#me talking about witchcraft like super casually

[arsonist-twink]

i think its a lot more fun when i dont have all my information about myself constantly in my bio ngl

[abandoned-anemoia]

Embrasing the Living

☯ Pairing: ghost!Lee Felix x gn!reader ☯ Genre: angst?, fluff ☯ Word count: 1.6k ☯ Summary: You move in to an old, abandoned house rumored to be haunted, and encounter a ghost named Felix who is trapped by a curse. As you grow closer, you attempt to break the curse. Together, you defy supernatural boundaries, discovering a love that transcends life and death. ☯ Warnings: curses/witchcraft?, ghost shit ☯ A/N: This is really bad, I'm sorry lol. It's SUPER cliche and kinda feels like Beauty and the Beast in a way... But! Since it is almost Halloween and I didn't really have time to do Kinktober, I figured I would write a few spooky specials. Please Let me know if I need to add any warnings! ☯Disclaimer: None of my work represents any of the idols included in any way. This is merely fictional and all based on my opinion as a joke! I have nothing against any of these idols and love them all dearly.

Please do not copy, translate, or post as your own!

In a quiet corner of the world, nestled amidst a lush forest, there stood an old, weather-beaten house. Its timeworn facade exuded an eerie charm that only that of an abandoned place could possess. It had been uninhabited for years, with rumors of supernatural occurrences whispered amongst the people, talk of a young man that had disappeared a few years prior. But one fateful day, you decided to make it your home. The house, with its creaky wooden floors and ancient charm, seemed like the perfect place for you to begin a new chapter in your life.

You had always been drawn to unconventional choices, and this house, with its dark and complex history, intrigued you. It was the ideal refuge for a writer, seeking solitude and inspiration from the cryptic household. You packed your bags, said your goodbyes to your old place, and moved into the mysterious abode, ready to confront whatever secrets it held.

The first few weeks in your new home were uneventful, save for the occasional creaking floorboard, blown fuse, or rattling window. You had always been a pragmatic person, dismissing the unsettling sounds as the byproduct of an old house settling into its solitude. You even joked about possibly having a new houseguest.

"Maybe I should start charging rent for my ghostly roommate," You'd chuckle as a stray object fell to the floor for no apparent reason.

Little did you know that your casual jests were not as far from the truth as you had believed.

One crisp autumn night, as you sit at your desk, the air suddenly grew icy. Goosebumps erupt on your arms, and you feel an inexplicable sense of unease. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a small porcelain vase teetering on the edge of the shelf. Before you can react, it topples over and crashes onto the hardwood floor, shattering into a million little pieces. 

Startled, you jump up, your heart racing, and stare at the wreckage. You know there was no logical explanation for this incident.

"Okay, that's enough!" you exclaim, half-irritated and half-frightened, "If you want attention, you've got it."

Silence follows, but you can't shake the feeling that you are not alone in your house. You turn off the lights, crawl under your blankets, and try to convince yourself that it was just a coincidence. 

The following days brought more unexplained occurrences. Books flew off the shelves, curtains swayed without a breeze, and eerie whispers filled the air. Your initial annoyance evolved into a fascination, and you couldn't help but feel a strange connection with whatever entity shared your home. Nothing ever harmed you, nor was it ever even close to causing you more anguish than just the trouble of cleaning up the messes.

One night, as you sit in the dimly lit living room, reading a book by the fireplace, you whisper into the shadows, "Alright, if you're here, give me a sign."

The room seems to hold its breath for a moment before a soft knocking echoed through the walls. You chuckle, your fear subsiding, "That's more like it. You really know how to make an entrance."

But your light-hearted banter was about to take a serious turn.

As the weeks passed, the disturbances grew bolder. You would sometimes wake up in the middle of the night to find your furniture rearranged or your possessions scattered across the room. You couldn't ignore the fact that these events were beyond the realm of natural explanation.

One evening, as you sit in your kitchen, the power in your home goes out. A long sigh leaves your lips as you light the few candles you had gathered. 

Once settled into a dining room chair, a sudden gust of wind extinguishes all of the candles. You feel a presence behind you, a gentle, almost comforting energy. Slowly, you turn around and gasp.

There, standing before you, is a faint, ethereal figure of a young man, freckles littered across his cheeks. He looks about your age, with shaggy brown hair and curious, chocolate eyes. You can't help but feel a strange sense of nostalgia, as if you've known him your entire life.

"Hi," You whisper, your voice quivering.

The ghostly boy smiled warmly and nodded.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding. "You're real? You're not just some figment of my imagination?"

The boy gestured to himself and the room, as if to say, "Do I look imaginary to you?"

You let out a nervous laugh, realizing you were talking to a ghost, "Okay, this is not what I expected when I moved in here. What’s your name?"

He nods again, seeming to understand your confusion. He points to his throat, then shakes his head sadly.

"You can't talk?" you asked, your heart aching for the lost voice.

The freckled boy raises a hand, indicating to the pen and paper on the kitchen table that you had been using to write your drafts prior to the power going out. You grab them and hand them to him. With shaky hands, he writes, "Felix.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Felix. I’m y/n. Why can’t you speak?” You look at him expectantly with a sad smile.

He begins writing again, “I’m cursed."

Your eyes widened as you read the words, "Cursed? How?"

Felix wrote out his story in painstaking detail. He explained how he had once lived in this very house, how he had been a curious and adventurous young man. But one day, he had stumbled upon an old, dusty book hidden in the attic—the Book of Shadows. Ignoring the warnings scrawled on its pages, he had tried to perform a forbidden spell. A stupid thing, he admitted. 

The spell had gone awry, and Felix had been consumed by a powerful curse. He was trapped in a state between life and death, unable to speak, touch, or feel the warmth of the living until the curse was broken. His only solace in his five years of torture was the occasional glimpse into the world of the living, and that's when you moved in.

Tears well up in your eyes as you read Felix's tragic tale. You could see the regret and sorrow in his eyes, even if he couldn't express them in words. You reach out your hand to touch his, to instinctively comfort him in some way, but your fingers pass right through his form.

Determination ignited in your heart, "We'll find a way to break the curse, Felix. I promise."

Felix's eyes sparkled with gratitude and hope.

From that day on, you and Felix became inseparable, despite the physical barrier that separated you. You spent hours researching spells, curses, and anything related to the occult. For weeks, the two of you combed through dusty old books, scoured the internet, and consulted experts in the paranormal. 

You found yourself looking forward to your conversations with Felix, cherishing the moments you spent together. You couldn't help but admire his kindness, humor, and the way he had a knack for making you smile even in the darkest of times.

As you delved deeper into your quest, your fascination with Felix grew into something more profound. You admired his resilience and kindness, despite his tragic fate, brought on by being too curious. You found yourself talking to him about your hopes, dreams, and fears, as if he were your most trusted confidant.

And Felix, in turn, was captivated by your spirit and determination. He had watched you from the shadows for so long, afraid to scare you with his presence, but now, he could truly know you. He longed to touch you, to hold your hand, to feel the warmth of your embrace. But the curse remained an insurmountable barrier.

One evening, as you pore over a particularly ancient text, your voice quivers with frustration, "I can't figure it out, Felix. How do we break this curse? There must be something we're missing."

Your love for each other, deep and true, seemed doomed by the curse that bound Felix to the house. But as you sit together in the dimly lit living room, upset by the lack of answers, your hands brush against one other, sending a spark of energy through both of you. Astonished, you reach out again, and this time, your fingers meet warm skin.

In that moment, the power of your love shattered the curse. It wasn't just about finding a solution to the problem; it was about the love that had grown between you.

Felix's form solidified, his translucent figure taking on a warm, human touch. Tears of joy streamed down your face as you hugged him tightly.

Your bond had deepened into something beautiful and profound. It was a love that transcended the physical, a connection that went beyond the tangible. Your love remained unwavering, a beacon of hope in the darkest of times as you attempted to figure out just how you could free Felix, but it seems it was this love that held the key to breaking the curse that had imprisoned Felix for so long.

In that moment, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, bound by a love that had conquered the darkest of curses. He pulls you close as you hold onto each other, savoring the feeling of your hearts beating as one. And as you embraced, you knew that you had found something truly magical—a love that defied all odds, a love that would last for all eternity.

You were no longer separated by the veil of the supernatural world. Now, you were free to be together, in love, in your charming old house that was no longer haunted. Your love had triumphed over the curse that had held Felix captive for so long, proving that love truly knows no boundaries, not even those between the living and the "dead".

[lazywitchling]

Okay, book review time. I meant to have it up this morning, but I had to go shopping for xmas dinner ingredients. It was chaos. Anyway.

This is Weave the Liminal by Laura Tempest Zakroff.

Rating: 6/10 [On my rating scale, 5 is neutral, and books will either drop down towards 0 (awful) or rise to 10 (amazing)]

Summary: It's fine, check it out if it's your thing. It's a bit like Rebel Witch in that it's not gonna tell you how to do anything, but will give you an overview and permission to do what you want.

Full review below the cut.

I kept saying to some witch friends that reading this book is like having a very smart argument with someone you fundamentally disagree with. I appreciate Laura's perspective, I can tell she knows what she's doing, but we are approaching witchcraft from two wildly different places.

I finally put my finger on it in the last five pages. Laura is coming from a foundation of Witches Are Special. I'm coming from a foundation of Witches Are Just People.

The whole book is sprinkled with so much about witches-as-liminal-beings and witches-as-protectors-of-the-community and things like that. So many times Laura will say something about how witches are just better at listening to people because we're in tune with their energies, or that people gravitate toward us because we're so in tune with ourselves. And I'm like... "Laura, I'm just vibing here." I almost expected her to bring out the "With great power comes great responsibility" speech. Whereas for me, I'm approaching it as witches can be super enlightening individuals who help you put your life into perspective, and witches can be complete assholes for no reason. Most witches will fall more in the middle of the scale and fluctuate toward asshole or enlightenment depending on the day and how sleepy or hangry they are, just like any other person.

Throwing a metaphor on here: It's like how you can have a chef at a five-star restaurant talking about how cooking is art and how it nourishes the body and crafts an experience for the soul... vs a dungeon master who is just trying to throw together a snack for D&D tonight because they forgot to buy pizza rolls. Either one of them talking about their cooking process might completely alienate the other. Neither one is wrong, they're just approaching the topic of cooking from completely different places.

All that is to say that a lot of my hangups about this book are because of that foundational difference. There's bits where she talks about the witch as a captain of a ship, guiding others through a sea of the unknown. Near the end she talks about how most people want to stay content with what they know and are comfortable with, but it's witches who want to expand out and learn more about the world and universe around us. It was hilarious timing when I was reading that particular bit because I had NASA TV playing in the background with all these nerdy astrophysicists excitedly talking about exploring the unknown. Laura just really likes to pin very general human experiences on being Very Special Witchy Things.

Biggest red flag was one bit also near the end where she talked about how women are taught in society to be quiet and not rock the boat too much, so we as witches need to fight against that instinct. I'm like... Laura, hon, what about the witches who aren't women? So... didn't love that, but at least it was a small section? Just be aware of that. It's not a significant portion of this book, and it's casual enough to have been accidental, but it's there.

The thing is, Laura will go on about how you shouldn't judge another witch's craft, or pay attention to those who judge yours, that the only thing that matters is what works for you (yay!). But then she talks about her own personal craft, and gets a little bit... opinionated? About things that don't jive with her? It's an odd little juxtaposition. She doesn't ever really say that things are wrong, she just maybe spends a little too much time on what doesn't work for her.

Also as I said in the summary up top, this isn't a book where you're going to learn how to do anything. Like in Kelly-Ann Maddox's Rebel Witch, Laura is not going to give you any step-by-step instructions on how to do stuff, she's just going to mention that you can. She'll give you topics to think about and explore on your own, and ask foundational questions for you to ponder as you build your own craft. I wouldn't use this one as a baby's-first-witch-book. It's not going to be great for someone who just wants to poke around in witchy stuff to see if it's for them, it's more for someone who has decided that it is for them, and now they want to start building a regular practice.

Look, I've got a lot of complaints about this book. It wasn't my vibe. But overall it's not a bad book, it just wasn't for me, and that's okay. If you're a little closer to the five-star-chef persuasion than the DM-snacks persuasion, then you might enjoy this one. I just personally like the 'let's fuck around with magic' topics more than the 'we are responsible for the cosmos' ones.

But, to be fair to Laura, this book is what helped me figure that out. So overall, a net gain.

See? Just like having a very smart discussion with a friend you fundamentally disagree with.

[themostop]

I don’t really know how I want to start this post because every way I try to phrase it in my head, I feel like I come off as really ignorant and offensive, but the point I want to make with this post is that I feel like I, and I guess many others, have been really ignorant and offensive and I’m looking for people to tell me if that’s the case and if it is what’s the best way to go about not being that way anymore? I just wanted to start with that so that people know that I’m making this post looking to be educated or at least pointed in the direction of good resources to be educated. I’m not trying to make this post to complain or anything like that.

So anyway, the reason I’m making this is because it was just been pointed out to me that the, for lack of a better way of putting this with the current information I have, “g-word” for Romani people is actually an offensive slur. I started hearing recently from some people that it was offensive, but it was always said so casually I assumed it was like how so many people around me growing up (and still sometime now) would use gay as an insult. But I just heard a YouTuber saying it’s a slur and apologizing for using it inappropriately and I was thinking to myself “uhhhh, I did not know this. What?!” So I looked it up and found many other articles agreeing that the term is not only offensive, but a slur.

This was very surprising to me because the word has always been used super casually everywhere I’ve ever heard it. Unlike the n-word or the f-word. And like, people who would never dare say those two words were, and still are, perfectly comfortable using the g-word. (So I guess this is giving me a new perspective on all the people I’ve heard saying they didn’t know those two words were offensive, whom I’ve previously judged.)

Anyway, I’m willing to accept that the g-word is a slur. I won’t argue about what is or isn’t offensive to a group I’m not a part. But I guess what I’m wondering is, how active should I be about ensuring that this word isn’t used? Like “The Hunchback of Notre Dame” is one of my favorite musicals, but the word is used extremely commonly throughout it. If a local theatre is going to put on a production of Hunchback, should I avoid auditioning and boycott the show? Should I tell others to do the same? Should I tell the director to consider doing a different show, even though I really like it? Or should I advise them to simply censor it? Swap out the g-word for words like Romoni? Or is it actually not a big deal and I shouldn’t worry about it?

Similarly if I were to cover songs like “No Roots” or the songs from the My Little Pony: Friendship Is Witchcraft parody that use the word, should I censor it? Or would you recommend I avoid the song all together?

I tried googling this stuff, but only found people saying that it is a slur, but not how to handle situations like the ones I’ve mentioned. Though, it also seems like not many people are talking about it? Like, I’ve never really heard it brought up before, at least not super seriously. I found stuff when I looked for it, sure, but it was also only after I went out of my way to look for it. So I guess I’m also kind of wondering why it hasn’t really been brought up that much? Is it like how there are some people in the LGBTQ+ community say that “queer” is a slur, but most people don’t think of it that way and for the most part it’s seen as an acceptable word to use? Or is it more like the word “sus” in the sense that it’s been so removed from its original context that it’s widely accepted to just be a separate and perfectly fine word, and there are just some people upset about it? Or is it that this is just an underrepresented issue and more people SHOULD be talking about it, but for whatever reason the conversations just aren’t happening enough?

Ultimately, I know that this is an issue pertaining to an oppressed and underrepresented group of people that I am not a part of and I want to hear the perspectives of people who are part of this community. So if there are any Romani people who happen to see this message and don’t mind taking the time to educate some random white guy on the internet, I’d greatly appreciate it.

[rot10fruits]

please dont be an asshole or a hater on my blog especially racists and anti-lgbtq, please fuck off

[also under 16 tread lightly / mostly dni cuz i talk about wild shit sometimes. plus my fave shows are rated tv-14]

this is my "stuff" blog. just everything i like that i also want to keep aside from my other more focused blogs.

i'm 18. i use she/her pronouns. i am bisexual. i have a masc nb partner of 5 years who is the light of my life. i am mixed white and ojibwe/odawa. i live in the very top of the pnw and love that fresh air. i am autistic and suffer from agoraphobia.

please follow me if u don't meet any of the prior criteria and are into this stuff :

american dad, king of the hill, futurama, bobs burgers, rick and morty, family guy, the simpsons, south park, dan vs., aqua teen hunger force, smiling friends, xavier renegade angel, my name is earl, trailer park boys, it's always sunny in philadelphia, seinfeld

[i do not partake in discourse about any media, my favorite shows can regularly make fun of marginalized groups or concepts and while i understand how harmful it can be and that it will make people uncomfortable - i am also part of some of those marginalized groups and i can still find the humor and/or ignorance within it. i see no reason to police the things that other people watch on tv]

[i take adult animation very seriously, i am deeply attached to american dad (and king of the hill/ family guy but to lesser degrees) and have been since childhood. it is my main special interest. i rewatch episodes literally every day of my life and have for about 4 years. i am in the process of writing my own fan episodes. my favorite characters are haley and roger, but i love the whole smith family.]

my little pony g4, adventure time, amazing world of gumball, craig of the creek, total drama, teen titans and teen titans go, chowder, regular show, victorious, icarly, the garfield show, most pokémon shows

aggretsuko, panty and stocking, mob psycho 100, one punch man, dr. stone. (i was a major anime and manga fan in 2014-2016 - blue exorcist, soul eater, the devil is a part timer, free!, ouran high school host club, food wars, sword art online, fruits basket, tokyo mew mew just to name a few). i have recently gotten into the precure series, with my favorites being tropical rouge, delicious party, and kirakira a la mode.

shopkins, squishmallows, tokidoki, rainbow high dolls , num noms (r.i.p) and other random cute toys and plush

casual to gourmet cooking / gastronomy (big fan of sweets of all kinds)

vampires (i am also a sanguinarian vampire and focus more on that at my blog @sanguinep0wer), gothic literature, gothic fashion genres, gothic horror, kawaii culture, visual kei

the sims 4, world of warcraft, tf2, minecraft, stardew valley, am overwatch 1 veteran, indie horror games. used to be into comic books but only DC (teen titans were my fave)

goth music aka darkwave, post punk, gothic/doom metal. also into numetal, experimental, and spooky sounding electro pop. (aural vampire, the cure, tiamat, to/die/for, cradle of filth, sisters of mercy , insane clown posse, aphex twin etc) some breakcore, and mid to late 2000's rap/pop music, sometimes nightcore'd. (akon, eminem, britney spears, rihanna, etc). i also used to be really really into vocaloid, i am still but much less so. my music taste is kinda all over the place honestly but i like what i like

i am interested in spirituality, specifically law of attraction and manifestation. i also am kinda starting to get back into ritual "witchcraft" worship of Dionysus but im trying to get as close to original/proper sources as possible before officially starting

i am also super into art specifically abstract and surrealism / dreamlike paintings, i use both dark harsh colors and softer pastel colors depending on what i'm trying to convey. i am planning a large project for april or may this year

[if i use improper terminology when talking about my interests pls be kind i am incredibly socially awkward and really don't get the chance to interact with fellow interest community members so i may not be up to date on everything. i am always looking for more friends! thank u for reading this far :) ]

[tears-that-heal]

When the reality tv series, LA Ink, was originally showed, I casually followed Kat Von D on social media. I’ve even purchased from her cosmetic line, which is amazing quality makeup by the way. She being an artist and her involvement in witchcraft and the occult, I say a little of myself in her; my past old self. Now within the past year or so, she’s publically denounced her old way of life for a life with Jesus Christ! This exciting news made me feel super ecstatic for her and her family. Regardless of the backlash she’s received on her recent baptism video, but she’s seems to be managing it with strides. Haters will be haters. Congratulations, Kat! 😄 ✝️ ❤️

(video link: Kat’s baptism)

[mattievictoria]

Cursed Plants and Witch Trees

“Mountains overawe and oceans terrify, while the mystery of great forests exercises a spell peculiarly its own.” 

