oozey mess
AnasAbdin
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Love Begins
No title available
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
shark vs the universe
Xuebing Du
i don't do bad sauce passes
we're not kids anymore.
styofa doing anything
No title available
todays bird
noise dept.
Cosmic Funnies
blake kathryn
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Andulka
Three Goblin Art
Jules of Nature
seen from Germany
seen from Brunei
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from Brunei
seen from Chile
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Mexico
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Canada
@hazeyxpasey
[Things are still batshit around here, and I feel like just about the WORST EVER for not having any muse and neglecting you guys.
SO Im going to risk a ton of “hi u got cam” adds on S.kype to post my SN here if you wanna get in touch with me (maybe plot, maybe that shall save my muse!)
hazeypasey
I hope everythings been great for you guys over the holidays!!!]
[Guys I am SO sorry I haven’t gotten to replies. Im so fucking goddamn ill right now BUT ILL BE BACK AS SOON AS I POSSIBLY CAN ILY ALL]
Hazel adored libraries. Big buildings full of information on the past and present of the world he was trying to adapt too. Unfortunately, he looked rather like a small homeless person, his clothes were old and ragged, stitched back together many times and with obviously little skill in doing so.
Most people, the normal people, moved away to other tables for reasons they didn’t understand. That feeling alone in bed in the dark, that indescribable nervousness of something unknown, those little glances to check the closet is still shut.
Currently, he was reading about a quite interesting human female that had traveled to another dimension via a rabbit hole. He sat leaning over, his mass of comb-murdering hair shielding most of the book and all of his face. Twitchy little fingers moving like spider legs moved the pages.
“I need assistance with…all of this. I need to purchase the things here.” Hazel held out the list with both hands and stared unblinkingly for a few moments. He had no idea what he was doing, he just wanted to bring what was needed.
He finally looked at what was in the mans hands, and his attention was torn to that. He was here for Tarot, afterall. She had sent him with her legible list, which was far to legible for him to read.
“May I have those cards? My friend would enjoy them. Do you have them in more…color? Perhaps neons?”
His hands halted in their moments as he finally looked up to regard the list, then further to the male standing before him. As far as customers went, he certainly didn’t look like the normal brand of people that came in, that was for sure. “We should have all of that,” Jem said at last, looking back down to the list.
He set the deck down and went to make his way to the other end of the counter just as the other male spoke again, asking about the Tarot deck. “I don’t know about one in neons,” he said after a moment of thought, “but we have a decent selection on that display,” he finished, pointing to a display toward the middle of the shop.
“You’re welcome to take a look while I grab everything on the list?” he offered, turning his attention back to the paper still clutched in the other male’s hands.
“My friend tells the future, you see.” he was speaking offhandedly now, looking at the displays, much like a child would when their parents had left them alone to explore. He abandoned the list on the counter, maybe part of his mind assumed the man would pick it up, though his conscious mind had just moved on to the displays.
“Hers are quite worn, blood is easy to get off, though it stains. But you should see the damage slime does to them.” he shook his head lightly at the memory. Bob had just been interested in the pictures on them, but it was spring, and he was secreting.
“Christmas is soon, it would be nice. Oh, and I have money of course.” He remembered what she had asked; that he didn’t acquire the things and disappear. She might need more.
He opened is tattered bag, and pulled out handfuls of crumpled money. Some were 1s, others were 100s. He piled them on the counter, and went back to looking at the pretty things.
Waking up Cha Cha opened his eyes slowly, confusion and searching filling his waking as usual. It didn’t take him too long though to calm from the horror of the white of the room and remember that he was in some mental institution, and that he had a new friend named Hazel. Though his head was still foggy and he couldn’t remember how long he had been here. The room was dark with only the slightest bit of dawn light in the barred windows. He rose from the bed, looking down to his wrists, not bound this time. He walked out into the empty hallway, empty except for the male guard in the middle and the bright nurses office down at the front. The guard nodded to him. “Goodmorning.” He nodded back and walked to the empty end of the hall, remembering nothing. There were rooms on both sides of him, some of them were closed and some were open. Sleeping creatures….. were they sleeping behind the closed doors? He rubbed at his head and made it to the end of the hall before the large foggy barred window. It was aggravating how he couldn’t see out of the window.
After a moment of trying to make out any image from out of the window he turned to try to other end of the hall. The guard was gone, if he had even been there at all. Everything was so quiet until there was a loud thundercrash and after a moment, the sudden heavy onslaught of rain could be heard.
Storms were a particularly busy time at Rainyday.
Some creatures needed their windows boarded up, to protect their things or nests. Some needed them open for the same reasons; damp was how they thrived.
The common rooms though, had to be shut up, and buckets had to be placed around to collect the water. Nobody wanted another incident, the last time the floors had been flooded, Bob had spent the day flailing and panicking. He had to be helped everywhere, and wet tentacles were not fun.
Hazel, with half a dozen buckets hanging off his arm, scuttled out of a room and handed the confused man a bucket.
“There is a large leak down the hall, Horatio makes a fuss when it drips in to his room.” He walked away no more than a few feet before he stopped, and cocked his head. It took a second for him to spin back, the buckets clanging together.
