#people are so fucking entitled you literally cannot make anyone favours not even once

[vettelcore]

killing all customers with my mind I have been at work for exactly 1 hour and 20 minutes and I'm already fed up of entitled assholes

[13ceremonialskrp]

                              STEP LIGHTLY, CHILDREN OF THE MOON

THE COVEN WELCOMES THE 9:30PM CEREMONIAL, KIM EUNJONG, A 21 YEAR OLD BLUE RACER SNAKE FAMILIAR

idiosyncrasy

ambitious, determined, resourceful

stubborn, impulsive, volatile

proficiency

healing: the (rather strong, ironically unwitting) ability to regenerate a living being’s wounds, cuts, bruises, and general aches and pains. although she has no control over when and where it happens, direct contact with the affected area is necessary to initiate the healing process. brushing against her won’t do anything, nor will grabbing her and willing her magic to flow through you. she cannot strengthen or weaken the extent to which her powers affect someone else, she can only watch as her powers spring to life in response to another. infuriatingly so, when she can’t even trust them to respond to her, their master. this ability is considerably stronger whilst she is in snake form, but good luck convincing her to slither in any other direction than away.

gorgon effect: a piercing gaze, quiet, calculating. or so they say. it’s enough to turn anyone to proverbial stone. while those under her gaze do not literally freeze, there’s a pressure there, enough to make regular people squirm, or at least feel the weight of it. it’s worked in her favour in the past, captivating in the worst ways, conveying intensity, influence, power - it’s no coincidence that most dealings tend to end in her favour, should she want them to.

ineptitude

the complete and utter inability to control when she transforms. even years after the discovery of her powers, her transformations are still ruled by emotion, particularly those of fear, anger, anguish. they are almost always a result of a loss of control on her part, mentally and emotionally, when her heart might burst forth from her chest, when the tears springing behind her eyes might never stop should she let them fall. she lets fear and hatred rule over her. fear and hatred of herself. though she’s come to terms with being a changeling, that does not mean she accepts it. it’s this aversion to her true self that prevents her from gaining any control over her powers. although she is a child of transformation, she stagnates.

reconciling her dual nature, or the difficulty thereof. it’s difficult for her to adjust to being human again after having been in snake form, especially if in said form for lengthy periods of time. the transformation sends her stumbling, first and foremost, but also leaves her incredibly weak, requiring days to stand without trembling, as if learning how to walk all over again. she’s left squinting in the brightness of the sun, with air she cannot keep in her lungs, with a heartbeat that doesn’t fit in her body, with an unease in the only body she ever should’ve had.

sanctions

although she is a changeling, she views magic and humanity as two separate things, two states at war within her, and so that’s what they become. fear of her own nature allows it to rule over her, and so the more she tries to run from it, the more it instills its grip on her, fear morphing her magic into something darker, drawing power from the wrong places, the underworld.

she becomes more serpentine as the days go by, small changes such as slit-like pupils. but also in her traits, becoming more like the serpents of old, vindictive and venomous, entitled in their sacredness, their closeness to the divine. more subtly, more dangerously, this leaves her open, more susceptible to dark forces, evil in intent, eager for her mind and soul, should she not make a change.

memoirs

0. blearily between blades of grass, she sees moonlight.

the sky is dark and inky. starless. the moon a waning crescent. all indications of passing time, of time passed and yet, she doesn’t know how long it’s been.

how many days, weeks, months it’s been. all arbitrary words to someone, something like her.

all she knows is the hunger that grips at her core, writhing, twisting, begging her to move, to do something. instead she embraces the cold, the sluggish numbness, and coils her lithe body around itself again and again in the hopes that it will consume itself, should the elements fail to do so.

she doesn’t know how long it’s been, or how long it will be until the end.

all she knows is that she’s stopped counting.

1. it’s all rather anti-climactic, she thinks. the way her life had changed.

that’s enough, her father had said, voice even, gaze clouded, distant.

the witch shows no reaction, only leans backwards in her seat, drops her hands from the table. she speaks, carefully: what is?

her father waves his hand around. all of this. because clearly, he pauses to chuckle, this… this is all a mistake. we- we never should’ve invited your kind here. into our home.

the witch keeps her expression neutral. the room is silent save for the ticking of a clock, and eunjung sees her father tremble for the first time. she chances a glance at her mother: screwed away, tucked into the side of a chair, hands white for how hard they grip at the armrests. both of her parents are looking pointedly away from her, staring at anything but her.

looking back now, eunjung thinks that they really did love her. but it was the simple fact that doctors, slaves to empirical reasoning, could never accept, could never be forced to believe in something not meant to be true.

fathe-

don’t! don’t fucking call me that, eunjung i- her father flinches, startles in horror, moves his mouth around the bitter syllables of her name, knowing that what was once daughter was now…

get out.

the words are simple. enunciated quietly.

no one moves. her mother holds her breath, eyes shut tight even as tears slip down her cheeks.

