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valeddie aesthetic for @darlingroom <33

#ʸᵒᵘ’ʳᵉ ᵃ ʷʳᵉᶜᵏ ᵇᵘᵗ ᶤ’ᵐ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ᵍᵒᶤᶰᵍ ᵗᵒ ʷᵃᶰᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ✟ (valeddie \ darlingroom.)#ᵍᵒᵈ ᵈᵒᵉˢᶰ'ᵗ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᶤᵏᵉ ᶤ ᵈᵒᵎ ✟ (muse.)#ᶜᵃˡᵃᵐᶤᵗʸ'ˢ ᶜʰᶤˡᵈ ✟ (eddie gluskin.)#ʰᵉʳᵉᵗᶤᶜ ✟ (aes.)#darlingroom

he walks with a purpose , a trail of blood ( half his and half not ) falling behind from hands and feet. curiosity gets the best of him this time , as the brute finds himself moving in the direction of distressed screams. they beg for help , and he seeks to find the source of their pain. a hanging sheet blocks his way , stained with crimson. “ red on red. ” the halls of this area must hold untold nightmares. a hand lifts to rip it back , the stench of the dead growing stronger with each large step he took.

@darlingroom

#darlingroom #hi i hope this is ok #lemme know if you want something different !#* . INTERACTIONS.

@darlingroom ❤‘d this

after all the careful precautions and planning put behind the walrider project, it figures that one boy with an onion router could singlehandedly collapse the empire of rome in one day. of course, this meant that it was up to blaire’s very capable hands to disarm the severity of this mess.

otherwise, murkoff mitigation would call in the strongarms to remove any incriminating evidence left behind in this carnage including the project manager himself — and boy was there CARNAGE! blaire couldn’t go a single step without stepping in someone’s entrails (oops) or catching a whiff of freshly ground up asylum patient soup. yummy.

and by keeping the situation under control, he meant of course SILENCING the various homicidal maniacs run amok. tampering with key evidence. destroying any sort of communication devices located on the premises. that was why he was stuck trudging through the basement. there still remained a few electrical appliances there, a likely source where any rats still attempting to expose murkoff industries might be hiding out, seeking another way to communicate to the outside world; the s a n e.

but the trip so far had been very regrettable. a sicko of some deranged mentality had left behind little ‘gifts’ for those who made the mistake of venturing into his territory. a few names came to mind, possibilities of which variant it could possibly be. nothing he couldn’t handle, he thinks.

jeremy takes a breather, inspecting the latest modern art piece before him. some sort of altar. aw. probably some delusional fucker missing his bride back home. no one in this building was missed by anyone outside. he’s doing a favor for the perpetrator when he knocks over the bridal figure and smashes his heel against the mannequin’s rib cage once, twice, three times...

but no amount of bone snapping can drown out the sound of humming in a nearby corridor. he freezes. a plan of action. an escape route. blaire chuckles as he slowly removes his foot from the shattered ivory doll and leans against the altar, spinning the baton in his hand playfully. had he expected to be face to face with such a large framed man, he may have reconsidered coming down here without security.

oh wait — what security? they were all DEAD.