[walkcrs-a-blog]

FASHION / APPEARANCE STATS. 

BODY

Long legs. Short legs. Average legs. Slender thighs. Toned thighs. Thick thighs. Muscular thighs. Skinny arms. Toned arms. Soft arms. Muscular arms. Toned Stomach. Flat stomach. Flabby stomach. Soft stomach.  Six-pack. Beer belly. Lean frame. Beefy/muscular frame. Voluptuous frame. Petite frame ( 5 ft 4 or shorter ). Lanky frame. Short nails. Long nails.Manicured nails. Dirty nails. Flat ass. Toned ass. Bubble butt. Thick ass. Thigh brows. Small waist. Thick waist. Narrow hips. Average hips. Wide hips. Big feet. Average feet. Small feet. Soft feet. Slender feet. Calloused hands. Soft hands. Big hands. Average hands. Small hands. Long fingers. Short fingers. Average fingers. Broad shoulder. Narrow shoulder. Underweight. Average weight. Overweight.

HEIGHT

Shorter than 140 cm. 141 cm-150 cm. 151 cm to 160 cm. 161 cm to 170 cm. 171 cm to 180cm. 181 cm to 190 cm. 191 cm to 2m. Taller than 2 m.

SKIN

Pale. Rosy. Olive. Dark. Tanned. Blotchy. Smooth. Acne. Dry. Greasy. Soft.

EYES

Small. Large. Average. Grey. Brown. Blue. Green. Gold. Hazel. White. Doe-eyed. Almond.Close-set. Wide-set. Squinty. Monolid. Heavy eyelids. Upturned. Downturned.

HAIR

Thin. Thick. Fine. Normal. Greasy. Dry. Soft. Shiny. Curly. Frizzy. Wild. Unruly. Straight. Smooth. Wavy. Floppy. Cropped. Pixie-cut. Shoulder length. Back length. Waist length. Buzz cut. Undercut. Bald. Jaw length. Mohawk. White. Platinum blonde. Golden blonde. Dirty blonde. Blondette. Ombre. Light brown. Mouse brown. Chestnut brown. Chocolate brown. Dark brown. Jet black. Ginger. Auburn. Dyed red. Dyed any “unnatural color”. Thin eyebrows. Average eyebrows. Thick eyebrows. No eyebrows. 

TATTOOS / PIERCINGS

Full sleeve. Thigh tattoo. Neck tattoo. Chest tattoo. One tattoo. A few here and there (two tattoos). Multiple. No tattoos. Monroe piercing. Nose piercing. Septum. Nipple piercing(s). Genital piercing(s). Industrial piercings. Earlobe piercing(s). Prince Albert piercing. Eyebrow piercing(s). Tongue piercing(s). Lip piercing(s). Tragus piercing. Angelbites. Labret. Stretches out ears. Navel piercing. Inverse navel piercing. Cheek piercing(s). Smiley. Nape piercing(s). No piercing. Branded (family brand/tattoo)

COSMETICS

Eyeliner. Light eyeliner. Heavy eyeliner. Cat eyes. Mascara. Fake eyelashes. Matte lipstick. Regular lipstick. Lipgloss. Red lips. Pink lips. Dark lips. Bronzer. Highlighter. Eyeshadow. Neutral eyeshadow. Smoky eyes. Colorful eyeshadow. Blush. Lipliner. Light contouring. Heavy contouring. Powder. Matte foundation. Shiny foundation. Concealer. Wears make up regularly. Wears it from time to time. Never wears make up.

SCENT

Floral. Fruity. Perfumes. Aftershave. Cocoa. Moisturizer. Shampoo. Cigarettes. Leather. Sweat. Food. Incense. Marijuana. Cologne. Whiskey. Wine. Fried food. Blood. Clean scents.

CLOTHES

Jeans. Tight pants. Overknee socks. Thigh-highs. Tights. Leggings. Yoga pants. Pencil skirt. Tight skirt. Loose skirt. Tight / formfitting dress. Cardigans. Blouse. Button up shirt. Band-T-shirt. Sports t-shirt. Sweatpants. Tank top. Fur. Faux fur. Leather. Designer. High street. Online stores. Thrift. Lingerie. Long skirt. Miniskirt. Maxi dress. Sundress. Tie. Tuxedo. Cocktail dress. Highslit dress / skit. T-shirt. Loose clothing. Trench coat. Tight clothing. Jean shorts.Sweater. Sweater vest. Khaki pants. Suit. hoodie. Harlem pants. Basketball shorts. Boxers. Briefs. Thong. Hotpants. Hipster panties. Garter. Bra. Sports bra. Crop top. Corset. Ballerina skirt. Leotard. Polka dot. Stripes. Glitter. Silk. Lace. Leather. Velvet. Chemise. Patterns. Florals. Neon colors. Pastels. Black. Dark colors. Naked.

