Claire Keane
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ellievsbear
#extradirty
almost home
d e v o n
Love Begins
@theartofmadeline
Xuebing Du
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
occasionally subtle
Not today Justin
Game of Thrones Daily
Monterey Bay Aquarium
YOU ARE THE REASON
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hello vonnie
gracie abrams
Stranger Things
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from Switzerland
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Spain
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from Israel
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from France
@bells-and-crypts-archived
“Oh no! Are you lost? C’mon, I’ll show you the way out.. Unless you’re here for the tour.”
Like/Reblog this if you’re interested in interacting with a Groundskeeper Haunted Mansion OC!
No personals please!
THIS BLOG IS MOVED TO OVER HERE NOW!
Yup Im gonna make this blog its own, instead of a sideblog
TIME TO MAKE THE TRANSITION
theheadlessgroom:
“I think the Devil below had a little say in Miss Hatchaway’s attitude,” Randall remarked casually-nothing had happened in Constance’s live to make her so wicked, she had lived a pleasant enough life. She just got greedy, and rather than work for it, she decided she’d rather kill for it instead. And unfortunately, she got away with it in life, lived a cushy, wealthy life under an assumed name before she passed away peacefully, and became a plague upon Gracey Manor…
Not voicing this, however, he had begun to answer, “Yes, that’s Dorian-” when he heard Cryptie’s question, his attention turning to the little box. Tilting his head, he studied it curiously (didn’t look like anything belonging to Constance) before saying, “Go ahead, lad-I think it’s one of the Gracey’s old heirlooms, something belonging to Dori’s mother, I want to say-a necklace, or bracelet, something like that.”
The boy listened to what the ghoul had to say, picking up the box very gently, as if afraid of breaking it. Which he was. Very afraid. Tiny fingertips gently traced the intricate design that decorated the wooden box. It was relaxing to do so. He wasn’t too much interested in the contents. He didn’t deem it any of his business.
“I wonder why she’s so mean..” He pondered out loud, temporarily forgetting that the spook in question may by near by, or may not be. He didn’t know, nor did he care at the moment. He looked up to Randall again, a bit calmer that his hands now had something to occupy themselves with.
“What do you do up here?” he asked, quietly, politely. Some part of him wished to be friends, but he didn’t dare voice that. He’s learned to be very picky with whom he deems close..
Tbh I’ve been thinking about moving this blog to, like, its own blog instead of just a side one.. Should I do it??
Grace for Sale- Terrance Zdunich
Like this for a starter from Cryptie!!
Go ahead and cry little girl Nobody does it like you do I know how much it matters to you I know that you got daddy issues
Remove my caption and be blocked
I’ll call out in the night for my mother But she isn’t coming back for me Cause she’s ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ɢᴏɴᴇ
theheadlessgroom :
Randall’s brows rose in surprise-so the lad had some family here; not a common experience here in Gracey Manor, but a pleasant one nonetheless. He couldn’t help but give the faintest of smiles at Cryptie’s questioning, saying, “Well, most of it belongs to Dorian Gracey’s family-up here, you can find family heirlooms, clothing belonging to himself and his family, furniture, artwork, you name it, it’s up here.”
He then sighed and glared at some of the portraits and other furniture, grumbling, “Unfortunately, the rest of this junk belongs to Constance-the woman has clogged this place up from floor to ceiling with all her paintings and furniture and clothing…word of advice-don’t touch any of it. If someone so much as brushes against anything of her’s, she’ll turn this entire house upside down looking for whoever did it.”
The boy turned back to him, nose crinkled and face scrunched with a mix of worry any some other negative emotion.
“She really isn’t nice. Wonder who made her that way.” He simply stated. He’s found that people make other people bitter. Man, something must have made her really bitter. He began to shuffle around in small steps, looking at this and that, “I think I met Mr Dorian. He’s the one with the fancy clothes, and kinda curly hair, right? I think..”
He gingerly reached out a hand from his pocket to grab something, but suddenly, he winced and shoved his hand back into his pocket and whipped around to Randal, “M-may-- May I, t-touch this?” He seemed oddly hurt, but seemed to have no reason why.. The item in question seemed to be a small box, a little too thin and wide to be a ring box. It camouflaged well among the other knick knacks.
