trial-n-harerror

[trial-n-harerror]

Hii sergeant coyle💖🤗

[trial-n-harerror]

Antidote

pairing: skinner man x fem!reader

rating: nsfw (18+)

summary: You're careful to retain your sanity whenever you can, always reaching for an inhaler the moment you become afflicted - but when a run of bad luck leaves you in the clutches of psychosis, you discover that someone has been waiting for you.

tags: dubious consent (impaired), drugs/intoxication (psychosis gas), tentacles, restraint, penetrative sex, slight body horror(?), reagent!reader, afab/female reader. crack fic

All it took was one slip up.

In your haste to evade the countless bloodthirsty adversaries stalking the halls, you'd crashed into a bundle of tin cans inconveniently strung directly across your path - and just as your current run of diabolical luck would dictate, of course someone had heard it.

With a wheeze of compressed gas and the rhythmic thump of his lolloping gait, your wrist is shackled by the bony fingers of a Pusher before you can even react. He yanks you closer unceremoniously, dispensing his makeshift medicine with giddy delight.

"Oh, baby, if I was going where you're going..."

And with that, you're firmly in the clutches of full blown psychosis.

As he makes his scuttling retreat, you're left alone in the darkened hallway. Your pulse labours in your ears, senses overwhelmed by the whispers and wails in your adulterated mind. Each ragged breath demands a conscious effort, your eyes uselessly attempting to blink away the manifesting hallucinations.

There he is. The Skinner Man.

He doesn't begin to approach you like usual, however - you catch only a fleeting glimpse before he simply vanishes. The spectre moves too fast for your bleary eyes to follow, and the reflexive whip of your head leaves your stomach churning.

Antidote. You're sure you saw one nearby.

You force a sluggish step, and then another - like fighting against the suck of quicksand, inertia made human. All too aware of the urgency of your condition, you strain to remember where you saw that inhaler. Left or right. Make a decision.

Losing a little sanity never really hurt anybody. Hallucinations can be unpleasant, sure, but a trick of the somewhat tilted mind can't actually harm you.

Psychosis, however... well, it doesn't tend to end well.

As your vision warps, dark lines spreading across the walls like inky capillaries, you press forward. Only a few feet in front of you spawns a long crimson tentacle, breaching the weathered floorboards and gently swaying. Your head throbs.

Pressing up against peeling wallpaper, you sidestep the tendril cautiously. It pulses as it taunts you, and you hold your laboured breaths as you pass it. Find that damn antidote.

Turning a corner leaves you disorientated, blinking slowly and deliberately when you're met with that ghoulish visage once again. The Skinner Man stares, one smoldering amber eye burning into you as he manifests a little closer than before.

...broken...lamb...perfect...

You hear it in your head, the distorted voice rattling around your skull as you press on once more, averting your gruesomely distorted gaze in the continued search for your little green salvation.

He's not real. Don't look at him.

But is he? Because he certainly feels real. The whispers infiltrating your mind feel real too. His image stutters as he slowly begins an approach this time, and you throw your body weight against the nearest door in an effort to evade him.

Where is that fucking antidote? You always carry one on you, unwilling to spend a second longer in psychosis than is ever absolutely necessary, but after a pretty hairy run in with a Berserker you'd decided to forgo your usual supplies in favour of medicinal relief. That's what you get for being sloppy.

...an angel...

The voice in your head is louder this time, and in an instant he's manifesting in the room with you, drawing closer as you stumble backwards. Your breaths only grow more shaky, rattling in your chest as you try to stave off the ever-growing nausea. Screams and gasps continue to echo in your mind as you reach out to brace yourself against the nearest wall, growing unstable on your staggering feet.

...you have...to suffer...

As your vision distorts further, hazy green and sprawling black, you whimper despairingly. You need to get away from him, because it won't be long until you start to wither. His presence alone is enough to harm you if you don't keep yourself at a distance, and it only took one instance for you to learn that the hard way.

...you...deserve...punishment...

The words are eviscerating, the same mantras so often replaying in your fractured mind - but they just feel so real, not simply hallucinations like usual. It's like he's speaking directly to you.

"Go away," you whimper, shaking your head as you shield your face with trembling hands - like a frightened child foolish enough to believe the gesture could somehow make it all stop. "Get out of my head."

...only...they...believe that...

The words catch you off guard and you force yourself to look back at the ghoul, lowering your hands cautiously to reveal the chilling figure before you. He's frozen in place as if awaiting a response, and though your lips part, you can't speak - you simply continue to draw shaky shallow breaths as your warping vision shudders around you.

...no...antidote...no chemicals...

"What did you say?"

Are you trying to converse with him? Have you really gone off the deep end that badly?

...stay...stay with...me...

He's not real. Just keep breathing.

...always...leave...lamb...

"Get out of my head!" You repeat a little louder, attempting to steady your voice as your aching chest squeezes in protest. "You're not real! You're just a hallucination, you're not real."

...feel...me...

