#c;mine

[wiheomchangmin]

(slow) Activity will be resumed there.

This is now an archive.

[wiheomchangmin]

Activity on this blog is going to be transferred to another account.. My apologies for all the false starts and stops.

Link posted when finished.

[wiheomchangmin]

ʜᴇ ɪs ᴀɴ ɪɴᴠᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ;

Like or inbox me for plotting (aka if you leave a note on this i'll probably check out your blog and inbox you, but if you're already raring to go, please feel free to drop by my ask first). Stipulations are that you must be able to see your muse and Changmin feasibly interacting, whether as a psychiatrist with a patient, or a secretive man with a friend. Or perhaps even an enemy. If you can't do that, it might be better to wait until one of us can imagine it one way or another.

[wiheomchangmin]

He extends a hand, as if offering it to a stranger to take. There's nothing welcoming about it, however, for at the end of the gesture, he produces a business card, sitting snugly between his first and middle fingers. He holds it up again, at little closer this time, as an offering. A sickly sweet smile follows shortly after as he waits for the other to take it.

"I'm not saying you seem like the type to need therapy - I'm just saying to keep an open mind about it. Everyone is under a lot of stress, these days, and I figure it's good to let it out, just talk about it."

The white card is adorned with crimson ink, spelling out Doctor Shim Changmin in a rather ornate script, followed by the address of his office, and the hours he's open in a more modest Helvetica. If you're going to have a card, you want to make it as simple as possible whilst still being memorable. That's the way he does most things, actually.

"I'm probably the most affordable psychiatrist in the city, as well. If you're going to pay to vent, unnecessary stresses like large fees are the last thing you need." He smiles again. "My schedule will flex to fit yours. Whenever you need to chat, I'll make time. All I ask is that you think about it."

[wiheomchangmin]

Dᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ Sʜɪᴍ Cʜᴀɴɢᴍɪɴ

No, not that kind of doctor.

A psychiatrist out of his practice in Yongsan, he is the shoulder for you to cry on. He is the rock that you will anchor yourself to when you are in a sea of confusion, the solution to your problems when there is none. He's not going to say that he'll fix you, only that he'll help you.

He can only repair broken souls, not replace them.

Just be careful, for he also has many jagged edges - even the best people keep secrets.

Would you like to make an appointment?

                         AU/OC | 18+ | Literate | Read | Reblog/MSG/Follow

[wiheomchangmin]

ʜᴇ ɪs ᴀɴ ɪɴᴠᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ;

Muse revamp. (Nearly) Clean slate. Of all the promises I've made thus far, this may be one of the few I'm likely to keep. Should be done by the weekend.

[wiheomchangmin]

| ᴀᴛ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ;; sᴜɴɢᴊᴏᴏɴssɪ |

To be honest, Changmin doesn't frequent places like this - bars and dives and other such places hold little interest for him. He doesn't like to say that he's a man with "taste," because everyone has their own preferences, really, and some prefer grungy places like the bar he's entering now. He just happens to prefer nice, clean restaurants and sometimes higher-end clubs when he goes out to drink.

But that doesn't mean he never comes to these establishments. In fact, "bar" is always his first choice when he needs to pick up something to eat. The meat isn't the best, sometimes it's too drunk to be prepared right away, sometimes he finds out a little late that it's got a little bit of a disease problem in the liver area, but it's enough. He can sober it up before butchering, let it spend its final night in his penthouse, on his nice, comfy couch, sipping at a glass of water.

He likes to think his victims enjoy that bit, at least.

Right now, though, is the dirty part, where he brushes a few people on his way inside and makes his way to the bar to settle onto a stool. He always picks one where he can see the rest of the room easily if he goes to swivel around. It makes things immensely easier.

From here, he'll scope out potentials, eliminating grungy, sick-looking, and older people. Healthy is best and absolutely always preferred, when he can get it.

He doesn't order unless he has to; he likes being completely aware of himself and his surroundings when he's shopping. This bar is big enough, with enough people to serve, that he is immediately disregarded by the barkeep. He's made sure to dress down in a black knit cardigan and jeans so that he doesn't stand out.

He spins slowly around on his perch to observe his selection pool.

It doesn't take long to spy a few good candidates; a woman nearly falling out of her chair laughing at something one of her friends has said, a tired-looking businessman pouring another shot for his boss, a dark-haired young man sitting alone and looking a little worse for wear but still usable, and a younger, western woman - probably a teacher.

While he would have usually gone for the businessman because he didn't look to have much fight left in him, he decides that the obvious choice this time around is the only one that is actually alone. It's easier to spirit away someone that isn't being looked for.

He watches his new target for a few moments, taking in the details and waiting to see if there is, in fact, anyone around that is interested in him. Besides a young girl at a table a little ways back that obviously finds him attractive, Changmin's soon-to-be-victim is wholly unnoticed by the general populace.

He slides off of his bar without further delay, and sidles over to the empty one on the young man's left. Statistically, he's going to be right-handed and it will be easier for Changmin if he's on the non-dominant side.

He summons the bartender over with a wave to procure a shot glass, and gives the older man a bright smile as a gesture of thanks before helping himself to the bottle of soju sitting in front of the man on his own left side. The middle-aged suit is passed out, so Changmin supposes that he won't mind. He's not going to drink it, anyway.

Then he turns to his right.

"Pardon me if I'm being intrusive, but you don't seem to be having the best time," he starts, gesturing vaguely with his forefinger as he holds his glass, "Mind if I join you?"

[wiheomchangmin]

Changmin's favorite color is white.

White like the inside of a hospital.

It's desolate, but pure.

And so easily corrupted.

Many people assume his favorite color is red, because he uses red ink to write documents and his favorite tie is crimson. These things are related but unrelated, significant but trivial.

He writes in red because it stands out, and because the liquid ink writes like blood. His favorite tie is red because it adds a pop of color to his otherwise monochrome wardrobe, and because the stains aren't as noticeable if he gets a few drops on it doing one of the things he does best.

But his favorite color is white.

He decorates his penthouse with it, makes sure his furniture is always that clean, sterile white, no matter what. He keeps the whole place spotless to make sure that he doesn't have to worry about dirtying his couch or his chair or his bed.

Of course, sometimes it can't be helped; he'll bring home the ingredients for his next few meals and because they're heavier than he anticipated, he'll end up dropping them. Red will splatter his pristine furniture and he'll have to break out the bleach again. On those nights he's more than a little agitated - things louder than strings and piano play as he cleans, then puts his food in the industrial freezer.

He's sure his downstairs neighbors aren't too fond of those nights, either.

He's not sure when his strange admiration for the absence of color started. He assumes it was when he was around six or seven, when he was taken to the hospital after becoming violently ill one night.

He returned again several months later when his younger sister sprained her ankle, and it cemented in his mind the vision of stark white.

His fascination with it is probably unhealthy. Even in his patients, he tries to seek out the purity hidden within the murky blackness of paranoia and disease. He attempts to cultivate the bright spot he sees, make it grow, help it spread.

That's how he focuses on getting them better, even if "better" isn't exactly a good word for it. He helps them manage the darkness, and nourish the light.

He's enamored with people that have spots or fields of white in them, really, because it's something that he doesn't have, himself.

He is beyond getting "better," beyond reform and purifying. He is corrupt, malformed and blackened by his twisted nature. And he knows it.

He takes an interest in people that have light, because he is darkness.

Changmin's favorite color is white because his soul, his heart, his mind - his essence - is black.