Only a little bit scary

[0phelia-c0mplex]

001. Please, do not follow if you are under the age of 18.

002. Do not bother harassing me for whatever reason.

003. I am Semi-Selective. I usually do follow back.

004. Grammar and Proper courtesy among Mundane is a must. If you start off with a rude reply, even if it’s in character give a heads up.

005. I do have Icons but that being said. I don’t expect everyone to have an icon. I may not even post an Icon in every post. Because I’m lazy and don’t feel like creating one. This also goes with Text aesthetics; it's no big deal. I’m rather simple myself. I’m about the content, not visual content.

006. Very little Triggers me. Politics | Beastiality | Pedophilia 17- | Furries | Trypophobia . I usually use Tumblr to filter these posts. So please tag. (Seeing these pop up rarely will just make my eyes roll. Excessiveness will be blocked) If I see it I will not harass you about it. I will simply deal with it my own way and would like you to do so too. You are responsible for your own Triggers. Do not place responsibility for your triggers on anyone else, especially me.

Cell-FRIENDLY PROFILE

GOOGLE DOC ↓↓↓↓↓

-------------------P R O F I L E

LORE STARTERS-Memes

[0phelia-c0mplex]

Damn it, I wrote the whole lore about Effigy work just for Tumblr to get this BLOCK got an error and cannot be previewed. Closed out because I saw that auto draft thing come up, just for it have nothing! Nada!

[diviningtime]

Lilia had heard the potential customer enter even before she called out; the quiet chime above the door, the beads hanging near the entrance, were all subtle cues to alert her from wherever she might be in her home at the back of her shop. People felt bolder, more confident, looking for their fortune to be told when the psychic wasn't already sat there waiting for them.

"Welcome to the curious," Lilia greeted, gracefully pulled aside the beaded curtain, her brown eyes quietly studying the girl as she stepped into the room.

It didn't take much time to know this girl was different; Lilia could sense it almost immediately. She had gifts, powers, that could only belong to a witch. Yet, knowing from her own very personal experience that not every witch wanted to be known, Lilia simply smiled, revealing nothing.

"Are we looking behind us or ahead?"

[0phelia-c0mplex]

Ophelia spun around, startled, before smiling brightly. The lady had seemingly snuck up on her while she was admiring the place. The older woman looked personable as she posed her question. "Oh," she let out, tilting her head slightly to the side. "I didn't think..." she paused. "I mean, I didn't know you could go either way," she admitted. She sighed, looking off to the side, giving herself time to think. "There are things in my past I still would like to know....but...I'm still so uncertain about my future as well," she said softly.

She shook her head and released a high sigh. "Which do you prefer to do?" she asked. "I feel like whatever you think is the most prudent," she started to ramble. "Uhh, never mind, maybe I shouldn't do this," she felt confused with all the potential what-ifs. "Sorry for wasting your time," she said, making her way towards the door.

[bizarreauhavre]

Voodoo doll, Caracas, Lisette model, 1954.

[0phelia-c0mplex]

Ophelia wandered into the shop. She always wanted to get her fortune read. Though at the moment, there didn't seem to be anyone around. "Hello?" she called out. Maybe there was a CLOSED sign she didn't see before entering.

@diviningtime

[rockinrpmemes]

REBLOG if you rp with people despite not having the same “style” as you.

IE: You format, they really don’t. You use eeny teeny micro icons, they use regular/larger sizes….You don’t use icons at ALL but they do, etc etc….This doesn’t mean you quit writing your way, you still do you, but you don’t discriminate because someone’s threads and blogs don’t “mirror your aes” 

& BE HONEST!!!!!! 

Please don’t reblog if you say you are cool with mixed replies, and really aren’t. This post is meant for >>>networking<<< with fellow rp’ers that DO mix and match.

[brokenthebarrier]

West remained guarded, eyeing the woman as she stood up. “Just because you’re buried here doesn’t mean it’s your private cemetery.” His tone was venomous, but that was his normal welcome when not in a professional setting. Regardless, it seemed as though he’d scared her away, either with his attitude or with whatever association she made that she seemed to spurn almost immediately. 

“Am I to understand then,” Herbert said, turning to face her and mustering a pompous affect, “that you are up to no good? After all, you were out here before me.”

[0phelia-c0mplex]

Her stroll paused, for a moment, taking in his words. She looked down. "No," she said at first. "But it makes sense that at least this part of the cemetery would garner fewer visitors," she said, hinting at the idea of not running into someone around this side at the very least. She started off again, his tone was not welcoming at the least, her suspicions of him—rising.