A tentacle emerges from the floor just like before, and you recoil when it whips towards you, snaking around your waist before you can even blink. You yelp in shock, sluggish limbs uselessly slapping at the crimson appendage as it encircles your torso.

...I'm here...feel me...

It doesn't make sense. Absent is the typical agony that accompanies a misstep around one of these wicked tendrils, the sharp vicious strike replaced with a touch that's commanding and firm, unyielding yet strangely tender.

You blink slowly, watching in awe as the limb pulses against your body, twitching and throbbing as it tightens its grip just enough to anchor you in place. He steps closer, bony expression unreadable as you meet his gaze.

"I don't understand," you say softly, uncertainly, as you strain to focus on him through the sickly haze of your psychosis. "They said-"

...they lie...to you...

Your breath catches in your throat.

...to keep you...from me...

You're so quick to reach for an antidote the moment you lose a little sanity, but it always makes you sick. You've wondered which is truly worse.

...I love...you...

As the words rattle in your head, you feel another tentacle snaking around your ankle. You reflexively recoil, but the tendril around your waist keeps you steady as the other secures itself around your leg.

...let yourself...be loved...

If he's not hurting you, then perhaps there's merit in hearing him out. If you've finally shattered what was left of your mind, then what else have you truly got to lose? Another tentacle slithers up your back and down your arm, curling around one of your wrists with a gentle massaging pulse, and you don't even try to fight it.

No, it's just a hallucination - despite your impairment, you're sure you still have enough insight to recognise that. None of this is real, even if it feels like it. It's the sheer extent of your psychosis, you tell yourself - simply a case of your unmedicated mind indulging in its crooked stimuli.

You're not crazy, you're just a little sick.

Your free hand isn't left unattended for long as another claret limb encircles your other wrist, rich with heat and an uncanny sense of security. It should make you panic, leave you fighting for freedom, but you don't. There's something about that voice in your head, so commanding and certain, that leaves you unable to resist.

The Skinner Man closes the gap between you, his expressionless face mere inches from your own. You've never allowed yourself the opportunity to get so close to the phantom in the past, far too afraid of the vulnerability of insanity to remain in its clutches for too long - and now you find yourself awestruck by his haunting visage. Sharp arcs of undulating bone are met by voids of impossible darkness, something reminiscent of humanity but distinctly ethereal. He reaches a cadaverous hand up to caress your cheek, and it's not cold or brittle like you expect. There's a strange kind of warmth to it, something bewitching and inviting as talon-like nails curl around the back of your head.

...submit...consent...agree...

Just what are you agreeing to? You can't align your thoughts, so frayed and fragmented as you try to come to terms with what you're seeing. Your wrists remain firmly in place, and you're only reminded of it when you try to reach out and touch him. It makes your pulse quicken, a fly unwittingly captured in the spider's web.

...let me...show you...love...

So transfixed on the spectre before you, you hadn't noticed the tentacle that's been trailing up your thigh. It presses against you through the fabric of your pants, sliding against your clothed crotch with firm rhythmic strokes, and you find yourself nodding dumbly. His skeletal face is mere inches from your own as more tendrils eagerly pull the garment down over the curve of your ass, just far enough to allow one of them access to you.

...my...lamb...

The heat of the slithering limb is intense, and when it slips between your thighs and presses against your bare skin you can't help but whine aloud. Its movements are tender but decidedly purposeful, sliding back and forth against your clit and drawing out slick arousal with ease. Your thighs begin to tremble at the stimulation, your weight almost completely supported by the web of tentacles as your body surrenders to their wordless authority. With a shaky sigh, your eyelids flutter closed.

...all...mine...

When the tip of the tentacle teases at your entrance, you're overcome with an almost instinctual need - the echoes of his voice reverberate in your head, and your own distorted gasps replay in your mind when the throbbing tendril presses inside. Your eyes snap open as your mouth hangs agape, breath snatched away by the overwhelming sensation as it eases itself in with gentle careful pushes, as though you're made of glass. Perhaps you are.

His gaze is intense, scorching and unwavering, and though his expression remains frozen by unyielding bone, something about it feels almost reverent. His hands reach up to cup your face again, ensuring your glassy eyes don't stray from him as the pulsing appendage begins to thrust deeper, faster, as if reassured that you won't shatter at its touch.

...been...watching you...waiting...wanting...

The tip of a tentacle strokes at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh as the other continues to meticulously caress your insides, eagerly seeking out your pleasure as it works. Another slides under the harness of your ESOP, snaking around the curve of your breast and massaging it firmly.

...an angel...my angel...

