Rick "The Triggered" Trager

+18 Outlast blog/ask/shitpost...thingy for our dear dream doctor May contain NSFW, gore, and overall freak shit. Here's a martini for your troubles.

[crooked-incisions]

" I can't find any information where the proceeds are going to for this event. I was told to ask you, he said you were good with 'questionnaires'. "

God damnit, Jer. A man can’t schmooze some booze in peace?

“Woah, heh, dig the threads there, buddy,” Rick started. ‘Business casual’ must’ve meant something a whole lot different to these Hollywood schmucks.

Swiftly, he put down his drink to grasp the man’s hand before him. Firm, but not needy.

“Richard Trager—head of R&D at Murkoff—pleasure’s all mine, I’m sure. See, what we’re doing here is some game changing stuff in the field of mental health, let me tell you.”

[crooked-incisions]

Tag dump!

[crooked-incisions]

OK. Let's get this outta the way. Name change.

murder-and-martinis ----> crooked-incisions

Now. Hello, hi. It's been... so, so long. I wanted to address some things here with this post.

Soooooooooooooooo... why have I decided to come back after all this time? I dunno. Doing this was fun. Y'all were funny, I'd like to think I was funny too. I really ran myself into the ground thinking I needed this blog to be more than it was and ehhh I lost sight of the game, y'know? This fandom is such a joy to be around so, especially with the Trials breathing new life into it. It'd be nice to interact with it again.

Will I do full on RPing? Dunno. Probably only with close friends, or if something really juicy strikes my fancy. I really just want this to be a fun little thing to do again, so I'm not gonna push it.

Will I be deleting old posts? Against my better judgement; I won't. Mostly because it's a pain in the ass to do so, ngl lol. That and it feels like a fucked up little time capsule, I'd feel too bad to get rid of it all. That said, starting this blog from here on with a clean slate. New tags, new HCs, da works.

Anyways, it's good to be home, buddy. Hope to see ya soon. (:

[crooked-incisions]

I'm back, bitches.

[crooked-incisions]

RIP in peace blog. ✌️

// Yeah tbh LOL

Not gonna lie, I’ve been avoiding the blog like the plague for a long while now. Figured I could dip out without notice until I got my groove back. While it’s not much of an excuse to just leave, I’ve got no inspiration to write responses and I wouldn’t feel right to not provide something of substance to every ask I do. I feel like just doing dialogue responses aren’t enough. Easiest way to put it is; I’d rather have quality over quantity.

Would I like to bring back the blog? Yeah, I’d like to. I still love Trager and Outlast as a whole, but until then I suppose the blog’s on hiatus. I do apologize for the asks I haven’t gotten to, but yanno.

[crooked-incisions]

What kind of non vanilla shit do you do

“Well I cant just... say it, heh. That’d be real embarrassin’. I will say; most of these patients don’t need to be strapped down as heavily as they are...”

[crooked-incisions]

Doc, we gotta have some tea and crumpets sometime

He raised both of his hands. “Mm, how quaint! Let’s make ah jolly ol’ whoopee out of it!”

Rick was having much more fun than he should’ve while trying to impersonate the stereotypical British accent.

[crooked-incisions]

Doctor. Ricky. Buddy... cum smash dis ass plz

“Oh I’d do much more than just that. No need to stay vanilla.”

[crooked-incisions]

“Aw, Ricky, if it makes ya feel any better ‘ah got shotgun pellets lodged in my gut! ‘N I happen ta think her handsome, cellophane for skin ‘n all.”

As cringy as it was, Trager flashed the good ol’ finger guns at her.

“Glad to know I’ve still got the charm. Some people can be really damn cruel,” Rick pouted. “Do yanno what screamin’ at the sight of someone’s face does to their self esteem?! I’m startin’ to think even I need a doctor...”

[crooked-incisions]

What did happen to your left cheek and lips actually?

“Ohh.. ahh, long story,” he said, not sounding all too convinced about the story’s actual length.

