witch of the water

she rejects pleasures to secure other greater pleasures, or else she endures pains to avoid worse pains.

[yuhuangzhou]

“...you live your life in extremes. it’s all or nothing. you’re in gaudy, ugly, baggy clothes with your oversize glasses on or you’re in tight-fitting dresses that cost upwards of the hundreds.”

zhiruo; dressed down compilation.              dressed up compilation. (x tba)

[yuhuangzhou]

* sunday best

@prtaeyoung​

the cigarette holder clip opens as she fiddles with the locking mechanism, dropping the finished filter into one of the trays at the table. it’s a bit of a brisk morning, and a bit of a breeze shuffles some wayward leaves in the middle of the street as she pulls another smoke out from her pack. the cool wind chills against her ankles for a few seconds before it continues to sweep down the road. zhiruo moves some of her hair behind her ear, and watches the steam waft from her still too hot coffee as she peeks at the time. just a few more minutes and he’ll officially be late - how unlike him.

it’s never really a competition since they have wildly different styles. apart from the obvious differences in pieces worn, she can always admire an impeccably put together outfit, no matter the gender or person wearing it. she could absolutely despise someone, but still begrudgingly admit that their styling is impeccable - there’s a certain amount of honor among those who take fashion seriously, and zhiruo is a little relieved that she’s found a companion (well, except for those times in which just being comfortable takes priority. she’s an enthusiast but she’s not insane).

the lighter catches on for on, less than a second, but before she is able to light the new cigarette, it flickers out due to the wind or due to being dead, she can’t say for sure. sighing, she wonders if the old couple inside the cafe will have a lighter. there’s enough cigarette butts by the side entrance that she’s pretty sure she’s not the only one that partakes, but is it worth going in there and trying to charades together what she needs? not really. briefly, she wonders if trying to use english will make thing easier -

“welcome. just a few minutes early, but still early.” he’s dressed handsomely, and she nods in her own head in approval. “so far while waiting i’ve spotted four fake designer handbags.” she tilts her head to the open seat next to her at the wrought iron table. “you got a light by any chance?”

saturday morning are for them. pending no business to be done, this has easily become an early morning weekend ritual worth keeping.

[yuhuangzhou]

* corundum

@prwonjae

the rumblings of a rumor soon spoke into existence the man of mystery that she’d been searching for, for the past twenty or so minutes. hyunsoo really needed to come up with a better method of introduction for any new members, especially ones that had a certain skill set that correlated directly to her second greatest passion behind art, but first greatest vanity related hobby.

when she does stumble upon a face she doesn’t know, her smile is a genuine one, if a little predatory. “the man of the hour.” her smile is pointed, her eyes are excited, and really, this is a side of her that not many get to see so early on. “i heard you specialize in jewels in the way that i specialize in art,” it’s probably the most in depth introduction he’s going to get from her, but she’s eager to see what he knows.

though she may not truly care at the moment, she asks out of obligation. “i hope you’ve settled in well enough, i’m sure you’ll meet everyone by the end of the week.” social niceties have never been something zhiruo particularly liked, but they’re a necessary evil in business. also, when you’re trying to get a feel for someone before revealing any ulterior motives. “they’re an eclectic bunch and some are more...accessible than others, but i’m zhiruo.” she doesn’t extend a hand, simply nods once before rapping her knuckles on the table off to her right side.

“tell me about your dalliance with diamonds. or - just tell me about your history with jewels; i’m a bit of a fanatic myself.” asking close ended questions that she knows the answer to? if possible, her smile gets sharper in anticipation of the answer she knows is incoming.

[calpr]

corpse reviver

[yuhuangzhou]

calpr‌:

[ ... ]

And from all directions but one, a rush of wind and the accompanying chorus of mewls. You feel a hard clap against your back that jolts your head up, far enough that you spot the group’s sole betrayer heading the opposite way, her face shrouded and yet her silhouette so unmistakable that it could never escape you.

