Mystic Men @mystxcmxn - Tumblr Blog

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[ jacob elordi / 25 / homosexual / male/fluid / he/they / pureblood ] ⸻ bellatrix black, is an(a) postgraduate of the college of divination & temporal studies, majoring in divination and advanced prophetic states. they were born in salem, but currently reside san francisco when not at wickerby. they’re known to be whimiscal & perceptive, but those that cross them have experienced their absent minded & untethered. when they graduate they hope to become a seer and the world knows the expectations and reputation of wickerby students. greatness will come of them, one way or another.

[ drew starkey / 22 / bisexual / male / he/him / half-blood ] ⸻ eryx shadowfell, an under gradute student of the college of magizoology & creature studies, majoring in dragonkeeping. they were born in denver, but currently reside billings montana when not at wickerby. they’re known to be resourceful & creatieve , but those that cross them have experienced their sarcastic & absentminded. when they graduate they hope to become a dragonkeeper, and the world knows the expectations and reputation of wickerby students. greatness will come of them, one way or another.

[ charles melton / 26 / homosexual / male / he/they / half-veela ] ⸻ cassian rosier, is an post graduate student of the college arcane theroy and spellcraft , majoring in spellcrafting. they were born in godric’s hallow, but currently reside london when not at wickerby. they’re known to be charming & elegant, but those that cross them have experienced their vain & standoffish . when they graduate they hope to become a spellcrafter, and the world knows the expectations and reputation of wickerby students. greatness will come of them, one way or another

[ wilson bethel / 103 / homosexual / male / he-him / half-blood ] ⸻ edwin vanderbilt, is currently employed at wickerby academy of magical advancement as a professor of tactical magic and dean within the college of combat magic and defense . they were born in new york, but currently reside in new york while teaching at wickerby. colleagues and students alike know them to be protective & paitent, though beneath that reputation lies someone capable of stoic & possesieve. whether respected, feared, or quietly watched by the academy itself, their place within wickerby is undeniable. their research currently focuses on shields and magic negation, and whether by ambition or obligation, they remain deeply tied to the institution and the secrets buried beneath it.

occultcounsel

The name—Black—lands in the charged air between them like a thrown gauntlet. For a fleeting, almost imperceptible moment, Addison's composure wavers. His jaw tightens, a minuscule clench of muscle that speaks volumes. He had known, of course. A professor at Wickerby for a decade doesn't miss the legacy attached to a name like that, the old money, the deeper, older magic. But hearing it wielded as a countermeasure, a shield by this boy… it’s a miscalculation. It’s an error Addison finds utterly fascinating. He doesn't see a threat; he sees an untrained pup baring its teeth, mistaking its pedigree for a weapon.

His response is not anger. It is something far more chilling. A slow, predatory smile spreads across his face, genuine this time, devoid of all its earlier warmth. It reaches his hazel eyes, making them glitter with a dark, appreciative light. "Oh, I haven't forgotten," he says, the sound a silken murmur that cuts deeper than a shout. "But we both know the Black family power is a shield. A gilded cage. My boy, I am offering you a sword."

He steps forward, closing the distance Bellatrix had just created. The movement is an invasion, a claim of space that brooks no refusal. He doesn't stop until their chests are nearly touching, meeting his gaze eye to eye. He lifts a hand, not to touch, but to bracket Bellatrix's body against the wall, his palm flat on the plaster beside the younger man's ear. It's a cage made of one arm.

"Your family has influence," Addison continues, his voice dropping to a low, hypnotic rumble meant for Bellatrix alone. "They can move pieces on a board. They cannot… understand the board. They cannot hear the voices from beyond it. They cannot interpret the language of blood and moonlight." His other hand comes up, his thumb gently, possessively, stroking the line of Bellatrix's jaw. "You think you are more than a tool because of your name? You are tragically mistaken. You are a key precisely because of the power you can't yet control. Your lineage is just the ornate handle."

Bellatrix's defiant tease about staying in his own bed is met with a flicker of triumph in Addison's eyes. This is the game he knows how to play. This is the language he speaks fluently. He leans in, the faint, clean scent of him filling Bellatrix's senses, pushing out the messy, lived-in smell of the dormitory. His lips hover a breath away from Bellatrix's ear.

"Don't pretend this is about convenience, little prophet," he whispers, the words a warm caress that is also a command. "You know where you belong tonight." He pulls back just enough to capture Bellatrix's eyes, his gaze stripping away the last of the bravado. "As for what you'll wear…" His thumb drifts from Bellatrix's jaw to his lower lip, pressing down gently, a silent gesture of ownership. "You won't be needing anything of yours."

He doesn't wait for an answer. He aims his head and captures Bellatrix's mouth in a kiss that is a confirmation, not a negotiation. It's firm, possessive, tasting of whiskey and a dark, unspoken promise. It's a kiss that says you are mine to use, to protect, to break, to reassemble. When he pulls back, he leaves Bellatrix breathless, the fight gone from his posture, replaced by a pliant weariness that is exactly what Addison wants.

"Get your coat," Addison says, his voice returning to its normal, composed cadence as he takes a step back, the dynamic reset. He turns and walks toward the door, retrieving the unlit cigarette from behind his ear and placing it between his lips without lighting it. It's a prop, a piece of the Addison Blake persona he puts on like a well-tailored coat. He expects obedience. He expects Bellatrix to follow.