Mother where were you When tears fell down my cheeks Alone in this cruel world Why have you done this to me?
i’d do ANYTHING for family.
this is my family i found it all on my own
it’s little and broken but still good
yeah still good
I can tell, you’re a sᴜʀᴠɪᴠᴏʀ
When you’re sᴄᴀʀᴇᴅ, your hands 𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖈𝖍 And your shoulders 𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖘𝖊
But your eyes… It doesn’t show in your eyes. That’s how I can tell, Those eyes have seen things.
theheadlessgroom :
It was clear to him that Cryptie was all kinds of nervous about this meeting, and he hadn’t made it any easier on the poor lad with his attitude. Exiting his bedroom to fully address him, Randall replied, “Yes, I’m Randall, Randall Pace-sorry for being so gruff with you, lad, it’s…been a long morning.”
Pushing past this topic, not exactly wanting to dwell on it any longer, he tried to ease Cryptie’s obvious nervousness by saying, “So, ol’ Beau’s already given you the tour, eh?” Figures, Beau always gave the tours, not just for the mortals, but any new arrivals that come, seeking a home in Gracey Manor. There was plenty of room to stay and haunt-the Corridor of Doors, the Ballroom, the Graveyard, the Portrait Gallery…
…and yes, even the attic. Constance wouldn’t take the arrival of this newcomer well; in general, she ignored the new spirits (particularly since she felt they were all beneath her in so many ways), but if Cryptie was going to be staying in the attic with her, she’d probably throw a hissy fit-she already felt like Randall’s arrival impeded on the attic being ‘her’ domain, as she so put it, and having another spook taking up space would likely incite the same prissy attitude.
The boy offered a lopsided grin in an effort to be friendly, “Oh, It’s- It’s ok, heh, I didn’t mean to, t’yanno, barge in, or, anything, like that..” He trailed off again, his hands being shoved into his pockets as he glanced up from the staring contest he seemed to be having with the floor. There were so many things he wanted to touch. Dont... His lips pursed a bit.
His wondering eyes gave a quick look back to the spook as they spoke up again, but it was a flicker of a glance. “Yeh, he gave me a look around.. So did G’an’pa, he showed me around too..” He paused, “Theres a lot of things up here,” He suddenly seemed to blurt out. He took a bit of a shuffled step, looking around. He honestly seemed much more comfortable talking about their surroundings rather than himself.
“Where did all of this come from?” He didn’t stop to think if he was being rude. He hoped he wasn’t. His hands fidgeted in his pockets, his thumb and forefinger rubbing a die between his fingers.
you can’t protect everyone.
I have to Try.
theheadlessgroom :
Randall had been working in his room when he heard the little voice call to him, provoking a small groan when he heard it-he was already in a less-than-pleasant mood after an encounter with a particularly angry Constance earlier (no tell what had gotten under her skin), and was trying to unwind with a little needlework and music, trying to get himself back into a more pleasant attitude. He hadn’t heard the news of the new arrival.
When he heard the calling for him, he stifled a little groan, still decidedly grumpy after earlier. Fighting the urge to push over the mannequin he was dressing, he settled for grumbling a few choice Irish curses underneath his breath as he grabbed his cane and hatbox and opened the door, music still playing as he stuck his head out, asking shortly, “Who’s out there? Whaddaya want?”
Upon seeing the lad out there in the attic, looking particularly rigid, he paused, calming down slightly as he asked, “Who’re you?”
The boy winced back slightly at the tone. Embarrassment and anxiety boiled up in his chest, causing his hands to clasp together, his fingernails subconsciously picking at his knuckles as some kind of way to vent. He felt some urge to just yell his apology, yank his bangs down over his face and run off. But he did not.
“I-I’m-” He sputtered, gulped and then tried again, “I’m Cornelius. Call me Cryptie.” The boy trailed off. “I’m.. New here.” He certainly was not a spook. Too fleshy for that. In fact, he had a familiar face, the spitting image of one who had lived in the Mansion long ago, and one that lived in the mansion now.
“I j-just,” He stuttered, his lips pursing, his nose scrunching, trying to spit the words out, “I just... I Just wanted to, introduce myself. You to. ... Yeh..” Cryptie never was much of a talker around those he didn’t know, and he felt so awkward he just wanted to pick at his face or bury his face into his hoodie and take in the scent and warmth of comfort.
“You’re... You’re Mister Rrrrandall, Right? Right..? Thats what Mister Beau’guard told me, at least. Am I wrong? I hope I’m not.”