Following your debriefing and one final patch-up you retrace her steps and they lead you, predictably, to the study.

“Hiding out here?”

Zhiruo sits in silence. Her statuesque shoulders, no longer held up high, jut against the edge of the desk; the folds of her shirt bend to the will of friction over posture. The image strikes a toothsore sweetness in you.

The onyx bar is unlit but wet. You outline the base of an emptied shot glass, its walls washed. Your finger comes up slightly tacky. “I’m hurt.” You stifle back a snort. It’s not every day you can say that in a literal sense. “‘Welcome back’, and not a back hug, Ro? C’mon.”

“Didja miss me?!”

she could deck him. she could roll her fingers in on her palm like she’d seen dongseon do on only a few occasions, and fold her thumb down across the middle of her index finger and middle finger. she could dig the heel of her red-bottoms into the tile and pivot, throw her whole body weight into the punch, and even though he’s a slippery bastard that manages to get far enough from her each time she even thinks about strangling him on a good day, he’s already barely held together as is that zhiruo is sure she could actually manage to do some damage.

but that would be unbecoming.

so she feels her chest tighten as the people around her surge forward or cheer enthusiastically, as the rest of his team filters in, in various forms of beaten and trodden upon. she knows that the chill she feels on her back, stuck between the thin layer of silk she wears and her skin is due to all the heat leaving her body, the relief manifesting as heat and anger and worry leave her in one big rush with his three words.

but zhiruo is furious, still. doesn’t know why.

furious at him? or herself for falling so invested into this ragtag team of thieves to the point where she had been legitimately wondering what the proper procedure would be to grieve for a group of people you pretended you didn’t care about? she doesn’t want to think about it anymore, so she does something that might just be even more unbecoming than if she were to walk right up to calvin and thwack him in the mouth.

she goes to make herself a drink.

casamigos is a far cry from the fireball that’d turned her off to alcohol all those years ago (goddamn, it’s almost been twenty), so she prepares herself for the burn that she associates with the act of downing legitimate poison, the spice of cinnamon and tang of disgusting sweetener, but when it never comes she relaxes. two more follow, and a few minutes after, she’s pressing harsh paper towels usually used to clean up spills against the underside of her eyes. there’s something refined about a silent crier, she thinks to herself as the purefuckinganxiety leaves her body through the heaving of usually so straight shoulders. she finds comfort in the fact that after this next shot she’ll be done and since everyone is probably decompressing from a very stressful few hours, she’ll still be sheltered from the storm of everyone’s own brand of relief.

it’s self-loathing that she’s drinking away. her own inability to process her emotions in any healthy manner; her fight or flight mechanism that reads more like fly or flee. but she’s never been brave or noble, it’s why she hides in her office full of carefully curated everything and tries her hardest to stay detached among all of these brilliant minds. but it’s impossible, just impossible because she is still only just a human being with certain attachments - some stronger than others.

she pours half a shot into the glass, and takes a small sip, letting just the smallest amount trace the bottom. it’s harsher in her mouth, now. maybe because the energy has since released from her person, and she’s starting to sober up. crumpled and stained paper towels are dropped into the wastebasket, and she straightens her shirt, shaky fingertips pressing on creases, swiping at any bits of eyeliner that may have smudged down underneath her eyes. but it’s not too hard to put herself back together - it’s why she invests in the higher-end makeup products. for times like this; they don’t happen often but for the off-chances that they do.

leaving the seat at the bar, she settles just on the edge of an armchair, debating if it’s safe to venture back to her private office. at least there, she can double lock the door and pretend she’s working.

but the hermes skirt she’s wearing only goes through more abuse when cal walks in, only slightly more put together than when she’d seen him a few hours prior. she tries to conjure up the anger from before, the one that made her want to do something violent, but she can’t muster up a single strand from that indescribable cloud of initial feelings to wield against him. she can see the bruising better this close - just a meter away. she should have moved further away from the bar. hindsight is 20/20; she’d never imagined he would find her like this.

shoulda, coulda, woulda.

