Entities and Ice Cream Dates [Outlast Antagonists x Uncanny! Reader Drabbles]
HAPPY HALLOW'S DAY :D my fat ass bought candy at Walmart and am currently eating it as we speak alongside a McDouble. Hope y'all are enjoying tonight!
I'm so glad y'all wanted more Uncanny because Uncanny has me by the THROAT. I love them so much and yet I know they'd eat me lol
Synopsis: Outlast antagonists and Uncanny have fun doing human things :) because MC is totally 100% a human! Yeah? Yeah! [No.]
Trager —
Tongues, fingers, balls. Tongues, fingers, balls. Tongues, fingers-
"No!" Trager just about yelled as he gripped your wrist, "For gods sake- what did I tell you?? We don't EAT the balls!"
He was quick to take the testes from you as the victim below screamed his lungs out; Trager wondered if you could even hear him over the man's yelling and screeching.
But your slow blinks and your undying grin were just an indicator that yes, you heard him, and yes, you're amused.
"...Squishy."
And that's all you had to say. He had to put you in the corner to wait. No more ball stealing!
Jeremy —
"...Jer?"
"Yeah?"
Richard's brows were raised as he witnessed the mayhem that occurred behind the two men as they feasted on sandwiches and coffee; you were chasing a man around with a golf club, the undying smile on your face all the more menacing as the man screamed for help. The man was familiar, a CEO from a company Jeremy had talked negatively about for weeks, now.
A shame nobody else was here. Not even the workers gave a shit. Good. When somebody's paid enough...
"You, uh...gonna do something, or..."
"No." Jeremy resumed eating his sandwich, a hint of mayonnaise sticking to his lip as he, totally unbothered, changed the subject. "Anyway, about this new project the old man proposed..."
And that was that. This was doing Jer a favour, if anything. Jeremy didn't question the arm you gnawed on when you finally sat down with the two men.
Eddie —
"Oh my god, darling!"
Eddie was mortified. Truly, simply, insanely mortified as he watched the sewing machine chew at your flesh, yet your expression was stuck in its usual strange, happy appearance. Eddie was quick to drop the sewing supplies, his hand ripping the sewing machine's plug from the outlet.
"Are you okay?!"
And yet you merely pulled the thread out of your skin, dangling it in front of you. "How quaint. You make skin covers with this, you said?"
He was too terrified to respond. That was the last time you used a sewing machine.
Soon after that occurrence, you were denied sewing needles after you swallowed a few.
He loved you, but...you've caused a few panic attacks.
Chris —
Walrider was the main threat; Chris' goal was simple, eradicate it and protect everybody else.
But Walrider was nothing compared to you. Chris really didn't know how to feel, or...well, react to you. He felt no urge to harm you, his claws remaining stagnant whenever you were around. Like you controlled his every action, ceased his violent tendencies at the root.
You followed him like a puppy, eating the remains of his victims like it was just a normal Tuesday.
Yeesh. Little pig indeed.
He cringed as he heard bones crunch from the force of your teeth, your face coated in red.
"...Hm."
And that's all that he said. [Well...grunted.]
Walrider —
Walrider knows you. You're kin, this much he feels; your flesh hums with kindred energy and your eyes are more of a void than actual passages to the lack of a soul.
Murkoff is yours to destroy. Hell, here's a Murkoff security guard, go nuts.
Marta —
Marta was no stranger to standing in the darkness, her eyes the only thing visible about her alongside her weapon of mass destruction, but it became obvious just how creepy she was after she wasn't the one staring.
You appeared shortly after Val's betrayal, your face always full of glee as you raked corpses off of your lawn. When was it your lawn, exactly? Didn't...Didn't Joe live there...?
She became unnerved when she realized how silent you were; one minute you'd be waving slowly, the next you're behind her breathing down her neck.
Whatever Knoth or Val worshipped, she knew that deep down, you were something much worse.
"Here...you go," you interrupted her train of thought as you rammed a crucifix in front of her.
She didn't know what to think. Does she accept it, or does she let her weapon maim you?
She doesn't want to know the outcome of the latter, with the way you've ripped up Heretics...
