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independent, selective roleplay blog for THE GROOM of Red Barrels’ OUTLAST: WHISTLEBLOWER. MINORS, DO NOT INTERACT.
HERE IS THE LINK TO MY INFORMATION ! ( ART CREDITS ARE INCLUDED IN THE DOC! )

roma★
AnasAbdin
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

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@theartofmadeline

Kaledo Art
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
todays bird
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

JVL
d e v o n

Love Begins
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KIROKAZE

Discoholic 🪩
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

Janaina Medeiros
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
seen from United States
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@carvesbrides
⌜🔪 REGULATIONS 🔪⌟
independent, selective roleplay blog for THE GROOM of Red Barrels’ OUTLAST: WHISTLEBLOWER. MINORS, DO NOT INTERACT.
HERE IS THE LINK TO MY INFORMATION ! ( ART CREDITS ARE INCLUDED IN THE DOC! )
MALPRACTIICE ✠ / / AVERY
in honesty, she hadn’t actually paid him much attention before offering the compliment. her focus had been solely on the store’s wares, leaving her interaction with its’ owner as an afterthought, a formality – and it wasn’t until the man’s tone in response elicited some inherent degree of unease that avery shot him another glance.
with the impulsive indiscretion of someone witnessing something they had by no means expected to see, the doctor failed thoroughly to restrain her gaze as she finally took in his appearance. had she been more prepared, she would have most certainly been more polite - looked away instantly - but unfortunately, she was many coffees into a day she had dreaded and had been woken up far too early for, and adequate alertness was not something she would consider her strong suit at the moment. as such, there was almost a full second’s worth of her eyes wandering where they, acceptably, should not have.
damn. she would be the first to admit that she preferred women, but there was no denying (even for her) that his physique was impressive. the scars marring his skin were most definitely a point of interest as well, but if her passive expression revealed anything in response to them, it was fascination rather than disgust. and then, within milliseconds, embarrassment, and a look that could be interpreted as no less than explicitly apologetic. shit.
❝ no, no, that’s – ❞ she shook her head fervently, ❝ if anything, i’m sorry for intruding. ❞ half of her genuinely meant that apology - he’d been too polite to warrant a ruder response - whilst half of her was still of the mindset that intruding upon an open store was not really intruding at all. even so, avery was willing to extend her regret.
❝ oh, no, ❞ she corrected, shaking her head in understanding of the confusion, smile returning to her lips, ❝ i’m not engaged. i’m a bridesmaid for a friend of mine who apparently couldn’t be bothered to be here herself, ❞ avery explained, bitterness anything but subtle in both her tone and her words.
❝ i’ve just been sent to scout out my favourite places for her to look for her dress. and so far, yours is - by far - the nicest. ❞
✠ / / Paired with her obviously vulgar covet, and fumbled words as she realized he had her pegged; Eddie had his decision constructed beneath layers of unbridled disgust. Flustered was the woman susceptible to her embarrassment- she was caught, her futile attempts at unfaithful acts displayed. Her reaction to his exposed torso performed its own show, reiterated overbearingly throughout his decaying mind. As the heat of his wrathful thoughts evoked powerful, curdling blood upon his cheeks, the seamster forced the faltering smile to remain unwavered. Knuckles protruding from his bent hand, ligaments taut against the whitened skin, the muscles restricted into a clamp upon the measuring tape.
❝ Couldn’t be bothered? ❞ The shock that struck the air whisked away his eerie smile, lips drawn into an obvious frown, ❝ Pardon my intrusion on the subject, but that is downright vulgar of her not to be undividedly involved. The gown is the pinnacle of marriage, not to be taken lightly. ❞ The matter-of-fact tone the tailor took on overlapped the pure aggression he harbored, around the edges of his words remained a two sided blade. This woman uttered word of the bride-to-be like it was not worth the trouble of her efforts, matching his own distaste from the news. Even as Avery expressed her gratitude for his emporium, the vexation the towering man harbored did not relinquish. It clutched his bones and forced his over processing, scheming mind into motion. ❝ Love and ceremonies should not be cast aside like an unwanted... thing. The least your friend could have done was accompany you. ❞
The irritation that creased his brow was obvious, though not overbearing. Eddie allowed his disdain for the fairer sex to overrule his reason to gain her trust, perhaps even attempt to court her. All he wanted was a stable love, after all.