SHOES

Sneakers. Slip-ons. Flats. Slippers. Sandals. High heels. Kitten heels. Ankle boots. Combat boots. Knee-high. Platforms. Stripper heels. Barefeet. Loafers. Oxfords. Gladiator shoes.

tagged by: i feel like someone tagged me in this but i don’t remember.  tagging: @iimpaled @birthchrist and idk whoever else wants to (:

[walkcrs-a-blog]

neutralfate:

their eyes trained, never leaving this atrocious sight. a sight to behold! behemoth slinging man to the ground, stomping his cranium, smearing brain matter ‘cross sole of shoe, ‘pon asylum floors. the sounds were something unbearable, what no man ( let alone child ) should ever have to hear. 

night stick, pick - pocketed from one of many corpses scattered among these grounds, held close to chest ; white knuckled grip guided defensive stance. then he turned his eyes ‘pon them, & they were tempted to run ; a queue to make a break for it. they didn’t even know it, but tears sprung leak & dribbled down blood - flecked cheeks ; knees buckled & grip began to tremble. they’d remain in their spot for now, but the moment he’d make a move in their direction, they would be gone.

seeing things that aren’t there . it has been experienced by him before , something that stresses the mind and leaves him puzzled . the engine creates images that flow through in front of the eyes , and no matter how much he swats the air , they refuse to leave . this must be real . quiet they remain , and so does he , the only noise coming from the man is heavy breaths that leave the ragged leftovers of mutilated lips . WOULD HE KILL ? that is the question that stands unanswered . he’s ripped men apart from their skull to their feet in seconds , but there’s something that holds walker back from lunging forward . instead , there’s uncertainty , a wave of conflict stalling movements . “ shouldn’t be here … ” it’s a clear warning given from the variant . someone so small and young in a place like this ? death would certainly be a mercy . 

[walkcrs-a-blog]

darlingroom:

THE G-G-G-ROOM resides behinds walls of ichor && mucus: the membrane of his beastly LUST hung like a B-B-B-RIDE’S veil ‘round where he stands disgruntled over a dingy surgical table. ❛  No…I’m sorry, Darling. You’ve disappointed me, you aren’t the one… ❜ Deep inhale, his pores clogged with the particles of dead flesh && blood, drifting through the stale air like sparks of F-F-F-IRE to light his path towards an UNHOLY MATRIMONY. Large, calloused, hands grip forcefully at the back of his LOVELY’S head: all pale flesh stretched against a bone canvas, as he presses it furiously against the sanguined metal of a spinning razor saw. ❛ Hush, hush, keep quiet now, my sweet girl. ❜ Meaty pulp && fatty lamella punctures the grime-covered brick walls, incarnadining the M-M-M-ONSTER’S impromptu nuptial wear with the ashes of an ardent massacre. Mr.Gluskin is so ENGROSSED in his lamentations,another day, another blister, hot as coal, seared through the tattered dermis of his heart, he hardly notices the grotesquely brooding figure lurking close by.  

a voice calls . it speaks softly through the dreaded halls along with the buzz of a saw . sweet words painted upon the walls are ignored in favor of continuing forward . a half-open door leads to horrors , and walker is sick of being quiet . the wood is forced forward with a tight fist , nearly being knocked off the weak hinges , announcing himself in the only way possible for a man his size . the discover is grisly . there’s a man in a dark suit , splatters of blood decorating the front . he’s a large man , yes , but nothing compared to the other variant . the object of his interest lays below , organs and bones spilling out on all sides . he liked to think that he’d seen worse , but truthfully , walker can’t be sure . tempted as it is to plow forward and wrap a hand around the neck , the brute lumbers forward , taking time to look over the scene , before eyes eventually fall onto the groom , as if he were waiting for a response to his untimely presence .

[walkcrs-a-blog]

he returns to his favorite spot. it’s a grisly scene indeed. bodies upon bodies are ripped apart , organs trailing out from the insides. he keeps them arranged neatly along the walls.  the heads , of course ,  are off from their bodies , stacked side by side on a book shelf. walker drops the latest skull between his fist onto an empty spot , taking a moment to admire the collection. before long , a new scent fills the air , unlike the rot of corpses. it's different than death. they must be alive. he turns then , nostrils flaring , and moves in search of the source. 

