#not in this chapter though because PLOT

[wil-o-wispy]

The Wife, the Lover and the Bastard Son - Part 3

Pairing: Chris Redfield x FM! Reader (but not in this part)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (You are here) | Part 4 | Part 5

Summary: One year after running from your feelings for Chris Redfield, an oddly familiar face emerges from the shadows.

Contents: Small spoilers for RE6, mentions of vomitting from seasickness, canon typical violence/swearing, Jake banter, canon typical puzzle bullshit, LORE. Reader is referred to as 'Doc' and is the wife of (dead) Albert Wesker and is a former Umbrella scientist.

a/n: Jake is literally one of the best characters in RE6 it is CRIMINAL that he's not in more fics. Be the change you want to see in the world. The plot is plotting in this part and I got a little carried away with descriptions but we're rolling with it. Also many thanks for 100+ likes on this series already. Enjoy!

w/c: 7.1k

1 Year Later:

Don’t puke. Don’t puke. Don’t puke.

That’s all you can think of under the black hood. The last thing you need right now is to puke on yourself. You should be thinking of ways to escape your current predicament, but your stomach lurching with the irregular rise and fall of the boat you’re handcuffed to, the indiscernible shouting of your kidnappers, the sweat all over your body from the unbearable heat and seasickness, and the sickeningly strong scent of fish and salty air is making that near impossible.

How the hell do I keep getting caught up in this shit? Don’t fucking puke. Breathe in through the mouth, out through the nose.

You’d had terrible seasickness since Albert kept you on that tanker for so long until Africa happened. After the second time trying to escape him and being mildly successful, he wanted to make damn sure that it didn’t happen again. Therefore: boat timeout. A boat prison meant it would be more difficult to escape. More resources needed, more planning required for a chance at walking on dry land. The chronic seasickness was an unintended side effect you’re sure, but it only gave another weakness for Albert to leverage against you. ‘The sickness will cease if you listen to me dearheart,’ didn’t sound like a compelling argument on its own to inject Uroboros in your veins, but presented as a solution to vomiting constantly because of the ocean’s movement for four years, it was pretty damn tempting some days. If you didn’t already know that virus was a death sentence, you might have given it a shot.

You’d even insisted that any transportation involving sea travel be explicitly prohibited while you were consulting/in protective custody with the B.S.A.A. Travel by air and car were far more convenient anyway, or at least that’s what Chris assured you. The man witnessed you puking your guts out the day he rescued you from that tanker. Of course he’d back up your request.

I wonder if he knows I’m gone yet. Deep breaths. Don’t puke.

It’s likely, considering it’s been some hours. Even though you’re considered part of B.S.A.A Europe now, you’re still willing to bet that Chris still got important updates about you considering your history. Higher-ups wouldn’t think twice about their favorite soldier wanting updates about the widow of Albert Wesker.

You know better.

His interest is much more personal than that.

As much as you would like to entertain a relationship, you can’t bring yourself to finding out what the aftermath of Chris’ professional life would be if you did. You felt guilty about leaving so quickly and not even telling him, but you figured if you had told him before you left, he might have convinced you to stay. You’d sent him a text wishing him well when you got to your new apartment an ocean away, which is better than nothing you suppose.

You hope he’d get a kick out of the security footage at least. You managed to aggressively elbow one of your kidnappers in the jaw and make them stagger back before you were overwhelmed, restrained and thrown in the back seat of a car. Surprisingly, there weren’t any physical consequences to that besides a mildly sore elbow. Whoever wanted to take you wants you all in one piece, which can either be really good or really bad. It’s the world’s most shitty game of roulette; is it a job offer to work for a terrorist organization? Or is it one of Albert’s disgruntled business partners wanting to use you as a test subject for revenge? Both were unpleasant in their own ways.

With all the circumstances surrounding your transfer to the Germany B.S.A.A. lab, everything was going surprisingly well. Too well. You should have known it wouldn’t last forever. Nothing good ever does in your life. Chris had tried to reach out a few times wanting to talk, but you always dodged his calls blaming the time difference, your workload, or the near-constant stream of outbreaks that always required your professional attention. You didn’t mind. Keeping busy meant less time to think about Chris’ wounded expression the last time you saw him. The attempts at contact eventually slowed in frequency and you only saw him in the occasional group video call regarding major outbreaks. The North American branch rarely had a reason to visit your particular station with it only being a lab and having nothing to do with the B.S.A.A.’s military operations. A small blessing in your eyes.

Germany was a far away dream at this point. There’s light piercing through the fabric of your hood, so you know it’s the next day. It was night when you were taken. You didn’t get a good look at your kidnappers, but you heard them speaking some sort of Asiatic-related language before they bagged you, as well as throughout your journey to wherever ‘here’ is. All you know for sure is that you were in a car for a long time, a plane for an even longer amount of time (that you somehow slept through most of), and this boat for what feels like an eternity.

Mercifully, your hear shouts from the shore and the movement of the boat changes from a straight choppy line to a diagonal jerky tug and pull. They’re docking the boat. You hear an announcement from an old-sounding speaker in that same unfamiliar language close by, followed by an ear grating buzzer. The words from the speaker echo around the space, giving you the impression of a rocky and unforgiveable terrain.

You still feel wobbly when you’re practically dragged from the boat by your handcuffed wrists, but you manage to walk in what you think is a straight line towards wherever your destination is. The hollow echo of walking on wood underneath your feet turns into the gravely sound of small pebbles, then morphs into solid concrete. The overwhelming fish smell also grows weaker the farther you walk inland, although you can still barely smell it if you focus on your kidnappers. They’re talking boisterously and laughing. You can hear them on either side of you, in front of you, and behind you. The desire to rip off your hood, bodycheck the goons next to you, and run off into God-knows-where was strong, but it was also a rash, stupid decision.

Don’t lash out immediately, know the enemy first.

You’d always been told to comply with kidnappers until the B.S.A.A. could get to you, but on the other hand you’re just too proud to blindly do everything they tell you. You always operate on the assumption they won’t find you in time. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst. So, you do what’s become natural at this point: observe and take mental notes.

After a few more paces and a comment from the leader in front of you that the other three belly laugh at, you hear a metallic click, then the metal on metal symphony of a large factory sized door slowly opening a few yards in front of you. There’s a moment of silence between your kidnappers. Then, the ringleader in front of you tugs on your cuffs so hard that you nearly stumble to the ground, but you manage to barely keep your balance. He says words where he sounds like he’s smiling. A joke like before? But the other three aren’t laughing this time. The one on your back right says something quietly, and the ringleader holding your cuffs barks something back angrily.

Then it hits you: these guys are nervous. They haven’t been here before. They’re hesitating to go into the unknown entrance in front of you. These guys are probably a hired third party. The man holding your cuffs shouts something else, startling you and breaking your train of thought. He pulls the cuffs forward as he walks and you’re forced to follow. You hear three pairs of hesitant footsteps behind you.

It only takes a few seconds for you to realize why three of the four men got cold feet at the door. It’s dark in here. The sunlight that was able to pierce through the dark fabric of the hood lessens in intensity the further you’re dragged into the room. As the sounds of the ocean outside get further and further away and you’re questioning what kind of building could possibly be this large.

There’s nervous dissent among the three kidnappers behind you when the big metal door starts closing, but another angry remark from the leader shuts them up. You’re led further and further into the room. You hear yours and your kidnapper’s footsteps echoing around the cavernous room, but the sound gradually reverberates less and less the closer you’re led to bright lights on the other end of the room. The darkness under your hood lessens and grows surprisingly brighter until you’re forced to stop. The ringleader in front of you clears his throat, and pushes you forward slightly. He speaks like a game show host presenting the grand prize, the forced showmanship feeling out of place in the empty environment. A higher pitched, lilting male voice responds over a speaker overhead. Unimpressed. The ringleader tries to keep up the act, but is quickly shut down again.