Pleasure envelops you as each scarlet limb plays its role in taking you apart. His thumbs stroke the apples of your cheeks, one tenderly swiping away a tear that's trickled from your watering eyes. Your body is tensing up, held fast by the clinging grip of those pulsating restraints, and admidst your arousal you feel a dizzying sense of of horror when he slowly unhinges his jaw. Rows of off-white teeth part as another tentacle snakes in through the base of his skull and out through his jagged maw. Frozen in place, it seeks you out, sliding in between your parted lips without resistance and tenderly exploring your willing mouth. You moan around the intrusion as it glides across your tongue, the taper of the limb forcing your mouth a little wider to accomodate it. You suck, not out of conscious choice but rather a peculiar kind of instinct - it feels right, feels good, and as your body is nurtured towards its release, you finally allow your eyes to drift shut once again.

With the seemingly ceaseless and undivided attention dedicated to your release, your pleasure finally crescendos into a shuddering climax, unfettered and all-consuming as it saturates your senses. Every nerve is alight, each cell flooded with an otherworldly ecstasy, and still muzzled by the tentacle lazily sliding between your lips you find incomprehensible release amongst the endless limbs embracing you.

...I love...you...

The words make you open your eyes as quickly as you can muster, phosphenes dancing like fireflies in your vision as you try to focus on him from beneath hooded lids. Gentle hands silently withdraw from your prickling skin, and as quickly as they manifested the tentacles begin to dissipate, shimmering and dissolving as the stain of psychosis begins to wash away. Your limbs are weak, boneless and trembling as you're released from their grasp, withering and spent as they make their reluctant retreat.

...I'll be waiting...for you...

And with a blink of your bleary eyes, he's gone.

[trial-n-harerror]

THAT'S NOT YOUR DOG ????

THAT IS NOT YOUR DOG

SOMEBODY TELL COYLE

(Rodney belongs to Tumblr User @trial-n-harerror)

[trial-n-harerror]

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[trial-n-harerror]

Flowers Where Nothing Grows

Outlast Trials Fanfiction, starring @trial-n-harerror's Honey and my Reagent Beckett. 💐 [Read document format here]

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Nothing grows in Sinyala. 

Some Trials might give a glimpse of the outdoors, but they were far away from anything green. If those Evidence Documents had any legitimacy to them – photos of corpses strewn in bloodsoaked sand – Sinyala was in a desert.

How could Beckett ever give flowers to a woman in a place where nothing grows?

Logistics aside, it was foolish to even be thinking of it. Honey Booker was a Prime Asset, a dominating force in the Trials, someone with the greatest possible drive to kill Beckett and the other Reagents. And maybe she doesn’t even like flowers! Maybe she finds them tacky or cliche. What does Beck even know about offering tokens to a woman like her?

Beckett let out a groan at the thought, pressing her face into her knees where she sat tightly curled on the floor of her cell, back pressed against the door to keep Brooke from barging in. 

She just set a new record. She only lasted two sentences, two coherent thoughts about why this was a bad idea, before she delved right back into the bashful nerves of having a crush. 

This wasn’t smart. Being smart was the only thing keeping Beckett alive in this place, and even that was an advantage compromised by fear half the time. She didn’t need to be compromised by infatuation as well.

Exhaling, Beck lifted her head, resting it against the smooth surface of the door. She dropped her hands to her sides, fingers tugging on the pages of the magazine she was flipping through before. Brooke had stolen dozens of magazines from other Reagents and taken to stashing them in Beck’s room, so now they were her problem.

She glanced down at the colorful pages looking back at her, shades of neon, artificial and bright. Mostly advertisements, from when Beck read them over, and a few pieces about the American dream. Nothing substantial enough for Beck to enjoy reading them, not even enjoyable for her kleptomaniac sister either. Some of the pictures were pretty, though.

Beck liked pretty things. If Honey liked pretty things too, Beck might be right out of luck. 

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The Trial shuttle jostled uncomfortably on the ride there. Beck dug her fingers into her arm rest with nerves, but different from the unease she usually felt before Trials. These nerves were with a purpose. She wanted to do more — considerably more — than survive this time.

And the papers that hopefully weren’t creasing in her pockets would see that she did. 

The shuttle pulled to a halt, Beck, Brooke, and their two teammates climbing from their seats and readying themselves to head out into the Trial. 

Brooke split off first with a laugh, “See ya later!” And the other two Reagents, familiar with each other, agreed that splitting up to complete the tasks more efficiently was the best strategy.

Beckett was left alone, which wasn’t unusual or a bother. In fact, this time it was working in her favor. If she came across Honey, Beck wanted it to be just the two of them. 

A long while passed on her own, and just as Beck tore down another propaganda poster for the secondary objective, finally, she heard Honey’s voice. 

“A woman’s work is never done... Never done, never done.” 

Beckett dove under a desk, out of sight in less than a second. It was strategic, she could watch from a hiding place like this. And she wanted to watch.  

Honey came into the room like the sun rising over the horizon, glowing and lovely. Chestnut hair, graceful limbs. She was exceptionally pretty, scars and all, and Beck liked her eyes the most. 

Honey’s voice came again. “I know every part of this house, like any good wife should.”

Honey glided across the room, wandering around on patrol with no apparent sense of urgency. She didn’t seem to think anyone was near, moving down the hall until she was out of sight, only her voice remaining for Beck to cling to, and even that was growing distant.

