orphic.

i don't know how to stay tender with this much blood in my mouth.

[nabifx-blog]

disquiet.

[witchhcnt]

nabifx:

and still, “you wanna sit?” he adds quietly after a beat of silence, even though he very well knows that this, whatever it is, is the last thing he deserves.

of course it would have slipped his mind.

he had more important things to consider. even without the boy, even without his job. even without the war.

she had thought once that after the war things might change. that when he had had some time to process it, to work through the aftermath, he would realize that there had been someone else who had been there for him, standing by his side, propping him up. someone he had abandoned without a second glance to chase after the horcruxes. someone who had, instead of languishing in anguish, rallied the troops left behind and started a rebellion. someone who had risked life and limb for him, to return the impossible favor that was the existence of han minjoon himself.

he hadn’t though.

instead he’d found her, run right into her arms. outstretched to welcome a hero, an unwilling celebrity. jini would never have made their lives so public as she did, she had often considered to herself. jini would have done her best to keep them out of the press, to bide their time. they could have run off somewhere to hide in brilliant obscurity, until they were back on their feet. but he’d just kept on going instead, mina at his side. straight into training and into the ministry and on and on. never a chance to rest. someone had to make him rest. it was apparent now more than ever.

he was gaunt and exhausted, his skin a dull gray beneath his meager tan, his hair a tousled flop of sweat dampened black, a cut over his cheek and the exhaustion heavy in deep bruises pressed beneath piercing eyes. “its no problem, “ she tells him, smiles softly when he continues, shrugs her shoulders slightly and shifts,beside  the chair at his side, the one he hasn’t offered to her. he probably doesn’t want her there, doesn’t want her to stay, but she’ll feign ignorance as long as she can. “it’s nice to be back,”  she returns, her heart clenching in her chest.

“you need rest.” the girl corrects, ever her mother’s daughter in some ways, tugs open the cover to reveal the basket is full only of various baked goods. she glances at the goblet by his bed, back at him, “did you take it yet? what is it, sleeping draught? you probably need that more.” she points out, brows furrowing at the keen edge of desperation, a sharp rasp that cuts through the humor of his words, betrays a deeper dependence that she had anticipated.

“yeah,” she murmurs, settles to the chair, smooths her hands against her jeans to straighten invisible wrinkles in the fabric, purses her lips slightly. “i can’t imagine what you’re going through, really, “ she begins, because she has to say something about this, about all of it. “but i know you. and i know whatever the situation that… that i’m sure you did everything you could do. that sometimes…. horrible things just happen. and that’s not your fault.”

[nabifx-blog]

disquiet.

[witchhcnt]

nabifx:

evidently, they do hear it. proven with a slow creaking of the door sliding open, light from the hallway pouring into the dark room along with it. the figure standing behind it surprises him, but it doesn’t show much on his face, the exhaustion in his eyes hard to overwrite. “oh,” he rasps, shifting to straighten his slouched posture, “jini. hey, what’re you… doing here? aren’t you supposed to be in japan?” 

fingers fidget with the hem of her shirt as she examines the tapestry. behind it lies the concealed fourth floor ward. behind it, down the hall and to the left, is something - someone - she has been desperately avoiding for the better part of three years. someone that has woven himself into the fabric of her existence, inextricably intertwined into her livelihood, until extricating herself had felt like ripping her veins from beneath her skin - and had been just as difficult to survive.

but she had survived. she had thrived, even, she reminds herself. she thinks of sunsoaked days in osaka boating between islands, seeking out enclaves of merpeople. she thinks of the ghosts roaming the temple grounds, speaking in ancient tongues, carrying the secrets of the mountains and forests and moon. she thinks of the wandmakers and the winding trails to reach them, thinks of quiet nights in the library, the bustle of a foreign land around her in a cafe, green tea ice cream in monsoon season.

jini is a new girl now.

with the war behind her, with riddle in the past, with minjoon in the past - she is a phoenix, risen out of the ashes. she is stronger than she was then, and she is better, and she has something to offer him now. friendship maybe, or at least comfort, and the basket of baked goods her mother has insisted on sending his way, despite her protests that he’d only be there a night, from what they heard.