You hear the higher pitched voice bark out something that sounds like an order, you hear a huff from the leader next to you, then the black hood is ripped off your head. Your eyes are immediately assaulted with bright, military grade lights pointing in your direction. You try to blink away the blindness, but even after getting used to not being in almost complete darkness, you can only make out the silhouette of a wiry man and a bulkier man with some kind of rifle standing next to him in an observation chamber above you. You see the wiry man nod his head in approval. He leans forward and you hear a polite, lightly accented higher pitched voice over the speaker.

“Welcome Doctor. It’s truly a pleasure to meet you.”

You don’t recognize the voice, so you elect keep your expression neutral. “It’s a pleasure to be here.” You reply flatly, clearly wanting to be anywhere else.

“I do apologize for your long journey. But some things just can’t be helped. These kind gentlemen will show you to your accommodations.”

At first, you think he’s referring to your kidnappers, but then you see two soldiers walk out from the darkness in front of you. They’re dressed in black, military style gear and wear something similar to a gas mask on their faces. They’re also holding electric batons. You look around. Your kidnappers are dressed in street clothes and appear close to middle age. Maybe you should have taken your chances with them outside. As the soldiers walk out of the shadows, the lead kidnapper holding you by your cuffs, the oldest by the looks of him, gestures to the wiry man above you all and starts almost shouting in a firm tone while alternating between rubbing his fingertips together and an ‘okay’ symbol. Payment.

The wiry man’s silhouette presses a button on the console in front of him in the booth, and more lights come on to your left. Crates. Lots of them. You don’t know what’s inside from this distance, but judging by the smile on the lead kidnapper’s face the payment is more than satisfactory. The previous nervous tension among the four men is completely eradicated. The nervous one that spoke before tosses a small set of keys to one of the soldiers, the lead kidnapper pushes you forward towards the other soldier, and all four of the men head over to the crates to check out their bounty.

You see the soldier with the key place it in one of the pockets on the front of his uniform and walk back towards the darkness, while the other places you in front of him with a firm hand on your shoulder and walks you forward. You’re in complete darkness for a few paces before you’re blinded again by a pair of industrial elevator doors opening and shadows walking towards you.

You realize the two escorting you are guards at best, not soldiers. The squad in front of you is armed with much more deadly weapons; you recognize pistols and semi-automatic TMP’s as the group marches past you back into the warehouse-type room with your original kidnappers. You don’t have long to wonder why they’re marching back into the room. Just as the doors to the elevator are closing, you hear the confused shouts of your kidnappers get cut short by rapid gunfire.

No witnesses. That’s never good.

You’re not in the elevator for long. The doors open to reveal a long hallway with more industrial style architecture. The guard in front of you starts walking forward and the guard behind you lightly pushes you to follow. His presence behind you makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

As you’re ushered forward, it feels like you’re walking through a cross between an old factory and one of the old Umbrella labs. Some things appear to be 40 years old or more, and other things, such as the doors, have been updated to be futuristic sliding electric doors with keypads for additional security. The wheels are turning in your head on what this place of operations could possibly be, but you don’t have enough information to make any solid conclusions yet.

The guard in front of you scans a key card on the panel next to the door, it beeps, then the door gracefully slides open to reveal another hallway similar to the last one, but completely renovated; bright white and futuristic. The architect clearly took inspiration from the old Umbrella labs.

About halfway down the new hallway, you realize you don’t feel the presence of the guard behind you anymore. You look over your shoulder and stop in your tracks when you see the guard unconscious on the ground a few feet away.

Huh. How’d that happen?

When you stop walking, the guard in front of you turns around, probably to get you to keep moving to whatever cell these people have prepared for you. But as soon as the guard turns around, you see a gray blur drop from the ceiling out of the corner of your eye. The gray blur, a ginger headed man, punches the guard, which makes the guard stumble but he regains his footing quickly. They exchange a few attempts at hitting each other; the guard tries to swing the electric baton but the mystery man dodges the attempted strike. The mystery man gets a few good punches in and successfully disarms the guard, but the guard is able to catch the man’s wrist, the guard then uses his forearm as leverage to pin the man to the wall. It looks the guard is trying to cut off the mystery man’s air circulation, but the man has enough strength and fighting know-how to not get knocked out.

For a moment, you don’t know what to do. You don’t recognize the new man. The only thing you know is that he’s a skilled fighter, and the other guard isn’t going down easy. You also know you can’t escape by yourself, and the B.S.A.A. doesn’t know where you are.

Help the stranger it is.

You run over to the unconscious guard and grab his electric baton and grip it the best you can with your hands bound together. The mystery man is still pinned to the wall by the guard and is trying to wiggle free.

You sprint down the hall, wind up the prod, and smack the guard on the side of the head. The guard doesn’t go down like you hoped, but the shock of you hitting him with the baton gives the mystery man enough time to grab the guard with both hands and ram him into the wall, knocking him out cold.

“You good?” You ask, somewhat out of breath.

The man stretches his neck and arms, nodding his head. “Never better. Thanks for that.”

Now that the man isn’t brawling with the guards, you get a better look at him.

A nagging sense of familiarity emerges in the back of your mind. You’re positive you haven’t met this man before. You couldn’t have. You would have remembered the large diagonal scar on the left side of his face that stretches from the junction of his cheek and nose all the way down to his jaw, or the buzzed ginger hair. Those features aren’t exactly forgettable, yet some detail that you can’t put your finger on in the moment keeps tugging at your memory.

You shake off the feeling. You can sort that out later, but right now you have more binding things to focus on. You hold out your wrists, still bound in the cuffs.

“No problem. Mind returning the favor? The key’s in his chest pocket.” You point your chin to the guard that you shocked.

“Sure thing.”

Jake saunters over to the guard, rolls the unconscious body over to unzip the front pocket to grab the key, then walks back over to you to start undoing the locks on your cuffs. Jake’s eyes flicker between the lock and your face as he does so.

“So… you’re the hot shot scientist.”

It’s more of a statement than a question. You narrow your eyes. Jake easily unlocks the first cuff and begins to work on the second one.

“That depends… who’s asking?”

“Name’s Jake.”

Knowing his name doesn’t help you place this man’s face. You stay silent and wait for Jake to keep going and give you a last name or the company he works for, but instead he unlocks the second cuff and tosses them away, looking at you expectantly with an easy smirk.

“This is the part where you tell me your name.”

“Not before you tell me why you’re here.” When in doubt, be on the side of caution. Just because this man helped you, doesn’t mean he’s on your side. You rub your wrists, trying to get rid of the sting of the cuffs being on your wrists for so long.

“Just a little… preventative maintenance for a friend. You got a name?”

You purse your lips, trying to get a read on what Jake means by ‘preventative maintenance.’ He took out the guards, so unless he’s going for a long con, he doesn’t work for the people who took you. Most mercenaries wouldn’t rescue someone on a job unless it’s in their contract, although any good murder for hire would know what their target looked like before accepting the job. You’re willing to bet his intentions are most likely in line with your own. You relax your shoulders.

“Just call me Doc. And yeah, I’m the virologist.”

The cavalier attitude Jake is exuding shifts slightly and for a moment you think he’s connected the dots on who you are, but instead Jake’s attitude morphs into optimistic determination.

“You know the periodic table?”

You stand there, confused and trying to figure out why he’s thinking about something so out of left field, but coming up with nothing. You answer honestly. “Uh… yes?”