Beck didn’t want to be distant. She crawled out of the hiding place and crept into the hall, keeping to the shadows. She– She could do this, couldn’t she? Beck might have less experience tailing Honey compared to other ExPops, but Beck could still do it safely. 

“Cook and clean, behave, be quiet. Smile, but not too much. Don’t talk too loud, answer when spoken to….”

Beck followed behind Honey close enough to see and hear her, but not close enough to catch Honey’s attention in the peripherals. Honey seemed to be talking to herself as she went along,  maybe reciting something as she peered into barrels for anyone hiding.

“Be pretty, be polite. Ask about his day. Be small, be quiet. Don’t act out. Don’t misbehave. …I can be a good girl, I promise.”

Beck frowned. She didn’t… like what Honey was reciting. They sounded like instructions, and Beckett knew what for. Honey was listing the rules of being a good wife. Beck knew that because her own mother had once described to her a very similar set of expectations.

One day a man will love you, and you'll live the rest of your life supporting him. You will build a family, a name so pristine that the whole city will look on you with envy. You’ll give him everything you have, and he’ll give you the life you deserve.

Beckett’s mother had phrased it all like an inevitability. But even so, Beck could never envision herself getting married. She already had a hard time living up to the needs and expectations of her family. The idea of doing it all over again for a husband was too dreadful to think about.

After her father left, her mother's views towards marriage shifted into spite. She would tell Beck repeatedly that she could never be useful enough for someone to put a ring on her finger. 

Hurtful as that was, it was far easier for Beck to accept that no one would ever want her than to accept becoming a wife.

Honey kept moving down the hallway. Now she was checking lockers for anyone hiding within. “Don’t keep me waiting, baby.”

I could be useful to Honey. The thoughts were unbidden as Beckett followed Honey along. I could be useful. I wouldn’t make her follow rules. I wouldn’t let her feel alone or sad. I could…

Beckett shifted at the intensity of the sudden feelings, and her foot touched broken glass, making a cracking sound. Honey was fast to whip her head around at the noise, but Beckett was faster to dodge out of sight, crawling under the nearest table with her heart in her throat.

“Playing hard to get?” Honey cooed from the hallway, and Beckett could hear her getting closer. Soon she could see the trail of her dress as she walked with a purpose down the hall, no doubt looking for Beck, who despite it all, wouldn’t be devastated if she were found.

No, no, no, she’s being so stupid. This is so bad.

This– This wasn't like her fascination with Gooseberry, where Beck would daydream about a better world where she could just be in Gooseberry's presence, enjoy her fondness without any of her violence. Gooseberry was a daydream. In real life, Beck would never consider doing anything but running away from the Prime Asset.

Honey was real. Beck wants to talk to Honey, to understand her. Beck wants to help her and provide for her. Beck wants to know everything about her, what brought her happiness, what triggered her rage, what made her cry and wail so miserably those few heartbreaking occasions that happened. Beckett wants it all so much, that she was making stupid mistakes while stalking Honey around her own Trial. 

And none of that even touches on the papers that are still in Beckett’s pocket!

Abruptly, there was a sound — the bell-like alarm that rang whenever a task had been completed and the next one would be assigned. 

Beck could hear Honey’s growl of displeasure. “I hear you, I hear you, you devil.” 

Then Honey began to storm, right past Beckett so she could see Honey’s face twisted in agitation, towards a deeper part of the Trial. Beck didn’t want her to leave — for strategic reasons, of course. Her team could be more effective if the Prime Asset didn’t get in their way. So Beck did something she’d never done before.

Beckett came out of her hiding place, bottle in hand, and smashed it against the wall.

The effect was immediate. Honey whirled around, still at the far end of the hallway, but even at the distance the recognition was unmistakable. And  — oh God — so was the bloodlust. 

“There’s my pretty thing!”  Honey was fast as a viper, shooting down the hallway towards Beck, who stood stock still, mesmerized, for a second too long before turning on her heel and bolting. 

Honey was fast, striking her mace against the wall as Beck flung herself to slide across the floor, through a gap in the wall near the floor, just barely dodging the blow.

Beck threw herself back up and ran and ran, daring only once to look back and see Honey easily get through the gap in the wall and restart the chase. Somewhere between sincerity, hysteria, and taunting, Honey called out, “What’s the matter, what have I done?” as she gained on Beck with terrifying speed.

Shit. Shit! Honey's footsteps were pounding, she was faster than Beck and quickly catching up. Beck dashed through a doorway, grabbing the wood to slam it behind to slow Honey down —

When a thin but tight hand seized around Beck’s wrist and ripped her backwards, then releasing by flinging her across the room with a powerful toss, crashing Beck against a wall. Beck gasped and forced herself to regain her senses, to focus, to, to –

Honey stood still imposing, her expression a maelstrom of things Beck could not place. Maybe bemusement or mean indifference as she toyed with her bouquet mace, gently swinging it back and forth – a cat with her canary – as she appraised Beck’s trembling appearance. 

