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maybe he should have been more prepared to hear him ask about his mother. he'd known her to hold him in high regard, despite his absence, despite jake never learning much more from her. it had been long after she'd been gone that he'd learned anything tangible. arms fold tightly, a subtle defense mechanism. his gaze never leaves wesker, however, attempting to judge his every expression and every move. he appears to soften and jake is left wondering just how trustworthy it is. everything he'd heard told him he wasn't trustworthy, period.
jake doesn't know if being flesh and blood changes anything.
❝ she was sick, ❞ he finally says, ❝ she never shook it. couldn't afford to. ❞ he still believed that had they been well off, had he made enough before she died, maybe she'd have gotten better. it makes sense to talk about her now. hell, wouldn't he be curious? ❝ you remember her? ❞ clearly, he thought, he knew who he was. his head, though, is swirling with a dozen different thoughts. he'd spent so much time trying to figure out his father and now that he's in front of him, never imagining he'd see the day he was in front of him.
The boy - the man before him - was unreconcilable to the image he had built within his own mind. He was at such a disadvantage, seeing his son with only a blurry photograph to prepare him. How many images did Jake see? He appeared to soften.
"Yes, I do." He took a breath as if to prepare himself, then continued quietly. "What happened to your mother?" Tread carefully, Wesker - the boy is likely to hold the woman dear. The nature of his relationship with the boy's mother was as yet unknown to him... and he needed to know they could speak about it amicably before divulging any further personal information. He heard rumors... that she had been unwell, had passed away.
Unfortunate, yet how interesting she had produced such a worthy son.
@prgenitor
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fighting is second nature. jake's at home in conflict, more than he's been when relationships are amicable and safe. to be comfortable was to be vulnerable and while he'd only suffered the burn once, it had left enough of a scar that he didn't want to experience it twice. it's hard for him to perceive people as good, as true to their word.
piers was easy to rile up. and while, at times, he could say shit to intentionally stir up trouble, jake also didn't give himself much of a filter. and it seemed like saying shit about chris was a consistent sore spot.
❝ yeah, yeah, golden boy strikes again, ❞ he snaps, more than ready to tear through the tension and kick his ass just to get it out of his system. as soon as the sniper rifle hits the ground, he scoffs, ❝ speak for yourself, ❞ he retorted, because not only did he not plan to cry, but he didn't plan to lose either ( though neither of them did, did they? ). the force he's hit with causes him to stumble, back against the ground before he can catch his balance. with a growl, he holds grips piers's shoulders, attempting to wrestle him out of the advantageous position, trying to roll him onto his back.
THERE WAS SO MUCH RAGE INSIDE OF HIM , IT WAS SOMETHING HE KNEW THEY HAD IN COMMON. perhaps their temper was just adding fuel to the fire and one wrong word lead to his actions. he could endure a lot , he could be insulted and he wouldn‘t mind , just bark back the second they were thrown at him , but once something about his captain slipped out ? there was no control any longer. no remorse he would feel for beating his ass up.
„ at least i am not trying to sabotage my own fucking rescue , bastard. “ , he growled back after being pushed back against the wall and he glared at him. he squinted his eyes at jake , glared at him and wished it would kill him or hurt him enough. he knew he was disobeying direct orders , but it was worth it , with the way jake hold himself so high, thought he was better than anyone. „ fine. but don‘t cry if you lose. “ , he growled as he threw his sniper rifle on the ground and rushed towards him to push him on the ground.
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it's difficult sometimes, for jake to get out of his own head and remember that not everyone's lives are as privileged as they look. it's easy to make assumptions based on little more than stereotypes and his initial impression of someone. it's always been more dangerous to get too close, particularly when he lived a life where trust was hard to earn and even then, it seemed too easy for people to cut your throat for a little extra pocket change. and when jake felt judged or when he thought that someone would more than likely judge him first, it was easier to be proactive about it. he'd much rather start off with anger than to feel it later when the betrayal set in or he recognized that getting too empathetic was ultimately going to hurt.
shit, if he could get out of his head for a second, maybe he'd see just how typical it was. he's not the only one. ❝ uh-huh, thought so, ❞ but jake can tell by the way that his jaw clenches, the way he spits out the words that there's something more to it. neither of them owe each other any part of their stories.
