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@outlasted-a-blog
out:// Admittedly in order to keep things in... order I’ve moved this blog to a sideblog and connected it to my main account. My main is Reaper from Over.watch and he’s @calavcro ; However Miles has been moved to @outlasted which is going to be a sideblog to Reaper so I can work with him from there. Sorry for all of the absences; I intend to run it better with it closer to me. Thanks for everything y’all did so far for me. ♥
andy.
Andy was always the one to speak bluntly. She felt that if someone went through life walking on eggshells, nothing would really feel like it’s truly living and therefore it would all be lackluster. Then again, Andy didn’t have the ability to understand that social boundary most other people had; the fear of being judged or accepted.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. You have a bitchy friend and me? I’ve got a guy with some scary tech ghost that doesn’t like to call or write to let me know he’s okay. You know, Miles, if you keep paying that you’re different, then you are. What is it? That whole mind over damn matter or something, yeah? Give it a shot sometime. You might feel more normal despite our friend tagging along. Speaking of-”
While the shit they had both gone through certainly heavily affected one of them, she found herself more fascinated than anything. She leaned in, squinting a bit. Did it care that she and the former reporter were friends? Maybe. Honestly, Andrea didn’t really remember what fully happened the day the two of them merged. All she remembered was being told to hide, thinking he was dead, and then leaving only to meet back up with him later carrying along their former problem.
“Hey. You. Uh, I hope you understand me too, or something. But stop giving Miles so much trouble okay? Sometimes he needs to feel like a fucking person still. Got it? Cool. If you’re okay with that, then we’re cool, too. Just don’t try anything like you did back at the shitty asylum.”
The dark haired woman grinned soon after and backed off, soon walking down the hallway with the unfortunate duo in tow. She wouldn’t make him go into the coffee shop with her but like hell was she gonna go pick up anything without company on the way. No, she’d make Miles put some effort in even if it could have been one of his worse days. Andy felt that it might have been the only way to adapt.
“It’s probably not much but you can always crash at my place whenever you need it. Like I said back then, we photographers and reporters need to stick together. No one stops by anyways so it’s a safe place for you… The both of you.”
❛ Girl. You need to ease up against it. I don’t need it getting agitated. Not at my only friend. I’d like you in one piece. I’ve seen enough giblets to last me an eternity. I don’t need to add Andy Giblets to that ever growing list. ❜
Miles easily waves her off after her attempt to speak to his unique plus one. He knows the response ( he will always hear it in his bones ), but he doesn’t want to entertain it. For the love of yourself; shut up for once, you’re helping nothing. Of course, that helps nothing, but it’s worth a try. Along with it comes the unsettling realization he’s almost all but given up on a god existing; instead opting to believe more in the tangible Walrider inside of him ( he’d beg for salvation; but from who would he get it? ).
❛ If you honestly mean it, I will take you up on that offer immediately. It’d be nice to have a solid place to lay my head down again. It also wouldn’t be horrible to pick up writing again. New pen name of course; but if it could assist getting you money in any way, I can do it. Though there are less legal ways to get money, what with a literal abomination living inside of me. ❜
There’s a light shrug, but it’s not entirely a joke. If he was given opportunity to, he could easily get away with such acts. It took a lot of self control in the beginning not to resort to them in the beginning. To find a reason to not emulate everything he’d been through tenfold.
How do you get over that kind of trauma? For Miles, the answer is simple; you don’t.
Still, he follows her, ignoring everything in the back of his mind, participating in the humor that most feel far too morbid. He finds he doesn’t care anymore; nothing phases him anymore. The same could be said of her, which was namely why she was the only one he considered a friend left in this fucked up world.
❛ First things first though. I came to get a coffee with you, to be normal for once. I’m not in danger of our friend today, so long as you don’t provoke it any further. ❜
andy.
@outlasted <3
“Well, well; look what the cat dragged in.”
Andy had answered the door, a little surprised to see the man at her doorstep. It had been how long since she last seen him? She couldn’t honestly recall. They both wanted to leave the asylum in their pasts. Unfortunately, he couldn’t ever do so.
“Miles fucking Upshur. I’d ask to what I owe the pleasure but who wants to waste time on pansy pleasantries?”
The dark haired woman laughed and held up her hand to gesture for Miles to wait a few seconds. All she really needed was her phone, wallet, and keys. Taking a moment to grab what she needed from her apartment, it didn’t take long for Andrea to return to her rather distant friend, closing the door.
“A coffee actually sounds great right about now. I’m not really busy today anyways. You know though, you can show up here more often. I’m fine with you; you do know that, right? Tch, you fucking better.”
