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@outshur
MAYBE IT WAS A GLITCH IN THE CAMERA [ miles upshur of the outlast franchise by dru. private. selective. iconless. mutuals only. 21+ only. carrd. multi. meme tag. potential plots/wishlist. ] ... OR MAYBE THIS PLACE IS GETTING TO ME.
potentially triggering content (specific content warnings below the cut)
adam scott in hokum was such a perfect mix of cunty, pathetic, and 'kind of maybe actually a good person or at least trying to be' that the miles vibes he was giving bid me return here.
PRE-ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP MEME 0.2
over a year ago, i made this meme & since then, it’s blown up. so, over a year later — i thought i would make a new one. so here it is, after several requests & a pile of brains, THE PRE-ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP MEME 0.2 send me a ✿ and i’ll fill out the template below. bold for things i could definitely see or want, italics for things i could see or am unsure of and striked out for things i don’t want or cannot see.
FRIENDSHIP. childhood friends / work buddies or coworkers / family friends / friends with benefits / smoking buddies / adventure buddies / fake friends / recently friends / party buddies / friendship of need / dying friendship / circumstantial friendship / partners in crime / old friendship / [ your muse ] is the good influence / [ your muse ] is the bad influence / [ my muse ] is the good influence / [ my muse ] is the bad influence / opposites attract / ride or die / frenemies / roommates or flatmates / penpals / exes to friends / enemies to friends / other
ROMANCE. childhood sweethearts / [ your muse is mines ] childhood crush / [ my muse is yours ] childhood crush / exes / exes to lovers / forbidden lovers / highschool sweethearts / secret relationship / opposites attract / long distance / unrequited [ from your muses side ] / unrequited [ from my muses side ] / unrequited [ from both sides ] / skinny love / friends to lovers / enemies to lovers / spurious relationship / power couple / newly entered / soulmates [ metaphorical ] / soulmates [ literal ] / awkward / turning toxic / toxic love / cheating [ on your muse ] / cheating [ with your muse ] / other
FAMILIAL. siblings [ half ] / siblings [ step ] / [ my muse ] is an older sibling figure to your younger sibling figure / [ my muse ] is a younger sibling figure to your older sibling figure muse / [ my muse ] is a parental figure to yours / [ my muse ] is a child figure to your muse / guardian figure / legal guardian / adoptive child / foster child / [ your muse ] is taken under mines wing / [ my muse ] is taken under yours wing / other
ANTAGONISTIC. dangerous to each other / dangerous to others / unpredictable / rivals / petty / developing into sexual or romantic tension / based off family matters / based of off circumstance / based of professional matters / based off misunderstanding or lies / conflict of ideology / betrayal / hero - villain dynamic / enemies / fight club / friends turned enemies / lovers turned enemies / exes turned enemies / other
Matching your freak is beautiful and all but what you really need is a boy who's infatuated with your freak. Down bad for your freak. Deeply intrigued by your freak. Eager to see more of your freak. Supportive of your freak. Gets bricked up witnessing your freak, even.
leon whistles, low and casual as though impressed at what's been spit his way. fiesty. the ease with which he takes berating though is against the familiar stirring of adrenaline in his chest — feels like every goddamn time he's run into something grotesque, a thought in him more instinct than premeditation. something to fight. set right. put him down. but he recognizes this one, and this one talks. jowls still intact, dripping venom rather than blood and cartilage from his teeth, and — he recognizes miles. hates his fucking job. which, ❝ yeah, you got me. plenty cushy. spend a lot of time on my ass. ❞ in the mud, the muck, the viscera. but they're things he can't talk about. what kept him distant after the start of it all, what settled in him long before what lead to the dissolution of them in his apartment, ❝ couldn't be luckier. ❞ and he offers it with with a quirk of his lips, but it's so dry.
drier than his bleeding heart, deceiving. all he's got for miles - hell, anyone he cares about - these days. leon's hands retreat into his pockets, backs of his fingers beneath the known weight of his firearm. he wills a god he hasn't prayed to since that night he won't have to use it. not here, not now. asking forever is too much, ❝ wetwork. ❞ leon replies simply on an exhale. he could leave it there. walk away, keep digging anywhere that isn't here. his feet are stuck, heavy, unwilling, but his mind and heart can't agree which principles he's standing on this time.