A satisfied smirk stretches across his face. “Good. I could use your help. C’mon.”

Jake strides over to a specific section of wall and presses an unassuming panel on it. A keypad pops out and Jake starts to type on it while you stay in your spot processing what just happened.

“Excuse you, I don’t remember volunteering my expertise!”

“What’s the hold up Doc?” Jake finishes inputting the number sequence and you hear a hiss, something metal releasing, the panel of wall that you now realize is a hidden door sliding back a couple inches, then the wall panel sliding to the left to reveal an industrial staircase winding downward. Jake turns back to you, a cavalier expression on his face. “You got something planned already with sleeping beauty over there? Or are you coming with me?”

Jake gestures to the guard you electrocuted on the floor. You look at the guard, then the other one further down the hall, then back to Jake. “Lucky for you, my plans just got canceled. Let’s go.”

It only takes a few minutes to figure out that Jake knows his way around this place. The staircase leads to another series of dingy hallways that Jake saunters through with confidence. Either he’d already figured out these sections weren’t closely guarded, or he’d taken measures to make sure he wouldn’t have to worry about surveillance. Either way, you’re relieved to be in the presence of someone who knows what they’re doing and isn’t trying to hold you hostage.

“So… you didn’t say who you work for.”

Jake thinks about his answer, then shrugs and keeps walking. “I consider myself an independent contractor. But right now, I’m on the B.S.A.A.’s payroll.”

“Really? You don’t strike me as B.S.A.A.” You know for a fact that the B.S.A.A. recruits almost exclusively from armies around the world. Army life causes soldiers to have a certain disposition. A certain disciplined way of carrying oneself resulting from years of drills and training. Jake’s body language felt much too relaxed for that lifestyle.

“I’m consulting.”

You give the man a half smile hearing that. The way Jake said that made it sound like he wasn’t exactly happy about it, but accepted the job nonetheless. Something you could easily relate to. “What a coincidence, so am I.”

“For viruses? You some kind of expert on bioweapons?”

You shrug and keep following Jake. “I’ve got a good amount of practical experience.” It’s a true but vague statement. Jake doesn’t need to know the details of why you know so much. Any mention of your past with Umbrella or Wesker never ends well with strangers.

Jake looks over his shoulder with an eyebrow raised. “Don’t give me that humble bullshit.”

You scoff and smile. Definitely not army. “Okay. You’d be hard pressed to find someone who knew more. Better? What do you need to know?”

“Give me a rundown of the G-Virus.”

You don't answer for a long moment, stunned. “The G? These guys went through the trouble to get me here for that?” Your tone is incredulous.

“What?” Jake doesn’t sound confused at your reaction. Only curious.

“It’s just… unstable and obsolete compared to other bioweapons. It’s not exactly competitive against strains nowadays where infected can tell the difference between enemy and ally.”

“Obsolete huh? What’s your theory on why they have it all the way out here then?”

“They’re… low on funding and have limited options? Or they didn’t care what they’re buying.”

You pause, realizing Jake can fill in some missing information for you. “And who are ‘they’ and what is ‘here?’ I didn’t get a good look at anything on my way in.”

Jake chuckles and shakes his head. “You must piss off a lot of people.”

You roll your eyes at Jake’s comment and keep following him. “You don’t have to be an ass about it.”

“Not judging, I respect it. I’m on a fair share of shit lists myself.”

“If you don’t know the answers, you can just be honest about it.”

“Alright alright. Technically, we’re in Japan, but it’s more of a small as shit island in the Pacific. I was told this was a former Umbrella research outpost.”

You scrunch your brows in confusion. “I didn’t know they had labs this far out from the mainland.”

“Neither did I, but ya learn something new every day.”

Eventually, the dingy hallways and platforms lead to another mechanical door that reveals another white hallway not unlike the ones you remember from Umbrella’s previous headquarters in Raccoon City. You don’t have much time to reminisce as you follow Jake to a door at the end of the hall.

The room you enter is somewhat dated. The equipment here looks like it came straight out of the 90’s, but with some modern updates in a few choice sections. Jake ignores all of that in favor of leading you to the other side of the room where a mechanical door and a keypad are waiting. The door is notably one of the only things in the room that’s been updated.

“Mind taking a crack at this Doc?”

Jake hands you a note with an Umbrella header on it:

Pierre if you’re reading this, I’ve changed the password to the specimen room. I know it impedes business to change it so frequently, but the boss insists on the highest level of security due to the nature of the special project. The new password is your namesake element on the periodic table. Just type in the atomic number and weight in that order. Don’t mess it up again. That damn alarm will lock everything down and Aimi nearly blew a gasket the last time I had to get the security key to disable it again.

“You brought me here for this? Seriously?” You look at Jake like a disappointed mother. Do schools not teach the manmade elements in chemistry anymore? In your mind, you think that Jake went a little overboard bringing someone with a PHD to solve a periodic table puzzle. Jake doesn’t react to your question. He just keeps up the cavalier attitude.

“So you can solve it.”

“You know Google exists, right?” You reply, deadpan.

“No service in the middle of the ocean. Are you going to help me out or not?”

You scoff at the comment, then hand the note back to him and stride to one of the bookshelves. “Yes. It’s Curium.” You thumb through the spines trying to find a chemistry book of some kind.

“But his name’s Pierre. You sure?”

You find a ratty chemistry book with university library stickers all over the spine. Bingo. You pull it out and flip through the back pages, finally finding what you were looking for: a periodic table.

“Pierre Curie and Marie Curie discovered the element. That’s the answer. Type in 96247.”

You snap the book shut and you hear Jake typing in the code on the door. Now that Jake’s errand is almost done, it’s time to get the hell out of Dodge. Or the ocean in this case.

“After you run your maintenance we need to find a radio, or a ride out of here. I don’t want to be in the middle of nowhere longer than I need to be.”

“I’m no travel agent, but I think that can be arranged.”

You turn to join him, but a logo on some papers scattered around on the desk by the bookshelf catches your eye; a Tricell logo. Your eyebrows scrunch together. Albert partnered with Tricell for the Uroboros project and the company has been defunct since Africa happened four years prior. Why is that logo here of all places?

You hear a beep behind you and a mechanical door sliding open with a soft hiss as you pour over the documents. They’re copies of internal documents relating to the development of the Africa strain of Plaga parasites with yellow highlights all over them. A large label that reads ‘G – U’ stuck on a keycard is blocking one of the notes so you move it to the side. More concerningly, the only things you see highlighted are locations of labs and sites of infection with handwritten margin notes in Kanji that you don’t understand.

“Hey uh, Doc?” Jake is calling you from inside the room that was unlocked.

“Hm?” You respond, still half-focusing on the Tricell documents.

“I don’t think these guys had limited options.”

A sense of dread starts to form in the back of your mind when Jake says that. You speed walk over to the now accessible room. It’s a large, white room with rows of what look like display cases. You see Jake looking through the glass and into display on the other side of it. You walk up next to him to look for yourself and your heart drops to your stomach when you see what he’s talking about.

On the other side of the glass, you see a complete family of Plaga parasite strains. As you walk down the aisle, you see the original strain from Spain, all the way to the newest strain that popped up in Edonia a couple years back. Although to your relief, you see that the Amber strain which allows the infected to have both strength and free will isn’t displayed.

You glance at the aisle behind the Plaga parasite display. You immediately recognize the familiar T-Virus series. It’s concerning how thorough the collection is. Even without reading the placards underneath each sample, you recognize the strain that caused the outbreak at the Spencer Mansion, the T-Abyss virus from a few years ago, a few different failed strands from the Marcus-Birkin projects, among dozens more. You feel your heart skip a beat when you see the T-VERONICA placard, but you relax when you see that the sample holder is empty.

