea where to go, only a vague idea of what you were looking for. As you sat on the third morning, eating dried fruit for breakfast and staring at the peak of the mountain above you through the canopy of the trees, you suddenly had the intense feeling as though you were going to have to go up. Way up.

So you did. You had to find something that resembled a pathway, as most of the stones were jagged and broken, but after several hours of scrapes and scratches, grunting and heaving, you made it to a ledge to rest, gulping for breath.

As you sat there, trying not to die from lack of oxygen, you felt something brush softly against the back of your hand: a purple petal with black veins and a white base, fresh, perfect, and unwithered. You sat up suddenly, shock driving the exhaustion from your body. That was a Dragon’s Tear petal!

Where! Where had it come from? Scrambling up and grabbing your bag roughly, you tried to find the source of the petal.

After searching, you found a strangely hidden mouth of a cave, cleverly concealed behind a wall of jagged stone. If one was looking from any direction but down at it from above, they’d never have seen it. Petals were drifting out of the opening one or two at a time.

You made your way carefully inside, taking off your shoes so that you didn’t make any sound as your feet glided gently across the floor. It was dark in the cavern, naturally, but there were points of light through the rocks that gave you direction without having to light a torch.

Creeping slowly, you saw more petals peppered here and there on the ground, moving to and fro from the odd wind that permeated throughout the tunnelway. But the petals weren’t what you needed; while the petals had some components needed to treat the sick, the more potent medicine was in the stem of the flower. The petals of one flower might treat one person, but the stem could cure twenty.

As you slowly got closer into the cave, you heard a rumbling sound that continuously grew louder as you went farther in. You began to feel trepidatious, but you didn’t falter in your steps.

The tunnel of the cave opened up into a larger cavern. Light from a small hole in the center of the roof poured in, adding a small amount of light to the cave, just enough to see. You gasped. All around you, covering the floor, the walls, and the ceiling in the purple healing flowers, just growing from the stone. You could take as many as you wanted and cure an entire country. Once the village was healed, you could sell the rest and be rich beyond your dreams. Your mind reeled with possibilities.

As you reached down to pluck one up, you heard the rumble again. Looking up, you saw a dark purple mass, huge, black, and curled around itself, lying in the the middle of the sea of flowers. The way it was laying made it difficult to determine what manner of creature it was, but the way its body rose and fell with the rumbling said it was clearly asleep. Whatever it was, it was big enough to injure you should it wake, so you carefully backed away, bending to snatch a handful of the flowers.

As you did so, your canteen fell out of your bag, falling past the flowers and clattering loudly to the floor.

“Fuck!” You hissed, grabbing it up and pulling out a dagger, looking at the figure as it moved and stretched, shaking out its dark fur. It was long, from it’s neck to its body to its tail. Its limbs were relatively short, however. There were a pair of long horns on its head and it had whiskers that extended past its mouth and downward, like a mustache. It appeared to be a dragon of some kind, though it had no wings.

“Can I ask what you’re doing in my home?” The creature said in a distinctly feminine tone, blowing warm breath against you as she spoke. For having been woken by an intruder, she was awfully calm, though you assumed if you could eat your intruders, you wouldn’t be all that perturbed, either.

“I…” You gulped a little but raised the knife in your hand in a way you hoped was menacing. “I’ve come for the flowers. A sickness has taken the village at the base of the mountain. None have died yet, but hundreds are sick and not recovering. Please. I just need the flowers and I’ll never bother you again.”

She snorted out of her nostrils, and your hair was blown back by the wind. “You come in here, threaten me with a toothpick, and make demands? How bold of you.” She sat back on her short hind legs and crossed her front ones, like a disappointed aunt. “What will you offer me for the flowers?”

“Offer you?” You asked, confused.

“Well, yes,” She said impatiently. “You wouldn’t steal flowers from your neighbor’s garden, would you?”

“I would if it saved an entire village of people!” You retorted loudly.

She was unswayed. “What will you offer?”

You sighed sharply. “I don’t have any money,” You replied, holding out your hands helplessly.

She snorted again. “I’m not like my scaly cousins. Money doesn’t interest me. What else can you offer?”

“What do you want?” You asked.

She got back down on all fours and came closer. “Do you have a comb or a hairbrush?”

“What?” You said, feeling more confused that you thought possible.

“Well, look at the state of my fur!” She said, turning. Her fur was rather tangled and full of brambles and twigs. “I don’t have the dexterity to to get it out myself. Or a comb.”

“So you want me to groom you?” You asked skeptically.

“Yes,” She said. “You brush my fur, and I’ll let you have one flower.”

“One?!” You shouted. “It’ll take plenty more than that to cure the entire village!”

“Which is why you will return each day to brush my fur. Each day you come and attend to me, and each day, you’ll leave with one flower. When the town is cured, you won’t have to come anymore.”

“It took me three days to get here!”

“I will fly you down the mountain every evening and come back to pick you up every morning.”

“You can fly? How? You don’t have wings.”

You could almost hear her roll her eyes. “I’m magical, dear. So, do we have a deal?”

“Well, I don’t really have a choice, do I?” You grumbled.

“Oh, there’s always a choice,” She said. “Come along, now. It’ll be better in the sun, where you can see what you’re doing. It’s too dark in here.” As she brushed past you toward the exit, she added, “I’m Raun, by the way.”

You resisted the urge to snatch up a few of the flowers while she wasn’t looking and reluctantly followed her out of the cave, petals whispering against the ground as she moved through them.

Out in the sunlight, you could see that she wasn’t all black like she appeared inside: like the flower petals, her fur started black at the base but grew out into a purple hue. The slitted irises of her eyes were also purple, and the blackness of her horns had an iridescent purple sheen. She lay her long body down on the warm stone and looked at you expectantly. With a sigh, you retrieved a comb and hairbrush from your pack.

Thankfully, she was clean and smelled very nice. She said there was a private pool close by where she bathed regularly, and she attributed the pleasant scent of her fur to the flowers she slept in, which had a vaguely honeysuckle-elderflower smell.

The hardest part was removing each tiny bramble and twig individually before you could even start combing out the tangles. By the time you were halfway through plucking, the sun had begun to set.

“Ah,” She said, standing abruptly and dislodging you. She darted into the cave and returned with a single flower, stem included, and gave it to you. She then lowered her neck to the ground. “Time to get you home. Climb on. Hold my horns.”

Not at all trusting this situation, you carefully swung a leg over her and straddled her right behind her head. Wasting no time, she bound forward and took a dive off of the cliff. You screamed as she came up short of the ground and rose sharply, dancing like a ribbon in the wind as she flew, truly flew, over the canopy of trees back toward the village.

She stopped short of the town’s edge and landed gracefully, though you were still feeling sick.

“I’ll return here in the morning, just after dawn. I’ll have breakfast waiting,” She said. “Also, as part of the deal, you tell no one about me. I don’t need a legion of thieves showing up at my doorstep, if you please. Otherwise, I’ll destroy the flowers and move on.”

“I understand,” You said.

“Good.” Without another word, she leapt and took off back toward her cave. You watched in confusion and a little bit of awe.

You went back into the town and present the flower to the council, telling them you could only find one, but that you’d go back out the next day to look for more. They thanked you, immediately instructing the physician to begin the process of distilling a cure.

You didn’t sleep that night, feeling anxious about the next day. Raun had been rather approachable, friendly even, but she was still a dragon. The stories about them weren’t exactly encouraging, especially about what happens to the people who encounter them.

The next morning, you hiked out again into the woods. Raun was waiting for you there in the place she’d sat you down.

“Ready to go?” She asked, sounding chipper.

“I suppose,” You grumbled.

She cocked her head at you. “You look tired.”

“I didn’t sleep.”

“Goodness. Why not?”

“It doesn’t matter,” You said, sighing. “Let’s go.”

She shrugged and, after letting you climb on her back, she took off again.

As she landed and allowed you to slip down, you asked, “So, should we get started?”

“No, no! I said I’d have breakfast ready. Are you hungry?”

“It depends,” You said, eyeing her suspiciously. “It’s not raw meat or anything, is it?”

She snorted again. “No, don’t be silly. I’m a vegetarian.” She led you inside the cave, which you couldn’t help but notice had been spruced up a little. There were other flowers and things littered about. There were even two braziers lit, so that there was more light in the cave and you could see better. You imagined she had night vision and didn’t need the extra light, so she must have put them up just for you.

In the center, where she slept, there was a large array of fruit and vegetables laid out on some kind of fur, most likely bear, and flowers put all around the spread. It was actually… really pretty.

“Why…?” Was all you could manage to get out.

“I don’t have guests all that often,” She said, curling her body around the bear fur with breakfast on it and eating an entire watermelon. “I want you to feel welcome.”

“Oh,” You said, sitting cross-legged on the floor across from her. You picked up a pear, sniffed it, and ate it.

You ate your fill long before she did, and as you waited for her to finish, being full and warm started to make your eyelids droop and your head nod. You blinked, and when you opened your eyes again, you were laying against her fur with her head in your lap, her eyes closed.

“Um…” You reached out and tugged gently on her ear, which was goat-like, and her eyes popped open, her pupils blown wide like a cat in the dark.

“Ah, you’re awake,” She said, lifting her head off of you. “You fell asleep during breakfast. It’s almost lunchtime now.”

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry!” You said. “Please, I didn’t mean it, please don’t withhold the flower today! So many people are still sick!”

“I wasn’t going to,” She replied, taken aback. “I”m not heartless, dear.” She stood up and began walking toward the exit. “Would you like to come and help me pick lunch? I have a garden I’ve been tending in a lower part of the mountain.”

“Sure,” You said slowly and followed her outside.