“Hello...Who are you?”
Hazels grasp on the concept of “breaking and entering” was a weak one.
His deep need to follow the protocols of etiquette demanded one knocked before entering any room that was not ones own. And he did knock at the door of the house. He even waited and rang the bell.
That was the extent of his understanding.
Once the required knocking was completed, his hand passed over the lock and handle of the door, and it rusted and crumbled, and he let himself in.
He had heard something. Things of the dark had music, it floated and whispered in the voice of flutes, and Hazel followed. His decisions, his past, they dictated his future (as time now was infuriatingly linear), and he felt deep responsibility to the things that sang.
Of course, this could be done while picking through a strangers house and pocketing shiny things.
While slipping a burnt out light bulb left on a table into his bag, he found something much more interesting than expected.
He had quite the experience with old Tomes. Books that called things, and recorded the songs of the Before Time.
This book, however, had one word that his chaotic brain zeroed in on. “friends”.
“Ba Ba Dook.” He said carefully, with a smile, looking at the wonderful fun little book. He liked the way the words came out.
Los Angeles was terrible.
He had come to track down the sound of flutes on the wind, it sang of something dark and vicious; something that might need Sanctuary.
Unfortunately, he had ended up mistaking four drug dealers and one out of work movie star for his monster. The most he had gotten was baggies of narcotics and a stolen feather boa.
Though he did catch a glimpse of Matt Damon on the Hollywood Tour.
As he was very close to giving up, he found a discarded business car with some sort of duck on the front, but it did offer professional investigation services, and these people must know the terrible city well. Much better than he.
He poked his head in to the office before the rest of himself entered, just after dark. Dark would make it easier to find his potential new friend.
“I did not have a form once, I just...existed. When the universe came I could dance with neutrons, watch stars pass between my own new molecules, ever changing.” he spoke dreamily, while the monster slammed his tail about.
“That still exists, within this..” he motioned at himself, and looked at his hands.
“What is it like to always be one thing? Are you able to remove that offending limb? I do have knifes, we could replaec it...with a Knife Tail.” his eyes glinted with excitement.
“Oh, those I care for are not relatives. I simply...have an obligation” The look of vague memory passed over his face in a wave, and was gone as fast as it came.
“No they are things of the dark, creatures as real as any animal of this world. They simply have had their...environments taken. They feed because they must, and in this new world of lights and internet press, they starve and die. I give them sanctuary, and safety. I procure their required diets for them. Or they eat those who come for photographs. Honestly, how many black and white images of old Asylums does the world need?” He rolled his eyes, still without managing to blink them.
“My family...” He breathed deeply and raised his eyebrows, letting the breath out in a huff, “*The time would be easy to know, for then mankind would have become as the Great Old Ones; free and wild and beyond good and evil, with laws and morals thrown aside and all men shouting and killing and reveling in joy. Then the liberated Old Ones would teach them new ways to shout and kill and revel and enjoy themselves, and all the earth would flame with a holocaust of ecstasy and freedom*....Of course you see why I attempt to gather the books capable of summoning them here. How would I acquire The Big Macs then?”
Hazel considered the statement, staring at his drink and looking deeper. On its own, the foul tasting drinks certainly had its effects. It would be a smart delivery system, perhaps imbuing the drinker with magic.
“Mmmm no. No these molecules are normal. They do not contain magic.” he stopped to sip his pink drink, as always his face curled int a quick grimace, and his lips smacked.
“And magic taste like cinnamon, this does not. It does not even taste like pink, if I am to be honest. But there is magic here, your face would not look like that without intervention of great powers.”
Caiden’s brow certainly lifted uncertain if the individual before him somehow escaped the basement of the hospital or they were something brand new entirely. With the protective shield of the town certainly seeming iffy, at best . He tried to keep himself out of the messes though. He didn’t need to know all about the disarray of this town. “ It tastes like..cinnamon. Well, I can say for certain that I’ve never heard magic described with a favor before.” An assumption of his own would have been that magic tasted like rotted rabbit carcass. But his opinion on the word let alone the ability was piss poor , at best. “ My face?” Oh now he was amused. “ No no, this right here - “ his hand waving in front of his own face. “ - is gentics, my friend! “ To take this conversation seriously needed a shot or two, Caiden thought. And he would act on it.
Hazel just looked oddly confused, and sipped his drink, not blinking and not attempting to stop staring in anyway while doing it.
Genetics we’re still an iffy subject for him. Hr himself made his body, and didn’t quite understand normal humans had no control over how they formed. To him, it made more sense that while in their womb, they made specific decisions. He judged them harshly for their bad decisions then, they were lazy with evolving. He would have chosen to evolve with Knife Hands.
“I am sorry, but even if you made good form choices, that is beyond the realm of human ability.” He took the little umbrella out, and put it in his pocket.
“There should not be magic here, but there is. I would like to know why.”
☾ [ HAZEL ]
There is a place that all can enter but few can find. Past the dreams of the subconscious mind and down the seventy steps of slumber, past the gatekeepers of old, one will enter the Dreamlands.
