#pre engine trager
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fugly little class doodles i made waiting out a maths exam, excuse the wheezer cats i was bored HEEHEE
#outlast#outlast fandom#richard trager#leland coyle#outlast fanart#pre engine outlast#doodle#i fuckig hate math#no moar math pleeks
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outlast is a game you can play
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Question: What kind of accent does Richard Trager have exactly? 🤔
#rick trager#team rick#pre!engine richard trager#outlast#richard trager#murkoff corporation#questions#need answers#thank you folks
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DNA
DNA - What was your Muse's home life like?
Before the unending isolation in Mount Massive, Rick lived in an open floor-plan studio refurbished from an old mill. Upper floors, probably the third. He kept a variety of teas in his cabinets, and his favorite place in the flat was the kitchen. It was the cleanest room of his home.
There was always order. Specific things had specific places, A vase filled with twigs and red ferns near the door, the couch pillows each had a partner they nestled up against in the crook of the couch's cushions. Not a picture frame was ever out of place. In Richard's eyes, his home was the one thing he knew he could control, and he felt content in that thought.
He preferred to not have company over, unless he felt desperately alone. More drugs for him, he justified. The rare occasions he'd have someone over were the quiet, late nights when everyone in the city was asleep. He needed to feel some sort of connection to what he was, after all. Drugs can't mend a person-sized hole in your heart. As life before the engine had it, Richard could never hold onto one person for long enough. He was too messy, she was too loud, he wanted too much cocaine, they wanted to 'Fix Him'--- the list of Not Right People didn't seem to have an end for Rick. Eventually, his days began to bleed together during the florescent blindness of the asylum, and his home became a sore memory of another love lost.
As sore as the more recent memories were of Richard's apartment, the home he shared with his family gushed like a stuck pig if he poked it, and he abandoned that light before it could die out first. He remembers only the fun he'd made with his sister when they were children. That haven is half of the reason he has any concept of his current self at all. A treehouse he and his sister made of twigs and rope felt sturdier than the insured, two-story home his parents owned at the end of a cul-de-sac.
He blocks out the recalling of them, but often will have nightmares of terrible arguments his parents would have, and the terror would take form of the subject they'd fight about; another man or woman usually overbearingly affectionate towards Rick and his sister, a devil or dead man with coins over his eyes and gold nuggets falling from his sleeves, whipping sounds would crack and disorient Rick, blind him, even... It wasn't ever alright.
A horrid memory will creep its way into his mind's eye from time to time, when he and his sister found a lake that buoyed a corpse towards them, all bloated and foul. He dared his sister to touch the corpse, and after her crying and refusing, he pushed his sister onto the corpse. He vividly remembers how he felt when he did it. Frustrated, cynical, bitter. His sister would crawl back onto her feet after getting soaked and pushing the corpse's head into the murkiness below the water, and like a light switch, Rick snapped into the reality of what he'd done. Tears flooded his eyes, and he grabbed his sister up, apologizing profusely. The relationship would never be the same, but she expressed forgiveness the night Richard left his parents' home.
That night was muggy. Cicadas and beetles chirped outside, hiding the back door opening and closing. Rick woke his sister up, and took her to the treehouse they made together. The tweens shared a bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey, as Richard told her his plan of leaving, and he swore. He swore he'd find her and whisk her away to another treehouse he'd make just for them. He kissed her on the forehead, and they hugged for a long time. It was the last time they would share a bottle of whiskey. This, he reminds himself, I will always remember.
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Decided to draw some Pre-Engine Trager! (This is inspired by a fanfic I'm currently writing, where Miles is still an investigative journalist, but he's also working undercover as Trager's personal assistant.)
#outlast fanart#outlast fandom#richard trager#rick trager#richard trager fanart#team rick#outlast#murkoff corporation#miles upshur#red barrels#horror art#video game fanart#the murkoff account#my art
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HEYYYYY❗❗
Sorry I died, I did look at the requests and most of it was for richard trager, he seems very popular wow !! However I seemed to have the worst artblock ever and drew only one shitty drawing. Crying and sobbing. This specific one was pre engine trager very epic
I'll draw more of him I promise ❗❗
Tyforthepeoplewhorequested!!