Once again, she paused, twirling around to face him once more. She stared at him. It had been a long while since she ran into someone brash and confrontational. She stared long before shaking her head lightly with a soft smirk. "Maybe," she replied before scoffing out a smile, "But logically, maybe I just wanted to be sure I'd be alone or uninterrupted," she added. "How can I blame anyone when they run into people...with a tone and attitude like you," she said defensively finally. She swallowed, her mask of confidence slightly breaking as she looked him over once more before turning again.

She began to quickly hurry away. No, he was definitely up to no good. If he wasn't, he wouldn't have been so venomous; then again, perhaps he wasn't a people person. She wasn't exactly either, but she knew enough to know how to disarm them to get them to leave her alone. She walked passed the tall grass that brushed around her skirt like an odd warning. Though she wanted to leave, she didn't trust the stranger. She made it out of the iron gates of Christchurch Cemetery, and it was near dark. She sighed relieved, knowing she got away. She took a few steps before her eyes widened, her nerves rising. "Oscar," she breathed out, turning once more. She stared back out at the cemetery. Twilight, overcoming the horizon, stars lightly twinkling. She swallowed bitterly.

A small breeze blew. She didn't want to go back in there, risking running into the crude stranger. Though at the same time, what if he was still around? What if he sees it? Her leg shook nervously, frustration rising. She closed her eyes; it was a risk she was willing to take. She doubted he wanted to be on that side of the cemetery in the first place.

Suddenly, the small bear that was leaning lifeless sprang up and immediately started running towards its master. Its small feet were practically silent against the ground, but only when it ventured through the tall grass was anything noticed. He was quick as he rushed across the cemetery towards the gates. Ophelia smiled brightly as she bent down as the bears arms rose to be picked up. She picked up the small bear and hugged it before turning back around, heading to her vehicle.

[nocturnekks]

[mournfulroses]

Anne Sexton, from a letter featured in Anne Sexton; A Self-Portrait In Letters

[nocturnekks]

[lustingupon]

[brokenthebarrier]

It wasn't a particularly common occurrence to hear someone talking in the cemetery. This was mostly due to the fact that it was occupied primarily by people who were not able to speak (not without some assistance anyway) but also due in part to the way it drove the more talkative, prospective visitors about as far away as possible. Hearing a very soft, articulate voice ring out from one of the less-traveled corners of the cemetery was especially surprising. Herbert hadn’t spent much time in Christchurch Cemetery since moving to Massachusetts, but he had made a point to visit once or twice in order to acquaint himself with the lay of the land and to familiarize himself with any of the groundskeeping staff…none of whom seemed to exist. This voice was the first and only voice he had heard during any of his trips. He found it nearly impossible, therefore, not to follow his curiosity and sneak a little bit closer to attempt to determine what was being said and by whom. 

At the sight of what he thought was a strange little bipedal animal making its way back toward the speech - narrowly avoiding his path, by the way - Herbert found what little stealth he possessed to be sapped of him, and he knew immediately he had given himself away. Damn. 

He could just turn now and walk away. This person hadn’t actually seen him. They’d just thought they’d heard something. People were very easily convinced not to believe their own senses if dealt with haste and confidence, but there was still the burning curiosity that Herbert knew was going to result in an inevitable conversation - something else he preferred not to have. Nearly sighing in annoyance at himself, he stepped out into the open, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his black peacoat, gaze as intense as it ever was and landing immediately on the sight of a young woman who…might have looked familiar. He wasn’t sure. He honestly didn’t often give young women much more than a cursory look. 

[0phelia-c0mplex]

Ophelia simply looked up as an individual just stepped out from their location. His dark gaze, through clear lenses, was piercing towards her. It was somewhat intimidating, but his overall appearance was one who was a mere visitor to the cemetery. "Oh," she let out with a slight tilt of her head. She stared back, wondering if the stranger was going to say something, but apparently not. Like a petulant teen who got busted doing something they weren't supposed to and now just stood there....salty.

"Sorry, I didn't expect to find visitors...especially during this time of the day," she admitted, looking away, thinking about it. It was shady. Usually, people who wanted to be left alone or were up to no good came around this time. "Especially here in this part...my Uncle's family reserved a good chunk of the land in this section," she revealed, standing up and dusting herself off. She was a little bit nervous. She tilted her head, and he looked somewhat familiar.

