#Richard Trager X Miles Upshur | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

70% of Tumblr users say the Dashboard is their favorite place to spend time online.

#Richard Trager X Miles Upshur

c3lestialmonarch · 3 months

Text

Ship Analysis because I have nothing else to post except they're mostly with Waylon

Weddie (Waylon x Eddie) - While I don't care for it, it's fucked up in the right sense. I would read fics about it but I don't ship it.

JerWay (Jeremy x Waylon) - Same for Weddie, like there are certain fics I would read for them but I don't ship it.

Lisa x Waylon - They're married, so automatic 10/10. I like how people portray them since we don't get very much of Lisa.

Camerashipping (Miles x Waylon) - Another 10/10, I'm actually a huge fan of Camerashipping. Like, there's a huge difference in personalities between them that are balanced out by each other.

Wake(?) (Waylon x Blake) - I'm not entirely sure how to feel about this, and I'm not even sure this exists.

Polycamerous (Miles x Waylon x Blake) - I think it's silly yet have never heard about this outside the shipping wiki. If anyone has some fics about it please send them to me so I can figure out how I feel about it.

Second Coming/Messiah (Miles x Blake) - I think it would work post-2 since Lynn is dead, but I feel like Blake would be too hung up on her death to even think about moving on (kind of like Jessica). They could possibly even already know each other, unlike Camerashipping where Waylon and Miles haven't met.

WalMiles (Walrider x Miles) - I'm not sure. I've read some fics about it but I don't know where I stand on the WalMiles spectrum.

Blood and Business (Miles x Trager) - I came up with the name but it sounds more like a fic title. I'm all for fucked up ships and fics with them in it but like the other two I don't really ship it.

I'll make a part two if I missed anything.

#c3lestialmonarch #Miles x Me all the way #outlast #outlast game #outlast whistleblower #asks open #miles upshur #waylon park #camerashipping #weddie #jeremy blaire #eddie gluskin #richard trager #outlast ships #shitpost #fandom ships

12 notes · View notes

rohansregret · 2 years

Text

WHO I WRITE FOR (OUTLAST)

———

Outlast

miles upshur, chris walker, richard trager, the twins, jeremy blaire, various other variants (lmk specifically which one)

Outlast Whistleblower

eddie gluskin, frank manera, dennis, waylon park

Outlast 2

blake langermann, val

requests are closed + who i write for

18 notes · View notes

artistically-insightful · 4 years

Link

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Outlast (Video Games) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Eddie Gluskin/Waylon Park, Frank Manera/Waylon Park, Jeremy Blaire/Waylon Park, Richard Trager/Miles Upshur Characters: Waylon Park, Eddie Gluskin, Frank Manera, Dissociative Dennis (Outlast), Jeremy Blaire, Miles Upshur, Richard Trager, Chris Walker, The Twins (Outlast), The Pyromaniac (Outlast) Additional Tags: POV First Person, Alternate Universe-Asylum, Bisexuality, Bisexual Male Character, Sexual Confusion, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Codependency, Possessive Behavior, Eddie Gluskin Being Eddie Gluskin, Homophobic Language, Homophobia, Jealousy, Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gaslighting, Violent Sex, Misogyny, Rape/Non-con Elements, Forced Masturbation, Threats of Violence, Attachment Issues, Emotional Instability, Jealous Eddie Gluskin, Jealous Frank Manera, Love Triangles, Unrequited Love, Jeremy's a scummy asshole, Frank just wants to eat and be loved, Eddie is extremely confused and desperate for love and approval, Dennis is precious and needs to be protected, Marriage Proposal, Kink Discovery, Sexuality Crisis, Gender Dysphoria, MTF Waylon, gender discovery, Transitioning, transitioning genders, Trans Female Character, Escape, Rough Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Everyone wants poor Waylon Series: Part 1 of Freedom Summary:

Waylon is stuck in Mount Massive Asylum as a patient. Due to money shortages the patients are forced to have roommates. The rule is that there are two people in a room. Waylon's roommate turns out to be Eddie Gluskin of all people. Shenanigans ensue. This is the start of a series. (Asylum AU) Written in first-person POV. WARNINGS: Violent sex, Rape, transitioning genders(Waylon).

#this fic has a lot in it #it's part of a series #Eddie Gluskin X Waylon Park #Richard Trager X Miles Upshur #Chris Walker #Frank Manera #Waylon Park X Frank Manera #Gayness #Trans character #MTF #Gender transition #Bisexuality #bisexual #Rape #abuse #non-con #fanfiction #Outlast

17 notes · View notes

outlustings · 2 years

Note

Outlast 1 boys reacting to a pregnant reader? And maybe them as dads? your blog gives me life

(i am too lazy to do my uni essay. the next logical step is to write 5k words of horror video game characters being dads i guess.

includes miles, chris, the twins, rick, eddie, jeremy, frank and for some reason DENNIS!

includes graphic childbirth scenes - why????? idk???? just because????? and mentions of drug use because frank is frank.

also are they phantom pregnancies? is your greatest joy just a figment of your imagination, a continuation of your insanity bleeding into your reality? are you too, depressed, like the writer is? muahaha...

enjoy!)

MILES

"I'm - I'm gonna be a dad?" he gripped the steering wheel with such tightness that you thought he might break it. You nodded, smiling as tears prickled your eyes.

"Yup."

Miles let out a shaky sigh, then ran his fingers through his dark brown hair, smiling weakly before bursting into airy, light laughter.