❝ must've been someone pretty good to get chris redfield's attention. ❞ he doesn't pretend to know the ins and outs of the bsaa's recruiting methods. though, he's learned his fair share about redfield and the reputation he carried with him. while he doesn't say it out loud, he gets it. jake's uninterested in hurting others and while he was dragged into the world of bioweapons, he doesn't want to see monsters live either. mercenary work had been self-serving for a while, but while he can say that he'd been selfish, he'd never gone out of his way to hurt innocent people. he didn't give a fuck about hurting anyone that didn't deserve it. and now, he wants to focus on the monsters. hell, they were a sordid link to his history, born with the blood of a man who'd tried to destroy the goddamn world — who worked on the bioweapons that helped give the bsaa its purpose.
he scoffs, however, when he asks about the money. ❝ it helps, i'm not gonna lie. kind of need money to survive, ❞ he shrugs his shoulders. there'd been too many times that he'd heard mercenary work likened to greed. jake didn't see himself as greedy, but even if he was, he didn't think it was such a bad thing. ❝ look, i needed money and i had one skillset, so i used it. after a while, that's all i had, ❞ blue eyes look back to piers, curious. ❝ what do you have against money anyway? ❞
TRAGIC STRUCK NOT ONLY HIS LIFE , BUT SOMEONE ELSES TOO , HE knew that , but that didn‘t gave anyone the right to act like an asshat and even though they both probably were too stubborn for their own good , there was a part of piers that felt sort of sorry for jake. not only because he‘d been involved in this all , but because he knew you didn‘t decide to become some mercenary out of nowhere or just out of fun. he might not know exactly what had happened or why he choose this path , but it wasn‘t for him to be known unless jake wanted him to know.
„ of course. been the best kiddo. “ , he huffed , as he could feel the anger rise inside him , because he could tell he was just judging him , that he was just fucking with him , because in all honesty , as much as he hated him , he didn‘t owe him anything. and neither did he owe him any explanation about his past or anything else. they were both trapped here , unfortunate situation and they had to get their shit together , even though they were both too stubborn and probably had too much pride.
„ course it‘s the american dream. couldn‘t be happier. “ , he spat out , jaw clenching together , because he knew that he could have had it all. he could have what he always wanted if he just wasn‘t himself , because if he had kept pretending he might have gotten the appreciation from his father he always had wanted ever since he had been a little kid. but he couldn‘t live a lie , he couldn‘t deny the fact he wasn‘t what his father wanted to be and as much as he sometimes missed home , being with the b.s.a.a. had fulfilled him with joy , made him have a new home , a place where he did belong and anyone else probably was going to think he was crazy for fighting monsters in order to save the world.
hazel orbs moved towards jake and for a second all he gave was a shrug of his shoulders , as he exhaled a deep breathe and looked away again. „ it‘s what i can do best. don‘t ask me why i choose , chris came and asked me to join , thought it was far better than staying in the army and i was right. it is right. and the world‘s already full of monsters , we don‘t need more of them. “ , he said with another shrug of his shoulders. perhaps he couldn‘t save everyone and the losses hurt , but he knew he was doing a good job , he was keeping innocent people safe , while the world was going down. he was trying to help , but was he doing it truly for others or more for himself ? he knew it was a mixture of both , but it gave him a purpose , a life he never imagined to have. a family he didn‘t want to miss. „ so what‘s your excuse ? the money ? “ , he asked , almost sounding bitter , but there was also a teasing tone in his voice , as he crossed his arms over his chest and a small smile tugged on the corner of his lips.
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going to get some writing done here today! i had a rough week ( head injury ayyy ), so i've been hanging out on my mm. but it's jake time now.
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even as his hands raise, jake remains careful. he's heard enough stories to maintain that level of caution, but it's all he knows to do. the stories didn't prepare him for how to react to him. it didn't keep the anger from rising up like a venom in the back of his throat, nor did it dampen the shock of seeing him there. alive. he'd been furious before, about not having the opportunity to see him for himself prior to his death, no matter what he learned about him. and no matter how many times he'd gone over what it would look like, what he'd say, whether he'd shout or insult him, it felt like he'd never thought about it at all.
❝ yeah, turns out you made a pretty big impact, ❞ he replies. nearly on the whole damn world it seemed. hell, he'd left an impact on him and this had been the first time he met him face to face.
❝ i've seen the pictures, heard the stories... ❞ jake tries to keep his tone as neutral as possible, but there's still frustration creating a sharp edge to it. his blue eyes do nothing to hide the mix of emotions smacking him over the head at once. he always thought he was better at burying shit down as deep as possible. but, standing in front of albert wesker himself? he was having one hell of a time. ❝ i am, ❞ he acknowledges, squinting at him in curiosity. jake shakes his head, pausing a moment, ❝ you know who i am? ❞
The apple rarely falls far from the proverbial tree.