Also new years 2023 lesgoo
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my only problem with the murkoff account is that pre engine rick doesn’t have long hair and isn’t old af. if richard trager doesn’t look like a judge in salem in 1692 condemning a woman of witchcraft i DO NOT want him
#he is old TO ME#crusty ass#outlast#richard trager#rick trager#he defo would have those fucking old man ass glasses as well#variants#the murkoff account
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I loved what you wrote for Eddie!! I’d love it if you wrote something for Trager with a female reader!
Chat Log Name : I’ll give you very special attention
Chat log description: You have known Richard Trager since his fall from grace.
USERS : Richard Trager, Female! Reader
!! CONTENT WARNINGS : Trager is OOC, Canon-ish behavior of Murkoff. !!
Pre-mount massive Trager
Trager always had his eyes on you even if he was constantly inviting your coworkers to extravagant dinners that you could seemingly only dream of.
Multiple of your coworkers complained to you about feeling exhausted after being invited by Trager or waking up in the car ride home with closed incisions that they seemingly gained during the date but they couldn’t remember how they gained it. He got close, a bit too close for his own liking.
He knew that it wasn’t your fault, it was simply wrong place and wrong time. His eyes that once dissected every single movement and breath that you marked in his memory finally decided to look away. After all, it was just a harmless joke that Murkoff took seriously. He heard your voice trembling; repeating the same words like a broken record about how you didn’t need a voluntary stay in Mount massive but it was disagreed by more higher ups that you did. Nobody enjoys listening to a broken record.
He heard the commotion from his office, seeing how you were almost going to step a foot outside before being held back by guards and falling to your knees due to a dosage being injected and wheeled away in a gurney and restraints.
Mount massive Trager
Trager followed the bloody footsteps, the blood was fresher since it still had the red in the color. It seems to be—he looked back in boiling frustration, scratching his scarred scalp and sucked in a breath and returned to his patient that seemed to scream for his attention. So desperate, so needy for him.
He finished ‘discussing’ with the patient and decided to follow the once fresh footprints that lead him to the elevator lobby where he never expected to see the face of the broken record staring back at him and carrying the body of a rusted bucket filled with a mixture of blood and pieces of skin, fingers, and a scalp. You still wore the uniform that had been given, scars on your forearm from the morphogenetic engine.
He somehow managed to get you a room that was somewhat clean and didn’t have the occasional screaming patient from down the hall. You sat on the mattress with the rusted bucket still on your lap and looking at the cracks in the tile that soon soaked up with your blood from the cuts on your soles.
He couldn’t seem to spill any words to you and he finally got you here with him.
“I remember when you took me on a date.” You smiled. “It was wonderful, wasn’t it?”
“I n—it was,” he replied. “You in that outfit and the candlelights.”
Your eyes looked around the room but the constant screaming of a patient echoed throughout the hall and seeing him pinch his temple before excusing himself to deal with a patient.
Trager grumbled back holding the bottom of a broken alcohol bottle that still had enough for a small amount for two people. One for you and one for him but his somewhat heart dropped seeing the door of the room open. The homemade shears rested in his hand, his eyes scanned the room with the cracked glasses.
Rusted bucket turned over and revealed the inner contents of shards of glass, rocks, and dried leaves. You were nowhere to be found, you must’ve left the room but he knew the insides of his section. He heard your laughter echoing from the other side of the hall, leaving the broken bottle bottom on the cracked floor and running towards your laughter only for it to fade each time he got close to it; every time out of his grasp.
He panted, finally stopping the chase and hearing your laughter fade away down the hall. He walked the way back to the room where he left the broken bottle bottom only to see the contents of the rusted bucket and the bucket itself was gone.