"Babe, that's so -..." he swallowed, turning his head to you, nearly pouncing on you as he hurriedly leaned over to the passenger seat to embrace you, "That's awesome! When?"

"When what?" you giggled against his neck as he held you tight, rocking you clumsily. Maybe you should've told this after you got out of the car.

"When will - you -... holy shit! Like, give birth?"

He was stumbling over his words, his eyes wide and excited. Adorable, you thought, ruffling his hair as he buried his head into your chest.

"I don't know, maybe June," you shrugged, "We'll see."

Miles nodded, leaning back to take a good look at you, his face red and his hair messy, his eyes glistening.

"I'm gonna be a dad!" he blurted out, grinning so wide you thought his cheeks would split. A single tear rolled down to his sharp jawline.

The cold autumn air nipped at your nose as you sat on the park bench, your discarded mittens resting on the the bump of your belly as you held the small digital camera in your numb hands. The ground was covered in little piles of leaves underneath the stirring gray sky ablve Denver. You filmed the park, panning your camera to capture the old maple trees and the distant playground. Miles always liked these little clips you took, you thought. He stayed up for hours on end editing them into little movies that he would proudly present to the two, soon to be three, of you.

A small toddler girl ran from one edge of the frame to another, brown hair spilling in wisps from her beanie as she cackled, being chased by a hunched over Miles who was roaring theatrically.

"I got you!" he snatched your daughter to his chest, raising her up above his head and she squealed in delight as he spun her around in the air.

You laughed, ending the recording on a frame of Miles pressing a kiss to the child's cheek, holding her to his chest as she tried to squirm away.

"Mommy!" she yelled and you waved at her, shoving the camera into the pocket of your jacket.

"You wanna go to mommy?" Miles turned his head to you and grinned, "I'll race you."

He set your daughter to the ground and she started running, waving her limbs all about, stirring up flurries of red and gold leaves with her pink rubber boots.

Miles jogged behind her. You stretched your arms out and she bumped against your legs. You chuckled.

"Daddy's slow, isn't he?" you stroked her cheek as she turned her face to her father. Miles panted when he reached the bench.

"You won," he nodded to your toddler and swept strands of hair from his perspiring forehead, grinning at you, "Are you cold?"

"A little," you shrugged as your daughter climbed up on the bench, huffing with effort, clinging to your arm.

"Wanna grab a hot chocolate on the way home?" he gestured towards the other side of the nearby pond where the city's skyline collided with the heavy clouds, "I think it's gonna rain soon."

"Hmm," you hummed, stroking your belly with one hand while trying to keep your daughter from climbing over the back of the bench with your other hand, "My feet are tired, Miles."

"I'll rub them when we get home," he reached over to grab the girl from your grip and held her to his chest as she giggled, stirring in his arms.

"Fine," you smiled, "You better keep your promise."

Miles nodded, adjusting your daughter to his hip and reaching an arm to help you get off the bench.

"Pissing off a pregnant lady? Not on my bucket list."

"Miles!" you hissed, "Language!"

He grinned.

"I'm sorry, babe."

CHRIS

"You're kidding," his mouth was a thin line, his eyes fixed on yours, "Is this a prank?"

"No, not at all!" you shook your head with a laugh, "I'm pregnant. I swear. Took the test this morning," you flashed him a grin and grabbed the test from the edge of the sink, showing him, "See?"

Chris bent down to look at the test, still looking suspicious. Then his eyes widened and he smiled, letting out a laugh.

"Woah! Wait," he grabbed your wrist and his other hand shot up to his cheek as his mouth hung open, "Wait, I'm gonna be a father?"

You nodded, laughing.

"You need to sit down?" you patted his shoulder as he looked absolutely gobsmacked, leaning against the sink, his eyes fixed on the bathmat as he tried to process the news.

"Actually, yeah," he mumbled and sat on the toilet, burying his head into his hands for a second before looking up at you with the widest smile imaginable.

"You're pregnant," he huffed out a shaky laugh, taking your hand, "You're really pregnant."

You sat on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, kissing his left temple as you stroked his back soothingly.

"You're so amazing," he breathed out, "A baby? What the hell...?"

You giggled.

"I know, this is crazy," you muttered against the collar of his uniform shirt, "But I think we'll be fine."

"Yeah," Chris sighed, placing his hand on your cheek and stroked it with his thumb, "I think so too."

You rocked your son in your lap, stroking his platinum hair between pats on his back, a towel slung over your shoulder.

"He ready?" Chris muttered, outstretching his arms.

"I got a few good ones out of him," you sighed, lifting the gurgling and cooing baby by his shoulders and placing it in his arms, "But I don't know, we'll see if he goes to sleep."

Chris nodded and left you to fold the dry towel back into the linen closet of your small bungalow's bathroom. You rubbed your temples, tiredness stinging every muscle in your body as you dragged your feet to follow Chris to the bedroom.

His large form was bent over the crib, the back of his t-shirt lifting up slightly as he placed the boy into his bed, his head brushing against the hanging stars of the mobile. You walked up behind him and tugged on his shirt.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

"You're welcome," you yawned, "Is he going to sleep?"

"He's not putting up a fight," Chris straightened his back and looked down at you as you reached over his side to stroke the infant's cheek. His eyes were already close. You didn't know how Chris did it. He had a pacifying effect on your son whereas with you, he only seemed to be as rowdy as a three-month old can be.