In Jacob's case, he had clearly taken more after his father than his late mother. He had his eyes. His taste for blood. The lifestyle he had chosen, a telltale sign of his penchant for war. He eased out of the slip of shadow and removed his hands from his pockets - showing them palms up, empty. He knew Jake had every right to be angry - furious, even - and he treaded carefully... not that Jake could any do any lasting damage, but because fighting him here was not his goal.
"So you recognize me. They must have shown you photos then." He scoured the younger man, taking the measure of him. "Yes, well... they can try." A meaningful pause, laced with menace and disdain. But that all fell away and he was carefully neutral: "You look well."
Was Wesker... trying to be friendly?
@prgenitor
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Jake Muller (バイオハザード6)
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𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎 — a mashup of horror, gaming, & fantasy content. 21+. featuring canons and ocs from resident evil, the last of us, far cry, dead by daylight, scream, lord of the rings, and more. CARRD.
#self promo //#tossing this over here#this is what i split my time with#i have a ton of re characters over there#plus other things
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jake's brow furrows in response to the chuckle. he wonders if every move is as calculated as it seems. for all the control he seems to command, not only over himself, but over a room, he can't help the curiosity — does he give into impulsivity too? does that come from him or is it all his own? even when his eyes wander, even when they fall, attention given to idle fidgeting, he's observant. he catches onto the nuance of his voice and watches him again as he describes his father, as he poses a question that gives him pause.
he takes a slow breath, shoulders resting against the back of the chair.
❝ sounds like he was a real standup guy, ❞ he notes, but it's a different version of hell than the one he had known. absence, he supposes, is better than anything ice cold, it's better than being a pawn in someone else's plan. jake can say, in full confidence, that he's only ever acted on his own behalf and on those he chose.
lips press together as if there were a right or wrong answer. ❝ i don't know, ❞ he finally says, shaking his head, because as much as he wanted emotion to be simplistic, he knew better. he talked a good game, put on a damn good show, but at the end of the day? he knew better. ❝ is there a difference between wanting it and feeling it? you're still gonna lose it the same way. the betrayal's still gonna sting. ❞
@prgenitor / cont
There’s a decided pause from the man as he paces around the room, shades tipped as burning red lava peers out the window. It almost feels like yesterday, the ramblings and entitlement to immortality that Spencer spoke of before Albert cut his pitiful lifeline short, stripping him of the right he’d sought his entire life. How long had he wanted to do that? Wesker could not tell you, the intent having laid dormant for a good part of his existence. He was no pawn piece, nor was he a king—he moved all the pieces, and none would move him again.
There’s a low, foreboding chuckle as he readjusts his sunglasses, turning back to his guest with amusement at the question.
“ Love… “ the word feels alien on his lips, a trace of disgust as he speaks it – yet, if one looked close enough, a touch of mourning. Something brief as he flexes his hand, observing it as if he held a heart within its palm. Before crushing it tenfold into a tight fist. His arm falls once more, shoulders slouched. “ He saw his ‘children’ as a stepping stone to his own success. We were to play fiddle to his every beck and call. Those that didn’t make the cut, died in pursuit of his perfect future. Love was nothing more a fantasy word built in a logistic environment, and if not cold, steel discipline? Another thread to keep you tethered to their thrall. “
He paces to the desk, folding his arms as he leans against the wood.
“ Tell me, was there love to be lost if there had never been any to begin with? “
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( @lasplaga asked: don't leave me in the dark. ▶ "TELL ME WHAT'S GOING ON" PROMPTS / always accepting! )
it's impossible to be here by accident. the old pathways for hikers have grown over — the region under a persistent quarantine to keep unsuspecting tourists from stumbling upon the ganados that persevered inside. but jake knew exactly where he was going.
( to an extent )
he's uninterested in the science that seemed to motivate his father to valdelobos nearly ten years prior. wesker's research is worse than unimportant — it's the pursuit of a madman. he isn't surprised at the cruelty and carelessness of people, but if he's learned anything, it's that the world was filled with malignancies that no one should have touched.
just because you can, didn't mean you should, right?
he's tracing the footsteps of a ghost, not digging for answers as much as he's digging for closure.
he feels a deep unease since he'd arrived, stomach jostled, mind too alert, like he needs to keep constant watch over his shoulder. he's made it to the castle and it's the opposite of a fairytale. the air feels heavy like tangible death, pain still lingers.