Val —
"Oooh, my beloved, you look so good like this," the lustful blonde moaned as they ran their hands down your body; nude, bloodied and smothered with mud, Val's attempt of claiming the unclaimable. Mud all over your nipple-less chest, your genital-less groin...a creature unlike them, yet kinned. "Yesss...satiate your hunger," they purred as you ripped at a heart, your eyes fully black with eagerness.
Val didn't quite fear you. A breath of fresh air, compared to the cowards of the New Ezekiel believers. The Heretics were a loyal bunch, going so far as to kill for their mother's new eldritch lover.
You licked your fingers free before your neck cracked a delightful 180 degrees, your eyes clearly catching something in the distance.
"There," you rasped before your body got onto all fours, slithering away alongside the dark cavern ahead.
Val nearly orgasmed at the sight, the ecstasy they felt warming their veins at the sight of your form leaving to kill something off.
And they knew you'd come back...to spread the word of your existence once again.
Leland Coyle —
"Fuckin' freak."
Yet that didn't stop Leland from tossing the body of a Reagent to you, the body near death as the last thing they could do was claw at your face.
Your...oddly pristine features. Your flesh didn't stretch, didn't even break, even as your mouth opened wide and you took their offending fingers and hand into your mouth...and ripped it clean off, the hand fading deep within your gullet.
Leland ignored it the best he could, lighting a new cigarette.
He had an odd relationship with you, one he couldn't describe. Pet and owner? No, you owned him, as much as he didn't want to admit it. Friends? No, Leland doesn't do friendship with non-human creatures.
...Then again, he wasn't one to like definitions.
Mother Gooseberry —
"I don't like the looks of that fuckin' thing, Phyllis."
Gooseberry simply rolled her eyes at the cynical words of her father; he was always like this, and with her being his daughter, she had to learn how to drown him out.
Even if he was...partially right about the way you were looking at them from the entrance of the fairgrounds, your eyes wide and your smile undying.
"Now now, doctor daddy! We don't speak that way about our beloved children who wish to have fun with us."
Yet she was quick to leave into the Root Canal, eager to greet you officially once you made it to the Root Canal.
Oh, she knew you'd make it. Call it mother's intuition.
Franco Barbi —
Tooth, tooth, click. Tooth, tooth, click.
No matter how many times he shot at you, you'd either dodge or absorb the burnt calcium no problem. Which is why you were his glorified target, used when he wasn't confident in his shots that day.
He smirked as a bit entered your forehead, your flesh eating it whole no problem. Lupara lingered against his thigh as he pulled a cigar from between his lips, "You're pretty good at this thing, sugar," he flicked the end of the fat cigar with a snicker, "Now hold fuckin' still, I wanna test something else."
There goes your finger...oh, wait, it grew back. The benefits of being a creature of otherworldly fashion, he supposed.
Kress Twins —
"Filthy, that's what it is."
"Yes, yes, my dear sister, I know. Just wait until our little beast cleans it up..."
"A shame is what this is," Arora scoffed from her position on Otto's back, the woman clearly displeased as you continued your licking of their lab's floor, "Murkoff should know better than to dirty their associates' rooms like this!"
Otto just chuckled at his sister's ranting, the chainsaw in his free hand humming with use. "Indeed. But for now, we must adapt. Such is politics."
She sighed as she watched your tongue finish up the rest of the blood pools on the flooring, "It must be so."
Easterman —
"I know what to do with you, my little lamb."
Easterman's back was to you as he watched several monitors on the wall, all of which displaying videos of your monstrosities; ripping the heads off of other reagents, stabbing other reagents, even doing so much as to use a reagent's fingers to pick your teeth.
Yet it didn't disgust him. No, this was a revelation. His eyes had been opened. Your form was quiet as you sat before him, oddly silent.
"You can't work with the other lambs, that's too much of a risk," he clicked his tongue slightly, "but lambs who work away from the slaughter...well, they prevent a slaughter."
He finally looked to you with a pleased smile, like this was a normal Tuesday. It was.
"And it is a father's duty to love all of his lambs, even if one craves the blood and life of another. So...you are to participate in trials alone. However..."
He leaned forward. "I need to make you happy somehow. I cannot control you, I have no urge to. I wish to keep my head intact."
His teeth pulled at his lip for a moment as he scanned you, his words quiet, "You will, however, be given access to cadavers. The lambs who fell victim to the wolves."
And from that point on, you became a happy lamb.
Spider. Eye. Lamb.
