semi private. 21+. supernatural creatures site set on jcink prem. set in the fictional town of harrow, oregon. coming april 2026.
harrow doesn’t feel like much at first. give it time. it will. tracking: ordinary rp
this feeling is bone deep - best friend, confidant, maybe more? wanted for rosamund pike werewolf who hasn't had the best luck in love, but maybe that luck could finally be turning around if she has the guts to admit how she's feeling and stop playing it safe with the only person who knows who and what she really is.
born again- husband and his family of longstanding, well-respected witches wanted for naive wife (samara weaving) who is only just now starting to see the truth of murder, mayhem, and more that has always plagued their town. fear street inspo with lots of potential for drama. eldest son, second son, and familiars for the family all needed to tie together with sister already on board!
biting the hand - greek gods inspired friend group for a wayward familiar with too much attitude and not enough time for all the vendettas she had. found family vibes.
Will there be a certain time period when you guys are accepting applications, or are they always rolling (meaning there's no time period, essentially haha)?
For now they're rolling! If we start to feel overwhelmed or need to cap, we'll update here!
this feeling is bone deep - best friend, confidant, maybe more? wanted for rosamund pike werewolf who hasn't had the best luck in love, but maybe that luck could finally be turning around?
born again - husband and his family of longstanding, well respected witches wanted for naive wife (samara weaving) who is only just now starting to see the truth of murder, mayhem, and more that has always plagued their town
too sweet for me - complicated witch wanted for even more complicated familiar (havana rose liu) who has never really gotten her life together. is it love? is it lust? is it all going to blow up in their faces?
bet on losing dogs - loyal, dependable husband wanted for selkie mayor of harrow (gillian anderson) who is slowly beginning to lose control of the only home she's ever loved
ordinary ghosts is a 21+ semi-private supernatural creatures roleplay open now on jcink premium!
set in the town of harrow, oregon, ordinary ghosts serves as a tight-knit community focusing on character and world development. summerfest is just around the corner, and in a town like harrow, it's an event that can't be missed.
harrow doesn’t feel like much at first. give it time. it will.
below you'll find our detailed lore for what we call the wild and the depth. these are our two semi guiding entities that can be interacted with on site! beware: it is long.
In the beginning, before any town had a name or a post office or an opinion about either, there were two.
The Wild lived in the trees. The Depth lived in the water. This is not a metaphor. They were simply there, the way weather is there, the way dark is there when you turn the light off, present and patient and entirely unbothered by whether or not you believed in them.
They were not the same, the Wild and the Depth, and they knew it.
The Wild was loud about this. The Wild was loud about most things.
We are not the same, it said to the Depth once, from the treeline at the edge of the water, because the Wild had an opinion and saw no reason to keep it to itself.
The Depth looked back and said nothing, which is what the Depth usually said, and the Wild took this as agreement because it usually did.
The Wild made deals. This is the thing you must understand about it first, before anything else.
It did not do this out of greed or malice or any of the other reasons that things in stories make deals. It did it because it had something to give and it wanted something in return and waiting around for people to figure this out on their own had never once worked in all the long years it had been waiting. So it stopped waiting.
A girl came to the treeline once, young and frightened, the kind of frightened that has been building for a long time and finally run out of room. The Wild watched her stand at the edge of the trees for a long moment, working up her courage, and then it got impatient.
You want power, said the Wild. I have it. Give me something that matters to you.
The girl startled. She had expected...she wasn't sure what she had expected. Something more ceremonial, perhaps. Something with more steps.
What do you want? she asked.
The Wild told her. The Wild always told you exactly what it wanted, and it was always the thing you least wanted to give, and that was not cruelty either. It was simply the rate of exchange. The more something cost you, the more it was worth. That was true before the Wild and it will be true long after.
The girl gave what the Wild asked for. She received what she came for. She went home with something in her that hadn't been there before.
This is how it has always gone, in every forest, in every country, in every dark and rain-soaked place where someone desperate enough has walked to the edge of the trees and stood there long enough for the Wild to lose patience. The Wild had not invented any of this. It only distributed it, on behalf of something far above it that had much larger concerns and left the particulars to the Wild, which suited the Wild fine because the Wild had opinions about the particulars.
The Depth made no deals.
This was not because it had nothing to offer. The selkies knew what the Depth could do. The sirens knew. The things that lived below the surface of every dark and ancient body of water in the world knew, in the wordless way that deep-water creatures know things, and they were grateful for it, and they showed their gratitude in the private way that such things are shown. A gift left at the bottom. A small treasure pressed into the silt. A gesture made in the dark where no one watched.
The Depth accepted these things. It did not ask for them.
If you were crossing the water, really crossing it, the kind of crossing that mattered, in weather or in grief or in the particular desperation of a long and lightless night, you left something at the edge first. A coin. A flower. Something small and sincere. You didn't have to. The Depth would not come after you if you forgot.
But the ones who remembered arrived safely.
And the ones who forgot, well...The Depth was not cruel.
But the water is cold and deep, and the Depth had not promised anything to anyone who hadn't asked.
