#it’s incredibly fucking harmful to wildlife

[enbycrip]

Started sticking a doggie waste bag on my rollator and bringing the grabber stick with me when walking Cynthie, because there’s just so much rubbish about and apparently the local association would rather pay for ridiculously over-frequent petrol mowing than litter pickup or more bins.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for reporting my shitty college roommate to the FWS and her teacher, and possibly getting her suspended/expelled/jailed/fined?

CW for brief dead animal mention

For context: I live in the USA and all native species of birds are protected under the Migratory Bird Treaty Act, which makes it illegal to kill, harm, etc. native bird species and/or possess parts of them including molted feathers, bones, nests, etc.

Also: The FWS is the Fish and Wildlife Service and is a government agency that deals with animal and plant conservation and habitat protection.

Anyways, I (F25) live in a dorm room with two other people, Ally (F26) and Sammy (F28) (not their real names obviously). Sammy is a nice roommate, she's very considerate and kind, and we get along really well.

Ally, on the other hand, is a nightmare.

Very self absorbed, rich parents, "white witch" privileged white girl type, treats Sammy and I like maids instead of roommates.

Ally and I are both art students, I'm pursuing 3D animation and she's doing... Something. I have no idea. Sculpting?

I do digital modeling and animation so I can just do that in my room on my PC, but she needs a specific area to do her sculptures, which is fine!

Except that she does NOT clean up after herself. Leaves material all over the place, there's bits of clay stuck to fucking everything, and she does it right in the living room.

She's also burnt sage INSIDE THE APARTMENT despite Sammy having asthma. She did not warn us beforehand, we found out when we walked in and Sammy started coughing and wheezing and we had to go back outside. She was 100% aware of Sammy's asthma because she saw her use her inhaler once and asked about it.

She then asked if she "could try it" which... Girl what. "Can I try it?" Has now become an inside joke between Sammy and I about her inhaler.

Coming from a rich family, I can tell she's never faced any consequences for her actions. Ever. She thinks she's untouchable and that mommy and daddy will pay for everything and make all her problems go away.

Sammy and I come from families who are not ungodly rich, and that's resulted in her treating us like live-in maids. She does none of the chores, none of the housework, absolutely nothing. Constantly inviting her friends over to peruse her "art gallery". Regularly keeps Sammy and I up at night with her music and friends.

We rent an apartment near our college, and we don't live in the dorms so we don't have anyone to complain to besides our landlord, who's an incredibly sweet elderly woman that we're all hesitant about bothering.

Except for Ally, who's prepared to bother her about everything, including but not limited to: Apartment being too hot. Apartment being too cold. A weird smell. Noise from the street. Neighbors dog barking. Front door being creaky.

We basically went "Haha hey Ally don't worry you're SO busy lol we'll talk to her for you okay!" just so she doesn't bother the poor lady.

We're mostly just afraid that if we kick out Ally, her parents will tear that woman apart. Sammy and I are both unconfrontational anyways and don't want to bother anyone.

Ally is working on her latest sculpture for finals (basically the big report due at the end of a semester). It actually looked pretty cool, but something about it was... Off.

Oh yeah, it's absolutely covered in native bird feathers and a nest. A real one, not one of those fake ones you can buy at a craft store.

She came home one day after going out with her friends for HOURS, and she had two big bags full of stuff. I asked what she was up to and her response was sort of "It's a secret teehee, it's for my art piece ;)" so I was just like haha okay.

So, it turns out her and her friends went out into the woods and spent HOURS picking up molted feathers (all of them are very witchy do-no-harm types so there's no way any of them killed live birds. Ally refuses to even kill bugs, I have to catch them and let them out). She also mentioned her friends parents have tons of bird feeders at their house, which means LOTS of molted feathers.

Also, instead of cleaning them in her bathroom sink she washed them off in the kitchen sink, meaning we couldn't do dishes for a few hours. So that was cool.

I actually collect and clean animal bones in my free time, so I'm very familiar with the laws. I know which species in my state are protected, which species I can possess with a permit, etc. I also know that the MBTA is a thing that exists.

I've met her art teacher before, and I know that the woman's not stupid. She will DEFINITELY notice that the sculpture is covered in blue jay, cardinal, grackle, etc. feathers.

I was going to keep my mouth shut and just let Ally dig her own grave, but I did mention it to her through text. I said "Hey, I love your sculpture but I just wanna let you know that using those feathers is actually illegal, since they're from native species of birds. My parents own chickens and ducks and I can get you a lot of really cool feathers for your project if you want! Sorry for the bad news but I just don't want you to get in trouble :("

She messaged back and said "Um, thanks but I don't want feathers from gross barnyard animals, Mother Gaia gifted me these beautiful feathers. Besides, I actually have money to take care of my problems."

What the fuck.

I didn't know what else to do besides message back "Oh! Okay!"

Those "gross barnyard animals" she mentioned include breeds like dominiques, copper marans, both gold and silver sebrights, Yokohama, and a few cayuga ducks, all of which have absolutely gorgeous feathers. I was also going to surprise her with some peafowl feathers because my parents' friend owns them.

So here's where the AITA part comes in.

I was furious with her constant classism, treating Sammy and I like shit, and blatantly disregarding laws (especially ones literally put in place to protect "Mother Gaia's" creatures) just because her parents have money.

So after she went to bed I went out into the living room, took pictures of her sculpture, and then not only sent the pictures to her art teacher but the FWS. I let the game warden know I also emailed her teacher and vice versa. I also sent screenshots of our conversation where I told her about the law, so they had proof she was 100% aware of it but ignored it anyways.

I let Sammy know, and her response was "That's a thing? Well, her teacher would have reported her anyways I guess."

A few days later, we get a knock on the door. It's a game warden. I let him inside, went to my room, and proceeded to listen to Ally doing her "I'm a poor innocent victim how could you do this to me!" crying. I mostly just felt bad for the poor game warden for having to deal with her.

The only thing I could hear from the other room was her wailing like a banshee and him going "Ma'am, please calm down. Are you alright ma'am? Ma'am..."

A few days later Sammy and I came back from the store to see all of Ally's stuff gone. All of her clay, supplies, clothes, etc. were gone and her room was totally empty except for her bed frame (which came with the house).

I have no idea what happened. I'm sure she wasn't allowed to turn in a sculpture covered in illegal feathers for her final, so Idk if she was suspended/expelled or if she just had a tantrum and moved out?

On one hand it was really fucking nice seeing her face consequences for her actions, but the other part of me feels bad about possibly getting her suspended/expelled/fined/jailed over feathers and a nest.

The EPA website states that punishment for MBTA violations for misdemeanor offences (which I believe she committed since I don't think she planned on selling anything, and I know she didn't kill any of the birds) can range from up to $5,000 in fines to no more than six months in jail.

So, AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[tikiface]

Since someone went and opened my fucking pandoras box of Potemkin Headcanons: MORE

Potemkin spends a lot of downtime in Zepps public parks either painting or enjoying nature, and he is a bit like a Disney princess in that he stays so still that the wildlife tends to perch or hide on him like he's a weirdly shaped tree. He's very slow, patient, and mindful, and rarely scares animals away with his movements.

He's very popular with the elderly Zeppian citizens that visit him in the parks because he is a consistent presence and enjoy how well-mannered he is. He frequently gets gifts like handmade items and baked goods from them, and they check in on what he’s painting.

Gabriel sometimes has to remind Potemkin to take more time off. He's just way too eager to keep working or even shoulder the workload of other people simply because knows he can do the work of 10 men by himself pretty easily. Has a tendency to overbook himself without thinking. Why send 20 men when he can do it himself? Gabriel has to remind him that just because he can do certain things with ease because of his gift, it doesn’t mean its his job to always be the one to do it.

Gabriel has planned and fashioned Zepps headquarters and newer public infrastructure to accommodate for Potemkins size, Like larger doors, higher ceilings, and sturdier seats in places he frequents. This also lead to more extensive accessibility infrastructure for the elderly, deaf, blind, etc as well.

Potemkins house is comically huge on the inside. everything he owns is huge to the point of being unusable to normal people, though he still insists on having tiny furniture for guests. He enjoys actually being able to cook for himself though.

He has a set of Zepp-forged unbreakable tungsten artists tools given to him by Gabriel after he became president. They are some of his most prized possessions, mostly because they are some of the first things Gabriel went out of his way to make accessible for him.

Some darker HCs

Potemkin has personally witnessed a bomb collar go off on a fellow slave trying to defect at least once. This one is vaguely hinted at by Bedmans Theatre of Pain in Xrd where he reacts by saying "Wait, Don't go! It'll explode!"

Potemkin has only been free for around 8 of the 41-ish years he's been alive. (Time between GG and Strive being 7-8 years. Apparently the only thing close to a canonical age for Pot was some beta concept page putting him at 34 in the first game.) So it's no wonder he still adjusting and has severe self worth issues.

I like to think Gabriel is between 10-20 years older than Pot. Old enough to have been in a commanding position while Pot was still a kid.

Pots limiters are actually embedded in him and at this point, are required for him to survive. Releasing them for any amount of time allows him to use his full strength but is incredibly bad for his health in the long-term.

He has to eat so fucking much just to stay calorie-neutral. He burns energy like a diesel truck and can very easily begin to starve if he's not in an environment of abundance.

He has an over-apology habit from when he had less control over his strength and accidentally broke a lot of stuff. Even worse, he has trauma from accidentally harming undeserving living beings. He treats others with extreme mindfulness and a feather-light gentleness, but to this day it still takes a huge mental toll and it exhausts him having to constantly by hyper-aware of himself for too long. This along with his introverted nature leads him to need a lot of alone time.

He feels oddly comforted by the fact that Gabriel is strong enough to easily fold him. The one person in his day-to day life he doesn’t have to worry about hurting. Someone he admires and actually challenges him.

[lichenaday]

I know this blog is lichen focused, but I also consider it a science blog and a space where I can talk about my experiences in science and academia. My most recent field work involved catching, handling, and ringing birds at a bird observatory, and I wanted to talk a little about the harsh realities of working with wild animals that I feel like don't get represented enough. I think it's important to paint a fair and realistic picture of what the world of animal research looks like, as it often gets misrepresented in media.

Wild animals do not like being handled. You have probably heard some story or seen some movie that makes it seem like you are somehow gonna connect to the animals you are working with and reassure them that you mean them no harm. No no, you are a big scary predator and they have no idea what is happening, and they scream, bite, and fight like hell to get away from you. This runs the gambit from kinda funny to mildly annoying to actually making it hard for you to work to making you feel bad for putting these animals through this stress. There will be no special magical wild animal friendships, trust me.

Animals are DIRTY. Like I know you know that on some level, but you don't really know it until you are up close and personal with them. In the case of the birds I work with, this usually means shit. Lots and lots of shit. On them, or you, on every surface and article of clothing you have. And you may think "in the grand scheme of poops, bird poops aren't so bad." But let me tell you: in sheer quantity and viscosity, bird shit beats them all.

PARASITES. Now we are not anti-parasite on this blog in general, they have their place in the ecosystem just like everything else. But personally, I don't really enjoy having to see them or experience them up close and personal. I'm talking ticks, fleas, mites, intestinal worms, louse flies, etc. Just . . . no thanks.

Animals get injured, and having to see these injuries up close and knowing there isn't anything I can do about it is hard. Be they old wounds, new, or the very rare wound that can occur during the catching and handling process, it can really get you down looking at an animal that you can't help.

Animals are unpredictable. Like, most of this field is about *trying* to predict their behavior, but animals are true disciples of Murphy's Law, and I swear they get off on frustrating scientists and their well laid plans and hypotheses. For me, this meant that the birds I was working with just didn't show up in the predicted numbers. This was frustrating to me on a how-the-fuck-is-my-project-gonna-work-out-now? level, but also on a worried-for-the-health-of-the-birds-and-the-planet level. If you enjoy work that is predictable and dependable, wildlife biology isn't for you.

I wat to be clear that I LOVE what I do, and I wouldn't trade it for the world. The work I and other wildlife biologists do is incredibly important and I am not saying this to cast a disparaging light on the field. But so many wildlife biologists I have interacted with are not like, bleeding heart, sensitive babies like me, and didn't adequately prepare for the mental and emotional toll of working with wildlife. I think the field selects for folks who are able to compartmentalize their love and empathy for animals, and I don't like that. I think we need people like me in the field, but I think they should be prepared for the reality of it, that's all. Or maybe I just need to vent lol.

[firelord-frowny]

also??????? i 100% believe that any aliens that are currently interacting with/visiting/studying earth are absolutely not here with hostile intentions omg!

especially bc like... if they DID wanna fuck shit up... what the hell is taking them so long?

.............................unless 😨they're actually responsible for all the catastrophic environmental and human rights crises via either telepathically controlling the minds of ~The Powers That Be~ or outright posing as the powers that be 😨😨😨😨😨

.......but i'm pretty sure that's not it lmao i'm pretty sure they're nice. but yeah like, if they wanted to just wreak havoc or enslave humankind or drain all our natural resources or eat us or whatever, i think that 1) they would have done it by now, and 2) they wouldn't be trying so hard to keep their presence a secret! like, what are we gonna do if we catch them lurking?? run away?? lmfao run away WHERE??? they supposedly have technology that allows incredible feats of travel, and we're gonna, what, hop in our lil cars and try to zoom to safety??? we gonna point our itty bitty lil weapons of war at them? boy BYE! if they're here, and they have the abilities we speculate they have, there aint shit any of us could do about it if they wanted to do harm!

but anyway lmao my theory is that aliens are mostly just making lil wildlife documentaries about us and shit lmao. there's an alien version of david attenborough somewhere calmly and soothingly narrating footage of humans in grocery stores and describing it as an intricate though basal and inefficient form of eusociality.

[stiltonbasket]

saw you were loaning out xiao-yu and this popped out of my brain pretty much fully formed. hope my ramblings can entertain you - anon submitter

---

It wasn't obvious, at first, what it was that woke Lan Wangji in the night. They were night-hunting deep in Baling territory; ordinarily taboo since they were of a different sect, their hunt had been sanctioned by young master Ouyang himself who had begged Hanguang-jun and Wei-qianbei to investigate a troubling incident while the Ouyang sect was wrapped up in the fallout of a recent flood and subsequent landslide. And well enough that they had accepted the sect heir's plea, as the bog sprite that had been the source of the issue had grown enough to cause serious harm if had it had encountered a settlement. As it was, Wei Ying had easily tracked the creature to its lair, where he and Wangji had summarily dispatched it without any problem. However, the investigation had taken them into Baling's back-country with neither an inn nor a welcoming barn around for hours, even by sword, and with night swiftly approaching the decision to make camp had been an easy one. All of which lead to this moment, and none of which explained why Lan Wangji was awake when - yes, Wei Ying was still fast asleep, snuggled into Lan Wangji's back. If Wei Ying's keen sense for danger had not been alerted, what possible reason could Lan Wangji have for waking? And then he heard it. "Mnnnn, L'n Zhaaaaan, s'eeaarrllyy," Wei Ying whined when Lan Wangji shook him. "D'n wanna wake up, m'tiiirreeed." "Wei Ying," Lan Wangji said, patient but firm, knowing that his love would not ignore him. "Listen. Do you hear that?" Wei Ying was instantly alert, just as Lan Wangji had expected. Though he tensed into one long line of muscle, Wei Ying did not make a single sound. Together, the two strained to hear anything past the creak of trees and the soft sounds of the night-dwelling wildlife. For several minutes, nothing happened, and Lan Wangji began to wonder if he really had heard anything after all. Then, they heard it: the faintest thread of a wail, nearly lost beneath the wind. Lan Wangji felt more than heard Wei Ying's sharp intake of breath. "A baby," he whispered, "Lan Zhan, is that a baby I'm hearing?" "Mn." With not another word spoken between them, the pair sprang to action: packing up camp, assembling clothes, preparing their weapons - because either some fell being was attempting to lure innocent people with a mimicked cry, or there really was a baby somewhere out in the wilderness that needed help as soon as they could provide it. In a scant few minutes, there camp was packed away and they were in pursuit.