@wlthers

[walkcrs-a-blog]

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​

[walkcrs-a-blog]

legs trudge through the asylum’s grassy courtyard , rain pouring down from the dark skies and flying off from his shoulders. thunder cracks above , and eyes turn to look afar at a distant figure. he approaches slowly with ill intent , nothing but pain on the mind. if they caught onto him quick , there’s a chance for escape. he can’t have that happening.

@comiiics

[walkcrs-a-blog]

the asylum breakout did not last long. chains clink against each other , locked tight around arms and legs. no where to run , no way to fight. trapped once again , with a shock collar on his neck. it’s fit for a monster. head sinks down , teeth grinding together. he’s got nothing he wants to say. 

@bruisedpast

[walkcrs-a-blog]

reporth:

           Come out he did not, scared like a mouse in the presence of a bear of a man. Hand was locked tightly over lips, MASKING noises that threathened to leave lips in an attempt to become silent. Under a desk MANY could not consider themselves safe, but when it was the only place to hide then take the chance he would.

           But one can not stay under a desk forever, lest they be FOUND. In a bout of bravery Blake slowly crawled out from the desk, no obvious sounds marking the position of the behemoth; peeking over the edge of the furniture he did, camcorder raised, battery blinking at HALF power in corner of screen.

           Loud whimper fell from lips, obvious to ones with keen ears. Sharpened claws and bloody frame was in view, too close, too near; intruding and TOWERING.

           “ Fuck—! ”

           God have mercy on his poor soul.

people are at their weakest when they feel scared. Walker knows how to make fear. he’s encountered enough frightened men to recognize the common actions taken when their lives are threatened. they sob. they whimper. they thrash like a wild dog. they scream obscenities and cower behind doors. 

“ still close , still close. ” voice is low, raspy and slurred. it’s almost hard to make sense of, as his lips were chewed off from his face months before.

he hears it then. it’s not too loud and not too soft. a noise off to his right. vision poor, the beast of a man has learned to make use of his hearing. massive builds stalks forward, floorboards creaking under his weight, and a string of saliva falling from chin. “ I want to help you . ”

[walkcrs-a-blog]

regretfulsoldier:

Echo had followed the sounds of shooting, intent on stopping his fellow soldiers before they hurt any of the remaining patients; after discovering what Murkoff had been putting them through, it didn’t sit well to let “Variants” come to any more harm.

A plan which quickly went out the window once he saw who the soldiers had been (unsuccessfully) fighting… and the sheer size of the man. Swearing internally, Echo spun around and went hurtling back the way he’d come; no way did he want to be part of this fight.

towering above them all, he’s practically unstoppable. the weapons in their hands make them more deadly, and he concludes by the uniform that they are not among patient, guard, or doctor. perhaps they are something from the outside.  it feels like decades since he’s seen the world beyond Mount Massive. remembering life before is a challenge, as things only come through in bits and pieces. clearly the engine has scrambled and spit out his mind beyond recovery.

he’s quick, but a bullet manages to hit his upper arm, lodging itself painfully in bloated flesh. a chunk of skin flies off on impact, blood oozing from the wound.  “ you fuckers. ” the growl leaves from a ragged mouth, animal-like as jaw clenches. chains rattle as he gives chase, sucking in air and breathing heavy. he’s not the fastest man alive, but more than determined to catch what he wants.

[walkcrs-a-blog]

fears tag meme.

BOLD ANY FEARS WHICH APPLY TO YOUR MUSE. ITALICIZE WHAT MAKES THEM UNCOMFORTABLE. Repost, don’t Reblog. tagged by: @acrackedlens thank u (: 

the dark. fire. open water. deep water. being alone. crowded spaces. confined spaces. change. failure. war. loss of control. powerlessness. prison. blood. drowning. suffocation. public speaking. natural animals. the supernatural.heights. death. dying. intimacy. rejection. abandonment. loss. the unknown.the future. not being good enough. scary stories. speaking to new people. poverty. loud noises. being touched. sex.

tagging: @theprixrity @adventson @dollcursed @serialclown @darlingroom and anyone who wants to ! 

[obliviongate]

you … have become the host !