—Algernon Blackwood, The Willows

The above quotation is from Algernon Blackwood’s 1907 preeminent horror novella, The Willows, a story that’s stayed with me since I first read it years ago. I'm a huge fan of anything that falls under the category of “Spooky Nature” (if you haven’t figured that out by now!) and Blackwood’s novellas and short stories like The Willows and The Man Whom The Trees Loved hold a special place in my creepy, tree-hugging heart. When I sat down to write this, I wanted to take a cue from Algernon Blackwood’s book (quite literally!) and write something about cursed and/or haunted trees. HOWEVER, during the course of my deep-dive into the Vegetable Kingdom (as Blackwood referred to it in his many writings) I found that all of it super Cursed— yes, Cursed with a capital C, because we’re talking Serious Business here. So, I’ve expanded my original idea beyond trees to include a variety of frightening flora, and I’ve chosen four plants to discuss: Elder Trees, Parsley (you’ll be surprised! Parsley is exceptionally Cursed), Hemlock, and of course, The Willow. I hope you’re prepared to take a casual stroll through the deep, dark woods. Take caution, however; there may be something foul and eldritch hiding in the underbrush… 

Elder 

 In his book Plant Lore, Legends, and Lyrics, Richard Folkard relates an incredible Russian proverb: From all old trees proceeds either an owl or a devil. If there was a tree from whence the devil sprung forth from the fiery depths of hell, it would be the Elder. The nefarious reputation of the Elder dates back thousands of years, and in pre-Christian Europe, the Elder Tree was associated with magic and  witchcraft. A type of dryad known as Hylde-Moer, or The Elder Tree Mother, was said to inhabit the Elder Trees of Denmark. One must always ask the permission of Hylde-Moer in order to cut down her tree and use her wood. If a wood chopper did not ask permission, the Elder Tree Mother herself would stalk those who took her wood and used it without her consent, giving them no rest. When Christianity was introduced into Europe, it was a common belief that the tree Judas hung himself from after betraying Jesus was an Elder. Some people even claimed that it was elder wood that built the cross that Jesus was crucified on. 

Elder trees are inherently linked to witches and witchcraft. There is a story told in Northamptonshire about a father who cut off a branch from an Elder for his son, only to watch in horror as the tree started to bleed. As they made their way home after the terrifying incident, they came across a woman in town who was said to be a witch… a fresh bandage wrapped around an injured arm. In Ireland and the British Isles, many claimed that witches would ride broomsticks and use wands made of elder wood. It was also a common belief that witches could transform into Elder Trees (like in the tale from Northamptonshire) and there were even stories in Denmark of Elders creeping around at night, peering into the windows of unsuspecting homes. However, because apparently fighting fire with fire does work, Elder is a common counter-charm to battle witchcraft. One sure-fire protection against witchcraft were elderberries picked on— you guessed it— St. John’s Eve (because this wouldn’t be a folklore article about plants if I didn’t mention St. John’s Eve at some point).

Parsley (and Celery?)

It may come as a surprise, but Parsley is a plant with a particularly Cursed history. From my understanding, Parsley and Celery, both in the family Apiaceae, have been confused for one another as far back as Ancient Greek writings have been studied by Classical scholars. I am not  a Classical scholar, however, and it seems like the Celery-Parsley debate was hotly contested well into the 20th century. As a result of this centuries-long dispute, I’ll be using both plants interchangeably. In Ancient Greece, both Parsley and Celery were associated with funerary rites and the dead. The origins of Parsley are attributed to the Greek Hero Archemorus, and it was said that Parsley sprung from wherever Archemorus’ blood seeped into the Earth. Victors of Greek Funerary games were given garlands of Parsley for this reason. Gravesites in Ancient Greece were adorned with Parsley, and Parsey was also associated with Persephone as well as Charon. Ancient Greek philosophers Chrysippus and Dionysus both thought it a grave offense to eat both Parsley and Celery, which should be reserved solely for funerary feasts. 

Somewhere down the line, Parsley became viewed as some kind of Spawn of Satan in England and subsequently, The US. It was said that “Parsley grows only for the wicked” and required three plantings— one for the gardener and two for the Devil. In parts of the Eastern US, Parsley was blown on to the seedbed from pages of the Bible. All of this is news to me; I’m a quarter Lebanese and let me tell you, tabouli enthusiasts everywhere (myself included) are probably confused, if not a little horrified. I did some research, and the Ancient Romans did not share the Greek’s grim view of Parsley. In fact, the Roman cookbook Apicius contains many recipes including parsley/celery. I have my own thoughts on this, and will elaborate in the next section. In the meantime.. be careful with planting and transporting Parsley, okay? 

Hemlock

Unlike our previous subject matter, Hemlock being on this list should come as no surprise to you. Interestingly enough —and this ties in with my theories about why Parsley became so Cursed— Hemlock is also in the family Apiaceae, much like Parsley. This family also includes popular favorites such as Celery (as I previously mentioned) Carrot, Parsnip, and a ton of other everyday vegetables and herbs. Hemlock has been referred to as “Poison Parsley '' and many other poisonous members of the Apiaceae family are similarly named, such as Fool’s Parsley (Aethusa cynapium) and Spotted Parsley (Cicuta maculatah). Hemlock is a highly poisonous plant, and every inch of it contains the toxic alkaloid coniine— which is fatal even in small doses. Hemlock is most known for being the poison Socrates was made to drink when sentenced to death for impiety and corrupting the youth of Ancient Greece. Again, I’m not a Classical scholar so I don’t know what became of Socrates after his forced suicide (and apparently google doesnt know either) but perhaps a garland of parsley was left on his tomb by one his many followers. This was a bit of a tangent, but I can’t help but feel the association that Parsley has with death and the devil are somehow related to its cousin, poison Hemlock. 

But, I digress, back to the folklore. In the northern parts of Europe, most notably England, Hemlock was an important asset in a witch’s pharmacopœia. The root of hemlock, which was “digged in the dark”, was a favorite among all of those who practiced witchcraft, along with nightshade and vervain. The plant and herb were powerful tools of the witch, and must be harvested properly, often in accordance to moon phases. Roots, like the hemlock root, were usually harvested in the dark of the moon, which sounds really cool and witchy, but there is a scientific reason for it. According to LocalUMass.com, “light, and heat from the sun and moon draw a plant’s nutrient-dense fluids (the source of their medicinal properties) upwards and into their stems, leaves, flowers, fruits and seeds. Therefore, when it is coldest and darkest, roots are most robust.” 

Listen, everything about hemlock is spooky in the best way possible. I will leave you with Hosea 10:4, which makes me think of a quote from Piers Haggard’s iconic 1971 folk horror film, Blood On Satan’s Claw. 

“They have spoken words, swearing falsely in making a covenant: thus judgment springeth up as hemlock in the furrows of the field.”

Willows 

I began this post with a quote from The Willows, and so we have finally made it to the titular Cursed Tree of Blackwood’s masterpiece of Weird Literature. Artists, like Algernon Blackwood, have been writing, painting, and singing about the Willow Tree for as long as mankind has been capable of expressing themselves through art. Throughout this long and storied history, the Willow has been associated with grief, death, wisdom, and longing, as well as being described as a bridge between our world and something else entirely. In Greek mythology, Orpheus carried a willow on his person during his visits to the underworld. Hecate, Greek Goddess of witchcraft ( as well as crossroads, the moon and many other things) is associated with the willow. Like Hecate, the willow tree is analogous with the moon, and is placed under the sign of the moon by astrologers. The Weeping Willow, in particular, has a strong association with death and the other side. In China, where they originate, Weeping Willows are used to mark gravesites. 

In her book, Discovering The Folklore of Plants, Margaret Baker comments that individuals traveling through Exmoor have been stalked by willow trees moving on their own accord after nightfall; dark whispers trailing behind travelers on long stretches of solitary road. I can’t help but wonder, were these stories that inspired Blackwood? It brings me back to the Elder Trees in Denmark, peering into dim windows long after the sun has set.

I want to end on one more literary passage concerning the subject of Willow Trees, because as I mentioned previously, Willows have been capturing the imaginations of artists for centuries. From Christina Rosetti’s poem The Willow Shade: 

Slow wind sighed through the willow leaves,

The ripple made a moan,

The world drooped murmuring like a thing that grieves;

And then I felt alone.

I rose to go, and felt the chill,

And shivered as I went;

Yet shivering wondered, and I wonder still,

What more that willow meant

~

If I’m being honest, I feel like I’ve only really scratched the surface of the wide-ranging, fascinating subject that is Cursed Plants and Witch Trees. But I hope, however, that you have found this interesting, or even a place to start your own research (which I highly recommend you do!) Of course, I will include my sources which can also act as a guide for further reading! (Friends, it has been a hot minute since I’ve written in any kind of MLA format so please let me know if something is incorrect!) 

If you take one thing away from this, remember: always ask The Elder Mother before you chop her tree down, and for god’s sake, please make sure you’re consuming parsley and not hemlock! 

Bibliography and Further Reading 

“As Above, so Below: Digging Roots and Scattering Seeds under the Scorpio Moon.” SUSTAINABILITY, www.localumass.com/blog/as-above-so-below-digging-roots-and-scattering-seeds-under-the-scorpio-moon. Accessed 6 June 2022.

Andrews, Alfred C. “Celery and Parsley as Foods in the Greco-Roman Period.” Classical Philology, vol. 44, no. 2, Apr. 1949, pp. 91–99, 10.1086/363177. Accessed 3 Jun. 2022.

Baker, Margaret L. Discovering the Folklore of Plants. Oxford, Shire, 2008.

Folkard, Richard. Plant Lore, Legends, and Lyrics, Embracing the Myths, Traditions, Superstitions, and Folk-Lore of the Plant Kingdom, by Richard Folkard ... London, S. Low, 1884.

M Grieve. A Modern Herbal : The Medicinal, Culinary, Cosmetic and Economic Properties, Cultivation and Folklore of Herbs, Grasses, Fungi, Shrubs and Trees with All Their Modern Scientific Uses. London England, Tiger Books International, 1998.

Mockler, W. E. “Moon Lore from West Virginia.” Folklore, vol. 50, no. 3, Sept. 1939, pp. 310–314, 10.1080/0015587x.1939.9718183. Accessed 12 Dec. 2021.

“Scholar Tree & Willow Tree | Dartmouth Folklore Archive.” Journeys.dartmouth.edu, journeys.dartmouth.edu/folklorearchive/2018/11/11/scholar-tree-willow-tree/. Accessed 6 June 2022.

“Willow Tree Mythology and Folklore.” Trees for Life, treesforlife.org.uk/into-the-forest/trees-plants-animals/trees/willow/willow-mythology-and-folklore/.

[apelcini]

if u dont mind the question, what are yr woes with paganism? im like legitimately curious bc ive heard people profess their dislike for pagans but never really looked into why because i feel like if i google it im going to find some bad takes

there’s not much that comes up even if you do google it, bc neopaganism is as the name implies new and is also super decentralized, so most of the paganism you run into will be on the internet and undocumented. that said i’m not here to talk about the roots of neopaganism bc while you aren’t doing this i am actually worried that people are gonna start taking me as a religious authority when i am literally just a tumblr user. i have four major gripes.

1) they think they know everything and they’re rude as shit about it. this is the one that impacts me the most as a jew who talks about jewish things on the internet. 90% of the pagans i’ve met are white goyim who were raised either christian or atheists who then became pagans and think that experiencing the most globally influential religion that encourages total domination of other religions and then moving to a largely white goyishe religion with basically no roots heritage or unifying culture makes them an expert on religion, and they then proceed to talk back to people from ACTUALLY marginalized religions, and are especially rude to people from organized religions (which are not actually inherently evil). i grew up learning about christian hegemony and how it affects us and i guarantee you do not know more than me about whether my own religion is bigoted just because dionimus or whoever came to you in a dream. that said if i ever meet a jewish pagan it’s on sight but that’s for another time

2) they’re larping as oppressed. have you heard the saying “we are the daughters of the witches you couldn’t burn”? yeah. pagans wanna be oppressed so bad, because they think oppression is cool and fun and adds flavor to your religion. this is incredibly insulting to people who are actually oppressed by white supremacy and especially to people who have suffered irretrievable losses to their cultures in the name of christianity. no hailey you would not have been burned at the stake for witchcraft you would have been the ones burning MY ancestors. this is maybe the most infuriating things about them and i’m gonna link the gruntilda manifesto because while they’re infuriating it’s hilarious. they wanna be us so bad it makes them look stupid

3) they think literally anything belongs to them. this impacts jews as well (appropriation of kabbalah and jewish mysticism as well as our religious symbols and even our fucking alphabet being fetishized as exotic) but is especially harmful to indigenous people, whose religions and cultures are in tatters from colonization and are already taken as an open buffet to butcher by both pagans and secular people. i’m pretty sure wicca was literally founded for this reason but don’t quote me on this. they literally do not know the meaning of closed practice and they see no difference from taking from religions like norse paganism which is abandoned bc the practioners and their descendants are now christian vs religions that are clinging by a thread bc christianity slaughtered them in droves and forcefully converted them and the descendants of these people still suffer from it.

4) they think they’re so special. so many of them think they have a unique relationship with spirituality because they see the rest of us as either superstitious hokey-pokey or knockoff christians who just follow orders blindly and hate gay people because their priest said so instead of like. people with deep and meaningful and complex relationships to our religions and the way these impact our relationship with the world. this one’s another symptom of them not knowing shit about any of us.

so tl;dr a mixture of them being another manifestation of structural oppression under christianity and also just being annoying as shit. i have more casual ways that i usually phrase this but they don’t really work as an explanation to people who don’t know

[buckyreaderrecs]

Gloxinia

Summary: You’re a witch that helps The Avengers a couple of times. Bucky Barnes finds some sort of happiness and healing in you, and the flowers you surround yourself with. He’s a boy in lalalove. 

 Words: 5,808 Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Tony Stark, James 'Rhodey' Rhodes, Clint Barton, Thor Odinson Additional tags: mostly canon compliant (Infinity War and Endgame never happened), witch!Reader, enhanced!Reader, she/her pronouns for Reader, other characters mentioned but not in scenes, recovering!Bucky, witchy vibes, evil werewolf clones, sassy Sam Wilson, LOTS of flower symbolism, Avengers compound, fluff Warnings: reference to having nightmares but nothing serious My masterlist.

Note: This was written for @the--sad--hatter and her Flowers For My Followers writing challenge. Kara, I love you, and I hope you love this. Also shout out to @vibraniumwitch for being my witchy inspiration always. Also, sorry for probably wrong geography stuff; I'm Australian and don't know shit about New York/Upstate New York loooool.

 Gloxinia

For any of The Avengers to be sceptical of witchcraft seemed, to be perfectly frank, really fucking stupid. Each of their lives had been wrapped up in magic and mystery, so to have them hold back smirks and send mocking glances across the table at each other was not exactly what you had expected.

To be fair, it wasn't all The Avengers making fun. At the head of the table, Steve Rogers watched with curiosity, although he was sure his expression read as neutral. Sam Wilson took the seat closest to you, asking the same question phrased multiple ways.

"So, a witch witch?" "Is it more Sabrina or Charmed?" "Really just making a potion, huh? Like a real life witch…"

He broke the tension, which would have been otherwise unbearable.

Tony Stark, Clint Wilson, and James 'Rhodey' Rhodes had been reduced to acting like teenagers at the mere suggestion of brewing a potion. You'd been hoping for a different audience. Specifically, Wanda Maximoff. She would have believed you. Alas, you had not been gifted your choice in company.

"Alright, Broom-hilda, show us what 'cha got," Tony said, growing impatient.

"Do we really have to drink that?" Clint added, peering into the bowl you'd been mixing things in. "Won't turn our skin purple? Grow an extra limb?"

Rolling your eyes, you held up a plant. "Magnolia, for perseverance. Or, add the petals to a salad for a bit of extra colour," you explained in your best infomercial voice.

Sam snorted, then began to poke around the rest of the ingredients. "What’re the orange ones for?"

"That's nasturtium. For conquest."

When you'd finished the mix, you let it cook over a small, portable heat pad. Modern witch, and all that. Hot off the stove, you poured the liquid into a collection of small, glass bottles.

"Let it cool, cork them, then drink it when you need it," you announced, matter-of-factly.

When Natasha Romanoff had exhausted all of her routes of gathering information, returning with only your name, everyone was close to admitting defeat. The battle was lost, surely, if a witch's potion was the only hope… But Steve wasn't in the business of giving up. He sent Sam to bring you to the compound.

Steve explained that they had located a source of power. Ancient, unstable, highly sought-after power. And even with all their superhuman strength and superhuman speed and superhuman everything, they couldn't get to it. Maybe, though, with what was best described as a performance-enhancing-witchy-substance, they had a fighting chance.

The room looked over the bottles.

"How do we know if it'll work?" Sam asked, picking one up and inspecting it.

"We don't," Tony answered. It was less an attack than a statement of unfortunate fact.

"You'll just have to trust me."

Sam nodded, and watched as you pulled a sprig of yarrow and put it into his bottle.

"Yarrow, for healing," you told him.

"Yeah, ah… Can I grab some of that too?" Rhodey asked. "Falc ain't the only brother without super healing."

 …

"No," 

"But-"

"No. I'm not gonna be a magical drug dealer to-" but Sam cut you off before you could finish your sentence.

"Y/N, Y/N, you got it all wrong! I don't want that nasty nasturtium stuff. Nah, I'm thinking… truth serum?"

"Truth serum," you repeated deadpan.

"Yeah, nightshade," he says nodded and wriggling his eyebrows. He was doing his best 'good kid does extra credit' impression.

"You googling 'truth plant' isn't impressive," you said. That elicited a snort from Sam's companion.

Standing next to him, silent and appearing impatient, Bucky Barnes crossed his arms over his chest. But the snort had dragged him into the conversation.

"And what do you want?" you asked him.

"What?"

"Love spell. Vampire tracker. Or just an easy bottle of truth serum too?"

Bucky blinked at you, then slowly shook his head. "I've had enough serums to last me a lifetime… I'm just here 'cause Steve said you'd kick his ass before you gave him any…magic or whatever," he answered, motioning to Sam.

"So Rogers got all the trio's brains, huh?"

Sam and Bucky frowned in unison.

"Look, we normally just use Nat for this kind of thing. But our guy ain't talking, and we need the information," Sam tried again. "She's out of town, and Wanda's taking a break from getting in people's heads."

Being called in to brew superhero steroids as a once off was one thing… Having the Falcon and the Winter Soldier show up on your doorstep at 11:00 pm was another. However, the men looked desperate.

Sighing, you looked at them. "Fine. Come in. I might be able to help." 

You lead the men through your living room, overlooked by a small kitchen. Their faces told you a lot. "You were expecting a magic cave? Portal to a hut in the middle of a forest?"

"Yeah, kinda," Sam replied, casually shrugging.

"Do you live in a nest?" you asked him.

Bucky chuckled.

"Alright, I get it. The witch thing isn't always literal."

But that's when you pulled a dark purple velvet curtain back, revealing a room you referred to as your office.

"Woah," Bucky whispered to himself.

"Now, see, this is what I'm talking 'bout!" Sam exclaimed, looking around the room in awe.

The small, windowless room was framed by floor to ceiling bookshelves on three of the walls. Stuck between books were trinkets and oddities. Against the fourth wall was a table covered in dried herbs, potted plants, and other things neither Sam nor Bucky could identify.