--- Wei Wuxian was both impressed and appalled when they found the source of the wailing. Impressed because someone had managed to make it really far into a really difficult part of Baling's ancient swamp forests. Appalled, because that person had gone deep into the swamp forest to abandon a baby. "What the fuck," he snarled, "no really, what the fuck. Are you seriously, seriously just leaving a baby here to die? Are you completely insane or just an incredible fuck-up?" The fuck-up in question stood a few paces away from a bundle of flailing cloth, and by the look on his dumb face he had absolutely not expected anyone to catch him in the act. The baby-abandoning act. Really, the guy was lucky Wei Wuxian hadn't sicced an entire graveyard on him yet. "Where is the child's family," Lan Zhan said. Good Lan Zhan, always remembering to ask the right questions even in the face of great assholery. "Their mother and father must be missing them." Fuck-up sneered. "His whore mother is dead, and the world is better for it," he spat. "Who knows who his father is? It could be any man from here to Lanling - ack!" "But you're the one who's leaving a baby at the mercy of the elements," Wei Wuxian chirped from where he'd snuck up behind the asshole. He brushed breezily past where the guy was still spluttering stupidly and scooped up the whimpering infant. "Aiya, baby, what's this loser doing leaving a sweet little bun like you all alone out here, hmm?" "You! I'll teach you to watch your tongue-!" Whether it was the sound of steel sliding free or Bichen's light bathing the scene that shut the guy up, Wei Wuxian didn't know and didn't care. He was much too focused on checking the baby's health to be bothered with the honourless fuck any more. By the time Lan Zhan had presumably scared the asshole away, Wei Wuxian was finished with his (admittedly rudimentary) examination of the baby (a boy!) and told Lan Zhan as much. "He seems well enough, no obvious signs of injury or neglect, but the sooner we get him to a doctor the better I'll feel. Plus he'll need food soon!" In the gloom, We Wuxian sensed more than saw Lan Zhan's nod. "We'll take him to Jiang-furen. We'll reach Lotus Pier by dawn if we leave now." "Good plan, good plan Lan Zhan - but first, come a bit closer, bring Bichen up a bit, I swear I can feel a word stitched just here and I want to know what it says." Obediently Lan Zhan brought Bichen closer - best of husbands, so good to his Wei Ying - and together they inspected the corner of the baby's somewhat tattered blanket. "'Yu,' is it?" Wei Wuxian read. "Does that make you Yu-gongzi or Yu-er, baby? Bah, who cares! Xiao-Yu, Xiao-Yu, don't be afraid, okay? You're safe with me and Hanguang-jun, we won't let anything bad happen to you anymore." Wei Wuxian wasn't sure if the baby really understood what was being said to him, but he must have felt safe enough, for he let out a quavering sigh, smacked his lips, and fell straight asleep right there in Wei Wuxian's arms. Tears sprang to Wei Wuxian's eyes. "Lan Zhan," he gasped, "Lan Zhan, how could anyone leave such a precious little one to die like that?" Lan Zhan's warm arm curled over Wei Wuxian's shoulders as Lan Zhan said, "It does not matter anymore. We are here now. Xiao-Yu shall not know hardship from this day forth." That got a sniffling laugh out of Wei Wuxian. "Don't make promised you're not certain you can keep," he scolded lightly. "But! At the very least, we can promise he won't know hardship for the next few days. Let's get him to Lotus Pier so we can keep that promise." Lan Zhan's lips alighted to Wei Wuxian's hair. Wei Wuxian didn't think he would ever get tired of feeling his husband's smile press into his scalp. "We'll leave now," Lan Zhan said, and true to his word, they were off. --- Later, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji will fret over how quiet the baby has been during the flight until the good Jiang-furen declares him to be completely healthy, just a bit tired and hungry. They will rush about to secure food and a soft bed and marvel at the baby's every breath and movement. Much later, they will learn that the baby was indeed a Yu-er, that he had been born to a prostitute who had died from birth complications when he was fifteen weeks old, that the man who had left him to die had been an Ouyang disciple and probably (but not provably) his father. Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji will rage over this in their own ways, but never will they hesitate to claim the baby as their own and welcome him into their family. Much, much later, Xiao-Yu will grow up with two fathers and stories of his mother, a dear older brother and plenty of family to smother him in love. He will know hardship, as every person does, but he will have no lack of help and support to see him through the difficult times. For now, Xiao-Yu is warm and comfortable, wrapped up in blankets and two sets of arms that hold him tight. He sleeps soundly and knows, in the ways that babies sometimes do, that he is safe with these people. And soon he will know that he is so very, very loved.

[foli-vora]

omg the 1K celebration is so cute! Can i request frankie or ezra (you pick) with #30 (i think, it was the grabbing on to the others arm) female reader and ALL THE FLUFF. thanks 💕 congrats again on the 1k!! you really do deserve it ���

Sweetpea! I’m gonna try my Ezra boots on and hope it works out lmao. I’m still nervous with him. Thank you for your request, angel, I hope you enjoy! ❤️

#30 grabbing onto the others arm

Pairing: Ezra x f!reader

Warnings: none

Never one for being taciturn, your previous partners in prospecting always described you as the most talkative person they’d ever met. Some enjoyed it, but for the most part you were often described as too much. Long winded. Garrulous. Often you were being told to either quieten down or shut the fuck up entirely.

But how could you? You had seen so many things! Enjoyed so many adventures! How could one not entertain the thought of conversation when rewarded with company? Prospecting could be a lonely, solitary life after all.

Until you met Ezra, of course. Ezra was... Ezra was starlight. How could he not see?

Fully convinced he had been touched by starlight itself when the shocking blonde streak in his hair practically glowed in the sunlight, he had shook with mirth when you had told him such, a wide grin splitting his face and causing that one little dimple to crease his cheek.

He had leant forward, encouraging you to touch the surprisingly soft hair before he grinned again, wide and earnest.

“Now it’s been touched by starlight.”

It was then you started seeing your new partner in a different light, the air around him suddenly shining with soft hues of pink whenever the planet’s incredible sister suns would shine through the canopy and bathe him in their warm rays.

Perhaps you should have been paying more attention to your incredibly lush surroundings, and not gawking at the oblivious man washing tools in the small fresh water stream a little ways away. Perhaps if you had focused on the set task at hand, dusting off and polishing the gems you had both pried from the thick earth, you would have been able to pick up on the snapping of branches behind you and better prepared yourself.

The fierce blow of hot air across the bare skin of your cheek has you freezing in slight fear, your wide eyes rolling to gaze at whatever creature had so brazenly walked upon your worksite. Usually the wildlife steered clear of you and the noise of conversation, most of the planets predators being nocturnal and leaving you to work peacefully throughout the day.

It... it was magnificent. A beast standing much taller than your small, crouched frame. A wild twist of chalky white antlers with greenery falling from them like a crown. A snout pokes curiously at your shoulder with a grunt, and you pray to whatever Gods are listening that it isn’t a carnivore.

“E-Ezra—”

“Be at ease, birdie. Stand slowly. He means you no harm—show him the same courtesy.”

You see the beasts eyes move, four round orbs of startling purple flicking over your shoulder curiously and to where Ezra treads slowly closer, hands raised in a show of open surrender.

It grunts suddenly, it’s breath blowing across and your face and making you both pause in your movements. When it makes no move to attack, Ezra continues, ensuring to keep his frame small and defenceless.

“Come, birdie,” he murmurs, a gloved hand winding around your wrist and aiding you to stand on unsteady legs. “Stay low.”

You both dare not turn your back on it in fear of insulting the creature, and so you back away slowly, letting Ezra lead you on a path from the clearing and to the safe cover of trees. You melt into the darkness, keeping low and silent as you wait for it to move on.

“What’s he doing?” You ask quietly, watching the beast sniff through your tools and belongings before standing proudly and making a deep noise that echoes through the space.

“I’d say our magnificent companion requires hydration.” Ezra replies quietly, the low rasp of his voice settling deliciously into your chest as he speaks in your ear. “That streamlet is the only fresh water supply to this sector.”

Exhaling sharply in awe, you enthusiastically grab onto Ezra as a smaller version of the beast cautiously appears from the bushes, walking on unsure legs and to the stream, bowing with a lot less grace than its counterpart to lap from the cool water.

The small creature sniffs along your belongings, nipping curiously at the heavy canvas jacket you had shed in the heat earlier that morning before being called to the tree line. Another creature steps from the leaves, lacking the majestic twist of antlers on the other two but no less impressive in its size or beauty.

The larger beast nudges it softly, their snouts nuzzling tenderly against the other as the baby prances about in the sunlight, stretching it’s limbs and bucking playfully in the air.

“It’s magical.” You coo quietly, unaware of your hands still clutching your partner or the way he eyes you fondly from his peripheral. A gloved hand rests lightly above your own, tightening ever so slightly as you lean further into his frame.

“Indeed it is.”

+

[jamaisjoons]

of oleanders & honeysuckle I ⤑ knj | m.

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:〝 when one of your coven sisters, malise, had first mentioned your soulmate, you’d been young and unbothered - preferring to chase the elusive seduction of power. now, you’re twenty-five, and having established yourself as a powerful witch of the sisters of elysia, you've grown tired of the cold embrace of power. looking to settle down, you move to carelia in search of the one destined for you. within days, you come across the charmingly handsome apothecary owner, and warlock, kim namjoon. something about him magnetises you. but is he the one the universe has fated for you? 〞strangers to lovers au. supernatural au. witch/warlock au. soulmates au.

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: witch!reader x warlock!namjoon

❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: angst ∝ fluff ∝ future smut

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 12k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: mentions of death, oc has a traumatic™ childhood, oc is also an orphan so mentions of parental death, brief mentions of religious persecution? (yn’s parent’s coven is destroyed by knights from a new religion), brief depictions of fighting/violence, there’s no smut in this part but namjoon is hot as fuck, namjoon in leather which needs a warning in itself, use of magic ofc, namjoon is I N S A N E and im simping for him

➵ 𝑎/𝑛: this was,,, supposed to be a oneshot but fneorifnge i’ve been so lazy and i haven’t been writing as much so in order to post something I’ve decided to split this into four parts! also sorry there’s no smut in this chapter but the next three parts all have smut yeehaw 🤩

⏤ beta read by the lovely @yeoldontknow, @nightshadevinter, @inthecrescentmoonight​ and @jjungkooksthighs​

⟴ Series Masterlist

It’s the dead of winter. Snow crunches under your soles; the muffled sounds of your footsteps intermingling with the odd cracking branch, and crinkling leaf-litter as you navigate through the Forest of Ingredeen. The sky above you is bleak: faint wisps of smoke-grey clouds obscuring the otherwise stark, white canvas; and the harsh light causes your eyes to squint in the slightest. The thick blanket of snow that surrounds you doesn’t help; the pristine-white coating only further reflecting the brightness. Despite the austereness of the sky, life continues thriving around you. Barren skeletons of deciduous trees are juxtaposed by evergreens of pine, fir, and yew – the latter of whose verdant branches still boast succulent needles of jade and viridian. Some of them, most notably the yew trees, still bear fruits: the scarlet berries adding a splash of colour to the contrary dreary scene.

Stillness befalls the entirety of the forest, and the eerie silence only amplifies the sounds of snow crunching under your feet. The air is equally stagnant, with not a single gust of a howling gale, nor a gentle wisp of a susurrus breeze, drifting through the atmosphere. Though, that's a small blessing you’re thankful for; because even with the absence of the wind, the frigid bite of the cold settles into your bones. As a matter of fact, you’re dressed in a thick-piled winter cloak - the black material lined with fur – as well as your woollen dress and leather boots. Yet, you still feel the brisk chill kiss your skin, the surface turning icy as it prickles with goosebumps.

Curling further into the warmth of your cloak, you pull the piled fabric further around your body and continue walking through the dense thicket of trees. The quiet is strange, and heavy, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think the woodland was devoid of all life. Nonetheless, every now and then, the shrubs around you move: their foliage rustling as hares and squirrels scuttle about, and wintertime birds flit through the canopy: sweet chirps of birdsong and languid flaps of wings resonating through the air. Albeit, they come infrequently, with long, gaping silences between. But they still come, and that settles the inkling of unease that flutters through your stomach.

You’ve only just moved into the large province of Carelia; the nation nestled between the much smaller territories of Alphana and Eyres; the latter of which had once been your previous home. Of course, in spite of Carelia being a large country – abundant with diverse wildlife and vast expanses of wilderness – the population of inhabitants itself was fairly small. In fact, throughout the entire country, there were only five human settlements; a significant decrease from the almost overpopulated country of Eyres. Naturally, that wasn’t the only difference. No, here, in Carelia, magic was bountiful – the very essence of life so palpable that you could feel it thrum in the air. Not that any of that was surprising by all means. No. After all, nature was plentiful here, and as a result, it meant that the innate magic of life was equally as powerful.

Taking a deep breath, you watch as your breath fogs in front of your face, causing your nose to scrunch at the sight. You had chosen to leave your previous coven, of your own volition. It had been a spur of the moment decision, after one of your past sisters, who’d specialised in oracles and premonitions, had suggested through thinly-veiled euphemisms that you’d find your destined soulmate here. When she’d first prophesied her vision, you’d been but a young wiccan, at the tender age of eighteen, a mere two years after your initiation into your coven, and you hadn’t cared too much. Back then, the idea of love, soulmates, and destiny had been far out of your mind. Rather, your entire being burned with the need to learn, to hone your magic and see just how far you could take it.

Your past coven had been a famous one, known by the entire world as the Sisters of Elysia. It had been an elusive coven, shrouded in mystery and repute, and one that was only open to the most powerful, or promising, female witches. In fact, it had been so exclusively prestigious, that it could only be joined by invitation from the High Priestess herself; a powerful seer with the ability to seek out the potential, innate magic of a witch or warlock. Though of course, the Sisters of Elysia had only been interested in an all-female coven, and even the most powerful warlocks had been turned away. Not that they’d even consider joining, though. No, they had their own coven for that – the Brotherhood of Requiem.

Being discovered by Mardella, the High Priestess, at the age of fifteen had been a blessing, and an honour; and having been told you’d had an incredible affinity for the Destructive Arts and Alchemical Restoration, two powerful schools of magic, had been even more of a privilege. As such, Mardella, and the rest of your sisters, had taken you under their wing, and taught you all about witchcraft for a year. And then, the very day you’d turned sixteen, you’d been formally initiated into the coven.

After that, you’d spent years upon years training your two schools of magic, honing them to the skill they are today. For the vast majority of your young adulthood, you’d chased the beguiling essence of magic – learning as much as you could about the two different archetypes – and soaking every ounce of the information into the very fibre of your skin. Power was a seductive thing, something far more enticing than the notion of love, and readily, you’d fallen into its clutches. Naturally, it was only made easier by being part of the Sister of Elysia.

