⠀⠀intro. ⠀⠀dossier. ⠀⠀roots. ⠀⠀tendrils. ⠀⠀curriculum. ⠀⠀bound.

pixel skylines
Sweet Seals For You, Always

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Origami Around
Mike Driver
One Nice Bug Per Day

Kaledo Art

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KIROKAZE

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let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
will byers stan first human second
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
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Discoholic 🪩

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wallacepolsom
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Today's Document

#extradirty

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@dionaeaas
⠀⠀intro. ⠀⠀dossier. ⠀⠀roots. ⠀⠀tendrils. ⠀⠀curriculum. ⠀⠀bound.
Before he could react, she pressed further into him, as if passing through flesh and bone at once, and his mind plunged into a bottomless pit. Yet his grip on the professor held — tightening, if anything — as he pulled her closer to him.
lady luck seemed to smile upon okju. a once taut, frantic state softened within the curve of a familiar face and the warmth of another body steadying her own. lips curled into a small, sheepish grin with cheeks entirely flushed, staining porcelain a tender pink even under dim amber. just now she was like a frightened child, then there was brief relief before realization gave way to embarrassment. from almost toppling him over. from being held so tightly. from both. what were the odds of bumping into the very person specializing in spirits this late in the evening? and what was he to say about a teacher playing with items of the occult that should not be toyed with? she knew little of him past corridor greetings out of courtesy and knew even less about the thing she’d just been dabbling with. after all spiritcraft was his in ways that green magic was hers.
“hoshimori.” her voice was a little enthusiastic than intended, albeit fragile under simmering unease. “i did not expect to see you at this hour of night, but i’m actually glad at such coincidence since i was hoping you could help me . . .” words gradually trailed off as the student’s expression shifted. focus no longer rested on her face but elsewhere, somewhere far behind, just over her shoulder. fear did not keep her in place but his grip, preventing her from turning to what he was seeing.
a familiar dread crept upwards her spine, raising tiny bumps from her flesh. it would have been so easy to mistake it for a cold draft if not for the eerie circumstances surrounding that night. the scent reached her next. freshly watered soil. wet roots. it smelled of home, of her garden. where all dead things can grow into something beautiful again. but beneath the smell was a sickening sweetness. decay that had been left too long in stagnant heat. overwhelming in its assault of her senses but sight, she could no longer ignore the weight of its presence pressing onto the both of them. the sensation reminded her of vines crowding a trellis, twisting over one another in suffocating tangles while searching desperately for somewhere to go.
“suisho?” the question was gentle, careful not to startle. pain began faintly where his fingers started digging into flesh through layers of fabric. when she urged herself backward, movement proved tough with how closely he held her now. another yank and the balance slipped violently from under her as his weight bore forward all at once. a shoulder struck hardwood first, but before she could react, his body collapsed against her own. both hands reached for the sides of his face to shake his attention from the beyond and almost did she let go just as quickly.
“you’re really cold, suisho.” but nowhere within the figure in front of her could she find the student anymore.
encounters closer and closer. w/ @glassmorphisms.
ornate letters and numbers decorated the wooden board in front of her. in the wee hours of the night, okju's room was completely swallowed up by darkness save for the candlelight burning faintly beside the ouija board. from this angle it almost looked as though the symbols carved on its surface were twisting into unrecognizable shapes whenever the light hit a certain way. outside her window an owl hoots and she almost jumps from the floor. she wasn’t normally twitchy, nor was she this reckless. in retrospect, she could not recall when she started thinking about her mother. she had been dead for thirty years. on the very same day okju had died been born. then her thoughts fluttered closer to home, to yeju. doting grandmother. one whose face turned somber whenever asked about the life her daughter had lived. it had been made clear to her granddaughter then that three decades were not enough for the old witch to assuage the remorse she’d harbored since.
knelt on the carpet, a small, heart—shaped piece was clutched between dainty fingers, hovering just over the board. she would not dare attempt to perform such ritual when she lived with yeju. but now that she was all by herself? there had never been a more perfect time, if not more idiotic considering she was as experienced with spirits as she is with normal human relationships — which goes without saying is next to none. but she was a witch. and grandmother was a great, green witch. powerful magic flowed through her veins, or so she’d been told. how hard could it be?
regret came instantaneously. once both hands were on the planchette, nothing happened at first. “eomma?” a light breeze pricked at her skin despite the closed window to her room and she watched as the tiny, wooden piece began moving beneath her fingertips. yes, the word peeked through the hole of the planchette. panic settled in her gut. she did not think it would respond so quickly. and yet if she had been thinking at all she would not be doing this at a whim. but it was not yet done. the piece of wood under her digits wavered again and slid swiftly across the board until it formed a question.
w h y d i d y o u l e a v e m e h e r e a l o n e ?
“i didn’t.” the words rushed out of her and just as soon the pointer jerked and circled the same three—letter word repeatedly.
yes.
yes.
yes.
yes, you did. — was the message mother was trying to say. more and more aggressively it kept circling the word until okju finally let go of the planchette with a loud “stop!”. she was mid—exhale when an icy grip sharply yanked her from the floor only to realize nothing was behind her but her window. glancing down, a harsh red handprint appeared around her arm. deciding she had enough of this silly seance, the witch made quick work to pack up the ouija board, blew out her candle, and padded towards the library where she originally found it.
this time, however, she bumped into something more solid.
greetings, boils and ghouls! short disclaimer about me: i’m fairly new to the tumblr rp space so i do apologize in advance if i seem a little lost or slow to pick up on things regarding the platform. that said, i’m quite excited to be here albeit a bit intimidated and without further ado, let me introduce your new herbology professor and resident green witch, choi okju! (•ᴗ•,, )
press the ♡ to plot and i’ll be reaching out shortly. her biography is a work in progress but under the cut is a summarized version of her background for your perusal. tw: deaths.
ooc. old account was shadowbanned so please follow this one instead. :]