❛ Ever the mouth on you. As harsh as I remember. In my defense might I add that days blend when you’re in my predicamanet. I cannot keep track, and I no longer have job nor home. It, as you would so keenly put it, fucking shitty. ❜
Yet a shrug passes him. He’d needed time to get used to the extra thing that had made a home of his body. He needed to learn to circumvent it, to control it to what little possible extent he could. He didn’t need it tearing up everything in ‘self defense’ and getting them both noticed. Besides, some days he could almost feel human again.
The buzzing today was noticeable unfortunately; a good reason to come around and ask for a mundane activity with someone who knew him. The whole one person.
❛ Pretty sure I can imagine the colorful response to a Walrider knocking at your door. I can hardly put myself to blame for isolating that. It’s better, but I’m far from perfect. I’ll keep you in mind. You’re the only friend I have in this state; as sad as that is. ❜
The grin he flashes after makes it clear it’s a joke, but he doubts he has to even indicate it. Someone like her would catch on fast even if he acted serious. One of her finer qualities, really.
person of interest.
❛ ah — a SHAME、that bold statements and cryptic messages will not win you the curiosity of others . . . ❜ gaze flickers from where it had settled — ( lack of intrigue is set aside in favor of chain to reality’s realm ) — views the man whom spoke with caution.
❛ Perhaps that is correct, yet you still seem keen to engage rather than leave. Would that not speak worlds in and within itself? Actions speak far louder than words; and my most intimate companion is of the mute variety. Marks a lesson I truly know well. ❜
blake.
Swift and loud inhale through nose, frame leaning back while fingers tapped anxiously on arm. Something about they way the man uttered out the ‘ We ’ when speaking about himself was…. Odd. Disconcerning—Terrifying. “ Murkoff? I don’t know. I mean, yes, something’s… Fishy about them. Lynn and I, ” shuffle in place, gaze diverting, “ Heard about the VIDEO from… Mount Massive. It was quickly terminated, taken as a joke. She was sceptical over it. Seemed TOO REAL, y’know? What would they be doing out here? It’s…. It’s INSANE. ”
The cameraman hugged his own frame, bandage wound arms itching. “ I’ll run from this shit hole the SECOND I find Lynn and take her with me. Otherwise I’ll… Fuck, I’ll go crazy? I don’t know. I don’t know, but this place– It RUINS you. ”
❛ Mount Massive was real. Every last atrocity caught on tape was real. Mine never got out. But Park. He really got out. We saw to it; in a way I was listened to. It’s an unnecessary cruelty towards us that Murkoff didn’t end for what they did with Mount Massive. What that place did to me... ❜
He trails off, waving a dismissal hand as the buzzing echoes louder in the back of his mind. No, he shouldn’t focus on it. The Walrider was enough of a problem without focusing his thoughts on it. It would come out and problems would come of it. Not that it hadn’t already, but that was for the hosts safety ( not a comforting thought either; Miles didn’t matter; only his body did ).
❛ Listen, I’m more aware than anyone else on what this shit can and will do. I don’t like the idea of dirtying my hands more than they are, but I suppose what’s more blood on them when they’re already coated. I can give you its assistance; help you find this woman, Lynn as you say, and get you the hell out. Put a focus on evidence. If you want to cut at the ones behind it, if they are, proof like what myself and Park picked up at Mount Massive is needed. ❜
You’re hurt
12x19 | The Future
blake.
“ According to THESE fucks, the only referee to them is some sick GOD. ” Tired, snapped from chapped lips, an incredulous tone, hidden behind shaking frame.
❛ Got a mouth on you, don’t you? You’re not going to get any help from anyone if you treat everyone like this. Shall we try this again? Perhaps you may earn our sympathy and we can help. We’re not on their side. We have reason to believe Murkoff has some of their hands in this mess; believe me I am not a fan after what they infected my very bones with. I’ll never escape it, but perhaps you might. ❜
out:// Me: brings back Miles expecting him to just be a monumental shitlord. Miles: Makes a best friend right off the bat. Me: ... what even are you Miles Upshur.
emily.
Emily can’t help a smile after he flashes his. What he said was true. Living beyond a death had to be gruesome, both physically and mentally. Shit, surviving a near-death experience more than once was enough to mess with her. She didn’t want to imagine literally living after dying felt like. Most unpleasant.
His hand is met with her’s. Calloused and strong, but smooth (thanks to lotion). Her knuckles are bruised and scarred beyond comprehension; their color long lost beneath the mess. Though her nails seem manicured enough, the entirety of her hand seemed war torn. A small cosmetic among blemishes. She grips his hand with a firm, respectable shake and smiles some more. His name is taken to memory - Miles Upshur - as well as his features.