“you’re alive. you’re back. seemed like the right thing to say.” zhiruo doesn’t like how her voice catches. she convinces herself it’s from before, and that she’s not getting choked up now, watching him put the pieces of this puzzle back together. sometimes, many times, she wishes that he were just a pretty face and a feather-toed jock, not actually whip-smart as well. “ i’ve never been a hugger, you know that.”

and this time her voice really catches. but she doesn’t look away. she meets his gaze but buries her nails into the fabric of her skirt, digging into her thighs. she feels the burn of new tears but her pride won’t let them fall. zhiruo inhales sharply, trying to straighten her posture but she only ends up with tension between the blades that she can’t help but deflate from. “i don’t hug unless you’re dead or dying.”

bam - there it is!

that last admission brings her to her knees in every sense but physical, and she closes her eyes to him, admitting defeat in the clearest sense of the word. her eyelashes are wet but nothing slips past so it’s not a complete loss. “cal,” she starts, but needs to pause. “if you come even one step closer to me i cannot promise that i will not stain something of yours with eyeliner.”

the time to put on airs has long passed.

[prnatsume]

authenticate.

[yuhuangzhou]

prnatsume‌:

@przhiruo

the nice thing about being in a club is that pretty women are obliged to give you their phone number. he doesn’t abuse this privilege as much as he’d like to: wouldn’t be handy to be blocked when he actually needs a call. but zhiruo is a little prickly, so he’s extra careful with her. 

some things are unavoidable. this isn’t, but it’s a really good excuse.

he doesn’t expect her to pick up the phone. he makes sure to not call her work phone but her work work phone. can’t go messing it up now and making her look bad, can he? 

natsume shoves his phone between his ear and his shoulder, inspects his fingers to clean. “zhiruo, baby, baby. boy, you will not believe what i have for you.

“a real hokusai. or at least i think it’s real. definitely horny enough, you know? but that’s your job more than mine.” 

the snapping of a latex free glove coming off her hand isn’t nearly as loud as the specific brand of chimes alerting her that someone from the president’s club is calling her. it doesn’t usually ring this time of day, as the majority of them have day-jobs or other appearances to upkeep during the week, but she tosses the non-specific glove into the garbage next to her lab table anyways.

a slow exhale prefaces her swiping to receive the call. she doesn’t even bother greeting him, or even acknowledging him. knows that once he hears she’s picked up - he’ll tell her everything she needs to know immediately. some old dogs can be taught new tricks. chew them out hard enough and they will.

“30,000 pieces of artwork.” she states, phone held to her ear. “out of 30,000 pieces of hokusai artwork, you land one of his shunga pieces for me?” but the prospect is interesting. there’s always some talk of various hokusai pieces turning up in the most interesting of place - hell, monet had about twenty-five of them.

then, because she’s in probably the best mood she’s been in a while, she pinches the bridge of her nose. hokusai pieces aren’t usually forged, people usually go for the bigger, euro-centric artists, and there’s only about eleven of hokusai’s erotic pieces out there, so she throws the dog a bone as a reward. “how horny, though? cause if it is not borderline scandalizing it isn’t his brand.”

[xxxxprjinil]

BARGAIN

[yuhuangzhou]

prjinil‌:

[ ... ]

pan to him now in her office, nudging what might either be a modern art piece or a paperweight in a slow-moving line across the edge of her desk. she’s finishing up a call, and he’d gotten annoyed over that fact three and a half minutes in. jinil only manages to find patience when he’s getting paid for it. four minutes later and he plucks a ballpoint from a holder, scrawls a message on a post it and sticks in on the file she has opened in front of her–

are they that important?

his fingers wrap in a staccato beat against the wood. mahogany maybe. bored enough that he’s contemplating carpentry. lovely. 

“finally. jesus christ.” a heavy-lunged sigh when the receiver’s clicked down. he shouldn’t take the lord’s name in vain, he calls himself christian after all. 