#outlast x reader#the outlast series x reader#outlast Trager x reader#richard trager x reader#Outlast rick trager x reader#dr trager x reader
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Underground Lab
Richard Trager x fem!reader
Warnings: trager, pre engine trager being a sleaze and an asshole and charmingggg <3, readers also kind of an asshole to match his energy, heavy insinuation to smut. plotless.
You sometimes wondered if the people who built Mount Massive knew how to make a floorplan that made sense. Walking through the long hallways always felt repetitive. They looked the same until you were on the other side of the building, in a completely different ward.
You looked down at your clipboard, your shoes making light clicking noises on the ground. You had to consciously take each turn deliberately, otherwise you would get lost. No matter how many times you left your office, you were bound to get lost one of these times and you had no interest in seeing first hand some of the stuff you were signing off on. Not unless you had to.
You took a deep breath as you walked into the elevator. The doors started to shut but were halted by a hand sliding between them. The doors reopened, much to your dismay. Jeremy Blaire revealed himself with a smirk, sliding in beside you.
“Jeremy,” you said, nodding your head once. He gestured to the button you had pushed. U. The underground lab.
“What are you doing all the way down there?” he questioned and pushed the button for the male ward.
“What are you doing going to the male ward?” you questioned pointedly. You tried to avoid Jeremy where you could. He liked to hear himself talk and you were usually too busy to listen. In theory, he ran this place. In reality, it was anything but him. He just evaded the press and any kind of actual prosecution.
“Visiting the patients. I like to be hands on.” You rolled your eyes.
“Who warrants your attention today?” He cleared his throat and looked down at the papers in his hands. He squinted, pretending it was hard to read.
“Martin…Arch..Archimbaud,” he spelled out. You hummed under your breath.
“Fantastic finger painter. In theory. I’ve never seen his work.”
“Is he the one that caused problems when we discontinued the art-”
“Yeah.” The door opened to the male ward. Jeremy took a step forward but stood in the door when it didn’t shut.
“You still on for that barbecue? Rick said you were busy with work. It would be a shame if you missed it.” You rolled your eyes.
“I’ll be there, I’m sure he’ll drag me. Go to work. Say hi to Martin for me.”
Jeremy nodded, gesturing with his file as a mock goodbye. You let the door shut as he walked away. As you descended, you felt your stomach drop. You hated the underground lab. You hated being there. You hated thinking about it. It made you face your own guilt, not to mention your own mortality. But times called for you down there on occasion and you needed to be there. Not to mention, you weren’t allowed down there for obvious reasons. Women stayed at least on the floor above. Just in case.
The elevator door opened. You stepped forward into the white sterile atmosphere. It always felt like you were in a completely different place. It made you long for the comfort of your desk, something you knew.
“Took you long enough,” Rick Trager said, emerging from the cafeteria. You rolled your eyes.
“I had a job to do.”
“Don’t you always.” You let out a soft sigh and he put his hand on the small of your back. You cursed yourself for letting his touch make you shiver. All of this carnage and you still managed to find a completely human angle. Love. Or, at the very least, lust.
“Is that your way of yet again telling me to take a break?” you questioned. “Because I do your job better than you do. You better watch your back,” you joked dryly.
“Why do you think I called you down here?” he slurred. He gestured to the engine as the two of you came upon it. It wasn’t currently processing anyone aside from Billy.
“Is that you asking for help Richard Trager?” you questioned, smiling slyly.
“Don’t act like you have the upper hand here.” There were a couple of other workers around the room, noses stuck in their computers. He sat down on the control panel, barely even glancing to make sure he hadn’t hit any of the buttons. “I like involving you. It’s entertaining.”
“Bored of golfing with Jeremy already?”
“He doesn’t look nearly as good as you do,” he promised, looking at you through his glasses sharply. You rolled your eyes.
“What is it I’m doing here again Rick?”
He glanced out the window at the body of Billy Hope. He looked as dismal as you remembered him. You tried not to look .
“Need you to process the date from Billy here,” he pointed with his thumb.
“Don’t you have, I don’t know, a whole room of people for that?” you questioned dumbly. “What am I doing here?”
