transfemwaylon-blog

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// hi outlast rp community im really thirsting for some weddie so if you rp eddie like this or give me a follow or something

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Reblog this post if you are an Outlast ask/roleplay blog.

Feel free to send this also to roleplay blogs of Outlast that you may know/have seen.

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Im starting a new dance craze it’s called the curl up in a ball and not move

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Jenna Talackova

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Absolutely stunning

International Transgender Day of Visibility

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Canadian beauty queen, Jenna Talackova

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//  i found a better faceclaim for waylon!! ee

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chapter 2 of if you could feel my pulse is up!

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//would it be better if i played val..?

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// i want to cry again...

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askthebride

He lowered the pan at her reassurance, but didn’t put it down completely. People were unpredictable, and he had learned that all too well while spending time in the asylum.

“Who are you?” He asked, picking up part of his dress so he could step closer to her again without tripping, “You’ve got to get out of here, before my groom comes back.” It was more of a warning than a threat.

She had such a Familar air about her, he couldn’t look away from her, and squinted a little bit after another long moment of looking her up and down. His body language became more disarmed, and he was standing up straight with the pan lax in his hand now.

“It’s not safe for you here.”

“I’m Waylon. And it’s not exactly my choice to be here.” She replied. “And you are..?” She also felt the familiarity, like they were somehow connected. But that couldn’t be true. He reminded her of herself, back when she didn’t know who she was. 

She shook that thought away. The asylum was probably just getting to her head. But he was real, and so was she, and that was what mattered.

“Besides, I’ve survived here long enough. I’m going to make it out of here.” She wanted to comment on his choice of dress, but figured it would be inappropriate to do so. 

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askthebride

He waited, watching her from his crouched position from the counter as she poked around in the room by the doorway, looking around like a lost animal. He supposed he had also looked like that, when Eddie found him…

After a few moments of confirming the form wasnt holding any obvious weapons, and was seeming just as timid and scared as he was, Waylon stood up and slowly grabbed a pan from the kitchen as a defense. He shuffled out from the counter, almost stepping on his own dress, and stepped forward, bringing himself and also her into light. His eyes grew a little wide—she looked more or less slightly Familar. He hesitated.

“H-Hello?” His voice was hoarse. He wasn’t sure the last time he legitimately spoke at full volume, most of his verbal interactions with Eddie were hushed and short. He held the frying pan out in front of himself, as a warning, and stared her down.

She almost jumped back when she saw the man. He had some form of weapon while she had nothing. 

“He--” Her voice cracked. Too deep. “Hello.” That was better. She couldn’t remember the last time she spoke in her more feminine, better voice. At least she could still get to it. She didn’t feel too threatened by the man, luckily. There was something familiar about him.

“You can put down the pan. Or don’t. Wh-whatever suits you.” She looked him up and down. He looked like a disaster. She didn’t make any comments, she knew she probably looked just as terrible.

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Waylon thought she was going as crazy as the rest of the variants in the asylum. Maybe she was right. She had been wandering for God knows how long. She was warned about who or what resided in the basement by whispers from the variants. She didn’t listen, she went down.

Almost as soon as she descended into the basement of the asylum, she knocked something over. She bit her lip to keep from making any more noise. Shit. She continued walking, praying no one would see or hear her. Every step she took sounded like thunder to her.

It was oddly quiet. Way too quiet. She couldn’t let her guard down. She made her way to the doorway, she felt like she had to. Something was pulling her deeper into the basement. She could have turned back.

She didn’t. She ran a hand through her long, messy hair. She scanned the room, it looked like some sort of nightmare version of a home. She shuddered. As she walked further into the room, she knew she was making a mistake. But still, she wanted to know why she felt she had to go in there. 

She felt like she was being watched. It was a normal feeling for her, but it was amplified then.

[ @transfemwaylon ] Hide & Seek

It was early in the morning, the riots were starting to wind down and the usual quiet bliss of sunrise was washing over the asylum with a wave of calm, the basement being swept up in patterns of light and shadow from the early sun. It was a needed break from the nightmares the night before had brought.

Eddie was away. He had woken up from a spurt and fit of sleep and stalked off, mumbling about a proper family, and left his bride momentarily unattended. Waylon had protested at first, feeling unable to defend himself, but the fear drain as the quiet of the basement engulfed him. He knew he should take the opportunity to run but…the will to run was muted. Perhaps by the fear of death elsewhere? He pretended that was it.

So there he stood, swallowed by his tattered dress, in the kitchen of Eddies territory. He was warming up a busted can of beans salvaged from the night before, and found himself swept up in his thoughts. That is, until a clatter snatched his attention away from his thoughts. He quickly turned the oven off and shot behind a counter, fearing it was a variant or perhaps Blaire come to shove his face into the concrete and mock him for becoming the grooms little housewife.

He stayed still in the darkness as a few more sounds followed, and a form came into view in the doorway at the other end of the kitchen. He went still as stone, watching from peeking over the counter with wide eyes. It didn’t look like a varaiant, too small of a frame, too…feminine. A rush of curiosity and unsourced jealousy rushed through him and he peeked over the counter a little more, eyes squinting to get a better look.

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//starter call! like this for a starter with waylon <3 outlast muses get priority right now

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“I stopped wishing I was dead Learned to love myself before anyone else, Become more than just a burden I know I’m more than worthy of your time.”

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Suspicious Sentence Starters

Send me one of the following sentences regarding suspicion, trust, and paranoia.

“I’m not sure you have the best intentions.” “When have I ever steered you wrong?” “What makes you think I can trust you?” “I don’t trust you. Not yet.” “It’s hard for me to believe anything you say.” “It hurts that you still can’t trust me after all this time.” “I made a mistake, okay? Are you going to distrust me forever?” “It takes me a long time to open up to people, I’m sorry.” “There’s someone outside watching the house.” “I have a weird feeling about him/her/them.” “Why do you always think people are up to something?” “I won’t give you my trust. You have to earn it.” “You can’t live your life being suspicious of everybody around you.” “I know we just met, but you have to trust me.” “What on earth are you up to?” “So, what were you whispering about?” “You’ve been keeping a secret from me.” “I’m not crazy, we’re being watched!” “Why do I get the feeling you’re not telling me the truth?” “I’d rather be safe than sorry when it comes to people I don’t know yet.” “I trusted you once and I’m never doing it again.” “You see that person? I think they’re following us.” “I just get this feeling that someone has been watching me.” “Who are you and why have you been following me?” “I used to be a very trusting person.” “Where were you?” “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you.” “You won’t call me ‘paranoid’ when you realize I’ve been right all along.” “You were right, okay? I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.” “Give me one good reason to trust you.” “After last time, I’m not sure I should listen to you.” “Nope. Nuh-uh. I’m not trusting another one of your bad plans.” “How can we trust this person?” “How do I know you won’t just stab me in the back?” “I’m sorry, I just can’t bring myself to trust you again.” “You were right. I was a fool to trust them.” “I’m not suspicious. I’m just cautious.” “I told you that they were bad news.” “No, facebook stalking isn’t ‘creepy’, it’s called ‘being careful’.” “I get a bad feeling about them.”

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i wish i could get more attention to my blog but... idk how. i cant do fancy stuff i cant write good im dumb and idk i suck