You smiled tiredly. Your eyes skimmed over the little embroidered shooting stars of his blanky, the pastel yellow giraffe resting near his feet and the washed-out, dusky pink pig toy that he had wrapped his tiny hands around, squishing it against his chubby cheek.

"He loves your piggy," you leaned your head against Chris' shoulder.

He nodded.

"They're matching," he pointed one thick finger to his pink romper, smiling gently.

"Oh yeah," you laughed, pressing a kiss to your boyfriend's upper arm, "Unintentional on my part."

"My three little pigs," he squeezed your hand gently, "One," he patted the head of the stuffed pig, "two," he pinched his son's toe, "three," he kissed your temple, his lips soothing your headache as the two of you stood over the crib in the soft hue of the nighlight.

THE TWINS

"Congratulations."

The deadpan delivery made you a little nervous. You thought you could see slight smiles on both of their faces in the flickering light of the cell. You felt a little annoyed, you had expected a far greater reaction. Maybe you were hoping for too much. You adjusted yourself on the bunk.

"That's it?"

"We're happy," the taller man said, "But you seem to be avoiding something."

"Which one of us is it?" his brother completed the question, kicking a stray pebble. You stared at them. You couldn't believe it. Why did they have to overthink now, out of all the situations in the whole wide world?

You clicked your tongue.

"Does it matter?"

"Only if it matters to you," the shorter man reached up to scratch at his head, ruffling his dark, spiky hair. You watched his hand, wondering for a fleeting moment if the baby would have the same kind of hair. Rough and thick. But smooth in your hands.

"It really doesn't," you squared your jaw, "I don't care. As long as the both of you are here with me. Don't leave me."

Maybe they heard the crack in your voice. They both turned their gazes to you, their eyes soft as they watched you from the shadows. You slumped forward, resting your elbows on your thighs. Then you heard the soft sound of their feet hitting the floor and two masses plopping on the mattress on either side of you. A warm, large hand rested on your shoulder.

"You're ours, forever," you heard the taller man grunt in your ear, "We will protect you."

"Our lamb, our dearest," his brother whispered, placing his hand on the slight curve of your belly. You leaned into his touch, revelling in the squish of their bodies pressed against you, shoulder to shoulder. You closed your eyes, relief washing over you.

You pressed your sweaty forehead against his bicep, your throat raw from screaming as you felt a fantastic emptiness below your ribcage as the wails of your newborn filled your ears, its purplish skin glistening with mucus and blood as you wiggled your fingers at the hands that held the baby above your abdomen.

"Give it to me," you sobbed with intense relief as the balding, taller man, your other partner, placed the baby in your arms, where his brother settled his own hand underneath the child's head, bringing it closer to you, shushing the infant with a low, gentle voice.

Your vision was blurry.

"What is it?" you grunted.

"A boy," he muttered in your ear, placing the child on your heaving chest and you wrapped your arms around your son, as tears rolled down your cheeks and you panted, smiling at your baby, only choked sobs coming from you.

"A boy!" the other man called out over his shoulder to the crack of the door, wiping his bloody hands on your thighs. The congregation hooted and hollered behind the door and you distantly heard Father Martin singing praises to the Lord over the rushing of blood in your ears.

"Oh, bless!"

"It's like Christmas!"

"Everyone shut the fuck up!"

You laughed tiredly at the voices behind the door but your laugh turned into a screech as you felt a burning sensation in your loins. Something was wrong.

"What is it?" the taller twin furrowed his brows as you shoved your son to his brother's arms, gripping the sheets underneath you and spreading your legs again.

"I think there's another one coming, fuck!" you bellowed, propping your body up on your elbows. The taller man ducked between your legs and you felt his hands and you saw and felt white hot iron spill all over you as you screamed, his brother's fingers intertwined between yours and you growled as you heard another wail join the chorus of terrific noise rattling inside your head.

You felt your lungs swell and everything hurt but you saw, at the end of another umbilical chord, another baby. Twins. You should've known.

"A girl," her father muttered, grinning to you as she reached her tiny fists to pound at your chest and you stroked her back and the world behind the door ceased to exist as the brothers looked down on you with tender eyes, holding their fruit in your tired, sweaty arms as you rocked them senselessly and breathed deeply, smiling at everything in the room before you slumped back on the shorter man's chest and closed your eyes, feeling two pairs of arms wiping you down and heard low muttering.

"You did so well, you did so well."

Your head spun.

RICK

"No way," Rick held your shoulders at an arms length, his fingers digging into your flesh as he shook you gently, "No way you're pregnant."

It was almost frightening how wide his eyes were.

"Yes, I am," you gave him a slight smile, testing the waters. A silence fell between the two of you. Your heart beat like crazy. He was never this quiet. You could almost hear the gears turning in his head, underneath those luscious greying curls.

Then, a wide grin flashed on his face. He huffed through his nose, straightening his back and he pulled you into a tight hug.

"Pregnant!" he exclaimed, letting out a breathy chuckle as he leaned his head back and fixed his eyes on you, his hands sliding from your shoulders to your cheeks, "We're having a baby!"

"Yeah," you nodded your head, laughing.

Rick leaned down to kiss you on the tip of your nose, squishing your cheeks gently as you pressed your hands on his chest, rubbing circles on his skin through the soft fabric of his pink dress shirt.

