Tumgik
#miles upshur x jeremy blaire
c3lestialmonarch · 2 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.
12 notes · View notes
amaranthine-fangs · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media
camerashipping pandering, jsyk i dont really ship them!
233 notes · View notes
distorted-twink · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media
192 notes · View notes
thatsodapopgirl · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
3 notes · View notes
iblewthewhistle · 2 years
Text
The cabin is quiet in the morning when it’s inhabitants start to stir. As the sun creeps up over the treeline, Waylon is already awake and making coffee in the abandoned kitchen, half dressed in boxers and a vest, giving whoever wakes next a good morning kiss and hug.
This morning, it’s Alex, who is ready to go for a morning swim, but takes a small cup of coffee out with him, returning the kiss and hugging him back. Miles follows quickly, so the Walrider can have a chance to flow into the water with him.
He stands on the shore as supervision for the two with a coffee that Waylon hands him, giving the blonde a sharp swat on the ass, getting a lazy kick to the shins in response.
Gale is the next to rise, taking a coffee with a quiet thanks, and heads out to keep Miles company as he watches the Walrider and Alex race the lake.
Waylon gives him a kiss too, before pouring two more cups of coffee, and going back to his own bed, and setting the spare cup on the drawers. He starts up his laptop to get the day’s mail from Simon, and smiles as Jeremy shifts next to him, an arm snaking around his waist.
“Coffee’s there. The others are out at the lake.” He smirks as Jeremy kisses at his thigh.
3 notes · View notes
rohansregret · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
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
Tumblr media
Copyright © [2022] by [rohansregret]
16 notes · View notes
bakaspy · 3 years
Text
🅰️🅱️🅾️🅱️🅰️
133 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)
394 notes · View notes
chaliskys-blog · 3 years
Text
So I found out my meme I made a while ago kinda blew up and became the Outlast hashtag background image and I’m honestly so happy idek why but thank you everyone that enjoys my trash ilysm ;_;
Tumblr media
201 notes · View notes
this link is expired there’s a new one on my account
57 notes · View notes
lida-leeda · 4 years
Text
Tumblr media
Sticker?😂BUT- I'm gonna make some final adjustments. Take the Cartoon Version For Now^^
35 notes · View notes
charsawdeath · 3 years
Text
Outlast AU
My own Headcanons here-
-
After surviving the elevator crushing with a little help from the Walrider DNA swarming inside his veins, Trager goes about his life as normal.
Tending to his Ducklings.
Touring the Kiddies.
Coming face to face with Buddy!
3 notes · View notes
Text
Yandere Outlast: Various Yandere Outlast Headcanons/Scenarios/Possible Oneshots Rules And Request Open
Here is what you can Request and the rules.
1: Rules No Sexual Relations with anyone 15 and younger (Has To be at least 16)
2: Reader can be any gender, gender identity, sexuality, and other things like (Chubby, curvy, blind)
For Example
Can I have a Eddie Gluskin X Transgender (Male To Female), Bisexual, Chubby Reader
Or
Walrider X Non Binary, Pansexual, blind Reader
3: You can also ask for OCS, being only mine and my co author OCS, my co author, Marie Or her Genderbent Mark
Or
Mine, Michelle or the genderbent Michael
4: You can ask for headcanons, scenarios, and I will rarely do oneshots but maybe, and questions like
Who would be the most like to be aggressive with their darling compared to gentle of the yandere from outlast whistleblower
Aggressive:
The Twins
Jeremy Blaire
Richard Tragger
Gentle:
Miles
Waylon
Father Martin
Both:
Eddie
Chris Walker
Walrider
5: What type of yanderes?
The yanderes can be anyone from anyone of the Disney Characters to you the Reader (Though this is rare) and the genderbent characters like
Female Eddie Gluskin X Reader
6: You can do also any version of the Characters like here is some versions of Eddie Gluskin
Sane (Sort of) Eddie Gluskin
Priest Eddie Gluskin
Father Eddie Gluskin
Mother Eddie Gluskin
and so much more
7: You can also do Characters X Characters
like
Yandere Chris Walker X Miles Upshur
8: Be patient as this is at least my 9th oneshot series and yes another one for historical figures is on the way XD So I may be slow to doing request but I will do them.
9: the yanderes can share, fight over you are be in a poly relationship where they date each other and you
10: Stay Sexy!
28 notes · View notes
walridernightmares · 7 years
Text
MOUNT MASSIVE RIOT MUSE PROFILE
(© alexkolm)
repost with the information of your muse, including headcanons, etc. when you’re done, tag other people to do the same!!
tagged by: stolen from the author, @alexkolm
tagging: @walridiing, @whistleblower-waylon, @joshiisms, @murkoffjanitor, @murkoffsapostles, @aloneandlosing, @gxtt-im-himmcl, @birthchrist, @poorlittlejoseph (all your side blogs too)
NAME: Miles Upshur AGE: 25 LOCATION AT START OF RIOT: En route to Mount Massive OCCUPATION: Independent Investigative Journalist GOAL: To tell the world about the atrocities of Mount Massive and to get out alive.