You see, your previous coven had been a nomadic one – and its migratory nature had made learning all the more easier – especially since at the age of twenty-five now, you’ve traversed almost the entire world, and seen more things than an ordinary witch of your age would have. At first, the vagrancy of your previous home had been exciting. You’d loved travelling the globe, visiting different countries, and learning all types of cultures while simultaneously acuminating your magic. As a matter of fact, you had craved it – and wandering about the different kingdoms had whetted your own innate wanderlust; as well as the desire to learn as much as you could.

The Sister of Elysia had been your home, and you’d loved the family you’d created – after all, the blood of the covenant was thicker than the water of the womb. Or so, you’d been told all your life. Nevertheless, despite all your attachment and adoration for your coven – you couldn’t help but find that something was missing. You see, your blood-related family had been torn from you at the young age of ten, the coven of your parents razed to the ground by Knights of the Seven Lights: a new religion that had swept through Eyres, and in the bloodbath that had followed, you’d lost everything.

Orphaned from childhood, you’d spent the next five years living in the abandoned church that your parents’ coven, Mages of Mirror Lake, had occupied when they’d still been alive. Thankfully, the Kingdom of Eyres had a warm temperate, and winters were non-existent. Hence, even though you were essentially homeless, you’d somehow survived. By all means, you’d had to forage for scraps of food, clothing, or any other basic necessities – sometimes even needing to find a neighbouring human settlement and stealing whatever you could get your hands upon – but you’d survived. Moreover, you’d even continued sharpening your skills in witchcraft, using the ruined library of the church in order to continue your schooling.

For five years, you’d lived like that. Using the school of Destructive Arts, you’d kept those who would harm you, typically members of the Knights of the Seven Lights, at bay. And using the school of Alchemical Restoration, you’d heal and look after yourself; as well as the odd human who was desperate enough for a treatment to an ailment that they would turn away from their new religion and back towards the Magic of Old. Eventually, though, you’d met Mardella, who’d sought you out and brought you back to the Sisters of Elysia. And that was where you’d found your home, happiness, and solace.

That was, until now.

In the recent years, your magic had grown listless, and you, yourself, had grown restless – until eventually, you found yourself at an impasse.

You no longer found joy in travelling, and considering you’ve travelled everywhere there was little more you could learn that way, and even less that you could discover. You’ve reached the peak of your power. You’ve spent an entire decade garnering your knowledge, immersing yourself in the seductive lure of the Black Arts, only to hit a culmination. And now, there was nowhere else you could go except down. Of course, you could always consider learning a new school of magic if you so wished to continue chasing power. Except, lately, that deep, insatiable need for it had started diminishing; the searing fire dwindling until it was nothing more than weak flames licking at your being.

You still loved to practice your witchcraft, of course you did. You’d never really lose your love for power or magic. But your hunger for it had ebbed, its cold seduction releasing you from its tantalising embrace – and the moment that had disappeared, you’d found yourself lost. For the longest time, power had been your only vice, the only thing you had sought after, and cared for. But with that thirst gone, you had no idea what to do; or where to go anymore. More than that, you'd found yourself craving for some sense of home, of belonging. You had that with your coven, of course you did. But it just wasn’t the same.

A while now, there was a small, distant part of you that craved what had been stolen from you from a young age. A family. Love. You craved a sense of belonging; the affection of a lover, and the comfort and safety that they afforded. Something that was out of your reach with the Sisters of Elysia. By all means, it wasn’t as if there were rules that forbid romance. No, of course not. It was more, with how elusive the coven was, and with the doctrine that knowledge was power, and power was prestige; it meant that while romance wasn’t frowned upon, it just wasn’t something that was frequently entertained. Especially since the Sisters of Elysia had no room for men. Though, of course, if you fell for one of the sisters, that was a wholly different matter.

Which had all been well and good when you were younger. But now, you’re older, and you no longer covet power. Rather, you yearn for a sense of security, of home, of stability.

And thus, lately, you’ve found yourself going back to Malise’s oracle; the seer having foreseen of your soulmate almost a decade ago. You see, everyone in the world has someone fated for them – the knots of destiny tied by the Moirai long before even your own grandparents were born. Naturally, not everyone who was bound together actually found each other; after all, the world is large, and the universe was rarely ever so kind. No, more often than not, soulmates could be born miles apart, or even countries apart – and as a result – very few people found love with their soulmates. That is, of course, if you’re a human with no ties to the Magic of Old.

For witches and wizards, it was different.

The natural essence of the universe – the energy that made up the Magic of Old – was what guided practitioners of the Black Arts, and it was that very power that had bound the two beings together. And as such, for witches and warlocks, it was easier to find soulmates. Easier. Magic was mysterious, and the universe very scarcely answered definitively. Oracles were particularly attuned to the cosmos, hence their ability to catch glimpses of the future. But that’s all they were, mere glimpses and vague inklings. It was very rare for a seer to be able to clearly see the future – which is why Mardella was so powerful: she was particularly harmonious with the world.

However, Mardella very rarely involved herself with matters of the heart. As the High Priestess of the Sisters of Elysia, she embodied the fundamental teachings of knowledge and power; and as such her prophecies were seldom about the frivolities of romance or soulmates. Malise, however, was another matter. Frequently, the seer would have visions about soulmates, and she could even control them to a degree – having them at will. The first vision she’d had of you and your destined lover, had been involuntary; the fortune triggered randomly. She’d tried to speak to you about it, even offering to look further into it. However, you’d quickly dismissed her. After all, back then, you hadn’t cared.

Now, though, was a completely different matter.

Thus, a week ago, you’d sheepishly slunk into her chambers, and quietly asked if she’d be able to find out more about your soulmate. Her response had been eager, and she’d conducted her divination swiftly. As usual, her vision had been vague – veiled in euphemisms and cloaked with mysticism – the universe purposely responding to her questions with ambiguous answers. All she could say was that it was a man, a warlock to be specific, and that he lived in Carelia. It wasn’t much, but it was something. The idea of moving and settling down in Carelia – a kingdom so rich in nature and magic – immediately had excitement flourishing through you. Your earlier listlessness quickly faded, and with a new sense of purpose, you’d formally, and abruptly, left the Sisters of Elysia before you made your way to Carelia.

Naturally, there’s not much you know about your soulmate – because, really, living in Carelia and being a warlock was barely any information to go off of. Nevertheless, as mentioned before, despite how large of a country it is, Carelia only had a small population of humans inhabiting it. More than that, despite the abundance of magic, there was only one coven that was still prolific in the nation: Coven of the Evening Star. Moreover, out of curiosity, and before you had moved, you’d brewed the Essence of Venus; a potion that took on the scent of your destined lover. Each fragrance is wholly unique, customised purely for the individual, and completely memorable. In fact, you doubt you could ever forget the scent.

Thick notes of a pungent scent made up the bulk of your soulmate’s fragrance. Despite the sharpness of it, it was fruity and warm; with subtle hints of rich honey and ripe citrus. The fragrance was sharp, deeply intoxicating, and incredibly comforting. The telltale scent of honeysuckles in full bloom. Undercurrents of morning dew and fresh soil cut the effluvious aroma, adding a depth of light freshness and earthen musk to it that had your stomach flourishing with warmth. The first time you smelled it, you'd completely melted into the scent - something about it calling to the very recesses of your being, and soothing your soul - and you'd wanted nothing more than to sink into it.

After that, you'd immediately found yourself daydreaming about the mysterious warlock it belonged to. Lost in your fantasies, you wondered what his name was, what he looked like, and what he was like. You wondered what kind of magic he practised, and what he liked to do in his spare time. Moreover, you wonder just why he smells the way he does - and whether the scent of honeysuckle was wholly natural to him or artificial. Momentarily, you wonder where the fresh soil and morning dew comes from too. Mainly because, none of the notes that make up your soulmate's scents are common, or ordinary. Though, that's something you're thankful for, because hopefully, just hopefully, it would make finding him all that bit easier.

Distracted by your thoughts, you don't notice the dense thicket of woodland start to thin: the space between the trees growing further and further apart; until, all of a sudden, you're thrown out of your thoughts by the sight that greets you. Out of the blue, you find yourself in a large clearing. The glade is spacious, fringed by shrubs and bushes that make up the understory of the forest. Above you, the once thick canopy has cleared up, allowing dense beams of stark-white light to flood the ground: the sky's radiance bathing over the forest floor and casting its harsh brilliance over the structure that makes its home in the middle of the meadow.

When had you reached home?

Your cottage is moderately sized, and homely, but nevertheless, a sight to behold. The roof is gabled: made up of thin, multi-shaded hues of black slate, and the walls are smooth: made up of clay and stone of varied shades of beige. Flowering vines scale the exterior of your home, from the climbing roses that frame the oakwood entrance to your home, to the branches of clematis and moonflower that intertwine together over the side walls. Trumpet vine hangs over the edge of the roof, the lush foliage draping over the large windows that peek into your home. A wooden fence encloses your land, with the only entrance a small gate that breaks up the stakes. Bushes fill the space between your home and the timber barrier, however, being the dead of winter, only a few still bloom: the large shrub of daphne in the corner by the chimney, little clusters of violas nestled between clumps of cyclamen, and the vines of winter clematis that creep over the walls.

Carelia is large, and there are few settlements littered around the wild expanse of the wilderness. Nevertheless, your home is still secluded from even the nearest community - your new coven. Most people would be daunted by the fact that you're living alone in the woods. However, you? Not so much. After all, with your proficiency in the Destructive Arts, it would be hard for someone to get the best of you. Not to mention, that you had lived by yourself in the woods from the ages of ten to fifteen. No, to you, living alone in the forest, is somewhat comforting, and nostalgic.

At the comforting sight of your home, the corners of your lips curl into a slight smile, and you begin walking down the thin, winding dirt path that leads through the gate and to your home. Getting to the entrance to your cottage, though, you abruptly stop; the smile on your face falling. A small wicker basket sits on the shallow concrete step at the foot of your door. Curiosity colouring your being, you place your own basket of firewood and food down, before cautiously pulling back the soft linen cloth that covers the contents. Seeing the items inside, however, your curiosity is swiftly replaced by surprise.

A pot of lilac makes the centrepiece, the four-petaled flowers blooming in soft shades of periwinkle and blush despite the mid-winter atmosphere. Next to the pot lies a bundle of dried lavender, wrapped in a piece of plain brown parchment and tied with silk black ribbons. A few of the desiccated petals litter the base of the wicker basket, and in spite of its dryness, the thick, piney-floral scent of the bulbs intermingle with the cloying - almost sacchariferous - scent of lilac into a delicate floral aroma. The last items in the basket are three muslin sachets that contain a mix of rosemary, sage and cloves - the bag tied shut with red thread.

Thanks to your background in Alchemical Restoration, you’re well versed in the craft of herbalism, and from your extensive knowledge, you know that all the items signify protection. Lavender for purification and healing of the soul, lilac to banish malicious spirits or malevolent intentions, and the sachets to ward off negative energy. Having only moved into your new home yesterday, you haven't had a chance to properly ward off your property, and as such, the protective charms that keep you safe are basic and easily penetrable. Thus, the gift of the flowers and herbs is incredibly sweet. If a little strange, considering you have yet to meet any of your new coven members, or even announce your arrival. Nevertheless, you don't sense any negativity radiating off of the basket. In fact, if anything, you can feel a soft aura of safety enclosing the items - the gifter having clearly cast a few more wards of protection around them.

“Hello,” a voice suddenly speaks, and not expecting it, you immediately startle. Instantly, a rush of adrenaline surges through you, causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand on edge, and a swell of power to flood through your fingertips. Before you can even consider your actions, lightning begins crackling around your fingertips: small bolts of bright, purple-hued sparks arcing around the pads of your digits; your magic involuntarily manifesting itself in a bid to protect you.

Spinning on your heel, you thrust out your hand on instinct, causing a large bolt of lightning to appear out of thin air. The moment you turn around, however, your eyes blow wide and despair courses through you. The newcomers are dressed in two large cloaks, their coats effectively hiding their forms from you. However, from the design of the brooch that fastens their coverings - the emblem of an intricate silver star - you know that they’re members of your new coven; most likely coming to greet you. Nonetheless, the damage is already done - your magic having flooded out of you and into the air.

The lightning bolt surges towards the two and you watch as the female’s hands move in a flash, a spell immediately slipping from her lips as she erects a shield in front of her and her partner. It appears just in time - your own magic colliding directly into the middle of the barrier. To the witch’s credit, the shield manages to deflect your attack, and the force of the collision causes the lightning to bound into the stratosphere. A large flash of blue blazes through the sky, accompanied by the thunderous sound of lightning cracking, before your magic dissipates and ebbs back into the atmosphere; a terse silence once again shrouding the forest.

The moment it disperses, the aura of power around you fades away, and your shoulders immediately tense. Clambering to your feet, “Sweet Earth Mother, I am so sorry,” you quickly splutter. Adrenaline still coursing through you, your heart continues beating rapidly and your hands turn sweaty. Though, this time, rather than fear, it’s out of trepidation: a ripple of nervousness fluttering through you. This was not a good way to greet your new coven members.

The shorter of the two, the woman, pulls down her hood, and you’re met by mesmerising, cat-like eyes and a mischievous smile, “It’s okay. I kinda startled you on purpose,” comes her coy response. Nervousness replaced by confusion, your eyebrows furrow as you regard her in puzzlement. Beside her, the taller of the two lets out a little sigh and pulls down his own hood. The first thing you notice is that both of them have identical features: the same, sharp eyes; smooth, glass-like tanned skin, and small, pouty lips. Twins, no doubt.

“Yeah, and you almost had us killed. I told you not to startle her,” he chides, causing the woman’s cheeks to puff in a pout.

“Hey! I saved us, didn’t I? If it weren’t for my shield, we’d both be ash,” she backfires. The man simply scoffs and shakes his head.

“If you hadn’t scared her, we wouldn’t have needed the shield in the first place,” he retorts. The woman opens her mouth to retaliate, however, not having a comeback, she quickly closes it.

“Fair enough,” she concedes with a simple shrug of her shoulders.

“Purpose? Test?” you reiterate softly, breaking their little spat.

“Well, yes, of course. Your reputation precedes you, ____. I just had to see if the famed Witch of Ruin was truly as powerful as the rumours made you out to be,” the woman replies. Hearing her words, you let out an awkward chuckle.

Witch of Ruin.

Gods, you hadn’t heard that in a while.

You’d first gained the epithet during your years in Eyres, after you’d single handedly defeated a small group of the Knights of the Seven Lights, who’d come to ‘purge’ you of evil. After that one event, you’d gained infamy as the Witch of Ruin; rumours of a child born of chaos, lightning and fire, spreading through the country. As a result, more and more groups of the Knights would come looking for you, and one by one, they would fall at your hand. By all means, it had all stopped once you’d been rescued by Mardella. Nonetheless, being initiated into the Sisters of Elysia, of all covens, had only caused your fame to grow. After all, it was a coven that prized themselves on power.

Still, you haven’t heard that epithet in a while; having stayed your lust for power a while ago, and falling more into your love of Alchemical Restoration in the recent years. In fact, if you were being completely honest, you’d tried your hardest to put the nickname, Witch of Ruin, behind you. Mainly due to the fact that it had been born out of your need for survival. Not to mention, your anger, and what could only be considered ‘teenage angst’, over your circumstances from when you were an adolescent.