He let out an annoyed sigh and stood up straight.
“Can’t I just make an excuse to see you?”
“Trager.”
“Oh don’t call me that. Only the patients and my subordinates get to call me Trager.”
“Does that make me an equal?” He chuckled.
“You’re cute.” You kept seeing the engine out of the corner of your eye. You didn’t like being down here and clearly there was no reason for you to be. You grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the room. He followed suit, watching eagerly as you opened up one of the laboratory rooms. There was only one man in there and you gave them a pointed look. They left without you having to say anything, packing their things silently. It must’ve been the combined look that you and Trager were giving him. The door shut swiftly behind the employee and you crossed your arms.
“Begging for attention is beneath you.”
“You think too highly of me.”
He took a step towards you, cornering you between him and the island table. You put yourself in this situation. You knew him. You knew what he would do. You just so happened to want it too.
“You coming to the barbecue?” he questioned, smirking a bit.
“I cannot believe you’re having a barbecue.”
“Jeremy’s having a barbecue with some executives.”
“I’m not an executive.”
“You’re an executive’s…how should we phrase this…”
“Slut? Whore? Toy? Or can I say girlfriend?”
He cupped your cheek and kissed you with his whole chest. You pressed yourself against him.
It was the annoyingness in his voice, the smirk on his lips, the sleaze in his step. What should’ve made you hate his guts made you want to pull his hair. He lifted you up onto the counter, knocking over what could’ve been important information and likely dangerous samples. You hooked your leg around his waist and pulled him even closer, if that was possible.
When you tried to pull away he tugged on your lip, pulling it out sloppily. You hadn’t even bothered to lock the door. Anyone could come in at any time. The excitement made your stomach warm.
“Answer the question Richard,” you hummed, not letting him kiss you again even though he was lunging for another attempt.
“I like whore. Has a nice ring to it, don't cha think?”
“Mmm wrong answer!” The game you had going with him could last forever. You knew that. But you liked it. You slid off of the table and around him. He scoffed.
“Don’t tell me you’re one of those girls who needs a label.”
“I’m a girl who has work to do Rick. And other guys to fuck.” You opened the door, leaning against the side of it. His jaw set in annoyance. You had trapped his jealous noncommittal ass. “I’m going back upstairs.”
“Wait,” he seethed. It was painful. You could see it. You tried not to smile. “Come to the barbecue. As my date.”
“That wasn’t a question.”
“Wasn’t meant to be. More of a demand.”
“I’ll see if the executive above me will give me the time off,” you said, shrugging. He rolled his eyes, smirking. You shut the door behind you as you left and smiled triumphantly. What an asshole. You were probably in love with him.
You were about to enter the elevator when he caught up to you.
“I’ll join you,” he decided.
You stepped inside and watched with quiet delight as the doors shut behind him and he pushed the emergency halt button. This time you let him kiss you.