"Oh, you sweet thing," Rick sighed, pressing his forehead against yours, "You're too good to me."

You poured a handful of cereal to a shallow plastic bowl and set it in front of your daughter who was fiddling with her bib, tracing the stitches with her tiny fingers. You tickled her tummy and cooed at her before straightening your back and looking at Rick, who was making pancakes on the stove, flour and pieces of eggshell all over the counters.

He had insisted on making you breakfast since it was your birthday. Usually he took you to a restaurant on your birthday but after the birth of your daughter he wanted to stay home as much as possible.

You eyed his apron. A honeymoon gift from a colleague, or so he had claimed. "My meat is hand rubbed, well seasoned, aged to perfection and always hot". Rick always wore it when he was making you a little romantic breakfast. Never in the neighbourhood barbecues though.

"You're gonna have to get rid of that apron," you gestured towards his chest, holding back your laughter.

"Yeah, yeah, I will," Rick looked down and sighed, then straightened out the fabric of the front, "When she learns to read, I'll throw it out, okay? I'll part with my dear apron for your sake."

"No, you're good. If she's got your brains, it'll take ten more years," you smirked, pinching your daughter's cheek as she babbled in her chair, fingers dipped into the dry fruit loops in her cup.

"O-ho-ho!" Rick laughed dryly, turning his grinning face to you, eyebrows high, "You want to insult your personal chef now! I'll make sure I burn yours," he scoffed and waved the spatula at you like a medieval weapon.

You walked up to him and wrapped your arms around his waist from behind as he turned to the stove.

"You know I only say it because it's true," you grinned against his shoulder and reached up to kiss the nape of his neck. He shuddered.

"Ticklish!" he warned.

"Oh, are you now?" you giggled, skittering your fingers up to his armpits and he squirmed with laughter, your daughter squealing in her chair, clapping her hands together at the show.

"No, stop, honey, the stove is on," Rick laughed, "Please - have mercy!" he turned to you and grabbed your wrists, giving you a grin, wrenching your hands off of him.

"Can you behave?" Rick cocked his head towards your daughter who was still giggling. His laugh always made her hyper.

"No, and your pancakes are burning," you grinned and gave him a quick, sweet kiss on the lips. He kissed you back tenderly before registering your words and swearing under his breath, whipping his head around to face the stove. Your daughter giggled again and Rick's eyes flickered to her and his face softened.

"Daddy's a klutz, isn't he?" he cooed to her from across the kitchen, "Daddy should feed this to the neighbor's dog, right, princess?"

She laughed again in and jumped up and down in her chair. You saw Rick mouth an "awh" before turning back to the stove.

You licked your lips. How many kids did he say he wanted again?

EDDIE

"Yes, yes!" he bellowed, as he took you by your waist and lifted you several feet into the air, spinning you around while you pounded playfully on his chest with your fists, laughing as tears streamed down your face, "Finally! Oh, I love you, I love you!"

He pressed you to his chest which shook with emotion as he breathed in the scent of your hair. You stroked his broad shoulders, stifling your own sobs by biting your lip and pressing your head into his chest. A warm silence filled the air as Eddie pressed soft little kisses to the crown of your head, muttering softly. You felt him rock you gently to the tune of the old radio.

"My darling. The mother of my children. I can't believe it."

"She's beautiful, just like her mother," Eddie whispered to you as the both of you stood over the improvised cot, watching your newborn daughter wiggle inside the many layers of blankets you had managed to find in the vocational block.

Eddie bent down to his daughter, his eyes glistening with adoration and tenderness, stroking the curls of soft black hair on her little head. She whined, leaning into his hand.

"She's got your eyes," you sighed and massaged his shoulder, leaning down as well, your nose mere inched from the little bundle in the cot.

"Really?" Eddie murmured, rubbing the pinkness of her skin softly, "I thought they were yours, darling."

"They might change," you whispered, curling your finger under her chin, "Newborns often change a little bit. My hair wasn't this color for sure when I got out of the womb," you smiled at your groom as his massive frame covered the baby as he leaned down to kiss her forehead. Another little grunt spilled from her lips and she screwed her eyes shut, kicking at her covers tiredly.

"Well, I'll be here to see if something changes," Eddie nodded, straightening his back and placing his chin on the top of your head, "You should go rest, dearest."

You looked down at the dried streaks of blood running down your legs and chuckled.

"I should go get a bath."

"I'll come with you," Eddie said, kissing the top of your head and rubbing your waist with his hand, almost needily.

"What, and leave the baby here?" you looked up at him.

"Oh," Eddie blushed a little bit, "Yes, I -..."

"Almost forgot?" you giggled, bending down to pick up your daughter, cringing at the pain in your loins but being flooded with oxytocin almost immediately after your skin touched hers.

"No!" Eddie blurted out defensively.

You turned to him with your newborn daughter in your arms.

"Take her," you said softly, standing on the tips of your toes, placing her in his arms, "Mind the head. Just like that."

Eddie gasped softly when you placed the child onto his hands for the first time. He looked at the stirring bundle of rags and pink, wrinkly skin and smiled, his eyes glinting in the dim light.

"She's tiny," he sighed, "Our baby. My god," he sniffled a little bit, exhaling deeply. You leaned over to kiss his cheek, stroking his forearm. The legacy he had always wanted. Here. Finally.

JEREMY

"Wait, what?" he lifted up the rickety plastic test that you had placed in front of him with his morning espresso, fixing his steely blue eyes on you "What's this?"