“You’re not the dazzling one.” Honey mused. “The bad girl, all in pink with sparklers in her hands.”

Brooke. She’s talking about Brooke. Brooke is one that makes an impression. Brooke is the outgoing one, the natural-born leader. Brooke is the one people are able to love. 

She wouldn’t remember you. She didn’t want to see you. 

Burying the unwarranted resentment, Beckett forced out, for no sane reason, “No, I’m not. I’m Beckett.”

“A good girl?” Honey mocked with a growing grin. Clearly she was mocking Beck as she stepped closer, but the compliment made Beck’s heart leap into her throat anyways. “Don’t worry, I’m going to take good care of you.”

Honey readied her attack, taking the stance to swing again, and in a panic, Beck raised her hands to block and yelped out, “I don’t want to hurt you!”

And Honey laughed. A bright and startled sound, her whole face lighting up in a joyous incredulity. “That’s cute! You’re cute!” Honey raised her weapon with fast enthusiasm. 

Holding her breath, Beck activated her Healing Rig.

The red dust filled the space between them and as Honey jerked back, coughing, gagging, swinging at the open air to get the chemicals away, Beckett bolted past her, running through the door exactly as she planned before and leaving Honey behind.

She ran and ran, her heart pounding from within her chest and her lungs straining to breathe, but she did not stop running until she made it back to the main area – the area she knew would eventually lead to the exit of the Trial, maybe 200 meters away from here, when it was all over. 

Beckett climbed into a barrel to hide and breathe.

That was close. Unreasonably close, close beyond any rationality inside Beckett’s body and mind. Beck could have died. Beck was almost killed. Beck saw– Beck got to see Honey’s face so close to her own. Every detail, every inch smooth and marred and all of her beautiful and so very cruel. She heard Honey’s laughter. Not a kind laugh, but she called Beckett cute. She didn’t do that kindly either, but ‘cute’ and ‘pretty thing’ and ‘good girl’ still felt good even when Honey was being condescending.

Honey almost killed her. Honey was going to kill her. And Beckett told Honey her name and promised to not harm her.

The– The Healing Gas wasn’t harmful, technically, even if there seemed to be some temporarily adverse reactions to it from the ExPops. Maybe something in the medication, something in their chemical balances that differed from Reagents, but Honey wasn’t harmed. She had to know that Beck was sincere.

But Lord, when was the last time Beck spoke to any Prime Asset? Never to Barbi. Some startled squeaking and apologies around Gooseberry. An unpleasant amount of screaming and pleading to Coyle. But Beck spoke to Honey and wanted to again. Honey was different.

As several minutes went by and there was no further sound, Beckett decided to take the papers out of her pockets. 

It was cramped to do this in a barrel, but if she had gone this far, she wanted to see this through to the end. She just felt sorry that she was spending so much time ignoring the Trial objectives.

Gently, Beck unfolded the papers piece by piece, and folded them into place. Artificial colors and neons, scraps from the magazine pages she cut into shape with stolen scissors. She cupped them around each other to form the buds and petals, twisted the longer scraps for the stems, and pressed them together, bound with a string.

Beck couldn’t carry a bouquet into a Trial, but she could carry the pieces for one. And if nothing grows in Sinyala, Beck would make flowers of her own to give to a woman who deserved them.

There was a little note attached, not signed because Beckett still had at least somewhat healthy amounts of modesty and sense to her. Being a secret admirer would be enough.

It was still quiet in this area by the time Beck was finished and peaked out of the barrel. No one in sight. She carefully climbed out, glancing all around. Honey was sure to pass through here – they all had to pass through here to access the shuttle – but where should Beck leave the bouquet? Where would Honey see it?

Beck frowned in uncertainty, and crept deeper into the area, further from the exit. She was not ready to risk another close encounter, but maybe, maybe on that table at the end of the hallway. Honey was sure to see it there. …At some point. Hopefully.

Beck gently set down the bouquet and note and let out a sigh. Idly, and for once not feeling the urge to duck and hide, she checked on her night vision. The battery was lower than she liked. If she remembered right, a little room around the corner had a door trap set up. She could pilfer a battery if she deactivated it.

Beckett made her way to the open window that led into said room, carefully avoiding the shattered glass along the edges, and climbed into the room. Most rooms had more than one way in and out, and that made a moment like this useful. 

She moved in the dark and crouched when she made it to the door, hands tugging at the mechanism to release the battery.

Then, jolting her into stopping, was an announcement overhead. 

“Please exit the Trial.”

Exit the– The Trial was over? Oh Lord, everyone else finished all the objectives without her. Brooke is going to poke so much fun at Beck for that.

Beckett cursed herself internally, but was unable to fret about it further when suddenly, the door slammed open, and Beck fell backwards. 