Her “garden” was practically a farm in and of itself; there were rows of vegetables and trees, and fruit dangling from the vine. In addition, there were flowers everywhere. It was a paradise.

“This is beautiful,” You told her.

If a dragon could smile, she certainly was at the moment. “Thank you! It was years in the making.”

You helped her pick a bushel of various fruits and vegetables and had lunch in the middle of her garden. She then flipped on her back and allowed you to begin detangling the fur on her long belly like a placated housecat.

It went on this way for weeks: every morning you left with Raun to brush out her fur and spend a day talking and, over time, enjoying each other’s company, and every evening you returned to the village with a single Dragon’s Tear. Every day, twenty people were cured of the sickness, and life began to return to the town. You were hailed as a hero, though you felt a bit guilty that all you had done to earn the flower was lounge around with a fluffy dragon in a garden.

Six weeks on, you were sitting against her with her tail in your lap, brushing out the fur. Since you had started, her fur had gone from a tangled, brambles mess to sleek, shiny, and gorgeous. You were almost a little jealous.

“There’s only twenty-three people still sick in the village,” You mentioned casually. “You’ll be free of me the day after tomorrow.”

Raun was silent and still, perhaps sleeping. She often did fall asleep when you were brushing. After a few minutes, though, you heard her ask, “Will you visit me?”

“If you like,” You said. “I know I must be a thorn in your side, coming up here and demanding things from you. I’ll be out of your hair soon.” You laughed. “So to speak.”

Raun did not laugh. In fact, she was rather quiet from then on.

The day came when you received the last flower, and she let you down in the same glade as always.

“Well,” She said, sitting down so that she was eye level with you. “I’m glad your people are well. This will be goodbye, then?”

“I’m afraid so,” You told her, patting her nose. “I’m sure you’ll be glad without me underfoot.”

“Take care of yourself,” Raun said. “This village is lucky to have someone like you.”

Before you could reply, she turned and ran off, shooting up out of the canopy and away to her home.

The last few people were cured, and the village held a celebration in your honor. The attention made you extremely uncomfortable, and everything reminded you of Raun. The wine was made with elderflower, there was a watermelon carved in the shape of a dragon, there was a spread of food on a bear skin. This feast should include Raun. She was as much responsible for this as you were.

A week passed, and you dreamed of Raun every night. Some dreams were good, some weren’t. No matter how hard you tried, you simply couldn’t put her out of your mind.

Will you visit me?

Well… why not? She didn’t kill you the last time you showed up unannounced, and you imagined her fur must be rather tangled by now. You bounced out of your bed in the early morning hours while the village was still quiet, gathered your things, including a giant, brand new horse brush you’d bought for no reason you could think of, and began your trek up the mountain.

It took less time, since you knew where you were going, but it was still the better part of the day to get there. By the time you’d made it to the well hidden entryway, dusk was falling. Inside, you heard a low moaning, like wind through a tunnel. Curious, you went inside.

It was dark, but there was still enough light that you could see Raun inside, sitting with her front legs tucked in, her head bowed, and bright tears dripping down her face and onto the stone. As it hit, a brand new Dragon’s Tear flower bloom instantly from where her tear fell, fully formed and glowing.

It was then you realized as you looked at the flowers all over the floor, the walls, the ceiling. Each one was a tear, a real tear. How many had she cried? How long? It had to have been before you came because there were already so many then, but now, every inch was covered in the flowers. She must have been crying for days.

“Raun!” You exclaimed, running forward and throwing your arms around her neck. “What’s wrong, are you alright?”

She gasped and put her large paws around you. “You came back! I didn’t think you would!”

“Why didn’t you tell me you wanted me to come back?” You asked her, pulling her forward by her whiskers.

“I did!” She said, sniffling, another tear leaking out. It landed on the hem of your skirt, and a flower popped up there. “But I didn’t think you wanted to.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” You said. “I haven’t stopped thinking of you. I should have come back sooner.” You kissed her snout repeatedly. “I brought brushes,” You said, a tear or two in your own eyes. “Could you use some grooming?”

“Always,” She laughed back, nuzzling your neck. “But can we have dinner first?”

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience!To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

@utternocries​ - one word fic prompts

Lower ( part 1 )

The tolling of the church bells was genuinely ominous. An impending sense of dread dominating the grey morning fog, which blanketed Novigrad. Those silvery sounding clangs ringing out through the mist to call forward its faithful masses from the gloom. Pulling the traveling cloak tighter around her shoulders, if only to stave off the nerves rather than the general chill that harkened the coming of autumn, Jean flinches when Geralt's shoulder lightly brushes hers. Nerves had been high in the woman's chest as they neared the city, the last time she'd stepped foot in those walls being the night before her family died. Now with the cold solid stone rising around them, Jean couldn't help be reminded of a tomb.

This must have shown on her face from the flicker of a frown that graced the Witcher's mouth. He'd been summoned on a contract put forth by one of the wealthy governors that had come to occupy a mansion in the northern district of Novigrad. Since he'd taken up residence there, it's caused the man nothing but grief. Deaths in the family, along with some more insidious spectral activity that made even the most persistent of tenants shy away from even renting the place. Which only added to the misfortunes befalling an otherwise uninteresting and mundane man of wealth. With such wealth, he enlisted Geralt's help, and by some lucky stroke, Jean as well. Who had insisted she come along since the governor had mentioned something about black vines overtaking most of the house. 

"What plant has black vines?" Had been the first question Geralt had asked when done skimming the frantic letter that had been sent forward to Downwarren. The Witcher had to stop spending so much time in her little hut, now even people outside of the village were beginning to notice. Plucking the letter from his hands and chewing on the inside of her cheek as she read, Jean's mind crunched over all the various odd species that thrived in this environment.

 "Devil's bramble is the first that comes to mind, but it's more of a shrub than vines. Could also be just a mistaken color?" Placing the letter back down and folding arms across her chest, the Druid casts an uneasy glance out of the dewy glass in her kitchen to the misty bog. She hadn't been to Novigrad in nearly fifteen years. The harsh smell of a house fire coming back in a wave so sudden it took a considerable amount of will not to choke on the air stuck in her lungs. Hugging herself tighter, Jean forces the words out of her lips in an attempt to cast away unwanted memories. To drown the screams.

"You'll probably need an expert on plants and herbs," a glance is cut at the Witcher to gauge how the words are received. "I won't ask for any of your payment, I'm just genuinely curious now and could do with a bit of adventure away from the bog and corpses." Geralt grumbled a few words about how things were dangerous, and Jean's rebuttal of how she could handle a sword along with magic seemed to lessen the worries only marginally. Or at least enough that he put them to bed. Now walking among the cramped sewage reek which clung to the southern district like a diseased lover, Jean begins to miss her bog. Roaches hoof beats echo in the dull mist as they weave through cobblestone streets going north. A beggar approaches before seeing the Witcher and thinking better of his choices, slinking back into a darkened patch of fog that yawned into an alleyway. The struggling morning sun had yet to touch these streets, sleepy shop windows gazing out onto quiet abandoned boulevards. A liminal moment in time before the meager warmth of an autumn day shone through the slate clouds above.

 That invisible line between districts isn't so invisible in Novigrad. A stark change between cramped tenant buildings that had begun to go crooked like a thieves smile, to the gaudy colors in the markets almost hurt the Druid's eyes. Even at such an early hour, a merchant in puffy gold pants tried valiantly to hawk some bruised peaches to her, claiming they were the city's sweetest. More polite "no thank yous" than Jean figured were necessary, and he'd given up his venture only to flag down another tired traveler bustling away. They did not make it out of the markets without expending a small amount of coin, which Jean put out to receive a small set of glass bottles in return, which now clinked softly in her bag. Geralt eyed the merchant selling her the glass wear with a critical eye, waiting to see if he was going to swindle her or not. This intense cat-eyed stare is more than likely what got jean a reduced price just to make them go away.

"I think I have a new idea about what the vines are." The Druid pipped up as another jarring change in scenery happened from the markets to the northern district. Now polished iron gates bore their teeth at them from the mouths of massive walkways up to ostentatious villas. No longer is the lower districts' corpse stench lingering; instead, a delicate waft of mountain roses and lemon trees walk in step with the Witcher and the Druid. Jean felt dirty here like she shouldn't be permitted to touch anything for fear of sullying it beyond rescue.

"There's a rare type of flower which only grows on the site of immeasurable evil. I've only ever read about it, though; the drawing seemed close enough to the description he gave." Rummaging around in the folds of her cloak, Jean produces a very worn and overly bookmarked tome. Roughly the size of her palm, the books brown and yellow pages had the look of something that had been steeped in bog water and perhaps blood at one point. Leafing through to the proper page, the pages crackle with age under the woman's touch.

"Here, Dagon's breath. Black vines with leaves about the size of a supper plate, able to produce flowers but only on full moons. Dried flowers turned into a powder can produce some of the most potent madness-inducing potions known to the world. Since this is such a rare specimen, there are speculations that even the scent of the flower can cause severe hallucinations." Reading this passage aloud, the Druid could feel a cold hand drag down her spine. If this was what they were dealing with, then whatever cast the curse even to make it grow had to be obscenely powerful.

The Dagon is old magic. Older than what most perceived as life it's self, coming from the chaos before time. From all that Jean could find in the books in her home, it was a god born of entropy and discord but required strict worshippers to ensure that it would have a proper host to inhabit when the void took back over. Mages and fanatics alike that dabbled in the Old Gods were ones that put their minds in the hands of babbling madness willingly, hoping to be rewarded with some form of forbidden insight to the world. The thought made the Druid shudder. She'd tasted the sharp edges of madness once before, those dark whispers in a language lost still snaked into the blackest of nightmares that she couldn't wake herself from. They'd always promised such alluringly unfathomable things to her.