"Sit," you instructed, pointing to the round table in the centre of the room. There were scorch marks and deep gashed in the wood grain. Bucky traced them with his right hand.

As they pulled out chairs and sat, Sam pointed, "Is that a microwave?"

"For heating potions… and hot pockets," you explained. "So, how much can you tell me?"

"Officially - nothing. Unofficially - your magic juice helped save the world a month ago, so, whatever you need to know," Sam answered.

"Okay. And, none of those C.I.A. psychotropic L.S.D. drugs are real? No secret truth serums invented by Bruce Banner?" you asked, more out of interest than need-to-know.

"If they do, they ain't telling us," Sam said. 

He explained that they had a man in custody. The man knew a date and a location, but he wasn’t cracking in interrogation and time was running out.

"Sounds very spy T.V. dramatic," you mused.

"But it's real life," Bucky said.

"Yeah," you replied, looking at him and his serious expression. "Okay, so what's meant to happen? On the date or whatever?"

"You'll sleep better not knowing that," from Bucky, his expression remaining the same.

You trusted him to gauge what you should and should not know. Nodding, you turned around and began to look for the things you needed. The men watched, leaning over the table when you put things on it.

"I don't do magic on other people. It's a line we don't cross. So, no truth serum. What I can do is try to pull the information you need from somewhere else. Bring it here," you told him.

When you joined them at the table you smiled at their matching faces; furrowed brows and darkened eyes.

"You're sure he knows what you need to know?" you asked. They nodded. "Do you have anything of his?" Sam frowned, shook his head.

Bucky thought for a second, then pulled a knife out of somewhere. "Haven't cleaned this yet. Might still have some of his blood on it,"

"Disturbing, but okay," you said, taking the knife and putting it in the wooden bowl in front of you.

The room went silent as you picked white chrysanthemum petals off a fresh stem and dropped them into the bowl. Begonias followed, then basil. Truth. Knowledge. Success.

"One of you has to be the vessel,"

"The vessel?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. The information needs to go to someone. It can't be me,"

"I'll do it," Bucky offered.

For a second you hesitated, wondering how white magic would work through someone with so much darkness in their past. But that was just it - it was the past.

"You need to wear this," you said, handing him a crown made of blackthorn plant. "It's like, a filter. Brings in good luck, and lets the universe know you're working for good."

Bucky looked at the thing in his hands, slowly putting it on his head.

"Suits you, man," Sam said, smirking. Bucky just shot him a look.

They fell silent again, watching you carefully place a few more things in the bowl before filling it with a liquid poured from a glass jar that looked like it once held pasta sauce. Everything sat swimming but still until you placed a hand either side of the bowl, then it started to simmer. It bubbled and popped and seemed to quickly reduce down, evaporating faster than it scientifically should have. Soon, all that was left was about shot glass worth of black, thick syrupy liquid.

"Where's my knife?" Bucky asked.

"Gone," you replied as you poured the potion into a cup. You handed it to Bucky and he looked at you apprehensively. "Drink it and focus on what you want to know… Think about the guy. And, think about what happens if you don't find out what he knows. Think about it so hard that it hurts."

Bucky nodded slowly but shot the liquid quickly. At first, he just sat there, almost like he was stunned.

"How long-" Sam went to ask, but you shushed him.

Suddenly, Bucky pushed back from the table, standing up and sending his chair flying. Sam followed, holding his arms out like he expected Bucky to fall.

"It's okay," you told Sam. "He's okay."

Bucky's eyes were shut tight, and he held his head, fingers curling around his blackthorn crown. He began to breathe heavily, mouth open.

"Is he gonna spew?!" Sam shrieked in a high-pitched voice.

Taking the empty wooden bowl with you, you stood and moved to Bucky. He went still and mimicked your exact movements of slowly lowering yourself to the ground and kneeling. Sam didn't understand how Bucky knew what to do; you'd not uttered a command.

You placed the bowl between you and Bucky. He leaned over it, and began to cough and pull something from his mouth. It was impossibly long, coming from somewhere deep inside him. He pulled and pulled, letting it slop into the bowl. When it was all out, he spat, then seemingly woke up, falling on his butt and backing away from the bowl.

"What the fuck," he said between heavy breaths.

Sam and Bucky watched you look through the muck and gunk in the bowl, no hesitation to your movement.

"What is that?" Sam asked, truly disgusted. 

You looked over to Bucky, who was looking at the thing intently. He scrambled back over and took it from you. "I know…" he started, looking up at Sam. "I know… everything.”

 …

 You had dropped cutlery three times, but when it was almost midnight and no company had come, you were getting restless. In your office, sat at the table, you shuffled a deck and laid out cards.

The Hanged Man. The Hermit. The Hierophant, reversed. The Lovers.

Then, 11.11 and a soft knock on the door.

Bucky Barnes looked sleep deprived but somehow hopeful.

"I thought I might see you tonight," you told him, opening the door and letting him through. "Were you right? About the date and place?"

"Yes," he said, coming to stand in your living room.

"Good. What do Earth's Mightiest Heroes need now then?"

Bucky looked around. "Do you have any pets?" he asked.

"No. Do you?"

"A cat. Alpine... Thought you'd have one… black cat or something." He wasn't teasing, like Sam had.

"Black cat? Thought you guys were the ones with a black cat?"

Bucky grinned. "Funny. You're funny,"

"Thanks… You're not here for them then,"

"No," he said, walking over to the window where plants were everywhere. "Do you use all of these? For your magic?"

"Most of them, yeah. Like, these ones…" You moved to stand next to him. "They give strength,"

"Snapdragons," Bucky identified.

"Yep. And… Vervain are protective in nature, especially from enchantment." You picked a sprig of the purple plant, threaded it through Bucky's hair, behind his ear.

"What about nightmares? What helps with those?" he asked earnestly.

The room was illuminated by candlelight. A soft orangy glow lit up half his fast, casting the other half into shadow. You turned to him and cupped his face in your hands.

"A tired soldier… Sing him to sleep… A tired soldier… The devil's to keep," you sung gently, running your thumbs along his cheeks. "Sit. I'll brew you tea,"

"Tea?" Bucky asked, a little hesitant to be out of your hands.

"Magic tea," you clarified, rolling your eyes.

Elderflower for compassion and sweet-brier petals for healing. A little poppy and chamomile, and other secrets kept in your family for generations. A dash of Indian jasmine to finish. It glimmered as you swirled it in the teacup.

Bucky was on the couch, sitting up too straight.

"Take your boots off. Lay down," you instructed. He went to protest, probably say you didn't need to put that much effort in. "Please," you said, stopping the protest. "Let me do this."

Bucky followed your commands and took the teacup when offered. He skulled it like a frat boy in a bar trying to impress his mates.

"Now close your eyes. Sleep," you said, taking the empty cup from him.

Kneeling next to the couch, you softly ran your fingers through Bucky's hair and waited until he fell asleep before you moved to your own bed.

He was gone when you woke up.

 …

 "What? No broomstick?" called the unmistakable voice of Sam Wilson.

Standing at the open boot of your car, you looked up and watched him approach, Bucky trailing behind, hands shoved in his pockets.

"You stalking me now?" you asked, clocking the bunch of flowers in Sam's hands.

"Nope. Just waiting for you. Weren't home and we wanted to drop off a thank you, for the helping last week," he said, holding out the bouquet to you.

"So, the information was good?" you asked, pretending Bucky hadn't already confirmed it to you. His late night visit to you a few nights before was obviously not something he'd shared with his friends.

"It was good. You do good work,"

"Thanks," you said dubiously, but taking the flowers.

"We picked those out especially. This one is a gerball-"

"Gerbera," Bucky correct.

"Means 'you are the sunshine of my life' and this one is an orchid, for beauty," Sam rattled off.

"What about this one?" you asked, pointing to the yellow agrimony.

"Buck picked that one. What's it mean?" Sam asked, looking over to Bucky. Bucky was leaning against your car casually. He shrugged, pretended to not know agrimony was the gratitude plant.

"They're beautiful. You didn't have to," you told them, putting the flowers in one of the boxes in the boot of your car.

"You need a hand?" Sam asked, not waiting for a response. He swooped in and collected one of the heavy boxes. Bucky followed, picking up the other.

"Ah… sure…"

You let them carry your things inside, put them on the kitchen bench.

"More witch stuff? Eye of newt? That kind of thing?" Sam asked.

"If microwave popcorn and frozen lasagna is witchy, then ya got me," you laughed. "You're gonna be disappointed if you keep thinking like that, Sam,"

"You say that but I've seen behind the curtain. You're definitely witchy enough,"

"Yeah, yeah… So what do you want? You didn't just come to give me flowers," you asked, launching yourself backwards and up to sit on the bench.

You glanced over at Bucky, who was back over at the window and the plants. Sam clocked you looking, but filed that away.

"We've got an offer for you,"

"When you say 'we,' who exactly do you mean?"

"Us! The Avengers! Superheros!" Sam said, chest puffed out.

Rolling your eyes, you shook your head. "Nope,"

"You haven't even heard-"

"No. I'm happy doing what I do," you told him.

"I told you," Bucky chimed in, stopping at a gloxinia, something about its prettiness resonating with him. "What's this one mean?"

"Love at first sight," you said, biting your lip to hide a smile.

"Whatever you do doesn't come with the perks we have," Sam persisted.

"Also doesn't come with anonymity I kinda like,"

"Alright. I tried. Can't promise we won't be back for more help though. Like I said, you do good work... So, this lasagna. Fresh?"

…

 "Well, if it isn't Broom-hilda," Tony said, arms open.

"I hope you're not expecting a hug," you replied, holding your own arms around yourself. Bucky snorted from next to you.

"Brumhilda?! A name derived from Brunnhilde, no doubt. I have a friend named-"

"Yeah, now's not the time for Asgardian tales," Tony interrupted a seemingly very excited Thor.

"Her name's Y/N," Bucky said to Thor.

Thor looked back and forth between Tony and you. "He thinks it's funny," you explained.

"It is. And I am," Tony argued.

You sighed, sat down in one of the conference room's chairs and began to slowly spin on it. "So, what am I doing here?"

When Sam and Bucky knocked on your door before the sun had a chance to rise and shine that morning, you knew it was going to be hard to say no to them. They both looked upset, and Sam was even free from his usual quips. As soon as you saw their faces, you began to nod. "Let me get dressed. I'll come," you whispered, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

Bucky pulled up a seat next to you, the rest of the room taking the cue and finding their spots around the large table. You recognised everyone, having met most of them. Clint and Rhodey nodded politely in your direction.

"Y/N," Steve greeted, sitting next to Bucky. "Good to see you. Heard these punks have been harassing ya?"

"Nothing she can't handle," Sam cut in, sitting on your other side.

"Truly sorry for them," Steve said, grinning.

You shrugged, looking at Bucky. "They're alright."

Tony cleared his throat. "Whole team isn't here yet, but they're coming… We're going to need all the help we can get."

 ...

 "There's too many of them!” 

"At least they're not evil flying robots!"

"Hey! I said I was sorry!"

"Cap, we've got to try somethin' else. Bullets ain't doin' shit."

"Wanda? Can you-"

"On it."

"Do you need me to go big? 'Cause I'll go big."

"Yes! Mr. Stark, can he go big?!"

From your hidden vantage point higher up the mountain, you watched the battle play out in front of you. Through the earpiece you listened to The Avengers et. al. try to work out what to do. It was true - they were severely outnumbered. The situation was going from bad to worse.

"Jesus!" you yelped as someone almost body-slammed themselves next to you.

"Sorry. Checkin' you're still here,"

"Where else would I be?"

Bucky shrugged, reloaded.

"What are they, Buck? I know a lot about a lot, but I've never seen anything like them."

You took another look through the M22 field binoculars you'd been issued. The monsters didn't look entirely… natural. Maybe, like many creatures of the world, they were made in a lab. They were men pulled apart, stitched back together with pieces of dog and wolf. Their claws ripped through protective gear and flesh like it was nothing, and they could communicate by wordless sound. It was almost howling, but more guttural and less fluid.

"They all look the same," you said.

Bucky nodded. "Yeah, noticed that too. Exactly the same,"

"Exactly? Up close? Even the human parts?"

He stopped what he was doing and looked at you. "Yep. Clones. What're you thinkin'?"

"Clones..? Um, I don't know… I just… If I can figure out what they are then I can figure out how to help."

Sam dropped down on the other side of you, his wings damaged. He ripped the pack off his back and began to try to repair them. "If I knew we were gonna be out here fightin' fucking werewolves I would've packed the silverware instead of the vibranium."

"Werewolves?" you asked, pulling a small silk pouch from your bag. "Here. Use this to stick them back together,"

"Stick it back together? Y/N. Can't just glue an EXO back together-"

"It's not glue, Sam. It's bumblebee orchid, oak leaf, protea, and a bunch of other things you don't wanna know about," you explained.

"You really questioning her magic? Use her glue,” Bucky ordered. 

Sam huffed but complied. And abracadabra, your witchy sticky goop held his wings together stronger than they were before.

Bucky and Sam stood up, reloaded and ready to rejoin the fight.

"Wait!" you called, suddenly having a thought. "What if they really are werewolves?"

"What?" Sam said.

"Weirder things have happened, right? Werewolves are real. So maybe…" Your voice trailed off as you tipped the entire contents of your bag onto the forest floor.

"Y/N, we don't have time-"

"Gimme a second. I know I have it here,"

"Have what?" Bucky asked, kneeling down and studying the contents of your bag too.

"Aconitum extract… in a bottle… Here!"

"Aconitum?" Sam asked confused and growing impatient.

"Monkshood. Um, wolfsbane. Bucky, are we too far up for you to get one?"

Bucky took your M22s and assessed. "No. Nah, I can get one,"

"Gimme a bullet."

Sam and Bucky watched you dip the bullet in aconitum while uttering any and every luck enchantment you could think of. Bucky loaded his M249 SAW, steadied himself and fired.

The monster went down.

All three of you held your breath and waited. Through the M22s you watched Steve approach the body, check it.

"It's… dead…" came through the comms.

 …

 It had been two weeks since the army of hybrid werewolf clones, so two weeks since you'd last seen Bucky. It had taken days to kill them all. You had to be flown out to find more aconitum extract. From the lab at the compound you were able to work with Bruce Banner to find better ways of delivering the wolfsbane to the clones. Once you had it, it was all over for those motherfuckers.

When everyone else arrived back at the compound, they were exhausted, covered in the thick ash generated by the massive fires it took to burn all the bodies. Bucky was so tired he could hardly keep his eyes open, but he mustered the energy to offer to drive you back home to New York City himself. You just sent him off to shower and bed, taking Tony's offer of a ride with one of his minions.

It had been two weeks, then a dream, a vivid and hazy dream. A white cat brought you orange blossoms, carrying a branch in his mouth. "Do you want me to plant this?" you asked the cat, and you knew he would say yes if it could speak. He watched you tend to the blossom, then he disappeared through an open window. You could feel the cool breeze against your skin, felt your hair move.

When you woke, it didn't surprise you to find Bucky sitting next to your bed, back to it and legs stretched out in front of him. The window was open, letting in an unseasonably warm morning zephyr.

"I just had a dream about you," you whispered, ruffling his hair.

Bucky looked up at you. He seemed sad. "Good dream or bad dream?"

"Good. Always good."

He nodded, trying for a small smile. "The fern… It meant I could come in, right?"

"Glad you got the message," you answered. Out on the sills of all your windows, you left ferns. They meant a lot of things - fascination, magic, enchantment, sincerity, and shelter - and you'd told Bucky they were his plant, back when he and Sam came to offer you a job with The Avengers. At the entry points to your home, they were an open invitation for him, a coded welcome mat.

"Didn't want to wake you," Bucky said.

"I'm awake now. What do you need?"

He thought for a moment. He needed a lot of things, many of which you could definitely provide. "Tea? Thought maybe you could mix some for me to take home. Maybe give to the others,"

"I can do one better than that. I can make everyone their own blend. It will be fun. Come on. I'll teach you how," you said, pulling the blankets away and getting out of bed.

Bucky stood, looking a little alarmed. "You don't have to-"

"I know, Buck. But I want to. Come on."

It took all day, but eventually you had packaged up individual tea blends for everyone. Bucky got a stash of his special sleepy tea, and he already looked more rested with it in his possession. You walked him to the door sometime just before 5:00 pm.

"Thank you," he said, quiet and reflective.

"Easy. You're always welcome here. Sam - not so much. But you - always," you told him, leaning against the frame of your front door.

"Might take you up on that,"

"Please do," you said nodding.

Bucky smiled, went to leave, but turned back like he was going to say something. You stood straight, patient. His brain was ticking, thinking something over. Deciding. Then, he moved. Quickly, he stepped back and pressed a fast but soft kiss to your lips. He was gone, literally nowhere to be seen, before you had time to say or do anything.

 …

 The Hudson River sparkled under the sunset. Bucky watched the colours reflect the scene, like one of Steve's paintings. He was lost in a daydream when Sam nudged him.

"Where you at, man?" he asked.

Bucky looked over at Sam and Steve, who were both eyeing him off suspiciously. They'd carried a couple of couches to the roof. Stolen Clint's beer and set up shop for the night. Pizza was on its way.

"What?" Bucky asked.

"You were thinking about her again, huh?" Steve guessed.

Bucky looked back at the river, ignored his friends. They laughed, returned to their conversation.

Later, when Sam had retired to his room, not able to superhuman heat himself, Steve moved over to lounge next to Bucky. He rested his head on Bucky's shoulder and closed his eyes.

"You really like her, don't you?"

"I think I love her," Bucky replied.

Steve laughed at the speed of the response. "I think you might too. All those girls before, and you never really loved any of them... Guess you stuck around to meet her,"

"Seems that way,"

"You gonna do anything about it?" Steve asked.

"Yeah… It's gotta be good though," Bucky said, only then realising the depth of his feelings.

"Wouldn't wait too long, pal."

 ….

 Bucky took you up on your invitation, coming and going from your place frequently. Sometimes, you'd find fresh croissants left on your kitchen bench. Sometimes, you'd find him asleep on your couch. 

How much he needed from you varied, but how much he was willing to give seemed infinite. You had to proactively stop him from becoming some sort of amazing housekeeper slash meal provider.

After about a month, he settled enough to be able to just exist around you. He'd help you pick the right leaves for the teas you made people. He'd disappear into your bedroom when you had clients over, reading their cards while Bucky listened in like it was a television series. It was easy being around him, and you were ready to be patient for a lot longer, but fuck were you itching for more.

The kissing was sweet, but very often brief. Bucky caught your lips in the moments between your magic and his profound awe. You did what you could to encourage him, but knew the ball was well and truly in his court. So, when he ushered you outside one sunny morning, you didn't really have much expectation.

"I thought you'd never ask," you said, face lighting up when you saw Bucky's bike out the front of your place. New York City was buzzing around you, but as soon as you watched him get on and hand you a helmet, you'd never craved the open road more.

All the other times you'd been to The Avengers compound, you'd traveled by air. It was quick. The ride took longer but it was so much better. Having your arms wrapped around Bucky, the feeling of the bike rumbling under you, it was something new, which was all sorts of remarkable. Being magic sapped a lot of the wonder from the world, ironically. Bucky was bringing it back.

At the compound, Bucky took your hand and lead you around the side, not going in. "I've, ah, got something for you," he said.

"You sound nervous,"

"Yeah. If you could just cast up a little spell to get rid of that, it would be great," he said deadpan.

You laughed while looking around for clues to Bucky's surprise for you.

Rounding a corner, it came into view. A garden. A proper garden, complete with white picket fencing surrounding it. It was like something out of Practical Magic, and all your childhood dreams.