“i came to follow up with you, about your contact. jung hobin, right?” jinil says right like he hasn’t asked her about the same man at least five times by now. “i heard he’s looking to sell some of his collection…?” that one’s dragged out at the end, like he hadn’t already known it for a week and a half. 

it’s one of those calls that cause you to close your eyes to focus. one of those calls that, if her feet weren’t actively causing her physical pain, she’d be pacing. but zhiruo’s breaking in a new pair and today turned into a much longer day than originally anticipated so she’s stuck stationary behind her finely polished wood desk. ask her about what type of wood, and she couldn’t tell you - doesn’t really have any patience or pause for interior design or furniture, ironically.

but the click of the door opening has her cracking open one eye, and the wave in once she recognizes the face is only for show. he’s already halfway across the office when her elbow settles back down on the desk, hand hanging off the side as she stares at him toying with a miniature lynda benglis replica yongji had made her as a practice run for one of their next potential projects.

pretty important. she scrawls back, pausing a bit to think of the next characters that need to make it on the page. she’s never been particularly good at languages, but she’s certainly had to learn. her english is her weakest, so while she’s speaking in it on the phone, writing korean actually proves quite difficult. more important than you at the moment. and it’s true. she’s been working on this contract for a while now just because they’ve apparently got the loop sculpture by tony cragg sculpture in their own private collection. it sounds like a dud, but just on the off chance...

zhiruo ends the call with the scheduling of a follow-up, but she tastes bitter words in mandarin on her tongue when she sets the handheld down on her desk with a little more force than necessary. so maybe she’s not in the best mood.

“yes, jinil.” at this point she turns in her chair so that she’s sitting at the proper angle, writing a few notes down underneath their little message exchange, a combination of mandarin characters and english letters. “your current obsession, hobin. looking to sell four pieces. but you know that already.” she doesn’t bother looking up as she shuffles a few pages to the front, dog-earring the pages that she needs to take another look at on a different day. “but you knew that already.” you always know. “if you want in, you will need to contact his estate’s office and ask to speak to his secretary. i’m not giving you his personal number.” jinil is fine on any normal day, maybe even above-average company on really good days, but he’s a persistent little fly on some of his less than pleasant days.

clicking the pen, she retracts the ink and starts to tap the tip on the front of the folder. “his pieces are extremely rare, which once again - you know.” for the first time since ending her phone call, she looks up at jinil who is still standing. “good luck getting through his secretary, though. daeun’s a bit of a tough screener.” she’s a bitch, is what she wants to say, but zhiruo’s the pot and daeun’s the kettle.

[yuhuangzhou]

*yikes*

because i’m absolute trash i did this whole thing in reverse order...this is my overdue questionnaire!

NAME/ALIAS: aza (i love it when people can only respond to me with my name in all caps it means i’ve done a good job) AGE: 23 but i feel old as time DO YOU HAVE ANY FAVORITE HEIST MOVIES? the thieves! SO MANY of the ocean’s movies (but 8 specifically)! baby driver (love the soundtrack integration!)! dog day afternoon! OH AND ALSO that part in sense8 when they’re breaking certain members of their cluster out from the gov’t holding facility!!! love me some sense8!

y’all...this got super long so i’m putting it under a read more. i’m so, so, sorry...getting real tired of my own shit fr fr

DESCRIBE YOUR CHARACTER’S AESTHETIC:

sweatpants paired with pumps, stupidly cold days where the sun is bright as shit and you’re hot in the direct sun but so cold in the shade as you’re walking with a jacket on, the cold side of a pillow that you’ve flipped over on a hot night, excessive pillows on a bed, sneakily dumping your shot of baijiu, soju, or vodka down a sink or into someone else’s cup or into your own water cup (more on that below!), the kind of smile where your whole face just goes in on it - HARD - like eyes are just CHEESING and it make you feel good when you get one of those directed at you, hair perpetually down and curled or in a low pony (we ain’t showing no back of the neck for free, y’all!), when your ice cream cone breaks at the bottom but there’s the chocolate there to stop the melted cream from trickling out the bottom (coming in clutch)