Honey Booker twisted her body to dodge the trap that flew past her, but her eyes never left Beck’s shape on the floor. “Never liked those things.” Her expression was nothing but cold hostility, the eerie calm before a raging storm. “Did you miss me?” She snapped her wrist, bringing her weapon into view. “It’s about time you were on your knees.”

She swung down hard, and Beck yelped and dove out of the way, desperately forcing herself to her feet as the lead-like terror filled her legs. The window frame, GO FOR THE WINDOW–

Beckett leapt through the window frame, but not fast enough. The mace cracked against her back, barbs tearing her shirt, her skin, the sheer metal cold tearing flesh and certainly infecting her with poison. Beck screamed and fell onto the ground, landing on all fours. She fumbled for her Healing Rig, missing the lever as she stumbled to her feet and tried to run –

But again, Honey was faster. She grabbed Beck by the throat and threw her to the floor.

Beck slammed into the ground, landing on her back. The force of it stole the air from her lungs and she nearly bounced off the floor, but Honey was on her again, pinning Beck down beneath her, expressing nothing but murderous intent and fury. One of Honey’s hands was pulling Beck’s kerchief like a leash, the other bracing Honey’s own weight next to Beck’s head. 

The poison already tiring Beck, and with the suddenness of this situation, the dominating act being pinned – Beck laid stock still in submission, body limp as she stared at Honey, unblinking. 

“Now isn’t it better this way? Mine all mine,” Honey was sneering at Beck’s helpless state, weapon slowly raising. “I’m starting to think you like it down there.”

“I do.” The answer was automatic. She can’t stop looking at Honey’s face. “You’re breathtaking.”

Honey halted. Beckett’s cheeks burned in mortification. 

She didn’t– She didn’t mean to say that out loud, not even if it was the absolute truth. Beck didn’t even expect Honey to listen to whatever she said, no one really listens to Beck anyways. But here Honey was, still pinning her, and utterly taken aback.

And Beck wasn’t able to stop herself now, tears pricking her eyes out of embarrassment of all things. Her hands pressed against her burning cheeks as she rambled, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I don’t want to upset you. You’re lovely and you're beautiful, I have to tell you that. I left you flowers, I–”

The flash of light, the bang, the electric burn that struck them both was all too familiar. Beck recognized the abrupt attack the second it hit – a Stun Rig. 

Beck saw it hit Honey in her side, knocking her clean off Beck, and tumbling against the floor.

“Piece of shit!!” Honey screamed as she clambered around, trying and failing to stand up. She yelled out in anger and the painful aftershocks. “Heartless!”

Beck could feel her skin buzzing, her skeleton vibrating from being in a shock zone and wasn’t able to even try to stand. She wasn’t hit as hard, obviously, but goddamn if it didn’t throw her off. 

Since today was one for being pulled around like a rag doll, Beck was seized at the wrist and yanked upwards to her feet, caught when she stumbled by her twin sister. 

Brooke laughed briefly, and pulled the lever of Beck’s Healing Rig herself, filling the space between them with the red dust, and relieving the burn on the poison coursing in Beck’s veins.

“Were you having fun down there?” Brooke teased, in no rush to make them run, even though their two teammates were already sprinting past them and for the exit.

“I–” Beck stopped herself, distraught and immediately focused on Honey’s writhing form. Despite what was happening seconds ago – an execution in the making – Beck wasn’t afraid. She pushed Brooke off her and said. “G-Get to the exit. I’m behind you.”

Brooke raised a brow. “Go ahead?”

“Yes. Go.” Beck insisted.

Brooke looked at her, no less questioningly, but pressed a brick into Beck’s hand and ran off. It was a relief whenever Brooke did what she asked, now more than ever. 

Beck dropped the brick, not needing it. Her hands were shaking, but she made herself step a few inches closer to Honey, who was standing now, but in a daze, shouting incoherently in the dizzying sting of the Stun still in effect.

On frantic instinct, Beckett placed a roll of bandages on the ground and hurried away, hands up in surrender, but not yet retreating. “You can use this. I don’t think there’s a reason you can’t.” 

“You’re no good!” Honey was still staggering, and likely not listening. 

“You are– I–” Another announcement played overhead, interrupting Beck. Someone pressed the button, ten seconds to go until the shuttle arrived. 

Beckett sucked in a breath, heart pounding with the absolute last shred of her courage, as she raised her voice to ensure she’d be heard. “I want to listen to everything you like. I want to see you be happy, and I, I know you’d like to kill me, but–” 

Another announcement. Time is up, the shuttle is here, she needs to go. 

Honey isn’t stumbling anymore, she’s standing more still now, still rubbing at her head, but focused again, and focused on Beck. The Stun is about to wear off.

With her last words, Beck repeated herself, and said, “I left you flowers.”

And then Beck took out the last item in her inventory – an adrenaline she had stored away – and injected herself. 

With the boost of speed, she took off, racing for the shadows, for the path she easily memorized the last time she was here, and made it to the shuttle with the last of her strength. Brooke was still there, and just Stunned a Big Grunt from the looks of things.