“Doc? Talk to me what’re you thinking?”

Even with the display cases missing a few of the more powerful specimens, it was still the most comprehensive collection of viruses and parasites in a single place that you’d seen in your career.

“They nearly have the whole damn catalogue in here.” Your tone is grim. Samples as comprehensive as this can only spell something bad on the horizon, but you’re not too sure what.

“I don’t understand what their play is here.” You state, still walking along the T-Strain aisle and examining each sample. Your footsteps echo around the room from the grate flooring. Based on the setup, each one appears to be a live sample.

“I think I do. They’re trying to be a one stop shop for bioweapons and this is the showroom.” Jake spits in disgust.

At first glance, Jake’s observation appears correct. But upon closer examination, that conclusion doesn’t quite fit. You slowly walk along the aisle and look at Jake through the glass in the aisle opposite. He’s examining the strains in the G-Sample section, looking back and forth from the samples in front of him and his phone.

“I want to agree with you, but I don’t think that’s it.”

Jake stops and looks at you confused. “Why?”

“They don’t have nearly enough inventory. These are samples. An unusually comprehensive collection of samples, but there’s only one of each.”

Jake shrugs. “Maybe it’s somewhere else.”

Again, a logical conclusion that doesn’t quite fit. “Outside of this facility? Possible. Here? There would have to be at least a few dozen rooms like this to store everything properly.”

You stop walking.

“And logistically, it just doesn’t make sense. We’re practically in the middle of nowhere. Why would a business owner put their showroom in one of the most difficult to reach places on the planet? You would think they’d want to make it easy for the buyer to review product, as well as convenient for the owner to ship out that product. Someone wanting to be a one-stop-shop would be on the mainland.“

You pause, an icy feeling washing over you. The bag on your head during your transport here and the execution of your kidnappers suddenly makes a lot more sense. 

“These people don’t want to be found.”

Jake’s eyes flick from his phone to your face. “So they’re working on something big. A new G-virus?”

You shift on your feet shaking your head while looking over the G-Virus samples. “Yes to the big project, no to the G. Whatever it is, it’s not down here.”

“You sure about that? This one’s missing.” Jake holds his phone up to the glass so you can see on the other side of the G-Sample row. Jake’s correct this time: this specific strain isn’t displayed. You tilt your head in confusion.

“That’s not a strand I recognize.” At first glance, you know it's an unusual strand of G-Virus. G-Viruses are normally green in color, but this one is a sickly pink.

Jake grunts, shaking his head and pocketing the phone. “It’s never that simple. Is it? An all-inclusive virus buffet and one of the only one that's missing is the one I need.”

Jake pulls out a pistol you didn’t know he had, checks the clip to make sure it’s fully loaded, then holds it down by his side as he strides out of the room.

“Where you headed?” You call after him.

“Main lab upstairs. I’ll come get ya after I’ve got the G-sample.” He answers over his shoulder.

“Absolutely not!” You reply in disbelief and Jake stops walking, sighing in annoyance. He can’t seriously think he can take on the army upstairs with just a pistol. You try to talk some sense into him.

“We need to find a radio and get the B.S.A.A. here. These people will kill you no questions asked if they see you. Plus, that handgun of yours isn’t going to cut it against their hardware.”

Jake shrugs his shoulders, unconcerned. “I’ve had worse odds.”

“That doesn’t make lone wolfing this any less stupid! There’s a base in Tokyo, we just need to find a way to contact them-”

You stop talking abruptly when you catch a glimpse of a dangerously familiar sample. The one that changed the course of your life for the worse. The one that your dead husband tried and failed to infect the planet with. The name UROBOROS is proudly displayed at the end of the G-Virus aisle in the back, nearly drowned out by the sheer number of G-Virus samples.

You hear Jake saying something to the effect of ‘I’ll be back before they even know I’m there’ but you’re not registering what he’s saying. Your vision has tunneled to only focus on that devil sample. All it takes is one slip up by a careless scientist to infect this whole place. You think back to the keycard in the other room by the Tricell papers; ‘G – U.’ G-Virus to Uroboros. This time can be different. You have the power and knowledge to stop this.

“Hey? Earth to Doc? You still with me over there?”

“That needs to be destroyed.” Your voice is barely above a whisper as you stare at the Uroboros sample. You keep your eyes on the sample for a few steps, then brush past Jake to rush into the other room to find supplies; some kind of glass beaker, metal garbage can, something to contain the damned thing when you burn it to ash.

As you begin nearly tearing the lab apart in your barely controlled frenzy, Jake steps back into the sample room to look at what has you so distressed.

“Uroboros? That’s the uh… it’s not a G-Virus is it?”

You open a cabinet and find a large glass beaker. You grab it and set it on the counter and keep looking for more supplies.

“Yes! Now less talking and more helping. There’s Bunsen burners here, so there has to be some matches-”

“Can't this wait? Is it really any worse than the other ones?”

You aggressively close some drawers as you turn back to Jake with a serious glare.

“Albert Wesker. Heard of him?” Your voice is low and controlled.

Jake’s face melts into a barely hidden look of disdain. “Yeah, I have.”

“He tried to use it to cleanse the world, as he put it. He spent years injecting innocent people with that and he was the only one who didn’t turn into a flesh-eating worm thing.”

You open more drawers and find a cleaning cabinet with a half full container of rubbing alcohol. You grab it, along with a pair of cleaning gloves, and set them next to the beaker. You start soaking random bits of scrap paper with the liquid and stuff it into the beaker.

“Not only that, he tried to launch that shit into the atmosphere with a deranged smile on his face. It nearly ended the world once and that’s not something I, or anyone, needs to deal with again.”

You put another splash of rubbing alcohol into the beaker for good measure then forcefully put the bottle on the table causing it to spill some of the liquid on the table. It doesn’t slow you down. You quickly put on the cleaning gloves and dig through the drawers around the lab looking for a lighter or matches. Smoking isn’t rare in Japan so one of those items must be here somewhere.

“So Wesker had special blood?” If you were paying closer attention to the way Jake said that, you would have easily picked up that he knew more than he was letting on. But you don’t. You’re too busy trying to get rid of a dormant threat sitting in the other room. You answer without thinking while opening more drawers by the bookshelf.

“Genetically, he was one in a trillion. But even with that, he still had to take doses of the virus periodically to keep it stable. All the more reason to nip this in the bud before it becomes a problem again.”

“You know a lot about this.” A statement of fact, not a question.

“Yeah, I do!” You exclaim dramatically as you slam a cabinet shut when there, once again, aren’t any matches. You’re so frustrated that Jake is asking so many questions and won’t just help you.

“You knew him.” Another statement of fact, not a question. His eyes are dissecting your every move now. The look vaguely reminds you of Albert and you feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Albert used to look at you like that when he wanted to know if you were lying or gauging your reaction to something he told you. You shake off the feeling. The Uroboros discovery is making you paranoid.                                                                                            

You sigh and shift on your feet, leaning back against the cabinet with your eyes on the ceiling. The scent of rubbing alcohol is strong in the silent room. You shift your eyes to Jake’s after a long moment. His expression is nearly unreadable, but there’s an underlying edge in his posture now. He knows. Not everything, but he’s catching on to why you’re so passionate about this. There’s no use lying about it.

“I knew him…well, okay? At least I thought I did before all the crazy. But right now we have more important things to do than rehash my history.”

You force yourself to tear away from Jake’s calculating gaze and resume your search.

“I nee-… we need matches. Can you just help me look please?”