[walkcrs-a-blog]

theprixrity:

          Bare feet moved over filthy tiles, treading threw the gore and bile that coated them. Blue eyes paid no mine to the crimson spray, looking past it all to only see the hallways ahead. A sight easily ignored because he did not do it, eyes only focused only blood of ones own spilling. 

Yet feet came to a stop at the cackle of chains that mingled with pounding footsteps, the mute already knew this call as he’d heard it many times before and knew for more it did not end well. Head turned, listening as he was demanded to show himself. There was a moment of hesitation, debating on the options Daryl had. Chris was not a beast to toy with, yet— How smart was it to run out into his jaws? It was dangerous regardless of what he chose, but Daryl began to make his move. Stepping out into the view of the other, the mute done as told yet also readied himself to be attacked. 

senses are heightened, ears managing to pick up noise that would have been dismissed by a regular person. he takes his time to gaze at prey as if they are nothing more than a simple target at practice. one shot. one kill. that’s what they taught him. he trained for months, witnessed men he called friends die horrifically, and it is all for this moment. Chris repeats that to himself. he’s doing what they trained him to do. 

life is held between a massive hand, and he’s more than willing to crush it in seconds. when the patient shows himself, the beast does not lunge forward. the hall is too narrow. too many doors and turns are on both sides. it’s easy for one to slip on by and vanish without a trace. Walker can’t let them get away just like that. he snatches up a metal chair that lay broken to his side, and hurls it at the man. it’s supposed to stun him, but Chris doesn’t waste time to see if it works. instead, he rushes for him, claws ready to tear into flesh. 

[walkcrs-a-blog]

in a harmful event, people go into flight or fight response. when encountering a man like Walker, they tend to lean towards flight. who could blame them? that’s how he finds himself in a seemingly empty room. only minutes before, a patient had ran through its door to hide from the beast. he searches like an animal on the hunt. a locker creaks at it hinges as its door is shoved to an open. nothing’s inside besides a jacket and a pair of keys that sit abandoned at the very bottom. nostrils flare, and he inhales as if he can smell the scent of prey. blood of others stain his hands with red, and the only person to thank for that is Chris himself. if only this one had better luck to avoid the soldier’s attention. 

@murkoffjanitor

[radikatt-deactivated20200714]

rob wanted a chriiiis

[groomrot-deactivated20171219]

HEYOOO    !!     Would     you     mind     liking     //     reblogging     this     post     if     you’re     willing     to     rp     with     a     new     Eddie     Gluskin     blog     from     Outlast:Whistleblower     !!

[walkcrs-a-blog]

😩daddy's 💦cummies💦 in my tummy💩are so yummy😩. Every day I 😫dream😏 of his 💦cream. Without 💦daddy👨🏻, I feel so bratty😥. Without his 🍼juices, all I think😒 of are nooses💉. While daddy is 👌🏼finenessin', I be 👙undressin. Daddy ✋🏼slaps🍑 me, it makes me so 😍happy. My daddy be 🍭sugar, my 🍆daddy be 😜sweet🍰, all I can think🤔 of is his 😍big 💦thicc meat🍆When daddy😝 isn't in the 😒mood, I gotta fuck😏 some other 👱🏿dude. But 🚶🏿daddy is still my 🍆daddy & I'm his little 😫whore

[walkcrs-a-blog]

the vocational block is not a place that Chris wants to venture inside. there’s too many narrow halls and junk scattered about. for a man of his size, it’s difficult to navigate through, especially when trying to move quietly - or even quickly, depending on the circumstances.. he finds himself there anyway, lumbering along, chains rattling across his wrists and ankles. 

a scream alerts his senses, not too far off in front of where he stands. he freezes to a stop. it’s not long until a variant darts from a room in front, breathing heavily, frantic in their movements and failing to pay attention as they ram right into Chris’ large chest. the man is nude, horribly disfigured and shaking with fright as he crawls back on all fours, mumbling some name that Chris doesn’t manage to catch. he was running from something before, Chris knows. whoever ( or whatever ) it was, he doesn’t have the time to dwell on it. he’s got work to be done. a meaty hand wrenches the variant forward by his throat, lifting his bony legs off the dusty floor. 

the man begins to choke and gag, fingers digging into Chris’ own and attempting to loosen the grasp around his neck. it does no good, and the soldier’s other hand settles atop the variant’s head. walrider needs the host’s head, and this is the quickest way to prevent an outbreak. it’s a rough jerk with his arm, nails piercing into the scalp, and the skulls snaps off from the neck smoothly. 

. @groomgore