carrying on with a levity he does not feel, the crush of his heart, the mass of miles has never felt quite so much a burden, ❝ thought i was going on a vacation, they give me those sometimes. but you know? shit came up, fresh leads on a case. ❞ miles is a smart guy. always has been. coveted his brain more than anything else. he doesn't need it spelled out for him, though leon leads anyway — he wants him to say anything that'll tell him it isn't true. that he doesn't have a thing to do with it, that it has nothing to do with him looking like shit, ❝ and i figure, journalist you are, you might have already started my job for me. hoping luck strikes me twice, save me the work. ❞
⤷ @outshur , from here.
wetwork, leon says, and miles' answering grin is a splintered thing, an edge for leon to cut himself on. he doesn't deny the government part of his job, which is both interesting and concerning. how high do murkoff's connections really go? does this mean miles has them running scared, if they're sending government agents -- because that has to be what leon is: fbi, cia, the acronym doesn't matter to him, all black-baggers are the same -- after him now?
and why leon? that's the most disturbing question, the one that has the familiar paranoia creeping up miles' spine and coiling rancid in his rotten gut, that has the walrider sensing the distress in their shared nervous system (and the buzzing in the air around him grows louder). is this just miles' bad fucking luck? or do they know about leon, about their shared history -- are they (murkoff, the government, whatever organization is trying to put the walrider back in the lab today) trying to exploit a potential soft spot of miles' by sending leon to do the honors?
it won't work. miles could let leon put the gun he's oh-so-subtly fingering to his forehead and pull the trigger; it takes more than bullets to put down a waking nightmare. but what then?
"did you know i was here?" or is the surprise genuine? miles used to be a lot better at telling when leon was lying. then again, he hasn't been a journalist for a little while now. "you don't look scared." by miles' inhumanity: the change in his eyes, the static rasp of his voice. the black smoke that sloughs off him in tendrils. the faint buzz of the walrider's song. they call it the gospel of sand. "did they send you to kill me, baby?" the pet name slips out, sentimental mistake or deliberate cruelty. salt in the wound; the air crackles with static and something worse. close as they are, isolated as they are, miles could reach out with his power, pull leon apart into atoms without so much as a twitch. he doesn't want to. god, he doesn't want to. say no. please say no.
closed. @outshur
"you know it's getting kind of pathetic seeing you dance around the guy now." danny speaks out of nowhere, if miles isn't paying attention it could almost be a disembodied voice, it's his voice, once he slides the mask off, this isn't the ghost face, it's danny all close and personal. the voice does not echo but it travels in the woods. danny's been keeping a closer eye on the two ever since they started playing best friends, he'd seen them out here, talking like it's a fucking sleepover before the fog decided to take waylon and leave miles here. what a nice little gesture. just for danny. "it was mildly amusing at first but it's getting old." he keeps to himself how that was the catalyst for danny to get to work, find a way to get in the middle of this, and found he did. and so far it's working. they're all here to entertain him after all, to keep him busy.
he walks out of the shadows enveloping the eternal woods, leans back against a tree. it's almost like when he has miles in his bed and his hand trails off, sticking a finger in his wounds just to see what the reaction is like. and the thing is that danny can play miles, he's learned to, over time. the sound of his screams, the warmth of his blood, he keeps his attention long enough to want to do this entire thing. danny tilts his head, a smile. knowing. waiting. baiting. pressing all the buttons. "-i gotta ask, what's the hold up, miles?" acts confused, he knows. and miles knows. taunting. danny isn't one for skinning people, far too much work and not quick enough. but boy does he love getting underneath miles's skin.
“are you serious?” miles laughs. danny hates being mocked. incidentally, that’s a skill area where miles shines, and not even the possibility he’ll be left to bleed out on the forest floor (again) is going to stop him. especially when he needs to change the subject, now, because the last thing waylon needs is danny getting his oily fucking claws into him. miles knows firsthand how dangerous danny’s attention can be.
but waylon’s different. he went through the asylum, but he came out alive. came out human on the other side of it all. he isn’t broken the way miles is, isn’t ruined. miles thought he didn’t believe in deserve as a concept, not after mount massive, but waylon genuinely doesn’t deserve what’s happening to him.
he storms up to danny. look at me, look at me, stop thinking about waylon. are monsters capable of getting jealous? is that what this is?