You don’t hear a response behind you, and you think that Jake is going to keep asking you questions. But after you open a few more drawers you hear a rustle of fabric and a metallic tink.

“Use this.”

Your head whips over to Jake and a wave of relief washes over you. Then annoyance.

He’s holding a lighter.

He had that the whole damn time you were tearing through the lab looking for matches.

You decide it’s best to hold off on scolding him until after you get rid of the Uroboros sample. Instead, you take the lighter with a gruff thank you. You grab your supplies along with the ‘G - U’ keycard and head back into the sample room.

You enter the room with newfound determination. You couldn’t stop Uroboros on your own all those years ago, but this time it’s different. You’re stopping a disaster before it has a chance to start. You place your supplies on the floor next to the case, preparing to immediately plop the Uroboros sample into the beaker. In your peripheral vision, you notice Jake leaning against the doorframe, watching your every move.

You scan the card.

Instead of the glass sliding down into the base like you expected, it stops a quarter of the way down when a deafening alarm sounds overhead and Jake is forced off of the mechanical door when it reels shut. Before you can even call out to him, gas starts pouring into the room from the grates on the floor.

All senses of self-preservation leave you in this moment. Thousands of years of survival instinct telling you to run and claw at the door and scream for help is ignored because, once again, your thoughts are only consumed by the existence of the Uroboros sample. Possessed by only one thought: you can’t fail to stop this again. You couldn’t justify something as trivial as your own survival if it meant there was a sliver of a chance of something like Africa happening again.

You force yourself to focus, even though it’s getting so much more difficult with your mind starting to cloud from the gas. You hold your breath to prolong consciousness. There’s enough space between the glass and the edge of the case that you can squeeze your arm in and grab the damned sample. You can hear Jake banging on the door shouting your name, but his voice sounds so far away as you force the sample from its display rod and gracelessly sink to your knees.

Your hand feels unwieldy and heavy as you drop the sample into the glass beaker. Even more so as you try and fail to roll the lighter wheel fast enough to make a flame. You rip off a cleaning glove to get a better grip and you keep trying. You have to. This needs to work. You can’t fail again. You won’t fail again.

You pause to finally take a breath and force yourself not to cough from the downright bone numbing gas that’s still filling the room. Your vision is starting to blacken at the edges and your body slumps so much that you’re resting on your stomach, so you make a conscious effort to tighten your grip as hard as you can on the lighter and roll the wheel. A small flame erupts from the lighter. With a shaking hand you thrust it into the beaker and the alcohol-soaked kindling erupts into flame. You barely notice the sting of the flames against your hand when you retract it.

Everything feels heavy. You finally let your body resign to the gas and let your head rest on the ground. With each shallow breath, the darkness at the edge of your vision grows more and more prominent. You don’t hear Jake anymore, but you do hear indiscernible voices on the other side of the wall getting farther and farther away and loud pops. Gunfire? Or Jake banging on the door?

The last thing you remember seeing before the darkness overtakes your vision are blackened remains in a glass beaker and a pair of unfamiliar, polished shoes slowly walking towards you.

__________________________________

Thanks for reading!

Tag List: @killerwendigo

a/n 2: I really hate doing filler/transition chapters as a principle, but I promise that it's very necessary for what's coming. Chris x Reader is going to be on the backburner for a couple parts but I assure you he's coming back and it will feel rewarding when he does.

AO3 link for this part.

[obstinaterixatrix]

Sherbet knows she might run into pirates or sea monsters on her voyage, but what spooks her most is the ghost ship rumored to kidnap people. Although she’s relieved to hear that it only takes them for a special reason, she soon wakes up on the infamous vessel without any clue why! Despite her initial despair, however, Sherbet is delighted to find the grumpy but hot pirate, Granita, on board with her. On the other hand, Granita finds hell in the form of the bubbly little terror who can’t seem to keep her hands and innuendos to herself...

here’s an ongoing f/f webtoon that is. hysterical, unhinged, and dumb as hell (affectionate)

sherbet is a young aristocratic lady and huge lesbian on her unenthusiastic way to an arranged marriage, granita is a ruthless pirate captain, they’re stuck on a ghost ship together

the art is really good and the writing is SO funny. like, here’s something from chapter 3

and here’s a follow-up from chapter 4

anyway, it’s primarily comedic with some drama and pathos thrown in for spice, and the tonal shifts can be wild—There’s Definitely Something Deeper Going On and I love the looming threat of plot and sincerity. good for folks who want high energy comedy between two adult women who each think they’re in vastly different genres

[journey-to-the-attic]

lucifer's never gonna recover from this

[amethystina]

Hi! Thou Shalt Not Covet got me craving for more and thinking... what do you think is the difference between Ga On and Yo Han's jealousy? When would they feel most threatened? Also, how far do you think they would go in terms of their possessiveness?

Would love to read more about that 🙃

Hi there 💜

I think the biggest difference is that Ga On's jealousy is more internal while Yo Han's is more external. Like, Ga On becomes introspective, picks everything apart, and overthinks things, trying to figure out why this is happening and, not so surprisingly, what he did wrong to make it happen. Because even if Ga On would be angry and probably pretty vicious, he'd still focus a lot on his own "blame" and start wondering why he's not good enough. All those abandonment issues would kick in and he'd come up with a number of theories and what he thinks are answers — but they're all just speculations.

And, because of that, I don't think Ga On would really lash out against Yo Han and whoever's making him feel jealous. Or, well, with words and such, sure — and clearly mark the boundaries if he and Yo Han are a couple and someone is encroaching on his territory — but not by causing physical harm. Ga On's jealousy is more bark than bite, basically. Because somewhere deep down he'd be convinced he's just not good enough and that's not a reason to hurt someone else over. It's Ga On's own fault for not being lovable enough, right?

So while he'd get snappish and rude, he'd never act on it in a threatening or malicious way.

Yo Han, on the other hand — oh boy.

I did answer an ask about how Yo Han would react if he ever had a reason to suspect that Ga On was cheating on him and all of that still stands. I think Yo Han would focus all his ire outwards, the jealousy becoming a weapon to hurt others rather than himself (as opposed to Ga On who internalises it all and ends up hurting himself rather than others). That's not to say that Yo Han wouldn't have some angsty moments where he bemoans the fact that he's a monster and, clearly, no one can love him, but those aren't his main focus.

His main focus would be making life difficult for Ga On and whoever's making Yo Han jealous. And as for whether or not Yo Han would go far enough to kill? Uh, I mean... that depends on the situation? x'D

Ga On? Never.

(though Yo Han might just lock him away and throw away the key)

The other person? He'd be tempted.

But it would have to be an extreme situation, I think. Because killing someone he perceives as a romantic rival would, in some ways, be an admission of weakness. It would mean that Ga On has an incredible amount of power over Yo Han and I don't think that he'd be willing to admit that Ga On's choices can influence Yo Han's decisions to that degree. Especially if he thinks that Ga On has betrayed him by falling in love with someone else. That would mean that Yo Han has to admit to himself that he's pining after someone who's not his — which would hurt his pride something terrible.

So, in the long run, while Yo Han is certainly capable of murdering someone he considers a romantic rival, I don't think he would. Because it's beneath him. He's not that interested or invested in Ga On.

(except yes he is — he's just a grumpy old man who refuses to admit it to himself)

As for when they'd feel most threatened, I think it would be before they get together or just shortly after they get together. Once they've been a couple for years and settled down, I don't think jealousy is going to be much of an issue for them. Because they'll both know that there's no way in hell either of them is stupid enough to throw away what they have, given how well-matched they are. They know there's no one else who can give them exactly what they need.