"I think I've seen you around before, it was..." she pauses, it was an Occult shop, browsing the curiosity jars. She shook her head, shutting herself up. Pushing the thought out of her head. "No, never mind," she said, dusting off her knee-high wool skirt a bit more. She began to walk past him to head back out. "By the way, you shouldn't be out so late," she warned, looking him over. She slowed her pace to a mere stroll. "Others might think you're up to no good," she said in a haughty tone that would be hard to distinguish between insult or playful tease.

[mournfulroses]

Nikos Kazantzakis, from a letter featured in The Selected Letters of Nikos Kazantzakis

[l-ethiferous]

"You do have a fondness for them," he shrugged nonchalantly. A faint memory resurfaced in his mind, of when he was still alive; recollections of his mother back in Castro Laboreiro e Lamas de Mouro, where she had an entire collection of dolls whose features were lifelike....far too lifelike for his younger self's liking at the time.

Honestly treaded way too close to the uncanny valley territory for his liking.

But, nobody asked his opinion and it's not like he had vast knowledge on the subject matter. He suppossed there could have been worse things to be fanatical about; she could probably start turning people into dolls.....what a horrid idea. He could envision it now; the unfortunates still alive, screaming silently forever and while gazing through glassy, empty eyes.

Well, his mind did often wander to where it shouldn't, this was no surprise.

Hooded head shook, as it to detangle from such thoughts, "Actually, didn't really notice that one," he mused, actually acknowledging the one she indicated for the first time.

[0phelia-c0mplex]

Ophelia eyed him curiously at first. Though it seemed something about her dolls or what she said subconsciously triggered him for a moment. Her smile faded, replaced by a curious gaze as she noticed Danny's eyes glaze over in recognition. As if he were remembering something. She swallowed, giving him a moment before releasing a nervous chuckle.

"Heh," she breathed. "Well, Wolfy is one of my favorites," she admitted. She reached out and placed a gentle hand behind the wolf marionette, its fur dry, dull, and clearly showing its age. "He was used most often in fairy tales, always the...big...bad...wolf," she sang in jest. She let the marionette slip through her grasp, its strings bringing it back towards the wall. She let out a gasp, trying to change the subject. "Enough about me, how have you been?" she decided to ask. "What have you been up to?" she asked.

[lost-monster-16]

This is a place where secrets are hidden behind stone walls and learning is almost a magical ritual.

[0phelia-c0mplex]

It was near dusk, her favorite time of day, as she made it to the old and nearly forgotten cemetery. She entered the old cemetery, with its long grass, mossy gravestones, and aged trees, and sighed. She nodded as she bent over and placed down a small teddy bear. It lay there on its back, lifeless at first, before it suddenly sat up and stood with a hop. "Go gather some wildflowers, Oscar," she said softly before continuing her way to the part of the cemetery she was looking for. It was quiet, just the sound of bugs buzzing by and crickets chirping. She can hear Oscar obeying his task as she makes her way towards the middle, near a large family crypt. The crypt belonged to her Uncle's side of the family. They owned this area of the cemetery. Ophelia stopped and eyed the old crypt before her eyes crept downwards towards the graves. She found the one she was looking for before making her way towards it. Her aunt said her mother hated the idea of being placed inside a crypt. She wanted to be out with nature. She respected her wishes and did just that. Since neither had expected their untimely deaths, her father was buried alongside her mother as she knelt down and sat on her knees. She exhaled as she dusted off some of the dirt and moss on their names. Damian & Vivian Voltaire. She was quiet as she could hear Oscar still scavenging about.

"I'm sorry it's been a while since I last visited you. Been even longer since I've visited Martha, too," she added. "I forgot to bring flowers, but I'm sure the fresh ones I'm bringing will be just fine," she started nervously. "A lot has happened since my last visit," she started with a sigh. "Where should I begin?" she asked before she shook her head lightly and began to blab about what she had been up to over the past few months. Soon, Oscar, her teddy bear, returned with a handful of wildflowers he picked. She smiled, "Thank you," she said lowly as she took them from him. She spruced them up a bit before placing them in front of the grave. Before she heard the sound of a twig snapping. Her head tilted inwards, her bear sat along the gravestone motionless once more, her eyes darted around nervously. "Who's there?" she called out, not sure what to expect. @brokenthebarrier

[0phelia-c0mplex]

what on earth is that thing?

"What? That?" she asked, looking over the object and smiling. "That's a 1930s composition doll," she answered. "I mean....it's old and chipping her painted eye is about to chip off, but she's antique, she's pretty... also very popular back in their time," she answered. She smiled brightly, "For a second, I thought you were talking bout my wolf, marionette," she said, hugging one arm, feeling a bit self-conscious suddenly.