It's lost in these troubling murky visions that cause the woman to bump into Geralt when he stops at one of the ornate gates. Placing a hand on her shoulder to steady her, the Witcher's disquiet shows fully. He'd had many half-hearted qualms about bringing her along on this, and now that she was becoming so distracted, it only furthered his worry about her being a liability.

"You should go wait back at the inn. Now that I have a better idea of what this plant is, it shouldn't be a problem." I don't want you to get hurt; goes unvoiced, but his cat-like eyes' narrowing conveys the sentiment. Jean's face flares pink around the ears at her embarrassment, but she doesn't allow the dialogue of the inn to go any further. Making a vague gesture at the nameplate affixed to the gate, the woman lets out an irritated breath, the frustrations more directed at herself.

"We're already here; it wouldn't make sense just to send me away now. Plus, I don't remember which roads we took to get here through the fog. Come on, Geralt, just let me continue, and I'll keep my head on straight, okay? No more distractions." A half-hearted smile that she hopes will cement the words into place only has Geralt absently rolling his eyes. Producing the key that had been sent along with the letter they'd received, the gate is unlocked. A horse post just inside the iron portal is where they part with Roach, who busies themselves with munching on the fresh hay that had been left out.

Path flanked on either side by overgrown flower beds containing every flavor of poisonous plant known to the region. Even a few that look notably exotic had a tight knot of anxiety forming in the woman's chest. A breeze sighing up the path causes the nefarious blooms and grasses to seethe in a green ocean around them, their ghostly voices curling in Jean's ears. Reaching out to place a holding hand on Geralt's arm, Jean freezes in her tracks when the house looms into view from the dismal fog, which had turned into a light misting rain.

When the governor had stated the vines were growing along the house, she had expected a few sparse fingers grasping greedily at the spaces between the bricks. Instead, what they were greeted with was a building that seemed to move with a life of its own. Thick coal-black leaves nearly the size of Geralt's head shiver in the breeze giving a sinister shivering quality to the house from foundation to rain gutters. Interspersed with wine-red flowers sporting elegantly curved petals and long golden yellow pistils that reminded Jean of a great blood-sucking insect searching for its next meal.

Then the whispers.

"Geralt, we shouldn't go in there." We're the words Jean heard herself saying, startled by how her voice sounded so terrified. While the Druid can listen to most of the passive voices of the plant life around her, these held that same nebulous darkness that only spoke to her in deepest nightmares. They carried the same voice as the madness. Their saccharine-sweet smell only there to lure you in closer with beckoning leaves and candy red petals.

Before responding to such a statement, a loud voice calls to them excitedly from the house. A gaunt man in a midnight black traveling cloak hurries toward them, waving his arms and wearing an almost crazed smile that shows far too much of his gums, which are far too pale to be healthy.

"Witcher! And... company. So good of you to finally arrive, and when I fear I am at my wits end!" The man nearly shouts at them, reaching out to vigorously shake Geralt's then Jean's hand with both of his clammy skeletal paws clasped around theirs. When his fingers leave the Witcher's, he notices fresh raw wounds on the man's forearms peeking out from his dark robes' confines. They looked almost like symbols carved into his skin, but such a quick glance hadn't been enough time. Deep-set eyes that once would have struck a woman dead with a glance now flit in their sockets nervously, the striking ocean blue ringed with bloodshot scleras and the deep shadows of exhaustion. The man looked to be hand in hand with death, yet the cold grip that clutches Jean's own spoke of fierce hidden strength that still dwelled like an angry spirit inside him.

"You must come inside! He has told me so much about you. I am looking forward to speaking with you before we get to such dark and dismal affairs. Come come." Voice and grip offering no rebuttal, the governor loops his arm with Jean's, nearly dragging the woman toward the house of dark whispers. Following close behind, Geralt notices the low humming of his medallion as they approach the building. There was nothing good contained within, the corrupted magic oozing out and tainting the air around them.

Hey beautiful reader!

As an impending shelf exam for my 3rd year medical student surgery rotation draws near, I of course decided to procrastinate. 

Some of you may remember I once had a blog named sweetskindreams with my own URL/domain and everything. Well, it was incurring an annual fee and I honestly wasn’t blogging regularly enough to make that worth the money. I also wanted my blog to expand to a lifestyle blog, where it’s not just regarding skincare but also discusses makeup, fashion finds, food, med school woes, relationship updates, etc. As for the decision to opt Tumblr yet again (rather than the more formal Wordpress) - it is because most of my closest friends (cough people who will actually read this cough) are already on Tumblr and can easily be updated via a follow, whereas a formal blog requires a mailing subscription and the idea of my blog posts being e-mailed out to folks seems a bit extra. For how casual I’m treating all of this anyways. 

Intro aside, I wanted to kick off this new lifestyle blog with my recent Spring/Summer 2019 beauty hits and misses. Hopefully this will save you some money if you’ve been eyeing any of these products because there are definitely options I would avoid. 

Let’s start with the MISSES: 

- Touch in Sol No Problem Primer, $18: this was gifted by my roomie, so I really wanted to love it, but I gave it a miss because it still doesn’t beat Benefit’s Pore-fessional (quite frankly, nothing has) for pore minimization purposes and it doesn’t really act well as a primer either. Doesn’t ease foundation application nor prolong anything. It feels silky and nice to apply but I can’t perceive any useful benefits. 

- Too Faced Cooling Matte Pore Perfecting Primer, $34: people need to stop labeling things as “pore minimizing” or “pore perfecting” when they do absolutely nothing for the pores. Similar to Touch in Sol, this primer didn’t do anything special to prime the skin or cover up pores. It does feel cooling, and SMELLS AMAZING like much of Too Faced’s products do (a sweet fig scent), but those are secondary perks that don’t mean anything if the primary function is lacking. I also didn’t enjoy the application, which was hard to spread over the skin and knotted up easily. Hard pass.

- Fresh Rose Deep Hydration Facial Toner, $45: it pains me to put this in the ‘pass’ category but I do so because the effects are not worth the price. Rose petals in the toner make this so beautiful and an addition to my routine I so wanted to incorporate for aesthetics alone, but my skin remained dry only minutes after application. It just can’t justify the hefty price tag.

And now for the FAVS:

- Hourglass Mineral Veil Primer, $54: Ugh. I can’t find a better one. Gifted to me on my b-day by my beautiful friend Liz, I treasure this DEARLY. I’ve known since college how effective this primer is, how flawless the application (very sheer liquid form makes it glide easily over your skin), and yet because it’s been on the pricier side I’ve never actually repurchased. To receive it as a gift is definitely a nod to how well my besties know me and I am so thankful for them. I only use this on special occasions/going out. Hoping I can make this last for a good few months. I have yet to find a better primer, although Laura Mercier is a close second.

- Laneige Berry Lip Sleeping Mask, $20: Again gifted by Liz (WHY DID YOU SPEND SO MUCH ON ME THIS YEAR STOP) and IT IS THE BEST LIP BALM I HAVE EVER USED. And I’ve tried everything from Glossier (overrated) to all the usual drugstore brands (Eos, Baby Lips, Burt’s, Nivea). Nothing beats this. Not to mention it smells/tastes delicious. Laneige kills it with their sleeping mask for skin and the lip one does not disappoint either. Keeps my lips hydrated and doesn’t leave them extra dry after (that’s the main issue with all those other chapsticks, they moisturize for a bit but leave you drier than you started off. This does not have that issue, and is the only thing I’ve ever come across that doesn’t leave me more dried out!) looks glossy too and that’s always a bonus :) 

- Missha Magic Cushion Cover, $12 on amazon: ok so... cushion BB creams are my new fav thing. They are so damn easy to apply (literally pat your face for 15 seconds and you have flawless looking coverage) and don’t dry your skin out as much as foundation. Looks super natural too. I can’t rave about these enough. Sure, regular liquid BB creams/tinted moisturizers are also nice and good for summer but those require brushwork or beauty sponge work which both take a couple minutes, whereas the cushions take mere SECONDS. For someone who has to drag her ass to the hospital at 5am, the shorter the routine the better. (AND YOU CAN’T BEAT THIS PRICE TAG! Altho sadly these do only last about a month with daily use) 

- Lastly, I received 2 Drunk Elephant samples for my Sephora B-day gift this year. I’m sure y’all have heard of this brand as it is advertised constantly on instagram and has iconically beautiful packaging in bright, fun colors with minimalist designs. The samples I tried were the Beste No. 9 Jelly Cleanser and the Protini Polypeptide cream. Both are ... phenomenal. Very mild scents, free of all the junk that irritates your skin (mineral oils, silicones, alcohols, etc) and just what my currently cystic acne covered skin needed. (Yes, my acne is back, and I am so bummed about it. Definitely a result of me neglecting skin care when I was studying for Step. I ran out of my prescription retinoid for a couple weeks and sure enough these zits came flying back. Recovery has been slow but there is improvement.) The only caveat to Drunk Elephant products are their prices. Full size Jelly cleanser is $32 and Protini cream $68. Decking yourself out in the Drunk Elephant line will definitely hurt your pockets. But omg... I am seriously contemplating trying their whole line now. It’s not just how beautifully the product wears and how effective it is at what it advertises, but the FREAKING PACKAGING. And I don’t just mean the looking pretty part but more importantly the functional design. Go to Sephora and try the already opened samples yourself and you’ll see what I mean. The Jelly Cleanser cap “twists” (but does not come off) and has a little hole in the center that allows you to squeeze out a tiny dollop of product so you can quickly “twist” it back. And their serums are all in little dispenser bottles. You already know how much I love convenience, and DE makes everything as convenient as possible (and so so clean!) 

