#suffocationpit

          ♚ ➢ If there was one thing Maddelyn enjoyed most, it was baking. Most women of her stature were expected to stay away from the work aspect of a kitchen. Only to briefly flutter in and make sure all was in taste before bustling out again. But she wanted more. Wanted to learn the craft for herself. Especially when it came to dessert. It took a steady hand and keen eye to lay down pastry on an open faced pie. And the heiress believed she had the ability for that and more. Bring those skills with her when she married and give her future husband a pleasant surprise. Today was the day she was finally utilizing her talents. A picnic to relieve the stresses plaguing Evan’s mind. The work, his father’s declining health. She wanted to give him a moment without trouble. Without worry. Freshly married and eager to share, Maddy had familiarized herself with the Macmillan kitchen. Asking house servants to bring back specific ingredients so she can create the sweets that are her specialty for her husband. Apple Charlotte, Trifles, Cherry Bars, and her favorite- Decorated Sponges. Using cream to ice the top of the cake and then smaller designs like flowers to cover that. She also made small sandwiches with cucumber and cream cheese to cut the overwhelming sweetness that made a majority of their meal. Each item is packed away with care; as well as gentle packaging, into a small basket containing a checkered blanket. She is proud of her hard work. 

『❛  ... Well, I’m fucked.   ❜』

Carter shivers, muscles tensing involuntarily underneathpockmarked skin. He’s apprehensive as he watches his fellow killer draw closer;just what was Evan’s point? What washe implying– Where did he come offso boldly?

Where he was once numb to it before, the Doctor felt thesudden need to step back once the other reached an arm’s length of distance;because it was too close, it was too uncomfortable.That cleaver certainly did nothing to reassure him that Evan wasn’t about tocarve out his guts like a seasoned butcher– and oh, but was he seasoned with that diabolical weapon.

“COME NOW, DON’T DO SOMETHING YOU’LL ONLY REGRETLATER,” Carter wheezes, taking his gaze off of the blade’s jagged edgesjust long enough to flicker questioning eyes at the one wielding it. Up untilnow, he’d never been in confrontation with the Trapper– in fact, they’d neverreally strayed past the boundary of briefacquaintances up until this moment in time. It was… Peculiar.

!! Positivity!

———  BASICS !

NAME .    Elini Linxfoot, Elini, MisElinius PRONOUNS .   She, Her, that cunt

ZODIAC  SIGN .      no Heresy allowed

TAKEN  OR  SINGLE .       my boyfriend is tomb king and he won’t stop assaulting with cute birds and parrots that never stop screaming

———  THREE  FACTS   ! 

Yesterday was the only day my female cat, Timbit, had willing run towards me and let me cuddle her because she was hungry

I have 6 (sort of 7) OC’s that I’m very passionate about but I’ll probably never make any of them a blog because I keep reminding myself that I don’t do enough shit with this boi so why start something new

If you haven’t played Witcher 3, go fucking play Witcher 3. I don’t care if you’ve never played the other games (I didn’t when I played it), it’s a 10/10 game you better fucking experience at some point in your life so you understand what a perfect game feels like.

———  EXPERIENCE !

PLATFORMS  USED . tumblr, forums(long ago), Roll 20 (because if that website isn’t a place to rp IDK what else its for)

———  MUSE  PREFERENCE !

FEMALE  OR  MALE ?      I mean I’m planning to just stick with wroth for tumblr but if you can include DnD-like RPGs then I mostly play female characters, but honestly it doesn’t matter

LEAST  FAVORITE  FACE(S)  ?    Why do I have this one it looks so awkward.

MULTI  OR  SINGLE  ?      I guess single for now, because I’m to lazy to write for more than wroth right now

FLUFF  /  ANGST  /  SMUT  ?    MURDER & GORE

PLOT  /  MEMES  ?   Memes mainly because nobody really plots with me, or we try to and then nobody actually writes anything.

Tommy’s eyes flicker to the survivor he’d just lifted from the hook, stepping backward into the nearby room with a mouthed ‘thank you’ on her strained expression. Blood seeps, dark and ugly around her fingers where the hook had torn into her shoulder--it will leave tracks, they both know. He’s struck with the phantom sensation, and his hand ghosts by his own shoulder, remembers the wound. Shaking the feeling loose, Tommy takes inventory of the situation; the killer--the Trapper, as he’s aptly nicknamed, is already on his way back, crossing out of the shadows a little ways away. Of course, Lery’s is a bit of a labyrinth, and maybe it will work to their advantage.

He’s new to this— the game. The first time he’d died—he’d hoped, begged for it to be final; here it never was. The thing in the sky, all spidery appendage, a silent judge— saw to it that he was spat right back out at that same campfire. It doesn’t care about them; it spins nightmares around and around them like thread. It's bitter to swallow; everything he's been through culminating to this. Die, run, die, reset. Reset. The rigmarole of it wears on the other survivors, torn edges on their expressions, tired lines under their eyes. Yet still, there’s quiet determination, hope that won’t falter even as it becomes chipped down to fragments. Hope is what all this was about, wasn’t it? 

A trap snaps, somewhere in the distance, a short, piercing scream cutting through the rev of hospital machinery and he sets his teeth, knows in an instant he’s going to have to run interference. Tommy steps out into the open, slow and careful, gets caught on the jagged teeth on the mask. It’s not him, he has to remind himself, every time. He sparks like a live wire, burning with the cold rage at being put through the wringer, again, in a fucking cycle, fingers curling at his sides. Are you sure about this? His eyes are sharp and bright where they focus on the hulking form, turned away after the sound of the beartrap triggering.

Alright, think fast. He blinks the flashlight in his hands once, twice at the figure, before the old thing gives a death rattle and fizzles. Fine, okay. He lets it drop to the floor, clattering against cracked tile and echoing down the corridor. That’ll get his attention.

EVAN AS REGINA IS GIVING ME LIFE I AM SCREAMING