"What is this?"

"It's for you. A place you can grow whatever you need. Or want," Bucky said.

In a state of genuine shock, you let go of Bucky's hand and covered your mouth with yours. You had never seen anything more spectacular.

At the single entrance to the garden was an arch. Ivy and honeysuckle covered it completely, like they'd had a lot of time to grow. You pulled a flower from the arch, reaching up to find a full bloom. "Honeysuckle petals are edible," you said, reaching out to Bucky. He let you feed him the flower. "Sweet, like the perfume. They symbolism devotion, or being 'united in love.' Kinda like the ivy on it. Ivy symbolises attraction."

Bucky smiled wide, his eyes sparkling as he watched you walk further in. "We tried to make sections, you know, for the different plants. Like, this part here has sandy soil for the desert plants," he explained.

"We?"

"Got a lot of help from the others,"

"I'll have to thank them," you said.

There were veggie patches and small fruit trees. Almost half the garden was designated to all the types of plants Bucky had seen you use in potions and teas. Dog rose, blackthorn, rosemary, euphorbia, snowdrop flowers, bells of Ireland, and welcoming wisteria. The raised beds were overflowing with plants, just about ready to bloom in an explosion of colour.

"This… This is incredible,"

"Figured your apartment doesn't really have the space. And you're welcome here anytime,"

"I’ll wanna be here all the time." The garden was what your magical ancestors could have only dreamed of. "I don’t even know what to look at first,"

"Well, maybe that," Bucky said, pointing to a birdbath, where butterflies were hovering over the water. The best part though, was a small sign sticking out the ground next to it that read For Sam.

You laughed. "Oh my god,"

"He was so grumpy about it,"

"Shouldn't have named himself after a bird then," you reasoned.

Bucky nodded, grinning. "And we put that bench opposite so you could sit and watch them."

Your eyes were beginning to tear up, overwhelmed with the sheer amount of love and effort surrounding you. "Buck… I just can't…"

"Oh! And, one more thing. This was Wanda's idea. Come on."

Bucky took your hand and lead you through the garden to the back to where a weeping mulberry tree stood in the corner. He pushed through the soft branches, revealing the manicured underside. A green, little cave under the canopy held secret another wooden bench. Bucky sat down, otherwise he'd have to bend. It was the perfect height for you though, but you sat next to him anyway.

From under the mulberry tree you could see the rest of the garden. All the plants swayed in the warm breeze, and the flowers popped bright and happy.

"How long have you been working on this? Some of those are grown well in,"

"You don't need to know any of that. Takes away the magic, don't it?"

"You mean, a magician doesn't reveal his secrets and all that?" you asked.

Bucky shrugged and nodded, leaning back into the bench a little more and putting an arm around you. Snuggling into his side, you breathed out and just soaked it all in. Your mind was caught between racing with ideas of all the things you could do with the garden and plants, and totally turning to blissful mush.

"I know ya never wanted to work with us, but I'm glad Nat found you. Glad I met you," Bucky said, his voice back to being a little bit shaky, nervous. "You've made my life better, you know? Not just with the, the nightmares, but just… everything. You make everything better…"

You knew he wasn't finished, so you stayed quiet while he gathered his thoughts. In the meantime, you threaded your fingers through his, rubbed your thumb along the back of his hand.

"I used to be so good at this," he said, huffing a little.

It made you giggle. "Used to be good at what?" you asked knowingly, sitting up and looking at him.

He rolled his eyes. "Y/N! I'm tryna' tell you I'm sweet on you and you're gonna give me shit,"

"Yeah, I am. I'm also gonna give you shit about the phrase 'sweet on you' too," you replied, laughing.

Bucky smiled, watching you laugh, just happy you were happy. When you stopped, he sat up and used both hands to fold the hair behind your ears. Holding your face in his hands, he tried to not grin like an idiot. He couldn’t hide the smirk.

"I love you. I'm in love with you," he said, voice finally dead certain.

"Yeah, the garden was a bit of a giveaway," you replied, quickly adding, "And that's good. 'Cause I'm in love with you too. Very completely."

Bucky made the kind of expression you'd pull at a basket of mewing kittens, or a puppy tumbling across fresh cut lawn. It was very, very kissable. So, you did want any self-respecting witch would do. You kissed Bucky Barnes like your life depended on it in the secret mulberry tree cave he had made just for you.

 ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ 

My taglist (open): @bubbabarnes @browngirlmagic @lookalivefrosty @aynaraxas @vibraniumwitch @the--sad--hatter​ @fairislesheets​ @vibraniumdaisies​ @cristie24​ 

[cosplayinamerica]

Scathach from Fate/Grand Order : xrenascent  //  photo: asiantango

I remember being in high school and seeing all of these photos of cosplayers online. I had always thought, "Wow, they really look like the character they're cosplaying as and they're having so much fun too!" I didn't actually get to try cosplaying until after graduating from college since I didn't have the money or time. My friends urging me to try it with them were one of the major reasons why I wanted to give it a shot. Ever since my first con and cosplay back in 2014, I've been hooked to this hobby and have been super thankful for it.3

 In 2014, I was in a pretty dark place because of some personal events I had gone through. Years prior, I had heard of cosplaying and what it was, but didn't really look into it until my friends invited me to go to my first con with them in the area, and convinced me to try cosplaying. I thought I'd give it a shot, plus it would help keep me busy. I bought my first cosplay, Asami Sato from The Legend of Korra, off of eBay. I was incredibly excited to get it in the mail and to try it on.

I felt like I related to Asami's personality a lot, and when I finally had the chance to put the cosplay on, something just clicked for me. It was like witchcraft, because I felt this overwhelmingly positive sensation wearing a cosplay for the first time. And as soon as the day of the con came around the corner, I put my cosplay on again, and the positive vibes came back just as strong as ever. I had never felt my confidence skyrocket like this before and I was having such a fun time. I felt good about myself for once.

Photo: Nhi Ngo

It's been 6 years since I first started cosplaying. I'm in such a better place now and I'm thankful for all of the friends I've made and people I've met through cosplaying. I've also learned so much from cosplaying--how to sew, style wigs, use different materials and techniques to make certain accessories/garments/props look nice...I've even learned so much about myself as a person. I'm thankful to my friends who urged me to go to the con with them, and encouraged me to try cosplaying.

When I first got into Granblue Fantasy in 2018, I had my eyes on cosplaying Vira Lilie. Someone online saw that I was interested in GBF and graciously invited me to a GBF-focused cosplaying server on Discord that he was in. I accepted, and found out that the next big gathering for everyone interested in GBF was for Anime Expo 2018. I got to talk to a handful of people on the server over the next few months, and got to know some of the more-active people there.

Once AX came around, I attended the GBF gathering. The meetup was unfortunately in the sun at 110 F and not only was I overheating a bit, but some of my accessories and props were starting to warp from the heat. Regardless, I'm thankful that I was able to attend and put some faces to some people I had been talking to over the few months! Ever since AX 2018, the server has exploded and grown so much, and we now make it a tradition to hang out together with either a big group dinner or a casual gathering with nuggies after a big con like Fanime or AX.

photo: @adorables

For me, cosplaying is a way to express yourself, and to have fun cosplaying while making so many new positive memories. I think that the latter point is much more important, because while I'm more than happy to express myself and my creativity in my cosplays, I find it to be much more meaningful if I can enjoy the hobby with new people, old friends, or to just be proud of my work--even if I only made something very small in a cosplay I mostly thrifted. If I can look back on this hobby and think about all of the happy memories I've made, then I think I've done a pretty good job at celebrating the art of cosplay.

[uraniaswrld]

answering witchy questions

(from @theclosetedwitch​)

1. What type of witch are you? - i hate the whole trendy “witch types” thing, but i work with both high and low magick and i work with the Fair Folk and deities and a lot of herbalism.

2. Do you  believe it is wrong to hex? - very little is inherently wrong or right. you need context to decide if it’s moral or not. i don’t do hexes for no reason and i don’t initiate conflict, however if someone has fucked with my friends at all or tried to magickly harm me, you bet your ass that i’m gonna return-to-sender that bitch at the very least. TL;DR i believe in revenge as long as it’s proportionate :)

3. Have you ever hexed anyone? - depends on what you consider a hex. i’ve certainly cast return to sender spells and tripwire spells, but i’ve never done baneful work to someone without them doing something to me first.

4. Which deities do you worship, if any? - i’m a devotee of Aphrodite, and i follow Rhiannon and Morpheus as well. i used to follow Apollo also but the time in my life that he was present for has ended. i work with a few other deities very casually on and off, but those three are the ones i’m worshipping right now.

5. What got you into witchcraft? - the pastor at a church i had to go to was doing a slideshow on “bad religions” and he pointed to a pentacle and said “this is a pentagram, a symbol used by wiccans. and you know what the call themselves? witches. and wizards. or warlocks, actually. witches and warlocks.” obviously, he didn’t know much about wicca or witchcraft but the sheer fact that there were people calling themselves “witches” was enough to pique my interest and i started my research. 

basically a christian pastor turned me pagan.

6. What is your favorite moon phase? - i love any time when i can see the moon, but i’m connected to the waning moon for Rhiannon, and the full moon because, idk, it’s pretty? i’m a dyke? unknown.

7.What is your favorite season? - beltane or samhain season

8.Which pagan celebration do you like most? - beltane for me is super happy and rich and beautiful, samhain is the time of year when i’m most connected to my craft, and imbolc season sucks ass but the rituals are really nice.

9.Are you in the broom closet? - to my family, somewhat. i talk about astrology to fuck with them because they’re christians, but i don’t talk about witchcraft or paganism because i’d surely get kicked out or at least punished super heavily.

10. What is your favorite herb to work with? - i’m gonna interpret this as favourite herb/spice, so nutmeg, cloves, juniper berries and chamomile

11. What are your favorite crystals, and why? - to be honest, most crystals i just use for the colour correspondances. i’m not super connected to most crystals but i do love black tourmaline for protection, and then i have some specific crystals that have a lot of meaning for me, like an amethyst point i got from a coven sister for my first imbolc, or a half of a geode that i share with my best friend, or my obsidian worrystone that shows up when i need it.

12. Have you ever had a spell backfire? - i’ve had spells not work, but outright backfire i don’t think so.

13. Do you work skyclad? - no, because of *body image issues* and also i’m cold all the time

14. Are you in a coven? - yes! it’s pretty casual and informal, and there’s not hp/ hps so it’s more of a working group, but coven sounds way better. our coven blog is @circleofpyxis​ and our instagram is circleofpyxiscoven

15. Do you believe in good and evil? - in individuals, yes. i know that there are inherently evil people. i don’t think that there are any inherently good people, and i think we’re all born neutral, but our actions define where we lie as far as morality. 

16.What is the most successful spell you have ever performed? - either a very stupid surface-y spell to get a part i wanted in a play, or a spell to get rid of unwanted romantic feelings.

17. Do you do any divination? - yes!

18. If you do do divination, what kind? - i read futhark runes, dabble in tarot, and scry using fire or water

19. Do you read tarot? - a little

20. If you do, what is your favorite card? - i can’t remember them all off the top of my head but i love the hierophant in my deck

21. Have you ever had any dreams that came true? - i don’t have prophetic dreams, but i have a different sort of brand of metaphysical dream. i’m not sure how to describe it, but i think it’s my spirit guide just watching out for me. for example, i once needed to wake up at 6:30 but forgot to set an alarm, and i had this experience-- it must’ve been a dream-- but it felt like i was awake but my eyes were still closed, and then i heard my mom’s voice saying “it’s time to wake up, you have to go to your meeting” and i opened my eyes (in the dream) and saw my mom. then i woke up for real and no one was there, but the clock read 6:30 exactly.

another time i had a dream where my dad told me that distrokid had updated and i could see how much money i’d made, and then i woke up and distrokid really had updated, which only happens every month at most.

22. Are you in a religion? - i’m still trying to figure out exactly my denomination, but i’m a pagan of celtic and hellenic traditions.

23. Which do you like better: new moon or full moon? - i adore all of the new moon goddesses but i’m sorry, the full moon has my heart.

24. What was the first spell you have ever performed? - it was this really little simple spell for happiness. it was really just an incantation actually, i didn’t use any tools or anything, but it worked so i’m not complaining.

25.Do you believe it is wrong to cast love spells? - if you don’t have the consent of the other individual(s) then yes. otherwise, if you’re just attracting “a good match” or self-love, there’s nothing wrong with that.

26.Have you ever cast a love spell? - self love spells and romance-banishing spells yes.

27. What is your favorite magickal tool? - my peach wood wand that i made myself!

28. Do you like to work during the witching hour (3am ) ? - i do 90% of my workings at midnight or later, so yeah :)

29. Are you a hereditary witch? - nope, it’s just me and my suspiciously-invested-in-crystals-and-astrology sister ;)

30.Do you believe it is possible to be born  witch? - you can be born into a family of witches but it’s not like some people are born witches and no one else can practice. everyone has magick, everyone has power. some people have different intuitive strengths, but everyone has strengths.

31. Do you believe initiation is essential to be a witch? - no. in some religious traditions you need to be initiated (like wicca), but witchcraft is for everyone.

32. Do you have a  familiar? - no

33.What is your spirit animal? - i’m not indigenous so i don’t have one.

34. Which deity or god are you closest to? - my patroness is Aphrodite

35. Thoughts on reincarnation? - i believe in reincarnation but i also want to die and have it be over so it’s complicated jdfhjhfd

36. Current altar setup? - my mabon altar is still up since it’s still technically mabon season but i’m putting up my samhain altar tonight. i also have shrines to Aphrodite and Morpheus on my altar year-round.

37. Feelings and thoughts on Wicca? - i don’t practice, and there are a lot of issues with gardner, but there are issues with people in every religion. i don’t see a problem with wicca or wiccans, it just isn’t my religion.

38. What is your favorite element to work with? - water

39. Do you have a book of shadows? - i have both a BoS and a grimoire

40. Have you ever tried reading runes? - yes! that’s my best method of divination.

41. If so, what is your favorite rune, and why? - THIS IS SO HARD! i have a few. eiwaz, peorth, and ehwaz are some of my faves.

42. Do you believe in casting circles before every spell? - no, i do it for my rituals and sabbat workings, but at least for my practice, with the frequency that i do workings, i simply don’t have time to cast before spells.

43. If so, how do you cast your circles? - i might do a post on this later, but i close/ cast the circle deosil and then open it at the end of a ritual widdershins.

44. Ever tried knot magick? - yes! i use knot magick for a protection anklet i always wear.

45. Have you ever participated in, or watched the Great Rite (ritual sex)? - no. i’m underage and not interested in sex magick anyway. 

46. What is your favorite color to work with, in magick? - red and black

46. Which deities do you have altars for? - Aphrodite and Rhiannon.

47. What is your favorite setting which you prefer to practice in? - i only do rituals after dark and i like practicing solitary but i also love practicing with my friends/ covenmates.

48. Do you know how to read palms? - no

49. If so, have you ever read palms, either yourself or others? - no

50. Are you more connected with the masculine, or the feminine? - feminine, but i try to work with a balance

51. Favorite day of the week to practice in? do you even care? - friday but not for any metaphysical reason, just because i’m least stressed then and have the most time.

52. How long have you been practicing? - over two years

53. Which  witchy traditions do you observe? - i celebrate the wheel of the year sabbats, and the esbats, and Rhiannon’s day on march 1st

54. Favorite planet to work with? - Venus

55. Favorite direction  ( est, west, north, south) to work with? - west

56. Favorite number to work with * numerology *? - 64 and 11

57. Do you have a magick wand, and if so, what is it made of? - yes, it’s made from peach wood.

58. Do you prefer the sun or the moon? - moon

59. Pointy hat or no pointy hat? - absoLUTELY pointy hat

60. What is it that you LOVE about witchcraft - i love my deities and i love how comforting my craft is when i feel alone

[aestheticseungmean]

Midnight Academy- Yeosang

You were born with magic, and because of that, you went to Midnight Academy. Yeosang caught your eye the first time you met him.

Magic Au, loosely based off of Harry Potter.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Life as someone with magical powers can be fun if you knew how to use them. The wrong wrist motion could injure someone and the wrong pronunciation could turn someone into a frog and not a cat. Risks are a casual thing in the world of magic. There are many types of magic that each child will learn in Midnight Academy. It was a simple and quaint little school that was restored regularly. Not a crack lay in the foundation nor a chip of paint peeling from the wall at the start of the year. Throughout the year, typically, newer students blow up potions and cause the loaned rats to explode. Nasty business that is. The poor caretaker has to scrape the bits off the wall before scrubbing it clean.

You could see why he hated new students and trouble makers, they made his job impossible sometimes. If students were bad, their punishments consist of helping Mr.Darty with his job. Mr.Darty was an older elf gentleman with balding grey hair. More often than not, he was cranky as most of the staff were. He was always found accompanied by his favorite Sphynx cat, Chabiel. The two were inseparable as if the cat was his life support. Mr. Darty was not the only teacher who seemed to have an animal attached to them. Although he was by far, the one with the ugliest. Often, you’d see a mixture of miniature dragons, owls, cats, dogs, and even an occasional Harpy Eagle or Peregrine Falcon. They typically roamed the halls to deliver notes and packages to and fro their owners that the mailroom was too lazy to deliver or be bothered.

This year was a special one. It’s your first year at the Midnight Academy. Time to get away from the non-magical creatures. Muggles as they are called. You loathe your brothers whom you live with. Silence is scarce in that household and luckily, you were the only one who had inherited your mom’s recessive trait of witchcraft. She herself had not had any magic rather, she made up for it by being a very successful business tycoon. Often, you helped her manage some of her gaming companies and you tested them too. Hex Gaming Co. was the creator of some of the world’s most famous games such as Utopia, Weapons of Deception, Deception 2, Undying, and more. All of which were some magical role-playing game that was super addicting and had kids playing it everywhere. If you ever told anyone who your mom was then instant fame. Your dad, on the other hand, was not as famous but he was still a famous musician.

Aside from your brothers, the only person to know about your wealth and parents’ true jobs was your best friend, San. He had inherited magic but he’s also part incubus. You met him when he appeared on your block five summers ago. Fourteen was your current age now and you guys practically live with each other and do everything together. When most people hear that San is part incubus, they stay away because they are afraid of having their dreams visited. But what people didn’t stay to find out that San didn’t find the need to go into people’s dreams. Besides, he only found you slightly attractive, everyone else wasn’t even on the radar. Deep down you know that he might be bi but he will not let you have the satisfaction of being right.

————————————————————————

𝗬𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝗢𝗻𝗲

San and you entered into the school that is more intimidating the closer you get. The seeming mile-high doorway made you feel small enough already. All the new students were being crowded together to get handed their classes and dorms they were going to stay in. Of course, you will miss your brothers but you got San! You’d prefer that any day. “I hope we get the same dorms. I don’t think I’d be able to live without you.” “Me too, San. Me too.” To say that you weren’t scared for your life was an understatement. Anymore worrying and you’d be dead. Finally, your turn came around to get your scroll. The teacher administering them was undeniably short and part goblin. He had a snaggle tooth that stuck out of the bottom of his mouth and long Yoda like ears that stuck out of his head. Little hairs covered the face, they were minuscule but visible.

“Name.” The voice was gravely and harsh but you still gave him your name. “Here you go.” You took the parchment with shaky hands. San waited for you at the door. “I got Sapphire dorm!” As soon as your face fell, so did his. “I got Emerald dorm.” Emerald dorm has the reputation of some really mean and uptight people. They are usually the richest ones. “No escaping from my money now.” You groaned out. San placed a quick kiss to your cheek. “You got this.” He ignored the stares but you didn’t. Blood rushed towards your cheeks. A slender figure appeared in front of you. You recognized it as the teacher most often seen by the headmaster. Her voice was strong and dominant, perfect for teaching. She was aged like the expensive cheese your mom was forced to eat at business meetings. “ATTENTION! You are to go in and find the table corresponding with the dorm name you got. The headmaster will address you soon.” As you walked in, hand in hand with San, you were taken aback by the busy chatter. Almost immediately, you were pulled away from San and torn to the table decorated in different hues of green.