And, like, if they have kids? Fuck no.

Both Ga On and Yo Han would go: "No, he loves the kids and me too much to cheat" and that's that. I mean, sure, there might still be brief moments when they have to get a little possessive when a third party is being too flirty, but neither of them would actually think that the other is going to respond to that flirting and start straying.

(partly because I suspect that they have an unspoken agreement of: "if you do cheat on me I'll take the kids and spend the rest of my days making your life a living hell" but that sounds a lot less romantic)

But at the beginning? Or just after they get together? There would definitely be more to worry about.

And their weak spots are connected to their overall insecurities. So Ga On would be afraid that he's not good enough, not lovable enough, not smart enough, not experienced enough etc. He's not very glamorous or suave and pretty shy and clumsy about sex at first. He'd worry that he can't give Yo Han what he needs and that he'll eventually become a burden or that Yo Han will grow bored of him. He'd feel clingy and desperate and wonder if, just maybe, Yo Han wants someone more like himself — someone calm, rational, and mature. So just the usual abandonment and self-esteem issues cranked up to a toasty fifteen, basically.

Yo Han, meanwhile, would feel threatened at the thought of not being able to give Ga On the life and love he deserves. Yo Han is nothing if not self-aware and he knows that living with him is difficult, so he'd worry that someone might come along and show Ga On that he can find a better, sweeter, and kinder life elsewhere. Yo Han would worry that he's hurting Ga On by holding on to him and that, maybe, Ga On will realise that too someday and choose someone better. Someone who can love him and support him and care for him in a way that Yo Han can't with all his jagged edges. That was probably why he felt so threatened by Soo Hyun — she could give Ga On a life full of love and light and softness, whereas Yo Han can only offer darkness. And Ga On deserves better.

Again, it all depends a bit on the situation, though. Like, different insecurities rise to the forefront depending on where they are in their relationship and what the exact situation is.

But something like that, I guess?

I admit I've debated whether or not to write a fic based on that ask about Yo Han being jealous but goddamn it would hurt so maybe not x'D I don't like hurting myself (or Ga On) like that.

I've also toyed with the idea of writing Yo Han's POV of Thou Shalt Not Covet partly because I think it's hilarious just how confused he was there for a second. But that also means I'd have to write out Yo Han's thoughts and not all of them were pretty or kind. He's not a nice man — even less so when Ga On gives him such a perfect opening for some manipulation that will result in Ga On staying by his side >_>

So we'll see. It's not very high on my list of priorities right now since I have so many other projects I want to focus on.

Thank you so much for the ask! Please take care 💜

[emsylcatac]

You know how in irl scandals when a famous rich white man is revealed to have done something really really bad, whatever it is - and despite the amount of proof, people are still split between turning against him or supporting him and thinking the scandal is a fraud

Imagine that if Gabriel is revealed to be Monarch and not some self-sacrificing hero. Fashion events in Paris will still be made in Gabriel's honour despite the revelation. Some people will call that out, outraged that a terrorist & child abuser is being honoured. Some will say you gotta separate the man from the artist. Others will say it's all lies and a wild conspiracy, because "Ladybug said so and she wouldn't lie to us", or because Gabriel always was an "honest man and would never do that". Another part might mistrust Ladybug, while others might defend her. Some might wonder if Adrien's part of it all, some might defend him. Some won't care at all about any of this and will just happily live their life now back to normal.

And "Lila" (whoever her name is) will look at all this mess and have a lot lot of fun 😊

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

Outdrawn

f/f contemporary romance

two cartoonist who’ve been rivals since uni, and now have competing webcomics online, have to work together on the relaunch of a cult classic at the comic press they both work at

they both struggle with art-related physical and mental health issues, and complicated families

[detshin]

Can you imagine Gosho does introduce Kazuha's mom next chapter and she ends up being yet another detective or police officer or something like that? HAHAHAHAHAHAHA I WOULD LOSE MY MIND PLEASE DON'T-

[thedeerman]

hey chat not gonna lie, the fact that i decided to post DYWTK chapters twice a week means that i've already written like three fucking weeks of content and I am so fucking impatient guys. Im so impatient. so uh, yeah. I might be upping that to three chapters a week for my own sanity lmao

[voraciousvore]

Giganterra (Chapter 39)

Prologue/ TOC | Previous (38) | Next (40)

Content Warning: NSFW/ 18+ for brief giantess sex scene; vulgar language

Word Count: 1.9k

------ Chapter 39: Reflection ------

Ever since Bianca had been snubbed by Ray, and insulted by her brother, she had wallowed in the mess of her own making. She isolated herself from the rest of her family and the servants, receding into her private chambers whenever possible. She was further offended when nobody seemed to care about her absence, not even her father. She became moody and depressed and took out her feelings vindictively on her tiny man-slaves, especially Cesar, since he had also slighted her. Rather than reflect, she doubled down on indulging her selfish desires. 

After a particularly rough day, she chose Cesar for a session of furious masturbation before bed. She grabbed him out of the human enclosure, flopped down on her bed, and slid him up the soft skin of her thigh under her dress, until he was pressed against her hot, wet genitals. She grinded her dripping pussy on him, rubbed him all over her clit, and shoved him up inside her hole, plunging him in and out to stimulate herself. She wanted to feel something pleasurable, anything, in the endless wasteland of despair. Cesar emptied his balls inside her with alacrity as he thrust his hard dick against the slick inner walls of her vagina. Despite his dislike of the spoiled princess as a person, he couldn’t deny that she was physically hot as hell, and he enjoyed having sex with her, even if he was just being used like a dildo. 

When she was done, she fished him out from under her dress and released him back with the other two in the dollhouse. Cesar, soaked in fluid, marched over to Graham and dropped a slimy object into his lap. Graham jolted back. “Eww! Cesar, what the fuck is that?” 

“Your glasses,” he replied simply. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” 

“Nope. They were stuffed up inside her pretty deep.” 

“Ugh. I don’t know if I want them anymore…” Graham pinched the spectacles with revulsion between two fingers and held them out at arm’s length. “It’s not worth it, even to see clearly again. What am I going to be looking at anyways, other than that gigantic cunt?” He squinted. “Looks like the lenses are broken anyways. No surprise there.” He tossed them away in the corner with disgust. 

Plaintive whimpers began to emanate from the giantess’s bed. Gio rolled his eyes with the upmost contempt. “Oh boy, here we go again. No sleep for us tonight.” He groaned and rubbed his face as her moans escalated into lugubrious wails. “I wish she’d just get it out of her system and shut up already.” 

Cesar shrugged and went to take a hot bath. His brain was buzzing with the pleasant dopamine of erotic release. He dunked himself in the water and washed off the thick coat of goop with a copious quantity of soap. As he dried himself off, he listened to Bianca’s full-bodied sobs, magnified by her huge size. He shook his head and rejoined the others in the bedroom. Gio and Graham had cotton stuffed in their ears and pillows clamped over their heads to drown out the deafening howls as they tried to sleep.  

Cesar sighed and looked out the glass wall to the massive bed. The giantess was facing away from him with her face buried in her arms, bare ass sticking up in the air as her dress rode up her waist. She was, quite frankly, pathetic. She’d been inconsolable for almost a week now, bawling her eyes out every day and night. The men had hardly gotten any sleep, with her constant need to take out her anguish on them and sulk in her room. 

He massaged his face with a grunt, pressing his fingertips into his eyelids. He always had a soft spot for women, especially hot women, even if they were insufferable. He was fully aware of his tendency to think with the wrong head, but he was regrettably incorrigible in this regard. He figured it would be in everyone’s best interest if he at least got her to stop crying. He inhaled deeply, then shouted as loud as he could project his voice, “BIANCA!” 