❝ Have you acquired your attire for the ceremony? I have a multitude of options in varying colors, fabrics and sizes. Anything you may fancy, really. ❞ Offering a widened, welcoming smile, his chiseled features bore that of a humbled tailor, and nothing more. As if the uncomfortable amount of staring he had pointed her way was a ploy. Brisk steps approached the lass, hand tenderly reaching to hover over her back, not touching her a bit, as if to guide her to further back, to the other dresses fit for the occasion mentioned. This section was not secluded, but open- one may even note the vastly open window, exposing the gloomy weather outside. It was still public, and safe.
Make them feel as though they are safe.
sorry for my absence- ive been on vacation and it’s almost over!
more angst & post angst sentences. since this is the meme i see the most on my own rp dash, have a part two of sentences indicative of trauma and pain, past or present. feel free to edit the sentences to your own needs as you wish.
“ what happened to her? ”
“ is this it? ”
“ duty before love. ”
“ you were gone. ”
“ i keep seeing you. ”
“ please, don’t tell him. ”
“ i need to get you warm. listen, you’re gonna want to go to sleep, but i can’t let you do that, okay? just stay with me, stay with me—! ”
“ she figured it out. ”
“ you were too late. ”
“ i don’t want you apologies, i want my [relation] back! ”
“ i told you! why didn’t you listen?! ”
“ it’s me—wait! …please don’t hang up. ”
“ they gave me a new life. ”
“ and you believed them? ”
“ don’t… don’t touch me. ”
“ could you, for once, think about everyone you’re gonna leave behind if–/when/ you finally get yourself killed? ”
“ it’s nothing personal. ”
“ you’re going to have to kill me yourself. ”
“ it’s always been just you and me. you and me. no one else. ”
“ the worst punishment for a parent is to bury their child. ”
“ lie to me. ”
“ i already have [name] risking their job for me. i can’t risk anyone else. ”
“ you kill me, you’ll never find [name]. ”
“ he has [name]. ”
“ i don’t care what happens to me. do it to save yourself. ”
“ i—-i can’t breath…! ”
“ if /your/ family was being threatened, you’d do anything to save them. ”
“ i needed to learn how to never be afraid again. ”
“ please—just pull the knife out! ”
“ why do you own a gun? ”
“ i don’t know who to trust anymore. ”
“ you’ll fuck me but you won’t [go out with/date/marry] me. ”
“ we need to stop this. it’s too risky… and i can’t lose you. ”
“ i carried your coffin! ”
“ don’t follow me. ”
“ i’m mad at god. ”
“ none of it was real. i was just doing my job. ”
“ why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?! ”
“ i was the only survivor. ”
“ i never met her. ”
“ you choose your family, but it doesn’t change the fact that i’m still 50% him. ”
“ she’ll kill you if you don’t get out. ”
“ not if i kill him first. ”
HERETICALMOTHER ✠ / / VAL
She’s cautious, though she isn’t afraid. She can hear his violence, furniture being thrown, insults being shouted, and knows the situation is a delicate one. He’s a bomb waiting to go off; a bomb already going off, only not in her direction just yet.
She knows that the voice in the darkness cannot be trusted. She recognizes the feigned softness, the promise of safety that’s always too good to be true, and meets it with the same tone of her own. Two predators, waiting to see who will be turned into prey first.
“Trust is to be earned, my love,” Her voice is low for a woman’s; sultry, yet unmistakably feminine. She’s still as she speaks, allows him to pick up on where her voice is coming from, then moves before the information can be acted upon.
She’s careful. Light, graceful, footsteps take her quickly from one room to another, nearly imperceptible over the faint music of the record player and Eddie’s own harsh footsteps. Though she isn’t familiar with the layout of the basement, she’s familiar with her own body and it’s relation to the space around her. She’s used to the mineshafts of her home, used to using shadows and echoes to her advantage. She’s everywhere and nowhere at once.
She’s in another room entirely when she speaks again, still near enough to tempt him towards her but far enough to leave no shadows to follow. “It gets lonely down here, doesn’t it? It doesn’t have to be this way.”
✠ / / And thus, play time began.
Retracting aura signaled for Eddie to reassess his motive-- the stench of conscious selfawares reeled the lumberous man’s cerebrum. Aching muscles tethered to vibrating bones, the self proclaimed Groom progressed with delicate care; weight continuously distributed throughout the exterior of his deteriorated work boots. A voice answered him; it was odd, even as Eddie lumbered about, icy reaches of his ogles centering in on every crevice one may, by perchance, pleat themselves from him. The voice reverberated throughout the follicles of his obliterated mind, an echo. Realization. What he’d been pursuing, a flawless specimen. Vocals still quaked, regardless- the pitch intended naught if unable to focus upon a visage. Eddie, obligated to past mistakes, had to forcibly reminisce himself to a forbearing nature.