The man in front of you bows, the movement breaking you out of your reverie abruptly. “I’m sorry about my sister. I’m Min Yoongi, and this is Yoonji. We’re here to welcomeyou to the coven,” he apologises. Then, straightening out his back, he glares at his twin pointedly through the corner of his eyes, “Welcome. Not test,” he mutters. His words cause Yoonji to pout and stick her tongue out.

Eyes blowing out, you quickly shake your head while waving your hands dismissively. “No, no. It’s okay! Would you like to come in?” you ask as you gesture towards your home. This time, it’s Yoonji who shakes her head.

“Usually, we’d love to. But we don’t have long today. We need to get back to prepare for the coven meeting tomorrow,” she replies, her mischievous smile curling into an apologetic one. “We’re only here to drop off your initiation robes, as well as let you know that your formal induction into the coven will take place tomorrow, at evening’s twilight, in the Lunar Grove,” she continues.

Eyebrows knitting together, you cock your head to the side, “Lunar Grove?” you repeat, causing Yoongi to smile at you kindly.

“Someone will come collect you around dusk and bring you to the meeting spot,” he supplies, and you nod in understanding.

“Do we not have a building to convene in, or…?” you find yourself asking before you can stop.

A tinkling laugh slipping from her lips, Yoonji shakes her head. “The Coven of the Evening Star reveres nature first and foremost. We feel that buildings impair our ability to connect with both nature and the universe. So, while we aren’t a nomadic coven, we do not have an official church building to worship in either,” she explains. Mouth forming a little ‘o’, a ripple of sheepishness washes through you. You remember Malise telling you something about that, however, in your excitement to move and settle down, you hadn’t completely researched your new coven; a blight on your part.

Sensing your mortification, “Don’t worry about it too much. Our coven is very different from your old one, so I’m sure it’ll take you a while to get used to everything anyway. In the meantime, we’re here to help you with whatever you need,” Yoongi speaks, his voice low and comforting. A grateful smile curls onto your face as you thank him.

“Not to mention, everyone is excited to meet you. It’s all anyone can talk about lately. About how we’re not only going to meet a previous member of the Sisters of Elysia, but that she’s also joining our new coven. Not only that, but she’s also the fabled Witch of Ruin… I can assure you, that almost every member of the coven will travel to view your initiation tomorrow,” Yoonji chuckles lightly. The moment her words slip out her mouth, you let out an awkward laugh, and hearing the sound, Yoongi rolls his eyes.

“It’s not that daunting, don’t worry. And Yoonji is exaggerating, I doubt that many people will turn up,” he says while pointedly glaring at his sister through the corner of his eyes. Before she can say anything, however, he’s cutting her off, “We really must get going now, though. We still need to complete preparations for your initiation,” he continues before thrusting a neatly wrapped bundle of fabric towards you. “These are your Initiation Robes for the ceremony tomorrow. We look forward to having you join us,” he finishes.

Taking the bundled material from him, you smile at him once again, “I’m looking forward to joining,” comes your reply. With their business complete, the two of them turn on their heels and begin walking away. All of a sudden, however, a thought springs to mind, and you quickly call out to them. Immediately, they stop and turn back towards you, a look of interest on their face. With a wave of your hand, you gesture towards the wicker basket still laying on the porch of your door. “Did you send me this, by any chance?” you ask as you point towards your gift.

The twins glance at each other, a knowing glint flashing in their eyes as they silently communicate amongst one another. Simply watching them, you await their response. You don’t have to wait long, however, because a few short moments later, they’re both turning back to look at you; their heads moving eerily in sync - almost as if they’d planned it.

“It’s not from us, no. It’ll be from Namjoon,” Yoonji explains.

“Namjoon?” you dumbly repeat.

“Mhm. Kim Namjoon. He’s a warlock in our coven. He specialises in Herbalism, and he runs the apothecary that supplies us with the ingredients we need for our rituals, spells or potions. It’s probably a gift welcoming you to the neighbourhood,” she explains. For the umpteenth time today, confusion colours your face.

“Neighbourhood...? I didn’t think I had any neighbours,” comes your response. The land you own now, once belonged to the human settlement that borders the Forest of Ingredeen. When you’d purchased this area of land from the chief, he’d tried to explain that it was a secluded property and that a powerful coven lived in the Forest - and one that could take offense to a strange witch moving into their territory. Of course, once you’d explained that you were soon to join the coven yourself, you’d assuaged his fears and he’d easily bequeathed the land to you.

“Oh, theoretically, you don’t. But Namjoon’s home is the closest to you; he’s about a ten, maybe fifteen minute walk north-west from here. The rest of us live deeper in the forest,” Yoongi explains, his hand lifting as he points towards the general direction of Namjoon’s home. Eyebrows quirking, you turn your gaze back down to the gift as you look at it in interest.

“It’s a wonderful gift,” you mutter under your breath. Despite it being the middle of winter, the pot of lilacs are in full bloom: the velour petals still brightly coloured despite their pastel hue; the leaves still succulent, and a vivid shade of pine-green. Not to mention that the quality of the dried lavender is some of the best you’ve ever seen. Fully dessicated lavender usually tends to lose some of it’s scent, and with the deep, dusky-mauve shading, you know they’ve had all the moisture removed from them. Nevertheless, the camphorous scent of it is still strong; wafting into the atmosphere in soft waves.

“He’s incredibly skilled in what he does,” Yoongi responds, his voice laced with pride. Then, after a short pause, he continues, “He’s similar to you. He was raised by the Brotherhood of Requiem, but moved here and joined the coven, hmm… maybe two and a half years ago?”

Stilling at his words, your eyebrows shoot up into your hairline. If he was part of the Brotherhood of Requiem, he’d have to be incredibly skilled as a warlock; not to mention powerful. Mind casting back to Malise’s oracle, your heart flutters at the discovery. Could Namjoon be the one you’re destined for? Suddenly, you find yourself itching to go look for him. Though, of course, you wouldn’t know unless you smelled him. And it’d be a bit odd to walk up to a stranger and simply sniff him. Especially if it turned out he was not your soulmate. Still, his gift was sweet, and generous, and that in itself is enough of a reason for you to go meet him.

“If that’s all?” Yoonji asks, her words cutting you out of your thoughts. Startled by her voice, you snap your head back up and grace them both with a sheepish smile.

Scratching the back of your head, “Yes! Sorry to keep you,” you quickly respond. Neither of them say anything. Rather, they smile kindly before once again turning around and walking away. You watch their backs retreat, until their figures disappear into the dense woods that surround your home. Once they’re no longer in sight, you bend over and pick up both your gift, as well as your basket of firewood and food, before entering your home.

As soon as you’re inside the warm comfort of your cottage, you let out a soft sigh. Considering you’re about to leave soon, in order to go thank Namjoon for his gift, you leave on your heavy cloak. Instead, you pad further into your home - dragging in the snow on your boots with you - and into the kitchen. With a casual wave of your hand, the two baskets begin floating in the air before following your figure, and with another flick of your wrist, the firewood sails through the air and towards the fireplace; your food sorting itself out into the pantry and fridge.

Left with only the gift, you carefully place the basket onto the wooden counter of your kitchen island. Gently, you pick up the lilac pot, and the moment you touch the ceramic vase, your eyes widen. A soft thrum of magical essence flitters through your fingertips - travelling from your extremities and down your limbs, only to settle into your core. A sensation of comfort fills you, as well as a spark of energy, and immediately, you know that both spells of protection, and vitality, have been cast upon the pot. The former is obvious - the protection wards boosting the natural magical essence of the lilacs. The latter, however, probably explains just why the lilacs are still in bloom; their life force is most likely supported by the magic cast into it.

Thoughtlessly, your fingertips graze up the side of the vase, along a plump leaf, and towards a supple petal. Another spark of magic jolts through you, and as the calming sensation washes over you, a smile unknowingly curls on your face. It wasn’t often that witches and wizards could imbue feelings into an object; and even less often into a living organism. He really must be a powerful wizard. As you place the vase onto your windowsill, a small frown mars your lips. How are you going to pay him back?

Suddenly, a thought crosses your mind. Swiftly, albeit carefully, you empty out his wicker basket and once it’s empty, you wave your hand; summoning small empty mason jars and your own blend of different tea leaves. The items soar towards you, and with another wave of your hand, they precisely land onto your kitchen counter. Eyes flicking over the different tea leaves, you promptly decide on three different blends - your most favourite ones. In the first one, you scoop in your special blend of cardamom, nutmeg and cinnamon: the laden scent of aromatic spices diffusing into the air and flooding your senses as you fill the jar. The second one, you fill with a blend of chamomile and jasmine; a soft aroma of a floral fragrance replacing the previous, headier one.

With the first two done, you turn your attention to the third, and final one. A mischievous glint flashes in your eyes. Lavender and oolong. A fine homage to his own gift. Opening up the last container, you fill up the last mason jar: the delicate, fresh scent of the lavender intermingling with the sweet, elegant one of oolong. When you’re done, you quickly shut all three jars, wrapping the neck of the containers in a satin ribbon, before attaching a manila label to them. Summoning a pen from one of your drawers, you quickly scrawl on the names of the teas in blue ink.

Once your thank you present has been packed, you cover them with the cloth and grab the handle of the basket, before making your way back out. As you step into the cold once more, the gelid air kisses your skin, causing a soft shiver to run down your spine. Huddling further into your fur coat, you begin walking in the general direction of Namjoon’s home. You’ve no idea what it looks like, or how far it realistically is. Yoongi had mentioned a ten, perhaps fifteen minute walk, but considering you didn’t know the forest very well yet, you weren’t sure how long it would take. You hope it really is a ten to fifteen minute journey. And, of course, that you don’t get lost.

Thankfully, after faithfully sticking north-west, it’s not long before you happen upon what you believe to be Namjoon’s home. The glade of the property is similar to yours: the dense woodland clearing up into an open expanse. In the middle, and a little towards the left, sits a quaint little cottage; with a gambrel roof made of dark brown wood shake, and stone walls of greyed-white to match. Unlike your home, this one has large square windows around the entire property, allowing thick shafts of light to filter through. Yet, despite the panes of glass, you can’t see into the building: the thick cotton curtains blinding your view of the interior.

The area surrounding the cottage is wild, and almost overgrown - in a strange, coordinated way. An organised mess if you would. Small trees skirt the property, growing near the moss-clad, brick fence that separates the forest from Namjoon’s own land, while smaller brushes and shrubs litter the spaces between. One section is covered in flowering perennials, another with potted plants and herbs, and the last third with low growing blossoms. Eyes widening at the sight, you take in a deep breath, only to be filled with a renewed sense of vigour.

Breath hitching in the middle of your throat, you look at the property in surprise. The magic in the air is thick; so palpable that you feel the very cells of your being begin to vibrate with power. Not only is it potent, however, but also pure - the quality of life’s essence so refined that it’s almost suffocating. In fact, you have to physically keep your magic in check, lest it fritz and grow out of your control. Taking a deep breath, you purposely subdue your inner magical core - dulling it towards the vigor of the energy in the air.

Fingers clenching around the woven handle of the basket, you grip it tighter as you step onto the property, a faint ripple of nervousness fluttering through you. With the potency of magic in the air, you desperately hope you don’t trigger any protective wards surrounding the land. When you safely cross the boundary between the forest and Namjoon’s home, your shoulders tense and you immediately come to a halt. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on edge, and a nervous edge tinges at the corners of your being as you wait for something to happen.

After a few moments of silence, you let out a relieved breath. The wards, if there are any, have accepted you. With that knowledge, you begin your descent down the brick path, from the outskirts of the property and towards the arched front door. Stopping by the dark wood entrance, you lift your hand and gently rap your knuckles on the surface, before stepping away as you wait for an answer. Long, drawn out moments pass, and when you get no response half a minute later, a frown descends upon your lips.

Is he not home?

Lifting your fist, you knock once again; and just like before, you don’t get an answer. Eyebrows furrowing in confusion, you shuffle to the side and towards a window. Then, stepping onto the tips of your toes, you attempt to peek into Namjoon’s home; looking for any signs of life. However, with the curtains drawn shut - only a sliver of an opening between the two, thick pieces of fabric - you barely have a sufficient view of the inside. Shoulders drooping, you let out a deep exhale and flick your gaze down to the wicker basket in your grasp. If he’s not home, there’s nothing you can do about it.

Disappointment settles into your bones, and for a moment, you consider abandoning your gift on his front porch - just like he’d left his. The thought only lasts a brief moment, however, because suddenly, you hear a small commotion from the back of his home. Startling at the muffled cluttering noise, you raise your eyebrow. Maybe he ishome. Intrigued by the noise, you follow after the sound. It leads you around the perimeter of his home, and getting towards the back, surprise colours your face as you see another building behind his cottage.

The emporium is fairly small, almost the size of a large shed, and made of a beautifully preserved walnut: the timber panelling still ripe with its rich colouring. Walking further towards the building, and to the front, you come to a halt at the entrance. Large panes of glass fill up the front wall, but in spite of the glass, your view of the interior is partially obscured: the dark-tinted, translucent surface preventing your complete view into the shop. Two large pots of firs sit on either side of the door, and just above the tips of the tree, hangs a banner made of dark linoleum. ‘The Blackthorne Codex’ it reads; the letters gleaming in burnished shades of bronze under the stark brightness of the sky.

Steadily, you approach the shop, and placing your hand on the brass handle, you push it open. The tinkle of a bell chimes through the air, and the moment you enter, you're assaulted by an onslaught of sensations. A balmy heat greets you immediately, the warm air rushing past your face and immediately heating up your numb skin. Following the heat is a sacchariferous fragrance: notes of a fruity tartness flooding your senses. Currents of a warm, woody scent coalesce with the stronger aroma; the piquant spiciness of what you know to be cloves weaving with that of dried black cherries into an amalgamation of intoxicating aromas. The incense is strong - almost overpowering - and wholly unique: perhaps a blend of his own concoction. It's so potent in fact, that you can almost taste it on the tip of your tongue: tinges of a pungent sweetness dyeing your tongue and causing you to salivate.

"Sorry, I'll be with you in a moment." The deep voice comes out of nowhere, the sound breaking the silence and causing you to jump.

Taking heed of the voice, however, you walk further into the shop, simultaneously letting go of the door handle and allowing it to shut behind you. Once you're into the heart of the shop, prickles of heat sting at your skin, the chilled surface quickly warming up - and from the magic charged in the air, you have no doubt it's thanks to some warming enchantment. Carefully placing your woven basket onto a table near you, you unclasp the heavy cloak around your shoulders before quickly shrugging it off and draping it over your arm. With the thick material off of your body, you let out a sigh of relief - your body quickly cooling down.

More comfortable with the temperature, and with the man - who you assume to be Namjoon - still keeping you waiting, you take a moment to look around the shop. Neatly stacked shelves of mahogany line the entire perimeter of the shop, the surfaces chipped and faded with age. Nonetheless, despite their worn appearance, they're not decrepit. Rather, they're antique - with a rustic feel to them. Glass containers of all sizes line the shelves: large jars of preserved tree barks and animal products occupy the top shelves, smaller sized flasks of various herbs, botanics and minerals fill the next few ledges; and little vials and ampoules of oils, extracts and essences litter the final racks. Each one is faithfully marked with a black label, the nature of their contents scrawled in gold ink.