as if brownies and cookies will bring a little boy back from the dead.

her stomach turns and she pushes through the tapestry, through the concealed door. before she can think she’s at the end of the hall, battered sneakers squeaking, out of place against polished linoleum. jini braces herself, eyes closing for a moment, raises a hand to knock at the door. the reply is faint but as always she is somehow hyper aware of him, could pick him from a crowd of millions, could sense him with her eyes closed, pinpoint him at a distance.

the moment his gaze levels against her, the moment her name rasps from his lips, her heart sings, soars, and every atom in her is attuned immediately to him, buzzing, vibrating in reaction, shaking to pieces in moments after so long spent putting them back together. “oh.” she responds, thinks about a letter drafted and discarded over and over again, ultimately unsent. “yeah, yeah, i mean, i just got back. terms over, graduated and all that, so, i uh, i moved back in with mom. for a bit. last week.” there’s a pause. “i thought mom would have mentioned.” and then  - “but, i guess you’ve, uh, you’ve been busy.”

she hesitates beside the chair positioned at the edge of his bed, settles the basket on top of the little dresser. “are you awfully hurt or?” she can’t help the worry that creeps into her words, the way her gaze rakes over him for signs of injury - finds only exhaustion, despair, tension. the lesser of two evils - maybe.

[mvnshine]

from gold.

[witchhcnt]

mvnshine:

her very presence cuts him open raw. he pours fire-whiskey into that wound, lets it blot up that ache, sweep away threats of infection.

“any thoughts?”

the first thing jini adopted from her father’s immense interest in the muggle world was proper makeup. now potions had their uses and charms their place but they required rather a good deal of upkeep. she’d found a nice concealer kept the bruises beneath her eyes quite well covered and when charmed properly didn’t fade or crease or cake, and required less touching up than a charm or a potion.

jini hasn’t been sleeping well.

then again, jini’s peaceful nights of sleep ended abruptly a scant few months into her first year at hogwarts. never again would she really and truly know what it felt like to doze off for a long and restful slumber. even the good days, the dreamless ones, she would find herself startled awake as if some distant voice had called out to her, some echo lingering in the halls of her mind.

she dabs it carefully into place tonight, like armor. each unruly strand of copper hair that frames her face glints slightly with the light from the lamps overhead, a study in nuance. every inch of her is tense, head to toe, every tendon straining, every blood cell fervently racing in her veins.

it only gets worse.

standing in front of his door feels like the sharpest, steepest dive she ever took on a broom. it feels like the split second between the firing of a curse and the moment you have to dodge had been frozen and she along with it, trapped in that moment of tension, in the desperate knowledge she must act, act, act - must run or shout or - or something.

she knocks at his door.

the sound is pathetic in retrospect, in comparison with the undercurrent of adrenaline that courses in her, rages and roars like gryffindor’s lion in her chest.  the door swings open to greet her and she takes her first steps inside.

“hello then,” she mumbles to the empty room, trails towards him and hears the door click shut behind her, biting at the back of her tongue. she presses it to the roof of her mouth, feels ridges and bumps there. drags against the alveolar ridge and things of the formation of consonants, diagrams sketched out in old books. the thought of her academics gives her a brief moment of pause, an anchoring point, something to hold onto. she has a purpose here, a role. this will keep her on track. this is nothing. no big deal.

he’s a bit of a mess though, she considers, dark eyes flickering across the surroundings. the refilling bottle of firewhiskey - or something stronger? - and the piles of papers, the tension between his brows and the clipped tone he levels at her. “yes, i’ve been doing quite well, thanks for asking, and how are you?” she drawls back at him beneath her breath, evidently annoyed by his brusqueness. he was the one asking her for help, after all.

or at least that’s how they’d framed it to her.

she’s beginning to think he’s not so interested in her help at all, so much as he is the help of literally anyone with a knack for linguistics. the combination he proposes intrigues her immediately, but she’s loathe to show it, gaze flickering over the documents though she sits without moving. “its not even 4:30 yet.” she points out as he begins to drain the liquid once more.