Hope you enjoyed this review and stay tuned next month for a review of a splurge purchase I made on AmorePacific products. I am especially curious about their Treatment Enzyme Powder to Foam Peels, so will review that later b/c I understand $60 is a lot to drop on something without knowing it will be worth your $. My brother is in Taiwan right now and has been instructed to bring back a hefty haul of sheet masks, eye masks, skin toners/essences/serums galore, so more to come in August. Until then, happy shopping! 

xoxo, Amy

The Pyre of Transmortation

Drabble I made that is a qausi-sequel of sorts to this, but instead of a generic lich & apprentice, it’s Altzmyr and Renwick(oops it’s now fanfiction from Forgotten Realms lore).

This is a rather detailed thing describing Altzmyr’s process of becoming a lich, so of course there is a lot of uhm deathy suicide-like stuff in it.

It’s under the Readmore.

TW: suicide, death, pain, injury, ritual suicide-ish stuff.  Detailed descriptions of ritual suicide and pain and dying. 

"Have you completed the rites of purification?" Spoke the lich.

"Yes." The apprentice answered.

"Have you accepted the aid of the Demon Lord of Undeath, The Goddess of Darkness, The Drow Goddess of Undeath, The God of Death, The God of Murder, or any other malign entity that sponsors lichdom?"

"No, I have only sought aid from you and you alone." The apprentice's answer was one of great respect and admiration.

"Have you lived an ascetic lifestyle to prepare your body, mind, and soul for eternity to come?"

"Yes.  I have.  I have lived the past year as so, and have consumed the herbs to prepare my body for the transmutation."

"Have you settled your affairs, and know what you plan to do with eternity?"

"Yes, indeed.  I wish not to build hordes of mindless undead for nefarious deeds.  I wish not for conquest and war..."

The apprentice took a deep breath and continued, and as he did so, he rose up and held his head up high in triumph, "And I wish not to be a passive devourer of knowledge isolated from the greater world.  I wish to transcend mortality and time and be a force of good for eons to come.  I wish to lead my people...our people..to thrive and co-exist with the living."

If the lich could smile in pride, he would, so a great nod and the clapping of dry, rattling sticks that were his hand bones had to do.  

Altzmyr Tannerem, the apprentice of the centuries-old lich Renwick Caradoon, had spent a long time preparing for this moment, and now the day was here.  His arms felt heavy, his heart raced, and his breath shorter.

His pale pallor told of countless days avoiding the sun, but sometimes there was a fire in his amethyst eyes that one keen enough would recognize to be the eyes of someone who lived a great life of adventuring.  The man was short for a half-elf, and had thick black hair of his moon elf kin tamed into long braid.  His attire at the moment was ceremonial-a dark purple robe with gold trim and red satin silk on the inside-such an attire was unessisary, but this was an important ovcasion and the robe somehow felt appropriate for it, even more likely for the embroidered image of phoenix wings on the back.

The lich was completely skeletal, and would have been mistaken for an ordinary skeleton except for the tiny glowing orbs for eyes, his ornate robes, how well-maintained his bones were, and the raw arcane power that would have killed a living host. He had guided his apprentice for nearly half a century since he sought his guidance into the secrets of lichdom that shunned away the evils usually associated with it.  It is difficult for most to believe such a thing as a benign lich would exist, but it was one of the strangest secrets of the world that Altzmyr discovered in his quest to unite sentient undead who did not ally with evil.  

Many would have considered even the notion that a common ghoul or vampire rising to virtue to be a profound paradox, and Altzmyr had found quite a handful in his journey.  And now it was Altzmyr's intent to finally cheat death perpetually and join the ranks of the unliving himself.  He already had extended his natural lifespan through more fragile and high-maintenance means using duplicated bodies-which also meant he had already experienced death and resurrection a few times.  Yet the reliance in such methods had grown thin over time, so to finally cheat death he had to pass once more and remain in between the two.  Most who become liches hunger for power immediately and thus are quick to sell their souls to evil powers, but the virtuous or neutral lich must exercise great patience to be ready for the change.  The greatest patience occurred at least a year before the change where it is preceded by a spiritual lifestyle of minimal want or need.

The full moon cast its light upon the cold stones inside the monastery and upon the numerous candles strewn around the room-upon windowsills, across tables and upon candelabra, and was enough to turn a cold somber room to one of cozy warmth in light and temperature with honey-like aroma of beeswax despite the exorbitant number of candles that were their source.  Altzmyr stood on an arcanely ornamented rug and closed his eyes.  His hands reached forward blindly were Remwick's bony hands grasped.  A wave of anxiety coursed through him that felt like being hit with a weak lightning spell that coursed through his hands enough even for Renwick to feel it.  Yet despite those feelings, Altzmyr knew he was ready-if he waited for the anxiety to pass he would never fulfill the deed.  Altzmyr contemplated how the next time he would wake up, his hands would be as cold as his mentor's.  Renwick himself remembered his own anxiety over the transition, but in his case he had left it to facing imminent death in battle to decide when he would make the transition.

A whole five minutes passed in the moment of silence where Altzmyr listened to his last breaths, his last heartbeats, his last pulse, the feeling of wetness in his mouth and the warmth that coursed through his thin body.  Afterward he opened his eyes and nodded, he was ready to begin the ritual.  

Mentor and apprentice stood on opposite sides of a stone table on the narrower side, they were within arms reach of another.  The table held an ornate flask of a pitch-black liquid, and four brass bowls of other substances.  An ancient spellbook lay open on Altzmyr's side of the table and then his lips began an incantation.  His mind concentrated on the weave were his hands reached out to pull magic from and within himself, his knowledge and will shaped the mana with gestures and incantations according to carefully planned structures and numerous commands.  These incantations manifested into intricate glowing shapes and symbols that wove in and out of his own body and the contents of the flask.  Renwick watched the procedure unfold to watch out for errors and to assist the flow of mana around.  

Altzmyr's eyes began to glow a bright magenta as the mana was commanded into his body were it would begin to prepare his flesh for preservation.  He would command it to control and inhibit decay and induce desiccation, to withstand the oncoming flood of necrotic power that would soon kill him, and be open to the transition to undeath.  The mana then latched onto his very soul, and then made a circuit with a large beautiful purple gemstone engraved with arcane power within, nestled in a gold fitting that made it appear as if ferried in the back of a phoenix.  

He turned his attention to four bowls of materials laid around the flask.

"Like this dried strawflower, shall I be preserved for all time."

He used his mage hand to guide a handful of dried strawflower petals into the flask.

"Like the dragon, shall I be powerful, but wise."

He lifted the handful of shimmering dust from another bowl with his magic.  It was the powdered scale from an ancient silver dragon bestowed to him.  He siphoned this into the flask.

"Like the diamond shall I be a conduit of great magic.”

He guided a powdered diamond into the flask.

“And like the phoenix, shall I be resurrected upon destruction and my soul an eternal flame.”

He even more carefully guided the last powder-a tiny pinch from the ashes of a phoenix, donated and in an amount harvested that would not take away from the phoenix.  

The concoction hissed and boiled.  Within were a myriad of other ingredients carefully prepared and some that had taken Altzmyr to far away lands and high mountain tops to find.  They included deadly toxins from the mouths of nagas, herbal preparations of hemlock and yew, resin from trees used to make lacquer, and even the blood of an evil being purified in holy water.  There were many other bizarre constituents, but none required the unspeakable evil that the brew beings like Orcus instructed to their acolytes.  The final five ingredients were the activation of all of this work and preparation.

The fifth and final activation component, was a few drops of his own blood.  He took a silvered knife an ran its blade across a wrinkle in his palm, where the blood oozed out and seeped down his pale hand and into the flask’s mouth.  He used his magic to carefully administer just eight drops into it, where they ran down like hot red sealing wax about to make the final seal on the poison.

With his bloodied hand he held the vessel that would soon take his soul, the large purple jewel set on a phoenix’s wings, and then with his other hand he lifted the flask up from its onyx pedestal.

He gave a deep sigh and looked at his mentor’s face.  Perhaps his own face someday would be just like that-a dry skull, but then Altzmyr reminded himself it would be that way anyway.

Renwick nodded.

Altzmyr breathed deeply, closed his eyes and held the deadly elixir into his lips.  It smelled noxious, like the burn from a necrotic blight but mixed with a bizarre purity from the airs of a higher plane.  A clash of ideals and forces, of death but hope and continuance, and mixed all together was a mote of potential eternity, of great power and immortality, of blessing and woes from such a bizarre existence.  His hand shook slightly as he took in the scent of what he was to be, of what he had worked hard, ages spent in magical study, but ages spent leading his people, ages spent in council, and ages watching the world and time pass, ages consorting with other immortal beings and ages spent shaping and being active in the world when he wished, ages spent on time on his own terms and his own pace.

He consumed the poison.

It flowed down his throat like a nasty bitter medicine and tingled and numbed its way down into his gut.  A small enchantment of the bottle ensured not a drop was left behind, as the entire substance pulled the last minute traces of itself down with the flow.  Altzmyr could feel the necrotic power bond into his body, slowly starting to pull his body toward death as it pooled in.  

He finished and set the bottle and gemstone down upon the table.  The arcane light settled inside his body and thus his eyes stopped glowing.  He faced his mentor and took a light bow with his arm across his chest.  Renwick bowed back in equal measure.  Altzmyr took a deep sigh, of both the anxiety and of completion, of going past the point of no return, of a certain peaceful finality not like the end of a life well lived, but of an accomplishment greatly succeeded.  

