It's probably not something to waste a wish on if a genie suddenly popped out one of the Mt. Massive toilets and decided to grant him said wish, but it was a wish he made nonetheless. In a daze, leaning against the wall, blood loss forcing his mind to give way to random thoughts that he was sure would be his last. What he really wanted was to be out of that fucking asylum, to be in his car, to be home. But when the strange creature offered him not only the granting of his wish (he really did want his goddamn fingers back) but a way out, he took it. Become a Magi? What the fuck? Sounded like something out of a shitty fantasy book. Something one of the Variants would probably ramble on about. But he accepted. He accepted not knowing of the truth behind Mt. Massive would ever be exposed to the world, and maybe that went against every journalistic instinct he's ever had, but at the time he simply didn't give a shit. He wanted to live.
He idly roamed the town, staring down at his hands occasionally as he observed that his fingers were in fact still missing. He felt like an asshole for having thought anything else would happen, but when you're faced with a talking cat promising to grant your wishes what in the hell were you supposed to think?
He felt angry. At himself, at Murkoff - especially at Murkoff - at that stupid creature, and at whoever sent him that email to begin with. All because in a moment of insanity and blood loss all he could think about were his goddamn fingers.
His bloody hands and the stumps where his index and ring finger once were only made him angrier and angrier, wondering just what he gave away in making his deal aside from his old life. Which, admittedly, might have ended if he stayed in Mt. Massive. But he was a cynical bastard and had to wonder if he traded in a collapsing building for one set on fire. The more he thought about the stumps on either hand, the more he wished that he'd just shut his goddamn mouth and kept going. And then suddenly he felt pain in his hands, but not pain from freshly mutilated hands, this was different, along with a pressure that became unbearable. He winced and grunted in pain as he forced himself to stay up by leaning against a building, and without really understanding what he was seeing...the ring finger on his left hand just...grew, followed by the index on his right. They were there.
He moved his fingers, wiping away the blood to see if there was some cut. But no, it's as if he never lost them, save for the strange feeling in his hands and the blood from before.
Miles Upshur | Outlast | cw: mutilation, missing body parts, body horror stuff idk grossness
["I wish I had my fucking fingers back."
It's probably not something to waste a wish on if a genie suddenly popped out one of the Mt. Massive toilets and decided to grant him said wish, but it was a wish he made nonetheless. In a daze, leaning against the wall, blood loss forcing his mind to give way to random thoughts that he was sure would be his last. What he really wanted was to be out of that fucking asylum, to be in his car, to be home. But when the strange creature offered him not only the granting of his wish (he really did want his goddamn fingers back) but a way out, he took it. Become a Magi? What the fuck? Sounded like something out of a shitty fantasy book. Something one of the Variants would probably ramble on about. But he accepted. He accepted not knowing of the truth behind Mt. Massive would ever be exposed to the world, and maybe that went against every journalistic instinct he's ever had, but at the time he simply didn't give a shit. He wanted to live.
He idly roamed the town, staring down at his hands occasionally as he observed that his fingers were in fact still missing. He felt like an asshole for having thought anything else would happen, but when you're faced with a talking cat promising to grant your wishes what in the hell were you supposed to think?
He felt angry. At himself, at Murkoff - especially at Murkoff - at that stupid creature, and at whoever sent him that email to begin with. All because in a moment of insanity and blood loss all he could think about were his goddamn fingers.
His bloody hands and the stumps where his index and ring finger once were only made him angrier and angrier, wondering just what he gave away in making his deal aside from his old life. Which, admittedly, might have ended if he stayed in Mt. Massive. But he was a cynical bastard and had to wonder if he traded in a collapsing building for one set on fire. The more he thought about the stumps on either hand, the more he wished that he'd just shut his goddamn mouth and kept going. And then suddenly he felt pain in his hands, but not pain from freshly mutilated hands, this was different, along with a pressure that became unbearable. He winced and grunted in pain as he forced himself to stay up by leaning against a building, and without really understanding what he was seeing...the ring finger on his left hand just...grew, followed by the index on his right. They were there.
He moved his fingers, wiping away the blood to see if there was some cut. But no, it's as if he never lost them, save for the strange feeling in his hands and the blood from before.
"I wish I had my fucking fingers back."]
What the fuck?