You know nobody so where to sit was nerve-wracking for you. “You can sit by me.” A hand waved in the air and you saw a boy giving you a cute smile. “Me?” He could be talking to anyone so you wanted to make sure. “Yeah! I’m new too.” With nowhere better to sit, you sat down next to the blond boy. “Hi! I’m Wooyoung and I hope we can be friends!” “I’m ________.” You smiled at him. A voice sounded through the room getting everyone’s attention. “Students. Most of you are coming back from a great year last year and I wish you a welcome. For the new students coming here this year, we all give you a warm welcome and wish you well in the following days to come. Make good friends, learn new things, and most importantly, do great things. I hope that I do not need to interfere with any problems as our teachers will deal with it accordingly. Just know, we will be paying attention.” Wooyoung and you shared a nervous look.

“For now, we feast!” Little fairies delivered the food to the table. Immediately, you recognized them as brownies. They are house fairies that live to clean as love dishes of cream. You loved the brownie that resides at your grandparents’ house. His name was Hayelam and he was the nicest creature you had ever met. At night when everyone was supposed to be asleep, you’d sneak out and leave a bowl of warm cream on the counter. It was a ritual and you couldn’t go to sleep without doing it. Maybe you could sneak some for them. Without thinking, you grabbed some cream. “Are you going to make whipped cream for this delicious pecan pie?” Wooyoung asked, causing you to look at him. “Ah no, habit. I’m going to heat it up somehow for the brownies.” “Brownies? Where?” You giggled at Wooyoung looking for actual brownies. “The house-elves silly. They love warm cream.”

Taking out your wand, you attempted to do a simple heat spell but it didn’t work. Neither did the next six tries. “Let me try.” How would he be able to do it? You watched in amazement as the metal bowl in his hands turned a soft red causing the cream to simmer a little. “Woah!” The cream was still hot when he set it down onto the table. “I’m a descendent of a fire fairy.” “I guess you could say that you’re hot.” Normally, San would give you a dirty look for your puns but Wooyoung loved it. Although he was laughing, he was dying inside from embarrassment. “Let’s dig in!” You exclaimed, grabbing a turkey leg and taking a bite. San laughed at you from afar glad that you found someone to talk to. Don’t forget about me. Get out of my head, San. Looking up, you caught him pouting but after you gave him a smile, he cheered up.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

“Mr.Song, would you be so kind as to answer this question on the board?” Your red-haired classmate stayed visibly slumped in his seat. He wasn’t the only one confused, you watched as Wooyoung got confused as well. Discreetly, you waved your wand and watched as the answer appeared on your seatmate’s notebook. Thank god that he saw it appear and reworded it. “In a sense, if you added blisterwort instead of chorus eggs then you would essentially get a toxic hair remover. Extremely dangerous if taken in as it acts as a poison as well. The victim would be dead within minutes.” “Very good, Mingi.” The teacher turned and continued on with her endless lecture. “Thank you,” Mingi whispered. “You’re welcome!” Your hushed voices caught the teacher’s attention and she was now standing in front of you. “What are you saying you’re welcome for?” Once again, Mingi froze up, you, on the other hand, were used to this pressure.

Thinking quickly of a lie, you responded calmly. “My seatmate asked me to help him with the things he doesn’t understand.” “Hmmm, all right. No more talking in my class.” The bell rang and the hallway became overfilled. “Wait up!” A hand on your shoulder made you jump. You turned and saw Mingi. He was taller than you thought, around 6’0. “Can you actually tutor me in alchemy?” “Sure. The defense room is empty around six.” He smiled and nodded. A different, smaller hand appeared on your shoulder except for this time, you recognized this hand. “San!” You were quick to hug him tight. “We have the next class together so I wanted to see if you wanted to walk with me and meet my new friend.” Playfully, you pinched him and pouted. “You’ve already replaced me?” “YOU REPLACED ME FIRST,” he whined. Mingi, who was still there, cleared his throat. “Oh yeah, San, this is Mingi, my classmate and friend. Mingi, this is San, my bestest friend in the entire world.

“What about me? I thought I was your bestest friend in the entire world and he was your BFF.” You giggled as you watched Wooyoung walk up still whining and complaining about your rejection. “Woo, of course, I love you. You two are my bestest friends in the whole wide world.” Once you introduced the two, Mingi went on his way while you, San, Wooyoung, and San’s friend whom you later learned was named Seonghwa, walked towards class. You watched as San waved bye to his newfound friend before walking into class with him and Wooyoung. In the middle of class, you watched as a 2nd-year student came in to get the teacher to break up a fight. “MR.OIEK! YEOSANG AND TJUM ARE FIGHTING RIGHT NOW.” “Lead the way, Hongjoong.” The class rushed towards the windows where there was a clear view of the courtyard.

Unfortunately, you got pushed out of the door during the madness and fell right into one of the boys. For a moment, the boys stopped and stared at you which let the teacher neutralize them. “Why are you out here Miss.____?” “I-I got pushed. Sorry, sir.” You hung your head in shame, not wanting to look into his intimidating eyes. Ignoring the pain in your wrist or the odd warm feeling on your lip, you stood up. “Yeosang, I trust that as a 2nd year you can show her to the nurse’s office.” “Yes sir.” When you started to protest, the boy gave you a look, the one your brothers gave you when you should shut up. Sighing, both of you started trekking towards the nurse’s office well aware of the fact that you’ll be missing the next class too. With Yeosang leading the way, you couldn’t help but take in his figure from behind.

“Right in here.” “I’m fine, I really don’t know why you are taking me to the nurse.” The look on Yeosang’s face made you question if you were losing your mind. “You are bleeding from a cut on your face and your wrist is sprained.” If that wasn’t convincing enough, the nurse told you the same thing. There wasn’t much she could do quickly so she gave you a concoction of herbs to help heal you. “Wait here for a few minutes so it can start working.” You nodded and watched as the old woman sauntered away, mahogany robes swishing with each step. As soon as the door shut, you turned to Yeosang who was forced to stay with you. He was entranced by something outside of the window, a bird perhaps. His features were vague but what stood out to you was a birthmark adorning his left eye. Your gaze traveled down his body, crossing over his arms and his black robe with a sapphire blue trim and down further. Underneath the undone robe, you caught sight of the pressed button-up with the top two undone showing the perfect amount of collarbone.

His gaze flickered towards you and you looked at your feet, avoiding the blush of the fact that he caught you when you were checking him out. “I saw that, you just checked me out.” A meek sorry was all that you could manage, your face ten times redder now that he called you out. Luck was on your side, the nurse returned and assessed the healing. She warned you not to strain your wrist too much until tomorrow. You agreed and followed Yeosang back to where lunch was being held. All through lunch, you couldn’t take your eyes off of the older boy and you completely ignored what Wooyoung was saying. It wasn’t until Yeosang caught your eye that you looked away, nodding to whatever Wooyoung was saying. You still threw him glances and at one point, you swore you saw him smile. Or smirk. Either way, you finally focused on Wooyoung and whatever he was saying.

Lunch ended and it was time for the next lesson. Fighting. For some reason, the school decided to do second years and first years together, something about the experience. The teacher, short and balding, partnering you up with a short boy, definitely a second year, about two inches taller. His casual laid back posture made him look superior despite the fact that you won every sparing round. “Petrificus Totalus!” You flicked your wand before he could blink and once again, he found himself bound, unable to move. “Very good work, Miss._____!” The boy, whom you later learned was named Hongjoong, congratulated you on doing well while pouting. You thought it was absolutely cute. The bell rang and you stayed behind. There was still a few hours before dinner and Mingi was supposed to meet you. A tall figure emerged behind you and then another.

“I hope you don’t mind, I brought a friend.” “Do they need tutoring too?” Mingi shook his head. “Great work at fighting today, Hongjoong couldn’t even raise his wand.” Mingi’s friend, who was as tall as him if not taller, sported black robes with an emerald green trim. Same as yours and you can’t fathom how you missed someone as tall as him roaming around the dorm. “I’m Yunho by the way.” His cute smile gave you puppy vibes and you forced the instinct to cuddle him away. Mingi introduced you quickly to move on through to alchemy. You couldn’t help but giggle when his potion failed and he screamed at it. “I DID YOU RIGHT! YOU JUST DON'T LIKE ME, DO YOU?” Eventually, you found yourself rolling on the floor laughing when Yunho had put a silencing hex on Mingi. Mingi continued to scream but nothing came out. “You only get your voice returned when you get a kiss on the cheek.” Mingi sheepishly looked at you and leaned closer. “Yunho…” He laughed and ended the hex. Mingi was taken aback at first but ultimately ended up laughing along. Maybe this year wouldn’t be so bad after all.

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Year two

Grey clouds rolled overhead signaling the start of another gloomy season. You, San, Wooyoung, Seonghwa, Mingi, Yunho, and Hongjoong trudged towards the train car that was to take you back to the academy. Surprisingly enough, you realized that the boys didn’t live that far from you. As summer rolled along, you and the six boys grew closer and of course, your brothers liked them too. Yeosang, you found, should’ve been in the emerald dorm but something got screwed up in the housing situation. The rumor got around that he was being switched back to the correct dorm though only time will tell. Although, it would be quite awkward. The seven of you were confused to find someone in your car already. A boy of a stronger build and brown hair sat by the window staring out of it. “Hello?” His head snapped towards you. “I’m sorry, am I in your area?” He was new, you could feel it, the newbie energy radiating off of him. You knew the others could too. “It’s okay! You can sit with us. I mean you’re new aren’t you?” Gosh, you love how kind Wooyoung is. He’s so sweet, you are surprised you don’t have a cavity. “Y-Yeah.” As you all settled in, the boy introduced himself as Jongho.

We introduced ourselves and soon got lost in laughter and conversation. “Did you see the new Deception: End Of Time game is coming out tomorrow?” Wooyoung asked. An abundance of yeahs and can’t waits filled the car in agreement. “You’ll love it. I did.” The boys looked at you in confusion. San laughed and nudged you. These people didn’t know you were one of the testers of the game let alone the daughter of the creator. “My mom runs that company and created those games. I test them out.” “You have to convince her to let us test some out too.” You giggled at Jongho’s enthusiasm. “Maybe during spring break. I know mom is working on a big game.” They cheered quietly. San a little more considering he’s done it before and knows the excitement of giving suggestions. It was also a bonus when the character he creates in the test is a character that gets added to the game and is already situated to his stats.

The ride to the school felt short. Jongho proved to be a perfect fit for your friend group. He sank back at the intensity of the school but you and your friends ushered him forwards. “Don’t worry! You’re only alone until they give you a dorm and there is at least one of us in each dorm.” The first year smiled and watched as you guys sat at your respected tables. It wasn’t that long of a wait considering his surname was a C. He quickly found that he got ruby dorm. It turns out for you that Yeosang and Yunho got mixed up therefore Yunho was with San and Yeosang got transferred into his rightful dorm. The headmaster made his welcoming speech before launching into an apology. “I’d like to wish a formal apology towards two-third years. I humbly ask for you to see this as a way to make new friends.”

You glanced over at Yeosang getting surrounded by a bunch of people welcoming him into the emerald dorm. His face looked panicked, clear that he was not used to all this attention. Wooyoung seemed to notice it too and felt for his hyung. “Yeosang, hyung! You can sit with us if you want.” He looked at the two of you, happy, ecstatic to see two faces he knew. A year ago, if someone would’ve told you that you’d be sitting with Kang Yeosang, you’d have laughed in their face. But here you are now, sitting face to face with the boy. His eyes met yours and you fell into a trance. “Earth to ______!” “Sorry, what were you saying?” Wooyoung repeated his words once again, not even bothered that you had zoned out once more. The bell rang and you jumped up, ready to head to the dorms, forgetting the tradition you and Wooyoung did every day last year. “Are we not going to heat up some cream for the brownies?” You turned and nodded sheepishly while grabbing a bowl of cream someone had left. Yeosang watched in amazement as Wooyoung's hands caused the liquid to bubble.

The following weeks of school consisted of review and having awkward run-ins with Yeosang. It wasn’t until your professor introduced teleportation to you that things got started. All second years had to learn how to use their magic and teleport from one place to another. And with most people, you initially aren’t the greatest when you start to learn something. For the next few days, you’ve practiced and practiced, only teleporting to the common room and back to your room. Unfortunately, the following day, you were going to be tested on your skills, and frankly, you could barely even make it out of your bedroom. This is how you found yourself at two in the morning on the roof of the mailroom trying to teleport from one end to the other.

You closed your eyes and imagined the other side and muttered some hopeful words that this would actually work. A quiet pop sounded and you opened your eyes to complete darkness. Trying to find your way out of wherever you were, you blindly walked around only stopping when you hit your ankle on something metal. The surface you fell on was a mix between hard and soft. A pained groan emitted from behind you causing you to let out a few choice words. In the midst of the rant, a light turned on and you caught Yeosang’s brown eyes boring into yours. “Well, this is most definitely not where I wanted to teleport, sorry for appearing in your bed at 2 in the morning.” The words lingered in the air and neither one of you moved. Maybe you should just give up and fail the test.

A sigh left Yeosang’s lips and he grabbed his wand. You watched curiously as he stood up and took a place beside you. “Hold my hand.” “H-Hold your what?” His hand grabbed yours and you felt the familiar swirly feeling that you got when you teleported. A cold breeze brushed your cheeks and you shivered realizing that you were back outside. “Why did you bring me here?” This was the first time, you actually went into the gym despite this being your second year. “I’ve been hearing from Wooyoung that you have a test tomorrow and I…I wanted to help you learn to teleport.” You wanted to hold Yeosang and treasure him forever but that would be quite awkward. “Okay then. What are we waiting for?”

Turns out that either you’re a great teleporter or Yeosang is a great teacher. You opted for Yeosang though because without him, you would’ve failed. In fact, you actually aced your test. The first one since the best friend test that you did with San in first grade. When the students were to return to the dorm, you waited excitedly with the little slip of paper in your hand. For the first time, Yeosang was late back to the dorm. He found you asleep on the couch beside Wooyoung who was doing his homework. “Hey, hyung!” “Hi, Wooyoung. Why is she asleep?” He asked, pointing to your form. “She wanted to show you that she aced her test and she waited and waited for you. I came out to keep her company but she fell asleep.” Yeosang carried you to your room and tucked you into your bed. He left a note with one of the post-its that he found on your desk along with your unfinished homework. He’ll apologize tomorrow for leaving you waiting for so long.

The knock on your door woke you up. When you opened your eyes, you saw the sunlight peeping in through the cloudy windows. “Rise and shine, angel. It’s almost time for class.” Shoot. Class. You rushed to get dressed only stopping momentarily to read the note attached to your now finished homework. ‘I’m sorry I kept you waiting, I had some things I had to do. Meet me on the rooftop tonight at midnight so we can celebrate your success. -Yeosang’ You shoved the paper and the note in your bag before running out to the common room. “Come on Woo! We’re going to be late for class.” You two rushed to the Alchemy classroom and took your assigned seats. A smile formed on your face as you saw your seatmate had already made it there. “Good morning, Sannie!” “Morning, Sunshine.” He smiled at your chirpiness and returned his attention to the homework he was rushing to finish.

The day buzzed by and midnight arrived quickly. Quietly, you teleported to the roof and saw Yeosang already sitting on the edge. “Such a pretty moon, isn’t it?” His question caught you off guard. Had he heard you arriving. “Yes, I suppose so.” “So I heard you aced your test for the first time. Glad I could help.” You took a seat next to him and sighed, watching your breath form a cloud in the chilly air. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much you’ve helped me.” “I want to make a deal. For each test you ace, I’ll tell you something about me.” Yeosang is a mysterious person and plus you had so many questions about him. Why is he in the Emerald dorm? Favourite food? Cats or dogs? Why go to the academy? Why teach you? “For your first test, I’ll tell you what everyone wants to know. How am I in the ‘rich’ people dorm?”

He told you how his dad was a very famous doctor and his mother was a famous chef. His deal made you ace all your tests-with help from him of course- for the rest of the school year. By the time summer rolled around, you practically knew his entire life story, like how he loves the colors red and black or how much he treasures his drones. You knew that he vents by riding a skate board and he loves to play your mom’s videogames. His reaction was just like the other’s when you told him who your mom was. Yeosang demanded -more like pleaded but he won’t admit that- to meet your mom and praise her for her games. When you introduced him to the guys, they all welcomed him with open arms aside from Hongjoong and Seonghwa who were previously friends with him already.

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You walked around blindly, only stopping when you hit your ankle on something metal. The surface you fell on was a mix between hard and soft. A pained groan emitted from behind you causing you to let out a few choice words. In the midst of the rant, a light turned on and you caught Yeosang’s brown eyes boring into yours. “Well, this is most definitely not where I wanted to teleport, sorry for appearing in your bed at 2 in the morning.” The words lingered in the air and neither one of you moved. Maybe you should just give up and fail the test.

A sigh left Yeosang’s lips and he grabbed his wand. You watched curiously as he stood up and took a place beside you. “Hold my hand.” “H-Hold your what?” His hand grabbed yours and you felt the familiar swirly feeling that you got when you teleported. A cold breeze brushed your cheeks and you shivered realizing that you were back outside. “Why did you bring me here?” This was the first time, you actually went into the gym despite this being your second year. “I’ve been hearing from Wooyoung that you have a test tomorrow and I…I wanted to help you learn to teleport.” You wanted to hold Yeosang and treasure him forever but that would be quite awkward. “Okay then. What are we waiting for?”

Turns out that either you’re a great teleporter or Yeosang is a great teacher. You opted for Yeosang though because without him, you would’ve failed. In fact, you actually aced your test. The first one since the best friend test that you did with San in first grade. When the students were to return to the dorm, you waited excitedly with the little slip of paper in your hand. For the first time, Yeosang was late back to the dorm. He found you asleep on the couch beside Wooyoung who was doing his homework. “Hey, hyung!” “Hi, Wooyoung. Why is she asleep?” He asked, pointing to your form. “She wanted to show you that she aced her test and she waited and waited for you. I came out to keep her company but she fell asleep.” Yeosang carried you to your room and tucked you into your bed. He left a note with one of the post-its that he found on your desk along with your unfinished homework. He’ll apologize tomorrow for leaving you waiting for so long.

The knock on your door woke you up. When you opened your eyes, you saw the sunlight peeping in through the cloudy windows. “Rise and shine, angel. It’s almost time for class.” Shoot. Class. You rushed to get dressed only stopping momentarily to read the note attached to your now finished homework. ‘I’m sorry I kept you waiting, I had some things I had to do. Meet me on the rooftop tonight at midnight so we can celebrate your success. -Yeosang’ You shoved the paper and the note in your bag before running out to the common room. “Come on Woo! We’re going to be late for class.” You two rushed to the Alchemy classroom and took your assigned seats. A smile formed on your face as you saw your seatmate had already made it there. “Good morning, Sannie!” “Morning, Sunshine.” He smiled at your chirpiness and returned his attention to the homework he was rushing to finish.