Renwick walked around the table and held his apprentice’s wrists, then his upper arms.  At first Altzmyr found this bewildering, but then he was hit with massive boulder of dizziness and he started to have trouble keeping his balance.  He was dying, and the feeling of dying was still frightening yet he had felt it before.  Renwick carefully guided him across the room.  Each step became heavier and harder to maintain, he started to feel his limbs become number and number with each second, his vision blurred, his breaths became shallower, his heart raced and screamed its final beats.  He came to a soft bed and collapsed like a weight upon the mattress as his whole body screamed and cried in a massive wave of pain, of his very organs gasped and ached for dear life right before they were mercifully silenced.  Within the massive rush of pain there was a small and very welcome interruption-he could feel his mentor's hand around his, and he squeezed tighter and tighter; another comforting hand stroked his profusely sweating forehead.  He felt like he was burning inside and out, as if thrown on a funeral pyre, and within was a fire that spread and seared his whole body, all he could do was scream, and scream he did until his lungs and throat shut down and silenced him-only his bursting tears could express the raging fever within.  Necrotic energy coursed through his nerves and veins and across guts and membranes, permeating through every fiber of his being, destroying the very life of them and replacing it with something seemingly unnatural yet powerful.  His final living moments then came to an abrupt calm, and washed his mind with a strange and restful peace.  He smiled lightly, not sure how he could even do it because he could no longer feel his face, yet he did.  

From the outside his body didn’t seem different after the fever died down.  Renwick recalled when he too had felt his final living moments and the stages of the process, he also had flailed and screamed upon the death of his mortal life, and saw once more what happened with his apprentice-yet there was little he could do save to be there for him and provide a sliver of comfort.

Altzmyr closed his eyes which ceased functioning naturally. His mind became emptied save for a peaceful, overwhelming tranquility, like he was floating in a void, not a cold empty, endless void, but a gentle, comforting one until he drifted out of consciousness.

His dead body started to leak out the warmth it once made, his skin gradually became even more pale.  Within, the carefully laid magics went to work transmuting his flesh and ferrying his corpse to undeath.  Renwick laid the phylactery upon his heart, where it would forge its indomitable bond with his soul.  

The natural life force of Altzmyr Tannerem had passed away, but his remains would be the stage and prime material for his resurrection and transformation into something greater than he once was.

Eight days later, a new lich awoke upon the bed.  His body was like the recently dead, still flesh and skin, still recognizable but gaunt and pale and preserved within.  His eyes had a subtle glow as they functioned differently.  He awoke to no breath, no pulse, but still felt a need to stretch his undead limbs, which he did so, and as he did he released a rush of air from his dead lungs and his arms and legs stretched out, his torso lifted in the air and his body was reborn with a new kind of life.  A surge of energy filled his body and he felt like he could just fly off like a newborn phoenix.  His phylactery was set on a table nearby and he could intuitively sense it.  

Renwick was delighted to see what Altzmyr had become, another of the fabled liches of good heart and great wisdom, so sorely needed among the ranks of the undead as guide and counselor.  

The old lich embraced the new lich and both held each other tight.

🏰 The Winter 2017 issue of Faerie Magazine arrived at my doorstep a couple of days ago, but I’ve only just peeked into it today.   The theme was the Mediaeval era, which I adored as I was growing up as a child, but fell out of love with - or out of touch with my love for - somewhere along the way.  

I enjoyed this issue as a whole more than I’ve enjoyed an issue from this magazine in a long time (there’s even an article in it about the mediaeval garden at the Cloisters in NYC!), but felt especially inspired by a short article by Rona Berg about mediaeval beautifying practices, and wanted to talk about the things in my life that put me a bit in touch with that old love for this historical period.

Roses everything In the article, Berg discusses the immense popularity of roses as a healing balm and a fragrance, and it’s certainly true that roses are, in addition to being a love I associate with most anything, an incredibly appropriate mediaeval scent.  In addition to rose-scented perfume, many skincare brands have rose-themed lines.  There are a number of rosewater toners and facial mists, but the Fresh deep hydration rosewater toner, and Rose face mask, are both full of real rose petals, for an extra luxurious, yet rustic feeling.

The Cloisters in NYC If you are ever in NYC and have the opportunity to visit, the Cloisters is a branch of the Metropolitan Museum of Art devoted solely to the Mediaeval era: they have tombs, glass windows, real castle architecture, the most beautiful garden, and of course, the Unicorn Tapestries, and in the springtime the scent of hyacinths wafts through the hallways as you near the garden.  This is really one of my favorite places in the world to be.

Ornate jewelry I don’t find the “clunky jewelry” trend flattering, but it’s hard to resist the details of a really beautiful piece of jewelry.  I can’t wear rings at work, but I wish I could wear them more often. My two favorite rings, and two of my favorite pieces of jewelry, are a silver-colored rose ring, and a silver-colored ring with a large yellow-orange gemstone - this is one of my favorite color combinations for jewelry, since I prefer silver over gold, and it’s impossible to find warm-colored stones that are set in something silver-colored.

Ornate packaging Rituel de Fille’s little magic-looking bottles of eye soot are for those moments when you want a fantasy version of the mediaeval era, to feel a bit like a witch in a painting.

Mementos from loved ones In keeping with several themes here, beloved friend and fellow mod Jamie sent me a little sachet of rose petals from her very beautiful (and fragrant, at the time - the scent is gone now, but the whole box she sent them in smelled like roses!) rosebush over the summer.  I cherish the gift as well as the memory, and recall it every time I look on the sachet, which I keep on my (crowded) dresser.

Skincare rituals Like the pairing of a rosewater toner and mask, the pairing of a good lip scrub with a thick lip balm is a beauty ritual that makes me indulge in a fantasy of feeling like a princess (instead of a modern day feudal peasant, as capitalism often makes me feel).  I love the brand Herbivore Botanicals and really want to get my hands on their lip conditioner, now that I’ve tried their lip scrub, a tiny little bottle of coconut-rose scented scrubby sugar granules.  (I know that you can make lip scrubs, and I’ve done so in the past, but I’ve found expensive purchased ones are truly better than my own homemade scrubs, so whatever.)  Until I commit to the Herbivore coco rose lip balm, though, I’m still in love with Osmia Organics lip repair with myrrh and honey. Doesn’t really smell like those things, but is so comfortable on the lips. 

Perfume Perfume can put me in mind of all and any things, and the mediaeval era was full of scents. To paraphrase Rona Berg, when she thinks about this period and place in history, smells are one of the first things that the imagination conjures.  For me, roses, herbs, resins, gardens and forests are the primary scents of my fantasy memory.  Some of the perfumes I’ve tried that have instantly put me in mind of the mediaeval era are: Sarawen Elf Princess (rose, lavender, sandalwood, lily and herbs): This truly is like the scent of a mediaeval garden, and one of the only scents with sandalwood in it that my skin can appreciate.  I wore this one to the Cloisters in March, where it was most fitting, so now I have an atmospheric memory with which to associate it! BPAL Elizabeth of Bohemia (the perfect rose oudh): This is an Elizabethan poem, but you will pry this scent from my cold, dead, rose and oudh scented fingers.  This is one of my favorite perfumes of literally all time.  I buy a lot of perfume every year, and have loads of infatuations, but this blend - which applies seamlessly to a mediaeval mindset and feels best in velvets and big rings - is a one true love. BPAL Parlement of Foules (white roses and resins, including frankincense): This Lupercalia (Valentine’s Day) limited edition scent, which has shown up a few years now, is meant to evoke “mediaeval romance and courtly love”, and for me, it very much does.  Wearing this one, I want to be lost in an labyrinthine garden in early springtime, when it has very recently rained.  The past feels very close to the present when I’m wearing it. CutieMonster Upon a Dream (lavender and roses, milk and honey): As sweet and dreamy as the animated film on which it’s based, I enjoy wearing this gentle and unobtrusive scent on days when I want to feel dreamy and uncomplicated. BPAL Bewitched (blackberry, sage, green tea, wild berries and musk):  Faintly witchy, extremely wearable, evocative of sweet berries and dried herbs and tea - a scent for beautiful peasant maids on the edge of a forest, mediaeval without limiting the archetype of elegance to princesses. BPAL Othello (Arabian musk, two roses, and spices): Another technically-Elizabethan contender, this is a surprising scent for Othello.  This is the sweet charm and warmth that won Desdemona’s heart, not the cold rage that stopped it. Alkemia Midnight Garden (tuberose, honeysuckle, gardenia and lily): As gorgeous and fresh a white floral as this is, I love to wear this one to bed and fantasize about what palace I am falling asleep in.  A versatile evocative blend that does not always involve a mediaeval castle in my mind, but works for it perfectly. BPAL Morgause (night-blooming flowers, violet, purple fruits and mediaeval incense): Sweet incense burning amidst the ancient tomes of a witch’s library, with a delicate window open, outside of which is... you guessed it! A mediaeval garden!  BPAL Bess (rosemary, orange blossom, five roses, grape, lemon peel and mint): And yes, another Elizabethan scent, but that note list. I get all of them on my skin, and the way they balance each other out is just beautiful.  Sweet fruity grape is balanced by mint and lemon on one end, the nearly spicy unmistakeable note of rosemary, and a hint of beautiful flowers. 

And everything else I’ve left out.... How can I do a mediaeval post and leave out Lipstick Queen’s Medieval lipstick?  It’s simple: I’ve, sadly, lost my tube. It was battered and squished and in general a mess, but I loved it, and now it is gone.  However, any fine wash of red pigment will do to look pinched in a pinch!  I would also be remiss to leave out the beautiful music of Hildegard von Bingen, who was an idol to me as a child and teenager, the much more recent music of the Mediaeval Baebes or Katharine Blake’s other, much more gothic project, Miranda Sex Garden, or any of the iterations of Victor Hugo’s Notre Dame de Paris I am wholly in love with.  I recommend both beautiful musicals highly - the Cocciante musical is, like the novel, especially concerned with dating the story to that particular vibrant, crumbling, awe-inducing era in history, while the adaptation of the Disney film is much closer to a character study of its intensely sympathetic cast of characters, and they are both two of my favorite things.  Last but not least: it is the perfect time of year for drinking mulled wine, which never fails to taste, or feel, especially when heated, like something out of a previous century.