#this is shitty my love trager you deserve more than this#richard trager x reader#outlast imagines#richard trager x fem!reader#richard trager imagines
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the one thing I just noticed about trager is that in the murkoff account/pre-engine, he never wore glasses of any kind (unless he had contacts, but I mean it’s impossible to know)
..so does that mean after the walrider incident he just chose to pick up some rad looking doctor lenses just for shits and decided to walk around in them or-
#he was just like ‘yeah these look bitchin I’m gonna wear them while I torture the other patients lmao’#like someone explain this to me#richard trager#outlast#the murkoff account
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i would love to see an interaction between miles & pre-engine rick; he’d probably curse rick a lot and overuse those “business school douchebag” names lmaoo
Hahaha I wish I could come up with sentences other than copy-pasting his notes. I feel like he would hate him so much, that he becomes creative with name-calling Trager. They sound like two opposite people and would absolutely not get along in any way unless there's a third person, and that third person is not Blaire or Waylon
Anyways, sorry the doodle took so long. I added Paul since I think Miles and him would be happy to roast this mf
#richard trager#miles upshur#paul marion#outlast#murkoff account#soopkreem art#insta reqs#replies#anon
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how Richard Trager uses Instagram (yes, he would use Instagram):
this is Pre-Engine Rick because realistically post-engine Rick would have other things to worry about besides instagram
30 stories a day, from dawn till dawn again this man is addicted to the layout
doesn't use stickers because hes a grown man BUT HE DOES HAVE A BITMOJI THAT HE USES RELIGIOUSLY
its half office reels, half food pics, and a quarter just rants
overuses tags to hell, even randomly mid sentence , example: "#Amazing day today at @MurkoffOfficial ! this #Work ain't doin itself 📋💻👍🏻 #Workday #Monday #Officeday #ADayInMyLife #Job"
sometimes thinks that Murkoff should totally have a social media account, he knows its dumb but he cant help wanting more followers 😔
"Suns out guns out! #Sunday with my bud @JeremyBlaireOfficial" and its a picture of them in a golf cart holding champagne (not gay, just besties)
Not to sneak in my RickJer agenda but in my minds eye they signed eachothers golf clubs
tags the location if he could he would
username is something obnoxious like 'RichardTragerOfficial' like nobody know u lil bro 😭😭😭
buys likes and followers to feed his ego
4k followers thats like 85% bots
" @McDonaldsOffical Never fails 😂😂😂 #hangovermeal #NoRegrets" and its a fish fillet with the most inhuman bite you've ever seen taken out of it
WOULD POST A SWEATY GYM MAT AND TAG THE GYM AND IT'D HAVE A DUMB CAPTION LIKE "Workout Wednesdays! 🏋🏼♂️💪#Wednesday #Gym #Exercise #GymPic #Muscles" HE LACKS SELF AWARENESS DONT LAUGH
would 'ironically' comment "Hot! 🔥🔥🔥" on a mans gym pic and would slutshame a womans gym butt pic
"he hurts every woman hes ever met because his true soulmate is a man" - Sock-rates
he would unironically use hashtags in a sentence for fun, also urges Jer to be more active on Instagram
imagine the most white grown man, now add curly blonde hair, uhuh now give him a gay sweater, now make him homophobic & gay, yep .thats him officer
HAS gotten scammed on instagram, he threathened legal action and got his money back and deleted their account after a week tho
weekday streaks exist to him, no hes not a middle schooler hes actually 30
look at me in the eyes and tell me he wouldn't make fun of feminism in the comments section of those LibzDunked accounts
his Close Friends stories are just aftermaths after nights out, its either him drunk posting or filming himself talking to the camera about his hangover
its just Jer and a few other friends but it has the same intimacy of homosexuality
theres one video where hes drunk and actually tripped and fell so comically its been 7 months and Jer still makes fun of him for it (laughs along but actually hates it like viscerally)
he has 3 phones, both iphones and one is a samsung flip (he wanted the hype), a work phone, home phone, and his normal phone, why does he need so much? why is he not robbed yet? we will never know....
replies to those awareness posts about war in the middle east and goes like "damn.. thats unfortunate 💔 hearts goes out to them 🙏 @Chriswalker89"
most menacing instagram white man, cyberbullies as a past time and has 5 alts just focused on Harrassment+ Stalking people
he'd doxx which hospital your mother is staying in with no shame
"If you don't take that back I'm injecting your mothers spine with brain eating parasites" and he means that for real
would post corny atheist memes & misinformation
induces paranoia as a hobby "Yes ma'am i am a licensed doctor vaccines Do cause autism" as a treat
he fucks around too much one day his main gets suspended and he calls Instagram customer services
if you wouldn't think he'd try to hook up with an instagram influencer you are a liar
weekly self-help book recommendations that he doesn't read and actually just gets payed 7$ per link
im not saying he would make an alt to just hype up his own photos but he would.....do that.....
also gets blackmailed his own dick pic but whatever that was in the past
on a side note Jeremy does have a year old instagram account that only has 2 pictures (both just bar pics of him posing with a glass of wine like an idiot) and his entire Tagged section is just RICHARD TAGGING HIM IN ANYTHING
#richard trager#outlast#outlast fandom#outlast whistleblower#jeremy blaire#they are homophobic and gay#the straightest gay people
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i have this headcanon i think about everytime i curl my hair, that pre-engine trager had 0 idea how to take of his curly(ish?) hair and im convinced it would look so good if it was properly hydrated for fucking once. just a leave in conditioner or something come on please Rick it’s dryer than your sex life.