“think you could do with some water, is what i think.” jini tacks it on with a goodnatured expression, even as she draws the papers towards her. she ignores the stutter of her heart. she doesn’t look closely at him, lets her gaze zero in on the documents instead, ignores the urge to steal a glance behind her lashes, to study the dull tint to his complexion, the flicker of something haunted in the back of his eyes.

[witchhcnt]

implore.

@mvnshine​ shia & jihoon. 

fingers drum against the table with uncertainty, the corner booth tucked away in dim lighting, framed by a wide open window overlooking the city streets. wizarding seoul was, undoubtedly, a study in beauty, an eclectic clash of the modern and everlasting, a step ahead of london and similar metropolises when it came to incorporating the highlights of muggle enterprise. 

she supposes she can support such a thing, if she must. 

the parks have never been ones to loathe change. serpentine to a fault, they adapt and change, suiting the climate of the times, shedding their skins to become new creatures as the need arises. it is one way to become everlasting - through reinvention. and here at the end of this line, plagued with issues of fertility and misfortune, sits shia. 

she is a study in perfectly matched shades of black, each with a more exorbitantly priced and finely woven composition than the last, down to the leather boots that wreath slender ankles. she’s dressed for a funeral, as her mother would scold, and maybe she is. maybe she has been for a long time. the death of a girl who had dreams. the death of a girl who believed herself to be a creation of her own invention - a truth quickly dashed against the rocks of adulthood, of truth. 

jihoon sat across from her, arms painted multicolored against softly tanned skin, and she barely recognized him. the hardness in his eyes, the purposefully affected slouch of his shoulders that to the untrained eye would express casual languor. but there was no sincerity in it, no real relaxation. he was as hyperaware now as ever. she hadn’t seen him properly breathe in months. years maybe, not a full in and out, not a moment of quiet.  and she was still going to ask this of him.  who else did she have, but him? he and daero had been the pillars of her humanity since the world began to crumble around her, stronger figures to prop up the world around her, around them all. she followed them into the fire - into the darkness, into the pits of hell. not out of any ideological sincerity but out of fear: for them, yes, and for herself. how was she to believe some juvenile asshat was going to overturn a man stronger than death? who’s very name struck fearful awe into the hearts of the most damnable, most powerful people she had ever known?  so surely he would do this for her, this one thing, this horrible favor. she had thought perhaps daero would have. she had hoped it. she had asked it, found herself wounded and empty handed in the wake of it, appearing hat in hand now in front of jihoon to beg redemption, salvation from him. she’d do whatever it took - whatever he asked. she’d take the mark, finally, if he wanted it - that final indelible plunge into the consuming dark.  for now she drowned herself in the thick red wine, mulled and heady on her tongue, gestured the sommelier to pour another glass as she cleared her throat, a delicate sound to break the silence more so than anything else. “ so, “ she begins, with the air of someone about to embark upon a business proposal. “i need a favor.”  he levels her with a curious, half shuttered stare and she shifts on her seat, her shoulders twitching slightly beneath the black robes overtop, a flutter of chiffon detailing as the cape-let accent ruffles with the movement. quiet conversation continues unceasing around them,  the violin plays in the distance, as if she weren’t about to make a final attempt to save her own life. “its a big.. favor. its a game changer, this one. its.... its kind of... no pressure but its the end of the line for me here.” her fingers slide back through her hair before she shifts, dips a hand to her bag to pull forth an impeccably organized file folder.  “i can make this mutually beneficial. i’ve laid out the contract, the details, expectations. income statements, protocol for the joining and division of assets, all of that. feel free to take a look.” she’s halfway through her negotiation of the point when she realizes she hasn’t actually asked him yet, steels herself with a breath and a quickly exhaled, “i need you to marry me.” 

[mvnshine]

wastelands.