“what is this, the real housewives of new jersey? you wanna hear about my boy problems?” he shakes his head, incredulous. “jesus, danny. i didn’t realize you were that kind of fa ggot.”
and if miles wasn’t so concerned about waylon’s safety he’d find it funny, the idea that anyone likes him enough to feel jealous. “and if you mean waylon, he’s married. and straight.” two things that had never stopped miles before, strictly speaking, but it’s not like danny needs to know that. besides, the fog isn’t exactly the ideal place for meeting people, for a million reasons. (a million and one, now.)
he searches in his pockets, comes up with an empty pack of cigarettes. the nicotine withdrawal could be the reason his hands shake: that, and nothing else.
injury/hurt prompts bc reasons
feel free to specify who is receiving the actions [ sew ] for one muse to have to stitch up the other [ fix ] for one muse to mend a dislocated joint [ alone ] for one muse to find the other trying to treat themselves [ drugged ] for one muse to take care of the other while they’re delirious [ bullet ] for one muse to help the other after they get shot [ lacerate ] for one muse to get stabbed while protecting/working with the other [ broken ] for one muse to have broken a bone(s) [ scream ] for one muse to wake up because the other is having a nightmare [ comfort ] for one muse to stay the night with the other after a hard day [ wake ] for one muse to wake up to the other at the side of their hospital bed [ sleep ] for one muse to sit by while the other is unconscious in a hospital [ nurse ] for one muse to take care of the other while they’re sick [ appear ] for one muse to show up at the other’s doorstep injured
“ just let me help you. ” “ shut the fuck up and sit down. you’re bleeding. ” “ it’s fine— nothing i haven’t dealt with before. ” “ hey, you can talk to me. ” “ shh- lie back. you’re safe now. ” “ you need to stay still. ” “ how the hell did this happen? ” “ are you sure you’re okay? ” “ that isn’t ‘just a scratch’. ” “ stop being such a baby and let me finish cleaning you up. ” “ i need you to stay awake for me okay? keep your eyes open. ” “ if you die on me i’ll bring you back to life and kill you myself. ” “ for once in your goddamn life, let me take care of you before you make it worse. ” “ you’re hurt because of me. the least i can do is fix it. ” “ i’ll be okay. i promise. ” “ a little help? ” “ i just need a few stitches and i can’t exactly reach. ” “ i’m fine, i just need a moment. ” “ no hospitals. ” “ you need a fucking doctor. ” “ you need to slow down. ” “ you’ll be no help to anyone if you run yourself into the ground. ” “ you have to sleep eventually. ” “ stop fussing, i’ll be fine. ” “ shit, okay fuck that actually really fucking hurts. ” “ i’m scared. ” “ i feel so cold. ” “ i can’t feel my legs. ” “ i don’t…i don’t wanna go yet. ” “ what the fuck happened to you? ” “ who the fuck did this? ” “ you’re clearly not okay so stop bullshitting me. ” “ fucking hell. ” “ i need help. please. ” “ i swear to god i’ll kill whatever bastard did this. ” “ if i die, i’m gonna haunt your ass. ” “ it’s not that bad, chill the fuck out. ”
¹ .ㅤ‘ via the system of touch ’ . the following is a compilation of action based prompts , originally created by me . warnings applied for : some potential nsfw / suggestive themes . ( additionally : send ‘ + ’ to reverse the roles , and have the receiver be the one to perform the action ) . do not add anything on to these memes .
hands. for your muse to take a hold of my muse’s hand.
tie. for your muse to adjust an article of clothing on my muse.
combat. for our muses to train together in combat.
pin. for your muse to pin mine to ( the ground / the wall / a surface ).
push. for your muse to push mine in a playful manner.
shove. for your muse to shove mine in an aggressive manner.
tend. for your muse to help tend to my muse’s injuries.
trace. for your muse to trace their hand along my muse’s ( skin / scars ).
gag. for your muse to place their hand over my muse’s mouth, to try to keep them quiet.
kiss. for your muse to kiss my muse.
hair. for your muse to brush my muse’s hair from their face.
pull. for your muse to pull my muse close to them.
sit. for your muse to encourage mine to sit and rest.
lap. for your muse to pull my muse onto their lap.
tackle. for your muse to tackle my muse to the ground.
fight. for your muse to physically attack my muse ( by hitting / punching / kicking / etc).
neck. for your muse to place their hand around my muse’s neck.
throat. for your muse to hold something against my muse’s throat.
collapse. for your muse to catch mine, preventing them from falling to the ground.