First Day (2/64)

Today’s story will focus on the intersection of magic and science in my solar/floralpunk world. I was hesistant to do that at first, but then I realized it’s my world, and I can do whatever I want to do with my world. 

So here’s a story about a nature witch named Nagi who is a member of the Planter religion which was a grassroots movement by mixed Terrann-Feino in this world. In the religion, many of the persons can work nature in some capacity, and at age 12, make compacts with a specific way of working -say farming or fishing or weather- and learn how to speak to the planet.

(BTW, Feino are similar to fae, but function a bit more like an elemental.)

As a reminder, if you’d like to track stories in this series, please keep watch on the tag #senseofzshoni. I’ll update when I can, and when it’s in my ability to do so. No pressure 2018 y’all.

Once more, this comes from @heir-to-the-diamond-throne‘s list of 64 Sensory Prompts.

No. 2: Digging your fingers into fresh dirt

Nagi Titus woke up bright and early on New Beginnings.

She stretched, soft brown arms forming a circle above her head as she locked her fingers together, cracking her knuckles as she twisted in bed, forcing herself out and onto the floor. Thankfully, Riani had warmed up the floors: she could hear the A.I. whispering all around her, setting the coffee up to brew and turning the window screens from Night Light Mode to clear so she could see the dim dawn outside. Trees and Blooms and Stars, Nagi loved nem: she knew she had life before living in partnership with an A.I., but what a paltry life if must have been.

For many citizens, today was just another Thursday, but for Nagi, it was Wood’s Day and New Beginnings: auspicious for a Planter. Not many of her kin were in the big cities: their doctrine believed that all the tech and metal and too few designated green spaces choked out the natural flow of energy that they made pacts with. To some degree, Nagi didn’t disagree: she had often wondered if she was a much more powerful witch back home.

But she’d received a calling to come to a big city, and Planters grew where they were needed. It was just their way.

Nagi didn’t bother scrubbing up in the washroom but instead opted to go downstairs to the Altar first thing. It had been the first thing she’d established when she’d moved to the neighborhood of Betweens: she’d done it before ordering a bed from the Wall. 

At first, it had been simple, glossy wooden plaques of the family, living an deceased, a few crystalized leaves in bright amber, and her want and scent sticks. Now, it was in full bloom with dried herbs and onions hanging from the ceiling, a trained and tamed bonsai on a small table, and so many scents from the burning sticks that she could burst.

“Today is the Most of days. It is the Beginning from which all come and the End of all that went. From all we go and to all we return,” Nagi whispered, bending from the waist in a deep bow. She drew her arms up, clasped her hands high above and behind her, palms together, and brought them down in front of her as she rose before breaking apart. Each time she did it, it felt like the first: such a simple movement felt so deeply sacred, rubbed her clean and made her feel like a new bloom.

“Well, time to get to working,” she whispered. “Riani, are you up?”

“Ah, good morning Na-sankta,” Riani greeted. “Coffee’s done and there’s a bit of banana bread left.”

“I’ll eat after. I’m itching to get out. You ready?”

“One moment, just switching. I want to see you this morning,” nir low voice replied. “I wanna get all pretty.”

“Y’always want to see me and you're always pretty,” Nagi whispered, and she felt a sharp blush ping through her body.

A pulse sounded deep in the house as the A.I. shifted forms, then a figure stepped from around the corner: a tall figure with navy hair, sharp green eyes, and pale skin dotted with golden freckles in linens and a wide-brimmed hat. Nagi felt a fresh blush tear through her as Riani stepped forward into her space, tentatively, then all at once.

This was the only thing that Nagi surely loved about the city, and she showed that by standing on tip-toe and pressing a kiss to Riani’s soft, silicon lips. Riani wouldn’t have been allowed back home: Nagi’s panjo would have considered it Cursed Work and Blight, though Riani was sweet as the season’s first honeycomb.

“Morning my bloom,” Riani said, low voice hitching. “Do you ever get used to that?” ne asked, tilting nir head. Nagi watched as Riani licked his lips

“No, and I certainly hope I don’t,” Nagi managed.

“Me either. I’ll keep from downloading any understanding of kisses for the rest of my existence even.” Nagi chuckled at Riani’s earnest nature, something that had been built up after years. Out of the box A.I. were so straight-laced, but as soon as Nagi had splurged on a kit for her then friend, now Partner, Riani had become humanly shy and honest, though it felt important to let them still be what they truly were.

They paused together for a moment until Riani remember there was coffee, then they went and filled thermo-pots and got out the hover tray. Without question, they both walked back upstairs then to the small hoverpad at the end. Pressed together, tray included, they fit comfortably in the snug space and Riani snapped, commanding it to go up.

They popped out onto the roof and just stood. It was quiet in Betweens, and Nagi appreciated that. Though she loved City Center and liked the brilliance of The Gig and Tech City and certainly loved all that Suko’rah’a gave to its residences, the city could be too much for a village girl like her. She’d rather a quiet that mimicked Hisu’s peaceable hills and low-tech homes than the glitz and glam of a City Highrise.

Nagi held for a moment longer, let her feet tap on the cool, smooth eco-fiber roof as she observed the flat expanse. Six long beds of dirt were set in deep troughs down at least two meters: enough for the roots to breath and avoid tangling too bad. Nagi had turned those beds last night, sending the last of the Toolbots through, let their crab-claw shovels till and toss and turn until the earth was prepped for first seeding. 

It had been quietly exciting, knowing that soon, she’d have new friends to commune with, that she’d be speaking life into the new growth of plants: flowers for A Cut Above below her apartments, vegetables and fruits for dinners and dyes, and a dedicated plot for wheat so she could have real bread and not the synthesized crap that city-folks like to chomp on.

The earth looked soft as a bed, and Nahi was tempted to lay in it and let her body work it, let her wordwork coax green buds and soft, dewy petals out months before they should come, but she didn’t: it wouldn’t be good for her nor the dirt. Instead, she didn’t do the latter, but she did lay, and let her feet and hands dig deep.

It really was bed soft, like her bed back home: the one stuffed with feathers that she and her siblings had collected the summer before Akira had turned 13 and become too cool to spend time outside in the river. The one before Nagi had turned 12 and started academy for wordworking. The memory came up and Nagi felt like laughing and crying, so she did, sound bleeding out over the roof.

Tumble, tumble, tumble: Nagi let the mess of wet earth stick to her skin and clothes. “You’re like a horse,” Riani teased, but that didn’t stop Nagi from tumbling again, from upsetting the neat rows with more digging, from pressing her thoughts of good harvest and deep roots and love into the dirt. Who cared anyways: the Toolbots would fix them again before the midnight seeding.

When she got up, her brown skin was streaked darker, and she smelled like wet days. Nagi hadn’t planned on a scrubbed, but now she entertained the idea of asking Riani to wash her back like how her mother had, to soak in the giant, wood tub tucked in the workshop for a while.

For now though, she wanted the sight creeping in at the corners of her eyes: the sun, a sliver of yellow stretching over the horizon, unobscured by the towers and tiers of city buildings. She wanted the stretch of pink chased by orange that bloomed so far away, signaling the start to Today.

She looked at the beds right as Riani came up, coffee mug in hand, hovertray bobbing in the light breeze, and sighed. It wasn’t Home, and would never be, but Between was a good place for Second Home, here with Riani. With a sigh, Nagi adjusted, let Riani slip and press behind her, nir warm body keeping the early spring tickle from being too cold.

“Not half bad, ne, amanto?” she whispered intimately right as Riani wrapped an arm about her soft, thick waist and together, they watched the dawn creep across the horizon, ready to start a new day.

Beauté Florale

BY ALISE MARIE

In the dream of a woman as a flower, she is nestled deep within. Embraced by silken petals she sleeps infused with scent, cloaked in the dew of youth eternally kissed by its beauty. She awakens as her petals unfurl, revealing to all the world a most exquisite bloom.

All women possess the bewitching beauty of flowers. In the wild meadows and the cultivated gardens, myriad varieties blossom endlessly, each its own work of art. The vibrant colours, intoxicating fragrances, and sheer variety mirror the vast splendour of women. Though we are pressured to think differently, the truth is this: Whether maiden, mother, or crone, that beauty need not fade. It will evolve, yes—but diminish? Never. The light of the heavens and the gifts of the earth are on our side.

Wherever we are, whoever we are, our unique beauty is here to be embraced—adored even!—never to be hidden behind a locked gate. Just as the virtuosos of Art Nouveau lovingly devoted endless offerings to the grandeur of the female altar, so should you: Treat your face as if it were gently crafted of the finest silk, your body the richest velvet, your hair the plumage of the rarest bird, and your lips the sweetest petals imaginable. Because it is truth.

The ritual of beauty begins with honouring ourselves. The precious moments we capture for anointing and adorning are sacred, my loves—do not let them slip through your delicate fingers. Aided by a bit of orchestration from the Goddesses of Beauty, I’ve conjured three magic potions to assist and inspire you to conduct this hallowed rite in a manner that cherishes the beloved creature that is you, each blessed with their magic and the lush fullness of summer.