[witchhcnt]

mvnshine:

“what now?” he asks, makes it sound like it’s nearly her fault. he doesn’t mean to. a force of habit. a force of who he is. painted over in something pointedly cruel and brackish. he hasn’t yet learned how to chip that forced color away. doesn’t know if he ever will.

humidity is thick in the air, a lingering cloud of it that settles heavy, rolling down in fog off the mountains. everything about the little cabin feels like a soggy sad mess, dingy and  dusty. she hates it, as soon as she steps foot in to the dim interior.

now that she’s been unwittingly trapped within it, her distaste has only heightened tenfold. each squeak of each floorboard etches down her spine like the drag of nails on a chalkboard. she feels as though she can sense the mold spores filling her lungs with each breath. its nonsensical, irrational, but she fixates on the thought anyway, as she feels cool air mix in her lungs, expanding, contracting. the rise and fall of her chest rhythmic and steady. suddenly, manually breathing. how annoying.

it gives her something to focus on, however, that isn’t the boy reclining across from her. no - no longer a boy, long since having left that moniker behind. a man now, broad shoulders and crisp lines, perfectly tousled hair, shadowed eyes. the barest hint of blank sneaking from beneath precisely cuffed shirt sleeves, rolled a precise amount- still able to conceal his branding.

just thinking of it sends a cold chill down her spine, a twist of visceral revulsion in the pit of her gut. as she closes out the conversation from the floo, she pushes a hand back through tousled hair, frizzing wild where it curls unruly, sucking in the moisture from the air to grow to impressive new heights. she leaves the fire going to take out some of the chill. her eyes roll, frustration eminent in the expression - not directed at him, persay, but at the situation. “no, of course not. they were delightfully vague and thoroughly obnoxious. anywhere from hours to days but surely less than a week.” she mimics the agent that had contacted her, clicks her tongue dismissively.

“so get cosy, i guess.”  she glances around the dim little room, tries to consider what on earth she might do with herself in this situation. she shifts, from one foot to another,fingers drumming frenetically against her arm,where she crosses them over her chest.

its stupid, that he makes her feel like a scared child. pathetic, truthfully, but part of her remembers cruel torment, taunted words throwing her own insecurities back at her day after day. hyeri is filth. hyeri doesn’t belong. maybe the basilisk will eat hyeri, wouldn’t that be nice? look at her hideous teeth, look at her hair, look at how foolish she is - a filthy mudblood trying to fit in in a world she can never understand.

she purses her lips. “now we… wait, i reckon.” she slicks her tongue against chapped lips, nips at the corner, tastes the coppery tang of blood. “you want some tea?” its a weak offer,but if she doesn’t busy her hands with something she’s liable to implode.

[lady-montague]

harry potter moodboards: ginny weasley

“Yeah, size is no guarantee of power,” said George. “Look at Ginny.”

[cardiamachina]

I think we deserve a soft epilogue, my love. We are good people and we’ve suffered enough.

Seventy Years of Sleep # 4. nikka ursula (n.t)

[leaderirene]

[ravcnsclaw]

“Pansy washed her hands in cold water. She felt guilty, on bad days, for hot sips of tea. She was supposed to be cold. That was the point of her, a sharp edge, a chill down your spine. She was unkind. She couldn’t run away from that, the cruel barbs she’d spat out all her life. She was turning them other places now, useful ones, instead of easy targets, but this was still her life. Her core held no light.” - ( ugly: in defense of pansy parkinson by dirgewithoutmusic )

[stardustminds]

And was snakes for hair not enough, a  wild and writhing mane to frame a lovely face? And Perseus fell like Icarus for her, for Medusa, the rumored murderess he could not look in the eye, and saw only in the reflection of a shield.

a tale of a god and a monster with a love like fire | v.

[softstained]

1. YOU THINK MEDUSA ASKED FOR THIS? ASKED FOR A LIFE IN DAMNATION? ASKED FOR WINGS THAT COULD ONLY FLY HER TO EXILE? ASKED FOR A GAZE THAT SET HER OWN MOTHER IN STONE? ASKED FOR SNAKEBITES LINING HER CHEEKS INSTEAD OF A LOVER’S KISS? ASKED TO BE A MONSTER? YOU THINK MEDUSA ASKED FOR THIS? ASKED TO BE CONDEMNED TO HELL BEFORE SHE EVEN KNEW WHAT HEAVEN MEANT?