They did not fight, the Wild and the Depth, in all the long years they occupied either side of the world.
They were not alike enough to fight. The Wild wanted to be known, wanted the acknowledgment of the deal, the moment of asking, the back-and-forth of it. The Depth wanted nothing announced. It was content to exist and to watch and to correct, quietly, the things that went wrong in the water.
And things did go wrong sometimes. Someone would do something they shouldn't. Something would be broken that was supposed to hold. The Depth would notice, the way it noticed everything, and it would begin, slowly and patiently and without announcement, to put it right.
It did not ask for thanks for this. It did not tell anyone it was doing it. By the time anyone noticed the wrong had been corrected, the Depth was already back to watching.
The Wild thought this was inefficient. It said so.
The Depth did not respond.
They are still there. Both of them.
The Wild is in every forest and every fog and every place where the trees grow close enough together that the light stops reaching the ground. It is still making deals. It still gets impatient with people who take too long to answer, and it will tell you exactly what it wants if you go to the right place and stand still long enough.
Most people don't.
But some do, and have, and will, in every country and every century and every dark wood that has ever existed or ever will. And the Depth is in every lake and every river and every ocean that has no visible bottom, watching, correcting, remembering.
Most people, when they come to the water's edge, leave something behind before they cross. A coin. A flower. Something small.
When a witch makes a deal with the Wild, a familiar is pulled from wherever they are and brought to them without warning. One moment they have a life. The next, they are standing at a stranger’s side, expected to stay. Most witches accept what they are given. Some do not. It is not unheard of for a witch to kill for a stronger familiar, though it is taboo and rarely goes unpunished.
Familiars are human. They live and die like anyone else, but the bond changes the rules. If a familiar dies, their witch dies with them. The reverse is not true. A familiar can survive the death of their witch, though the bond does not always fade cleanly.
They can have children, but what they are does not pass down. Most familiars are born to human families at random, with no sign of what they will become. They are taken without warning, and if they ever return, it is with a new life already built for them. Most are expected to accept it.
Each familiar has one ability. They can shift into a single animal, usually something common enough to go unnoticed. In that form, they gain the instincts and abilities of that animal, along with faster healing.
They are tied to their witch in ways they cannot ignore. They feel their witch’s strongest emotions, especially pain and fear, and can tell the difference between those feelings and their own. Some believe it is meant to protect the witch. In desperate situations, a familiar can draw on their witch’s life to survive, but it only delays the outcome.
They cannot stray far. The bond keeps them within ten miles, limiting any real independence. Most are expected to live quietly, under whatever story explains why they disappeared and why they stayed gone.
Some witches allow their familiars space.
Others keep them close, and make sure they stay that way.
It may be often ignored, but magic is very real. It flows through the course of time, living and breathing as a gift bestowed upon those chosen bloodlines for centuries. It is both a blessing and a curse.
Those born with the gift are of families with witchcraft tracing back no more than four generations. Although the gene may skip here and there, producing mortal members of magical families. The gene is always present, even if hidden, however, and could be passed on to their children still.
As a witch grows, their powers manifest as certain uncontrollable oddities. Only when a deal is made can these oddities be controlled and harnessed into the power witches claim. This deal, often made on the night of a witch's eighteenth birthday, is made with an untold higher power called the Wild otherwise known as the energy that controls it all. One thing is certain, however: something must be sacrificed (a life, a favor, power, etc) for this power to be gained. A life will give them stronger powers than any other sacrifice.
A witch need not know the person they are sacrificing (if they choose to seek greater power), just the name will do. With that said, the ritual tends to be more... powerful when the sacrifice is of someone close to the witch. This sacrifice is made by all witches and is done with great honor, often orchestrated within families to offer the matriarch closest to death's doors.
(It is important to note, with the gravest of tones, that this sacrifice is entirely necessary. Without it, the chaos of their uncontrolled powers will only grow more unruly. Without the sacrifice, there will only come death around them. The chaos will cause suffering and torment around the witch as they grow older. Then, eventually, they will fizzle out like a match.)
All witches can perform low-level spells and concoct potions, but further expertise requires a specialty and deep study.
Mortality specialties are the most rare as it takes an incredibly strong soul to seek to master the art of life and death. Witches in this specialty are able to draw life and disperse it elsewhere which can be quite dangerous to themselves if they're not careful. Bringing back something larger than a house cat is an incredibly arduous task and one that most can not and will never do. Witches seeking out this practice should be wary as life can give, but it can and does also take away just as quickly, and more souls die seeking to master this specialty than the others combined.
As the tales go, witches do have familiars, although the truth is darker than the children's tales of pets with strong bonds. Witches are granted a familiar at the time of their sacrifice as a gift from the ever-generous universe. A stranger is pulled from their life elsewhere, from anywhere in the world, to form a pressing and powerful bond.
A witch and their familiar are closely tied and can draw energy from each other. A strong familiar makes a strong witch, but a weak familiar risks dying from the energy drain. A witch depends on their familiar and cannot live without them or be too far apart, but a familiar may do just fine on their own.
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