“Think of a massive riot—almost as big as our current one!—people screamin’, punches n’ kicks, teeth n’ blood are thrown everywhere, might as well be rainin’ cats n’ dogs, buddy!!! Now, I didn’t wanna get involved but...... oh who am I kiddin’—of course I had to get in on that action! Ran into a bunch’ah hulky guys n’ took them on all by myself. Hoo, buddy, lemme tell ya. It wasn’t pretty, they left me badly wounded... But ya should really feel sorry for the other guys, heh.”

The supposed riot was, in actuality, not a riot at all. It was more of a petty brawl between a handful of variants over boundaries. A brawl, which in fact, was incited by Rick himself.

No, they were not a bunch of hulky guys, they just had the numbers and actual weapons. Rick simply bit off more than he could chew, a habit with a streak of over 20 years now, and went in alone.

No, they did not walk off worse for wear. A few cuts and harsh bruises sure, but they got the last laugh as they ran off before the guards could contain them. Leaving behind Rick; a fuming, writhing wreck on the floor, clutching the bloody mess of what remained of his lips and cheek in one hand and punching the floor in a rage until the knuckles torn open on the other.

For the sake of his pride however, that was a truth he didn’t choose to swallow.

[crooked-incisions]

What if a variant freaked and ripped out your other cheek?

“Hell hath no fury like my scorn, if that happened.”

[wes-withers]

He didn’t recognize Rick, “What if I gave you a Band-Aid?”

[crooked-incisions]

“Then I’d hafta call you a lil’ smartass,” he hissed, squinting back at him.

[crooked-incisions]

What if a variant freaked and ripped out your other cheek?

“Hell hath no fury like my scorn, if that happened.”

[crooked-incisions]

Not MURDER fun, nsfw fun!

“... bold of ya to assume I wasn’t includin’ that in the “fun” already.”

[crooked-incisions]

“Doctor” Trager, do you have anyone you like to uh, have “fun” with?

“I take offense to those air quotes, buddy. I worked hard for my degree. But uhhhh... yes! I have fun with Mr. Langin all the time! He tends to disagree but, aha... he has no authority here to change that.”

[crooked-incisions]

Aren't you afraid of potentially encountering Murkoff's mercenaries or perhaps even the Walrider that seems to be haunting the asylum, though? It seems like it's becoming an increasingly dangerous place to... set up your, uh, "business" in.

“Yeah uhh... ‘cause Murkoff’s been sO competent up ‘til now. Let their fuckin’ tactical come in,” he challenged, humming a laugh as if though he’d already won. “Let’s see how far they’ll get. And ah, as... fer the Walrider?”

On the occasion he would get Casper as an unexpected visitor. They never sought each other out. It seemed the only time they’d meet was when it was chasing after one of Trager’s patients. Well, they would’ve been his patient, at least. Billy, the Walrider—or whoever was truly in charge now—held no punches... and always left behind a damn mess.

Such visceral rage. That raw emotion still resonated with Rick in ways that he couldn’t even begin to describe. In an odd way, Billy, or perhaps the Walrider itself, understood that. They’d share a passing glance, then after causing an impromptu nosebleed from the doc, as quickly as it came it would vanish between the blood soaked floorboards.

Sometimes, Rick had to wonder if the kid was really that in tune with him or... if a part of himself had been stripped away that day, and he was only looking at the shell of what was once Richard Trager, in the form of the Swarm. In any case—

“—I’m not concerned.”

[crooked-incisions]

Hey, Doc! Have you ever considered escaping the asylum? Or are you content with your current... position? Where do you see yourself in the future?

“And squander this untapped oil well of potential I’ve got goin’ here?!” He squawked, as if it wasn’t even a question in his mind to just... leave.

Even if he did, there wasn’t anything for Rick to go back home to anyways.

“Nah, nah... I’m ridin’ this crazy train out ‘til the end. Ya don’t get whatcha want by runnin’ from it. That’s what none of these spineless bitches seem to understand...”

[crooked-incisions]

Diiiiiiiiiicky~

“I should just never expect ya to be polite, should I?”

[joanna-g-clarke]

“Did’ja ever’a expect me ta be polite?”

[crooked-incisions]

“Did, actually. Makes me not even want to try n’ have faith in humanity anymore...” Rick pouted, as if he had any iota of faith from the start.