Gio and Graham stiffened, peering out from under their pillows. Bianca cringed and her sobs halted, reduced to pathetic sniffles. She slowly raised her head and turned around, her eyes swollen and puffy. “Huh?” 

“Let’s talk.” 

Bianca raised herself into a sitting position, repositioning her dress with humiliation around her legs. “What?” 

“Take me out of here so we can talk face-to-face.” 

Bianca blew her nose with a tissue and wiped the nonstop leakage from her tear ducts. “Why? You hate me, just like everyone else. What’s the point?” 

Cesar planted his hands on his hips with exasperation. “Would you just do it, woman?! You always have to make everything so difficult!” 

The princess huffed but opened the roof. The two others cowered in their beds as she lowered her enormous hand to collect the fearless man. She deposited him in her lap, wrapping her fingers around him and tousling his curly locks, still damp from his bath, with an elegant fingertip. As annoyed as Cesar was with her constant immaturity, abandoning her felt wrong. He settled down on her squishy, plump thigh. “What’s this about?” 

“Bianca, I know you’re upset that nobody likes you. But have you stopped to consider why that is? For even a second?” 

Bianca gritted her teeth. “Because they’re all jerks.” 

“No, girl! You’re missing the point!” Cesar protested. He paused to collect his thoughts, massaging his temples with irritation. “Did you know how excited I was, to come out and meet you for the first time? I volunteered to be here. Chester rejected me because of my subpar taste, but I hitched a ride on Leon’s ankle and made it here anyways. I put in a lot of effort, you know.” 

“Yeah, so?” 

“So? I wanted to believe you, the beautiful and regal giantess, were everything that I imagined in my wildest fantasies. And at first, you were. Smoking hot, horny, and huge. You drove me wild.” 

Bianca smirked. “Yeah. I remember.” She tickled him teasingly with her fingers. Cesar pushed her hand away. 

“But then... I saw how you treated Graham and Gio.” Her smile faded. “I saw your indifference to their suffering, your selfishness, your petulant whining when you didn’t get your way. I saw how your father coddled you and poisoned you to be a horrible person. It was... disappointing, to say the least. You’re not the woman I hoped you would be.” 

If Bianca had heard him so brashly proclaim those blunt judgements a few days ago, she would’ve hurled him across the room at the wall for his audacity. Now, however, she could only avert her gaze with shame. He was right, of course, and she knew it. Everyone knew it. She couldn’t deny that everything he said was true, as much as it hurt to acknowledge it. 

“Why are you saying all this to me?” she snapped defensively. “Just to hurt me more?” She tensed up with rising anger, but then slumped down on the bed instead, scooping Cesar off her lap and drawing him closer to her chest. She didn’t have the energy to retaliate. 

“No, of course not,” Cesar responded. He set his small hand on one of her fingers curling around him. “I want you to understand, you’re not powerless to change. You CAN become a better person. I want you to be better. I believe in you!” 

Bianca sighed. “I... I don’t know,” she admitted. 

Cesar showed off his pearly whites in a dazzling smile. “It’s not so hard, girl! Start with little things. Be more considerate of the thoughts and feelings of others. Be nice! You’d be surprised. It’s easier than you think. You can’t change the past, and undo what you’ve done, but you can make different choices moving forward.” 

“I guess,” the princess mumbled. 

“Just try, okay? It’s preferable to locking yourself away in your room all day and wallowing in self-pity, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah. I guess so.” She shrugged. 

“I‘ll help you,” Cesar assured her, still smiling. “We’ll get through this together!” 

“Well... okay.” Bianca softened, touched by his empathy. She hadn’t given him any good reason to show kindness towards her, yet he was putting forth the effort to reassure her, even if he didn’t actually like her that much. She appreciated the gesture, especially when everyone else had shunned her. “I’ll try.”  

She wrapped her hands around him tighter and held him to her buxom chest in a hug. She was amused when she saw him blush, despite the fact that he’d literally been inside her in the heat of passion not long ago. She supposed this was quite a different type of intimacy, more tender and sweet. She liked how he made her feel. She felt in control, and not quite so powerless, when she had a tiny man to hold. He was the only one on her side right now. 

The giantess rotated so she was lying on her back, with Cesar perched on her breasts, sheltered by her hand. “It wasn’t always like this, you know,” she reminisced with misty eyes. “I wasn’t always like this.” 

“Oh?” Cesar listened, curious. 

“I had a dashing man who loved me, once,” she continued. “He was one of the servants, not of noble birth, but goodness was he handsome! And funny, and charming, and charismatic, with a blinding smile and the most enchanting blue eyes I’ve ever seen! I have a weakness for those...” She grimaced, briefly, as she was reminded of Ray. 

“But anyways, we engaged in a steamy love affair. I lost my virginity to him. He was my first true love. I adored him, and he cherished me, of course. We were star-crossed lovers. However...” She winced with pain at the distasteful memory. “Daddy found out. He was furious. He disposed of him by publicly beheading him, and forced me to watch him die. He threatened the other male servants with the same fate if they so much as looked at me funny. After that... none of the men wanted to be anywhere near me. I was devastated and bitter, and I felt very alone and unwanted, long after he was gone.” 

“How tragic,” Cesar commented. He rubbed her thumb gently to console her, while ensconced in the curve of her hand. 

“I must confess, I didn’t respond to the whole incident in the... healthiest of ways,” she admitted. “I have my pride, you know? My royal bearing. I didn’t want anyone to think I was going soft, or that I had serious feelings for this man, least of all my father. I pretended like nothing bothered me. I hardened my heart, so it wouldn’t hurt anymore. I didn’t want to bond with anyone else, for fear of losing them. I think... that was a mistake.” 

“I see. Understandable, I suppose.” 

“I just want to be loved,” Bianca expressed. “Is that too much to ask?” 

Cesar winked at her and patted her finger. “Not at all. You just need to work on yourself first.” 

“Mm,” Bianca affirmed. “You’re right.” Somehow, the hollowness inside her didn’t feel quite so empty anymore. She held on to Cesar, who relaxed on the gigantic plush pillows of her boobs as they gently rose and fell with her breathing. She resolved to do better. What did she have to lose, after all? She eventually fell asleep with Cesar laying on top of her. For the first night in days, she slept well.

Chapter 40

Tag List: @yummynomms @tinycoded360

[kyouka-supremacy]

Mmmhhh

[dipplinduo]

Since my laptop is broken and I'm currently under the process of obtaining another one while itching to write and release content, I'm gonna share vibe snippets of upcoming releases:

Sweet & Sour Dipplins Ch 23: Paldan Strait by Twenty Øne Piløts

Bet You'll Fall In Love With Me Ch 8: Song 6 on Sabrina Carpenter's album Short n' Sweet LOL

Okay bye!!!!! 😃

[qoldenskies]

DUDE THIS CW CHAPTER IS FUCKING ME IN THE ASS RN WHY IS THERE NOTHING ON MY OUTLINE .... its okay the adhd pulled me elsewhere and i pruned the www outline so things are more compact/coherent (im excited). ANYWAYS SORRY IF THIS NEXT UPDATE IS SLOW TO COME OUT HRKKK

[seriousbrat]

Do you find it difficult to write for Peter? I imagine it's hard to find the right balance in his characterization, especially considering people will be expecting him to be either totally useless and hated by the group or being totally equal and adored. I do think you do it very well though, he seems pretty realistic and in character imo

Ooh thank you so much for saying so! I really love this question.

