( PSA. )
this blog is being archived!!
you can now find ophelia @shxkesquad
No title available
taylor price
almost home
will byers stan first human second

Origami Around
No title available

if i look back, i am lost
Sade Olutola
wallacepolsom

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Show & Tell

JVL

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
dirt enthusiast
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
DEAR READER
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
AnasAbdin
Peter Solarz
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States

seen from Germany

seen from Malaysia
seen from Portugal
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom

seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from Brazil
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom

seen from Türkiye

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from United Kingdom

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States
@thyorisons-blog1
( PSA. )
this blog is being archived!!
you can now find ophelia @shxkesquad
( PSA. )
this blog is being archived!!
you can now find ophelia @shxkesquad
( PSA. )
this blog is being archived!!
you can now find ophelia @shxkesquad
( PSA. )
this blog is being archived!!
you can now find ophelia @shxkesquad
( PSA. )
this blog is being archived!!
you can now find ophelia @shxkesquad
( PSA. )
this blog is being archived!!
you can now find ophelia @shxkesquad
( PSA. )
this blog is being archived!!
you can now find ophelia @shxkesquad
( PSA. )
this blog is being archived!!
you can now find ophelia @shxkesquad
“ O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend The brightest heaven of invention, A kingdom for a stage, princes to act And monarchs to behold the swelling scene! ”
independent Shakespeare roleplay blogs, written by SAM
lostbarebone
‘ —credence, ’ credence answered quickly. having gathered his sketchbooks, he hugged them to his chest and made to stand. he wanted to check his artwork right now—especially the gift he’d been painting for moritz, which surely must be mud-stained—but that would be rude; instead he offered his hand to the girl as he stood from his crouch.
‘ i’m sorry, ’ he said again, ‘ and thank you for gathering my things. may i help you stand? ’
ophelia couldn’t help the blotchy red that stained her cheeks at his entirely innocent request. it was hard to remember the last time someone had asked for permission before touching her. she reached up to clasp his outstretched hand ; it was cold and damp in hers. still, she squeezed it tightly as she hauled herself to her feet. even when both of her feet were firmly planted, she did not let go, nor did her gaze ever leave his sharply-featured face. he was lovely. she bit her lip.
‘ credence, ’ she repeated, testing the name on her tongue. ‘ i’m ophelia. ’
@inferiii
ophelia was blurring at the edges. she flexed her fingers, rolled her shoulders, shut her eyes against the seething darkness that had all too recently made itself known in the folds of her mind. she had left home in search of answers ; only after the death of her father had she forced gertrude to tell her EVERYTHING. all she had known to be true was a lie. the shameful word squib crossed out and replaced with one even more horrifying.
obscurial.
hidden, far-flung DENMARK was deeply rooted in the old ways------old understandings, myths, & traditions. there, darkness was expected, inherent to the harsh landscape. it was in their blood and bones. yet sheltered, repressed ophelia, brought up in a world of light and lies, knew very little of this dark side of magic, only to find it was deeper ingrained into her than most. once she felt that first spark of harsh, screaming blackness in her brain, she wondered how she could have gone all of these years ignorant to its existence.
she could not stay there, amongst the snow and ghosts. she needed answers. and so she had followed her prince to england, only to flee at the first opportunity. wandering the streets of london, ophelia felt a sense of freedom she had never known before. even with the death sentence singeing her veins, she could not help the secret smile that curled the corners of her mouth.