Even as the immense, powerhouse of a specimen traversed to the origins of her voice, Eddie found himself building an irritability rivaled by none. Debris tiptoed through the moonlit streams fluttering from an open window; empty space. Exasperation riddled the man’s wrenching gut, and it was then when he initiated a backstep of his previous footfalls. Knuckles protested against the clenched, taut skin; discontentment formulated a stoic expression. Chiseled stone, clenching skin rippling to mold into a statuette- hard muscle bundled to furied perfection. The game she comprised… was working. Words taunted him, an utterly opposite direction from the last. An abrupt, vigorous slam of a door snapping from the hinge provided Eddie passage, a step closer to the woman taunting him from shadow.
❝ Yes, yes, beloved! I couldn’t agree more. ❞ Hastened pace, edging himself further, in her direction. Accelerated. Val’s lyrics uttered with entirely opposing meaning, Eddie deemed himself ignorant to her underlying significance, ❝ Don’t be ridiculous... Why do you hide yourself, if you agree that the loneliness is unbearable? Show yourself to me, my dear... ❞
I might still forgive you.
just............thoughts i havent figured out
took a melatonin hours ago- nothing. c:
MALPRACTIICE ✠ / / AVERY
sc. || @carvesbrides
there were very few places avery WOULDN’T rather be at this very moment. it wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy dresses or fashion - quite the opposite, in fact - but there was very little about marriage, both in concept and practice, that didn’t repel her. she’d just never understood the significance of it, really: why bother, unless you’re looking for tax benefits or citizenship? who needs a piece of paper to certify their relationship, especially when so many of them just ended in divorce? it was just asking for hassle, as far as avery was concerned - an ANTIQUATED practice that seemed to have more to do with attention and a big, fancy party than love.
and that opinion would’ve been fine and dandy if she hadn’t drunkenly shared it with her bride-to-be coworker only hours after she’d asked avery to be a bridesmaid. which put her in a difficult position, with a very… passionate voicemail to wake up to the next morning.
as such, she had two choices - let a friendship be ruined because she happened to be a jaded asshole, or go out of her way to try to be extra supportive. unfortunately, to her current chagrin, avery had chosen the former. “anything i can do to help, just tell me,” she had said, the words echoing in her irritated mind as she cursed her past self. she hadn’t expected her friend to actually take her up on the offer, but the request to join the woman in looking for a wedding dress had most definitely proven her wrong.
her frustration had only grown when said friend cancelled on her last minute, but still wanted her to go check out a full list of bridal shops and come up with recommendations - but it wasn’t like avery could decline after literally shitting on the concept of marriage for a full half hour on the same night she announced her engagement. this was her penance, she supposed with a sigh, pushing open the door to the third shop she’d been in today (god, she needed coffee).
looking around, though, she actually felt herself smile, if only slightly - unlike her other destinations (corporate, boring, overpriced), this place actually seemed… nice. clearly independently owned, and even more clearly run with love. definitely more her friend’s style, and certainly less of a bore for avery. she might actually enjoy looking around here.
the dresses were gorgeous - she tried to be subtle as she snapped pictures of her favorites to send to her friend - and as she perused, her words were (surprisingly) genuine as she turned to the man she assumed either owned or worked at the shop with a smile:
❝ your shop is lovely! ❞
✠ / / She had tainted his vest.
Vexation pulsated throughout Eddie’s chest cavity, barricaded by festering rage conveyed by a chilling corpse. Usual outward demeanor consisting of pleasant, shimmering cerulean pools of inviting aura dismantled by the frustrations of a woman presenting fight. Butchered premature, without the proper extraction of fear and lust for prolonged torture, the tailor unable to snuff his prominent discontentment. Cerise blotched vest and shirt decomposed by lapping flame, the fireplace located within the confines of his personal quarters rendering the fabric to ash. A sluggish day this had been, ominous rumblings in the distance rendering aspiring brides useless as far as business goes. The fairer sex fled at the prospect of pattering rain- usually. Some bolder than others, scurrying from their nests to gather beneath his feet. And that is the prospect the seamster was faced with in the next counting seconds.