❝ shit, who lights all these? ❞ combat boots trudge through the audience chamber, focused on the eery candlelight, instead of the way his stomach swims. shake it off, jake. shake it the fuck off.
don't leave me in the dark, he hears and spins around, looking for the source of the voice.
❝ sorry, i'm not really the sharing type of guy. ❞
#lasplaga#ic //#main verse // dying for money's one thing that's my choice#hope this is alright!#if you want anything different lmk
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i always think of jake seeing chris & leon in dbd and being like holy shit, you guys are young. and they're just ??? who tf ??
also making matches absolute hell for wesker. until he plants himself in the rpd office one day like what's up.
#ooc //#headcanons // worst boat ride since the titanic#just jake in wesker's office chair#i bet you're wondering why i summoned you here today#but in reality#i can also see him exploring the rpd#out of curiosity#bc there's that tie#jake and his dbd antics#i just finished playing the longest i have in a while#and man it's on the brain
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jake in his dbd verse is an absolute menace. he spends minimal time on the objectives, choosing to follow the killer ( or chased surivors ), just for the opportunity to get as many stuns in as possible. he's the type of survivor to hunt the killer down to get a pallet stun for no reason or to flashlight at every opportunity.
he very much believes that the killers are trapped in there with him, not the other way around. generally, he's good at what he does, but no doubt he's probably pissed off his share of killers and ended up killed as quickly as possible. while he won't let his teammates die if he can help it, unless you're up for chaotic shenanigans, he might not be the best team member.
the only exception to how brash he is is with the huntress. she's the one killer that terrifies him more than the rest and you'll find him working stealthy when it comes to trials against her. he's not afraid of most of the killers, but she makes his blood run cold.
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( @gviirus asked: " Wesker Junior. Your father and I conducted business together. " A pause, and Ada gives him an observing glance. " ...there's something more to you than he ever was. " )
the more he learned about his father — the more he hoped that the parts of him that had made him crazy weren't also a part of jake. while he'd been self-serving, he didn't get a rise out of hurting others ( though he can't know how wesker felt, can't wrap his head around what made him tick and now, he can't ask him ). he'd thought himself more neutral for so damn long, but now he wants more than that. he wants to be better, wants to prove that blood didn't make him. he doesn't want to fear genetics.
in some ways, he feels as though he'd been shorthanded. he lost the opportunity to speak to the man, lost the chance to know who he was firsthand. but judging how he was talked about, he might've dodged a bullet too. jake only wished he'd had some kind of choice in it. it's through the stories of others, through those who worked with him, fought with him, or had known of him in life that can help him.
❝ was that before or after he went off the deep end? ❞ he asks, though his brow furrows, considering what she said. jake shakes his head, because while he can hope that there's more to him, he's intimidated by the unknown. ❝ — how do you mean? ❞
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( @gviirus asked: "If the test of a man is how he treats those he has power over, it was a test my father failed." / albert )
jake slouches back against the chair, knowing if he leaned into it any further, it might swallow him whole. one leg crosses over the other, heavy boot resting on his thigh, bouncing idly. the casual posture is more intentional than usual, choosing nonchalance as a protective shield.
his father's words hang in the air for a moment and jake has to stop himself from picking at the worn leather at the top of his boot. very little breaks through his ability to act indifferent — but albert wesker? nothing about being in his presence feels casual to him. he's conflicted, because on one hand, it's easier when he's more of a concept than a man, but at the same time, concepts couldn't answer all the questions he'd had.
❝ no love lost between you and your old man, huh? ❞ he breaks the silence, eyes back on him yet again.
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( @gviirus asked: “Stay where you are. I’m coming to get you.” / sherry )
blue eyes search frantically for an out, the circling j'avo becoming more of a physical threat with each passing second. he'd blown through four already when the click of his own gun made his stomach drop. ❝ you're kidding me, ❞ frustratedly, he holsters the gun, his hand wrapping instead around the familiar knife handle, twirling it into a comfortable position. he avoids looking up at the jagged, dusty boards that he'd unceremoniously fallen through just moments prior. while he snapped back into action quickly, he's tasting bitter fear at the back of his throat.
it's his job to mold it into adrenaline.
when he hears sherry's voice from above, he can't help but chuckle, ❝ yeah, i don't think i'm going anywhere, ❞ he calls back. he'd trusted she'd find a way to him though and between the two of them, they'd spring out of the mess with their lives intact.
with each backward step, he tries to keep his eyes on the closing half-circle ahead of him, posture defensive. he suspects he might be able to get through them if push comes to shove. like a cornered animal, jake's survival instinct has a way of bursting through when he needs it the most. but, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't a little worried.