You just smiled, sipping your tea.

"What is this?" he repeated, wiggling the pregnancy test at you. Then something clicked.

"Are you pregnant?" Jeremy's voice was shaky, still hoarse from sleep as his eyes flickered between you, your stomach, and the red lines on the stick of plastic.

You nodded into your mug.

He leaned back on his chair, his face blank for a moment. Then he threw his arms up, his eyes much brighter, all tiredness washed away.

"You're pregnant!" he yelled, exasperated, his face melting into a smile, "I fucking knew it!" he rushed over to you in less than a second, his coffee cup clattering loudly against the marble of the countertop as he slammed it down, freeing his hands. You laughed as he wrapped his arms around you, the scent of his aftershave filling your nose as he kissed you, bitter coffee lingering on his lips.

"I'm home!" you called out from the hall, pulling the door shut with a heavy thump, kicking off your boots. You could already smell the scent of some microwave meal from the kitchen mixed with the scent of Jeremy's cologne. The distant jingle of a kids' show. You shook off your coat and started walking towards the living room, leaving your shopping bags on the doormat, fancy tissue paper rustling against sturdy bags with even fancier logos printed on them.

"Hey," you peeked your head in through the open entryway of the living room, the lacquered surfaces of sleek black furniture reflecting pastel colors from the massive plasma TV on the opposite wall. You could hear light snoring coming from the designer couch. You smiled and walked over to your husband, leaning down on the outside back of the couch.

He was sleeping in an upright position with your son curled up in his lap, Jeremy's feet slung over the glass coffee table. A bad habit. Stray crayons and colouring books littered the expensive carpet. Your son let out a whistling huff from his nose and shifted on his father's lap.

"Jer," you whispered softly, brushing your fingers against his hair, leaning over from behind him to place hover your chin over is shoulder, "Jer, wake up."

Jeremy jolted awake, looking around him in a few milliseconds of tired panic, spotted you and smiled.

"Hey, honey," he sighed, "We were just watching..." he narrowed his eyes at the television, "Super-d-... Wait, Super-dog and friends? Yeah. That."

"I see," you kissed his cheek, resting your chin on his shoulder, looking down at your son, "Had fun colouring?"

"He stole my pen," Jeremy pointed to the floor where a crudely drawn stick figure with too many fingers smiled with empty eyes beside a sloppily coloured Winnie the Pooh page. Some scribbled text on the bottom. MY DAD WORKS ATT MERKOF.

You chuckled.

"You guys are too cute," you rubbed his shoulder, "Wanna take him to bed? I brought some wine."

Jeremy stretched before wrapping his arms around your son, lifting him up carefully against his chest.

"He's gotten big," he remarked with a strained voice.

"Four years go by pretty fast," you hummed, stroking your son's red cheek with the back of your hand.

"Feels like yesterday."

"It really does."

"You haven't aged a day," Jeremy's eyes flicked to you and he smiled tenderly, "Gorgeous," he added.

You winked.

"Get him to bed, I'll go open the wine."

FRANK

"Huh?"

He finished licking the edge of the joint, his mouth hanging open slightly as his eyes fixed on your face.

"I'm pregnant," you repeated, slightly louder, "So you better not light that," you gestured to his hands.

Frank blinked at you, his face blank.

"A baby? We're gonna have a baby?"

The corners of his lips dipped down. For a second you thought he might burst into tears. Then a strained roar came from him as he jumped up from the dingy couch and jumped up to you, gripping your hands and leading you around the living room while jumping up and down in a frenzied dance, laughing with tears in his eyes.

"We're gonna have a baby," you hugged him tight, joining his feverish movements as the two of you jumped up and down like idiots, the creaking of the floorboards below you making you laugh, "We're gonna have a baby!" he yelled.

Someone pounded on the wall from the next apartment over.

"You're sure?" he stilled, panting, lifting his hands to your cheeks, "You're definitely sure?"

You nodded.

He kissed you, his scraggly beard scraping against your skin, his bare chest pressing to you.

"Oh, angel, I -... I have to..." Frank breathed against you, his eyes widening again, "I have to call my mama!"

You threw your head back and laughed as he vaulted over the back of the couch, skidded on the floor with his hole-speckled socks and dove into the bedroom in less than two seconds. You down, taking his joint from the floor between your fingers and shoving it in between the couch cushions. For safe keeping. He would need it in a few months. But from now on he had to smoke outside.

"Mom, mom," you felt a little hand smack your shoulder and you buried your head deeper into your pillow. You woke up in a jolt.

"What is it?" you groaned, your eyes crusty with sleep, "What's the time?"

"It's six a.m," you heard your daughter's giddy voice. You could tell from her voice she was grinning ear to ear. No emergency. Probably. Then you realized that her voice sounded kind of muffled.

You moaned. You still had an hour before your alarm would go off. But it seemed like your alarm was here. With lots of effort, you rose up and rubbed your eyes.

Your daughter was standing by your bedside, a sheet draped over her like a veil and a latex skeleton mask on her face. It was way too big for her. A silence filled the room. Then you could hear her breathe in deeply.

"I'm Santa Muerte," she whispered dramatically.

You stared.

"You're what now?"

Her shoulders slumped.

"Da-ad!" she yelled over her shoulder at the open door of the bedroom, "Mom doesn't know who I am!"

"Mom what?" you heard Frank's voice from the kitchen. They were both so loud.