The day buzzed by and midnight arrived quickly. Quietly, you teleported to the roof and saw Yeosang already sitting on the edge. “Such a pretty moon, isn’t it?” His question caught you off guard. Had he heard you arriving. “Yes, I suppose so.” “So I heard you aced your test for the first time. Glad I could help.” You took a seat next to him and sighed, watching your breath form a cloud in the chilly air. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much you’ve helped me.” “I want to make a deal. For each test you ace, I’ll tell you something about me.” Yeosang is a mysterious person and plus you had so many questions about him. Why is he in the Emerald dorm? Favourite food? Cats or dogs? Why go to the academy? Why teach you? “For your first test, I’ll tell you what everyone wants to know. How am I in the ‘rich’ people dorm?”

He told you how his dad was a very famous doctor and his mother was a famous chef. His deal made you ace all your tests-with help from him of course- for the rest of the school year. By the time summer rolled around, you practically knew his entire life story, like how he loves the colors red and black or how much he treasures his drones. You knew that he vents by riding a skate board and he loves to play your mom’s videogames. His reaction was just like the other’s when you told him who your mom was. Yeosang demanded -more like pleaded but he won’t admit that- to meet your mom and praise her for her games. When you introduced him to the guys, they all welcomed him with open arms aside from Hongjoong and Seonghwa who were previously friends with him already.

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𝙔𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙏𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚

Everything was the same as last summer except this time, Yeosang was involved. The same playful banters and video games nights proceeded as normal. The adventures and park dates continued. To them, Yeosang was just another family member, not an outsider. Everything was the same down to a T. The ten of you gathered on the train once again to head to yet another year at the academy. For you, it was the third year of your life but for the older three, it was the beginning of their last year at the academy. Four years is the total amount of schooling needed to be deemed okay enough to use magic on the streets. Although, some students head onto university to further their magic education or regular education depending on who you ask. If you asked your mom, she’d say something along the lines of it’s not her place but four years is way too short.

The dorm rooms were the same as usual, clean and tiny. It almost feels like home. You sighed and sat your bags on the bed and headed to the common room to spend some time with Wooyoung. When you got downstairs, he was sitting there staring at the fire. “Hey, Woo! Long time no see.” You joked around. He smiled and tackled you in a hug. “You saw me thirty minutes ago but it does feel like forever.” He squeezed you extra tight before letting go and returning to his original seat. He patted the seat indicating that he wanted you to sit so you did. The seat was slightly warmed by the heat of the fire. It was cozy and swallowed you into the cushion. “Wooyoung?” He hummed and turned his head towards, signaling that you had his attention. “What’s going to happen to the friend group now? I mean it’s Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Yunho and Yeosang’s last year. Next year Mingi, San, you and I are graduating. And, Jongho will be last. I’m scared, Woo. I don’t want to lose us.”

His eyes softened and he ran his fingers through his hair which showcased his sad eyes. It was evident, he didn’t want to lose you and the guys either. Unbeknownst to you, from the staircase, Yeosang was heartbroken and his eyes threatening to spill tears. Before he came to this school, he was a nobody. A quiet kid who was good at school and had anxiety. He couldn’t make friends, it was impossible. Yeosang couldn’t stop embarrassing himself in front of his classmates. He had told you all this already after you aced your transformation test at the very end of the year. Your words on that night will forever play in his head as a way of remembering that he could make friends who loved him. “Yeosang-ah. I want you to know that if you ever need a friend, just call me and I’ll be there.” No way could he let you guys go. Back in reality, you cried silently into Wooyoung’s sweater. Yeosang had to control his own emotions before helping you, besides, Wooyoung looked like he was doing a good job.

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You hated Yeosang. You hated that he had you putty in his hands but was completely oblivious to it. Either you were going to confess or you were going to die. Those are your only two options until you told San and he suggested using a love potion. It seemed like a good idea at first but it soon became a fiasco. Neither one of you knew how to make a love potion, that was advanced stuff. Something Yunho would know. This is how you found yourself in the kitchen baking a ‘Love Cupcake” as the boys called it. “I don’t know if I’d be scared or honoured if a girl slipped me a love potion.” San pondered out loud to no one in particular. “I’d be scared.” “Yunho, you aren’t helping my mind.” He smiled and let out a quick ah as if he was going to say something. “This is the perfect thing for Yeosang. I’m tired of seeing you go for an oblivious idiot.”

The cupcake turned out messy and San ended up wearing more than half the icing due to a wrong cut to the tip of the bag. But all in all, you were pretty impressed with the look of the sweet pastry. The yellow cake topped with the light red icing was placed on a paper plate. You carefully held it and met up with the rest of the boys in the courtyard. “Yeosang! I have this for you. As a thank you.” Yeosang grabbed the cupcake and took a bite. He hummed in delight and watched you throw away the plate. “This is delicious. Thank you.” According to Yunho, once the item containing the potion is consumed, it will take up to twenty-four hours for it to set in. You mustered up the most innocent smile you could form. Now, you wait.

𝑇ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑦𝑠 passed and Yeosang was still acting the same as usual. No compliments, no flirting, no heart eyes. Maybe the potion was incorrect. Not possible, Yunho aced that class. Maybe, it didn’t work. It doesn’t hurt to ask the ‘Potion Master’ if something went wrong. “Three days passed and he’s still acting the same. Is it possible that it failed?” “No way. I’ve seen this work before. There’s no chance for it to go wrong.” Now you were forced to confess. Well, eventually. You turned to go back to your dorm to vent to your diary. “Hey, _____!” That smooth, deep voice set you off. You turned towards Yeosang and stomped up to him. “You-“ you forcefully poked him in the chest. “I slipped you a love potion but what the hell? You’re not even acting different.” You threw your hands up in the air in defeat at his confused look.

“Maybe, if you used your brain, you would’ve noticed a lot sooner that I like you.” Yeosang towered over you and watched as you stood in place dumbfounded. “Close your mouth princess, you’ll catch bugs.” “Y-You like me? Like, like like?” At this point, Yeosang was fed up with your obliviousness as hypocritical as it seems. “If it weren’t against the rules, I’d kiss you.” “Screw the rules!” The boys were cheering as you and Yeosang snuck a quick kiss. “Meet me on the roof tonight for our first date.” A smile appeared on your face and suddenly, you couldn’t wait for midnight to roll around. As excited you were for the night, it seems like mother time had other plans. The seconds seemed to pass by slow, almost as if each tick was an hour itself. Finally, midnight rolled around and you teleported to the roof to find Yeosang sitting on a blanket surrounded by a bunch of food. What a perfect first date for you.

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Face Off || Morgan & Cece

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @thebickedwitchoftherest & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Morgan and Cece go digging for buried witchy treasure. Cece faces more than she bargained for.

CONTAINS: gun (salt rounds, not fired), shenanigans 

Blanche had told Morgan that having an object, especially one belonging to the spirit in life, might help the seance go better. Morgan knew from the summoning that bones would probably be the most ideal if there was such a thing, but the idea of planning a trip to Texas ahead of the one she had already scheduled between the anniversaries of her parents’ deaths was more than she could bear. The next best thing? Finding Agnes Bachman’s trove of witchcraft. “So, fun fact, I actually tried to dig this up before, but I got attacked by some wild vampires and had to hole up in that shack until dawn,” she said, looking over her shoulder at Cece. “But that’s why we’re coming back here in broad daylight! Besides, I think this is still sort of on my property line?” She gestured to the pile of rubble around across the street and the brown, barren field between it and where they stood in the Bend, shovels in hand, beneath a suspiciously robust tree. Morgan tried to run the distance measurements in her head. “Maybe not, but that’s gonna be our story if anyone comes asking. But, you know, probably not.” She stuck the shovel into the ground with her foot, pleasantly surprised when it broke the ground with ease. Zombie strength had its advantages sometimes. “So, how’ve you been?”

Drinking and researching a stolen box with Morgan? A-okay. Breaking into a woman’s home to steals some books? Great time. But Cece might have to draw the line at the physical labor. It wasn’t the trespassing on property or potential danger. It wasn’t even the casual mention of vampires attacking Morgan the last time she was here. It was mostly just the digging that Cece wasn’t up for. “We tend to break the law whenever we hang out now,” Cece mentioned, digging her own shovel into the ground and leaning against it, “Not complaining. Just a fun observation. Girls really do just want to have fun apparently.” While digging holes wasn’t one of those things that Cece considered to be much fun, the promise of some sort of buried treasure had certainly piqued her interest. “Aside from the whole being blown up in a Morgue thing, worse than that is dealing with Regan’s replacement.” Cece made fake vomiting noises for far longer than necessary and then forced herself to recompose, “Otherwise I am freaking phenomenal. Clearly you’re living your best life. Loving the Holes vibes that we have going on. So what exactly are we here for today?”

“I heard about that,” Morgan said, wincing. “Regan’s just having a time and a half right now. Hopefully it’ll just, you know, be temporary. Haven’t heard any stories about the new boss, though. Is he, what? Evil? Creepy? Mean? What’s the likelihood of your being able to hex him without him noticing? I put a monkey’s paw on Eye of Newt for a little while, and that was pretty fun.” She reached into her bag and passed Cece a thermos of mulled cider. She could see how, well, not well her share of the digging was going, and aside from the magic ability and know how to work on identifying their finds, Morgan had mostly asked her along for the company. “Here. Have some of this and sit back, I think it only takes one gal to dig a hole. When she’s dead anyway.” Morgan stuck her shovel in deeper, flinging dirt behind her. “And we’re after great great grandma Agnes’ trove of magic. She left home with one bag after the curse started taking her family, which means everything in her trove got left behind in good ol’ White Crest.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Mostly, I want something special of hers for a seance, but it’s gonna be pretty neat to see what kind of stuff she used for her magic back in olden times, right?”

“No, god, even worse.” Cece rolled her eyes. Rickers was the last thing she needed to talk about. “I can handle evil or creepy. He’s way too personable. Keeps telling me about his grandkids. It’s insufferable.” Usually, Cece welcomed casual conversation of any kind. She was a social creature after all, she liked the company of others. But something about that man made her want to jump into a river. “I could hex him so easily. He’s so gullible. Moron.” She wasn’t about to let Rickers ruin the fun though, and instead focused on Morgan’s time with Eye of Newt, “Amazing. I love being friends. Do I mention that enough?” Cece questioned, taking the thermos that Morgan passed over and taking a long sip of the alcoholic beverage. “So you’re saying you just want me to sit back, drink and chat? You get me, Morgan.” Cece happily obliged, leaning back against the grass and watching Morgan use that superhuman strength to dig holes deeper into the ground with a certain fascination. She had always wondered what having super strength must be like. Sounded dope. “Good ol Gram? Let’s hope she left behind something fun. Can’t say that I’d be thrilled about finding some magically glued dentures or alchemical ointment for her joint pain.”

“I love being friends with you too,” Morgan said, smiling bright. There was a certain specific ease with Cece that was hard to articulate to others. Their magic philosophy was different, but neither of them took themselves so seriously that it was a problem. And sharing a lack of compunctions about the law and uses of violence to get out of tight spaces was more important between friends who wanted to stay honest with each other. Morgan wasn’t even sure if Cece had a judgemental bone in her body, except for, you know, reckless cruelty like any halfway decent not-fae. But Morgan’s harm ritual wasn’t reckless. She was full of very specific intent, and every care was being taken. And giving Agnes closure with the news she was deviating the woman who’d condemned her to a painful death? Made for some very thoughtful icing on the cake. “Oh, it gets better than that,” Morgan said, grinning as she shoveled back more dirt. “She was just in her twenties when she left home. So this should hopefully have all the fun shit. Well, whatever fun amounted to in the 1890’s. Maybe it’ll be magic ointment for that poofy old-timey hair. Or old beauty charms? I’d love to see what baby witches got up to back then, like what was magic education even like then?”

Cece liked thinking about witches throughout the years. There was something fascinating about studying how witches evolved with the rest of the times, as well as how spells did. If spellcasters were ever a legitimate field of study, Cece might actually consider going back to school. For now, she’d have to settle through learning about magic through any witches she knew with a long line of witches in her family. “Great question. Can’t say that my witchy upbringing was exactly conventional. If my parents were spellcasters, being adopted didn’t exactly help me learn about it as a kid.” Cece had of course wondered what life might have been like had she actually grown up learning about magic from a young age. “My first exposure was from a coven. A very non-traditional one.”

“Your coven wasn’t with your parents?” Morgan asked curiously. She’d heard them mentioned in passing enough times that she’d just assumed it was at least partially a family thing. Morgan started digging, stopped, and looked at Cece quizzically again. “Wait, so you are this good without having to study your whole life?” She shovelled a few more times. “Jeez, are you some kind of magic prodigy?” She had a decent sized hole going. A  few more feet deeper and she’s start spreading outward and--clang! Morgan grinned. “I guess this means you get to pick a prize from grandma’s treasure box. At least something in here should go to someone who can actually use it. But holy shit, Cece. I know I say this a lot when you’re doing me favors, but you’re seriously amazing.” She started working double time until the trunk, just as impressive as you would expect from your average 19th century well-to-do family. Morgan pulled it free just with brute zombie strength and dragged it up from the hole. It was heavy,  “Now, before I literally jinx myself, do you think you can run something on this baby to dispel any magic seals and protection? As my ancestor, I’m fairly confident she wouldn’t throw this in the ground without protections.”

Cece shook her head, “Nope. My adopted parents had no clue about my witchy background. I didn’t figure out until like sixteen.” Cece shrugged. She had never considered herself to be uncommonly talented when it came to magic. She was aware that she was able to take care of herself under stressful circumstances but the thought never went much further than that. “Very funny,” Cece let out a sarcastic laugh, “I’m hardly a prodigy. The nice thing about moving around with a travelling coven is that I got to learn from all kinds of witches that specialized in different things. Plus being around nothing but other witches all the time gave me lots of chances to practice.” Morgan finally found the box she had been digging for and pulled it easily from the ground. It landed on the grass with a loud thud and Cece whistled, “Damn girl, those muscles though.” Cece sat up and eyed the box. It was larger than Cece thought it was going to be. Honestly, she was pretty curious about what was inside. “Let me take a peak and see what I can sniff out” Cece rubbed her hands together and crawled over to the box, rubbing her palm across it and feeling the magical energy emanating from it. “There’s definitely something going on here. Give me a few minutes to try to get rid of it.”

Morgan was familiar with the number of ways you could talk small magic into showing itself. In another life, her old life, she would’ve offered some ground thistle and raw energy to do it herself. But Cece had a home brew with the stuff she needed. A little Latin later, the potion absorbed into the wood, and the lock, apparently just an illusion, disappeared from sight. “I know you’re not a coven gal anymore, Cece, but I’d do you a solid anytime if you asked.” Out of habit, fae promise, rose to her lips, casual and earnest, but somewhere on its way up her throat, Morgan remembered Chloe in Lydia’s basement and swallowed her words back down, feeling sick.

A layer of dry flowers and fragrant herbs coated the items. Morgan had to sweep them all away to get to the rest. There were some things she expected, such as a handwritten grimoire, and some she didn’t, like an old party dress and petticoats. Morgan didn’t know anything about enchanting textiles, but she set them carefully aside just in case. They must have mattered to Agnes in order to be included in her trove. Beneath this were more papers, some torn from other books, ink and fountain pens, a few alchemical circles painted crudely on tanned hides, and a lot of jewelry and talismans. “So, she’s my great great grandma, so I get the pretty dress and the books, but you, my wonderful partner in crime, can pick something you like from the rest. I still haven’t thanked you for helping me go against that murder alchemist, so don’t be shy.”

As Morgan looked through the chest, Cece eyed the contents from far away. The chest’s magic had been strong, so it made sense to think that whatever was inside had been valuable to her grandmother. As far as Cece was concerned, that all belonged to Morgan. But aside from a few off limits items, Morgan seemed to think otherwise. “You don’t have to do that. I’m sure you could find some use for them. Somewhere.” But even as she said the words she slid closer to get a better peak at the contents. She pulled out a few things, including a vial of liquid that glowed a bright red color, “Hm. This is peculiar” Cece questioned, holding it up against the sun. She felt a prickling against her fingertips from holding the bottle. She eventually decided to uncap the thing, sniffing at its contents and jolting from the sudden sensation. “Hm. That shit is strong. Wonder what this stuff does?”

Morgan was flipping through the books, unable to resist the urge to find something interesting. She had to remind herself that it was all useless to her, pure sentimental and academic value, but even the method of preserving alchemical circles was fascinating. What did they use the hides for? Practice? Regular exercise? Were there research experiments in here like what Ruth had done? There were notes and letters in here too, some written in a kind of code, others in Latin. Looking at all of this, Morgan realized she didn’t actually know Agnes Bachman at all. She was the family scapegoat, but she was also just a girl when she left all this stuff behind, too terrified of being the cause of her family’s suffering to stay another year. Poor thing, she didn’t realize that Constance had covered them all. She hadn’t needed to make herself alone on top of everything else. “What did you find? Anything good?” She looked over her shoulder and— “What the fuck, who the hell are you!” She fell back with shock and fumbled for her salt pistol, aiming it at the stranger. Morgan hadn’t even heard her approach. It had to look enough like a normal one to keep the stranger stalking them on her toes, right? “Where’s my friend? What is—Cece! Cece!”

Bored with whatever the liquid was, Cece discarded it back into the pile of unclaimed goodies and moved on to see what else Agnes had to offer. Cece realized that aside from the fact that they had been spellcasters and the curse, she didn’t know all that much about Morgan’s family. Learning a bit about her family through these belongings was more interesting than Cece would be willing to admit without a few drinks. Way too sentimental. She heard Morgan from over her shoulder and didn’t even look back as she began answering, “I don’t know what a lot of it is actually. I’ll need to do some-” she was cut off by her friend’s scream. Morgan was freaking out, tumbling backwards and pulling a fucking gun on her? “What the fuck Morgan? What do you mean who am I? Why do you have a gun pointed at me!” Cece waved her hands wildly, half up in the air in surrender and half accusingly towards Morgan. “Your friend is right here, wondering if she’s about to get capped by a dead girl! You suddenly lose vision or something?”

Morgan scrambled to her feet, still holding out the salt pistol with trembling hands. The woman was middle aged, wild eyed, and a heck of a lot taller than Cece had ever been. She wasn’t sure where she got off trying to pretend they were one and the same. Her angular features had none of Cece’s stubborn charm. They gave the woman a look that was off-kilter even unnerving as she waved her arms around and cried out in her raspy voice. “I am not kidding, whatever magic bullshit you did, some summoning trick, o-or—I don’t know! But you aren’t keeping her!” Morgan shouted I am not losing one more friend to my personal bullshit, you got it? You—” It came on her slowly: the woman’s clothes looked a little like Cece’s but also...not. And she had Cece’s keychain, and there was a bottle at her feet, not quite close right, dripping slowly into the ground. Morgan slowly lowered her pistol, not quite ready to give up the pretense. “If you’re really Cece, then how do we know each other?” She asked.

Something was wrong. Whether that something was with Morgan or with Cece herself was still unclear. Cece stood up, Morgan backing away again but not moving the pistol from it’s target. “Can you point the gun away from me? This isn’t the Wild West.” Though something was clearly off, Cece hadn’t pieced it together yet. For whatever reason, Morgan seemed to think Cece wasn’t who she claimed to be. Was there some illusion? Cece stared at her hands, vaguely aware that something seemed different but realizing that she didn’t look at her hands enough to realize what the difference might be anyways. “How do we know each other? I didn’t know I was signing up for a pop quiz tonight.” Cece laughed, but clearly Morgan wasn’t joking, “Former roomies, forever besties, current hostage.” Cece quipped, “Care to tell me what the hell is going on?”