2. Medusa memorised the Bible / Medusa bathed in holy water / Medusa wanted to be sacred / Medusa wondered why Jesus died for her / Medusa prayed to a God who / wronged her

3. Medusa asked for love & in return she got hatred / & rage / & death / Medusa wished for ichor to flow in her veins / yet all that flowed was sin she should never have claimed / Medusa begged for forgiveness / for redemption / FOR HELL / Medusa wept for the blood on her hands / Medusa tried to gouge out her eyes / that way she wouldn’t see / the crime scene at her feet

4. MEDUSA WAS SMILING AS PERSEUS SEVERED HER HEAD: AT LEAST, AT LEAST, AT LEAST—

5. This curse couldn’t haunt her in hell

THE SERPENT NEVER ASKED TO BE BORN A SERPENT by laetitia k.

[witchhcnt]

wanted.

IDOLS.

chatshire - literal queen of kpop gets punched in the throat by scandals, career under attack, mental stability rapidly deteroirating. takes to sulli levels of uh oh on social media, no longer gives a fuck. would like a) gdragon esque king of kpop equally scandal ridden b) long time manager c) brand new body guard d) indie musician ne won the scene to give her a breath of fresh air and help her get out from under the weight of expectations the industry has heaped on her. 

the unit - idol hopeful / failing rookie goes on the unit, ends up in a dalliance with one of the judges (your muse). corrupt, yeah. fucked up? probably. definitely not allowed? yes. 

FAIRY TALES.

little red - the amalgamation of a girl behind rose red, little red riding hood, etc. bloody hands and stained lips. rivers of crimson. the blood isn’t hers. (anymore).

alice - 

peter pan - 

MYTHOLOGY.

medusa- medusa is a monster, obviously. but she wasn’t always. once she was beautiful, a temple maiden to athena, taken and raped by poseidon. depending on your reading of the myth, athena either cursed her as a harbinger of death or did it to protect her from further violations. regardless, medusa was not thrilled. i want to play on the feelings of monstrousness, seclusion, and involuntarily bringing about great pain and suffering, and also a sick kind of beauty (those statues of stone men must have been terribly impressive given how lifelike they would have been). i reblogged a snippet of a poem suggesting perseus was in love with her, which could be an interesting take on it. i’d like to modernize obviously but likely retain some supernatural ability elements. i’m feeling someone like sulli for the faceclaim of medusa. it’d likely be terribly tragic and full of self loathing and conflict. 

BASED ON EXISTING AUS. 

marvel dc ghibli master’s sun - i like girls who can see ghosts maze runner hunger games

HARRY POTTER

golden -  so imagine in some korean area of post-war harry potter your muse fulfilled the harry potter role, in a sense, and mine the ginny weasley. only there wasn’t a beautiful coming together during “high school” so much as there was a desperate search for comfort in a troubling time, that led to an on and off situation that was decidedly unhealthy and thoroughly toxic. and abruptly ended when he vanished off to get rid of horcruxes. yes im basically transplanting and corrupting my otp into k faces but screw you. post war you’re acting as an auror and in the wake of your first huge, huge case, you fuck up. it doesn’t go well. you’re only human. only, you’re supposed to be more than that. its a spiral of alcoholism for you (always has been) and black humor, self loathing and toxicity. my gal, on the other hand, tried to be well and truly rid of you awhile ago, for her own good. moved away to study / find a path for herself outside of the shadow of an overlarge family and her connections to the wizarding world / revolution. yes largely based on this  fantastic story. i want the broken dreams of children forced to grow up too quickly, ruining themselves and one another in the process. i want the toxicity of the hero after his job is done - the emptiness of carrying on when the prophecy is complete, when his role in the world is entirely over. i want to explore what living in the shadow of that is like, what loving a man like that would be like - how it would be inevitably problematic and entirely unhealthy and how both would be forced to grow and accept the vastly changed landscape of their lives. obviously this would follow -10 canon but we can steal most anything you like from the real story. 

PARANORMAL. 

crossroads: i’m trying to sell my soul to you, a crossroads demon, but you’re being a real dick about it. literally wtf my books said nothing about this. naivete and power don’t go well together. death’s daughter: mortal dalliances are frowned up on but when you live forever its the kind of thing that happens eventually. welcome to the unfortunate biproduct of an unholy union, dubiously blessed (cursed?) with some of her father’s mystical elements.  fae/changeling plots: my girl a fae/changeling. yours a fae? maybe court nobility if you’re into it. or a human i g u e s s. i dont know. i love the lost and those stuck between worlds. flexible on everything but the innate fickle, brutal, passionate nature of the fae. 