Brooke lit up seeing Beck, waving and laughing, and then hopped into the shuttle, not waiting to make sure Beck did the same, knowing Beck would make it. 

The moment Beck passed through the doors, she collapsed to her knees and wheezed for air, nearly hacking up her lungs as she heaved and heaved, anxiety finally wearing her down. Brooke rubbed her back, and also hit her back a couple of times, until Beck settled. 

All four Reagents settled into their seats, every last one of them exhausted, and were locked in for their upcoming evaluation, and rode home.

Beck didn’t know if Honey would find the bouquet. Insecurity whispered to Beck that she wouldn’t, or worse, would find Beck creepy and pathetic. And honestly, it was only on the ride home that Beckett realized how stupid it was to try to win Honey’s favor with a bouquet, when Honey already had a bouquet of her own of poison and barbs.

But what���s done is done. Beck completed her most daring Trial to date, was injured and poisoned, very likely made a fool of herself, barely did a thing to help her team, and Beck could not bring herself to feel regret.

[trial-n-harerror]

Silly overdraw of a meme image, addie ft @trial-n-harerror 's new fella, Rodney 🤭 they hate eachother !

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Another Reagent OC!!! this is Rodney Barasso and he is my current favourite asshole, an ex-military man with an insane amount of trust issues

loves to hate and hates to love <3

[trial-n-harerror]

I need some prime asset requests to keep me in my Outlast phaseee

Take these OLD ass things that came out of my head

[trial-n-harerror]

EVEN MORE Outlast Trials Reagent OC memes, this time featuring my mutuals' characters!! 🥰

[Memes part 1] [Memes part 2]

Al belongs to @sad-zombie-boy

Honey belongs to @trial-n-harerror

Chalcanthite belongs to @graboidmilk

Mouse belongs to @dovahhmonn

Mallory and Adelaide belong to @chimeraartist

BONUS

Original memes below cut

[trial-n-harerror]

Decided to finish the doodle and it actually ended up looking likee Coyle so YIPPPEEEEEEEEE

A silly little doodle of him[traced a stock image of a cop]

[trial-n-harerror]

Applehead.

[trial-n-harerror]

justalitolfreak's "callout"

I am so disappointed to be making this post, but unfortunately my hand has been forced. I know some of you have seen a post in the outlast tags about a supposed 'callout' for our discord server, and it's only fair for me to clear this up.

It should go without saying that this is unfortunately a malicious allegation. They have never been a part of our server (because they were blocked when it was made to prevent them from bringing drama into our space), and they are now intentionally trying to cause distress to the people I care about. Unlike them, I will actually provide some context, and I'll put this under a cut so that only the people who want more information will see it - because I'm not desperate to perpetuate drama unlike the people concerned in this bullshit post.

If you ask for proof of their allegation they will not provide it, because there is none. What there is proof of, however, is the persistent and continued harassment of myself and my friends. This is the only time I will speak on this - purely for the purpose of clarifying the situation - and then I will not be speaking on this again.

If you care to hear the details, they will be below. If you don't give a shit (which honestly, I would not blame you at all), then please just know that this mess is the most ridiculous and overinflated 'drama' I've ever dealt with in my life, and I'm sorry to have to say this at all.

WARNING: mentions of suicide baiting and emotional manipulation, very brief mention of extreme/highly taboo themes (mentioned due to an anonymous ask)

Context:

Earlier this year myself, elgarwhore (Knife) and cyberneticslasher (Zed) were members of the 'prime time' discord server, which was ran by traitorousfruit and mustymausoleum (now sugared-arsenic I believe) - I'll refer to them as Fruit and Mau for brevity. Myself and Knife were also moderators in the server for a period.

During the course of our time there, Mau developed a kind of proximity crush on me. It was impulsive and became quite obsessive, and due to us both being in relationships at the time I explained that I was not comfortable with anything coming from it. She made me believe that it would all be okay and that she respected my feelings.

One evening while all five of us were in a call, Mau decided to drunkenly declare to everyone that she was "in love" with me. She had already been discussing this with Fruit for a while, but Knife and Zed were not aware of this at all. This was a humiliating, embarrassing, and distressing experience, but I squashed down these feelings and instead tried to be supportive and play it off like it was nothing in order to not upset the apple cart.

Following this call, Mau made vague indications that she would do something irresponsible as a result (choosing to say goodbye when I said good night, saying I wouldn't ever see her again etc.). Fruit did the same while on a call with Knife and Zed, keeping them on the call until the early hours by suggesting that if they left them alone they would also do something irresponsible. Despite having a very uncomfortable bombshell dropped on them out of nowhere, Knife and Zed remained in the call and talked Fruit down (even though Zed had work in just a few hours and needed to rest).

We had hoped that it could go away, considering that we were all trying our best to act like it didn't happen so that Mau and Fruit didn't feel embarrassed or ashamed of the night's events. For a few days, things were okay.