Hand sketched drawings are strewn across the very tops of the walls, the drawings depicting a variety of beautifully illustrated, and incredibly detailed, plants and flowers. Looking closer at them, you can even spot labels, along with scrawled annotations, pointing out to different parts of the plants. They’re vivid, and colourful: the dazzling hues contrasting with the darker shades of the interior. Turning your gaze, you carefully peer at the counter that separates you from the back of the shop.

Similar to the rest of the store, it's made up of wood, with a white marble tabletop that offsets the walnut wood of everything else. One half of the wall behind is filled with a stack of drawers, each one labelled in black ink; the other half holding a door that undoubtedly leads to the back. A cash register sits in the left corner; the till glinting in polished shades of murky gold and varnished oak. On the opposite side, sits a small book rack stacked with aged tomes and grimoires. Next to it, are a few pestles and mortars, some made of marble while others are made of stone - each one with its own specific purpose.

As you’re admiring the interior, a man suddenly slips out from the back. He appears out of nowhere, causing you to jump. The moment you spot him, however, you freeze. He’s tall. Incredibly so. And his size is only emphasised by the corded, bulging muscles that fill his frame. He’s dressed in black leather trousers - the tight material clinging to his full thighs - and with each step he takes, you could swear the material threatens to tear. Moreover, the snugness of his trousers only emphasise the length of his legs: the toned limbs seemingly going on forever. His top is simple, a plain white t-shirt. Yet, despite the simplicity of it, you find yourself swallowing thickly.

Similar to his trousers, the cotton fabric of his shirt clings to his broad chest, highlighting the smooth, yet prominent, outline of his pecs. From how taut the material is, the garment straining against his upper body, you can spot the faintest hint of his dark nipples - the sight of them causing your cheeks to tinge with specks of heat. A simple leather apron is tied around his hips; the hide straps emphasising his trim waist and slender hips. Gaze travelling further up his body, your eyes lock onto his, and this time, you gulp audibly.

He is, perhaps, the most handsome man you’ve ever laid your eyes upon.

And you’ve traversed the world.

Tanned skin - as smooth and delectable as dulce de leche - glows under the ivory light filtering through the window. It casts a halo of argentate around him - the silvery hue juxtaposing his delicious, honey-kissed skin in the most enchanting way. Dark locks of silk, as black as coal, fall in choppy waves around his face, the front tips kissing his eyelids, and the back ends grazing the nape of his neck. They frame his face, accentuating the elegant slant of his cheekbones, the gentle slope of his nose, and the angled definition of his jaw. His eyes are hooded, and heavy, with a deep-set crease at the inner corners that only highlight the sharpness of them.

Irises of obsidian peek from between his keen eyes, the inky depths freckled with specks of silver and jade that only add to his allure. Eyes glimmering, he radiates an air of power: waves of soft, yet dominant, energy seeping off of his being. If you didn’t know better, you would say his aura practically thrummed with the same lively essence of the very forest itself. Sucking in a sharp breath, the cloying scent of black cherries and cloves floods your senses as you lock eyes, and effortlessly, you sink into his dark gaze.

A look of surprise paints his features, and in a once over, his stare sweeps over you. In one, long glance, he takes you in in your entirety, from the very tips of your boots, to the top of your head, and then back onto your face. His features are carefully stoic as he observes you - his eyes giving nothing away. But then, all of a sudden, it changes. A strong, thick eyebrow rises, and sensual, voluptuous lips pull into an impish, lop-sided grin. It’s wolfish, practically predatory, and almost as if he could devour you whole with a single look.

In two, swift strides, he moves closer, and pressing both hands onto the edge of the marble counter, he grins at you. The movement draws your attention, and your gaze immediately flicks from his eyes and towards his sinewy arms. So enamoured by his handsomeness earlier on, you hadn’t noticed the identical tattoos that brand each of his biceps. Three bands make up each tattoo. The outer ones are simple - embellished with geometric patterns and alchemical runes - and made up of the blackest ink; the colour so rich, it soaks up the light into its ebon void. Framed by the two simplistic bands, however, is an inner one - this tattoo more intricate, and vibrant. Thick, unassuming vines of pine-green form the bulk of the design, with supple foliage of fern-green and moss engraved between.

“Hello. Welcome to The Blackthorne Codex. I’m Kim Namjoon.” The man greets. His voice breaks you out of your trance, and instantly, your eyes lock back onto his. Then, features twisting into one of apology, “Sorry about the wait. I had a slight issue with some stock in the back. How can I help you?” he asks.

For a moment, you simply stare at him, your mind completely blank, and your face effectively illustrating it’s emptiness. His voice is low, and baritone, with a mellifluous undertow that threatens to drag you under and drown you in its beguile. Of course, the enchanting lure of his magic does nothing to help. Neither of you say anything, Namjoon waiting for you to reply, and you waiting for your mind to process the Adonis-like man in front of you. Eventually, and once you realise he’s staring at you, your brain finally kicks itself into gear.

“Oh. Oh!” you quickly splutter out, your cheeks tinging with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I just didn’t… expect you to be so young,” comes your reply.

Arching an eyebrow, “Young? I’m twenty-eight years old,” he replies, a playful inflexion to his voice as his smirk deepens. Finally getting a hold of yourself, you simply roll your eyes, a coy smile curling onto your own lips.

“Hmmm. Well, when I heard about the man who lived in the forest, and was dropping off welcome gifts at my house, I couldn’t help but assume he was an old man,” you counter. That has Namjoon pausing.

“Wait. You’re ____? The Witch of Ruin?” he asks, his strong eyebrows disappearing into his hairline as he gazes at you in incredulity.

Taken aback by his surprise, you cock your head to the side, “Is that such a surprise?” you ask while lightly waving him off. Scoffing in response, he simply shrugs.

“I just expected you to be…” he begins, only to halt as he ponders his next words. After a short pause, “More menacing,” he finishes.

Once again, you roll your eyes, before waving your hand dismissively, “Well, I guess we both had incorrect assumptions about each other.”

“Touche,” Namjoon laughs. “So, what brings you to my humble apothecary? Need ingredients so soon, already?”

Placing your basket onto the counter, you slide your present over to him. “Hmmm, no. I come bearing a thank you gift,” you reply. Namjoon chuckles, and for a moment, you feel your abdomen stir with a fuzzy warmth. The sound of his laughter is enchanting: deep, rich, and thick like honey as it drips from his mouth like viscous ambrosia. His eyes flash with mirth, and he angles his head down to look at you through his sharp, hooded eyes.

“A thank you gift in response to my ‘welcome to the neighbourhood’ one? Your parents must have raised you right,” he jokes. His tone is light, and airy, and you know he means well - realistically knowing nothing of your past. Yet, you still find yourself gracing him with a rueful smile. Though, there’s only a faintest hint of bitterness laced through it.

“They did. Up until their final moments,” you respond. At your words, Namjoon immediately halts, and visibly, you watch every single one of his muscles locking; the corner of his jaw simultaneously twitching.

Face immediately dropping, Namjoon glances at you for a moment - his eyes carefully guarded, and giving away none of his inner thoughts. Unconsciously, you bristle; in preparation for his pity, and the meaningless words that tend to fall out of people’s mouth when you speak of your traumatic childhood. They mean well. You know they do. But it’s been close to sixteen years. And you’re tired of the constant condolences and well wishes. Tired of the way they walk on glass around the issue of your parents. After all, you’ve long since come to terms with it.

To your utter surprise, however, Namjoon’s face immediately relaxes, and his - what you assume to be trademark at this point - wolfish grin once again creeps onto his pillowy lips. “Well, then I’m sure they’re happy you’ve retained your manners then. Or they’d probably rise from their graves and haunt you,” comes his breezy response. That’s it. No ‘I’m sorry’s’ or sympathetic looks, or that tone people take when they find out you’re an orphan. Just a lighthearted joke. Perhaps, to someone else, he may seem insensitive. Perhaps, someone else would be offended. But you? You appreciate it more than he could, or would, ever know.

“Hmmm. Considering my mother was a necromancer… you’re right. She’d definitely be the type to raise herself from the dead just to lecture me on societal etiquette,” you deadpan - your voice purposely flat as you retort. Eyes bugging wide, Namjoon splutters as he chokes on his own spit.

“A necromancer? Please tell me you’re joking,” he replies, a look of bewilderment colouring his visage. Features twisted almost comically, it’s all you can do to laugh.

“Of course, I’m joking! What do you take my mother for? She birthed the Witch of Ruin. There’s no way she’d be foolish enough to practice necromancy,” you laugh in response. Hearing your reply, Namjoon immediately relaxes, and seeing the relief on his face, you can’t help but laugh harder. Necromancy was a false school of witchcraft, one only perpetrated by humans who wished they could practice magic. However, they had one thing wrong. There was no magic that could raise the dead. None.

After all, magic came from nature, and the cosmos, and life itself. It’s why most, if not all, witches and warlocks worship some aspect of the natural universe. Some worship the sky, others the sea, a few the mountains, and many the earth and forests. But no self-respecting practitioner of the Magic of Old, would ever worship the dead. Or even consider bringing the dead back to life. Mostly because it was an impossible feat.

Once a living creature reaches the end of its life, the magic that sustains it fades away. Instead, it returns back to the universe, only to be rebirthed into a new form of life. Sometimes that’s in humans - the species having faint tethers to the universe - or what they’d call their ‘souls’. Sometimes, it’s in witches and warlocks - a child born particularly talented in an archetype of magic. More often than not, though, it’s into the very cosmos, as the sea, or the plants, or the stars. Or really, any component of life, or power, that makes up the universe.

“You have me there,” Namjoon concedes with a chuckle. Then, turning his attention to your gift, he gestures towards it. “So, what do we have here?”

Cheeks flushing with heat, you pull your lower lip between your teeth and begin to chew on it while Namjoon unravels the cloth from the wicker basket. When he spots the three, neatly wrapped jars, he flicks his gaze to you in surprise. Suddenly feeling far too self-conscious - was the gift too much? - you suppress an awkward smile. “I don’t know if you drink tea… but these are some of my own special blends,” you explain, your voice a few decibels above a whisper, and laced with your unsureness.

You watch as Namjoon picks up one of the jars, only to open the lid and take in a deep breath of the aromatic fragrance. “God… that smells good. Is that lavender… and oolong?” he asks, his eyebrows rising in surprise.

Floored by his deduction, “How did you even… you can barely even smell the oolong,” you point out. You’re not lying. The scent of lavender is always strong - and overpowering - and no matter what ratios you blend of the two ingredients, you can’t seem to find a way to bring out the oolong. At your obvious shock, Namjoon laughs.

“I spent my day tending plants, or selling them, ____. I know what most of them look, and smell, like. Even if it’s subtle,” he replies.

Intrigued by his words, you look at him curiously. “If you don’t mind me asking… what school of witchcraft do you practice?”

Snapping the lid back onto the jar, he places it back into the basket. Then, eyes flashing mischievously, his lips curl into a teasing smirk. Gazing at you with his smouldering eyes, “How can you not tell? Weren’t you raised by the Sisters of Elysia? I thought they were supposed to be incredibly knowledgeable. Or perhaps… they don’t hold a candle to the Brotherhood of Requiem,” he provokes. Jaw dropping in surprise, you instantly bristle.

“W-What’s that supposed to mean?” you splutter in indignation. “The Brotherhood of Requiem is not better than the Sisters of Elysia,” you continue with a hiss.

“Hmmm… not if you can’t guess what my magic is,” he backfires easily. Huffing at his response, you roll your eyes. Though, there’s no real ire to it.

“Well it’s obvious you practice Herbalism. But with the potency of the magic surrounding you, that can’t be all you practice,” you reply smartly.

Laughing, “I guess you’re right. Botanic Arts. I also practice the Botanic Arts,” he explains. Ah. That would explain the aura of life that surrounds him.

Contrary to your Destructive Arts - a discipline that was focused on elements of chaos, such as lightning or fire, in order to bring about calamity; the Botanic Arts was a discipline focused around the elements of life, such as earth and nature, in order to bring about life. Nonetheless, even with their juxtaposing natures, they were both two incredibly powerful schools of witchcraft, and if used correctly, even the Botanic Arts could be wielded as a cataclysmic magic. A notion only emphasised by his incredibly imposing presence; as well as his sheer confidence.

“How about you?” he asks, his words breaking you out of your thoughts.

Lips twisting into a wry smirk, “How can you not tell? Weren’t you raised by the Brotherhood of Requiem?” you mock, throwing back his own words at him.

With a snort, Namjoon looks at you pointedly. “Well, everything I know about you is from rumours. The witch of ruin, a child of chaos, birthed from lightning and fire. So… I’m assuming you’re proficient in the Destructive Arts. But… considering you just brought me tea leaves I doubt it’s just that,” he says, imitating your own sentiments. Tongue poking out, you swipe it across your lips as you feel the corners of your lips twitching.

“Alchemical Restoration. The teas have healing properties,” you reply as you try to suppress your grin.

You can’t help it.

Namjoon is unlike any other witch or warlock you’ve ever met. In your life, you’ve travelled the world, and you’ve met many of your kind; from all different walks of life. As such, you’re not new to a little flirtatious banter, nor were you unknown to the pleasures of sex, or a budding romance. Nonetheless, it was rare for it to go past that. The moment they found out who you were, who you truly were, they would immediately lose interest in you - either by their own jealousy, or intimidation, or insecurities that you were most likely better, and more powerful, than them.

However, here was a man, who knew who you were, and still continued showing an interest. Or well, at least what you hoped was interest. Though, with the way his eyes subtly roam over your figure every now and then, and with how he keeps his attention focused on you, and only you, you doubt you’re wrong. Namjoon is different. Because even knowing who you are, and knowing about your past, his demeanour hasn’t changed. He’s not the least bit intimidated, nor insecure, or resentful. If anything, you have a feeling you’ve only stoked his interest. And that has a fuzzy warmth blooming within the pits of your stomach.

“A remedial discipline? Didn’t take you for the type,” comes his immediate answer. Then, eyes flashing in mirth, “Though… I can’t say I’m mad. I don’t even want to thinkabout what your gift would be if you just practiced the Destructive Arts… perhaps you’d set my apothecary on fire for daring to intrude on your property?” he teases, and as the words slip out of his mouth, you can’t help but hear the flirtatious intonation.

Your conversation is ordinary, and full of pleasant niceties. Yet, buried between both your tones, is a touch of something deeper; something heavier. Perhaps it’s the playfulness of his entire demeanour, or the coquettish nature of your own replies. But no matter what it is, you can’t help but feel the spark between the two of you. You don’t know where it’s come from, or why. After all, you’re both strangers, and this is your first time meeting. Nevertheless, you can’t help but feel drawn to him - a baser need, something more corporeal pulling you towards him. A flutter of excitement flits through you,

In response to his words, you childishly stick your tongue out. Then, “Yes, well, as much as I adore the Destructive Arts and the power trip that comes with it… I’ve just… somewhat grown tired of it,” you find yourself confessing - the words falling from your lips before you can even stop them. That has Namjoon’s devilish disposition dropping, his features twisting into one of inquisitiveness.

“Oh? Why is that?” he asks.