once more, she looked down at the card, stolen from her father’s desk. THE NOBLE AND MOST ANCIENT HOUSE OF BLACK, it read. one of their oldest allies ; distantly related, as most pureblood families were. she had arranged a meeting with their youngest heir. surely he would give her the answers she so desperately needed. ( and if he refused, well, she now had her ways ).
she entered the pre-arranged location: a pub near the wizarding part of town, eyes scanning the room for the head of dark hair and noble demeanor that would denote the young man she was to meet. Regulus Black.
@thyorisons
ilse said she would NEVER bring wendla here. ( it’s not for innocent girls like you. ) lately, though, wendla bergmann doesn’t feel so pious. all she feels is DIRTY, confused —– & ilse hasn’t visited in months. her chest ached to see the girl again, to pour her weeping heart onto the girl she grew up admiring & feel the safety of warm arms.
still, by the time she’d followed hanschen’s directions ( which took plenty of begging ) her feet were WEARY and her bones tired. her eyes were so busy scanning for that familiar wavy hair & stature she walked straight into another solid figure, falling against the hard ground.
‘ sorry, ’ she signed, not even knowing if the person above her would understand.
ophelia had been in a bit more of a hurry than usual, flitting through the streets like an errant nymph, hair a flyaway mess behind her. she had left the last house in a flurry, before the man could wake and find some other way to force her to stay.
she had only just turned to glance over her shoulder when she was struck by another figure. she stumbled back only slightly, hand automatically flying forward to catch the other--- though not quick enough. she winced in sympathy as the girl fell to the ground.
‘ no, no, i’m sorry, ’ she signed emphatically in return, holding out her hand to help the other girl to her feet.
“ NYMPH, IN THY ORISONS, BE ALL MY SINS REMEMBERED. ”
private & selective indie OPHELIA from Shakespeare’s Hamlet, written by SAM
н υ м α η ?
——— I don’t even remember what that felt like.
lostbarebone
credence flinched back from the stranger he had banged into, stammering apologies. ‘ i’m sorry, miss, i’m so— so sorry, i didn’t mean to— ’ the impact had knocked his pile of sketchbooks onto the ground; he knelt to pick them up, praying the muddy snow hadn’t ruined them.
‘ oh! ’ she said again, dropping to her knees beside the stranger, heedless of the snow that soaked through the hem of her dress as she attempted to help him collect his things. she clutched the rescued papers close to her chest as her eyes unashamedly searched the boy------ man? in front of her. she hadn’t seen him before, and his distinctive appearance would have ensured she remembered if she had.
‘ i’m so sorry, i hope your drawings are okay, mr. _______? ’
She’s known sadness, and it has made her kind.
Nathan Filer, The Shock of the Fall (via awakenedrey)
2-6 Word Starters
Send me one for my muse’s reaction!
“Are you lost?”
“As you wish.”
“Come with me.”
“Can you walk?”
“Dance with me.”
“Did you see that?”
“Do you like it?”
“Don’t go that way.”
“Don’t let them push you around.”
“Don’t try to talk.”
“How are you feeling?”
“How did you get here?”
“I brought you food.”
“I followed you.”
“If you need anything, call.”
“I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“I love the ocean.”
“I’m not answering that.”
“I want ice cream.”
“I will avenge you.”
“I’ve always loved you.”
“Laughing at me won’t end well.”
“Let’s go stargazing.”
“Let’s go swimming.”
“Let me introduce myself. I’m ___ “
“Lie still.”
“Maps and I don’t get along.”
“May I braid your hair?”
“Nice clothes.”
“Nice weather we’re having.”
“Please turn the light on.”
“Pickles are gross.”
“Show me.”
“That isn’t for you to know.”
“That you for saving my life.”
“There is a full moon tonight.”
“There is food in the fridge.”
“There is more to the story.”
“These clothes are ridiculous.”
“They think we are in love.”
“This is comfortable.”
“This is for you.”
“Wait for me.”
“Want me to go with you?”
“What did you do?”
“What is your name?”
“What is this place?”
“Where are we going?”
“Where did you put it?”
“Where is your sense of adventure?”
“Who did this?”
“Why did you come here?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Why don’t we slip away?”
“Will you come with me?”
“Words can’t hurt me.”
“You don’t have to take that.
“You look terrible.”
“You have the softest hair.”
“You rest.”
“You’re my everything.”