“ Emily Brass. Former boxer. I don’t have much of a title outside of ‘ fighter ‘ and ‘ fucked up ‘, sorry. “ Her tone is playful as she introduces herself in turn.
❛ Survivor is a title it sounds like you can wear with some pride. Sounds as if it’s one we both will share. Along with ‘fucked up’. That’s one I feel in my veins. You know, along with the nanite ghost thinking it’s a good idea to possess somewhat innocent journalists. There’s only mild blood on my hands; only where situation deemed it necessary. Though I really think that asylum should have just been burned down. ❜
There’s a laugh that makes it’s way from him, as he shakes his head. He gives their clasped hands a single shake, before he lets go. He doesn’t need to let anyone pay the missing digits too much mind; he tries not to himself ( it’s a bit disorienting to think he’s missing both an index and a ring finger; worse still to know they’re on the floor back in Mount Massive; disgusting ).
❛ It’s nice to finally meet someone who has a semblance of understanding. Fuck the world and everything it’s done and forced us to be. Shit just isn’t fucking fair. The only upside for me is the fact I can strike back and never have to worry again. At the cost of humanity, but all the same perhaps for some of what it gives me I needn’t complain too much. Doesn’t mean I won’t; if I suffered, I can be vocal about it all I like. It’s an earned right, after all. ❜
emily.
This puts her at a pause. She’s quiet longer than a moment while she thinks. Everyone was different, she’s known this. Emily had a quiet life. A happy, promising life with a future that only held potential. Of course she’d want to go back to that. She’d give anything to go back to being the person she knew she was. She’d sacrifice so much in order to be who she remembers being again. But where would that put her? Would it change anything? Would she just end up worse off anyway? There was too much to gamble on. She’s already survived her hail of Hell. She’s proven her will to live. She’s not about to undo all of her work, all of her survival, just for a shot at a better life.
Emily does, however, understand what he is saying. He’s been through a Hell she will never know (and never wants to know). What he was going through, what he was becoming, was certainly worse than she’d understand. But that didn’t cancel out her experience. Her monstrosity-in-the-making. Everyone was different.
“ I choose damnation because I’ve gone through too much just to go back. I survived. I did not fight just so I can un - do all of my hard work. Fuck that. “
She has a good point. Slowly does he nod after listening. She’s right, of course. It would make it all worthless to go back to a normal life. To be a regular man again. But his suffering was one he’d rather have seen an end to. Death would have released it all; made it better. As it stands, he’s a thing crafted of the finest nightmares of mad men. Insanity plagues the edges of his mind, and it’s only a matter of time before he comes undone ( he hopes it never comes to that point; that he is strong enough to evade that end ).
❛ A fair choice, listening to how you speak of what you have been through. There are a few ways to look at suffering. I believe yours is proper, and I wish mine had me thinking the same way. Unfortunately unlike most people; living past your expiration is not something I think I should be too proud to stand with. ❜
It’s then that he shoots her a grin, extending a hand that is missing its index finger. A permanent reminder of a long dead insane man that took that from him. His scars were far from only mental; reminders he despised but lived with.
❛ Name’s Miles Upshur. Ex-Investigative Journalist. Full-time host for a bunch of nanites with a rather unique personality. Pleasure to make your acquaintance. ❜
( other ) miles.
“What a cryptic and depressing statement, edgelord.Did someone piss in your cheerios this morning?”
❛ And here I thought you of all people would understand. Makes me wonder why I try. At least give seeing the world through my eyes the good old college try. And here I thought you liked me. Guess I was mislead. ❜
@electiveamnesia ( you’re giving me andy for this. )
❛ Hey, look. I get that you’re probably busy, but I’m lacking in human activity. I’d like to forget what I am and be normal for once. Let’s go out for a coffee. ❜
emily.
“ You’re right, but if I’m being honest? I’d rather be damned than damsel’d. “
Emily accepted her fate long before she knew what it would’ve made her into. There was no fighting it. In order for her to beat what was beating her, she had to get consumed. She had to burst out of the belly and take over herself. The damned can’t be saved, but they can find a way to damn others in turn.
❛ You would take damnation above all else? I would kill again and again for the chance to be normal again. I can hear it in my bones; it’s a static, an incessant buzzing. Inhuman at my base; I should be dead. I think I’d rather that to this. ❜
Then again, not many become some form of nanite-based monster. Not many get thrown into insanity, then literally thrown around, possessed, and shot. What a damn mess he was; he’d fought to save himself, to get out, and now? All he got was the privilege of being a monster. Not what he considers a good time, to say the least of it.
Burn everything around you.
Burn them.
Burn it all down and leave nothing left in your wake.
Do it before it hurts you.