carry. for your muse to insist on carrying my muse when injured.
warmth. for our muses to seek warmth from each other, after being caught in a ( snow storm / rain shower ).
morning after. for our muses to wake up together the next morning, after having a one night stand.
wake. for your muse to wake mine up by kissing their ( shoulder / neck / lips / etc ).
dance. for your muse to force my muse to dance with them.
drink. for our muses to spend time together whilst drunk.
swim. for our muses to go for a late night swim.
intimacy. for our muses to embrace each other after sex.
death. for your muse to comfort mine after they have lost a loved one.
goodbye. for your muse to hold mine as they lay dying in their arms.
can't save the world by killing it. — an independent portayal of leon s. kennedy from capcom's resident evil franchise by sara.
@outshur said: "don't move ... a fucking muscle ."
it's to rick's credit that he does what miles asks. he stops in his tracks, head tilting to the side as he looks the reporter up and down. the problem with this guy is that that fucker father martin got his hands on him first — he'd corrupted and twisted him, soured him before trager could get ahold of him. really fucked up shit, if you were to ask him.
and oh, how he would like to cut him open — he'd like to see what he looks like under the skin, beneath his ribcage and deep in his marrow. the thought is enough to have a crooked grin pulling at those tainted features. the silence is oddly heavy, punctuated only by both of their breathing — miles, angry and ready to run, and richard, full of hungry anticipation.
“ what do you call this little game of yours, buddy? ” he laughs. “ i don't remember this being how you play hide and seek. ”
the metal pipe is slippery in miles' shaking hands, palms heavy with sweat and fresh blood. he manages not to drop it, though. holding it like a baseball bat, like if he gets close enough he can catch trager off guard, bash his fucking brains in. (it's a little disturbing, just how much the thought thrills him.)
he's panting, heavy through his mouth like an animal. the adrenaline has dulled the pain in his hands somewhat. funny, what the human body can do to itself to survive. "new game," miles says, voice scream-roughened. "this one's called, if you come any closer i will fucking kill you."
it's a weak threat, the way miles feels like his legs are this close to collapsing under him, but he wills himself to keep standing. not to take his eyes off trager, barely even blinking. "and i'm not your fucking buddy."
one of the things about pre-canon miles that i love to explore is him being an inherently good-hearted person with a strong sense of justice. that is also an absolute cunt and a bitch. he is not a nice person but he will do the right thing.
and i think post mt massive he is also someone who's experienced trauma that he does not want to process or comprehend. but he is acting out and re-enacting that trauma on other people (arguably mostly people who deserve it, like the murkoff employees he has a vendetta against, but still). guy who goes through the gauntlet of being completely powerless while he is tortured and brutalized. and then he walks out of that experience legally dead, with no real ties to his former life or the person he was before, and also now he has eldritch powers. that is so interesting to me!! guy who is slowly becoming creature but there is also something so human about the way he is clinging to his anger and his hurt!!
some dead journalist at your doorstep
um
new carrd just dropped! (basically the same as what i had on my pinned but it's all in one place now and hopefully a little easier to read.)
tiny little announcement that i made a ressie multi @reseviled if that interests anyone... it is a sideblog to my main multi just fyi
[ HIPS ]: sender pulls receiver in closer by the hips.
so this isn't the most romantic place. the woods are endless, the nature in them twisted and empty. the night eternal, the world just miserable in the darkness. waylon would have never thought this would be the backdrop for what he is experiencing now.
they are far away from the camp, they take these walks. and waylon feels almost relieved that there is someone like miles to settle in with, to talk with, about everything about nothing. the closest he feels to normal. then.
then.
miles manages to throw a curve ball, the tension between them slowly building. it always did, waylon feels some type of way.
(it reminds him of love, the ghost of it, it's not only lust it's more so this complicated sensation in his chest, hot and heavy. he hadn't thought too much about miles, the shape of his nose, his hair, before, and now he clouds his thoughts. it isn't suffocating, it's nice and-)
he pulls him closer by the hips and it cuts waylon off, whatever he was thinking about whatever he was going to say he swallows, pupils blown out and his hands instinctively settle on his shoulders, close enough to kiss. he's hip to hip with him, and everytime miles reaches out and touches him, he feels alive. like shit is worth it. "miles." he's says it soft, like a question. what else is miles trying to get away with. (anything, waylon thinks. he could get away with anything.)
he tries his best to distract waylon on their walks. distract them both, from the seemingly inescapable torture chamber. the wind shakes the branches of the trees; out here, nature is foreboding, crooked trees with scraggly branches, scraping the dark of an endless night sky.
that's what it is, at first. an attempt at distraction. (sure, miles has these feelings for waylon, but it's not like he's expecting them to be reciprocated. he's just trying to help. a bit of stress relief. it's the least he can do, for the only person here he considers a friend.)
and then waylon's eyes go wide -- he says miles' name like it makes him breathless, and miles thinks, well, fuck. as that attempt at neat compartmentalization, just helping out a friend, crumbles.