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Office Party - Rick and Jer - Young & Vulnerable
It was the annual office party at Murkoff Corporation, and as usual, the higher-ups had spared no expense in organizing a night to remember. The alcohol was flowing freely, the music was pumping, and the atmosphere was electric. But this year, there was a surprise in store for the employees – the higher-ups had hired a group of stripper girls to entertain the crowd.
Rick and Jer, two young and ambitious employees, were among the first to hit the open bar. They had already had a few drinks and smoked a joint in the parking lot before heading inside. As the night progressed, they quickly became the life of the party, joking around and laughing loudly, their inhibitions lowered by the drugs and alcohol.
Rick, in particular, was feeling especially bold and confident. He strutted around the room, his purple button-down shirt half open, revealing his toned chest. He made sure to make eye contact with all the pretty girls in the room, flashing them his signature cocky grin.
When one of the stripper girls caught Rick's eye, he wasted no time in making his move. He sauntered over to her, his swagger on full display. The girl, a gorgeous blonde with curves in all the right places, smiled seductively at him.
As the girl danced around him, Rick couldn't help but feel himself getting turned on. The mixture of alcohol, drugs, and the stripper's sensual movements were too much for him to handle. The girl noticed his arousal and leaned in close, whispering dirty things in his ear that made his heart race.
She ran her hands through his curly, chaotic hair, sending shivers down his spine. Rick was in a state of bliss, reveling in the attention and the intoxicating mix of lust and desire that surrounded him.
Jer, who had been watching the scene unfold, couldn't help but laugh at his friend's antics. "Looks like someone's having a good time," he joked, elbowing Rick in the ribs.
Rick shot him a smug grin. "Just enjoying the perks of being a young, successful bachelor," he replied, his voice oozing arrogance. "Unlike some people I know."
Jer rolled his eyes, used to Rick's bravado. "Yeah, yeah, keep living in your fantasy world, man. But just remember, what goes up must come down."
The two friends continued to banter back and forth, their words slurred and their laughter loud. As the night wore on, Rick's confidence only grew, fueled by the attention of the stripper girl and the admiring glances of his colleagues.
But as the party began to wind down, Rick's bravado started to fade. The effects of the alcohol and drugs were wearing off, leaving him feeling empty and hollow. The stripper girl had long moved on to other guests, leaving him alone in a sea of faces.
Jer, seeing his friend's deflated demeanor, reached out a hand to him. "Come on, man, let's get you home," he said, his voice filled with concern.
Rick nodded, his earlier arrogance replaced by vulnerability. As they stumbled out of the party and into the cold night air, he leaned on Jer for support, grateful for the steadying presence of a true friend in a world of facades and false promises.
And as they made their way home, the sound of laughter and music fading into the distance, Rick couldn't help but wonder if the fleeting high of the party was worth the emptiness that followed in its wake. Perhaps true fulfillment lay not in the superficial allure of status and success, but in the quiet moments of connection and understanding that only a genuine friendship could provide.
#rick trager#team rick#pre!engine richard trager#outlast#richard trager#jeremy blaire#rick and jer#murkoff corporation#young boys#outlast fanfiction#outlast fandom#ai generated
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XXX
XXX - What's the most raunchiest thing your muse has ever done?
In his heyday, Rick Trager wouldn't hesitate to share scenes of sexual conquest to any old body he wanted to impress. On a noticeably delirious day, the doctor would brag to his 'patients' that folks just couldn't get enough of his cock. He'd snort out an awful chuckle, and drone on with gross, intimate detail of how he'd pull whatever naive little bird he wanted.