Once again, and before you even realise what you’re saying, you find yourself shrugging. “Honestly? I don’t know if I ever really even wanted to learn the Destructive Arts. But after my parent’s coven was destroyed, and once the Knights of the Seven Lights began hunting me… I had no other choice, you know? I learnt it because I had to. Because I needed to survive. It was born out of my need to prove something… that I could endure everything, and that I would still come out on top,” you confess. All of a sudden, you pause.

Eyelids widening in the slightest, you quickly halt your tongue as you realise what you’d just blurted out. It’s not often that you talk about your past. You’re over it. Or well, you’re more numb to it. But it wasn’t often that you brought it up - wanting to leave the past… well, in the past. Hell, the only reason the Sisters of Elysia had known, was because they’d saved you from that life. But you never spoke about it. At least, not of your own accord. And certainly not to a random stranger you’d just met. So really, you’re not sure why you’d suddenly, and completely out of the blue, truthfully spoken about your past. Especially in a casual meeting like this.

Nonetheless, something about him calls to you. You don’t know what it is, and you can’t accurately place it. But there’s something about him that you find reassuring. He’s a stranger, and realistically, you know nothing about him. Yet, still, you can’t help but trust him. There’s an air of power around him, yes. It pulses around him in an enticing fashion: a refined aura of magic that is both completely sensual, and commanding. However, woven between that presence, is a sense of solace. The kind that’s filled with a promise of safety, and home. The kind you’ve been desperately searching for all your life. It beckons to you, and effortlessly, you find yourself magnetised to him.

Momentarily, Malise’s words echo in the back of your mind. About how you’d find your soulmate here, and fleetingly, you wonder if it’s him. A part of you is desperate for him to be. For him to be the one you call your home. Yet, even with that yearning that tingles through you, you can’t bring yourself to put any real hope on it. He’s enchanting, and you’re completely enamoured by him. But that doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s your one. The universe has a twisted sense of humour, and seldom did it ever play to one’s hand. Soulmates aren’t perfect. And just because you’re fated for someone, doesn’t mean that you’d work out. Love wasn’t that simple. Thus, with the attraction that you do feel for him already, a weird, twisted part of you doesn’t wantto know. Just in case, he’s not the one destined for you.

A heavy air befalls the two of you; the tension intensifying until it’s so thick that you almost suffocate within its hold. Jittery under the sudden pressure, your hands turn clammy as you begin shuffling from foot to foot. You want to say something, to make a casual joke and immediately diffuse the stiffness in the atmosphere. Nonetheless, your throat is tight, and your mouth dry, and you simply can’t bring yourself to force the words out. Sensing your awkwardness, however, Namjoon quickly comes to your aid. The corners of his lips tugs, and the plush petals of his mouth pull into an easy smile as he points back towards your gift.

“Well, they seem really well-made, and I can already tell just how high quality these are. I’m looking forward to trying them,” comes his airy response. Then, after a brief pause, an impish smirk teases at his lips. “... And giving you my honest opinion,” he taunts. A sense of relief washing over you at the return of his playful demeanour, and with the tension quickly diffusing, you grace him with your own coy grin.

“I’m sure you’ll find them to your standards. It’s not like I could give you something subpar after your lavish present, after all,” you counter. Eyes lighting up suddenly, “Which, speaking of high quality, the lilacs and lavender… where did you get them?” you question. A deep, throaty chuckle emanates from the middle of Namjoon’s chest, and you watch his speckled onyx eyes glint in amusement.

“I didn’t get them anywhere. I grew them myself,” he responds. Taken aback by his answer, you blink at him owlishly. He’d… grown them himself? Well. You hadn’t been expecting that. Though, now that you think about it, it makes sense. Initially, you’d thought that perhaps he’d only enchanted the lilacs, in order to keep them blooming. However, with the sheer life imbued into them, you realise that for that level of magic, he’d probably have to grow them himself. Which, with his mastery in the Botanic Arts, paired with his expertise of Herbalism, would be a feat easier said than done.

With a fleeting glance, you flick your gaze around his shop, only to catch his eye once again. “Do you grow most of your stock?” you ask, astonishment evident in your voice. Once again, Namjoon chuckles, before nodding easily.

“A lot of it, yes. If not most. The things I can’t grow, I have to source from the human settlements. Though, it’s mostly animal products or minerals,” he begins, a look of thought crossing his face. “The minerals, because I don’t have time to go mine for that… Nor do I want to,” he laughs. “And I can’t bring myself to hunt for animal products myself because everytime I do, I end up not wanting to hurt them and letting them go. So I rely on humans a lot for those kinds of things. It’s why, unlike the rest of the coven who lives deeper into the forest, I live closer towards the edge… and also why I’m your only neighbour,” he continues his explanation.

Mouth forming an ‘o’, “That makes sense,” you reply.

“Why do you live so close to the edge? I’m sure High Priest Torin would have offered you a home in the coven’s territory?” Namjoon questions.

With a nonchalant shrug, “I just needed a change I guess. With the Sisters of Elysia being nomadic, we never had an actual home. And so we’d always live in temporary homes while sharing living spaces. Moving here, I knew I kinda just wanted some more privacy, you know?” comes your answer. Once again, there’s nothing but truth in it, and internally, you wonder just what kind of bewitchment he’s cast on you, for you to be so honest. Though, it’s probably just his natural charm.

“Plus, I’m focusing more on my Alchemical Restoration, and I want to be able to help as many people as I can. Both, our coven, and the humans in the country,” you continue. Then, letting out a sigh, “Except… I’m still new to the area and the Forest of Ingredeen is huge and I have no idea where the human settlements are,” you finish. Then, after a small pause for thought, “Other than the Sundale settlement, that is,” you ponder out loud.

“Oh. There are a total of five in the entire country, and they all border the Forest of Ingredeen since it’s the oldest and most ancient woodland,” Namjoon points out. Taking his hands off of the counter, he shuffles towards the book rack on the tabletop, and pulling out a large scroll from the corner, he unravels it flat onto the surface. A large map greets you; the parchment yellowed and the ink faded with time. Still, you can make out all the details of the cartograph. It’s of Carelia, you note, with the human settlements clearly illustrated, as well as the paths to them.

“These are the general routes that you can traverse. Though, not all of them are in use anymore. And newer ones have been created. There’s also no real roads to follow,” Namjoon explains, a small frown marring his lips. Then, flicking his gaze towards you, he looks at you through hooded eyes. “If you’re free tomorrow, I can show you around? I doubt anyone knows these woods as well as me” he boasts.

Lips pulling into a flirtatious smile, you loll your head to the side before cocking your eyebrow. “Like a date?” comes your glib suggestion. Your voice is light, and airy, and your tone completely casual. And of course, you don’t expect him to actually agree. Still, to your complete disappointment, Namjoon shakes his head

“Not like a date,” comes his quick response, his voice causing ripples of devastation to tinge at your being. However, “A date,” he continues. Instantly, your disappointment is replaced with delight, and your heart simultaneously flutters.

Pulling your lower lip between your teeth, you chew on the soft petal in a bid to suppress your grin. “I’ll look forward to it.”

a/n: SCREAM god fneorngeoirgnoeig i dont know why that was so long when absolutely nothing happened but  i hope y’all liked it ahhh 🥺👉🏼👈🏼 i’m hoping to get the next part up next weekend but jfneronorign no promises rip ♡

⇥ Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Like my work? Consider buying me a Kofi!

[sharkmobster]

more funtime found family au stuff but this time focusing on funtime freddy and michael's relationship. it's incredibly rambly and turns into off-kilter dialogue but i gotta get this off my chest.

tw mentioned child abuse/death

• doesn't actually like michael (at first) even tho i draw them hanging around each other a lot

• bon bon is the only reason he does loaf around him. (bon bon and bonnet being the only ones who like Michael in the beginning.) They're attached to each other so it's inevitable that they would hang around mikey.

• ft freddy plays really mean spirited jokes on michael bc he's not allowed to harm him. he has to get real creative. (ft freddy has a lot of anger inside of him. people write him off as being dumb and goofy but really that's just a mask that he put up so he didn't scare people away. of course the funtimes know how he is, knows who he is right to his core bc they're all connected on a deeper/technological level.)

• (slaps funtime freddy. this bear can fit so much trauma and abandonment issues in him!)

• can be incredibly vindictive when he wants to be and takes out a lot of his agression on Michael. michael shares the afton name (bc he sure as hell doesn't look like william in my au lol) and that alone is enough for ft freddy to bully him.

• (the funtimes blame william for abandoning them so ft freddy takes it especially personal when his ankle biter comes around to "liberate" them. and on some deeper level freddy is just terrified that michael will abandon them all, just like willy did. he never voices this of course. opting to show his apprehension and fear in a more destructive way, pushing Michael further away.)

• canon ft freddy: sinister but still goofy and knows how to have a good time

my ft freddy: goofy and repressed anger issues, doesn't know how to enjoy himself without causing someone some kinda pain.

• michael gets fed up with being terrorized eventually and confronts him, and ft freddy drops the silly act for a bit just ready to blow up at him. (he can't even place why he's still so angry at michael when really he's been nothing but hospitable and accomodating to their wants and needs but fuck he's just so wound up he doesn't know what to do) michael compares him to william during the argument (cruel and vindictive just like william wanted) and ft freddy nearly rings his neck, absolutely seething but bon bon doesnt let that happen of course. (idk if this is confirmed canon but bon bon was designed to placate freddy. he raises his voice even slightly and bon bon's petting his face, stopping him from getting even more agressive)

• ft freddy shuts down after the confrontation ends (emotionally, anyway) and the blow out itself is completely anti climatic, nobody getting hurt. he ends up isolating himself from the others with bon bon hovering around like a concerned mother hen. Baby and the others give him space but michael (after he cools down anyways) won't leave him alone.

• See the thing is: Michael understands. Michael understands more than anyone what it's like to feel so deeply, what it's like to hate and hate and to keep hating until that rage is your whole life. It's suffocating. and he had to deal with that all on his own, choking on his own grief and rage without anyone to guide him. (his brother is dead bc of him and he carries that with him everywhere he goes, in everything he does.)

• They're living in the countryside of France at this point in time, far off from any wandering eyes, a thick forest surrounding their home. Freddy has a few hiding spots that he scouted out within the first few days of staying there. And that's where Michael finds him, hiding out in a small alcove by the a creek, throwing rocks at the trees (and sometimes wildlife).

• freddy doesn't aknowledge him, ignoring him like a child would and bon bon frets nervously between them, not wanting another fight to break out. Michael tells them that he's not here to fight anymore, he just wants to talk. you like to talk, don't you? and freddy doesn't say anything, running his fingers through the dirt, absentmindedly.

• michael asks bon bon to leave so that they can have a private convo and bon bon freaks out like absolutely not, he might hurt you and michael asks freddy directly like "are you going to hurt me?" freddy still isn't talkative, and he's rigid when he shakes his head no after a bit of silence. Bon Bon asks if he's alright with him leaving and freddy just shrugs, still staring at nothing in the distance. bon bon hesitates for a few moments before finally leaving, telling Michael to call out to him if he's in danger but michael rushes him along.

• it's just them now, nothing but the sounds of nature around them. michael asks how he's feeling and freddy shrugs again. Michael strikes up a one sided conversation, stepping closer and closer to him over time not really getting any kinda response out of him but eventually, during his rambling, freddy finally looks at him and says "Y-You just don't get-get it." and then goes back to the silent treatment.

• Michael's quiet, having made his way up to standing right next to freddy (he's only a tiny bit taller than him when he's just sitting like that). he nods his head, considering something for a while until finally he goes "Did I ever tell you about what it was like? Ya know. Being William Afton's golden child?" freddy doesn't say anything but he pauses from drawing circles in the dirt, tilts his head just a fraction to let mikey know he's listening.

• michael stares at the creek. "He wasn't the most outwardly loving father. Wasn't really the nicest one, either. But, I wanted his approval so bad, I'd do anything for it." Freddy slowly turns his head to watch him carefully. that's got his attention. "I did a bunch of stupid shit back then, all cause I wanted to be noticed by him. But all that attention went to my little-" and michael draws in a sudden breath, pained. stays silent for a moment, working up the courage to speak. "I did something awful to my brother. All for my father. And it's an awful thing to say but his death didn't matter. Pops didnt bat an eye and Mom was too far gone by that point after Elizabeth...." he looks back in the direction of the cottage. "Well.... you know what happened to Elizabeth." Freddy's stare is hard and unyielding. "He's gone now and I was the only one who cared enough. His fuckin' abuser cared more for his passing than his own father did."

• "He threw me into the basement. Did you know that?" Michael bounces from one foot to another, anxiety written into his very bones. he's lost in his rambling now, having never spoken these words out loud to anyone. "I killed his son and he locked me away in the dark for three years." Freddy fully turns to give Michael his undivided attention, stock still, hanging off of his every word. "I got out. Eventually. I ran away and lived on the streets for years until someone got a hold of me. Told me my old man was missing, presumed dead. Got a pretty penny from the fazbear business he co-owned with Mr. Emily. Things were going good, I guess. I was overwhelmed for the most part, didn't do anything other than bounce around from hotels every few days. In some way, I felt like he was still out there, watching me. I just kept running. And then i found out about you." He glances at freddy and looks away quickly when he finds an unblinking visage staring back. "Found out about all of you. Locked away in a storage facility for over 30 years. In the dark. All alone." an incredibly long silence stretches out between them, freddy fidgeting, hyperaware of every noise going on around them.

• "You think I don't get it. But I do. I think I understand you more than anyone could." Michael's staring back at him, raw emotion across his face, eyes soft with empathy and that's what makes Freddy turn away from him. Suddenly uncomfortable. "I don't want to fight with you. Not you. Not Ballora, or Foxy, or Eli-" He visibly winces, but regains his composure. "...I just... need you to understand that I want to help."

• Freddy's never been so quiet, and it's such an odd sight. Michael's not sure if he should say anything else or if he should leave the bear alone. the bear speaks up, finally "W-We could've kill-killed you."

• "That was always a possibility, yeah. I woulda deserved it." Freddy's not sure if he likes the way Michael talks about himself sometimes. "I needed to get you guys out of there, though. That was more important than whatever could've happened to me." Michael huffs. "Besides, if I hadn't bailed you guys out then I would've never gone to Paris. Ballora has good taste in real estate, I think." and despite everything, freddy lets out a sudden breath that could've been mistaken for a sensible chuckle. Michael smiles anyway.

• Things settle down afterwards, though there's no bite to Freddy's jokes now. They're not as close as Michael wants, Freddy still keeping his distance, keeping his walls up but it's something.

• Freddy starts watching horror movies with him late into the night and until dawn. Doesn't let Michael sleep in afterwards and he might just regret this but it makes Freddy happy. Things go back to normal in the cottage, as normal as things can be for a motley troupe like them anyways. Michael starts laughing at his jokes more.

[dreaming-of-assclass]

Oooooo if 3-E were supernatural creatures who would be what 👀👀👀

Oooohh this is interesting to think about! I’m sorry, I don’t know a lot haha so I did some research to have more options!!

Karma: Demon

I feel like I don’t need to elaborate on this too much lmao. The boy is mischievous, LOVES to mess with mortals for no reason. When he’s feeling a particularly strong emotion, usually rage, excitement, etc, his eyes glow a shade of yellow-gold (like what canon showed)

Isogai: Demi-God

His crazy perfection in everything has to come from somewhere. His father was a God who left his realm and lost his immortality to be with Isogai’s mother, a mortal. Isogai only became aware of his heritage after his father’s passing.