In the West lies the town of Ulthar, where it is law that no man shall harm a cat. It was a law long known to things much older, as they were gateways and secret keepers. Forever treading between worlds.
It was for these reasons Hazel was crouched outside the home in the middle of a Vermont night, staring unblinkingly at cat he had stumbled across on his way to the door. There was much to be spoken of, and many messages to pass on.
Ledan put his jacket on as he headed outside shivering slightly when first faced with the cold winter air as he trudged over to the car before he noticed the figure in the dark, almost hidden by the shadow. He narrowed his eyes slightly, trying to see whoever it was a little better.
It looked like they were looking at one of his cats, he couldn’t be sure with this lighting, but he was pretty sure it was Freja. The nephilim walked towards the figure not sure what his game plan was here, or why the stranger was even here.
❝ —— Hello? Are you LOST? ❞
“This universe is too long and large to be found.” Hazel said absently. A voice had asked a question and he had answered, he was still cocking his head and staring at the equally unblinking cat.
He nodded once, “Thank you, dear heart. C’ah ai ep shagg, hafh'drn.” Then his brow furrowed when he finally looked at the man that had spoken, looking him over with odd little head twitches instead of fluid movements, and stood in two of three solid moves.
“And where have you come from, heart? Are you the carer of this honored creature?”
Though the large woolen cloak he wore was once warm, it was worn and shredded, clearly stitched back together with terrible skills.It didn’t appear to provide much, if any, shelter from the cold, but the boy looked as if he didn’t notice.
When Hazel went shopping for ingredients, they usually included Basil and Thyme. It wasn’t often the things on the list were of the magical variety, or for that matter, written in something other than crayon and in a legible hand.
On top of that, grocery stores were easy to find and the isles were labeled; he knew what he was looking for. Hazel would pop into one, collect what he needed, and pop out.
This time he had to find a store, and then find someone to tell him what in the hell he was looking for.
After a long wander down random city streets, after throwing his empty coffee cup away after strangers kept trying to throw money in it while giving him a kind ‘im so sorry for your situation’ look, he finally found a store that looked correct.
He jerked his head up to find out why the door jingled when he entered, and then walked in holding his list with both shaky hands.
It had been fairly uneventful that day–not that there were really days in which there was more work than he could handle. In all honestly, he generally saw five or six people within a two hour time period–only three of which were usually customers who meant two wind up in an occult shop–and that number only increased during the holiday season.
Of course, having the idle hands he did, Jem couldn’t just sit around doing nothing all day–they weren’t due any new shipments until the next week, and he’d already organized all of the displays at least thrice over. Inevitably he wound up doing something magical, which was how he found himself reshuffling a deck of tarot cards just as the bell rang, signalling a new customer.
“Welcome to Simply Charmed. Let me know if I can help you with anything,” Jem called without actually looking up from the deck gliding through his hands as he cut the cards.
“I need assistance with...all of this. I need to purchase the things here.” Hazel held out the list with both hands and stared unblinkingly for a few moments. He had no idea what he was doing, he just wanted to bring what was needed.
He finally looked at what was in the mans hands, and his attention was torn to that. He was here for Tarot, afterall. She had sent him with her legible list, which was far to legible for him to read.
“May I have those cards? My friend would enjoy them. Do you have them in more...color? Perhaps neons?”
[Sorry I haven’t replied in a few days, Christmas seasons been hella busy]
INDIE HORROR BLOGS
I am creating a masterlist of horror related indie rp blogs. Please reblog with your muse and fandom in the tag. (If you’re an fandomless OC put that. )
indie witch | semi-selective | written by sydney
I’m taking back the crown I’m all dressed up and n a k e d I see what’s mine and take it (finders { k e e p e r s }, losers weepers)
When Hazel went shopping for ingredients, they usually included Basil and Thyme. It wasn’t often the things on the list were of the magical variety, or for that matter, written in something other than crayon and in a legible hand.
On top of that, grocery stores were easy to find and the isles were labeled; he knew what he was looking for. Hazel would pop into one, collect what he needed, and pop out.
This time he had to find a store, and then find someone to tell him what in the hell he was looking for.
After a long wander down random city streets, after throwing his empty coffee cup away after strangers kept trying to throw money in it while giving him a kind ‘im so sorry for your situation’ look, he finally found a store that looked correct.
He jerked his head up to find out why the door jingled when he entered, and then walked in holding his list with both shaky hands.
It was after dark Hazel wandered the grounds the most.
His friends, the Residents, they were mostly nocturnal. Things that had always crept in the dark. And it was the closest to his old home the world offered.
Sometimes he went to check for stragglers, humans that came with their phones and photo filters to the old Asylum. Things that needed to be dealt with to maintain sanctuary. Or messes that over zealous Residents made, so no photo-filter people would be alarmed. A few larger incidents had occurred, but they had passed into lore. Unfortunately, lore brought more cameras.
Most times though, he went to watch the stars. To see if those cold dots of poison had moved at all. But they just stared down with malice.
Some nights, like this night, he heard things creeping up through the woods. He found killing things without conversation first to be highly impolite. So he always waited, sighing at how loud their quietness was.