IF YOU HAD TO COMPARE YOUR CHARACTER TO ANY FICTIONAL CHARACTER, WHO WOULD YOU PICK?

zhiruo falls a bit under the “lovable alpha bitch” stereotype so if any character i’d say among the lines of galinda/glinda from wicked or even a bit of quinn fabray from glee...during the moments where you didn’t absolutely fucking hate quinn fabray and also the writers for butchering her character/personality from season to season but mostly glinda vibes. zhiruo’s got lots of character development incoming - stay tuned!

IF YOU WERE IN THE PRESIDENT’S CLUB, WHAT WOULD BE YOUR SPECIALTY?

honestly maybe the getaway driver...i don’t road rage but when someone’s trying to race me i get really competitive and leave them in the dust but DON’T DO THAT KIDS DRIVE AT THE SPEED LIMIT! otherwise personality-wise probably medic 2!!!

WHAT DREW YOU TO THE PRESIDENT’S CLUB?

love, love, love heist movies! also - the canons were all so well thought out and the skeletons for them so varied and wonderful! plus, seeing the faceclaims and variety of muses and muns is so!!! awesome!!!

LASTLY, SHARE SOME FUN OR INTERESTING FACTS ABOUT YOUR CHARACTER

doesn’t drink. not even socially. has somehow gotten by with getting a club soda and a lime at bars and pretending it’s a vodka soda. OR, getting a shot poured for her and dumping it into her water cup and just never drinking from the water or she’ll get a new one. OR dumping it down the sink when everyone’s knocking it back (if they’re in a kitchen/home) or just generally weaseling her way out of it. got SUPER FUCKING sick at like 13 and never got out of her head about it. if you can get her to drink you are SOMETHING else then! has been tipsy/drunk a total of like, four times in her lifetime. good luck if this is your muse’s goal. it’s a worthy one but i’ll be hard!

she does have a stress or social cigarette every now and then though. but she IS that bitch that uses a cigarette holder because she doesn’t want her fingertips to smell, especially if she’s handling precious, priceless art soon after.

fucking l o v e s jewlery. like it’s her achilles heel. heels come a close second though

zhiruo’s not married (clearly) but she wear a big ass teardrop diamond (smth like this) on the ring finger of her left hand. started doing this when she was 27 because people kept asking her about it and now when randos ask she just goes ‘we’re very private but i’m very happy.’ less people ask about it now since her reputation kind of precedes her/that basic info is known among her contracts/contact in her professional life BUT in regards to president’s club...will forget it’s there though - at this point it has no meaning it’s just an accessory she constantly wears. so, let the chaos ensue if your muse is like *eyes emoji* who’s the bae? zhiruo: what credit where credit is due - came up with this while talking to @prdaimu​

hates sandals. hates slides. just doesn’t believe in them. anyone who consistently wears them she’s just *gagging noises* and will refuse to look at them from knee down.

when she’s done with a conversation or completely done with her train of thought she raps her knuckles against the table or any surface she can get a hand on twice

is really insecure about her height (she’s not short, she’s average height....) BUT it’s because her adopted parents are REALLY tall and it’s just become this weird complex even though she doesn’t give shit about anyone else’s height

really has a weird thing for glasses. thinks they’re super cute and attractive

also has a thing for FRAMES. a good frame should compliment an art piece or be virtually unnoticeable. she has many hard opinions on frames so if you want to hear her talk on and on about something she cares about...ask her about the ugly ass frame around the dali piece at the moma in nyc!