All total horse-shit, of course. Trager kept his sexuality like a dragon's hoard, and would rarely allow himself to become as vulnerable as sharing his jewels with anyone who he couldn't read like a vacation brochure. An exception, however, wriggled her awful way into Richard's sex life before Wernicke's infernal machine could have the chance to fuck him.
When Marley fucking Hobgood arrived at Mount Massive, the buzzards flocked. She was an anomaly. Every doctor, every executive that tried to have their way with her (sexually, scientifically, micro-politically) had received a pushback tenfold, delivered personally by her hand. She was wrathful and cunning, quick-witted and unequivocally resourceful. A root which the doctor executive couldn't help but stumble over.
It began with biting dares. Quippy banter that a romantic only wishes they could recreate--- a villain, and the underdog runt which everyone cheered on. Daily visits proved that banter eventually died out, and once Marley caught on, Rick was the only executive she'd even let walk into the small cell, unscathed. She ate up his competitive, aggravating wit, and took it as a game --- an eventual ticket out of Mount Massive.
In October of 2010, a string of tedious, back to back meetings led Richard into staying late one night. Most employees had gone home, and this wasn't the first time Rick had fallen asleep at his desk. On nights prior, he'd take to the cell blocks, ripping away the privacy of night from any patient in house. Sometimes he would antagonize them, causing an entire block to awake in uproar. Even rarer, the doctor would call an escort to spirit away a rather unremarkable victim. The experiments began soon after Hobgood arrived.
This particular night, however, he wandered to Marley's cell. It was more or less a surprise in the groggy, hollow state Rick had been in, but here he was, nonetheless. The officer of this block wasn't around, and peeping inside, he noticed Marley's steady breathing. Having the keycard to most cell-blocks (thank you, Jeremy), the executive took the liberty of stepping inside, the heavy door clicking shut behind him.
And the world outside was silenced. Richard's mind swirled with vertigo before the quiet breaths of Marley Hobgood awakened his dull, drowned out heart beat. In his white coat's breast pocket, the syringe filled with a black, thick liquid became sickeningly real. A bead of sweat fell from his head into his eye. It stung, as his fingers snaked their way into the breast pocket, and curled around the syringe in familiarity.
The months of challenging grins shared between the two flashed through his mind, and his heart beat faster as he stooped to Marley's side and injected the liquid slowly into her veins. The picture-perfect memory of her charming smile was erased as her eyes opened, centering immediately on Trager. Blood rushing into his ears, his lips meet Marley's. You have been the only solace in this hell, Richard thought, as the infection spread over her skin.
The kiss was not enough to save his conscience from this act, however, and so deeper he pushed. The elixir had stolen strength from Marley, and in her final refusal, she took the syringe from her neck and stuck the motherfucker in the eye. She collapsed as Trager recoiled, ripping the syringe from his eye. He threw it to the side of the room and after a strained groan, "bitch, I l o v e you! Yer just too goddamn fun t'leave alone!" He grabbed her face. With a mutated intrigue of disgust, curiosity, anticipation, he absorbed the phenomenon with his remaining eye as the parasite covered, inexplicably, half of her face. She blearily stared at him with an inkling of betrayal, and reached her hand to his face, "you don't love me."
Trager laughed contritely, "you're the only fuckin thing I love," and pressed himself against her, feeling the untainted softness of her skin against his lips, blood dripping hungrily down onto a smooth canvas from the eye Marley claimed as her own trophy.
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I got a bit too big for my boots with this one definitely not my best work but I’m pretty tired rn so I’m gonna leave it. I couldn’t decide whether to go for how I see pre engine trager in fanarts or do the canon look so I did a bit of both also it turned into a bit of background practice still not the best but I’m better than I was
I might do some more trager in the future depending if y’all are interested
#outlast#outlast fanart#outlast trager#richard trager#outlast 2#outlast 2 fanart#outlast whistleblower
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yoro-fan
제목 없음
bastardpirateboi
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'take your broken heart, make it into art'
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Gone!