All these potions should be concocted during a new to full moon, with the intention of bringing love, beauty, abundance, and creativity to you. Visualize that ripeness, and feel the voluptuous power of the feminine divine coursing through your body from head to toe. The flowers used here can either be fresh or dried, but must always be organic. If you are wild foraging, be sure not to pick anything from near a roadside, where toxicity can alter the integrity of your harvest. As always, ask the plant first. Take care not to gather too much, and give sincere thanks.

The triple goddesses of rose, hibiscus, and jasmine are in the full moon spotlight for their marvellous magic (they will keep your skin and hair gorgeous throughout your entire life!) and for the dark romance of their sorcery. They are each immensely potent, but as a trio they are simply unstoppable, for they are witchcraft at its finest.

Rose Long revered as a sacred beauty flower, rose is highly active yet soothing. It targets fine lines and wrinkles with vitamins, minerals, and antioxidants and has a unique ability to soften, smooth, and feed both skin and hair. Rosehips (the fruit of the rose) contain a natural form of retinol, building new tissue and supporting firmness. They also have high levels of vitamin C, which repairs and stimulates new collagen.

Hibiscus Revered by the ancient Egyptians for its hydrating prowess, hibiscus is also immensely effective for keeping skin firm and increasing elasticity. It contains inhibitors that protect skin from the breaking down of elastin—a key factor in keeping skin lifted. It is also rich in vitamin C, an essential nutrient in boosting collagen, which is beneficial to both skin and hair.

Jasmine Known as “the queen of the night,” sensual jasmine is an intoxicating aphrodisiac that knows a thing about beauty. A brilliant oil for reducing fine lines and strengthening skin’s elasticity, jasmine also helps fade scars and hyperpigmentation. It strengthens the scalp and roots for healthy new growth, while imparting a gloriously protective shine to the length of your tresses.

Mane of Flowers Hair Masque Per treatment 4 tablespoons canned coconut milk, full fat 1 teaspoon rosehip oil 8 drops jasmine essential oil 8 drops rose attar

In a small bowl, spoon out the coconut cream from the top of the can. (If there isn’t a layer of cream on top, pop it in the freezer for about 10 minutes and a layer will form.) Drop in the essential oils, and then the rose attar last. Blend well.

It is important to make this potion just before using, as the cream can harden if made ahead and stored in the refrigerator.

Mist your hair and scalp liberally with water, then begin to apply using either a hair-colouring paintbrush or your fingers. Massage well into the scalp, then move onto the rest of the hair, paying close attention to the ends. Pile atop your head and secure with clips.

Let the potion sit for at least 20 minutes (you can leave it on for an hour if your hair is particularly dry or damaged), and then rinse it very well in the shower. Follow with a shampoo and a dab of your daily conditioner on the lower three-quarters section of hair. This seals it and makes for easy combing.Style as usual, and toss your mane around at will. The alluring scent will linger in your tresses, and your powder room will smell fantastic!

*Note: You can also add hibiscus tea or oil to the masque, but it may stain your hair, so it is best for darker shades … or perhaps it’s time to try a subtle rose gold tint?Coconut milk Lunar-ruled coconut is loaded with beautifying fats that deeply condition and fortify, infusing your head with both nutrients and the magic of psychic awareness.Beauty Witch Secret: Depending on your hair length, you may have leftover masque. Use it as a moisturising facial treatment to amp up your glow before a Midsummer’s Eve fête!

https://enchantedlivingmagazine.com/beaute-florale/

Plants to attract the Fae

Plants to attract the Fae - http://www.hafapea.com/thelandoffaepages/faerygarden.html Bluebells - Fairies are called to their midnight dances by ringing these little bells. They represent kindness and are the most potent of all Faery flowers. They are also called "warning bells" because it is said that one who hears a bluebell ring will soon die. They also serve to warn those who are about to travel into a bluebell glade, for these are places of consecrated Faery magick and enchantment. On Beltane Eve, make an ankle bracelet of bluebells and jingle bells to attract the helpful fae folk to you. Boxwood - It can be clipped into a topiary tree and decorated for a special Faerie events, such as a wedding. Buttercup - This flowers' faeries help to bring compassion to humans. They bring healing energy and understanding. Use this flower to rediscover yourself or to boost your self-esteem. Carnation - These faeries bring deep love. They help to strengthen one's aura, and renew one's love of life. The red ones attract faeries who heal animals. Coreopsis Cosmos Cowslips - These are loved and protected by the faeries and they help one to find hidden faerie gold. The fae use the blossoms for umbrellas. “And I serve the Faery Queen, To draw her orbs upon the green. The cowslips tall her pensioners be, In their gold coats spots you see: Those be rubies, faery favors: In those freckles live their savors. I must go to seek dome dewdrops here, And hang a pearl in every cowslips’ ear.” - Shakespeare Edmund Canterbell wrote: “That they do dwell within the cowslips hollow is truth, for I have seen them fly out in intoxicated abandon.” Crocus - These faeries have the power to inspire love but may drain your strength while collecting them. Daffodil - This flower faerie is good for inner beauty. Let it help you with meditation and clarity of thought. Daffodils are also useful for evoking faeries and elves. Daisy - This is the best flower to use to connect to the Faeries and relaxing in a daisy bed will help one to contact faeries, especially Dryads. Putting a daisy chain on a child is said to prevent faeries from beguiling the child and carrying her or him away. The daisy will also help you to awaken and use your creativity and your inner strength. Dandelion – This flower is said to be used by the faeries for making beverages. Forget-Me-Not - A symbol of love and devotion. The flowers also provide protection from faeries and are said to help to unlock the secrets of the fae. If you place forget-me-nots on the side of a mountain where fairy treasure is hidden, secret cavern walls will open up for you. Fountain butterfly bush Foxglove - (Poisonous) Folk names for foxglove include Faery Thimbles, Faery Glove, Little Folks’ Glove, Faery Fingers, Faery Petticoats, Faery’s Cap, and Faery Weed. The name is derived from "Little Folks' Glove" because the flowers are worn by fairies as gloves and hats and the little flecks found on the flowers are definitely faery fingerprints. It is a favorite of Earth Elementals. Bad luck will follow those who pick these flowers and bring them in their home. The leaves and the plant's juice are said to grant release from faery enchantments. Planting foxglove is an invitation to faeries to enter you garden. Plant it near your front door to invite the fae in to your home. Wearing foxglove is a charm to attract faery energy, put a dried sprig in a talisman to keep you surrounded by faery light. Gardenia - These bring feelings of peace and protection. These flower faeries are very protective of children, so plant Gardenias in places where children play, so the fae will watch over them. These faeries will also help to increase your telepathic abilities with all nature spirits. Heliotrope – Beloved of Fire Elementals. Harebell - These faeries inspire honesty - the person wearing them is incapable of lying. Hollyhock – Beloved of the fae, especially the pink ones. Honeysuckle - Will help to stimulate dreams and your psychic energy. These Fae will teach you how to develop your "charms" to draw others to you. Hyacinth - These help to restore belief. They will give you energy to overcome grief and awaken greater gentleness. Iris – Iris was the Greek Goddess of the rainbow, and the faeries of this flower manifest in all of the rainbow’s colors. Jasmine - These faeries will help to bring on peaceful dreams and clarity of the mind. Lamb's Ear - This wooly perennial is a pet for the Faeries - normal animals are just too big! Lavender - Where there is lavender there is great faerie activity. Faery clans like to have many parties and lavender infused wine is one of their favorites because it promotes pure knowledge. Lavender plants are also where the Faeries drape their clothes to dry. These faeries bring healing, protection and help to overcome emotional blocks and the scent of lavender in the air relieves stress. Elf leaf is another name for lavender, which is used in elfin magic. Lilac – The scent attracts musical faeries. Lily - These fae help one to nurture purity and humility within one's self. Lobelia – attracts winged faeries. Marigold - These flower faeries know the magic of thunderstorms. They will teach you the power of words and the mysteries of love. A jam made of marigolds that is eaten in the morning will help you to see faeries very soon after ingesting it. The Druids believe that Marigold water, made from the blossoms, then rubbed on the eyelids, helps one to see faeries. Morning Glory – Repels unwanted night faeries. Mums - They help to strengthen the life force. They will help you to express yourself more lovingly. New York Aster Orange-eye butterfly bush/summer lilac Orchid - Hammarbya paludosa is known as Green Faery Orchid. Pansy - Attracts parades of trooping faeries and they use these flowers for making love potions. Oberon, the faery king, used pansies in his love potion in “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”: “Yet marked I where the bolt of Cupid fell. It fell upon a little western flower; Before marked white; now with purple love’s wound – And maidens call it Love-in-idleness. Fetch me that flower, the herb I showed thee once. The juice of it on sleeping eyelids laid, Will make a man or woman madly dote Upon the next living creature that it sees.” Periwinkle - Has the ability to inspire love. One can rekindle their love by eating the leaves. Peony – Peonies are used as a charm to bring one dreams of faeries. Peony seeds were once used to protect children from faeries. A garland of the seeds were placed around the child’s neck to keep them safe from kidnappings. Poppies – Poppies are said to make you able to visit with the fae in your dreams. Petunia Phlox – This flower attracts elves who oversee and guard the plants growth. Pincushion Flower Poinsetta Primrose (especially the blue and red ones) - Has the power to reveal the invisible. Eating them will help you to see fairies. Hanging a spray of primroses on your door is said to be an invitation to the fae to enter your home, and to draw fairy blessings; but scattering primroses outside your door is said to keep faeries away by making a barrier that they can’t cross.Touching a Faery rock with the right number of primroses (5) can open the pathway to the Faery realm. Beware, however, the wrong number may open the door to a place you don't want to be. Also, if you have them growing under your care, do not let them die! The faeries will take your carelessness as a serious offense. Primroses make great container gardens and can be used in Faery Magick. Tie a pink ribbon around your container while chanting: "Sacred roses, hear my cry, For your protection, this I tie." Pussywillow Ragwort - Used as makeshift horses by the faerie. The magick words used to make the stems fly are, “Horse and Hattock.” Roses (they grow best when stolen) - Roses are very special to the Fae's sisters, the Angels. They give you a greater sense of love and they hold the secrets of time and its exploration. The petals can be used in Faery Magick, especially love spells. When performing the spell, sprinkle rose petals under your feet, and dance softly upon them, while asking the faeries for their blessing on your magick. White roses - help to develop spiritual purity. Red roses - Are good for love and fertility. Pink Roses - are for new life and a symbol of a new beginning. Yellow roses - these Fae help you to express the truth. When planting a baby rose bush chant: "I ask a faery from the wild to come and tend this wee rose child. A babe of air she thrives today, root her soul in the Goddess' good clay. Faeries make this twig your bower, by your magic shall time see her flower." Shrubby cinquefoil Snapdragon - Hold these flowers secretly in your hand and others will see you as gracious and fascinating. This plant and where it grows are watched over by tiny dragons. The faeries and spirits of this flower have connections to the energies of all dragons and, therefore, bring great protection for all from deceit and curses. Thistles – Thistles are also called Pixies’ Gloves, because the fae use their tiny flowers as such. Tulip – These faeries hold the knowledge of the hidden significance of events, people and things. Violet - The violet is the home of the Faery Queen and, therefore, sacred to all faeries. Picking the first violets of spring will bring one good luck, and a chance to ask the Fae to grant them a wish to be fulfilled within the year. White Lotus - Some believe that the white lotus flowers are nymphs in disguise. A woman can carry this flower to counter the effect of unwanted love spells. Zinnia Plants for a Night Garden The goal here is to plant a garden that will attract bats, owls and crickets. Use alba or white flowers because their iridescent colour will stand out in the darkness. Also be sure to include some noctiflora (flowers that bloom at night), especially those that have a strong sweet smell such as night blooming jasmine, tobacco plant, four o'clock flowers, dame's violet, sweet rocket, and sweet woodruff. Building a belfry will attract bats and having a compost heap will attract mice and, therefore, owls to feed on them. So far as I know crickets aren't really something one needs to try to attract, they're just pretty much everywhere...