Your daughter inhaled, ready to scream louder but you shushed her.

"Of course you're -... What's with the costume, baby?"

She shrugged, peeling the mask off of her face, giving you a gap-toothed smile.

"It was my idea," you heard Frank say as he appeared in the doorway, and to your surprise, was carrying a tray of food, still clad in his sleep attire. Faded boxers and an old band shirt.

"Oh, angel," you smiled at him tiredly, "You shouldn't have."

"I wanted to," he grinned behind his beard, "Happy mother's day."

You had forgotten.

"Oh, yeah," you mumbled as he set the tray on your nightstand and leaned in to kiss your cheek as you propped yourself up on your pillows.

"I wanted to scare you," your daughter grumbled and reached for a slice of toast but Frank snatched her wrist.

"Mom first," he said sternly, then his face twisted into a quizzical expression, "Why'd you want to scare mom? I thought you just wanted to perform some metal or something. The mask was mine," he added to you as you giggled into your slice of bread, swiping crumbs off the sheets.

Your daughter shrugged again.

"Thought it would be fun."

Frank opened his mouth to protest his involvement but you just laughed, ruffling your daughter's long black hair.

"Weirdo," you took another bite of bread and offered the rest of it to her as she scooted up to sit on your legs. Frank sat on the edge as well, taking your hand, rubbing his thumb on the cheap ring he'd bought you ages ago, eyeing the way the gold glinted in the dim light of the bedroom.

"Don't even think about replacing it," you warned and shoved a piece of toast in front of his mouth and he smiled before taking a bite.

DENNIS

"W-well I'll be goddamned," he grinned, enclosing your hand in both of his, lifting the bundle to his lips and placing a tender kiss to your fingers, "Y'all hear that? Me, a-a daddy? Shit..."

You laughed, reaching up to place a kiss on his cheek as he cradled your hand in his grip, so softly, like he was holding a baby bird.

"Don't get all soft on me, Dennie," you giggled, "You're going to make me cry."

He shook his head.

"D'you think th-they'll like him?"

"Who? The baby?"

He nodded, his grin twisting into a solemn look, his dark brown eyes fixed on yours, glimmering with intense happiness and even more intense worry.

"I'm sure they will," you whispered and stroked his cheek, "All that matters is me and you right now, okay?"

He nodded again.

"Hey, lil' guy," Dennis cooed, stroking your son's tiny, pink and wrinkled face with his index finger as he wailed and screeched in his arms, "He's sure g-got a pair o' lungs on him," he turned to you, chuckling as you held your arms open, as you tried to ignore the searing pain between legs. You were flooded with a need to hold your newborn. Hold them both. Your Dennie and his little boy.

"Give him to me," you sighed with a weak smile, "And get us a rag. We need to clean him."

Dennis placed the newborn onto your chest and he writhed against you as you rocked the child, shushing him gently.

"Careful, he's slippery," he cocked his head, flashing a wide toothy smile as he eyed the two of you, "They thought I didn't have enough man in me," he sighed.

"We shut them up," you winked at him and he nodded, reaching over to the side table, retrieving a torn piece of cloth and placing it in your outstretched hand.

"We showed 'em."

(screaming and crying and sobbing and shitting into my pillow rn because i can never be a baby mommy for fictional insane men)

403 notes · View notes

charsawdeath · 3 years

Text

Outlast AU

Watched Hamilton once, heard the songs a BILLION times thanks to my lil sis Misty-

NOT a music fic!

A fic for me and posted cause

1. I can!

2. No one cares as is!

And

Applesauce. It kills Waylon for my TragerxGluskin ship so who knows, maybe I'll get hate and THAT'S a comment so let's prove a fucking point

#written #my work #ao3 #outlast au #trager x gluskin #outlast whistleblower #outlast #richard trager #eddie gluskin #waylon park #miles upshur #dissociative dennis #silky variant #the pyromaniac

10 notes · View notes

lida-leeda · 4 years

Text

Sticker?😂BUT- I'm gonna make some final adjustments. Take the Cartoon Version For Now^^

#outlast #red barrels #richard trager #rick #pauline glick #pauline x rick #jeremy blaire #eddie gluskin #miles upshur #waylon park #chris walker #au

35 notes · View notes

cosmicworms · 5 years

Text

The whistleblower.

THE JUMPSUIT IS PRACTICALLY DONE. Ive been stuck inside all day so i decided to do a full Waylon costest. I still gotta dirty up the jumpsuit but- so far im p happy with how it turned out

#outlast #outlast whistleblower #outlast 2 #waylon park #waylon park cosplay #eddie gluskin #miles upshur #walrider #chris walker #richard trager #frank manera #billy hope #blood #gore #fuck yeah outlast #weddie #eddie x waylon

24 notes · View notes

the-creeping-shadow · 5 years

Text

Not so complete Outlast fic list

@midnightmusings-isolde replied to your post:

As rare as it is, I believe one of my favourite...

Hmm never read any Outlast fics. Any recommendations?

I might not be the most reliable person to ask for a rec list since I’m quite the picky fanfic reader and usually have niche tastes, if I dare say so, but I can try :D I’m not sure what characters and genres you prefer, but here are a few, unsurprisingly focusing on Trager or otherwise featuring him in an important role. I suppose it’s also needless to say that a lot of Outlast fanfics feature gore and other “mature” stuff?