Then, Mau 'accused' Knife, Zed and me of having a group chat without her in it. We confirmed that we did - we had made the chat a while before all of this went down and used it as a place to chat about and develop OCs, to occasionally vent frustrations with the server (because we had raised some concerns about some member conduct, and sadly no action had been taken by Fruit to safeguard the server members - and even when Knife and I had been made mods we were not "allowed" to kick or ban people who were disrupting or causing harm in the space), and we would also occasionally discuss more 'dead dove' style content themes that we didn't want to put in the prime time server (because we didn't want anyone to be made uncomfortable by it). Knife jokingly told her that we just used it to share 'snuff' with each other - we didn't, and we never have (because funnily enough none of us have any interest in that whatsoever) - but she tried to be silly and over the top about it to kind of 'lighten the blow', since at this point we knew we were about to deal with yet another crashout. She also asked Knife if we had spoken about her or Fruit there, and Knife told her that they had only been brought up when I had needed to provide context to her outburst in the voice call a few nights prior.

Mau then decided to come into my DMs and accuse us of triggering her BPD by having a group chat. I explained that I was unwilling to accept that, as I would not be told who I was allowed to have friendships with outside of the server and would not be held responsible for her own reactions. I felt that she was trying to guilt trip me and was still retaining this possessiveness and jealousy she felt, and I was tired of her attempts to manipulate me.

The following night, Zed got an accidental DM from Fruit (meant for Mau), suggesting that they were going to 'get drunk and see what happened'. Unsurprisingly, later that night Knife and I had our moderator roles removed without so much as a courtesy message.

We told them that it felt like a betrayal, and that after all the shit we'd put up with and the fact that we'd still tried to be supportive to them even when they'd hurt us, we no longer wanted to associate with them. We hashed it out in DMs and got everything off of our chests, and then parted ways. Initially I told Fruit that I wouldn't block them and would still be civil if they felt they needed to reach out for support, but after thinking over the circumstances, I decided that blocking and moving on was the best decision for my own wellbeing.

This is why we made our server. We wanted a place where we didn't have to deal with this shit, where people could express themselves in an adult space that was free of judgement and drama, and where the staff would actually handle any safeguarding issues there and then if any came up. Clearly this didn't go down well with them.

Blocking Fruit on discord also resulted in me receiving paragraphs in my tumblr dms slating both myself and my friends and calling me a bitch for blocking them. That was when I knew I'd made the right decision.

I was sent a suspicious anon ask about the new server, asking if "all nsfw was allowed" including specifically cannibalism, rape, and snuff. I was suspicious that it was an attempt from them to try and discredit the server, and it seems like my suspicions were sadly correct. Knife also got a really horrible anon message, which she has posted.

Additionally, despite actually having nothing to do with this at all other than being in the group chat, Zed has also been sent very hurtful and personal anonymous hate from them (including telling her to kill herself, which is frankly disgusting and unforgivable to me). This is completely unacceptable and displays the sheer level of vitriol that they have for us purely because we weren't willing to continue being manipulated and taken for granted by them. They are intentionally trying to hurt us, and this attempt to discredit the server and our community is the last straw for me.

I am so tired. Despite trying my absolute best to play down my own feelings and not crash out over the way I was treated, and subsequently the way my friends have been treated, I can't sit by and watch this shit happen anymore. I'm just so sick of it. I haven't attached screenshots to this post because despite all of this I am still not willing to share private DMs publicly, but if anybody wants to see any proof of what I've said then I can share this privately, please just reach out.

If you've taken the time to read this, thank you so much. It means the world that you have enough faith in me to hear me out.

I will not be publicly speaking about this again. I'm done. I want nothing to do with either of these people. I just want to enjoy the fandom space, continue growing our amazing discord community, and find a bit of peace again after a very painful experience.

Disclaimer: Please do not contact or harass the individuals involved - regardless of what's happened nobody deserves to be subjected to that, and we just want this put to bed once and for all.

[trial-n-harerror]

Can we see a puppy plushie design since we've gotten plushies of Coyle?

HEHE thank you so much for asking this it ain't much and its prob way too detailed still but hed look something like this I think

[trial-n-harerror]

My tablet has been broke for the past like several days and I finally bought a new wire but it cost like a big chunk of money so I'm prolly gonna promo comms again

[trial-n-harerror]

opening unlimited slots if anyone is interested!!

they'll only close if I find I'm falling too far behind on them but I feel like I've learned to pace myself decently

some examples! [more on the carrd!!]

[trial-n-harerror]

WOOOFOOWOOWOOFOWOFOWOOOFWOFOOWOFOOFOBAKRBAKBRBARKBAKRBAKRBBAKRBARJBARK

presinyala coyle scribble for prosperity

[trial-n-harerror]

Since @trial-n-harerror posted his swap AU art I'm slapping down one of the pieces I did of them for this au as well 🤭💕

(ALSO THANKING YOU AGAIN POOKIE FOR HELPING ME FIGURE OUT LINKS)