In feeble attempts to replace clothing tainted with evidence, the pillared bloke advanced about the vast, satiny wooden floor. Glamoured cedar protested beneath Eddie’s lumbering weight, oxford’s uttering a squeak of their own as he progressed. Chilled skin crawled against statuette bones, the tranquil jingle of the door’s adorned bell causing his brow to twitch. Within the midst of ceasing a button up shirt from the viewing racks, bottled agony swarmed within storm clad eyes as the woman uttered words of affirmation to the stilled man. Stoic expression caused his furrowed brows to observe the woman intently… malice meandering constraint to his spine, asserting his desire to proclaim her amiss to the public. Improbable height loomed above, Eddie’s abnormal, robust physique exposed to her prying eye. Muscles mirroring the mannequins surrounding the area, they abruptly corrugated beneath porcelain skin as arms shifted to dangle at his side. The seamster’s inflected musculature was a prime specimen of the masculine race, neck convulsing as Eddie shifted his crown to cock somewhat to the side. Beating moments tracked by Eddie’s own heartbeat, his bicep rippled with obvious authority- its mass rivaling a body builder’s, though not overly veined and skewed to appear gamey and… disgusting. An immaculate combination.
❝ ...Thank you, darling. ❞ Rumbled the man in utterance, obvious distaste in her winded glimpse of his abdomen. Scars marred the man in some places, evoking agony that resided beneath his tortured flesh, ❝ I’m awfully sorry for my obscenity, I made a mess of my garments. I should have made sure no one was around, how rude of me. ❞ The button-front shirt devoured his frame, before vacuuming against muscle as the fabric adhered to his skin… fitting similar to a glove.
Like a dime, a widened, toothy smile projected upon Eddie’s features; a daunting contrast to the eerie and domineering visage he wore moments earlier-- strained.
❝ Is there anything in particular you fancy? ❞ The malleable tape measure hung upon a hook a stride’s pace away was ceased, ready to… assist her eagerly. She had observed too much. Prying question, evoking urges to snatch her now-- make sure she belongs to no one but him. ❝ When’s the big day? ❞
Hey, Hey, L I S T E N
here, on this blog, you do not need permission to slip into my asks. just do it. even if we haven’t interacted before. even if you’ve sent 10 already. send me more. i love getting asks (in character or out of character) and yeah, i’m slow as fuck, but i promise you i will get to them. have at it, fill my inbox with memes or impromptu starters or just tell me how your day is going. it really doesn’t matter. just go ahead and do it. i promise, i don’t get annoyed seeing the same people in my inbox, actually it makes me happy because yAY MORE INTERACTIONS. so just do it.
i failed to do replies. i’m bummed about it but i’ll try again tomorrow. </3
inde. jeremy blaire & waylon park as told by bones sideblog, follows from vider fill out an interest check?
THIS IS NOT AN EXIT.
THEKILLERSTORY ✠ / / GHOSTFACE
@carvesbrides gets a plotted starter ♥
Hollow eyes watched the Groom as he paced, his place in the Entity’s realm still FREASH and NEW, like a fawn still learning the forest. Yet still, Danny did well to keep his distance. Sitting along one of the many brick walls that caged in their HUNTING GROUND. Not to far, but safe from the larger mans REACH. As the Groom moved closer, Danny whistled at him. Much like an owner does to GRAB their hounds attention. When their gazes met, the ghost grinned despite his features being HIDDEN by the frozen scream.
“ Hey there, big fella! “ With his greeting, a hand coated in leather rose, offering a WAVE. While cowboy boots hung lazily over the wall, his legs kicking just enough to make the heels CLICK, when they fell back into the brick wall where he sat, “ We ain’t met yet … You likin’ yer new home? “
✠ / / Denouncing ogles did, indeed, collide with the alabaster mask, immoble yet jarring visual containing The Groom’s attention. A singular moment, vexation imminent as Eddie’s temple contorted, product from a clenched jaw. Boot clad footfalls edged on, trudging about, occupying Eddie’s festering rage. Unfamiliarity, it overwhelmed sensors composed of wicked whims. The whistle had surged the desire to maim, chest heaving in ragged breaths. As the man’s lyric mettled where it should not, the newly acquainted man jeered, lips curling in obvious displeasure of Ghostface’s prying nature. Wielded in a vice grasp, digits whiten behind gloves absent of finger slots. His approach exposed unbridled rage, festering, seeping from his essence as the misogynistic serial killer solicited the other-- shadow overcast, Eddie’s scowl pledged immense harm.
❝ --Shut up, you filthy slut. I can’t hear myself think with your constant babble. ❞ Thus, as Eddie’s abundance of muscle mass ventured closer, all dismay might clamber at once. Daunting was he, boiled features flaked with healing skin. Although, duplexed by unfortunate rule, Eddie remained displeased as he wished to flay his victims without the supervision of this inaccessible whore.
❝ Another word and I string you up. ❞ A gesture to an overhang afar, Eddie was blaringly unable to preform such a task, as they were compelled to aid one another, absent of infighting. Let us see how long THAT lasts as Eddie’s irritability blossoms.