GET OUT OF MY FUCKING HOUSE!

her father’s eyes are crazed, desperation rushes up and out of his lungs, reverberates around the room, bounces from the walls, all sharp edges, unpalatable fear-

eunjung feels like the room is spinning.

the witch stands and sweeps eunjung out of the house in one fluid movement, as though she’s seen the extent of what human fear can do. the door slams behind them. eunjung knows that her mother will not break down until they are sure that she’s long, long gone. the witch grabs her by the shoulders, says something. shakes her firmly.

it’s funny. she can’t even find it inside her to cry.

so she’s ushered into a car, led by the arm and shoved in. they drive. as they always do. they take the highway as they always do, they pass over the bridge as they always do, they stop at a red light as they always do and

she gets out and jumps.

2. she runs away when she’s 16.

or that’s what she wishes to be true.

she barely feels it when it happens. energy rushing through her, tingling at the tips of her fingers down to her toes

and then she sees dancing dust, particles in a pool of moonlight streaming onto the floor. the room is darker, sharper, and at the base of the mirror she sees a snake.

brilliant blue, deep, rich, beautiful.

she screams.

thrashes around in a frenzy, slithers and shakes as though trying to rid herself of her own skin until she’s lying in a heap of exhaustion, tucked into a corner underneath her bed. she weeps, coated in dust, and desperately wishes she had tears. a deep fear takes root in her, sends her heart beating so wildly she thinks it might just give out and die. other times, she merely stares into the mirror at whatever monster looks back at her. wills for it to change back back back until she launches herself at the mirror, bashing hard against cold glass but there’s only so much a young snake can do.

a sound freezes her movements and she’s diving back beneath her bed-frame, coiled and aching, more fearful of being found out than of anything else.

it goes on like this for weeks.

her parents pace in and out of her room, wondering, worrying. her mother weeps, sometimes sitting atop her bed. eunjung silently weeps alongside her, and wishes for nothing more than to give her mother some comfort. but creeping, cold scales will do nothing but stop her heart.

when it happens again, she barely feels it.

she doesn’t know how, she doesn’t know why, but when she changes back the first thing she does is heave the contents of her stomach onto the floor. when her parents later see her reappear deathly pale, grey, covered in snot and tears, they don’t ask questions.

they’re just glad she’s alive.

and somehow, so is she.

3.i. she should’ve known.

she should’ve known that it was merely a matter of time.

for as much as she tries, how can you hide the monster that lurks inside of you, pretend to be normal when you know you are changed.

for as much as she tries, she can’t stop it from happening again and again.

and when it does, there’s simply no time to hide.

3.ii. it was a stupid argument.

but at the time, she remembers screaming her lungs out, ripping her bloodied heart from her chest and bearing it for them, her parents, the only people in the world who were supposed to love her unconditionally.

she remembers them, unyielding. cold logic, steadfast against anything other than their truth.

she remembers it happening then, quick and unlike before, like a bolt of lightning jolting through her veins.

she remembers hissing at them, raising herself up to her full length to look them in the eye. she remembers their faces, twisted and frozen in terror, her mother moving to clutch at her father, the both of them stumbling away from her, mouths babbling, unable to find any words.

monster.

she remembers the slow horror, the realization of what she had done, and when her father fumbles for a letter opener on the table behind them, she remembers her mother wailing, incomprehensible sobs: wait!

somehow, they loved her even then.

she lives through the night. and the days after, until they bring a witch inside their home.

4. her mother’s idea, eunjung’s sure of.

where she heard the whispers of magic, eunjung has no idea, but she supposes she is grateful to her.

it’s the witch that takes her from her room, that forces her to change back, that brings her shuddering from the pain down the stairs to be sat in front of her parents.

the witch talks for some time. explaining in simple terms.

that’s enough, her father had said.

the witch shows no reaction, only leans backwards in her seat, drops her hands from the table. she speaks, carefully: what is?

everything, eunjung knows. we tried to speak of magic as though it isn’t a curse, as though that isn’t a monster that sits at our table with a devil holding the leash.

get out, he had said, in simple terms.

somehow, they loved her, even then.

but it wasn’t enough.

5. blearily between blades of grass, she sees moonlight.

the sky is dark and inky. starless. the moon a waning crescent. all indications of passing time, of time passed and yet, she doesn’t know how long it’s been.

when she hears the crunch of the ground next to her, she makes no move to escape. she merely wraps around herself even tighter, taut in her shivering, and resigns her fate to their will.

but a single touch is enough to ignite her nerves ablaze, alive as they’ve never been before. she feels an energy coursing through her, magic, as she’ll come to know, eager, brimming, receptive to the other’s touch and instantly, they know.

she doesn’t know how long it’s been since she’s been in another’s arms, but they’re so, so warm that it burns.