❝ hey, not trying to rush you, but this isn't looking too hot! ❞
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random character headcanons, vol i ♡ happy developing ᵔᴗᵔ
teddy bear — does your muse have any treasured possessions? what makes it so special?
scratched cd — what genre of music does your muse hate? if someone happens to turn on that genre, will they tolerate it or leave the room?
dried paint brush — how creative is your muse? do they create anything with said creativity or are they considered 'wasted potential'?
playground equipment — what's a childhood memory, whether it's liked or not, that stands out to your muse? why does it stand out among the rest?
candy bracelet — does your muse prefer chocolate, hard candy or chewy candy? do they even like sweets at all?
broken record player — what regrets does your muse have? if they could go back and change that event / the past in general, would they?
ball pit — what does your muse do for fun?
orange creamsicle — what's a topic your muse could talk about for hours? is there a reason this particular topic means so much to them?
hopscotch — does your muse like to work out? if not, how else do they move their body from day to day?
flimsy fairy wings — did your muse used to celebrate / dress up for halloween as a child? if yes, what's a costume they remember wearing (and did they pick out or did their parents)?
instant messenger — if it's not already taken, what is your muse's go-to username?
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Untitled Headcanon Questions
Part I
You can replace the 'your muse' with the name of the muse you're asking.
A random assortment of headcanon questions to send to receiver's muse and help both you and them get to know their muse better. Adjust as necessary to fit pronoun and/or descriptor. Reblog, please do not repost or add.
What can completely break your muse?
What has your muse witnessed in their lives that has fundamentally changed them?
What is your muse's relationship with sex and/or sexual intimacy?
What is a habit your muse has, which they consider perfectly normal, but others think is weird?
Does your muse believe in marriage? Do they ever want to get married?
What is a dream and/or a nightmare your muse had and can't forget?
What is your muse's relationship with their parent/s (can be biological, adoptive, found family or otherwise)?
What does your muse do to pass the time?
What did your muse want to be when they were a child? Would their child self be happy with what they are now?
Does your muse have any pets?
In what ways does your muse express their love to someone else (platonic, familial, romantic, sexual or otherwise)?
What is your muse's favorite hobby/ies? Are there any hobbies they tried but never got the hang of?
If they could go anywhere in the world right now, where would your muse go on a vacation by themselves?
What is inside your muse's pockets/bag/purse/backpack/etc. right now?
Where does your muse feel most comfortable at?
What is your muse's favorite quote, and why?
What does your muse do in their routine to take care of themselves (physically, mentally, emotionally or otherwise)?
What is your muse's favorite piece of clothing in their wardrobe?
What is your muse's favorite food dish? Are they able to make it themselves?
How does your muse prefer someone else confess their love to them, if they want to at all?
How would your muse confess their love to someone?
Who does your muse consider as a good friend, and why?
What would be your muse's last words be if they died right now?
What is a promise someone made to your muse and broken it that your muse never forgot about?
What is your muse's relationship with their sibling/s (can be biological, adoptive, found family or otherwise)?
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( @buriedabove asked: “I think you’d better take a break.” )
a break. jake had once jumped from one job to the next out of necessity. it kept him fed, sheltered, and satiated. he'd been little more than the guy who followed the money, who wrapped himself in violence like a comfortable blanket. and now? the necessity was different. the goal isn't money. it hasn't been since lanshiang. but lately, it feels like exhaustion has seeped into his bones, spreading through him like a virus in its own right. fight after fight, he feels like his boots have been swallowed up by cartoon quicksand, like the path forward is turning hazier, darker.
is it possible to want nothing more than to push onward, to maintain momentum while feeling impossibly burnt out at the same time?
jake's fingers drum idly on the table, “I think you’d better take a break, ” he hears, but chews on the inside of his bottom lip instead of answering promptly. he might have a point and while jake acknowledges it, he isn't sure he wants to accept it either. taking a break meant silence. taking a break meant letting his thoughts fester. he's not used to being left alone with them and fighting keeps them at bay. slowly, his blue gaze lifts to focus on leon yet again, unable to disguise the uncertainty of his furrowed brow. his fingers come to a stop, hand resting on the table instead — stilling.
❝ do you ever take a break? ❞ he asks, not intending for it to sound defiant. it's a genuine question. hell, so far he suspected that everyone swallowed up by bioterrorism was overworked. ❝ seems to me like there's always something to fight. ❞
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