Mr. Trager by @one-sadistic-bitch

Relationships: OC/Trager Status: WIP Summary: “Most of the people in this world stick by a certain way of thinking. Nobody believes in the idea of redemption anymore. Once bad, always bad, right? I know better. You see, every now and again, something sick and twisted can become something strong and beautiful. Some of the greatest things can hide in the most unlikely places. I was simply lucky to have stumbled upon one.”

I’ll leave any commentary to the author ;3 I myself am curious which direction the plot will head. If you like Trager, angst, and romance, this story might be for you. The story is narrated from a first person perspective, through the OC’s eyes.

A Crash Course in Surgery 101 by whenrosesweredragons

Status: finished Summary: “Waylon said it himself: Gluskin’s an amateur surgeon, but he had help learning what he does know.”

This is one of the stories I had in mind when I typed that post. Dark humour with Eddie asking Trager for help in surgery. This underlying sense of Trager’s resentment towards Murkoff in the story is a small bonus in my book, too. X)

Outlast: Birth by Flame by Unquiet_Grave Relationships: OC/Trager (from what I’m seeing, it’s not the focus of the story) Status: finished Summary: “After a failed suicide attempt, Mel is thrown into a secret, experimental treatment program for women at Mount Massive. She hopes to find a cure for the bizarre condition that has stolen her life away. When chaos erupts at the asylum, she is forced to survive, fighting for her life and sanity. She wants nothing more than to escape, but the other personalities living inside of her have different ideas. Another patient, a strange, Bible-thumping woman with a dark secret, may hold the key to stopping Murkoff's hellish experiments. Mel must find her first, while fending off Variants, Father Martin's cultists, Murkoff soldiers, and, most terrifying of all, her own, bloodthirsty inner demons.”

This is a story I’m currently reading myself and haven’t finished yet. Quite creative and incorporates the Outlast canon for women at Mt. Massive well. OC-centric; follows the protag’s adventures through the asylum.

This Means War by Madame_Tentacle

Status: finished Summary: “The days at Mt. Massive pass by slowly when you're an overpaid executive, but Rick has a plan to keep things moving.”

Even Outlast knows light-hearted and humorous moments... in fanfiction at least. This is a nice, funny little fanfic featuring office pranks between Rick and Jeremy.

Going Down by ravenousgrue

Status: finished Summary: “This sort of thing isn't supposed to happen to guys like Rick.”

A fic focusing on how Trager got admitted to the asylum, based on the premise of a security breach (i.e not related to the comic). This guy also has his fair share of trauma...

things Trager is not allowed to do at Mount Massive Asylum by N/A (it says “orphan_account”)

Status: finished What it says on the tin. It’s really funny. ^^

Follow the Blood by ravenousgrue

Status: finished A collection of Outlast drabbles featuring pretty much every game character you can think of. There should be something for everyone therefore. It even includes a cat’s adventure through the asylum :3

Outlast Novelization by Aalt-Jackal

Status: finished Summary: “People were being hurt, and Murkoff was making money. Miles Upshur had plans to gather the evidence that would finally break those bastards, but what he finds waiting for him in Mount Massive is more than he bargained for. Armed with only a camera and his tenacity, would he be able to survive the nightmares fabricated by the minds of broken men?”

Truth to be told, I haven’t read this one yet myself, but I feel like the list wouldn’t be sufficient if it didn’t include a novelization of the game. From what I see on the first glance, it looks good and seems to be fairly popular, too. I believe it was also rec’d on TV tropes?

Purgatorium by TheCreepingShadow (me) Status: WIP (rest assured that you can ask me about it) Summary: “"He has been playing with fire for far too long, believing himself to be its master. And in the end, he got burned." Working at Murkoff Richard Trager got more than he bargained for. After an attempted manslaughter he comes to the realization that his rank had never meant anything to Murkoff. In the end, he was just another nuisance to be disposed of. Subjected to the Morphogenic Engine treatment, he struggles to maintain the last bits of his sanity as the line between dream and reality begins to blur.”

Will I be so conceited and put my own fanfic here? Yes. Yes, I will. Just this time. This is basically a result of my moaning about the lack of Trager fanfic. Supposed to be psychological horror primarily focusing on Trager’s downfall, how he copes as an asylum patient, and how the “doctor” personality emerges.

This list is obviously far from complete. I’m pretty sure there are more Outlast fics that are good. I just haven’t read or found them all :P Other fans are welcome to add to the list and/or make their own ^^

... Pfft, what makes you think I'm obsessed with Trager?

#Outlast #Outlast fanfiction #fanfiction list #I won't lie #I do mostly search for fics featuring my faves #which is why most of these are Trager centric #there are some I left out on purpose #but otherwise #I'm not sure whether I am recommending fics for others or whether I just made a list for myself?#there are some Russian ones that I liked too #I'm sorry #I can't help myself! :D #oops #reply #midnightmusings-isolde

7 notes · View notes

walriderhost · 6 years

Text

OUTLAST | HIGH SCHOOL AU

Miles Upshur and Waylon Park have been best friends and neighbors their whole life. Their parents work for the same company, the Murkoff coporation. They don’t really know what it is is or what they do, just that they make decent money.