5MINUTETORTURE ✠ / / WAYLON
closed | @carvesbrides
“… And after standing in front of the rays, he discovered that the chocolate bar in his pocket - (hand me that) - had melted and left him unharmed."
Tuesdays are for processing any new patients. Wednesdays are for vetting them up for treatment. On Thursdays, Waylon is loaded with the responsibility of proverbially scrambling their brains in preparation for any course of treatment. On Thursdays, Waylon comes in two hours early to wake up his machines and to give them any necessary loving before guiding security and nurse through the process of connecting a patient.
"A chocolate bar. You know, if it was a fork, we’d probably have death rays at this point.”
A screwdriver bounces off his chest.
“I said, hand me that. Not throw it at me."
Waylon takes pleasure in being an obnoxious as he possibly can. Here lies an example now; security is the exact opposite of being regaled by the history of microwaves.
What kind of complaint would that be?
It was awful! He brought in a broken microwave from the break room and forced me to listen to the history of microwave rays while repairing the machine!
Yeah, right.
Waylon Park, in a word, is indispensable. He’s the Atlas of this world; holding man and machine up by his shoulders. Without him, it will all come crashing down in bloody chaos. This gives him the right to step on toes and flounce the rules. They need him.
Besides, is anyone going to hate the guy that fixed a microwave for free?
“No fucking way.”
Waylon is a dog zeroed in on a treat, his head snaps up to the opened door - “No fucking way.” The gaze that beholds todays incoming patient grants him something less than the status of human. It’s entertainment, it’s scandalous, its - “I’ve read about him, holy shit!” It’s a grisly crime where compassion for the victims are absent in killer and observer. The butchering of men and women has morphed into sensationalist pornography and Waylon continues to mock their memory as he grabs the intercom.
“You! Mr. Gluskin! Big fan of your work.”
✠ / / Veins protruded from porcelain skin, scalene muscles shuttering as tension caused immense flexion, crown rocking as Eddie gnarled it about. Confined carpus joints groaned against the metallic restraints, muscles bulging as his taut skin convulsed at the presence of another’s physical touch. Cardiac muscle fulminated within a thorax composed of Eddie’s raw prowess- unsurpassed by another man within the room, anxiety churned within bubbling stomach acids, gnawing at the pair of guards escorting the immense bulk of pillared muscle. Skin swarming with an infestation of nerves, neuronal cells conjoined with molecules of matter fidgeted the man absent of will. Decrepit foundations did this Asylum stand upon, machines intertwining his fate so bleak. The door croaked, it’s debilitating cellulose make-up splintering each second.
❝ You! Mr. Gluskin! Big fan of your work. ❞
Unwise to draw attention to one’s self.
Jolted electric surprise alarmed every sense within Eddie’s retracting frame- the exuberant man halted, coercing the guards to, involuntarily, stagger at his sides. Balking a smidge, the Canadian murderer’s ogles perforated at the wellspring of the commotion-- and verbal note. Frigid, oceanic iced orbs congealed the man they settled, disarray inky tresses tickling his forehead. Cautious consideration, ground molars reducing marrow to dust. A jounce of his limbs constrained Eddie, forcing barren feet to continue their venture of slapping, bare skin. All that adorned the fresh inmate happened to be non-constricting, elastic sweatpants; absent of a drawstring and ashen in pigment. Silence bestowed the air about them, Eddie silent-- eerie, devouring the questionable scenery, and the threshold of the door. Durable, yet pliant, industrial grade plastic etched in the walls-- an expansive screen ahead, and a chair. Something was wrong. Churning within his stomach, the substantial mass of man did, indeed, balk; constrained skin and billowing muscle called to action.
A surge of force, forelimb pitching the guards alike ragdolls- Eddie’s fear was an obvious one, evident as the man clamped his exposed dentition behind curled lips.
❝ Let me go-- you fucks! Release me, release me! ❞ It was as if Eddie’s discomfort imploded, the physical touches overbearing, forcing his skin to swelter upon sloughing muscle. The two men were obviously struggling, failing dismally to contain him. It was in that discomfort did Eddie resort to rage, bowling one man into the facing of the door, expelling any air and entrapping him.
Mr. Gluskin would not go down easily.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Whoever finds my corpse- trust no one and tell everyone. I am not crazy. I know, I know, only crazy people say that. But I am as sane as this world allows, with a camera full of evidence.
Don’t call it a gospel. Call it a mockery of reason, –Let the world know it is Murkoff’s fault. Bury these bastards with my mutilated dead body.
independent miles upshur from outlast adopted by makenzie
i’d..... .. ... . kill to see eddie’s little sister as an oc, i won’t lie
reblog this if you want anonymous opinions of you
Reblog if you're bored and want random anons.