Okajima: Half-Angel

LMAO I mostly picked this for the irony, but it kinda fits ngl. He’s generally a good, loyal, kind person and a very good friend. His perverted nature is his one big flaw and comes from the influence of his mortal father, who was his main guardian since his mother remained on Heaven.

Okano: Werewolf

I’m gonna credit this one to @greengargouille haha. They made a wonderful post about this idea that I still adore with my whole heart. But yeah, Okano being a badass werewolf with crazy athleticism and defying femininity expectations? Yes please.

Okuda: Witch

She excels in potion-making, of course. She comes from a long line of witches and magic-users in her family. So she feels quite a bit of pressure to be successful. She’s very talented but needs a tad bit more of control in her magic.

Kataoka: Mermaid

This one shouldn’t be a surprise haha. She’s a very strong and powerful swimmer...but where does all that raw talent come from? Surprise, Megu is a mermaid and she can transform between her physical forms at will. She loves the water because it’s her home and what she knows best.

Kayano: Part-Phoenix

I don’t know how this works and how someone can be part-Phoenix lmao, but it fits her way too well. A being that goes out in flames and starts a new life...isn’t that basically what Kayano did after her reveal? Her new life is her going by Akari again and showing her true colors to the class.

Kanzaki: Goddess

She’s apart of a very royal family of gods...all with ridiculously high standards and little respect for her. Kanzaki is very powerful and has so much raw potential but she’s never been able to show it. Her best skills are teleportation, invisibility, and a strong grasp on aerokinesis.

Kimura: Centaur

I’m serious about this one lmao. He’s a very fast runner and impresses everyone, and it’s thanks to his strong physique and raw energy in centaur form. Don’t worry, he can shape-shift back to a human form, but he hates it because he loses his height and is back to being 160 cm.

Kurahashi: Fairy

Of course, this bright, sunny, cheerful sweet girl could only be a fairy. She has a very strong connection to nature and wildlife, to the point that if they’re harmed, she feels the pain. Her wings are very tiny at age 14 can easily hide underneath her clothes. But by adulthood, they’re grown and able to use for flight.

Nagisa: Half-Ghoul

Surprise...this soft boy is actually half-evil :’). His father is actually a ghoul, and Nagisa was very much unaware of it for all his life. Hiromi kept it a secret and tried to suppress that part of him too. Basically I imagine what it means for Nagisa is that death draws him, and his physiology is why he has such a high bloodlust. When he’s pushed to his limits, he’s terrifying... (cough Takaoka cough)

Sugaya: Wizard

He comes from a relatively average line of wizards, who all moved to the mortal realm and own artisan businesses. Sugaya wishes to do something similar and follow his passion for art. He mostly uses his magic for that, levitating his brushes, enhancing his work, creating new things. He’s quite talented at conjuring.

Sugino: Angel

Yes, I’m serious about this. Sugino is a very good person and always strives to lead others down the right path. He’s good at guiding, but even he wants to live for himself for once. So he learns what baseball is and grows a strong love for it.

Takebayashi: Wizard

Unlike Sugaya, he comes from a super prestigious line of successful and powerful wizards. His family is one of the top ones. He feels immense pressure to live up to them. His talents lie in fire magic, particularly creating explosions. And he’s a very skilled healer.

Chiba: Half-Dragon

Fitting considering his name 💜 He has the ability to change between his human and dragon form, but it’s very shaky for now. His eyes are a bright, terrifying shade of red, and it exposes his dragon heritage so he must hide it.

Terasaka: Half-Titan

His Titan physiology is the reason for his raw strength and physical prowess. He’s incredibly strong and has a high endurance, durability, stamina... He’s a talented fighter and will always use his advantage to protect his loved ones.

Nakamura: Siren

She hates being a siren so much. She has to deal with boring mortal guys all the time, who for some reason, love her voice. She gets a real kick out of fooling them though, and the pranks are always chaotic. Since she’s been having to sing and use her voice, she’s gotten the chance to learn many languages. She has an affinity for them, and wants to continue learning more.

Hazama: Witch

I know this is a little cliche. But in contrast to the potion-centered Okuda, Hazama excels in linguistic spells. She keeps a journal of every new one she learns, as well as images of herbs and such. She’s very interested in dark arts, but will only indulge in it with the presence of someone else, to make sure she doesn’t fall too deep.

Hayami: Witch

Wow I’m really repeating so many. Hayami is a very hardworking, talented witch. But she’s so focused on helping others, she tends to get taken advantage of unfortunately. She’s best at transfigurations, altering things to her (and others) liking. Her favorite test subject is Okajima. She’s quite talented in hand-to-hand combat and having kinetic vision, which helps in magic. She wants a cat as a familiar so badly.

Hara: Fairy

Hara says “fuck you” to the idea that fairies are traditionally small and frail. She’s proud of her physique and strength, and her interest in fighting. She’s still the sweetest fairy there could be, always looking after everyone and all of nature. She loves cooking and sharing it with as many people as she can find.

Fuwa: Ghost

Yep our crazy, lively Fuwa is a ghost! Specifically, she’s a poltergeist, the kind who try to create mischief in some way and move things around. The reason why Fuwa is kinda wild and open about her passions is so she can be noticed by people...if her presence isn’t being acknowledged, she loses her physical form and goes back to being a transparent spirit. It isn’t all bad though. Her favorite thing to do is read mangas in ghost form, so all people see is a floating copy of One Piece.

Maehara: Vampire

This one is a little cliche lmao, but he’s a vampire playboy who always ends up accidentally turning his girlfriends into vampires too with his bites. No one ever suspects him of being a vampire since he looks like sunshine incarnate. He’s quite reckless and has come close to being exposed multiple times, and Isogai always scolds him.

Mimura: Elf

Poor boy is a little insecure about being an Elf...he tries his best not to stand out, especially given his dad’s love for the spotlight. He is good at basic magic, slightly above average. His best talent and what he excels at is photokinesis. He uses it on his filming hobby, to change what’s on camera, adjust lighting, etc. He can go as far as even completely remove shadows from the sunlight.

Muramatsu: Alchemist

He comes from a relatively average family of alchemists that used their abilities for culinary purposes. He enjoys it a lot, and is very talented. He prefers to rely on physical prowess when it comes to fights, but is able to use his alchemy additionally.

Yada: Vampire

Yada is the hot vampire girlfriend we all wish we had 😔 Just kidding haha. But yes, she’s a vampire and no one would ever expect it with how good she is at hiding. She plans out her life and days to specifically avoid sunlight, garlic, etc. She’s a very busy member of the school community and has tons of friends and connections. She and Maehara, her fellow vampire, constantly compete to see who can get more dates.

Yoshida: Werewolf

This is slightly cliche since he’s the resident bad boy, but it fits. He tries to keep a tough image even in human form partly since his family taught him to do so, and because it is comfortable for him. But he’s a softie deep down, and is nowhere near as ruthless as he’s believed to be.

Ritsu: Magic Mirror?

Hmm this is kind of the only option I see fitting for her as it correlates to her role in canon. One classmate has to carry the mirror around for her to communicate, but she’s very powerful and helpful.

Itona: Mummy

Ok so storyline here: he was abandoned to die by his family centuries ago, and his 13 body was mummified against his will. In present time, Shiro awakens him, revives him, and uses him as a tool. He goes through a lot...but is able to live a peaceful life with 3-E once all that is over. He wears bandages almost everywhere, only exposing his eyes which glow yellow when he’s using his power.

Bonus:

Gakushuu is a Demi-God, of course. He’s pretty annoyed that his elemental magic only extends to hydrokinesis and cryokinesis, but he’s still amazingly talented.

Ren is a Merman who flirts with girls at the beach with sappy poetry. He’s gotten caught in a fisher net too many times.

Seo is an Ogre.

[bunjywunjy]

I saw a video where a bunch of people (I think for a class) put laxatives in cups and left it out for seagulls. What followed was absolutely hilarious.

yo I'm going to be brutally honest here, drugging wildlife for funsies is a sick and incredibly cruel thing to do.

it doesn't matter if it's a 'trash animal' like a seagull, or a fucking bald eagle. it's still deliberately causing harm to a living being that doesn't have the capacity to understand what you're doing to it.

also, birds have incredibly sensitive systems! it's very easy to accidentally hurt or kill them with drugs to the point where even trained vets can have trouble!

I'm sure you aren't trying to be cruel and probably thought those birds were fine, but who knows what happened to them later off camera?

basically what I'm getting at here is,

that's not funny.

[mustangshelby04]

Boston Boy - Safari

A little smut, a little fluff.... Might lead to something else along the way.

Kate looked up as her husband walked in the door.  She was on the floor in the baby’s room playing with Madison and Dodger.  Gally was sleeping in the living room on the back of the couch.  Kate’s stomach did a little flip at the sight of him.  Chris was looking incredibly sexy these days.  He had grown his hair out and let his beard get kind of shaggy for a new role he was filming soon and was also buffing up again to play Steve Rogers.  Kate found herself extremely attracted to the new look he was rocking.

“My girls!” Chris hopped down onto his belly on the floor, kissing Kate quickly before scooping Madison up as he rolled onto his back.  Madison squealed in delight, clapping her hands as he lifted her above him.

“You’re home early.” Kate said, laughing at Madison.

“Meeting ended early.  Thank god!” Chris brought his daughter’s belly to his face and blew a couple of raspberries, making her squeal again. “I have a surprise for you..”

“Me?  Really?”

“I know you’re not exactly huge on surprises….”

“I changed my mind a little bit on that.” Kate’s eyes drifted to Madison and Chris laughed.

“I guess so.” 

Kate stood up. “Ok, Jelly Bean, it’s time for your nap.”

“No.” Madison said.

“Your favorite word is going to get you in trouble one day very soon.”

“No.”

Chris laughed. “Come on, kiddo.” He got to his feet easily with their daughter and deposited her in the crib.  Madison started to tear up, but Chris shook his head. “Nope.  No water works.  It’s naptime.” He leaned down. “Mommy and I will be here when you wake up.” He kissed her and she threw herself back angrily.  Chris chuckled at his pouting daughter as Kate ran her finger down Madison’s nose lovingly. 

“Night-night, Maddie.” Kate flipped on the baby monitor and turned on the little speaker that played soft lullabies and she and Chris walked out with Dodger, closing the door until it was only open just a crack.

Dodger took off downstairs and Kate and Chris headed into their bedroom.  Kate shut the door, setting the monitor on her nightstand.  He grinned when she suddenly pulled him to her by the back of his neck, running her hands through his hair and giving it a little tug. “Can you please keep this look forever?”

“It’s really doing it for you, huh?” Chris asked, lips pressed against her neck. 

“Fuck yes, it is.” She took his hand and helped lead it up her shorts between her thighs.  Chris groaned at how wet she was and bit down on her neck. “Every time I see you, this happens.”

“Fuck, baby….” He bounced on the bed when she pushed him back.  Kate leaned over and began unbuckling Chris’ jeans.  He let out a groan as she pulled his jeans off and freed his erection, wrapping her hand and lips around him.  His hips jerked when she added some suction and his fingers dug into the comforter. “Shit….” Chris watched her bob up and down on him as he felt himself getting closer to the edge.  Just when he thought he was going to burst, she removed her lips from him with a quiet pop.

Without missing a beat, Kate stood up and removed her clothes as quickly as possible.  Chris yanked his shirt off and reached back to grab a condom from his nightstand.  He had barely rolled the thing on before Kate speared herself on him.  They both moaned at the feeling and he sat up, pulling her against him.  Her fingers raked through his hair again as his hands gripped her hips.  Soft curses fell from their lips as she ground down on him over and over.

Chris knew his wife’s body fairly well by now.  He knew she wasn’t going to get off with this position.  His arms wrapped around her waist and he stood up.  She let out a little squeal of surprise and held onto him as he knelt on the bed.  When he released her, they were in the center of the bed near the headboard.  Chris turned her around so she was facing the wall and took her hands in his, guiding them to the top of the headboard.

Kate gripped the wood tightly as he slid into her from behind.  His teeth sank into her shoulder and his hands held her hips tightly.  He set a bruising pace, needing her to find her end with him.  She growled his name among the string of f-bombs and he moved one of his hands around to cup her sex.  Two fingers slipped past her folds and began to rub the bundle of nerves there in a punishing rhythm.  Kate cried out pitching backward and shoving herself even further on him.  He sucked in a breath as he felt the tip of his dick hit her cervix.

“Right there.  Please.” Kate begged.

Chris kept up his pace until her walls suddenly clenched around him.  She shook through her orgasm, gripping the headboard so tightly it began to creak in protest.  A moment later, he lost his rhythm and shoved deep inside of her, filling the condom as she milked him through her long climax.  They stayed still for a moment.  The only movement was Chris’ left hand massaging her hip where he had held it tightly.

Finally, he pulled out of her and discarded the condom in the small trash can under his nightstand.  Kate stretched out on top of the comforter, looking like a sated sex goddess.  Her hair was splayed around her and her skin had the post-sex glow.  Chris stretched out beside her, running his fingers over her ribs and breasts.  She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair again. “God, I love this look on you.”

“Clearly.” Chris chuckled.

“I also prefer you with the chest hair.  Have I ever told you that?”

“I don’t think you have.”

“Steve Rogers is gorgeous and all, but he lacks your chest hair.” She ran her nails down his chest.  “I appreciate Ari Levinson so much right now.”

“The man playing him appreciates the view he’s getting right now.”

“You’re welcome.” Chris laughed. “So, you mentioned something about a surprise earlier?”

“I did.”

“Will you be telling me the surprise?”

“I will.” He kissed her. “You have to come downstairs, though.” Kate put on an oversized t-shirt and grabbed the baby monitor as Chris put on some sweatpants.  She followed him downstairs where a group of wrapped boxes were sitting on the coffee table in the living room.

“What’s the occasion?”

“Do I need one to give my wife a gift?”

“I guess not, but that’s not a gift.” 

“It all goes together, so technically it’s one gift.”

“Ok.” She sat down on the floor and began ripping into the paper on the first box closest to her.  It held an extremely expensive Canon EF 70-200mm f/4 L IS USM long lens. “Holy shit!  What’s this for?”

“Keep opening the boxes.”

Kate eagerly opened the next box and found a sturdy backpack for her cameras, lenses, and accessories.  The next box held a new Canon EOS 7D DSLR camera body. “Are you trying to turn me into a paparazzi?”

Chris laughed. “Fuck no.  Keep opening.”

She smiled and opened the next box.  It contained a stuffed elephant, a stuffed lion that roared when you squeezed it, and a large manilla envelope.  Carefully opening the envelope, she pulled out a large brochure with an itinerary and plane tickets.  The brochure and itinerary were for a twelve-day safari in South Africa and Namibia.  There were pictures of a luxurious tent that could be considered “glamping” instead of camping, various African wildlife, fancy picnics, massage tables on the African savannah, and a luxury resort.

“Chris….”

“I have a two-week break between pre-production and the start of filming.  My mom has offered to babysit Maddie for the twelve days and then fly her out to the set to be with us.” Chris walked over and sat down on the couch in front of her. “Let’s mark something off both of our bucket lists together.”

“You want to go on a safari, too?” “Since I was a kid.”

“I can’t believe you!”

“Are you mad?”