Junior year they have to move though, because both their parents have joined a sub section of the company known as Mount Massive Innitiative. They move to Colorado. Miles and Way aren’t really upset about it though, because they get to move to Colorado together. The town of Mt. Massive Homestead is nestled into the side of the Continental Divide. They’ve moved to a nobody town. It’s got a population of maybe 10,000. Conveniently, the school’s name is also Mt. Massive High School and it’s the only one in a 20 mile radius. Because of this, it is decently staffed, and has a decent sized student body.

First day at school, they realize the freshman class is a whopping 300 people, and that the senior class is about 100. The Principal, Richard Trager, comes to greet them at the door. He seems kind of creepy but they both assume that’s just how it’s going to be in this town.

Luckily, the two have some of the same classes, so they don’t have to suddenly spend all their time apart. They meet some very nice sophomores, Blake and Lynn, who are very into conspiracy theories and cryptids. They have their friend Jessica as well, who’s a quiet freshman. Miles and Way decide she seems nice enough, though she’s definitely seen some shit.

Blake and Lynn warn them about Eddie. He’s the school bully, and a raging homophobe. They say that he probably gets it from his dad, who abuses him when he gets home, but no one really knows. Sometimes Trager puts a stop to it but other times he lets it slide.

Blake and Lynn say that his dad used to work for the abandoned asylum way back in the hills, and that he probably saw some shit there that messed him up pretty badly. They think the place is haunted but they’re not certain.

Another notable personality at the school is Chris Walker. He walks down the hallways and Miles can sense that he hates being looked at. Unfortunately, he’s an enormous dude. He has to be a super senior, right? The dude is 6 feet tall, and BUILT. Lynn tells him that in the past few years he’s packed on and lost weight at a crazy rate. Every month he looks different. He’s also wearing a letterman jacket, and around his neck Way spots a keychain.

Blake tells them that Walker is Trager’s right hand man in running the place. He’s the ‘hired’ security. As far as everyone knows tho, he was held back twice Freshman year. Everyone generally stays away from him. He’s half the authority around here.

Blake also tells him about another student: William Hope. He’s a senior and he’s lived in the town his entire life. They talk about he lives in one of the five trailers in the tiny trailer park at the edge of town with his mother. They grew up with him and the insist that he used to be one of the sweetest people in their class, until about Freshman year, when he started ditching class. Now he looks deeply tired all the time, and is sullen and meek. Lynn tells Mile’s he’s like a ghost of his former self. No one really knows why either. His mother, who used to be especially white trash, seems to be doing better.

When Miles’ goes to the bathroom in third period (to take a break from his History teachers personality (her name is Marta and she’s NUTS)), he sees who he can only assume to be William. Miles can tell if he’s skinny or lean, but he’s wearing a black button up and dark jeans. His hair is disheveled, and he’s just sitting in the stairwell by himself, reading what looks to be a journal. Miles wouldn’t ever say it aloud, but he seems kinda hot- in a tired and sad way.

[THERE IS A LOT MORE, including plot along the lines of the original game, but I will type it up later.]

Miles x Walrider!Billy, Waylon x Miles, Miles x Eddie, Eddie x Chris ensues.

#outlast #miles upshur #eddie gluskin #waylon park #camera shipping #!!!!!!!!!!!!!#walrider

151 notes · View notes

chaliskys-blog · 4 years

Note

Yandere Richard Trager x Reader? (If that's alright)

Yes of course, sorry it took a while but here it is. I didn’t really know how to write about a yandere character but I hope I got it right. Enjoy and thank you for the ask

⊱ 𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 ⊰

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞!𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫.

You managed to slither your way out of the chair that mad doctor put you in, picking up your camcorder you were prepared to get the hell out of here. With a deep breath you opened the door anxiously, immediately you heard this patient strapped to a bed start speaking to you about 'Trager' that must've been the guy that helped you and then captured you.

"How do I get out of here!?" You whispered to the guy but to no avail the guy just kept on speaking louder and louder with each word, before the doors behind you were flung open.

"Buddy!"

"Oh shit." You were terrified, this guy was really obsessed.

"Now, are you gonna cooperate with me here and go back into that room or am I gonna have to cut your feet off?" He said standing in front of you.

"Not talking eh? What about when I do this?" He said stabbing the poor guy on the bed with his bone shears, you see this as a time to escape and dashed past him. You heard him groan with annoyance, there wasn't many places for you to go, except an elevator however it needed a key and knowing that secular maniac was on your tail, would make it harder to search the place. You see a open vent hopefully a way out of here. Climbing through you realize it only took you to the next hallway, this one was much more creepier. Slowly walking down you see a plethora of rooms to discover, your discoveries were cut short when a very angry Trager knocked down the doors to the side of you and pinned you against a wall.

"Where do you think you're going sweetheart? Ricks gonna take good care of you." He said maniacally.

"N-nowhere." You stuttered gripping your jackets sleeves, he was getting super close you could feel his breath on your face.

"You, are mine. You got that?"

You nodded slowly, you didn't know how you were gonna get out of this situation, all you could do was agree with him. He grabbed you by the arm dragging you back to the room you were tied up in, the bottom of your shoes scraping along the floorboards, Trager could tell you were uncomfortable and he loved it. You made it back to the room you were in before, Trager throwing you in as a smirk plastered on his face.

"I'm gonna enjoy this!" He said slamming the door shut, you were screwed.

87 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

lockandkeyhyena

mr horsegirl

n3vermlnd

soul meets body

dashing--knight-blog

*~ Knight ~*

finniestoncrane

riddler-coded (autistic) 💚🩷

happysoldlady

samcro and mayans