The answer is sort of, sometimes! Honestly I don't find his voice difficult at all, I really enjoy writing him, but what I think can be a struggle with Peter is that he isn't a character that (initially) moves the plot along, compared to the others. He follows his friends, he trails behind, he's generally a passive character, so it's hard to give him active things to do within a story. I understand why people have a hard time knowing what to do with him, and either make him exit stage left during most scenes or just kind of eternally hover in the background lol. I know I've done that myself, and honestly, even though I think it was okay in part 2, it's part 3 where his arc really started to come together for me.

I'm obviously talking about the Hogwarts years here, since post-Hogwarts he has a pretty clear arc-- so during the Hogwarts years, it's all about setting up that arc, building up his motivations and foreshadowing his eventual betrayal. The way I see it he's already starting to do things that are basically small-scale versions of the betrayal, but because these actions are so minor they go completely unnoticed by the rest.

In my fic the first major turning point for Peter is during a Death Eater attack in their sixth year, when he turns into a rat and escapes, abandoning his friends who he knows are desperately trying to find him. This is never revealed to the rest of them, and Peter is at this early stage developing a habit of running from conflict and lying to his friends. During his seventh year he feels isolated from his friends and starts spending more time on his own as a rat, even failing to show up for his NEWT and lying about it later-- and in many ways that avoidance of real life is more comfortable for him. Obviously, the most extreme version of avoiding real-life consequences in this way is when he frames Sirius and then spends 12 years living as a rat.

He's terrified-- of losing his friends, of rejection, of failure, of the war-- and yet his fear is shameful to him, because cowardice is considered shameful by the in-group (Sirius and James) so he can't admit it to anyone or really face up to it. Instead he avoids it until it's too late, and then he avoids it some more by turning traitor and then by framing Sirius, then by running to Voldemort, etc etc until his death. It's almost like he's constantly in survival mode and always looking for a way out, while finding himself in situations that he feels are beyond his control but are really a result of his own avoidance.

Personally I did struggle a bit thinking of ways for Peter to move the story along or specific plot points for him during the Hogwarts years, basically ways to make him relevant, but overall I knew he was going to start unraveling early on. Peter's arc is initially very internal, nobody is ever aware of what's truly going on with him so unlike others it's difficult to tie his arc to the main plot-- but at the same time he's very observant, so he's a good vehicle through which to view other characters. He is constantly taking in information and thinking hard about that information, more than anyone else realises, which makes him a very good spy.

It can be difficult to find a balance with Peter though! As you mentioned, his standing in the group is tricky to get right, because it's somewhere between an idyllic, equal friendship and total rejection. They care about him, he is a member of their group, but they can also be disparaging, and they have no idea what's going on with him internally. They aren't consciously overlooking him, but he gets overlooked all the same. I don't think this kind of dynamic is that uncommon in real life tbh.

[beastsovrevelation]

Ava and Adriel are NOT cooperating. I'm writing Ch 2 of And the Sea became Blood. It's meant to be Enemies to Lovers (aka Villain annoys Heroine until she falls in love with him), so they're supposed to lock horns, but they're being civil. For fuck's sake, they're at some party, discussing how neither knew their dad. What is happening here.

Also, I'm not sure what's more scandalous - the fact that Archangel Michael will fall in love with the Antichrist, or the fact that she's bordering on functional alcoholism... She's having a hard time, let her be.

[candyriku]

I unfortunately find myself unable to work on my current Soriku fic today due to my mental state, but I was able to make a bit of a teaser for the next big Soriku fanfiction that will be coming sometime after JTSYS is finished.

You can read it under the cut, but TW for blood, death, and uh, general misery. This has been cathartic for me to write but the whole idea of this fic is that things are impossibly doomed, so be warned - this is not the happy fun zone.

Blood. There was so much blood.

He had smelled it before even seeing it, the metallic scent thick in his nose before he had even rounded the corner. He had tried to convince himself that it was his own bleeding wound that he smelled, or maybe the blood of something else, someone else, but in his heart, he knew the truth. He picked up his pace, sprinting at top speed now, his sneakers splashing through shallow puddles on the wet pavement. 

When his eyes finally came to rest on the crumpled form at the end of the alley, the breath was knocked out of his chest as though someone had taken a baseball bat to his sternum. He knew, of course he knew, but he had hoped-

No. It didn’t matter what he hoped for. Hopes and wishes weren’t for people that walked his path. He had been denied the right to hope for anything ages ago. When he had signed that contract, signed away his soul, he forfeited all the cushy pleasures of a normal life. He had given up his chance of knowing peace.

But it had been worth it. If it was for Sora, anything was worth it.

Standing over Sora’s blood-soaked body, Riku tried to remind himself of that truth, the one thing that he had tethered his heart to all this time. It was worth it. Even if the chance of Sora making it out alive were next to none, there was still a chance. He could still fight.

One of these loops, Riku would get it right. He would figure out how to keep Sora safe, how to protect him from this accursed dimension where everything was designed to end his life. They would break out and live a normal life together, just the way they had always planned. 

There was a happy future waiting somewhere for the two of them. There had to be. Riku had gambled everything on it.

He crouched down, his shaking fingers gently brushing Sora’s tear-stained cheek. He could hardly stand to look at his face, but the sight of his broken, bleeding body was no better. The wounds were precise and lethal, and Riku was far too late.

No matter how many dozens of times he had watched Sora die, it never got easier. It never stopped feeling like his chest was a black hole caving in on itself, his heart squeezed until it was nothing more than dust. 

He couldn’t look. He couldn't look away.

Riku kneeled and placed both of Sora’s hands over his heart. He was about to speak and begin the incantation that would throw them both back to the starting point again, but Sora suddenly stirred, weakly reaching one hand up towards Riku’s face.

“Riku…” his voice was barely more than a whisper. 

“I’m here,” Riku said, the words catching in his throat. “Don’t speak. You can rest now. It’s okay.”

He hated to say it. He wanted to plead with Sora, wanted to beg him to stay. But if Riku had learned anything throughout the loops, it was that nothing came of begging. There was no one to answer his prayers; benevolent forces did not dwell here. At best, all it would accomplish would be making Sora sad in his final moments. At worst, future loops would be impacted by Riku’s words to Sora, twisting the knife further. He had seen it enough to know what to avoid now.

“I don’t want…” There was a weighted pause. “...Don’t want to leave you.” The pool of blood continued to grow. Riku knew - though he wished that he didn’t - that Sora wouldn’t be able to maintain consciousness for much longer at this rate. He could hardly believe Sora was awake even now. 

“We’ll meet again.” he assured Sora softly, trying to keep his voice steady. “Don’t worry. It'll be okay.” 

“You…” This pause was longer, much longer, and Riku was all but sure that Sora would not speak again. Finally, with a wet cough, Sora continued. “You promise?”

“I promise.” Riku lied. He leaned forward and kissed Sora’s forehead, his lips lingering there for several long moments as he took steadying breaths. 

“Mm… ‘kay.” Sora managed. “Love you… so much.” 

“I love you too.” Riku said, clenching his teeth so hard his jaw popped. He wanted to scream. After taking a moment to compose himself, he sat up and offered his best imitation of a smile to Sora. Better for him to see that than to see how broken Riku really was. 

The all-too-familiar faraway look settled on Sora’s face as the last of his breath left his body. Riku collapsed over him, the tears finally coming, the weight hitting him all at once with the force of a tidal wave. Even knowing that he would see Sora alive and well again in mere moments did nothing to comfort him. 

It didn't matter how many times Riku had seen it. It never got any easier to watch Sora die.

[lavenderjewels]

jjk 267 leaks + spoilers in the tags. ill be completely honest i understand the jjk criticism I’ve seen for this chapter but i also don’t care