Morgan lowered the salt pistol, her face melting, touched. “Aw, you consider us besties?” Her face twisted into an expression of cringe. On Cece, that was endearing. On a crazed woman who looked like she was nearing fifty, it was a little...odd. Maybe sad. Morgan tried to find the words to explain to her friend how bewildering this looked from her perspective. Whose face was this? How did Cece change her face and not...know. “Okay, okay…” she started, tucking her pistol away. “Uh, fun fact, the pistol is salt rounds only. I just, you know, couldn’t be too careful. Also: what happened to your face! I said you could take something home, not give yourself a weird makeover!” She fumbled for her phone, still keeping her distance in case this was all a trick and she was just being stupid and gullible. “You did something!” She put the selfie camera on and held it out for Maybe-Cece to see. “A very, very weird something! Are you...mind or body swapped? Are you glamoured into one of my dead relatives? You aren’t really...I mean, look! What would you think if you were me!”

“Of course I do. There’s not many others I’ve broken into a house and been held at gunpoint at!” Despite the awkwardness of currently being held at gunpoint, Cece couldn’t stop the lilt in her voice as she confirmed that the two were basically besties. They had been through quite a bit considering they hadn’t known each other at the beginning of the year. “Well I actually do feel marginally better knowing I would have only gotten blasted with salt. Thank god I’m not a ghost.” Cece laughed, taking steps closer to Morgan following the whole debacle. “I didn’t do anything! Just rooted around in your grandma’s chest and-” Cece stopped talking when Morgan offered her phone camera towards her and Cece got a look at who was showing up on the screen. Except this was very clearly not Cece. “What the fuck?” Cece jumped back, visibly shaken for the first in what felt like a truly long time. “Who the fuck am I? Why the fuck do I look like this?” Cece began rubbing her hands against her arms, chanting a dispelling glamour effect to herself and then looked back at the camera. Nothing. “Why isn’t it going away!?”

Morgan’s face quirked into a smile. She wasn’t as vulnerable or demonstrative with Cece as she knew she could’ve tried to be. Cece was just so breathtakingly together and at ease with whatever chaos came her way, like it was no more than a fly she could spike out of her sphere with a swipe of her hand. However much she accepted the mess Morgan dragged them into, Morgan worried the limit of ‘too much’ was just around the corner. But here they were, standing over a hole in the middle of the woods with a salt pistol and dug up treasures and a haywire spell between them—and still friends. “Ghost, creepy middle aged lady, whatever comes next, I’m still glad we’re friends,” Morgan said.

But, obviously, Cece being her friend as Cece was probably best. “Idea one: this is some weird subconscious thing and you’ve got some stuff about your age or your size to deal with. Idea two: you are wearing the face of one of my dead relatives, or their neighbors, or...something. But either way, there’s a solution! We just don’t know it yet. But we will and you will look...w-well, you don’t look bad, really, when you, uh, think about it, but just more...you.” She winced and came around the side of the hole to offer Cece a hug.

Morgan offered a list of options to Cece, who hated all of them. “Definitely not subconscious. I accepted my height many years ago.” Cece waved the first away but backtracked, “That being said. I get that objectively I’m not that tall still but I do feel like a tall glass or water.” The second option seemed likely. Perhaps it was a type of hex that was put on something she had touched by Morgan’s grandma. If that was the case it was some bullshit hex. “Well either it’s a strong ass hex or some new type of magic I haven’t worked with before.” That frustrated Cece more than the hex itself. She could handle looking like this Milf. What she didn’t like was not knowing how to fix it immediately. Morgan came around for a hug and as their arms wrapped around each other Cece smiled, “You know we’re kind of like the same height now.”

“You do have the energy of a tall woman, I guess it’s just a little closer to being official now,” Morgan said with a smirk. “You’ve got, what, a whole inch on me now?” She raised her hand to touch the top of Cece’s head, fluffing some of the brown hair falling in front of her face. “Stars, if you are wearing one of my ancestors’ faces, does this make you like a temporary cousin? Temporary grandma?” She smirked at the idea. “Sorry. Let’s take everything and hit the books at your place, huh? Do some old fashioned trial and error experimenting. Whatever’s going on, we’ll figure it out.”

Though her head was still spinning at the prospect of looking twice her actual age, Cece tried to compose herself. This had been the most flustered she had allowed herself to be for many, many years. She had no interest in completely losing her cool. Morgan was right, they would fix this. Eventually. Maybe it had a time limit, and Cece would simply wake up in a day or two back to her old, blonde self. In the meantime, how was she supposed to explain this to her roommates? “That’s a good start. Whatever’s going on, I clearly don’t have nearly enough alcohol in my system to deal with it.” Right about now Cece was sure that she had far too much blood in her alcohol system. Depending on how long this lasted, it might be time for a never ending party. “I like to think I just became your cool aunt. I think the moniker suits me.”

[veeeffvee]

In Memory (a Ghost and Pals fanfiction)

Word count: 3019

Summary: [TW: Mentions of occult practices, discussions about death and loss, brief mention of suicide.] After a hard day's work of maintenance, a young groundskeeper encounters a strange man in a cemetery. As the boy strikes up a conversation with the visitor, he quickly finds that this mysterious man only leaves him with more questions than answers.

A/N: And now for something completely different! This story is based off of an ic post I made as Christopher on my rp blog. Enjoy!

People say that I'm superstitious.

And you know what? They're not entirely wrong!

I've always been known as the weird, spooky kid in town. I'm the kid that parents tell their children to stay away from. I'm the kid that's rumored to have a dark past, with creepy hobbies. I'm the kid who, as far as anyone knows, probably does witchcraft or voodoo or something sketchy like that.

But that's not true at all! Sure, I like ghosts and "cursed" objects and scary places, but that's where it stops! I just like scary things! I don't actually think any of it is real! What, are horror fans suddenly equal to occultists now? That's not very fair to say, don't you think??

Although, I'll have to admit, I do believe in ghosts. In fact, I've seen quite a lot of them, and the rituals that I've done to summon them actually do work! Yet despite people's suspicions of me, nobody believes me when I say that!

But you know what? I'm pretty sure that I've seen one just recently, without the help of a ritual! At least… I think I did? I mean, the whole scenario seemed weird when I stopped to think about it afterwards, so… maybe you can give me a second opinion? Maybe? That would be nice, because I'm not actually a hundred percent sure myself.

So yeah, here's the story. Lemme know what you think of this...

It happened right before my shift ended at work, just as dusk rolled around. I work as a groundskeeper at a graveyard, which is, yeah, a weird job for a twelve-year-old kid to have, but it pays pretty well! And besides, I like hanging out at graveyards, so I'm also being paid to be where I like to be! So ha!

But anyway, back to the story: it was right when the sun was about to set when I finished my duties. I had tended the flowers, dusted off a bunch of the graves, and tidied up the mausoleums. A fine day's work, if I do say so myself! I had started during the late afternoon and finished right before nighttime, because people usually visit during the day. Doing things that way leaves me more room to work, you know?

And so there I was, carrying my trusty shovel back to my tool shack, when suddenly, for whatever reason, I spotted a visitor entering through the cemetery gates! And I think, Huh, visiting hours are almost over. Why would someone come here so late?

Still in thought, I decided to stand there and see where they were going. I'm not creepy, I swear! It's just that sometimes people come for a tour of the graveyard, and that just so happens to be my second job. Plus, it would be awful if they got lost in the cemetery, right? I could lose my job because of that. And also, I couldn't have something like that on my conscience; I'm only twelve!

Since I was standing still, they didn't notice me as they walked past, but I got a good look at them. Whoever this stranger was, they dressed really formally. Like, with a bow tie and everything. From what I've seen, people don't usually visit while wearing super fancy clothes unless the death was recent, so at that moment, I kinda felt bad for them.

That is, until I noticed their hair? And skin?? I'm not kidding when I say this: they were pure white! Like, paper white! I've seen pale people before, but this wasn't albinism, this was something else! I guessed then that maybe it wasn't real hair, and they were just wearing makeup. But the question was why?! With those formal clothes and in a cemetery of all places, who makes the decision to look like that?

So, super interested in this person now, I began to follow them. I made sure to be extra quiet as I trailed behind them, ducking behind graves and bushes whenever I needed to. Easier said than done while carrying a shovel, but I think I managed. They didn't turn around a single time! Haha!

A few minutes passed, and eventually they stopped at a particular grave. It was at the end of one of the many rows of graves, in fact. I peered over the tombstone I was hiding behind in order to see what the visitor was doing.

To my surprise, they were just… standing there. Staring. At the grave.

They didn't break down, cry, or even bow their head in sorrow. That's what I'm used to seeing. That's the normal reaction to visiting a grave of someone you knew. Sadness, despair—heck, even frustration would have made sense. But no, there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. They didn’t even say a word.

Another while passed, and they were still standing there. I started to wonder if maybe they were praying quietly or something, but their hands weren't clasped together. So that possibility was ruled out. Maybe they were just lost in thought? That would make sense. But if someone's lost in thought for this long, then it's a little worrying. And so I started to get worried.

After another moment of hesitation, I stepped out from behind the tombstone and tried to casually make it back to the path, acting as if I were walking on it this whole time. I called out, "Uh, excuse me?"

The stranger jolted, startled out of their thoughts. They turned to face me, and I saw that they were holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand. "Yes?" they answered.

(I also noticed that their voice was rather masculine, so from now on, I'll be referring to the visitor as a he. Don't ask why, I just have a feeling. And besides, the end of this story kinda gave me a hint, so…)

I realized then that I didn't exactly have anything to say. Nothing that would lead into a normal conversation, anyway. So I decided to switch into Work Mode, pointing to the setting sun behind me with my thumb. "Sorry, but it's getting late, sir. Visiting hours are almost over."

For a second, the visitor looked annoyed. Then, after putting on a more neutral expression, he sighed. "Right, well… I'll be just a moment. Please give me a few minutes, at least," he replied. His voice sounded tired.

"Yeah, sure," I said, because saying anything else would be super rude and messed up.

He looked back towards the grave after that, falling silent once more. Feeling curious (and slightly more brave, now that I'd revealed myself), I approached the stranger. He didn't look at me as I came closer, and I took the opportunity to subtly glance over at the name engraved onto the tombstone.

And my eyes widen.

Because I know about this one.

I mean listen, it's not my business to pry or anything, but if you've worked in a graveyard for as long as I have, and you see a few tombstones here and there everyday with titles in-between the dead people's names, you'd want to know where they got them! And so you ask questions to a bunch of locals! And hear some really cool stories!

So yeah, I'm surprised to find out that this guy might be related to a story character, and I'm really excited. But I still had to be respectful, so barely containing my excitement, I calmly asked, "Were you related to him?"

The stranger almost smiled at my question. But for some reason, he stopped himself, keeping his expression guarded. "In a sense, yes," he said, his tone even.

That answer only made it more difficult to curb my enthusiasm. I was so happy that I was practically hugging my shovel at this point. "Really? Then do you know about the story?" I continued eagerly.

He gave me a confused look. "Story? What story?"

My excitement faltered. "You don't know?"

"No. What exactly have you heard?"

And then it picked back up. "Oh, well, first off, this story's pretty old. So—”

That’s when I told him the dead guy’s story. A story about a man with the ability to change his appearance with the help of a mirror. A story about a man whose beautiful appearance did not match his personality; a man who was manipulative and hurtful towards everyone around him. And in the end, the mirrors turned him into a monster, revealing to the world what he truly was inside.

As I spoke, I studied the visitor for his reactions. But to my surprise, he barely reacted at all! His expression was totally unreadable as he listened to me. Just… completely blank. I wasn't sure what to think of it. Once I had finished telling the story, there was a moment of silence. The whole time, I continued to stare at the stranger, but he didn't notice. He seemed lost in thought once more, probably processing the story in his head.

Then he said, "That's completely wrong."

I jumped in surprise. "What?! Really??"

"Yes. The story is full of errors."

"It is?" I asked. Then I thought about it for a moment. Not only did I leave out some parts, but who knows a story better than someone who apparently knew a character from it? I felt sheepish. "Well… I guess I did forget some things. What parts did I get wrong?"

The man averted his gaze, waving his hand dismissively. "It would take too long to list them all. Just tell whoever you heard the story from that they're wrong. It would save us both the trouble if you did just that."

That's a lot of sources. And therefore, a lot of talking and correcting that I had to do. And not only that, but I would need to find these people all over again?? I slumped in defeat, thinking of all of the work ahead of me. "Aw man."

He quirked a brow at my reaction. And then he chuckled. “Well, if it’s that many people, I suppose you don’t have to tell everyone. At least a few, then; that should be enough. I would appreciate it if they were corrected as soon as possible, that’s all. The story is very… personal to me, you see.”

I thought about that for a minute. Then I hummed in acknowledgement. I wanted to ask more questions, but it seemed that whoever this was, he wasn’t willing to tell me more about the real version of the story. Which was strange, because he seemed very adamant about correcting the errors in my version, but whatever. I decided not to push it. You can only say so much in a conversation with a complete stranger, after all.

...Hmm, I thought.

Turning the shovel around in my hands, I dug it into the dirt below, straightening it up before allowing it to stand by itself. It was tiring me out, carrying that. The shovel came up to about shoulder height compared to me, which was pretty convenient whenever I wanted to lean on it. And lean on it I did, resting my chin on my hands atop the base of the tool.

"Right, personal…" I said breezily. Smiling, I tipped my head to the side. "That's why you know so much about it, right?"

The man frowned. "Yes. Do you doubt me?"

I laughed, shaking my head. "Nah, I believe you. Only someone who knew the guy personally somehow would visit his grave. Although, it's a little weird, now that I think about it…" I trailed off.

He narrowed his eyes skeptically. "How so?"

"Well, like I said, the guy was basically evil. That's one thing that all of the stories had in common. Another was that he had a connection to mirrors and appearances. But you are right about some versions having inconsistencies."

That seemed to interest him. "Oh?"

I grinned, happy that I could keep him on this topic, despite his reluctance to talk about it. "Yeah, the endings were different every time. Some say that he turned into a monster in the end. Others say he killed himself. One ending says that he isolated himself in his house forever. And then there's this rumor going around that he haunts a local mansion."

I blew a raspberry, rolling my eyes. "But if you ask me? My guess is that he was either killed by someone else, or he actually did kill himself. Those just make the most sense, all things considered."

The visitor gaped at me, utterly bewildered at my words. The look on his face almost made me laugh again. "I'm sorry, how old are you?" he demanded.

"Twelve."

"Twelve?" he echoed, incredulous. "And you're saying things like this? What are you even doing in a cemetery?"

I stared pointedly down at my shovel. "I work here. I'm the groundskeeper."

That seemed to make him even more confused. I wonder what confused him more: my morbid comments, or the fact that I have a job at my age. I guess at the moment, I kinda forgot what is and isn't proper to say in conversations. Whoops! But anyway, because of me, the man struggled for a moment to find his words.

I decided to spare him the effort, since that was mostly my fault. Closing my eyes, I continued, "Well, whatever the ending, I'm glad he was stopped early on with what he was doing. I'm pretty sure that all of the stories mention that he died young, which is kinda good, as awful as that sounds. That means that he can't hurt anyone anymore."

"...I doubt that."

I opened my eyes, finding that the visitor had turned back toward the grave. He had an odd expression on his face this time. It might have been a trick of the light, but I could have sworn that he was smirking.

I tentatively asked, "What do you mean?"

"Well," he began, eerily casual, "people can still have an effect on others even after death. Lasting effects. Damaging effects. Wouldn't you agree?"

I paused to let that sink in. That… did make sense, I eventually reasoned. "I guess so," I answered slowly. Uneasily. "People get hurt by grief all the time, especially right after someone dies."

I was sure that my answer was correct, but the man shook his head, his smirk easing into a smile. "No, I didn't mean like that."

I furrowed my brow, confused by his attitude. "Then could you explain, please?"

He chuckled again, lowering his gaze. He was silent for a moment. His hand tightened around the bouquet, and a strange, dark look suddenly appeared on his face. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. "Whenever someone dies, some say that traces of the dead still linger. Like a ghost. Watching. Waiting. And with their presence, they influence the life around them; the life that they no longer have, little by little. And they never truly leave."

I blinked a couple of times, eyebrows raised. I honestly didn't expect him to say something meaningful like that. And he was kinda right, if you think about it. I've never lost anyone close to me, but I've seen the effect that death can have on other people over time. I knew that lots of folks can spend weeks grieving over those they've lost. And sure, people eventually move on, but many choose to return to their grief, either out of kindness or obligation. I mean, why else do people visit cemeteries?

Then I began to think: why would this man visit the grave of someone like him? What connection did he have to him? Was he a distant relative? A friend of a friend? A more invested fan of the story? If so, then how can his death affect him that badly? Just... why?

These were all questions that I knew I couldn't exactly ask.

A while passed. I realized way too late that I was supposed to say something in response. I stuttered for a bit, uselessly trying and failing to say anything significant. However, before I could come up with anything, the stranger cut me off, pleasantly saying with another smile:

"But I'm not superstitious. So what do I know?"

And with that, he finally set the bouquet down on the grave. I noted the choice of flowers: purple hyacinths and orange orchids. (I need to remember to look up the meanings of those later.) The man then turned to leave, walking past me once again on the pathway.

I watched him walk a little ways away from me, and I frowned. Didn't even bother to say goodbye. Geez.

Standing upright, I looked towards the grave. Then towards the flowers. Then to the grave again. And then quickly back at the visitor.

I called out, "Wait!"

He stopped, sparing an uninterested glance toward me. "Yes?"

The man must have seen my conflicted expression as soon as he turned around, because he smiled once more, looking amused out of all things. I gritted my teeth. What was with this guy? He knew what he was doing, didn’t he? With the way he spoke during our conversation… those hints weren’t coincidental; they were dropped on purpose, weren’t they?

Oh, that was so annoying to think about. He probably thought he was clever, making me as puzzled as I was at that moment. I had to get straight answers, but judging by how he was unwilling to discuss the story in detail, it was unlikely that I was going to get any. But at the very least, I absolutely needed to clear up one suspicion that I’ve had since the start of all this.

And so I cautiously asked, "Why… why would you leave flowers for such a terrible person?"

A pause. He appeared to consider this, and we stared at each other as he mulled it over. Then he faced forward again, continuing on his walk. As he did, he said something that surprised me; something that still bugs me to this day:

"I just thought he'd like them."

[imaginedisish]

Fakin’ It (Five Hargreeves x Reader) (The Umbrella Academy)

A/N: SORRY FOR THE DELAY...nothing else was posted, and this got posted so late only because this imagine may or may not be like...3,000+ words..... oops. Anyway, y’all asked for fluff, here it is. Also, this is somewhat based on the Simon and Garfunkel song, Fakin’ It. Okay, it’s 1:57am, I have to be up at 6...goodnight everyone :) and enjoy :) (also, I say this in the story, but you and Five are around 18/19 in this fic)

Summary: You and Five have obvious chemistry, but you’re both oblivious to the fact that you’re in love with each other. It takes a life threatening fight with The Handler and The Commission to make Five realize he needs to tell you how he really feels.

Warnings: Language, angst, killing, guns, killing with guns???, FLUFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF!

Word Count: 3,678 TOO LONG AH. but too bad bc i was inspired asf.

A warm breeze swirls around you, capturing you in the tight embrace of the sweet summer air. Birds sing happily throughout the courtyard, gossiping to each other as they carefully watch your chess game. Maybe they were pondering your next move, or maybe they had recognized the obvious feelings you had for the midnight-brown haired boy sitting in front of you, and felt the need to chirp loudly on and on about it. 

His eyes catch each individual ray of light that extended itself down to the courtyard, the rays transforming into sparkles, glimmering in his ocean eyes. You knew there was no chance of winning this game, you were far too distracted by the way Five casually basked in the sun. 

You move your king up a spot, hoping for a chance to possibly take the game once and for all. To your dismay, a smirk slowly but surely spreads across Five’s face. He stares down at the board picks up his black queen from her spot. Your eyes widen. You saw his perfect move. It was like witchcraft. 