[witchhcnt]

PERSONAL

ALIAS/NAME: Rue AGE: 18+ TIMEZONE:  KST ACTIVITY: highly variable, but usually active mostly on weekends. BLOG: witchhcnt.tumblr.com WORD COUNT RANGE: 300-800. CONTACT: tumblr im. PIC: sulli 

PREFERENCES

FACECLAIMS: almost exclusively girls - particularly sulli, joy, seulgi, ahn sohee, iu, krystal chungha, suzy, yeri, jennie, jisoo. always wanted to try out komatsu nana and kiko mizuhara and some others though. OPPOSITES: honestly a lot, i’m really flexible. i’d cry for a christian yu, kim jongin, kim myungsoo, jung joonyoung, jung jaewon, christian yu, or kim sunggyu. GENRES: surreal, historic, historic fantasy, supernatural, dystopian, light scifi (generally no aliens thanks but star wars / firefly / etc are cool), fairy tales, mythology, horror, paranormal, dark academia. PAIRING: i favor m/f and f/f just because i like to write girls, honestly. poly is cool too, and n/b. m/m is fine also but i’ll be slower to reply because it doesn’t come as easily to me. for a good plot i’m always willing though. FC PAIRINGS: kai x krystal, myungsoo x krystal, myungsoo x sulli, joy x seulgi, seulgi x irene, literally anything honestly idk.  TROPES: dysfunction on various levels, debauchery, hedonism, dark fairytales, reimagined mythology (hades x persephone, etc), doomed reincarnation cycles, curses, witches/warlocks/the occult, witch sells a soul to the devil, hemlock grove /ahs: coven/the secret history inspired stuff, r/s with power imbalances (high class x dirt poor, bodyguard x idol, manager x idol, more complicated variations, etc), reimagined ghibli chars, opposites attract, hate that i love you / love to hate you, rivals / enemies / mutual respect/ hate fucking, lots of stuff idk, the corruption of innocence, soft girls who fuck shit up, girls who could devour the world, all consuming relationships that are distinctly unhealthy, fighting against the inevitable unraveling of all things, mutants/supers/magic users with abilities that ruin their lives or drive them mad or warp them irrevocably, other ways in which people are destroyed or changed. 

QUESTIONNAIRE

1. DO YOU b. like it simple with plain (small) text?

2. WHAT TYPE OF RP STYLE ARE YOU INTERESTED IN? a. chill and easy with fast plotting b. heavy character development with pre-planned plots

3. WHEN IT COMES TO SMUT… b. i don’t mind it if it adds to the plot

SUBMIT HERE

[witchhcnt]

idea dump. 

usurper & princess.  death eaters, dark wizards, etc.  post apocalyptic rebellion force. new gods (a la american gods). old gods (greek, norse, roman, celtic, whatever) fairytale inspiration.  supernatural creatures. academic horror, murder, classics. firefly au/ space pirates. (can work w rebels) mutant based plots.  girls who seem like they could devour the world.  historic settings?  historic fantasy.  spn creatures who have been alive for ages.  long term reincarnation plots. (meeting over and over,  cosmic curses, etc) stars walking the earth. royalty. (modern? historic? fictional? idk) idols. (and the dangers of idolization) decadence, debauchery, desperation.  ghibli inspired settings/chars. surreal settings, alternate realities, the magical and mundane together. demons, fallen angels, etc. death’s daughter / reaper.  soul eater au ^ can tie to above. hp mid-war, post war. ptsd, trauma, etc. found family bts i need u / trilogy plot. four horsemen inspired mutants. slayer & vampire. witches, warlocks, temple maidens, seers, etc. fucked up fae / fae courts / seelie vs unseelie / etc

[letheane-deactivated20200121]

I’m the vestal priestess of a secret I’ve forgotten.

Clarice Lispector, from ‘The Passion According to G.H.’ (via aegeane)

[fxyun]

love is four walls;  love is a lie

[witchhcnt]

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