Kate suddenly launched herself up off the floor and into his arms. “You’re amazing!” She kissed him all over his face and lips as he laughed and held her tightly.

“I thought you could use a new camera for the experience and the man at the store said that lens would be the best for a safari.  You can get amazing pictures without putting yourself in harm’s way.”

“You are literally the best husband in the entire world.”

“I did good?”

“You did great!  This is probably the best present I’ve ever gotten.”

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Kate laid on her stomach, head resting lightly on her arms.  Chris was beside her on his side with his head propped up on his arm drawing light circles all over her bare back.  They were on the final night of their safari and had spent the day luxuriating in the spa of their resort.  They had seen so many amazing animals on their trip, Kate had taken over 2,000 pictures with her new camera and lenses, and they had even gotten to love on a baby elephant.  This was the perfect honeymoon they hadn’t taken after they had gotten married.

“I have a surprise for you.” Kate said, turning her eyes up to her very sexy husband.

“Yeah?” Chris leaned over to kiss her bare shoulder.

“Unfortunately, I have to get out of bed to get it.”

“That is very unfortunate.” His large hand roamed down her back and over the globes of her backside to slide one of his fingers between her legs.

“Mmm, but I really want to give you this present.”

“Give it to me after round two?”

“You’re ready for it now?”

“What can I say?  Being around all of these wild animals has brought the animal out in me.” He growled against her shoulder, biting down lightly as his finger began a slow in and out movement on her tender flesh.

Kate hummed happily, wriggling against Chris as he allowed more of his weight on top of her. “But it’s a really good gift.”

“Better than this?”

“Not better.  Different.”

He nipped at her shoulder again. “How far do you have to go?”

“The bathroom.”

Chris glanced at the door across the room and sighed. “That’s so far.”

“I’ll make it quick.” Kate wriggled out from under him and rushed to the bathroom.  He heard her digging in her bags for a minute and then she reappeared with one hand behind her back.  She slipped easily back into bed, taking up the same position she had left.  In her hand was a little black box that looked like a ring box and a navy blue folder with no markings on the outside.

“What are you plotting?”

Kate giggled. “Something major, of course.”

“Of course.” Chris sat up, crossing his legs in front of him.  She presented the folder to him first and he took it, dramatically taking a breath before opening it.  Inside was a realtor’s packet for a six bedroom house in Concord, Massachusetts.  There were also packets from an interior decorator and a contractor. “What….”

“Well, we’ve got to pick out color schemes and I really want an open floor plan for the kitchen, dining room, and living room.  The kitchen needs a massive overhaul to get it up to what I want.  I’m going to absorb one of the smaller bedrooms into the master bedroom as a walk-in closet and update the master bathroom.”

“Hold on…. You bought a house?”

Kate grinned. “I had your mom and Carly go on house tours and this one just spoke to all three of us.  The outside is perfect.  There’s a big yard in the back and it’s in a very quiet, nicely spaced out neighborhood….”

“You’ve seen it?”

“Yes.  I drove up two weekends ago when you were in LA.” She sat up, wrapping the sheet around her torso. “Are you mad?”

“No!  I’m impressed!”

“Really?”

“Yeah!”

“It won’t be ready for another two and a half months, but you’ll be done filming by then and we can move in when you get back.”

“This is amazing, Kat.”

“I really hope that you’ll like it.  Your mom was so helpful with this.”

“I already love it!” He leaned over and kissed her. “So, I’m assuming the keys are in that little box.”

“Actually, no.  You’re mom has the keys.” Kate held the box out to Chris. ���This is actually bigger than the house.”

“Are we getting shrunk down to fit in our house?” He teased.

She rolled her eyes playfully. “Just open it, dork.”

Chris took the box and opened it.  Inside was a tiny T-bone shaped device.  It took him a second to realize what he was looking at. “Is this….”

“My IUD.  Yeah.”

“Should I be grossed out?”

Kate sighed. “No!  This is supposed to be a romantic gesture.  It’s supposed to be me telling you that I’m ready to start trying when you are.  I’ve got birth control pills as a backup in case you’re not ready yet, but….”

“Throw them in the trash.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh god, baby,” He set the box down and gently held her face in his hands. “The thought of expanding our family is just…. It’s the most wonderful thing I can think of.”

Kate smiled happily. “I was so worried that you would be angry.”

“Why?”

“Well, I mean…. I didn’t consult you before I bought the house and took my IUD out.”

Chris laughed. “Kat, I would never in a million years be mad at you for this.  Please don’t ever feel like you need to consult me on every little thing.”

“I mean, this wasn’t exactly a little thing.  I should’ve at least consulted you on spending that much money.”

“Maybe, but we had already talked about doing this.  And I’m happy that you took the initiative.  Sometimes I’m not the best at making big decisions.”

“Case meet point,” Kate let the sheet slip away as she straddled Chris’ lap. “You buying our penthouse without telling me.” He chuckled as his lips found her collarbone.. “Yeah.  Like that.”

“You still up for round two?”

“Are you kidding me?” Chris glanced at his lap where his manhood was standing at attention.

“Good.  Me too.”

“Quick question.  Why did you wait until the end of the trip to tell me?”

“I didn’t want to spend our vacation planning the future.  I wanted to be present with you every moment.”

“Just when I think I can’t love you anymore than I already do, you go and prove me wrong.”

Kate grinned at her husband. “Shut up and kiss me.”

Tag List

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[skepticaloccultist]

The Sanctuary of the Witch

We have as a species spent an incredible amount of the last century ignoring what our greatest minds have often shown us, irrefutable evidence of our direct actions and the subsequent reaction of the earth's ecosystems.

The ecosystem of the earth is a single, vastly complex living organism, and we are a subset of organized cell clusters within that organism, much the way our own gut is lined with billions of bacteria we depend on to function as living organisms ourselves.

The algorithm we call evolution is the mathematical development of potential action over time, life organizing energy for distribution. The purpose of living is "life" itself, more of it, continually.

As a species one may consider the idea of the perpetuation of our species as the "goal" of all civilization. Keep humans alive, and reproducing. Unfortunately at this stage of late capitalism the forward "progress" of our species has become counter to the idea of perpetuating our species. We are letting idiots (capitalists) drive our own evolution, and these idiots are not able to adapt fast enough for our survival, and without adaptation a species becomes extinct.

As I write these words the world around me is gripped by immeasurable fear at the "pandemic" that is happening. The virus spreading around the world is little more than a flu in terms of its total death impact, and yet the globe is petrified in disbelief, western nations under "lockdown", with closed borders and curfews in major cities.

London is bubbling with the hysteria of masses, who ask some capitalist god to save them when all they need to do is learn to give people some fucking personal space and wash their own hands more. Soap, the yardstick of civilization.

But the natural world breathes a momentary sigh of relief as we are forced as a species to slow down, to consume less, travel less, produce less. Already our carbon output has lowered to our "2040 carbon goals", the atmosphere given 30 days respite from our horribly toxic industrial exhalations.

Here in the middle of this late stage capitalist meltdown we stand, witches, magicians, and wizards, looking out at the world in wonder and dismay, rueful grin at the side of our mouths trying to hold in an "I told you so" as best we can.

How does the witch respond to the catastrophe unfolding, the obvious war between the wealth hoarding dragons of our species and the natural world we serve? Which side should we be on, the humans or the virus?

These are questions I ask not of the reader, but of myself. Were do I stand in the attempt at nature to rectify the imbalance of our overly dense population clusters? Who should I be rooting for in this game of chance and death?

In the end I have decided that as a witch it is merely my responsibility to protect the land as best I can. To harbour its wildlife, to nurture its roots, to keep back the hand of mankind where I can from destroying its essence and its wild.

So I ask to each of you who work the landscape, to those hedge riders and night hags - cunning from country to city, that we each adopt a parcel or a plot, a forgotten triangle of green, a vacant lot. A woodland or a seashore that we may not own ourselves, but that we protect as fiercely as we can.

This protection should come from both our practice and from learning the ways of the world that influences our patch of soil. The laws and byways that may let the tooth and fang of developer bring harm, the clauses and circumstances that we might wield at a community meeting or town hall gathering to stop such as might bring an untimely end to our patch. Names and bits with which we might go later to our patch to request the service of some spirit who can sort out that person or this.

Once we have come to an understanding with a plot of land we must then make a pact with its spirit. This pact, of mutual interest and aide, is the center of our relationship with our land - an agreement by which we stand.

Let each worker of landscape magic take a piece of the earth, some enchanted spot or a bedraggled corner of broken concrete being consumed by the advancing green. Each a place we may sow seed, tend root, conjure spirit. An allotment as a temple of our practice, as a place we give safe harbour to that which finds man's presence to be disturbing.

The magic we seek is in the natural world around us, its presence permeates the landscape, woven into the fabric of space and time it echos with both the past and the future. The land is beyond the time we are bound to, and cares not which way we think the river flows.

Go find a plot to work, a bit of earth to stir with a wand into a circle. Learn to wait in this place, to listen to it. To the wind through its leaves and branches, over its grasses and stones. To the shape of the sky above it and the shadows it creates. Become a protector of the land, for the land is the sanctuary of the witch.

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

Yesterday was Steve Irwin’s birthday, and his memory was celebrated internationally. Steve was an incredible man who contributed a huge amount to public awareness about reptiles and who inspired a generation of conservationists. But on a day when he’s so heavily featured in the media, we also need to be able to acknowledge and discuss the problems his legacy has unintentionally caused.

Steve’s show popularized a way of interacting with wildlife that isn’t appropriate for non-professionals, and which is now considered unacceptable in most other situations. His fame came from the fact that he purposefully went out and, as we say on this blog, fucked with wildlife. As a trained animal professional, he was able to do that with a high standard for safety and with consideration for the welfare of the animals involved.

Unfortunately, because the planning and welfare concerns involved in filming the show weren’t visible to the public, one of the lasting impressions it left is that it’s fine to go mess with wild animals if you love them and know a bunch about them. Instances where people try to emulate his behavior are frequently responsible for injuries, deaths, and the displacement or euthanasia of the animals involved. Bothering wildlife simply for the pleasure of interacting with it personally is widely recognized as detrimental to welfare, but people frequently justify that it’s acceptable because their idol acted similarly.

Had Steve Irwin lived, I fully believe he would have changed his practices with the times. I’m sure he’d be appalled by the people who go pet / purposefully get injured by wildlife to show off or go viral online in his name. Animal Planet just picked up a new show with an host who is famous for utterly inappropriate interactions with wild animals - getting hurt by them on purpose, or “conveniently” finding tame individuals that will snuggle with him on camera - and it’s being marketed as being inspired by Steve. I can only imagine how much he’d hate to see someone who purports to emulate him teaching public it’s acceptable to disrespect wildlife that way. He was always in it for the value of educating people about how incredible the animals on his show were, not for the personal glory of getting to interact with them.

But the thing is, he didn’t live. And so, with his death, he was canonized as a saint to the people who idolized him when he was alive. That’s left no room for anyone to discuss the other effects of his work and his TV show - because it’s normal for people to get mad when their heroes are criticized posthumously.

The problem is that we need to be able to have that conversation. The fact that people feel entitled to interact with / befriend / tame wild animals - even very dangerous ones - is a well known problem that viral videos are responsible for exacerbating. Any animal professional who interfaces with the public is familiar with how much effort is put into begging and cajoling the public to just leave wildlife alone.

A big part of being able to change the public perception of appropriate interactions with animals is understanding the cultural forces that influence their current actions. We can absolutely love the work Steve did and still remember what a wonderful person he was, while also acknowledging how his influence has shaped a lot of the harmful ways people currently interact with wild animals.

[fisherfurbearer]

PERENNIAL GRAINS????

im having OFF THE CHARTS EXCITEMENT-ANXIETY MY DUDES.......HOLY SHIT...................................

HOLY SHIT,, HOLY SHIT.

http://pwheat.anr.msu.edu/about/perennial-wheat-faqs/

https://landinstitute.org/our-work/perennial-crops/kernza/

im lOSING MY SHIT RIGHT NOW. im freaking out. this could change THE WORLD. this could change EVERYTHING. think about the possabilities!!!!!!!!!!! the benefits to soil and water health are unbelievable, the Dependability and Sustainability they could offer to people is Incredible, the benefits they offer to WILDLIFE is so great (did you know hayfields are one of the best things ever for native grassland birds and wildlife and you can harvest hay without harming native birds [by leaving some acreage uncut and harvesting after the nesting season is over]?? what if we did that with perennial grains too????? did you know upland gamebirds flourish where small grains and diverse crops are grown??? this could have such an amazing impact on those species!!!!), AAAAND there is talk and PROOF now that you can GET A GRAIN CROP aND graze livestock on the same fucking acreage!!!!!!!!!

IMAGINE THE SUSTAINABLE FOOD PRODUCTION POSSIBILITIES!!!!

EVEN THOUGH kernza only produces a fraction of what wheat can produce, if you were to graze livestock on the same acreage pre and post harvest, which BENEFITS the plant and fertilizes the soil and improves animal welfare,,,,,,YOU COULD RAISE FUCKING SHEEP EVEN,, ON THAT STUFF,,,,,,SMaller and need less feed, and they could produce a wool crop each year and maybe lamb as well????? holy shit??????

what if you overseed with annual legumes and other shit as well??? could you time it so you can harvest additional grains at the same time as the kernza?? polyculture is mentioned in the first link and my mind is REELING from the possibilities!!!!

what about overseeding with warm season annual forages during the “summer slump” one would expect to see from a cool season crop like this? field peas (a cool season annual) grow beautifully on the same space as cereal grains. if kernza is strong enough to use as a natural trellis for the pea vines, could you grow field peas on the same acreage and get the benefits of nitrogen fixation AND improved forage for livestock OR a possible secondary pulse grain harvest at the same time as the kernza??????

just.....imagine the possibilities. JUST BECAUSE it will NEVER reach the same yield capable of annual grain (NOR SHOULD IT)

[hamptercatapult]

AAAAAAAAAAAA

aaaaAAAAAAAAAA THIS IS WHY I KEEP TELLING PEOPLE THAT """ALKALINE""" WATER IS STUPID FUCKING BULLSHIT AAAAAAAAAAAA

BECAUSE IM GETTING THIS AD AND--

SHUTTTT THEEEEEEEE FFFFFFFFUCK UPPPPPPPPPPPP THIS IS LITERALLY SO STUPID!!

here is a real pH scale with examples and a similar color scheme

yo dude thats not dasani thats straight lemon juice....

HEY DUDE THATS NOT WATER THAT IS A GLASS OF REAL ACTUAL

Bleach!

but to be serious for a moment this kind of consumer misinformation is really really harmful!! the pH level of water is naturally between 6-8 and like?? idk it just seems like a really fucking bad idea to impart this WRONG of an idea to the public in the form of advertising!!! materials on the very ends of the scale (0 and 14) are incredibly corrosive! both will cause harm to humans and wildlife when handled incorrectly! if something has a high pH level, that doesnt mean it has a "better level" than something with a low pH.... it just means that one is acidic and one is alkaline.

another image for explaining da meaning:

and i mean... the whole thing im trying to get to is that i immediately recognized that this is a horseshit fake "water pH test" but i know this isnt really common knowledge for a lot of people!!! and i think its fucked up to jerk people around using misleading fake science in ads

but frankly if your water advertises itself as being at a pH of 9.5 i KNOW that shits gonna taste DISGUSTING AND METALLIC