[yuhuangzhou]

i almost gave myself a fricking finger cramp liking all your intro posts/prclubtalk posts...goshDARN you guys are so active already! i go grocery shopping for 2 hours and the dash is completely full of new content and amazing writers???

i leave you guys alone for TWO! HOURS!

anyways hi everyone!!! so excited to be here! call me aza and i’ve also gone by wren before. if either of those names sound familiar it was PROBABLY me (but i absolve myself of anything embarrassing it’s been YEARS since i’ve been really active in krp/indie) and i’m one of your resident dumpster fires in human form!

i don’t use enough periods and use almost exclusively exclamation marks in casual convo and i’d love to plot with you all!!! let’s get into it!!!! leave a like or a comment or slide into my messages if you’re interested in plotting/writing!

this is her whole bio but here’s a quick and dirty rundown

parents were fake designer handbag/scarf sellers on the streets of guangzhou, and she loved trying to pick out the differences in a fake vs a real one, but her dad got arrested (on additional charges), and her mother split so she took her ass to a police station

adopted at age 9 into a wealthy family (older couple) and she realized that this was a fucking amazing opportunity. took advantage of it, fell in love with traditional art during the art education aspect of her high-brow education, and from there devolved into exploring all sorts of mediums and traditional/contemporary artists!

but also really enjoyed criminal justice, knew art wasn’t necessarily a stable career path (plus she can’t do it herself), and so went into the forensic arts as a lab tech for 4 years or so. no one took her seriously at first, just thought she was a pretty face but BAM comes along a case and she fucking solves it because it involves a real? fake? jackson polluck piece. pretty high profile case, so she gains some recognition/starts building up a reputation

from there, she dips from the lab because *double middle fingers up* and starts making connections with people from the art world and specifically from the art auction world.

works with/studies under/interns her time to other art scholars while being selective in contracting out her time (aka make it super fucking hard for people to schedule her time, and then the more they’re willing to beg/pay to get her specifically). as her art scholar/art historian resume builds, she continues to take on only high profile auction jobs

to the point where if she’s at an auction, prices on specific pieces with her seal of approval go up by the million - and also if she says it’s a real piece, people are generally inclined to believe her (which might make everyone’s jobs in the president’s club re: art a little easier, but only by a smidge)

as for her as a person...

she’s a bit of a priss? a bit of a bitch! but not really it’s just all a *krp voice* defense mechanism.

and like, she generally maintains a ‘classy’ air due to her teenage years of upper class living/manners/education which for the most part broke the streets out of her, but it’s kind of an...insecurity of hers, even after all these years.

obviously has abandonment issues so she doesn’t like to let people in past close platonic relationships like...familial and romantic relationships? PHEW! forget about it!!!

thus has resigned herself to the fact that she’s going to be without a partner for the rest of her life, but is okay-ish with that (as it’s kind of a natural human longing to be loved) so long as she’s doing something she loves and is surrounded by interesting people (and oh hey, that’s all your muses!)

speaks english pretty fluently, but does retain an accent

has those UGLY designer baggy clothes, but hates wearing them because they’re just ugly AND expensive. she’d much rather wear oversize, cheap, comfy clothes with hair tied and glasses on - or get completely dolled (hair? DONE! makeup? PRISTINE!) up in a $$$ sheath dress. extremes. she lives her life in them!

yeah she fucks! she’s thirty-one! considers physical relationships as just something that needs to be sated every now and then. i’m comfortable with nsfw themes, but if you’re not don’t WORRY and don’t feel like you need to incorporate it at all...i’m just in the camp of ‘i don’t think people should be afraid of talking about that stuff for their muses’ lmao

loves a good red lip, honestly

absolutely fucking hates sandals. thinks they’re an absolute abomination

biggest ‘social’ pet peeve is being interrupted while in the middle of a sentence/thought. she will literally try to bite your head off if you consistently do this (especially if you know her/KNOW that sets her off).

honestly? get your butt over her and let’s plot! (imma go make dinner real quick, and in about 45 minutes come back and respond to things!!!!) looking forward to it, guys!

[wandering-songstress]

Ni Ni (倪妮) photographed for Gucci

[devotedtothetruth]

Ni Ni (倪妮) - 200x320