—————————————————————————- [ ITEMS ]
WEAPON/S: 0 CAMCORDER: 1 BATTERIES: Up to 10 MEDICAL EQUIPMENT: TRAGER YOU FUCK! OTHER: Fabulous sense of style.
—————————————————————————-
[ OUTSIDE FORCES ]
ALLIES: Father Martin, technically Waylon, Trager-Traitor ENEMIES: Trager, Chris Walker, technically Jeremy Blaire, all of Murkoff NEUTRAL: Father Martin, Silky Variant, the Pyromaniac NATURAL DANGERS: The crumbling asylum, flooded places UNNATURAL DANGERS:  Patients, the Walrider
—————————————————————————-
[ PHYSICAL ]
INJURIES: Missing fingers, fractured shoulder bone, copious amounts of bruises ILLNESSES: None at the time STRENGTHS:  Parkour, lean/wiggly, clever, quick WEAKNESSES: Not a body builder, doesn’t think ahead, poor emotional iq SKILLS: Writing, finding trouble IMPOSSIBLE FEAT/S: Survives/Achieves symbiosis with the Walrider
—————————————————————————-
[ MENTAL ]
DIAGNOSIS / SYMPTOMS: None LENGTH OF ASYLUM STAY: One terrifying night ENGINE SIDE-EFFECTS [IF APPLICABLE]:  N/A TRAUMAS:  TRIGGERS: N/A
—————————————————————————- [ OTHER DETAILS ]
SEES THE WALRIDER?: yes [X] || no [ ] || occasionally [ ]
MEETS DR WERNICKE?: yes [X] || no [ ] || occasionally [ ]
MEETS BILLY HOPE?: yes [X] || no [ ]
MEETS OTHER CANON CAST?: yes [  ] || no [X]
7 notes · View notes
outlustings · 2 years
Note
just curious— do you think jeremy blaire is the type to get jealous when the female reader talks / laughs with other guys ? or will he be insecure ? same question goes for miles.
it’s fine if you don’t want to write this heh
(happy valentines day here's jeremy blaire being the manipulative bastard he is lol. the day of love and all that.)
×
JEREMY BLAIRE
Jeremy is one manipulative bastard.
Honestly, I do think Jeremy is the kind of guy to get jealous when he sees you laughing and joking around with other men. Even if he tried to convey this image of being cool, calm and collected at all times, he internally panics when you're just enjoying time with another person who happens to be male. Toxic masculinity things and all that.
Even if you're not dating, he's obsessed with the thought of owning you. You caught his attention and now - now you have to suffer the consequences.
Outwardly, Jeremy will seem fine. But he will definitely try to insert himself into the conversation, making a point to brush up against you or pat you on the shoulder. Just to try and let you know you belong to him. He'll smile and nod at the other gentleman, maybe offer up some sharp observations about their manners and such. Squish them down a little bit. They're not good enough for you.
He thinks you belong to him.
You think it's awkward. Especially when you're not dating.
But if you're dating - oh boy.
He'll be openly touchy with you if he sees you striking up a conversation with another guy, settle his hand on the small of your back, pulling you closer to him as he acts like everything is fine, taking over your conversation with the guy, not letting you get a word in as he tries to push his "competitor" away with the sheer awkwardness.
Smirks triumphantly when the guy walks away. You just glare at him. This happens all too often.
And when you get home, he's sure to remind you what he thinks about your social habits.
He'll be very upset for no good reason.
But the way he shows his frustration at it all is not to take it out on you - not directly. He'll make you feel bad for him, with him giving you the silent treatment and being upset. It stems from his insecurity. And you have to be there to comfort him when he's the one who should be apologizing. But he'll justify it by saying he loves you too much.
Make up sex. With lots of hickeys to make sure everyone knows you belong to him.
He is a very jealous person simply because he thinks the world is his oyster and you're his personal plaything and should have eyes for him and only him.
×
MILES UPSHUR
Miles, on the other hand, respects and trusts you enough to not be too pressed about it.
Before you were dating, sure, he had that kind a jealousy we all have when we're crushing on someone. Irrational frustration at something that's normal.
He's always very joking about it, if it's a mutual friend or an acquaintance, he'll come up to you and adopt his best mafia accent and be all: "Is this fella bothering you, toots?"
Wholesome cringe.
Might go home and scream into his pillow though, because he wants that to be him. He wants to be the one you're so close to. Sure, you do talk a lot with him, text him a lot, slap his arm when he tells a crude joke, sometimes you bite your lip when you look up into his eyes as he's telling you about his new project, all passionate... Wait. Was he overthinking it? Maybe you did like him better than anyone else? Maybe?
Miles is kind of a confused mess.
But if you start dating, he calms down, because he doesn't need to take it seriously.
He doesn't own you.
He trusts you when you say that he's your one and only. Because he treats you as an equal.
115 notes · View notes
vebzz · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media
One of the drawings from my Eddie Gluskin x Waylon Park book on AO3!  If you wanna read, check it out here! https://archiveofourown.org/works/33015163/chapters/81947437#workskin
21 notes · View notes