Meet, Meadowsweet.

Meadowsweet is a perennial herb of the rose family that is native throughout most of Europe and Western Asia. It has been introduced and naturalised in North America. You can find it flowering from June to September in wet habitats, such as ditches, damp woodlands and meadows, along river banks, and beside ponds.

It has deeply veined leaflets held on arching stems that are topped with fluffy sprays of creamy-white, five-petaled flowers, each with over twenty protruding stamens. These flowers have a very strong, sweet scent. The flower sprays can be up to 25cm in width.

It plays an important role in ecosystems. The larvae of several moth species, including Emperor, Brown Spot Pinion, Grey pug, Hebrew Character, Lime-speck Pug, Mottled Beauty, Lesser Cream Wave, and Satellite, use it as a food plant. The flowers also attract a wide variety of other insects, including pollinators such as bee, butterfly and hoverfly, whilst the seeds provide food for birds. 

This delicate, sweetly scented flower has many names. Its Latin name is Filipendula ulmaria. The genus name, Filipendula, is an amalgamation of ‘filum’ meaning thread, and ‘pendulus’, meaning drooping – which is thought to refer to the root tubers which hang together by threads. It’s species name, ulmaria, comes from the Latin word ‘ulmus’, meaning elm. This is due to the shape of the plant’s leaves. 

Chaucer, in ‘The Knight’s Tale’, called it Meadwort, or Medwort, and named it as one of the fifty ingredients included in the drink, ‘save’. It has the name Bridewort because it was both strewn in churches for festivals and weddings, and was also used for bridal garlands. Names such as Queen of the Meadow, Pride of the Meadow, Lady of the Meadow and Meadow Queen were given to it because of the way in which it can dominate a damp low-lying meadow. It is also known as Meadow-wort, Bittersweet, Dollof, and Meadsweet. It’s Gaelic names include Ius Cuchulainn, and Rios Cuchulainn, as Irish legend tells of how the legendary warrior, Cuchulainn was treated with Meadowsweet baths in order to cure his uncontrollable rage and fevers.

There is other folklore connected with Meadowsweet, as well. In Welsh mythology, the magicians Math and Gwydion created a beautiful maiden out of the flowers of Meadowsweet, Broom, and Oak. She was made for one purpose only – to be a wife to the hero, Lleu Llaw Gyffes, who had been placed under a tynged by his mother, Arianrhod, that he would never have a human wife. She was named Blodeuwedd, meaning ‘flower-faced’. The story goes that Blodeuwedd took a lover, Gronw Pedr, and together they conspired, unsuccessfully, to murder her husband. As punishment, Blodeuwedd was transformed into an owl, to be forever shunned by the denizens of the daylight hours.

And Gwydion said to Math, when it was Spring: “Come now and let us make a wife for Llew.” And so they broke broad boughs yet moist with dew, And in a shadow made a magic ring: They took the violet and the meadow-sweet To form her pretty face, and for her feet They built a mound of daisies on a wing, And for her voice they made a linnet sing In the wide poppy blowing for her mouth. And over all they chanted twenty hours. And Llew came singing from the azure south And bore away his wife of birds and flowers. By Francis Ledwidge

Other folk beliefs include the plant’s use in love spells and potions. When strewn about the house it is said to bring peace, and the scent of Meadowsweet is said to cheer the heart. If you gather it on Midsummer’s Day, Meadowsweet can give information regarding thieves – just place the Meadowsweet on water. If it sinks, the thief is a man; if it floats, it is a woman. Garlands of Meadowsweet worn at Lammas are said to join the wearer with the essence of the Goddess.

In addition to this, Meadowsweet is also a bringer of courage. In Russian folklore, Kudryash, the bravest knight in his village, one day became terrified that death stalked him. He could no longer fight and when a band of thieves came to the village, Kudryash was too scared to help. He was so ashamed of his cowardice that he fled to the river, intending to drown himself, but out of the water emerged a beautiful maiden who gave him a garland made out of Meadowsweet flowers. She told him that he would be unharmed if he wore the garland into battle. He returned to the village, wore the garland and defeated the thieves. 

Other folklore claims that where Meadowsweet grows there are no snakes, which can also mean, therefore, that there is no evil present.

If you have a lot of it growing, Meadowsweet is a lovely plant to harvest for use. The green parts have a similar aromatic flavour to the scent of the flowers, and it can be included in jams and stewed fruit to add a pleasant almond taste. It has traditionally been used to flavour vinegar, wine, beer, and mead – which is the origin of many ‘mead’ related names. The 17th century English botanist, physician and herbalist, Nicholas Culpeper, recommended that a leaf of Meadowsweet should be added to a cup of claret wine, to give it a ‘fine relish’.

Today, Meadowsweet is one of the thirty herbs and spices that is added to the popular Norfolk punch cordial drink. This is made following an authentic medieval recipe that was originally made by the monks of Norfolk.

Historically, it was a popular strewing-plant, commonly scattered over floors in order to keep rooms sweet smelling.

The leaves and floures of Meadowsweet farre excelle all other strowing herbs for to decke up houses, to strawe in chambers, halls and banqueting-houses in the summer-time, for the smell thereof makes the heart merrie and joyful and delighteth the senses.

John Gerard, 16th Century botanist

It was a particular favourite of Queen Elizabeth I of England, who liked it to be used in her chambers. Having plants strewn over the floors isn’t really acceptable in a modern house, but Meadowsweet can be dried and included in pot pouri for a similar affect. 

In addition to this, the roots of Meadowsweet produce a black dye and the leaves a blue pigment, which makes it perfect for those who wish to use natural materials for their art or craft work. Meadowsweet is possibly most well known for its medicinal uses.This is mainly because it contains salycilic acid, a compound that is similar to Aspirin. As such it has pain-killing properties. Salicylic acid was first produced in 1838 by the Italian scientist, Rafaele Piria, from the flowerbuds of Meadowsweet and from the bark of the Willow tree (Salix alba). The name, ‘Aspirin’ that was given to acetylsalicylic acid after it was created by the company Bayer in 1899, actually comes from the old botanical name for Meadowsweet – Spiraea ulmaria.

It can be steeped in water to make a relieving tea, useful for managing aches and pains, particularly for those suffering from colds and flu. It can, though, be a little harsh on the digestive system. The plant’s digestive effects mean that it has traditionally been a go-to herb for those suffering from indigestion, flatulence, and diarrhoea. It protects and soothes the mucous membranes of the digestive tract, reducing excess acidity and alleviating nausea. It can also be used as a treatment for heartburn, hyperacidity, gastritis and peptic ulceration. Salicylic acid has anti-inflammatory properties, making it an effective treatment for rheumatic pain.

The tannins and mucilages found in Meadowsweet appear to limit some of the adverse effects common to the salicylates – such as those that can cause gastric bleeding (Aspirin can cause gastric ulceration). Care should still be taken with the use of Meadowsweet, however, as salicylic acid also acts as a blood thinner. This can cause internal bleeding, and prevents wounds from clotting. Use should be halted a week before admission to hospital for surgery.

If you’d like to find out more, these are the sites that I collected my information from:

Wildlife Trusts

Wikipedia

Woodland Trust

Eat Weeds

Wight Druids

This post is for 365 Days Wild, day 65.

Meet a Plant: Meadowsweet #365DaysWild Meet, Meadowsweet. Meadowsweet is a perennial herb of the rose family that is native throughout most of Europe and Western Asia.