"waylon," he mimics, softly but not with any cruel or mocking intent. his hands stay on waylon's hips, like he's waiting to be told to leave.
he isn't usually the one asking. college hookups or ill-advised flings, miles has always been the one focused on his work. the one who gets approached, not the one who approaches. everything's different, now, flipped inside out in this gothic nightmare. (except, the entity must be slacking because it doesn't feel like a nightmare. not with waylon's wide eyes on his mouth.) "tell me what you want," miles says, like devotion. like a plea.
he is an investigator. has always wanted to be. and he'd thought, maybe, he'd have a journalist with him, too — the same one, no less special for it. hell, some sentimental part of him thinks that's the whole reason why he would've been. thought. would've. the one he had in mind is dead. meant to be. presumed to be. but leon is an investigator and he was dead once too, wasn't he? officially. he can put the facts together. still, his heart beats no easier for it, and it colors his tongue distant, blues struggling to reconcile the man before him with the man from back then. they harden, in the end, with his gut's distrust stronger than his hearts yearning, ❝ guess they were right — spend long enough in this job and you'll start seeing shit. ❞ ghosts from his past. it draws a dry huff out of him, a bravado of flippant amusement, ❝ funny, though ... they never mentioned anything about 'em being handsome. job does have some perks. ❞
the revelation hits him like a punch, taking the breath straight out of him. leon. fuck, leon. it’s not that miles has forgotten — how could he forget? everything miles hadn’t said, and every horrible thing he had.
but sharing a head with so many fragmented memories, so many minds forced through the machine like meat on a conveyor belt. tends to muddy things up. seeing leon again is like watching through a camera lens as it shifts suddenly into brutal focus: how he looked before, in his apartment during their last fight. how he looks now.
miles scoffs a laugh. he has the audacity to be surprised, offended at leon’s hostility, even though he knows it’s more than earned. “what job would that be, honey?” still, he’s surprised by the depths of the venom in his voice, the anger he can still find within himself. miles was the one who left, after all. cut and run, like he always does. what right does he really have to be angry?
maybe it’s the walrider; the rush of fading adrenaline always has it on edge. (how long are you going to keep doing this? blaming everything on it: the venom, the rage that keeps you up at night. might have been frank manera’s memories that taught you how to strip flesh from bone the first time, but what about the second? the third? the line between you and everything else that came out of the machine with you is blurry and blood-red, even if you’ll never admit it.)
“here I thought you had some cushy desk gig back in dc. we must really be in a recession now: leon kennedy, doing wetwork.”
and he must look monstrous, too. takes effort to repress the metallic sheen of the swarm under his skin, the black spreading across his scelera. he can do it, if he tries: raise his body temp, appear less like a walking corpse (just like he used to on leon’s couch, a time that feels like a desert mirage). but there’s no point doing it now that leon’s seen him. miles hadn’t exactly been expecting company. not this kind.
the sarcastic tilt of his lips turns downward. suddenly, being angry is exhausting. “what are you doing here?” / @kingfished
RESIDENT EVIL VERSE DROP
(obviously open to plotting outside of this; if we’ve already plotted something outside of this feel free to disregard! this is just to give a base for any new plots)
PART I.
first few re games (1-4ish?) timeline speaking
post outlast
Possessed by the Walrider (to put it simply) and legally dead, Miles is chasing down a connection between Murkoff’s higher-ups and the Umbrella Corporation to find (and punish) all of those who had a role in creating the Walrider.
PART II.
anything past re4 timeline speaking
So that went badly and now I imagine he’s being vivisected* somewhere in one of Umbrella’s (or the Connections or literally whatever monster of the day evil company is making bioweapons these days) labs when your muse finds him.
*and yes I do mean vivisected; the Walrider isn’t letting him die yet.