“Check mate,” Five says, his queen knocking over your final king, his piercing blue eyes peering up into yours. “Should’ve kept that king in the back row there,” He states matter of factly, pointing to your now fallen king. Five’s smirk widens as he crosses his right ankle over his left knee, his arms folding nonchalantly against his chest. 

Diego or Luther would have reacted by throwing the board across the room in a fit of anger. Allison would have scoffed, secretly upset by her brother’s win. Klaus would’ve won by default, simply through the method of pestering Five with far too many questions, driving Five to the brink of insanity. But you? You weren’t bothered by the loss at all. You didn’t care what you were doing with Five, as long as you got to spend time with him. 

He could beat you at chess every day for the rest of your life, and it wouldn’t matter to you, all because it was him, and only him that you were sitting here with.

“Maybe I let you win,” you joke, shooting a smile in Five’s direction. For the record, you most definitely did not let him win. Chess was in no way, shape or form your strong suit. Five on the other hand, was a master. 

Five giggles a bit, his smirk turning into a wide smile, highlighting the dimples in his cheeks. “Oh really now?” He questions, arching his eyebrows as he leans back in the black, wrought iron garden chair he was sitting in. “I beg to differ.”

Then, Five pushes himself out of his chair, and with an abrupt flash of bright blue light, he had disappeared. You felt your heart involuntarily sink to the bottom of your chest. Where did he go? Why did he leave? You think to yourself, a small frown making its way across your face.

“Surprise!” You hear a voice shout from behind you as two hands grab onto your shoulders forcefully. You let out a screech, freaked out by the unexpected “surprise”. You instantly whip your head around. 

There was Five, laughing so hard he was doubled over, his hands on his knees, his bangs bouncing against his forehead. His laughter only grew by the second, changing into what sounded like a hyaena cackling. You try your very best to suppress the smile that was slowly stretching across your face, not wanting Five to know you’re entertained by his hijinks. 

“You scared the shit out of me!” You try to shout, but it comes out as more of a heavy laugh. You jokingly punch Five in the shoulder.

He pretends to wince, and grabs at the “wounded” area in response. “I didn’t know you were so violent, (Y/N),” Five says, his jaw dropping as he acts as though he’s in pain. “I guess I’ll just have to get my revenge!” Five leaps towards you, picking you up, lifting you high enough that your stomach is pressing against his shoulder, and your upper body drapes against his back. 

“Put me down!” You laugh loudly, lightly drumming your fists rhythmically against Five’s back. 

“No way,” He chuckles, walking around the courtyard now. “This is payback.” You didn’t have to see his face to know he was smiling widely, his eyebrows arched up, his ego shining through his blue eyes. 

“Well, what’s going on here?” A new voice chimes in from the opposite side of the courtyard. Five quickly turns around, and within seconds you’re put back down on the ground. You turn around as well, to see the face of the familiar voice. 

Merely feet away stood Klaus, decked out in a flowy, navy blue skirt that you instantly recognized was your own. Klaus, however, some how pulled it off way better than you ever could have. 

“Nothing, nothing at all,” Five says, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he lifts his chin up a bit, almost to assert dominance over his brother. The word nothing repeats in your head over and over again. The moment you and Five had just shared did not feel like nothing to you. It felt like a million butterflies flying around in your stomach. It felt like your heart had made a new home in your throat. The feeling was intense, and it hurt a bit to hear Five call what he felt in that moment, “nothing.” 

Klaus looks to you, his black-lined eyes searching yours for some sort of explanation as to what was happening, but you give none. You look to Five, who’s eyes are menacingly fixed on Klaus, and then down to the ground. 

You hear Klaus hum a bit, almost as if he’s studying the situation in his head, taking mental notes as he stares at you and Five. “Well,” Klaus says finally, “I’d like to talk to (Y/N),” Klaus pauses a second, “Alone, brother, if you wouldn’t mind.” Klaus finishes, holding up his right hand in a fist. He opens up his palm towards Five, revealing his message: “Goodbye”. 

Five scoffs. “Fine then,” He rolls his eyes to Klaus before turning to you. “I’ll be in the library when you’re done talking to the ouija board, okay?” You nod, and Five smiles. He turns around and starts to walk away. 

“I find that extremely offensive, dear brother. Especially after all I’ve done for you. World peace? Snow Globe? Remember?” Klaus shouts sarcastically at Five. 

Five doesn’t bother to turn around. Instead, he simply flips Klaus off, and slips through one of the French doors that lead back into the Academy. You can’t help but let out a small giggle at Five’s response. 

“Alright, enough of the secret chess games! Tell me what’s going on between you and the resident asswipe!” Klaus sings, a wide, toothy smile spreading across his face. You shake your head in reply. 

“There’s nothing going on, Klaus,” You sigh, walking back over to where you and Five had been playing your game. You pull out the garden chair you had been sitting on from under the table, and plop yourself down. “I thought…maybe…” You trail off, looking down at the chess board. “No, never mind. There is no maybe. It’s a no, the biggest no on the planet.”

Klaus pulls out the chair across from you, and sits down. “I really don’t think that’s the case here, (Y/N),” Klaus says, shaking his head in disagreement. “Five doesn’t act like that with just anyone. I’ve known him for years, and I can tell you’re special to him. You’ve been special to him from the very minute we all met you.” 

You smile a bit, thinking back to the day when you met the Hargreeves. It was a crisp fall day, and you sat in a booth at your favorite diner. Five, Klaus and Diego walked in, and Five had immediately caught your eye. There was just something so special about him. 

However, things seemingly took a turn for the worse when the Commission appeared at the diner. What the room didn’t know was that you were a super, just like the Hargreeves were. You stood atop the counter you had been eating at, and began to lift certain pieces of furniture in the room with your mind. The Commission stood shocked, shaking in their boots, especially since you were able to disarm them as they stood in awe of your power. 

You and the three Hargreeves brothers destroyed the Commission members with your powers, and the few who survived fled for their lives. 

One thing confused the boys, however. It was the fact that you were 18, just like Five. You explained to them that you weren’t one of the 43 births, you were one of a kind. With this, your friendship with the Hargreeves family quickly grew. They took you in, helping you learn to control your abilities. You learned about them as well, and how Five and his family saved the world from the apocalypse. 

Five told you everything about him within the first few days of your meeting. After traveling back to the present following saving the world, his body aged an extra five years, turning him from 13 to 18. Of course, he was really much older on the inside, but that didn’t bother you. You two became extremely close, running off from time to time to be alone with each other, just to vent and talk about things.

But god, had you come to love that boy. Those eyes, his sarcasm, his wit, his-

“Hello? Earth to (Y/N)!” Klaus calls out, waving his left palm in your face, and you’re forced to come back to reality. “What the hell was that?” He laughs. 

“Sorry, I got lost in thought,” You say softly, smiling in Klaus’s direction. “But I just don’t know about this, Klaus. Five hasn’t ever told me that he has feelings for-,”

Klaus cuts you off. “Five doesn’t talk about feelings. ‘Feelings’, is not a word in the Five Hargreeves dictionary. You have to talk to the dumb kid yourself.” Klaus leans back in his chair, resting his hands on the back of his head. 

“I really rather not get my heart broken, Klaus,” You say, hiding the pain you had already been feeling with a small laugh. 

Klaus sighs, contemplating his next words. “Well, at the end of the day it’s your choice, but telling him how you feel would definitely be the best one,” Klaus says, pushing out his chair and standing up. He steps a bit closer to you, extending his right hand to your left shoulder. “Trust me, I think you’d be surprised with his response. Think it over, okay? Ben just said he agrees with me. Ben, of all people, wants you to do this, so it must really be destiny.” 

You nod, “Fine, I’ll think it over.” Klaus smiles, nodding right back to you. He walks towards one of the sets of French doors, and steps back inside the Academy. 

You look down at the chess game, studying the pieces carefully. 

“Playing by yourself there?” You hear a familiar woman’s voice question from behind you. You knew that voice far too well, and you were terrified to turn around and see her face. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” You ask harshly, refusing to greet the woman properly. However, unfortunately for you, she intrudes your space, sitting down in the garden chair Five, and then Klaus had once sat in. 

“That’s no way to talk to The Handler, darling,” She coos, patting the top of your head lightly. You finally look up at her, her grey hair presiding atop her head in a clean bun. A devious smile stretches across her face, warning all those who see her, that she is most certainly up to no good. 

“I asked you a fucking question.” Your voice is shaky and filled with anger now, since you had begun to put things together. She was most likely here to go after Five for altering the timeline. He must’ve messed with it one too many times. You push yourself out of your chair, jumping back a bit. “Why are you here? Answer me!” You command. 

The Handler laughs. “I will say, (Y/N), your instincts are quite good. I noticed that the minute I met you. When was that? A year ago I believe. The diner, don’t you remember?” She continues the conversation as if there’s no gun in her hand, no real reason to visit the Hargreeves household.

“Get on with it,” You say angrily. 

“Well, Five needs to be punished for his…” she trails off, tapping her index finger against her chin as she searches for the right words. “well to be quite honest, for his insanely dangerous and terrible offenses against The Commission, and the universe.” 

You step towards her, making fists with your hands. “I swear, if you lay one finger on him, I’m taking you down.” Your voice is menacing and filled with intent. 

“Wait, you really think…oh my goodness you’re an absolute riot!” The Handler shouts as she begins to cackle. “Oh dear, we aren’t going to physically hurt Number Five, we’re going to scar him emotionally,” She pauses, extending her hand to your forearm, “by killing you.” 

Your jaw drops, and you pull away from The Handler’s touch. You sprint towards the nearest set of French doors, and you make your way inside the mansion. 

“Five!” You scream, running as fast as you can down the hallway and into the library. 

“No need to scream, I’m right here,” Five says, putting down the book he was reading, and standing up from the couch. He studies your face, easily reading the fear in your eyes. He then notices that you’re trembling. “Is everything okay? What happened?” Five questions, rushing over to you, grabbing your hands in his. 

“Th-the H-Handler is outside, F-Five,” You stutter, struggling to get your words out. “A-and she says she’s g-going t-to k-kill me.” Five immediately lets go of your hands, and begins to rush towards the door. 

Suddenly, two gunmen approach the door from the outside, blocking Five from leaving the mansion. You hear the sound high heels clicking echo through the library.

“Hello there, Five, long time no see!” The Handler exclaims. Five rolls his eyes. 

“You aren’t going to hurt her, I won’t let it happen,” Five says, taking a step towards the Handler as he points back to you. 

“Oh trust me, Five, I know. That’s why I’ve brought hired help with me,” She says, snapping her fingers. “Oh boys, come on out!” The Handler calls, and suddenly the room is filled with The Commission’s worst level of gunmen. 

Before you could even comprehend the situation, Five grabs your hand, sprinting as he pulls you across the library. 

“Open fire! But spare the boy! His punishment is going to be much worse than the girls!” The Handler screams, the fake sweetness in her voice replaced with something evil, something malignant. 

Gun shots echo off the walls of the Academy as Five swings open a door, revealing a walk in closet filled with coats. He pushes you inside, and follows after you, softly closing the door shut. 

“What the hell are we going to do?” You ask, your eyes searching Five’s for some sort of solution. He rubs his face anxiously, pacing frantically around the small space. 

Then, he stops in his tracks, and turns towards you. “I don’t know, but I know that I am not going to let them do anything to you. I wouldn’t be able to survive without you.” Five takes a step towards you. He looks down at the ground, and back up towards you. “There are so many things I need to say, but I just don’t know how to tell you, or how much time we have…” Five trails off, his eyes becoming glossy. 

“W-what are you talking about?” You ask, confused as to what Five means. 

He takes your hands in his. “If we don’t make it out of this, or if I don’t make it out of this, I need you to know h-how m-much you mean to me,” Five says, swallowing harshly. “You’re just, so special, so witty, so beautiful.” 

Your heart beats out of your chest. 

Five takes a deep breath, “Fuck, I hate this shit…feelings…” He trails off nervously. “Goddammit, I’m in love with you, (Y/N). I have been for a while. I-I just needed you to know that, if I, well if I die, and I just-,” 

You cut Five as your lips come crashing down on his. The kiss is slow and soft, and you silently wished to yourself, as you smile against Five’s lips, that it never had to end. Yet, you knew what had to be done. You knew it was you who had to take a stand against the gunmen, and not Five. You pull yourself away from Five, feeling empty now that you two have parted. 

“I love you, Five,” You say, tears filling your eyes. You take a few steps backwards, reaching for the doorknob. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to say that. I’m sorry if I don’t come back. Just know how much you mean to me,” You choke, opening the door knob and running out of the room, and back towards the library. 

“NO!” Five screams, sprinting behind you, trying his best to catch up. But, it’s no use as you find your way into the library, surrounded by the gunmen.

All at once, the gunmen take their aim. You shut your eyes, and lift your hands to the side as the sound of a million guns firing rings out throughout the Academy. You exert all of the force and energy you have inside of you out towards the bullets flying through the air. 

You hear an intense ringing in your ears, and immense pain in your head. It felt like the walls were closing in, like everything was coming crashing down around you. You scream in agony, not sure what it was that you were feeling. 

And then, almost instantly, things go back to normal.

After a few seconds of feeling absolutely nothing, you open your eyes. Around you, suspended in air, were the bullets shut by the gunmen, each bullet flipped around to be aimed towards each shooter. You managed to pull their guns from their hands as well. 

More importantly, to your surprise, time had stopped, and everything had froze. 

That’s new, You think to yourself. 

You begin to tremble in place, sweat dripping down your forehead as you start to struggle to control your powers. You recognize you have no choice but to let go of the bullets. It was either kill, or be killed. 

Instinctively, you release your control, and the bullets go flying back to the gunmen, and time starts up again. The gunmen fall to the ground. 

You did it. Fucking hell, I actually did it. 

And then, you feel yourself becoming woozy, your knees growing weak. You feel yourself starting to collapse from all the energy you had used.

Suddenly, your eyes shut, and the world goes black. 

“(Y/N)? Wake up! Come on, stay with me! I can’t lose you, please wake up!” You hear Five shout, his voice extremely muffled. Everything around you feels like it’s spinning. You needed to open your eyes, you needed to see that everything was fine.

“Five, take a step back. She needs some air,” Klaus interjects, and Five presumably stays exactly where he is. 

Your eyes slowly begin to open again. Five was hovering over you, his fingers gently combing through your hair. “Is everything okay?” You ask, pushing yourself up onto your elbows. 

“Well,” Five pauses, smiling a bit as he looks around the room. “I suppose things are okay now,” He says calmly, helping you to sit up further. You let out a small laugh. 

“Alright,” You say, trying to stand up. You stumble a bit, practically falling over completely, but Five is there to catch you. He brings you over to the couch, and helps you sit down. 

“Do you remember what happened?” Five asks, shyly reaching for your hands. “How exactly did you do…well…all this?” 

“I’m not sure,” You say honestly, looking deeply into Five’s eyes. “But I do remember what you said in the closet, before I did all this.” You smile widely. 

“I meant what I said, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I’ve been faking it, you know? Trying to suppress my feelings, hiding them from you, but it was useless,” Five explains. He takes a deep breath. “This sounds disgustingly cliche, and I hate that, but I really am in love with you, (Y/N).”

Just like before, Five’s words felt like a million butterflies flying around your stomach. They felt like your heart had travelled all the way to your throat. The feeling was intense, but this time it didn’t hurt. There was no pain. There was no more “faking it” as Five had put it. 

“Thank god! Finally! I’ve known this entire time. You two are so amazingly obviously to your surroundings!” Klaus excitedly exclaims, popping up from behind the couch. 

“Shut it, dickhead!” Five yells. You can’t help but let out a laugh. 

You inch your face closer to Five’s, and you surprise him as your lips come in contact with his, distracting him from Klaus’s intrusion. You feel Five smile against your lips, which makes your heart melt.

No more faking it, You think to yourself. No more danger. 

You pull apart from the dark haired, blue eyed boy in front of you. 

“And I’m in love with you, Five,” You say softly. He grins widely, and leans in to kiss you again. 

[cozycornerwritings]

witchy mc

Yoosung: ~You two were out shopping in a cute little mall village thingy ~ you see a store called Potions and Puppies ~ "ahhh! Yoosung we have to go in there!" ~ he thought it was because of the puppies ~ innocent boy ~you two go in and he looks around ~ he's a little freaked to be honest ~ but puppy calms down when he sees little puppies running around the shop with little witch hats on ~ you go and looks at stones for a bottle spell while he isn't paying attention ~ "oh Mc, I didn't know you had a rock collection" ~ "no yoosung this is for a bottle spell" ~ "oh alright.. WAIT WHAT?!" ~ he gets spooked ~ super submissive and stuttering ~ until he starts asking questions and his curiosity takes over ~ he'll buy your supplies for you after you explain what they are for and what the spell is ~ sometimes will ask for a spell when he has a difficult patient at the clinic

Zen: • it was raining hard one after noon • so why not have a movie night?? • you two were watching a romance flick • he was behind you on the couch • you tried to focus on the movie •BUT • when you feel his lips graze your neck • say goodbye to watching the rest • he moved his head down to kiss different spots, sucking lightly on a few • he moves your hair but when he does, he notices you have a new necklace???? • "hey Mc where did you get this?" • you turn to him and pull the charm out of your shirt. • "I made it, the symbol was really hard to do, but I did it~" • "how did you learn about that?" • "a witch craft book!" • he takes a moment to process • he wonders if you're trying to get role play started or something • " I practice witch craft." • "is this role play?" • Zenny doesn't understand till you in depth explain it • he thinks it's cute • you have used his hair, especially for protection spells

Jahee: - "Jahee can we plant a garden?" - sure Mc, Poor girl so so focus on preparing coffee that she was sort of dazed - doesn't really pick up on it for a while - "Jahee, do you have any salt crystals?" - "jahee, do you know where i put my spell journal?" - at this point you have her attention - "wait mc, you do spells?" - she doesn't really believe in that sort of thing but if it makes you happy - she buys you the most aesthetic witch things - also burns your protection and happiness candles in the shop - lets you have your space while you make spells - you'll give her charms and things to wear - also you make the best tea - she loves her witchy girl friend

Jumin: <He is a Christian so this will be a little awkward to explain < He doesn't believe in goddess, except the one standing in front of him of course -3o < You bring it up casually < "So are you gonna bring my stuff over from the apartment?" < "what do you need me to grab my love?" < "my spell book." < aaaand it's time to talk < like I said, he doesn't believe in it < BUT IF IT MAKES YOU HAPPY HE'LL BUY YOU EVERYTHING < gives you a great room to practice your arts < let's you have part of the garden to plant what you need < but how are you gonna raise Elizabeth the 3rd?? < he'll let you put protective spells on her < also spells that bind her to the house < he's all about supporting you < "dang I broke my sage stick" < 10 more show up randomly later in the day

707: > you do spells while he's working so he doesn't really notice > you didn't do them in rika's apartment so he never saw you doing what you love > but he realized when you got to a family reunion > "my family is a bit different" > "Lolol relax mc, I'll love them and they'll love me" > poor catholic boy > because practicing witch craft runs through the family > he steps inside your moms house > BOOM INCENSE >he thinks maybe it's just a normal thing > but when he sees crystals and a cat skull > 707 error > wonders if he should be wearing his cross?? > that's his faith though, so he's not gonna take it off > once your family gets to talking to him, he relaxes a bit > "mc, i didn't know you did witchcraft." > "really? I do it a lot, maybe you just haven't noticed ." > death glare from your mom, help him > after you two go home you tell him about it > sometimes while you do spells, he'll cross dress into a witch outfit and make up random spells and chants